Dogwood Chapter 11

Creativity is a Coil

Lately, I’ve been feeling like I’m holding a bow and arrow pulled taught. Like Robin Hood. The sexy fox version, obvi. I just don’t know where exactly to point my focus and loose. Because I’m sorry to inform you that I have so much inspiration right now and so many artsy thoughts bouncing around my lil brain.

Truly, there’s a bullseye target down the tunnel of any number of creative projects. I don’t know where to point this glorious tension I’ve drawn through my bowstring. But now that I’m writing it all out, maybe that’s the wrong image to use. Maybe creativity isn’t a bow and arrow. Maybe it’s actually a coil. A spring pressed down, ready for its tension to release and catapult. The thing about a coil or a spring, as opposed to an arrow, is its energy spirals out from itself and approximates a trajectory, like a pinball launch. The arrow darts, but the spring bounces. Boi-oi-oi-oing.

If there’s anything I’ve learned about creativity, it’s that I’ll never hit the bullseye from my imagination no matter how hard I try. And actually, I think the least interesting projects are the ones where the final result is too close to their vision. Creativity requires serendipity. Creativity rebounds on itself and sends energy into new pockets to bounce around in. If you told me at our first rehearsal “this is what the dance piece will look like” and then we actually make that show precisely… I’d rather you keep the pretty story you wrote in advance. I can’t imagine the dance in practice works as well as it did on your little paper. We as artists should be challenged through the process. This whole Dogwood thing you’re reading right now started off as a cabaret. We pivot when we learn more, but you can’t know if you don’t start.

Creativity, creation, is a gamble. Even with well-curated supplies, it takes a launch into the unknown. Forget the plan. Half the game pieces went missing anyway. Improvise. Look around at the world you have in front of you, the world that didn’t stick to the plan. This thing we’re all doing is not merely loosing an arrow with confidence.

We’re bouncing on springs as the earth shifts around us. We launch, touch down, and launch again. Dancing all the while. An arrow thuds and stops. I’m not stopping are you? Ok actually ya know what, stop pretending that I’m holding a bow. Picture me on a spring. Wound tight.

I think I’m just about ready to pull the lever and let go.