We have done a decent amount of coloring in my Creativity class. We are very on-trend in that sense, but that isn’t why we do it. This past week, we explored what our muse and critic looked like in our mind’s eye.
Now, I am no artist, but I am not ashamed to share these rough crayon and marker drawings because they are pretty accurate to what my mind sees for these entities. We were taken through an imagery exercise to find our muse. When asked to think of a safe place as a child, the first thing I saw was the willow my brothers and I called the “Hiding Tree” in my old backyard. It was a common fort, house and hideaway with enough room under it for all four of us. The kind of muse that came to me in my imagery journey was more light-based than a full human being, but I did picture a female in this light. It sort of reminded me of the fairy in Pinocchio or the Good Fairy in the Wizard of Oz who travels as a little bubble of light. I knew my muse had to have some sort of love and girl power emanating from her because that is what inspires me and makes me feel happiest most.
I was surprised when I had to draw a cartoonish version of my critic because the first thing that came to mind was a woman. I pictured this crotchety old woman who had antiquated views of what I could be based on my gender and stature. She pushes me to stay quiet and timid and stereotypically “ladylike” instead of saying what is on my mind. She questions my strength and abilities and wants me to just be a housewife without purpose.
We had to direct our fellow classmates in being a version of ourselves, our critic and our muse while we watched and took their place to figure out how we felt with our physical muses and critics in play. I had to move my critic farther away, but not as far as I expected I would because my muse’s voice was louder than I thought it would be. It was fascinating putting these non-tangible entities into action and putting myself more into control.
Something I had some control over was my transformative project, which I got to present to the rest of my class this week. I had written haikus everyday for about three weeks to try to transform how I look at language and my own creative process. I never thought writing a little three stanza poems would be so difficult, but it was. By the end I was starting to think them up throughout the day, and I hope to use it as a way to get back into journaling because my poems were like little reflections of my day. I put all the singular lines all over a poster board in correlating colors so that my classmates could see how scattered my creative process is, but how all the different parts could be put together into a whole. I loved being able to see what different things my classmates did and what they learned from it. Whether it was changing their hair everyday or starting conversations with strangers, I felt like I learned a little bit more about how I could step out of my own comfort zone through their ideas.