The Foundation of Things

I love Piet Mondrian's tree paintings. They range in style from post impressionistic to cubist. They form a visual pathway of Mondrian's artistic journey from representational to purely abstract. 

Evening: The Red Tree -Piet Mondrian

Horizontal Tree -Piet Mondrian

Apple Tree in Flower  -Piet Mondrian 

Mondrian wrote, "...I want to come as close as possible to the truth and abstract everything from that, until I reach the foundation of things..." I think that's what good writer's do as well: Take the overwhelming complexity of the world and distill it down into a story that conveys the truth in a way that we can hold in our mind.

A sketch and some thoughts from my journal about truth. 

Because I love Mondrian's tree paintings so much, I decided to chop them into pieces and make them into a gaudy collage in my journal (sorry Piet).  

To the One

The Ryōan-ji, a Zen temple in Japan, is home to one of the most famous Zen gardens in the world. This beautiful garden features fifteen stones and raked gravel designed to promote meditation. What I find most intriguing about the garden, is that it is arranged in such way that the viewer can only see fourteen of the fifteen stones from any possible vantage point. No matter where you sit, there will always be one stone lost from your view.

Kyoto-Ryoan-Ji Zen garden in Japan. Photo by Cquest

When I struggle to stay motivated to work on some of my more difficult and time consuming creative projects, I find it helpful to think of that one stone I can't see. "The One" is what I call the person my writing or art work is for. In other words, I believe if we humbly strive to let the Lord work through us, prayerfully ask that we might inspire and serve others, then the Lord will gladly place The One in our path. Or, more accurately, in the path of our work. They will stumble onto our art, read our story, see one of our prints, and it will affect them in some important and positive way. Every inspired creative work is intended by God to reach some one who needs it, but we never know who The One is for sure. They're that one rock, just out of view.

Sometimes we think we know. This is especially true if we are writing or making something as a gift. While we certainly hope that it will resonate with the intended recipient, we may never know if it really does. Maybe it gets stuffed in a closet and forgotten until one of their kids stumbles onto it years later, or maybe it gets sold at a garage sale. It might touch some unforeseeable person in a way that we never intended.

The One becomes even more unknowable if we're publishing something or posting on the web. Then there truly is no way we could ever know who it might affect. Instead, we just have to have faith that there is someone out there somewhere who will benefit in some way from our work. When we're feeling frustrated, tired, or blocked, thinking of The One out there waiting for our work, needing it even, can help us endure.

Christ said, “What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?” (Luke 15:4). In his 2008 talk "Concern for the One", Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin of the L.D.S. church said, "We are commanded to seek out those who are lost. We are to be our brother’s keeper. We cannot neglect this commission given by our Savior. We must be concerned for the one." There are many ways to seek out those who are lost. One of those ways is through our talents and creative works.

Like the fifteenth stone in the Ryōan-ji Zen garden, we can never see who our work will inspire, uplift, or enlighten. However, God can. The one way to see the fifteenth stone in the Ryōan-ji Zen garden, is from above. God has a perspective that we do not. He can see where we cannot. He knows exactly who the work is for and where it will go even before he inspires us to create it.

The One is out there, in need of your creative work, so you better go get started.

A really bad sketch of the Ryōan-ji Zen garden from my journal.
Apparently, I've forgotten how do do three point perspective. 

A Willingness to be Whimsical

Last night, I went out to dinner with some very creative and inspiring friends. One of them said, “I’m not an artist, I just love to be creative.” She described how she jumps from creative interest to creative interest depending on whatever catches her fancy from graffiti art to Popsicle sticks. This willingness to be whimsical is a key characteristic in expanding our creative capacity. It puts us in a mindset where we can learn to be less self-conscious and more willing to experiment with different genres, materials, mediums, and subjects. It’s a playful, childlike mindset that allows our creativity to flourish…and, well, it’s just plain fun. 

A recent whim of mine has been an unexpected fascination with gates, doors, wells, and caves (for some reason they’re all related in my mind). I’m not sure where this interest came  from or where it’s going, but I try not to question it and just go with it. 

Will following this latest whimsy lead to a polished work of art? Maybe. Will it lead to a story or novel idea? Maybe. I don’t really care. All it has lead to so far is a bizarre little fairy tale that I included below. For now, I’m just enjoying the ride. 

The Well

Once upon a time, there was a very busy man who worked hard every day, and every day he was paid three silver coins for his work. One day, as he hurried home from work, he saw an ancient stone wishing well and he said to himself, “Maybe if I drop one of my coins into the well, my wish will come true.” He took one of the silver coins from his pocket, held it out over the edge of the well, and let it go. He watched as it descended into the darkness, slowly turning end over end, until it disappeared. A moment later, he heard a distant ‘plop’ as the coin plunged into the water far below. Only then did he close his eyes and whisper his wish.

The man’s wish did not come true and so the next day, he again stopped at the well, dropped in his coin, and made a wish. He did this for three years without missing a single day. At the end of the third year he said to himself, “I will try one last time, and then I will never wish again.” He took one of the three silver coins out of his pocket, held it over the edge of the well, and dropped it. It tumbled end over end into the darkness and disappeared. He waited for the familiar plop so that he could make his wish. He waited and waited and waited. There was no plop. “That’s strange,” he said. He took out a second coin. This time he leaned over the edge, so he could hold the coin as close to the center of the well as he could and then dropped it in. He cocked his head to the side and waited and waited and waited, but there was still no sound, just the empty, silent darkness of the well. “I don’t understand,” he said. He took the last silver coin out of his pocket, leaned even further over the edge, held the coin out over the very center, and dropped it. This time he watched closely as it fell away into the shadows. He stared hard into the blackness and waited and waited and waited. No plop. Just when he decided to give up, his hand slipped from the edge of the well and he tumbled down, down, down.

He Will Make It Enough

One of my favorite stories from the Bible is when Christ feeds the 5,000:

"When Jesus heard of it, he departed thence by ship into a desert place apart: and when the people had heard thereof, they followed him on foot out of the cities. And Jesus went forth, and saw a great multitude, and was moved with compassion toward them, and he healed their sick. And when it was evening, his disciples came to him, saying, This is a desert place, and the time is now past; send the multitude away, that they may go into the villages, and buy themselves victuals. But Jesus said unto them, They need not depart; give ye them to eat. And they say unto him, We have here but five loaves, and two fishes. He said, Bring them hither to me. And he commanded the multitude to sit down on the grass, and took the five loaves, and the two fishes, and looking up to heaven, he blessed, and brake, and gave the loaves to his disciples, and the disciples to the multitude. And they did all eat, and were filled: and they took up of the fragments that remained twelve baskets full. And they that had eaten were about five thousand men, beside women and children." -Matthew 14:13-21

When Jesus asked the disciples to bring him the five loaves and two fishes, the disciples knew that they did not have enough food to feed the 5,000. Not even close! But they did as the Lord asked and brought to him what little they had. And He made it enough.

We often feel like our talent and creativity amounts to only a few measly loaves and fishes, that it falls far short of what has been asked of us. However, if we bring to the lord what talent we have and sincerely and humbly try to use it to do His will, He will make it enough.

Contributing Editors

A few years ago, Kent Ripplinger, my former photography professor at Weber State University and good friend, was kind enough to be a guest speaker for my Creative Writing class. Not only is Kent a great photographer, he is also a prolific journaler. He talked to my class about how he uses journals and all the things he puts in them. One of the coolest things he did was to let other people write in his journals. I'm not sure why, but until then it had never occurred to me that I'm not the only one that can contribute to my journals. That, in fact, they can be greatly enriched by having others add their unique perspectives, styles, and ideas to them. Ever since then, I have enjoyed letting other people write and draw in my journals. Here's a few examples of other people's work:

This is a drawing that my oldest son did. I then added lines from

 "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

This drawing was done by an orphan boy in Haiti.
Not only was he an imaginative artist, but that dude could dance!

My youngest son doodled this tree. I colored in the background
using a (quite unsuccessful) combination of pastels and watercolor.

Hunger is not Greed

There's a particularly poignant warm-up I do with my Creative Writing students each year in which I simply write on the board "A child has been hurt" and let them write for 10-15 minutes. I suspect it could be a distressing thing for anyone to write about, but it is particularly emotional for my students. I teach at an alternative high school. This means I get all the students who have either been kicked out or otherwise dropped out of the regular high schools in my district. Many of these students are victims of abuse. I always invite the students to share their warm-ups when we are done. While the students are allowed to write in any creative writing genre, they almost always write autobiographically. They are surprisingly willing to open up and share some of the most heartbreaking stories from their lives. Inevitably, there are a few students who can’t finish because they become too choked up or start to cry. They never fail to inspire me with their courage.

These students are struggling to succeed because of the abuse they have been through or are going through. They fight everyday to overcome the countless difficult trials resulting from these experiences. When I witness their courage and determination, I often think, If this kid only had a loving and nurturing home, they could accomplish anything! 

I use this warm-up to lead into a lesson about our inner child. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I agree with Julia Cameron that our inner child and our inner source of creativity are one and the same. If your inner child has been hurt, then your creative capacity has been diminished. Sometimes the inner child has been severely abused, but as often as not, he or she has simply been neglected. One way in which we neglect our inner child is by “confusing hunger with greed”. The poet Ruth Stone brought this to my attention:

Advice

My hazard wouldn’t be yours, not ever;

But every doom, like a hazelnut, comes down

To its own worm. So I am rocking here

Like any granny with her apron over her head

Saying, lordy me. It’s my trouble.

There’s nothing to be learned this way.

If I heard a girl crying help

I would go to save her;

But you hardly ever hear those words.

Dear children, you must try to say

Something when you are in need.

Don’t confuse hunger with greed;

And don’t wait until you are dead.

                                                                                   -Ruth Stone

I realize that Ruth Stone was not referring to our inner child, but the idea still applies. How often is our inner child, our capacity to create, starving nearly to death, but we tell ourselves not to be greedy with our time? We quietly go about our busy days feeling the hollow ache inside of us and ignore it. We fail to find a way to nourish our inner child and we fail to call for help because of some ill-conceived idea that this is selfish. Neglect is a form of child abuse. We have to ask ourselves, are we abusing our inner child?

As Ruth Stone warns us, hunger is not greed! It’s okay, necessary in fact, to feed our creativity and/or to call for help from our friends and family. It’s even more important to call for help to our Heavenly Father. Friends and family may not always hear or understand, but our Heavenly Father always will. 

Jesus said, “Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?” (Matthew 7:9–11).

Like the girl in Ruth Stone's poem, we may not even ask for help. We think that Heavenly Father would not want to be bothered with trifling things like our latest art project or story idea. This is simply not true. Like any loving father, our Heavenly Father is interested in all of our righteous endeavors if for no other reason than because we are interested in them. In a talk he gave on the topic of prayer, J. Devn Cornish said, "...our Heavenly Father loves us so much that the things that are important to us become important to Him, just because He loves us. How much more would He want to help us with the big things that we ask, which are right."

I have seen several kids in my school over the years go from struggling students to successful adults. While they are almost all courageously fighting to improve, the ones who usually succeed had someone in their life who answered their (often unspoken) call for help and showed them a little love and encouragement. In each of us is an inner child courageously fighting to reach his/her creative potential. With a little love and encouragement, who knows what that creativity could accomplish? 

A sketch I made in my journal of Ruth Stone and her quote from "Advice". I added the warm-up later.

Another great poem by Ruth Stone. Just for fun, I scribbled in some Andy Warhol-style soup cans.