Celtic Music as Creative Muse

For each petal on the shamrock.

This brings a wish your way

Good health, good luck, and happiness

For today and every day. 

-Irish Verse

The shamrocks on the postcard above caught my eye, when I was at a market in Frankfurt a few years ago, and I picked up the card (which is truly a New Year card) for its interesting mixture of symbolic imagery.  Paired with the Good Luck card from 1908, I thought that it was a fitting vintage postcard tribute to St. Patrick’s Day. 

Today, I thought that I would share a very Irish-inspired driver to my creativity, which is Celtic music.  About two years ago, I was working through a snowy weekend on an intensive project whose deadline had just been moved up a month.  Having been through all my usual music, I started hunting around for something more energizing than classical and not as distracting as rock.  That is when I decided to take a listen to the Celtic Sojourn radio on WGBH.org and a whole new genre of music opened before me—filled with spritely fiddles, moving aires, and folky ballads.

CelticSojourn is hosted by Brian O’Donovan, whose Irish lilt is a warm pairing for his musical knowledge as he “explores the roots and branches of traditional Irish music.”  Since that working-weekend two years ago, I have come to look forward to the three, well-crafted hours of music that Brian O’Donovan shares every Saturday afternoon from 3pm to 6pm (in what I believe may be one of the last remaining, truly independent music-based radio shows.)

And while I may prefer the fiddle over the moan of the ellenhorn, I will always welcome an Irish tune to inspire my state of creative flow.

Explore what Irish music does for your creative process and share here on The Paper Compass.  You can listen to Celtic Sojourn live every Saturday afternoon in the Boston area on 89.7 WGBH or online at WGBH.org from 3pm to 6pm. There is also a streaming radio feed to listen anytime, or you can select specific shows at: www.wgbh.org/celtic.

May the luck of the Irish be with you on this St. Patrick’s Day and every day!

   

Creativity, Incubation and the Case of the Missing Winter

Winter Wonderland: Vintage 1940s Postcard
"Greetings from New Hampshire/The Silvery Moonlight"

I think it is safe to say (with two weeks left until the spring equinox) that this is the winter that wasn’t.  Or, as they have been calling it at the yoga studio I attend, our "gentle winter."  While both of those ring true, I’ll admit I've had mixed feelings about this season of little to less snow, mild days and early-appearing perennials and it has less to do with weather and a lot to do with the creative process.

Like many things, such as the seasons, the creative process has four phases: Preparation, Incubation, Illumination, and Implementation.  Each one is a vital part of the creative process.  In Preparation, we do our research and our initial work on the idea, challenge or problem.  For the painter, this means stretching and priming the canvas.  For the marketing person, this means immersing themselves in the industry of their client.  We gather information related to what we want to accomplish.  All of this goes into our brains and, for lack of a more appealing word, churns. 

This begins what is understood to be the most critical and also the most mysterious phase of the creative process: Incubation.  In Incubation our subconscious takes over.  While we are washing the dishes, taking a nap, daydreaming as we gaze past our computer screen and out the window, the subconscious is following leads, discarding unnecessary information and trying out new directions.  Because this process happens outside of the guidance of our conscious mind, it is one that can be so easily disrupted by the urgency of the everyday.  The good news though, is that your subconscious is persistent, and to a certain extent likes to have your consciousness distracted. 

Which is why, when you get in the shower, are driving in the car, or are anywhere pretty much far away from where you do the physical work of your craft, you have the well-known lightening-strike-eureka-moment, when the light bulb comes on and you go racing for a pen and paper.  This is the Illumination phase which is known for its sense of urgency.  Illumination waits for no man or woman, and happens only when your subconscious has fully vetted the information.  This is why you should always have a sketchbook/idea book on you at all times, and also why in the corporate environment the creative process is often found frustrating for not running on schedule. 

From the important and often unpredictable phase of Illumination, which identifies exactly what is needed to solve the problem, or to craft the idea fully, you then move into the Implementation phase.  This is the phase where the idea takes shape in the physical world, becomes tangible, and then can be fully evaluated.     

