A Retreat to… and from… Creativity

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Our creative space at the 2016 Create & Incubate Retreat – thanks for the photo Kimberly!!

It’s a shock that I got any sleep at all. My social anxiety and a fear of flying solo across the country had my stomach so twisted I almost forgot to eat breakfast… if you don’t know me, that’d be like a frog forgetting to how to hop, it just doesn’t happen.

Worries, real and imagined infected every thought that swam past the back of my eyeballs. Will a flock of geese bring down my plane? Would I even survive on a deserted island? Will my connecting flight connect? Or will I be held up at the anal probing section of airport security?

Should I trip that girl cutting the line? Better play it safe and just will her to trip herself… After several hours of inner banter and turmoil I arrived in San Jose only an hour late and with both my shuttle man, Zack, and my new friend, Pam, ready to whoosh me off to Los Gatos for five days of creative bliss.

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Pam showing off some gorgeous art! She’s been exploring a series that features her client’s word of the year.

I might use creativity in my everyday life… photography and writing are like my arms, I love them and I know how to use them almost subconsciously, but there’s something about obligations and deadlines that lowers the fun factor drastically. Not all creations need to have a purpose, and I was soooooo ready to make things for no reason!

Zack whipped us around the narrow road that wound steeply up the mountain to the Presentation Center as he, Pam, and I BSed about weather, wildfires, and how we came across Melissa and her creative retreat.

We were early, but Randi, a mosaic artist who was a 4-time retreat returnee, was even earlier.

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Randi with the mosaic heart she created for a heart disease related charity. Isn’t it beautiful?! See more of Randi’s work here.

“What’s your creative thing?” Randi was returning my question, and I had the urge to justify my presence. I’d already seen Pam’s beautiful art via email, when we arranged to share a shuttle from the airport, and now I stood before another, no-doubt, uber-talented artist.

Fortunately, five years of reading Melissa’s blog had prepared me to catch myself in the act of self-doubt. I didn’t tell Randi that I wasn’t a real artist who doesn’t really know how to draw… but that’s what I thought.

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Melissa showing some of the calligraphy she created for her Instagram feed as her posts went viral and her followers doubled!

Instead, I told her that I’m a photographer (my confident artist title) and that I left my camera at home and brought a limited amount of markers to play with. Now as I replay this memory, I guess what I actually said was just a sugarcoated version of “I’m a real artist, really, but my ‘real’ art isn’t here right now, so please don’t judge me… I just want to play with some art supplies I have no experience with.”

Huh… I still have to work on that I guess…

But even though I was still, apparently, defending myself, I can also tell you that was the moment I dropped my guard. I knew I was being ridiculous, I didn’t have to justify myself because I was with my people in a safe space.

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Amy was hard at work on the nitty gritty details of producing her play! She took some time away from her laptop to play and these altered book covers were the beautiful result!

Melissa pulled into the parking lot several minutes later with Amy riding shotgun. Everyone was hugging and kissing hellos, and as soon as Melissa saw me she threw her hands up, “Rebekah!” she said as she pulled me into a hug. You’d never guess it was the first time she met me.

Next thing I knew Kimberly had arrived, and from the purple streak in her hair and her pioneer potty mouth, I solidified my earlier assumptions: these are my people.

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Kimberly created several watercolor studies at our retreat! Here is the last one in progress, and I just love the Zentangle elements she started to add – Kimberly is a Zentangle Instructor too

We all worked together to set up the “Incubator,” our creative space for the retreat, and we were like a family reuniting.

I’m not sure if it’s me getting older or me getting more intuitive, but I immediately felt at home with these women. I was having a déjà vu party all week long, like I’d known them all forever.

It wasn’t until the next day that Josiah, Amy’s hubby, showed up. Just like Randi, Amy and Josiah were also longtime veterans of the Create and Incubate retreat. The family vibe I got was very real.

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Josiah got busy creating the first pages of his graphic novel about a character who is discovering his way out of the 1st dimension! Great story and art!

That first morning I was pleasantly surprised by Melissa’s catalyzing sessions, they weren’t just motivating and energizing, they were hysterically fun too. We played all kinds of games that connected us first as individuals, and then, it often felt as if we became one entity.

This might seem like a weird analogy, especially coming from me, but it was a somewhat religious experience. Being raised as a Jehovah’s Witness, my first experience inside a Catholic church was quite jarring. I joined my best friend’s family at mass one Sunday after a sleepover, and the droning, monotonous tone that buzzed out of the pews truly alarmed me.

It was during one of our games that this memory came back to me. As we chanted, “hoo-ha, hoo-ha,” moving up and down to the beat, it was the very first time I understood how comforting a tribe-like chant could feel. I finally got it… twenty-something years later, I could finally relate to those churchy chanters.

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Drawing and photo by Kimberly – it’s a representation of our bunny game!!!

Of course we were not worshipping the hoo-ha god at the retreat, that was just how one game started.

