I’m not a fan of multi-tasking.
But last weekend, I grabbed some supplies from my studio and brought them home to experiment in my kitchen between other home activities like cleaning and making food.
I guess this isn’t really multi-tasking in the sense of doing multiple things at once, it’s more like exploring the flexibility of space and segment of time.
I’ve been thinking a lot about portable practice. On trips out of town, I take my yoga mat with me and continue my daily practice in other places. Mostly unfinished patio decks that give me splinters if I’m not careful, but the fresh air always feels so good. Other times, it’s the small yoga-mat-shaped space between the bed and the wall in a small airbnb or hotel room.
It’s important to me to stay consistently connected to my practice.
So on a weekend when I am spending time with my family and not in the studio, but I am also inspired by the Lupine seed pods in my front yard and what color they will make, why wait until Monday? Usually, I would wait until Monday because I try to set predictable boundaries between work and family, but it’s also so easy to simmer the mysteries out of the plants on the kitchen stove, and doing so doesn’t need to have a work-shaped box around it.
When my son sees me doing creative things for fun and curiosity, he is led by example. I hope he does the same in his life merely because he sees that it is possible.
Spoiler alert, the seed pods made a greenish dirty yellow.
I grabbed my alum and soda ash and my scale from the studio and brought it into my kitchen so I could make pigment. One little step here, wait a while, one little step there, wait overnight, etc. It made me feel like my creative practice was easily integrated into my life that weekend.
So I did the same with more plants from my yard the following weekend.
I realize that there is a part of myself that feels extremely satisfied by the small and simple act of connection to my practice, and how a small connection is actually a huge gesture. Outcomes and large blocks of practice time aren’t the only devotional (or satisfying) experiences. Even the tiniest little step into to my practice is a step in the direction of the whole thing, which feels very positive. It feels, surprisingly, enough. Picking up a rock. Taking note about what plants are growing by the studio mailbox (I think it might be buckthorn!!!). Taking a photo of an inspiring color. These are all very small things that keep me feeling close to my practice.
Practice is portable!
There is also something here about boundaries.
And when is it good to obliterate them.
I am used to hearing a lot about scenarios for setting and maintaining boundaries. But what about scenarios where you find that the boundaries you set up, either intentionally or subconsciously, are actually inhibiting your growth or sense of freedom?
There is this theme in my life lately around knowing which boundaries are appropriate and which are not. There are some boundaries that are always helpful and necessary. Other times you see your creativity as a box with little dividers in it separating seashells from rocks from little fossils and you can’t help but want to take the dividers out and shake up the box a little, or break down the walls of the box entirely.
What do you think?
More soon, thanks for reading!
I've been thinking about boundaries and containers when it comes to my creative practice lately too. What is done for joy, what is done for work. What needs to be contained within "work" hours and what needs to be loosened because it's more than just work, or it's THE work?
I have dedicated Fridays this summer to the studio, and one of the boundaries I set for myself was no client work. And then I was in a panic because I needed to do some client work on a Friday to meet the deadline and it came with guilt and disappointment in myself. And while I do think it's important to prioritize personal practice, I did the client work that day and was reminded that it is all a filter for my creativity, and that can be good work for my practice too. If sometimes things spill out of their containers, maybe they can enrich one another too.
Yes to shaking up the box! Boundaries can feel healthy but they can also be really limiting. I would like to be able to close the door, be alone, and concentrate more regularly, but that's not likely to happen any time soon. So instead of sticking to that vision, I try to adapt and see what I can make in pockets of time. I've been doing this for a long time, and it's probably time to trust that I can make something pretty interesting even when circumstances aren't idyllic or I need to break some rules.