The four phases of the creative process happen on their own schedule, sometimes messily overlapping with other ideas, and can be fragile.  The process, especially the Incubation and Illumination phases, can be easily disrupted—often by our own unfocused actions, but frequently by our environments which are always connected and accessible.  I found a great illustration of the importance of protecting the Illumination phase in the recent Entertainment Weekly article “Don of a New Era” about the return of the series Mad Men.  Author Dan Snierson writes of the show’s creator Mathew Weiner, “Because inspiration sometimes strikes at 40 mph, Weiner has instituted an unofficial rule for his arrival at the office. ‘No one can talk to me for, like, five minutes, so in case I thought of something in the car, I can write it down,’ he chuckles. 'I have serious pressure on my memory.'"

So what does this have to do with my missing winter?

For me, winter is my season of incubation.  The seeds of ideas and projects that often get sidelined due to my work and teaching schedule, wait for winter.  The snow slows things down.  People stay in.  The still magical “snow day” sometimes happens.  In winter, I return to those ideas, and it is a perfect season for a combination of preparation (reading, sketching, planning) and the activities that foster Incubation.  While I know this process runs constantly, a fire fed by my own stoking, I have come to observed that my overall creative process mimics the seasons: autumn is preparation; winter, incubation; spring, illumination; and summer (my favorite), implementation, when the ideas flow from my fingers into typed pages in the slow, hot afternoons.

So while it was a “gentle winter” it was also a very busy winter.  And now that it is almost behind us, I feel conscious of my creative process and how it has been different.  I remembered What to Do When You are in the Dark, and rather than trying to rush my creative process with a few projects I had planned to work on, I took the time to fuel the preparation and incubation process by spending some time looking, observing, and noting ideas.  (This is why you will see some changes here on The Paper Compass that I hope you will like.)  Most importantly spring is almost here, which ushers in one of the best seasons for my favorite creative thinking and Illumination tool: walking.

How has this season and its unusual weather patterns been different for you?  Do you notice any changes in your creative habits?  Have you observed the four phases of the creative process in your own work?  What kind of seasonal pattern do you observe with your creative process, if any?  To inspire you, especially if you are new to understanding the creative process, here are a few things to consider and experiment with:

• Preparation: This phase can be filled with an overwhelming combination of excitement for the inkling of the new idea and fear.  Go slowly and tell yourself that you are just exploring.  Exploring and learning are less threatening words to your judgmental mind, than New Endeavor!  Also, it is best to keep your idea to yourself at this time.  Nothing harms the creative and the creative process as much as outside critiques.  Preparation loves consistency, routine, reading, experiencing, prepping the work “space,” learning, and keeping the “secret” of the idea.  
• Incubation: This “mysterious” phase of the creative process does best when it is away from your usual work space.  It can be difficult to walk away from where you are trying to work, but it is truly for the best.  Incubation loves breaking out of your routine, new experiences, napping, daydreaming, and any activity that is not the current idea/project you are working on.
• Illumination: The most unpredictable of the four phases, Illumination loves walking, showering, repetitive activities such as sewing, and taking long drives.
• Implementation: The final phase of the creative process is anything but final.  It is the beginning of a lot of action, and a lot of mini-repetitive versions of the four steps of the creative process as many ideas often come together to make your Big Idea happen.  Implementation loves urgency, being in a state of flow, and not being interrupted.   

Nostalgia: Vintage Valentines

From elaborate expressions of love to elementary school exchanges, Valentine’s day is one of the rare remaining holidays where we still send, make and share memorable written sentiments (yay!).

The history of the paper Valentine is a long one, dating back to the 1400s.  By the mid-1800s Valentine’s were so popular they were being manufactured in factories, and by the end of the century were almost 100% created by machines with elaborate die cuts, shapes and even pop-up or moving parts.

Whether handmade or printed, the timelessness of paper Valentines is evident in the wonderful vintage postcards and printed cards that were saved and now can be found in excellent condition on the dusty shelves of antique shops.  I have recently expanded my collection of vintage Valentines, charmed by the history captured in the illustrations and the messages on the back. (One of my favorites, featured below with the graceful 1920s woman at her dressing table, addressed to a Miss Emily, says "I thought I would send you a Valentine, From your Scholar").

To celebrate Valentine’s Day on The Paper Compass, I thought I would share some of my favorite vintage Valentines from my collection. 

