The Myth of the Perfect Creative Space
Redefining creativity beyond aesthetics & mood lighting (& announcing a single spot for a paid subscriber to join us on a whimsical, creative playdate on 8/9)
What makes a space creative? This essay challenges the belief that inspiration only strikes in beautiful or well-designed environments. Through personal stories, practical examples, and a look at artists who create in difficult conditions, I make the argument that all spaces can be creative.
What is a Creative Space, Anyways?
If I asked you to describe “a creative space”, what would you say?
Would you - without hesitation - start to detail the serene sunroom you decked out in hanging planters and 10 different types of pothos plants during lockdown? Or, would you rave about the retro coffeehouse down the street that has a large rock and roll memorabilia collection and an equally impressive open-mic lineup on Thursday nights?
Perhaps…you would visualize:
stretching out on a yoga mat below the shade of redwood trees;
rolling out a slab of clay on a butcher block;
drawing the passing scenery from a moving train on your iPad;
assembling a fruit salad with your friends at the beach;
craning your neck - reading the inside cover of a novel in a book shop nook;
wandering about a sculpture exhibit or crowded city streets;
singing to the marigolds in your garden;
gazing at a waterfall and listening to its ebb and flow;
doodling on a whiteboard in an industrial-warehouse-turned-sun-filled office;
or, walking into a place of worship.
Maybe, you know the exact environment that enlivens your most limitless self: after all, you’ve designed your life around the oxygen that is your creativity. You go people-watching by the food carts in Central Park to get inspired for your new restaurant opening, or sew winter scarfs when working through the plot of a mystery novel. The creative process has taken decades to click, but it finally has.
Then again, maybe that’s not you…
Actually, you’re not so sure how and where creativity even comes about. What is this artistic fuel, this high - unscientific and fleeting urge - that “creative people” mumble so much about?
Humor me for a second, though. Close your eyes.
If you had to imagine some environment that could unlock those wild ideas buried deep within your soul, do you envision this place as being curated by humans, or a more organic force? Would there be Wi-Fi?
…Maybe it would be a hybrid of the two? Half man-made, half earthly?
A Reflection on the Un-Beautiful
Just today, my writer’s block un-blocked itself as I made my way (hungrily) across a Costco parking lot, a steaming rotisserie chicken in hand. Which reminded me…
Lately, I feel creative in a wider variation of spaces than ever before.
Sure - sometimes, these settings are textbook examples from the laws of space design and psychology: high ceilings, physical expanse, nature, light, cool tones, sensory interest, variation, the abstract, tidiness, mindfulness, movement...
Other times, though, they defy those rules: constrained, monotone, hyper-realistic, chaotic, stuffy, removed, plain, straight, dull…
More and more, I am aware that the absence of bright colors tickles my creative consciousness just as much as a vibrant rainbow. And, less and less, I feel the non-negotiable of setting up shop in aesthetic spaces as a requirement to create.
In fact, I write brilliantly in dark, germy airplane cabins (despite the growing feeling of a blood clot developing in my buttocks - less than a centimeter from my neighbor’s - and the need to douse my eyes in “extra moisturizing” eye drops every 15 minutes). I also love to milk a 45-minute bumper-to-bumper traffic commute in my filthy Subaru: I’ve composed entire poems looking out onto a sea of brake lights. It’s also not uncommon for me to type away for a whole afternoon in the drab basement of a community center with no one besides dinosaur-looking desktop monitors as company.
These are creative spaces too, because…
creative spaces are the special state of mind that you bring to them - not just the mood lighting peeking beneath a victorian lamp or the refined timber archways of a grand library. Though, those details certainly don’t hurt.
A Tool for Creative Resilience
Recently, a friend and I completed the Artist’s Way 12-week journey and she suggested we each assemble an “Artist Diaper Bag” filled with essentials to quell our inner artists’ future temper tantrums and blowouts. The collection would contain everything our artist selves would need to come out of a spiraling, un-creative darkness (just like what upset infants might need to rekindle their giggly spirits).
