Creativity Blocked? Paint a Room

A ladder, cans of paint, and a white room

This week, the painters came. It was time. When we moved into our home we inherited the previous owner’s color scheme–beige with a dark red accent wall and a foyer that was sponge-painted with sparkly gold paint. It’s only paint, we rationalized. We can change it. Eleven years went by, other things took priority, and I did my best to decorate around it. This week, the painters came!

Before they arrived, we had to decide on colors.

“What do you think?” Ed asked.

“White, ” I said.

“White?”

“White.”

Many Shades of White

Interestingly enough, it’s a bold choice. Most folks opt for some color. (Is white a color? Is it the absence of color?) Anyway, I was taking my inspiration from “Desert Modern” décor. Look it up. It’s a thing, and since we live in the desert it captured my imagination.

“Walls the color of white-washed adobe are the perfect backdrop for warm desert colors,” the Pinterest post promised.

Of course, what they don’t tell you is there are hundreds, maybe thousands of shades of white at the local paint store, and not one is named White-Washed Adobe. After squinting at paint swatches taped around our living room for several days, I finally narrowed it down to two.

“Deb, just pick one,” Ed pleaded.

“Ok, here, ” I said as I squinted one last time and grabbed a sample off the wall hoping it was white-washy enough.

The Big Reveal

During the painting process, our home was like a construction zone. A team of professionals swooped in, taped, primed, and painted. I stayed my office/studio venturing out to take a peek now and then. From what I could tell, I was going to like the new look. After a two-day flurry, the painters packed up and left. I stood in the middle of the living room.

“It’s a lot of white.” I said.

“That’s what you wanted, ” Ed said. “Think of it as blank slate. Now we can start creating the look you want.”

Enter Creativity

“I Walk into a White Room…”

That’s the title of the first chapter of Twyla Tharp’s book The Creative Habit. This is how she starts each of her choreography-design sessions. She walks into the empty white studio and begins the creative process of bringing music to life.

I’m not a dancer, I’m a writer, but the creative process is the same. My brain begins to re-arrange bits and pieces of my room. Could the sofa move here? This picture looks better there. We need a pop of color over here. A plant perhaps?

It’s like moving dancers around on a stage or words on a page. Playing with color, texture, and shape in this way stimulates a burst of creativity that’s bound to spill over into my work as a writer.

Work in Progress

a rusty -brown saguaro lawn ornament in a green pot makes an art installment

It’s a work in progress. Our original sofa and chair was repurposed with a hand-knitted throw and some new accent pillows. A rusty-brown saguaro lawn ornamant in a green pot makes for an interesting art installation. Some thrifted pieces have added interest.

Fixing things up, moving bits around, adding in some new elements. Yeah, I’m working on my manuscript.

Threads of thought icon

Threads of Thought

What experiences with paint colors or painting a room have you had?

What do you do when you are blocked creatively?

Don’t you wonder who comes up with the names for paint colors? What’s the funniest one you’ve come across? (And if you find White-Washed Adobe let me know)

A bright blue book with a border of crayons across the bottom and the title OUt of the Crayon Box: Thoughts on Teaching, Retirement, and Life

Grab a copy of my book Out of the Crayon Box: Thoughts on Teaching, Retirement, and Life http://amazon.com/author/debravandeventer

The Courage to Bloom

How to put negative self-talk in time out.

(This post has been updated from it’s original publishing date.)

This Maiposa Lily has the couragage to bloom in the crack of a rock.

Bloom

by Debra VanDeventer

A Mariposa Lily

 emerges from a crack in a granite rock

and bursts into bloom.

It ignored the voice  that said

lilies aren’t supposed to do that.

The piece of goldenrod linen had been in my fabric stash for months.  Today I got it out and spread it on the cutting table.  I decided it would make a nice pair of wide leg pants from the Emerson pattern I have on hand.  The fabric is perfect for spring and summer. But before I make the first cut, I hesitate. The voice in my head challenges me.  Fear says:

A pattern is on a piece of gold fabric.  Do I have the courage to bloom and cut out the pattern pieces?

The piece of goldenrod linen had been in my fabric stash for months.  Today I got it out and spread it on the cutting table.  I decided it would make a nice pair of wide leg pants from the Emerson pattern I have on hand.  The fabric is perfect for spring and summer. But before I make the first cut, I hesitate. The voice in my head challenges me.  Fear says:

Loose Threads

Pathways to Creativity

In my very first blog post, I showed this picture of my “studio” space I’d designed to support my creative life after retirement. http://seamslikeastory.com/creating-a-space-to-sew-and-write

I’ll admit, I was a young, naïve Blogger(two months ago) eager to impress my audience. One reader suggested it was “too neat to be true.”  I have a confession to make. It doesn’t always look like the photo. You see, my creative life has a split personality.

Different pathways to creativity

I contribute my dichotomy of styles to my parents, Jack and Alice.

Jack liked to have things tidy and organized. If he needed a pencil, sheet of paper, or pair of scissors he knew right where to find them in his organized desk. On the other hand, when Alice got an inspiration, it often took over our household in a flurry of activity leaving an unruly mess in its wake. Dad learned to take refuge in his office when this happened, only peeking out when order had been restored.  Sometimes I’m Jack. I love it when I can go to my sewing pegboard and find my scissors just where they should be, or look at my pattern filing system and take pride that I’d put things back where they belonged. But sometimes, a burst of Alice takes over and I find myself following loose threads.
 I recently had a “loose threads” morning.  It went something like this: