Leaning toward creative work

The physics of moving your foot.

With my photography studio now closed, I have more time available to involve myself with other creative loves. Right now, I’m warming up to the idea of making a cigar box guitar for a friend.

Sometimes when I’m beginning a new project though, I wonder if I really know what I’m doing.

It’s hard not to doubt the element of magic that underpins any creative work, especially this time, as it has been five years since I built one of these little guys. Questions arise: Will I remember that first step? The second and third? Will the finished instrument actually play?

Well, I must know something about this. I have four perfectly beautiful, me-built instruments at home that I play and write songs with, have even recorded music with. And I have written a few books on the subject.

Still, there’s a special kind of apprehension I experience at the beginning that inspires me to come up with ideas about things I really must do first, before I can get started.

Like build a new workbench (which I did), or organize my tools (which I haven’t done yet).

When I was operating my studio, the bulk of my creative work was also part of a commercial relationship, with client happiness and employee livelihoods on the line. I had clear impetus. Actual appointments!

Even after thousands of sessions though, in those moments before taking the first photo, with camera in hand and people and dogs in front of me, I’d often think: How am I going to do this? Where do I start?

Even for experienced artists, there will always be a gap between the perfection of our concepts and the finished works, and that foreknowledge explains part of this hesitancy to step into a new project.

It seems to me that to a large degree, allowing ourselves to want what we want also requires making peace with the idea that much of the time, the manifestation of our desire will be imperfect and/or incomplete. So I’d also like to say something point-blank about imperfection, because I know it’s the thing most likely to stop you from saying yes.

You do not have to do this perfectly. — Jeannine Ouellette

I’ve watched and shared this Ira Glass video (below) numerous times, and it always reminds me of the Zen idea of shoshi—beginner’s mind, which is a good place from which to undertake any new project, regardless of your level of experience.

Don’t think too hard, don’t plan too much. If you lean toward your work until you have to move your foot or fall, the first step just happens .