One
of the most challenging aspects of creating art, whether it be visual
(paintings, drawings, sculptures), auditory (speeches, songs, symphonies), or
written (stories, poems, essays) is the actual process. The more you invest in something,
the more it begins to define itself. Although I believe creativity can be
taught – otherwise I would not be teaching a Creative Writing class – I have
found that the art of creativity must be caught, and not everyone grasps it.
The
art of creativity involves knowing exactly why you used a certain brush stroke,
or key change, or literary image and being pleased when your instructor or
critic notices that thing you worked so hard to achieve. Sometimes in the
process of learning, we stumble on greatness and have to have it pointed out to
us. “That was a beautiful merging of two complementary colors to emphasize the
dark tones in this painting.” “I love how you had the sopranos go for the high
note at this point in the piece to really make us feel the rising intensity.”
“How insightful of you to break the rhyme scheme at this point in the poem when
you are illustrating the confusion of the moment.”
If
what that instructor or critic is pointing out was in fact intentional on our
part, we feel even better that our artistic efforts were seen as successful. If
not, we either learn from the experience or count ourselves lucky for having
hit on something we were not even aware of.
Art
though doesn’t tell us what we are supposed to get out of it, but it certainly
expects that its creator knows. The same can be said of God’s creation. He
carefully constructs his masterpieces with a purpose for each talent, quirk,
and gift he puts into His creation. As human artists, working on our creations,
we owe our art the same kind of attention to detail, the same kind of
creativity.
When
we do not know why we do something, the product – the art – suffers. It lacks
the identity it needs to survive as an artistic creation. An art student once
told me that the hardest reality he ever faced was his first semester in art
school. Each piece he created was scrutinized and questioned by the instructor.
As an artist, he was forced to justify ever choice he made in the work as well
as the disapproval of a highly critical professor. He watched as many in the
class were worn down by the constant criticism, and he found that that same
criticism made him a surer artist, ready to answer his professor with a reason
for every decision he made because he learned no longer to doubt his own creativity.
Theologian Charles Spurgeon put it this way: “The same sun which melts wax
hardens clay. And the same Gospel which melts some persons to repentance
hardens others in their sins.”
We
can all create art, but some of us by believing in the art become artists. We
can all appreciate music, but some of us by dedicating ourselves to it become
musicians. We can all put words on a page to communicate a message, but some of
us by striving for what is right become writers. And, as spiritual beings, we
can all believe in God, but some of us, by answering all of our doubts become
believers.
In art, as in faith, it is harder to believe
than not to.
