about inspiration or whatever we’re supposed to call that slippery thing that makes you want to get up and make something
and why I carry notebooks like they’re emotional support animals
or: how to feed that chaotic little art gremlin that lives in your brain: an essay
psa: not going to lie, this is probably going to be a long one, because we do tend to ramble on here. So grab a coffee, tea, beverage of choice (don’t forget your water) and a snack and let’s go.
happy monday, my dearest, darling readers,
greetings!
How are you?
How was your weekend?
mine was filled with painting commissions (currently chasing deadlines), lots of coffee, but I was also able to squeeze in some much needed friend (one of my best friends is back from being away and it’s so good to have her back) and me time (aka books and gym time) and some time for personal work (delightful!).
Speaking of personal work!
As I’ve mentioned in my last post, I’ve been feeling a shift currently (and by currently I mean for the past 6-8 months or so) happening in my work and the more I work through this shift the more I’m leaving behind not only those awkward beginning stages, where nothing really looks and feels like anything, but also that weird middle stage. You know the stage. The one where everything looks and feels insane, and you sort of wanna cry, but you also see flickers of things that do work, so you decide to trust yourself, and the skills you built and just keep going? That stage.
Actually, I might be exaggerating. There have not been any tears (yet?).
Soooo, as part of this whole fabulous journey, I’ve been experimenting. A lot. Those experiments will be shared sooner or later, I promise, I just have to compile them in a sort of way that they make sense and formulate my thoughts. But, I’m essentially gathering ingredients and then seeing how I can incorporate them into my cooking. And all of this is taking me approximately a bajillion (give or take) years. Which is fine! because I guess technically there’s not really an end point, considering the work is always changing, I’m always changing, and being an artist is basically just living in a state of perpetual beta forever and ever. (also I am not trying to rush things, and also, I actually enjoy the time it takes. It’s all part of the process! stirring things around in my creative cauldron, gathering said ingredients, waiting for them to simmer and the potion will become whatever it’s meant to be.)
Anyyyyway, this is a very long-winded way to say that I’ve been really really really really enjoying making these very very loose and fun drawings in my sketchbooks.
For the longest time I have been (and still am) chasing, nay yearning, to get more loose with my art. I think for the past 4?? years that goal has been in every single one of my yearly intentions lists but let me tell you. It is not an easy thing to do. Simple in theory, maddening in practice. Especially when your instincts trend toward overthinking and tight control. (Hi, hello, it’s me. Hi. I’m the problem, it’s me)
All that to saayyyyy again (cue dramatic arm flail), since I’ve been stirring this strange and wonderful, chaotic cauldron of change (pls someone make this into a song), I thought I’d try to share a bit of what this...metamorphosis? phase? has been like.
And what better place to start than with the root, the heart of it all: inspiration or whatever we’re supposed to call that slippery thing that makes you want to get up and make something.
This is not necessarily a how-to, but more of a “here’s what I do”, and maybe, hopefully, I can inspire you as well. like a “here’s what I’m learning as I crawl through it.” (I realise that this doesn’t work for my cauldron metaphor, and I apologise)
Now. I want to preface this by saying that I am a firm believer that you shouldn’t rely on inspiration or motivation to create or make or do in general.
To shamelessly quote one my own Patreon posts:
“I've never been a fan of making the act of creating dependent on inspiration. I'm a firm believer that you don't need inspiration to create.
There's this quote from Picasso: "Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working."
There are a lot of things to be said about Picasso (and a lot of them not so good), but on this point, I wholeheartedly agree. What really cemented this thought/belief are commissions and client work. When working on a commission, you don't have the luxury of waiting around till the muse knocks on your door and blesses you with inspiration-fairy-dust. You have a deadline, and you just have to start. Yes, maybe it's a little bit awkward at first, but after a while, you suddenly gain momentum, and things begin to flow. And it all starts because you showed up. Not because you were inspired but because you started.”
Inspiration and motivation are way too fickle and, like I said before, too slippery to rely on, in my humble opinion.
technically inspiration is defined as “someone or something that gives you ideas for doing something” (Cambridge), or “the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative” (Google Dictionary), and Merriam-Webster writes that inspiration is „an inspiring agent or influence“ and Wikipedia tells us that inspiration refers to “Artistic inspiration as sudden creativity in artistic production.” or more specifically: “Inspiration (from the Latin inspirare, meaning "to breathe into") is a burst of creativity in a literary, musical, or visual art and other artistic endeavours without thinking.”
Cool, cool, cool. so we know what inspiration is. Sort of.
There’s always this air of magic surrounding inspiration isn’t there? Like inspiration strikes when you least expect it and so on.
Personally, I hate sitting around and waiting for this aforementioned fairy dust to fall on me (although wouldn’t complain). Also, I am way too impatient to wait around to be swept away by the art gods or touched by some magical art spirit (although, again, would love that for me). Also (part two), one nice thing about art school was that my course was very much focused on ideation and concepts and while that had it downsides (again, we can talk about this some other time) we did learn some useful things along the way and one of those was to NOT wait around till inspiration strikes.