   

I like to give vintage Valentines a second life by color copying them and creating new Valentines.  It makes me happy that they’ll live another day to delight and share some love.

What is the most memorable paper Valentine that you made or received?  How about a paper Valentine tradition that you remember? (I can still remember the dry sugary scent of candy hearts eaten as we walked around the first grade class room putting Valentines into manila envelopes taped to the back of our desk chairs.)

Have a wonderful Valentine's Day!  Share your paper Valentine memories here on The Paper Compass.  

What To Do When You Are In The Dark

There is a reason that the birth of an idea is so frequently represented by the bright burst of a light bulb coming on, or the dazzle of a spark. This “ah ha!” moment is hard wired in our brains as a positive, pleasure giving experience and releases endorphins—which is why humans continue to discover, experiment and evolve. The iconic light bulb, and the spark, are symbolic visuals because having an idea or discovering a solution often “illuminates” the next step on the path to a goal. This could be something as complex as figuring out how to improve a work relationship, what needs to happen to a main character as the next plot point in a story, or as simple as figuring out a new configuration for your too stuffed closet (ok, maybe not so simple.)

But for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Or in other words, there is a ying for every yang. So this post, on a blog about discovering bright white wattages of ideas, is actually about the opposite. This is a post about what to do when you are “in the dark.”

To be “in the dark” usually means that you don’t have information available to you or that it is kept from, or unknown to you. While ideas illuminate the next step or express understanding, being in the dark encompasses a sense of blindness regarding the situation or a lack of direction.

One of the myths about ideas, and creativity, is that it comes easily. The truth is that creativity has many, many enemies. For me, and most people—and most companies—being overwhelmed or too busy is at the top of the list of creative roadblocks. When I get into The Busy, or have more ideas and tasks than I can count, all feeling of equal importance, I encounter moments of feeling that I don’t know the next step or have the right idea. This is when I feel “in the dark.”

While having one of these moments recently, I thought to myself, “if I was literally in the dark, the best thing to do would be to move slowly.” This awakened a memory of a long ago 6th grade art class, and one of our first projects, using blind contour to draw a portrait of one of our classmates. (Blind contour, for those of you who have somehow escaped this classic academic art exercise is where you look at something and draw it, while never looking at the paper and never picking up your pencil. You can look to the photo for this post for an example—I used blind contour to draw a light bulb.)

The teacher, whose name is long forgotten—but whose advice is not—told us this as a way to start the blind contour drawing:

“This is how I want you to think: How would you drive if you were kidnapped and put behind the wheel of a car blindfolded?”

(Never mind that it was 6th grade and none of us could drive.)

There was the usual awkward middle school silence and emphatic re-asking of the question, the teacher’s mane of curly red hair bobbing “How would you drive blindfolded?”

“You can’t,” came an answer.

“Yes you can! You would drive very slowly. And I want you to draw, vvveeeery sloooowly.”

So when I am feeling uncertain about the next step or overwhelmed by challenges that need solutions and I don’t have any readily available, I remind myself that I need to move slowly and gently. The answers will come through small steps. Most importantly, have patience with finding your way, because the answer always comes, like a light bulb flicking on, even when you are in the dark.

What do you do when you feel “in the dark” on a problem or idea? Are there any techniques or creative tools, such as morning pages that you’ve found helpful? To inspire you, especially if you are feeling “in the dark,” or stymied in your progress towards a goal, here are a few suggested techniques to put in motion to illuminate your thinking:

• Walk away from it: Think about where you do your best thinking—it is usually a different place from where you do your best “working.” When you are stuck, and ideas are just not forthcoming, one of the best things you can do is go do something else. Change your scenery by talking a walk, going for a drive, seeing a movie, or just stepping away for a moment to refresh your brain.
• Embrace mundane tasks: Julia Cameron in her book “Vein of Gold” recommends putting together a pile of items that need mending. When you get stuck on a project, sit down with the mending, ask a question, and then sew up the holes in socks and put buttons back on shirts. In an hour, not only will you have accomplished a household task, but you will also probably have the answer to your question. I, personally, find doing the dishes is also a great form of meditation. And folding the laundry is another good one.
• Organizing: Sometimes our external environments can begin to reflect our internal mind. I find that if my desk is messy, my thinking is messy. When the next step on a path to a goal is not apparent or the goal seems unobtainable, I recommend finding the physical area in your home that is associated with that challenge and then do a deep clean and reorganization of it. While your desk or office may be an obvious choice, this can also be applied to goals such as eating healthy. If you keep finding yourself nibbling your way through the kitchen in the afternoon, then do a deep clean of your refrigerator and pantry. Put a big bowl of oranges and apples on the counter, and healthy choices right where you can spot them if you open the fridge.