Just imagine eight people standing in a circle, one person saying, “bunny-bunny,” two people saying, “tookie-tookie,” and the remaining five chanting, “hoo-ha, hoo-ha,” all at the same time. Now imagine a different set of body movements for each of those roles, and the people playing those roles are constantly changing as the chanting gets faster and faster.

One of two things happens during these games, we get into a flow, or we eff it all up and find ourselves in a fit of hysterics. The bunny game was just one of many games we played, and whether we were in our zones of genius or cracking up at our mistakes, we were always having fun.

When we weren’t playing games, chatting at mealtimes, or sleeping, we were creating. With a never-ending list of creative projects it took me a long time to narrow down what I would do during the retreat. I wanted to experiment with something new, but by the time I’d decided on markers it was too late to order them online.

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All the tools I used!

I rushed through the aisles of AC Moore to discover a very limited selection of Prismacolor markers. They also were waaaaaay more expensive sold as individuals than the package prices I saw online. I picked a pretty blue and purple, and the colorless blender I was dying to play with, but I was inexperienced with blending colors, so I grabbed all of the cool grays; they were the only ones I was sure would work together. I also knew that limiting myself would make me more creative AND limit any unnecessary decision-making.

When I started unpacking my supplies, I discovered that I’d accidentally bought one warm gray marker and internally rolled my eyes at myself. “Great, I wasted money on this one random warm marker, and now I’m probably missing a cool gray,” I mentally reprimanded myself.

Once I let go of my expectations, though, I started to play, and soon realized that this one mistake I’d made at the store had led to so much creative discovery. I started out blending the grays into gradients, then I played around with the colorless blender and fell in love with the way it created watermark-like strokes when used on top of the other colors. For shits and giggles I decided to try the warm gray on top of the various cool grays and I fell in love with those results too.

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Here are the effects of the colorless blender on top of warm gray (top 2 cards) and a combo of the blender and warm gray on top of cool gray (bottom 2 cards).

I played with as little thought about the outcome as I could manage. No deadlines, no guidelines, no audience, no price tag, just making something for making something’s sake. With every index card made that I hated, I learned how to make something I could hate a little less. I even made a few things that I loved.

I hadn’t done a true show and tell since elementary school, the last time I showed my work it was in my 1st year of college, but that was more of a critique session than a show and tell. I was pretty intimidated seeing all the beautiful art everyone created on the 1st day, and I wasn’t really looking forward to showing everyone my dinky little index cards. I was floored when everyone ooohhhed and aaahhhed at my work. Whether they really liked it or they were just super nice doesn’t really matter to me… the kind of support that makes me all warm and fuzzy inside, that’s what I’ll remember.

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I “love” this one =) I experimented with layers and this happened.

There were so many other great memories made at the Create and Incubate retreat, it was such a great experience that I’m already signed up for next year… actually everyone who went this year is coming back! I can’t wait!!!

I’ve always known that breaks are so important, but knowing something never has the same effect as doing it. I’m more refreshed now than I’ve been in a long time, and I’ve decided that this retreat should be a gift I always give to myself… now if only I could skip the flight… anyone down for road trip next summer?

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Randi inspired this one when she used an expression about how “the universe is winking at you” – I used Melissa’s typewriter for the words.

P.S. It seems so easy to analyze the things I’m doing and the reasons I’m doing them now, but the truth is, I probably wouldn’t even recognize half of the stupid things I do, or any of the things I should be doing, if it weren’t for Melissa’s guidance.

The creative struggle is real in a culture that trains all the fun out of you.

I know that many of you reading this are creatives too, and if you think you could use even a tad more fun and creativity in your life, you’ll definitely benefit from Melissa’s advice.

Check out Melissa’s blog and podcast and look out for her new book coming out soon!

 

Reflections of an Artist: Fine Art Photography with a Splash of Prose (65) – Dreaming in the Rain

Dreamy Downpour

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The rain is so loud it’s like the cable went out with the volume cranked to the max. Nick’s snoozing next to me; the rain is his lullaby. I sigh, wondering if he’ll be sleeping for the next six months.

Gracie is laying on my legs, whining for breakfast, and I contemplate wearing a bathing suit for our walk; I’m sure an umbrella will be about as useful as the t in tsunami.

We’re finally in the land of eternal spring, after five years of planning and saving. We’re in Guatemala, and the first downpour of the rainy season has arrived.

Suddenly an idea strikes me and I kiss Nick awake. “Hi baby,” he whispers, one eye slit open, “what’s up?”

“Let’s dance in the rain!”

“Really?” The slit eye opens a bit more and I’m waiting for him to roll it… Nick is anything but a dancer.

But this is my daydream, so he lets me drag him out of bed as Gracie zoomies around us. I fling the door open and the three of us fly outside to get soaked.

How surreal will it be when we’re actually there? I’d say about as surreal as multi-colored rain.

 

What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!

 

What’s My Name Beeeotch!? My Identity Crisis

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I’m stifled, then stuttering, and then, finally, I answer the most seemingly simple question any person in the world is ever asked.

“What’s your name?

“Um, well,” I glance around the room and stop to think about the people I already know here. What do they call me?

