Permission to Play

I’m not very good at it. Play, I mean.

One of the goals in some artistic schools of thought (and one that I subscribe to wholeheartedly) is that it is best, or vital, to free ourselves from the expectations and, particularly, the judgements of adulthood and get back to the purity and unfettered-ness of children and their drawing, painting and making.

As we get older, fears of failure, not being like others or, artistically, looking like an amateur begin to creep in and our art can become contrived. It loses its immediacy, its honesty, its connection to us.

With no commitments, no exhibitions, no requirements other than to regain a dormant art practice, now is the perfect time to play—get out the gear and see what happens.

But it is surprisingly, and ridiculously, difficult for me! I can’t help but assess each mark, judge the artistic value of a certain direction, compare my deliberately-painted-on-scrap-paper creations to what has gone before.

In other parts of our life, we are encouraged to take on the mantle of adult-ness. In fact, those who resist can be irritating or even damaging. I can see that, creatively, open, childlike play is liberating, but I haven’t quite found a way to practise like that.

Yet. Maybe that should be my goal for the year. No more than that—and what a valuable achievement it would be.

Good luck with your own play,

Until later,

Kirsten