Creativity Exercise "Five Lives": Let Your Imagination Do Some Trick-or-Treating

This Halloween, don’t only dress up in a costume, let your imagination dress up in some imaginary lives and see what they say to you.

This morning, I walked into the kitchen, where overnight the blood splattered blade of a guillotine magically appeared. Skulls hung in dirty nets above the sink. In my largest Cuisinart pot was a boiling concoction filled with bones that smelled as bad as it looked.

It is two days before Halloween.

Every year in our household, the last weeks of October gather into a maelstrom of dark and gory creativity as my boyfriend preps his props for the (terrifying) haunted house that he runs at a local country club. With the apartment looking like Jack Skellington’s workshop, and class prep on my mind, I was inspired to take a different angle and think about the lighter-side of Halloween today. Not the traditional meaning of the holiday, but the actual traditions—such as dressing up in costume.

This put me in mind of one of the activities from Julia Cameron’s The Artist Way that she calls Imaginary Lives (and I call Five Lives for ease of remembering).

It is a simple activity, not to be over-thought, where you list what you’d be if you had five other lives to lead. I suspect that this is actually an activity that everyone indulges in to a certain amount everyday in their imagination, which is why it becomes very powerful to put pen to paper and see what lives are officially calling to you.

My list today includes:
1. Secret Agent
2. Sea Captain (circa 1880)
3. Stationery & Gift Shop Owner
4. Best Selling Author (paperback “trashy” romances)
5. Yoga Teacher

This exercise has two very important elements to it that relate to creativity and inspiration. The first is that through seeing what lifestyles or careers are sparking your imagination, you can dig a little deeper and see what themes each of the lives has that make it so attractive. (This digging is important, because frankly as much as I like the idea of being a circa 1880 Sea Captain, it would: a.) be impossible due to restrictions in time travel. And b.) I like hot showers.)

Through a light “digging” into each of my five lives, I discover:
1. Secret Agent = Mystery + Adventure + Action
2. Sea Captain (c. 1880) = Adventure + Exploration + New Horizons + Travel + Courage
3. Shop Owner = Independence + Creativity + Merchandising + My Own Space + Action + Community + Sharing Happiness
4. Best Selling Author (Romances) = Writing + Creativity + Sharing Happiness + Fun + Research
5. Yoga Teacher = Healthy Body + Energy + Sharing Happiness

As you can see from my list, there are some themes such as Adventure and Sharing Happiness. These are two things that I can then brainstorm (or mind map) on how to incorporate into my real life, rather than it just be an impulse that manifests itself in my imagination.

Which brings me to the second valuable inspiration element of the Five Lives activity: action and incorporation.

There are two directions you can take the results of the activity once it is on paper. You can take the idea of the lives at face value, and use a creative medium to explore that life. For instance, I could write a one page sketch of my inner Sea Captain (that could lead to an awesome character for a longer story). Or, I could plan a trip down to tour the USS Constitution in Boston Harbor. Or, I could watch Master and Commander: Far Side of the World.

If I explore this from the themes that being a c. 1880 Sea Captain represents in my imagination, I can think about ways that I can add some adventure to my life. Maybe I begin to think about planning a trip, or learning something new in order to appease the desire for new horizons or adventure.

There are many, many ways to leverage this simple activity. Use it as a way to enrich your everyday life, which in turn, nourishes your creative self.

This Halloween, don’t only dress up in a costume, let your imagination dress up in some imaginary lives and see what they say to you.

Inspired? I'd love to hear about your imaginary lives! Share here on The Paper Compass.

In Creativity: The Importance of Postmortems

In creative endeavors, as in life, it is worth learning from—but not dwelling on—your successes and your failures.