It is, in fact, somewhat like rocket science, at least to me. People call me different things, and when they hear me introduce myself with an unfamiliar name it perplexes them, and then I have to explain myself. It’s annoying.

Most recently I’ve gotten so ridiculous that I introduce myself with 3 different names.

“Rebekah, Becky, Bekah… whatever you can remember, “ I usually reply as I shake the person’s hand. Awkward. And now, because of my own confusion, I am known as “Bek” to most people. I guess because it’s the one syllable all my names share.

Anyone who really knew me as a child wouldn’t dare call me Rebekah. Becky was my familiar name and Rebekah was the formal name reserved for the people who were “superior” to me; teachers, my first few employers, doctors, cops, and lawyers. These are the people whose first introduction with me was with the document on their desk instead of the person in the chair. I didn’t bother to correct these people, they didn’t matter to me.

“Oh I don’t really like that nickname, your full name is prettier”

After high school I started to meet people who expressed a strong opinion as to what I should be called. My boyfriend at the time refused to call me Becky, he felt it was too childish and since I didn’t want to be called Rebekah, he decided the only acceptable option was to call me Bek. Even customers at the restaurant where I tended bar would call me whatever they pleased despite the name I offered to them.

“Becky?” they would say, “that’s short for Rebekah right?” If I told the truth my nickname was lost on them, so after awhile I lied.

“No,” I would say, “Becky is the name on my birth certificate.”

I once had a group of friends that called me Bekah. I don’t know remember how it started… maybe one day someone asked me if they could call me that and I agreed. It was different. Up until that point only my Dad used that name for me.

Then one day one of those friends walked into the bar I worked at and overheard me introducing myself to a new customer. “Becky?” he said with his brow furrowed, “since when is that your name?”

See what I mean about all the explaining?!

I only started using the name Rebekah when I started my photography business. All those super opinionated people had convinced me that Rebekah was a big girl name, a professional name, and I thought it would probably be a good idea to use my ‘real’ name anyway – what if the bank refused to deposit a check written out to Becky Nemethy?!

My best friend laughs at me when she hears someone call me by my full name. “Re-BEK-Kah,” she says mockingly with a smug grin. And when I’ve been a bit too cynical for her tastes I’ll get a “Re-Bek-Kah NEM-ethy” in her reprimanding mom-o-tone.

So you see, my whole life I’ve been confused. I’m not really sure who I am or what my name is. Ya know, just in case you were one of those people who met me in person, and, while shaking my hand, you began to wonder if I might be suffering from mental challenges. Um, well, I might be, but I guess that’s another story.

Just call me anything that starts with a B and I’ll probably answer 😉

What about you? What’s the story behind your name? Do you have any nicknames that you love or ones that you hate? Tell me all about it below!

 

Death to the Swarmers: A Brief History

Inchworm Inching Over the Hill

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“I can’t mow the lawn,” screamed 16-year-old me, “do you know how many bugs I will kill?!”

I was serious, I mean, it wasn’t just an attempt to avoid a new chore, I really never killed bugs. That is… until this week.

So what happens when I see a bug? Well I guess that depends on the situation. I’ve been known to jump into flash seizures, eeking out loud as I shake and spin myself into a nearby wall. Usually though, those frantic episodes are caused by a piece of my own hair grazing my skin and followed by a laughing fit at my irrational fear.

When I really discover a bug in my house I tend to just ignore it and let it do its thing. If it’s a spider bigger than my thumbnail though, it’s time to call in boyfriend backup for trap and release tactics.

Then there are my outdoor bug finds. An interesting bug, even a ::gulp:: spider, always gets my attention and if my camera is nearby you can expect to see me shimmying through the grass on my stomach for at least the next few hours.

Maybe I just watched Honey I Shrunk the Kids a few too many times, or maybe I had a valid moral obligation to let the little critters live, nevertheless, my save-the-yard-buggies protest was a failure and I had to mow the lawn that day. So yeah, I must have killed a few bugs, but I didn’t do it by choice and I didn’t actually see it happen, so it doesn’t count… right?

Earlier this week these little black bugs decided to take over my kitchen and shed their wings all over the floor. The boyfriend and I took turns sweeping the little bastards up and throwing them outside. It wasn’t long before things started to get out of hand and we turned to a harsher method of removal.

Now, as I stare at the tiny, black carcasses, I imagine what it was like for them. What would it be like to wade across a stream unaware of any danger. Halfway through I might pass a pale, bloated hand bobbing in the current. A foot here, an elbow there, a knee, and then there are bodies everywhere. Suddenly it’s harder to breathe and my insides are burning as the poison spreads.

I feel guilty – but it’s a guilty… pleasure. I really hate to admit it but it’s sickly satisfying to suck up their lifeless bodies into my vacuum, lay down another river of Raid, and wait.

Suddenly the girl who once claimed that mowing the lawn is immoral has become some sort of Hitler, capable of exterminating anyone that bothers her. As a sufferer of the human condition, I fully confess to being insane and hypocritical. Tell me you’re not.

 

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