Calling Myself a Creator
Image from @adrienconverse via Unsplash
It’s ridiculous really: this idea that I can call myself a creator. It’s ridiculous, wonderful, and completely necessary. Who am I to be an artist? In my case, a poet and a newbie photographer. That’s a great question.
Welcome to this diary journey of creating my master’s arts project at Regent College: with all the creative challenges and victories along the way. I’ve completed two years of a master’s of theological studies in Christianity and the arts, mostly online. This project is a capstone of sorts, an integration of my learning and a creative expression of that. I’ll share more about the project in these weekly diary entries as I go.
This week four big things occurred to propel my project proposal from an idea into something actually happening.
My proposal was officially approved by the overseeing committee.
I secured and met with my academic advisor.
I started writing (mediocre) poetry again.
I began a photography course.
It all happened rather swiftly. Things feel very real.
When I received word that the proposal was accepted by the overseeing committee without any recommendations for revisions, I promptly began dreaming about it in the middle of the night. The gist of all the dreams was, “Oh my goodness, what have I gotten myself into?” and “Gosh, I hope I remember how to write poetry.”
A day or two later, I emailed a professor I didn’t know if she would be my academic advisor. That means she would potentially advise me on the academic paper component of my project. Surprisingly, she accepted the task before meeting with me.
We met online soon after. She was well-organized and asked great questions. I overshared a bit and found myself saying things like, “I’m one of those writers who has struggled to be a writer.” “I have written lots of poetry, but pursuing publication? Well, a little.” I had nothing to prove to her, but something in me wanted to. The “who am I?” question lurked, like an unwanted cold, under the surface of my psyche.
I went to a somewhat new library and looked for some books of poetry, of which, shockingly and sadly, I could find none! So I pulled up some Dana Goia poems on my phone for inspiration as I sat at a cafe table outside. I decided to write about the garden, people, and playground near me and see where it took my pen. It wasn’t great, but it was something.
The next day I started an online photography course. It seemed less technical than some and focused on black and white. There was also a 30-day money-back guarantee in case I hated it. With the photography portion of this project, I have felt like I need a safe out. I am an amateur at best, but I do love it. I was sure to tell my advisor about my emergency escape plan from photography too. (I mean, who am I to say I’m a photographer?) My goal is to get through the course by the end of September while I begin finding subjects to photograph for the project.
Like many artists, I’ve been asking myself, who am I to do anything meaningful or lasting my whole life. Besides self-doubt, this is a form of self-sabotage. I don’t beat myself up for asking the question this week. It’s something I’ve come to expect from the anxious part of me.
I wish I had a witty quote to insert here, but all I know is that action is what rescues me from the curly squeaky metal slide of doubt. Movement of any kind, however small, directs my mind to follow. So I emailed the professor. I wrote mediocre poetry. I watched Lesson 1. Nothing amazing. Yet it reminded me that actually, I am a poet. I’m a learning photographer.
Julie Cameron suggests an array of creative affirmations in The Artist’s Way. Two of my favorites that I’ve combined read: “There is a divine plan of goodness for me and my work” (p.37). This summer I’ve been on a journey to recover my sense of abundance and goodness. Moving myself toward the belief and reality that I am a creator loved and blessed by God, the ultimate Creator, is the work I am called to during these days of genesis.