The past few weeks have been busy in way that is unique to the beginning of the fall semester. Schedules change, routines change, the weather changes; autumn is a time of transition. Yet, the last few months of the year are also filled with tradition and annual milestones such as the first day of school, holidays and holy days that give us a feeling of familiarity. Through this dichotomy, I find that autumn is an intuitive time of year to meditate on change and progress.

With the advent of Halloween only a few weeks away, I thought I would share one of my favorite (and most morbid sounding) post-creative project evaluation techniques that we discuss in Creative Thinking & Problem Solving, the class that I teach in the Emerson College graduate Integrated Marketing Communication (IMC) program.

At the beginning of every semester, I have the students read and discuss the insightful Harvard Business Review article “How Pixar Fosters Collective Creativity” by Ed Catmull. The article is one of my favorites as it relates to understanding and appreciating the four dimensions of creativity: People, Place, Process, and Product. Through these “4 P’s of Creativity” the problem solving process and institutional architecture that powers Pixar Animation Studios' success and vision with movies such as Toy Story and Up are revealed to be tangible and consistent solutions that can be applied to ironing out the kinks in a major motion picture—or, due to their structure and simplicity—applied in order to empower your own creative process.

One of the techniques, that Pixar employs after a movie has been completed, is called a Postmortem. This is where, rather than just celebrating the launch of a movie and sweeping several years of stress, trial, and triumph under the rug, the company rounds up the team to reflect on the process and data and create a record of learned experiences for future projects. As Ed Catmull notes, “…although people learn from the postmortems, they don’t like to do them.” To be relevant to end of the project, and the point in the process where usually people want to move on, a Postmortem is a balance of both positive and negatives. At Pixar, the team lists the top five things they would do again as well as the top five things they would not do regarding the project. This is combined with the data from the project to create a final and factual big picture of lessons learned.

While I am a creative, I am also a project manager at heart and the idea of a Postmortem speaks to me. Creative people have a tendency to see solutions quickly, coupled with a willingness to take on new experiences, which often leads to projects that are started quickly, muddled through in the middle, and then finally finished in the dark hours of the morning, fueled by coffee and a pending deadline. I am no exception to this. Introducing the Postmortem to my endeavors, be they professional or personal, has helped me create reminders of what I can do differently to make the next project more successful, the process smoother and everything less stressful. Granted, there will always be new and unforeseen circumstances when embarking on a creative project, but understanding what worked, or should be avoided as learned from previous projects is an invaluable experience, and a great way to stimulate your own thinking process.

There are no special tools, or set-in-stone instructions for Postmortems. In fact, Pixar usually mixes up the Postmortem routine in order to make sure that they always gain new insights. On a basic level, you want to set aside time to document in your sketchbook or a master project file the five things that you would do again (or that went well) and the 5 things that you would not do again (or that went poorly) as they relate to your project or creative endeavor. From this, I usually have some mind mapping type lines that connect to ideas for avoiding or cultivating future solutions as needed. Most important: make sure to place the Postmortem somewhere that it can be referenced in the future!

Do you currently use a postmortem-like process for any of your projects, creative endeavors, or in general? Is it similar to the Pixar Postmortem? In what ways is it different? What do you personally find as the most effective way to learn from a completed project? Share your thoughts here on The Paper Compass.

To inspire your thinking, here are a few of the ways (usual and unusual) that I have found to successfully apply the Postmortem technique:

• Books: This summer, I was SO EXCITED that the long awaited volume, A Dance with Dragons, in George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire (for those of you watching HBO it is Game of Thrones) series was released, but I was also lamenting that after six years, I could not remember what characters had been left where and in what peril. In the case that it is six more years until the next book comes out, I wrote a “postmortem” cheat sheet when I finished the book and tucked it into the back cover of the last volume.

• Holidays: Every year, I do a short Postmortem the first week of January, which evaluates the triumphs and trials of Christmas. Not only am I reminded what gifts were a success (or forgotten in the back of the closet), I also always have ready the travel information (phone numbers, hotels, etc.) on hand for the following year—which makes the holiday travel (slightly) less stressful.