So question is, can we actually get this burst of creativity on purpose?
As someone who is a very practical and efficient person, who also loves solutions, I DO feel that there are ways to get into this flowy state we’re all wishing for. Or as I like to say, there are practical ways that I found to feed that chaotic little art gremlin that lives in my brain (sometimes I call it my inner feral art rat, depending on which state I’m in).
I call it Milo.
All that to sayyyyyy (part twenty), let’s talk about how to stay inspired, have ideas, how to nurture them, and how to get into that delightful flow state we all crave. or here’s what worked for me. or really: here is this one very specific thing.
Now, despite not wanting to rely on inspiration in order to show up, I’ve been in a highly inspired phase for a while (obviously not with the same intensity every day). Not to be dramatic (although who am I kidding, really), but I think I might be in my idea-forging era (important to note: I am not saying they’re all good ideas. some of them are disasters. some of them are not.). I mean I’ve been having so many thoughts, and sparks and “what if I tried this” moments that I can’t keep up inspired. I mean “scribbling frantic notes on the back of a receipt while standing in line” inspired. I mean “half-asleep voice memo that makes no sense in the morning” inspired.
But also, I’ve never felt more excited to make things.
!!!This is not coming from a place of, “oh look at me go, I’m so full of brilliance with all of my amazing ideas” (I assure you, they’re not) but from a place of “I’ve been stuck for such a long time and so scared and timid and afraid and overthinking” and I was very much led by the fear of “ruining” something, of something “not-being-good-enough” etc. etc. which led to wanting to create but not creating, and feeling very creatively blocked and drained!!!
So what changed you may ask. (or you may not, but I’m going to tell you anyway)
Looking back one of my biggest problems was judgement. Anytime I had a thought, an idea, a slither of something I’d immediately judge it.
I would swat them away, mid-thought, like a mosquito: no, not that one, too weird, too obvious, too sentimental, too ugly, too done, too simple, not good enough, not serious enough, not interesting enough blablabla. and then I’d sit there in the silence, like, why aren’t I having any ideas lately?? why am I feeling so un-inspired??
(again this is just me, there are a lot of reasons for being creatively blocked or feeling uninspired. maybe you need to simply give yourself a break and take a nap)
To make a long story short, at some point I thought hey what if, and hear me out, I stop judging my ideas before I even let them exist? (radical, I know!) What if I stopped playing creative bouncer in my own brain? (*insert shocked Pikachu face)
which is where the notebook comes in.
I’ve always been a big journaler or notebook keeper.
A scribbler. A hoarder of paper scraps, ephemera and weird thoughts. A collector of things. But there came a time when I suddenly had this belief that something need to be “of value” (whatever that even means) before I wrote it down, as if the paper and the ink where too precious to waste for anything other than brilliance (which is absolutely tragic, stupid and yes I-blame-Art-School™️ for this). like, okay, well, now we’ve just built an empty shrine to the Idea That Never Lived, congrats to all involved.
So, I started carrying around a tiny little notebook everywhere I go. This was key. I didn’t want the notebook to be precious or intimidating. I’m not coming up with the next brilliant painting, just jotting down the brain farts as they come. A weirdly shaped tree. A conversation overheard on the tram. The way the light hits your coffee cup just right at 3:27 pm.
It was diary, sketchbook, notebook, to-do list book, quotes book, research book. Everything at once. Nothing was too insignificant to put into this book.
When I say wrote (and write) everything down, I mean everything. Every half-baked thought, every strange or silly idea, every fleeting moment of curiosity, every detail that captured my attention…I wrote/write it all down.
and this built something. like a loop. a trust. my brain started offering up more ideas, more regularly, because it knew I wasn’t going to immediately kill them.
and I think that’s kind of the whole point? or at least, it’s the thing I’ve been learning (slowly, stubbornly, while tripping over my own expectations (and letting them go, or trying to at least):
creativity isn’t just about making things. it’s about noticing things. it’s about collecting things.
and then making something because you noticed.
which brings me to one of my favourite quotes of all time:
“pay attention to what you pay attention to”
- Amy Krouse Rosenthal
Not only was I building a well of inspiration to pull from, but once I realised those were the things showing up in my notebook, again and again, it felt like a breadcrumb trail back to my own voice. like: oh. this is what I care about. this is what’s shaping (or maybe should be?) my work, even if I don’t always realise it while I’m doing it.
also: I’m slowly learning that the things I care about don’t have to make sense to anyone else. my interests can be sprawling and strange and deeply „uncool“ and still worthy of attention. I’m not a factory. I’m a field. and sometimes weird things grow there.
I’m interested in so many different things—history, mythology, books, fantasy worlds, language, art history, sports, folklore, video games, etc.—and it’s taken me a long time to realise that all of these interests are a well of inspiration or at least they feed the well that feeds inspiration. They’re not distractions. They’re resources.
