How are ya? Is the fall weather perking you up, or leaving you drained? Are you settling in to a new routine, or feeling more at sea than ever?

Personally, I’m feeling a little better now than I was in the summer months. I think I felt a bit emotionally drained after releasing Masks (a project I’d spent nearly 5 years conceptualizing and meticulously crafting) during a global pandemic, and also not being able to play all of the summer gigs I had scheduled.

That said, I frequently get into a bit of slump in the winter months, so I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and imagining, searching for a way to connect the dots between my creative art-centered skills and the immediate chaos of life this year.

I think those of us that are professional artists inevitably find ourselves applying our creativity to digging ourselves out of logistical ruts and emotional pits. Of course, a global crisis IS a wholly unique situation, but I feel my September guests have nevertheless offered some applicable advice. Inspiration forthcoming…

September 2020 Featured:

It’s easy to picture the future you want as an arrival point down a singular path. I find, though, that sometimes we have to learn to see the pathway from “here to there” as branches. With every ounce of myself I believe that there are ALWAYS options, but they aren’t always easy to see. We have to practice looking for those branches. We have to get creative to see the multiplicity of potential routes, resources, next steps.

Every one of my September guests shared stories of seeing branches in place of a singular path.

I loved hearing Jason talk about just lurking on the set of “Touched By An Angel” when he couldn’t see another way to enter the film business. If this isn’t seeing an alternative route, I don’t know what is! He knew he wanted to work in film, and he knew this show was filming near his home…So he imagined a back-channel route! He found out where the show was filming, and just started showing up (sometimes I think “just start showing up” should be the unofficial motto of artists everywhere). He made himself a familiar presence. And more than that—he made himself a helpful familiar presence. Jason would say to the DP, “hey, I’m an able-bodied person, put me to work!” And slowly but surely, he was trusted with more and more important things. And all the while, he’s learning SO much about how a set works. And eventually, all of this helping and learning begins to transform into new opportunities, brand new branches, and the beginnings of an entire career (which, by the way, includes an Emmy win so….).

Nic is also someone who sees branches. He’s the kind of person who says YES to new opportunities. You can see it when you look at all of the different sorts of work he’s done. But, I want to share a more subtle from of branch-envisioning that has stuck with me since Nic’s interview. He tells a story about having his practice room habits questioned by fellow pianists. Being a firm believer in exploration and play, and also being genuinely awed and moved by the grandness of the piano itself, Nic would (probably still does!) sometimes sit in the practice room and just feel the keys beneath his fingers—listening to how slight changes in the angle or pressure of his fingertips would affect the sound of this booming instrument.

I want to include this example because it isn’t about a hustle, or networking, or anything external at all. It’s such a gorgeous illustration of the way that branch-mindedness can be beautifully simple. It can be the littlest of curiosities. It can be quiet, private shifts in the way we imagine, the way we see, and hear, and feel. I believe these kinds of very precious alterations in our ways of thinking and being can lead to IMMENSE and absolutely tangible changes in our lives. It’s a reminder that we can start so so so small.

We could also point to SO many instances in Rachel’s life in which she builds branches toward a career she had never actually seen, but could imagine. Again though, I want to focus on something a bit more nuanced. Toward the end of our chat, Rachel and I got to talking about how we apply creativity to listening and telling difficult stories. I love the idea that listening requires real faith. And I think this is also an example of willing a branch to materialize where previously there had been none. Extending faith toward a new idea, a new story, a new kind of person is SO powerful. I feel confident that this, especially, is pertinent to the kind of shared trauma we’re experiencing as a species this year…

Kristen (what an absolute gem of a human) talked with me about branchy-thinking as a problem-solving strategy. But again, I think there’s an even deeper idea to zoom into. As we were talking about feeling our usual creative habits a bit halted by quarantine, I confessed to Kristen that I had begun to notice a little creative thrill over fairly passive choices—for example, placing a potted plant in my bathroom window sill. I figured it was the lack of daily in-my-face creative pursuits (gigs gigs gigs gigs) that had drawn my attention to this kind of minutia. But, per usual, Kristen dropped some wisdom with nary a pause. She talked about how there can be active creativity in the passive beholding of a thing—how we can feel personally creative and fully lit up as we simply view something beautiful or interesting, or as we imagine the creative process behind another artist’s work.

I see this so clearly as branch-building. It’s almost backward, though! Like we’re imagining how something got the way it is. Like we’re imagining the branch that brought a thing to this point. I have to assume that this kind of thinking informs our brains in ways that make it increasingly effortless to picture new forward-reaching branches, as well.

I like this idea so much, I might need to write a lot more about it…What do you think? Is this hitting your brain like it’s hitting mine?

Rather than telling you about my conversation with Amber, I want to just look at a few of the sentences from her bio…

“When creating her work she seeks for quiet, rhythmic balance between contrasting or opposing elements. She sees these elements often present themselves in her observations and interpretations of motion versus stillness, literal versus symbolic, masculine versus feminine, decorative versus stark. Often these elements seem to conflict and to present difficulty when trying to exist side-by-side, yet often they do.”

UGH! I mean come on—can you imagine a more breathtaking paragraph? I am more taken with this than I could ever articulate. But once again we see evidence of creating or visualizing branches where they didn’t seem to be! And Amber has built a WHOLE career and body of work around these ideas!

So. As the days are growing shorter and colder, and as it seems the quarantine will never end, let’s try to take care of ourselves in whatever ways we need. What works for one won’t necessarily be what works for another—and that’s kind of the whole point of this conversation. When you have energy and when you don’t, look for the branches that DO seem climbable to you. Or look for branches that are shaped more like a slide, and just ease on down to where you need to be for the next moment in time.

I love, love, love you.

Em