• Teaching: At the end of every semester I do a Postmortem on the class and what materials were successful or not successful. In the spirit of Pixar’s data collection, I review my notes from each class and determine what exercises worked or failed, and what I can introduce to improve them. Sometimes, if a particular class did not go as I was anticipating, I will enact an Immediate Postmortem in order to get things back on track or customize the material and timing to the different learning habits of the students in that semester.

• Parties: Postmortums and parties go hand in hand. This is how the following year I remember to use the crock pot, buy plastic bowls that are heat resistant, and have a good idea of how many bottles of red and white wine will be needed, and how many will be brought. Better party, much less stress. Thanks Postmortem!

From a Stationery Store in the Heart of Boston, Remembrances of September 11th

I was not prepared for the events of the work day following 9-11. When you think about stationery, people tend to think letters, wedding invitations, birth announcements and other happy items. But paper plays an important role in all life occasions—including death.

The morning of September 11th, found me folding laundry and watching the CNN morning news on my day off from my job as a manager for Crane & Co. Paper Makers, a stationery store at that time located at the Prudential Center in the heart of Boston. As the first images of the devastation came on TV, I remember standing in front of the screen, a pillow case held mid-fold in disbelief, with the sinking sensation that something very serious was happening. Within minutes of the first tower being hit, the phone rang. It was the associate manager from the store, wanting to know if something important was going on as they had received a “stand-by for further announcements” automated message from the Prudential Center. It felt surreal to explain the stories coming in on the news and to tell them to hold tight and do exactly what the Prudential Center instructed them to, even if that meant locking up and closing the store for the day. Then, like everyone else, I was held a captive witness to the devastating images and news on TV.

For me, that was only the beginning of my experiences connected to September 11th. Strangely, by being in the stationery business, it was the days after September 11th that made the devastation and heartbreak human and personal.

On Wednesday, September 12th, I walked to work, like I did every morning, from the Fenway to The Prudential Center. The city was eerily subdued for a week day work morning. Sirens could be heard, which vividly evoked the sounds and images from the TV the day before. I felt filled with adrenaline. As I walked along the Christian Science Reflecting Pool, a fighter jet flew overhead toward the financial district, and in the fading of the defining and heart bounding roar, I remember thinking, nothing will ever be the same.

I was not prepared for the events of the work day following 9-11. When you think about stationery, people tend to think letters, wedding invitations, birth announcements and other happy items. But paper plays an important role in all life occasions—including death.

The first call I took that morning was from the newly widowed wife of one of the pilots killed in the hijackings. She was calling to order sympathy acknowledgement cards. Her voice held the contrasting notes of logical calm and bewilderment. Having lost my father only two months earlier, it was a combination I knew well from grief. At the end of the call, after giving me her address for shipping, she asked for all possible privacy to be taken with her information as so many people were contacting her. There are reporters in the front yard, she said. After the call, I walked quickly to the backroom, needing a moment off the floor, feeling breathless and holding back tears as I absorbed the reality, not of images on TV, but of the people whose lives were forever changed by the attacks.

The rest of that day, and the days that followed, were emotionally wrenching. Several of our corporate customers had lost employees in the hijacked flights that left Boston. We sold black leather bound guest books for memorials, black bound books for remembrances, black pens to sign them with, black bordered sympathy acknowledgements. There were many moments of standing in the backroom looking for a boxed product, trying to remember a SKU, and feeling heartbroken over the story of lost that you had just heard.

Each night that week, I would closed up the store and, beginning the walk home, marvel at the emptiness of the Prudential Center. It felt as though the city was under a self-imposed curfew. The beat of my shoes echoed as I walked through the empty corridors, which are usually always filled with a steady stream of people.

About two weeks after the attack, on the first day commercial planes were given permission to fly again, I was on my dinner break, at the long since gone, Sbarro pizza place in the Copely Mall. It was a favorite haunt of mine for the quiet, the pizza and the view of the skyline of South Boston. From where I sat, starring out at the cloudy twilight, I began to see the lights of planes lining up to land at Logan. This sight, and its normalcy, after so many days of horrific images, heartbreaking stories and uncertainty in the aftermath of the attacks, filled me with an overwhelming feeling of hope. To this day, I still remember how the line of planes coming in to land looked remarkably beautiful, like a loose string of shinning diamonds against the gray evening sky.