The magic of lag time in the creative process
How deviating from your original plan may take you by surprise
As we approach winter I’m thinking about how to settle even more deeply into what I’ve begun creating. As stated in my last newsletter, I saw a detailed vision of my most recent project and am currently working to produce this fully formed concept.
One thing that I’ve observed recently — that is easy to forget when beginning — is how the process always requires you to deviate from your original idea.
I have to keep reminding myself that it’s okay to do that. It’s natural, good even, that my concept evolves as I’m putting it out into the world.
On top of that, I’m feeling a familiar wintery push and pull.
I long to escape the frenzy and busyness of the outside world and shut myself in my studio until I finish this project. But I also ache to connect with others through my creations because I don’t solely make things to record my existence.
What ends up happening is a delicate dance of retreating and sharing.
The pace of conversing through art is slower and less consistent. (Especially compared with current expectations, when non-stop social sharing feels like a requirement to prove you exist from moment to moment). Sometimes I’m furiously rushing to get an idea to completion, while other times I’m lingering to form a complete thought.
As a result, I’m learning a million different ways of telling others, “it takes the time it takes” without it sounding like a brushoff.
Behind the scenes, I’m still nurturing my vision and voice. I have to keep the creative fire going with artist dates, open thinking time, and space to connect with my spirit.
This movement between the inner and outer space of my practice can be awkward.
I dream of existing entirely in flawless fluffy clouds of creative time. And other times, I crave completion and wonder how it can take so long to complete my ideas. After all, in my mind’s eye, I can imagine myself finishing it all within a few seconds. So I end up having to create boundaries with myself too.
A part of the process that often trips me up is lag time.
It’s easy to disregard because it requires surrendering. It exists in the space between your brain processing an idea and your hand’s cooperation to build it. There are hidden modifications that happen during the lag, and an obscure difference can insert itself. It’s like pressing print on your computer and finding an altered page sitting in the printing tray.
Perhaps the lag time is where your voice inserts itself; your body is unconsciously expressing change as a result of all the years of moving and holding you.
I’m not sure, and part of me enjoys its secrecy.
Another part wants to sink into this space and locate where each change begins taking shape inside my bones.
November’s reflection
Questions I’m asking myself this month (and some answers):
What can I do to foster more serenity in my life?
Less television = more time for things that matter
Solo time to work on side projects
Draw my ideas daily so I’m not getting anxious I’ll forget them
Re-up my morning pages practice
How can I bring more honesty into my creative practice?
Continue talking to others about what I’m doing
Write more, I find it helps clarify what’s important to me
Resist the urge to over curate
Uphold permission to stray from the mold, even ones I’ve set up for myself
Some open tabs in my browser rn
Curious about learning how to make my own pigments
Looking to clear some excess anxious energy with EFT
Love the greenhouse set from the show Dickinson and have been daydreaming of re-creating with houseplants and lots of velvet.
Admiring Mary Weatherford’s Neon Paintings
An article about the effects of isolation on creativity that I haven’t had a chance to dive into yet
Have a deliciously restful week filled with R&R and hopefully some creative time where you can test out your own lag time transformations.