And I think as artists, it’s so important not to get so wrapped up in the work that you forget to actually live your life. Your experiences, hobbies, and interests (etc etc) are what make your work uniquely yours. If you don’t allow yourself to be curious, to dive into the things that light you up, you’ll end up running on empty. And I don’t just mean “curious” in the traditional sense, like researching a subject or reading a book. I mean the little, everyday curiosities too. like the way the sunlight hits your window at a certain time of day, or the pattern on your friend’s sweater, or the strange way a plant is growing in your yard, the fabulous coffee mug in a magazine. Those little moments can be just as inspiring as the big, sweeping ones.
I also just want to say, because I feel like it’s important: none of this is a quick fix. It’s a slow, have-to-trust-the-process kind of thing. You just (what a tricky word) have to keep doing it. It’s the work happening before the work. All of it is part of “the painting”. Even if I haven’t picked up a brush yet.
So I guess my one piece of advice is
Write.✍️ It. ✍️ All. ✍️ Down. ✍️( doesn’t have to be a physical notebook btw, you can totally use the notesapp, my personal favourite app on my phone, my brain just works better with pen and paper)
Notice things. Pay attention. Honour your dumb ideas. Your strange thoughts. be curious. research things. follow the strange, weird little things you care about.
Become a collector of those things. Your job is to gather everything that sparks something in you: thoughts, phrases, images, colours, shapes, textures, quotes, memories, stories, facts, anything that feels exciting or interesting. Collect it all. even if it don’t “make sense” yet. even if it never does. that’s fine.
we’re not here to be efficient (which was (still is honestly, I loooove being efficient) a tough lesson to learn, let me tell you).
we’re here to notice.
Because if you do this long enough, you realise you’ve built your own little library. your own museum of fragments. and when you sit down to make something, you’re not starting from scratch. you’re pulling from this weird, rich, deeply you archive (which sounds obnoxious and slightly cringe (although I hate that word) but it is true). And I think the more you add to this library, the more you feed that little art gremlin in your brain (or inner feral rat, or chaotic muse, or whatever you like to call it), the more it will start leaving you presents or at least show up. The point is, you’re not running on empty, you have this whole well, this library, this collection to pull from. You’re not trying to conjure something from nothing.
I see it as I’m building conditions for inspiration to show up. Not forcing it. Not demanding brilliance on command. Just...making a space where it might want to visit you know?
Also, shockingly, I’ve been learning that sometimes the best thing you can do for your work is to step away from it. Take a break. Like, close the sketchbook. Literally. Put the pencil down. Step away from the canvas. Go outside. Listen to some birds. Or music. Or take a nap. Scroll Pinterest for two hours and call it “visual research,” I don’t care. The point is: you can’t squeeze something good out of the work by holding it in a death grip. (which to me sounds instantly suspicious but I fear it is working)
There’s this very intense energy that can creep in when I’m working on something, especially if I’m working on something that I deem as “important”, like, “if I just push harder, something will happen,” and sometimes that’s true but more often, for me at least, it just leads to a kind of creative tunnel vision. Everything starts to feel too precious or too fragile or too frustrating. And that’s when I know I’ve gotten too tense, too tight, too verkrampft. Too clenched. Too in-my-own-way. (what me? in my own way?!)
And I think this notebook practice is really helping me with that. It’s by my side whenever I notice something, or I want to capture a weird thought. Things in there are loose. Messy. Imperfect. Unfinished. Un-serious(!!!!!). Which is actually kind of huge, because like I said for the longest time I had this deep, unspoken belief that if something wasn’t clearly leading somewhere, if it wasn’t “useful”, then it was a waste of time or not worthy of capturing.
It’s kind of like, you’re still in motion even when you’re technically taking a break for example. You’re still feeding the work. Your little art gremlin. Your inspiration. But, you know, in gentle way. You’re not trying to force feed it. Which tends to work better for me than trying to brute-force my way through a dry spell. (weird, who knew??)
Basically I’ve been learning that staying close to the work doesn’t always mean making the work. Sometimes that means researching something. Paying attention. Writing down something dumb. Sometimes it’s going for a walk. Trust me when I say, that your brain is still doing something behind the scenes, even if you’re just lying on the floor eating a snack.
And this is also why I really, truly believe you have to trust what you’re interested in (and write it down!!!). Even if it seems random. Even if it feels irrelevant. Even if it leads you down a weird rabbit hole that makes no sense in the moment. Because that’s often where things click later. Like your brain’s been quietly gathering puzzle pieces, and suddenly, they just... line up. and then BOOM! Inspiration!
I’ve been blabbing on for too long, so that’s all. I think. For now at least.
if you’re reading this far, thank you. thank you for being here. I hope you feel encouraged to gather your weird ideas like tiny treasures and treat them like they matter. because they do.
more soon. probably about sketchbooks.
it’s now 12:38am and I should be asleep but I’m not. so. okay. goodnight
xx
Elisabeth (or Theo if you like)
I loved this, and the notebooks! “Im not a factory. I'm a field. and sometimes weird things grow there.” Beautiful! My moto when making any art is that it is an inherently valuable, playful act :)