So, I went about assembling:
a variety of novels and magazines
snacks (and lots of chocolate)
crafts and childhood games
sensory aids and essential oils
a blanket
a throwback-only playlist
a thermos and tea bags
a notebook and colored pencils
travel-friendly sewing projects
hand-written letters from loved ones and postcards to send out
and, a camera
One by one, I treasure-hunted for these items around the house, dropping them into a big woven basket I rescued from its extended time-out in the attic.
Through assembling this emergency kit of sorts, it dawned on me that creativity is sparked not only from novel experiences, but also from what is familiar and comforting too; not only from wild adventures but also that sense of protection; not just from the constant “doing”, but rest as well: a harmony of inputs and outputs.
The Myth of the Ideal Studio
Over the past week, I have traversed many “creative spaces”:
a live theater stage (performing a 6-show production of the classic American musical Oklahoma! by Rodgers & Hammerstein)
a park in the heart of Berkeley on a lively Saturday afternoon (for Tomatokind’s Possibilities Club Summer Picnic)
a hole-in-the-wall bookstore doubling as a whiskey library (for attendance at a new book club led by That Art Party’s Naomi Fierro Peña)
a warm and minimalist startup space at San Francisco’s Pier 17 (for a campus tour of the Swiss Arts Council’s Swissnex SF office)
and, the garden art studio of local painter Sophia Sattar (for a moving interview feature of the artist in her indoor-outdoor habitat). **Paid subscribers: I’ll be emailing you soon about a special opportunity to join me at Sophia’s studio on August 9 for a creative playdate!**
Indeed - these spaces felt inspiring. Their physical characteristics were certainly defining and significant.
But, more important was the energy that coursed through them, the infinite possibilities of intersecting ideas multiplying with every passing moment, and the fission of creative minds and bodies moving together (like dancers under the effortless direction of a DJ at the vibey-est nightclub).
If you haven’t yet caught on, I am making the argument that all spaces can be creative.
In fact, being in traditionally “creative” spaces (a.k.a. beautiful, bold, aesthetic, large, well-designed, cathartic) is a privilege afforded by too few people in this world. Most must create in places that lack cleanliness and peace - for survival.
Frida Kahlo created most of her works from a hospital bed, immobilized by pain.
Billie Holiday often performed in grim venues with deplorable conditions.
Louis Bourgeois’s deeply autobiographical sculptures were crafted while experiencing displacement from her home and limited comforts.
This is not to say that we should not have or want beauty in our creative environments. It is merely to say that one’s creative experiences are more often determined by one’s state of mind (and body) than the sights and sounds around.
I think the four-walls (or lack thereof) in our surroundings get much more credit than they deserve. After all, when is the last time you were in a picturesque place but were not present enough to experience it?
So, I leave you with this: the next time you find yourself escaping the confines of your gloomy apartment in search for a dreamy, sun-lit cafe patio adjacent to a bustling town square of street musicians and dancers, maybe pause for a moment and think about what you may need (mentally, emotionally, or physically) to sync with the vibrations of the beautiful space you are about to enter.
Before you even set foot outside, maybe bask in your own creative state of mind and step into the power of it.
Perhaps, you’d see that your apartment is not so gloomy - not because your window is suddenly floor-to-ceiling and south-facing, but because you’ve accessed a more valuable and sustainable source of energy.
And then, continue! Continue onwards to that Parisian bakery or design studio…but don’t forget to bring your personal - portable & forever - creative space with you.
Dear readers, if you have also been discovering - like me - your personal recipe for creativity, I’d love to hear what you’ve been reflecting on and learning. Feel free to reply to me here!
And, if you are looking for some creative inspiration, check out our Creative Journey Library - a thoughtfully curated collection of books that inspire creativity, deepen reflection, and have helped us find our way.
Thank you for reading and happy community gathering - see you on the next page!
P.S. Check back soon - we’ll be launching our bookshop.org store and sharing our full archive of creative recs there :)
For me, creativity is definitely an empty desk. I think maybe that's why I feel creative on airplanes, or in airport lounges, or cafes.... My entire room right now is a disaster zone, yet I have one table just for drawing and I'm totally in the zone!