The Creative Drive
I’ve known for a long time that I don’t see the world quite the same way as most people. I’ve been known to be weird, odd, out of step, Aquarian, or just plain strange. I’m good at getting the wrong end of the stick in a conversation, and in group learning, my answers are always off centre of the norm. But it is my way of viewing the world that makes me the artist I am. So here I am going to blatantly share some of my points of inspiration, some of those personal moments that just spark for me and make me want to create. And perhaps I can share that spark, too.
I took my daughter to the park across the road from us last Sunday. She’s been there many times before, so the play equipment has kinda lost its thrill for the moment, so we wandered around picking up sticks. We ended up sticking sticks in the sand beneath the swings and making a little house. This led onto using big sticks amongst the trees to make a cubbyhouse.
And it got me thinking. You see, KJ wasn’t the driving force behind the sudden building frenzy, I was. Looking back, I started wondering about why I suddenly started building a cubbyhouse in the middle of a public park. It had me thinking back to when I was a kid. I always used to do that kind of thing. I’d dam creeks, build secret hiding places, if I was sitting in tall grass, I’ll try to weave it into some strange creation, often wishing I knew how to weave a basket. I used to dig up clay at a friend’s house and make sculptures out of it, I loved to make dough and sculpt with that, the beach was all about sandcastles and writing in the sand.
It made me realise that the drive to create has always been there, and basically, if you left me in a room full of random objects and I was bored, chances are I’d create something out of them. Not that the results are anything to write home about, but it is the necessity of the attempt that has me thinking.
Do you find yourself driven to make something? If given homework at school, did you hand yours up neatly written, but plain, or neatly written and decorated with multicolour penwork? What do you think is the force behind this need to create, make, or otherwise construct something out of anything?