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A World of Imagination
Mar. 2nd, 2015 12:47 pmWhile I feel the effects of having really pushed myself hard this past weekend, I am nothing short of THRILLED at my progress. Projects! Projects! Projects! I organized. I packed. I cooked. I prepped. I gathered. I cleaned. I sewed. I worked metal. Etc., etc., etc. No, I don’t lead what most people would call a normal life – nor would I want to. Normal bores me. Normal doesn’t inspire me. Normal is just, well… meh.
For me, some of the most fun parts of my life involve running into some sort of a stumper and then coming up with a clever work-around or other way to do something. For some people, this is super easy to do. For others, it is just impossible. For many people, there is ultimately one and only one way to do something, and if the road is blocked, there is just no way to get to that destination. But not me. If plan A doesn’t work, there is bound to be another way. It might be different. It might not have the same impact. It might be harder. But, it might actually be better or more effective!
In a lot of ways, this type of thinking really describes my style. Rarely, if ever, when I start with an idea in my head does the result end up anything like what I planned on initially. Sure, I may have planned to make a particular recipe, but when I find I am out of a particular key ingredient, I am faced with a decision – go and get the missing ingredient? Or change the recipe? 90% of the time, I change things up. What was intended to be a beef stew will become stroganoff. When I sew, I often have an inspiration outfit in mind, but it eventually morphs into something else. But… how does one learn to adapt or become creative? Is it something that can be actually TAUGHT, or is it something innate to one’s personality?
In my case, if my creativity was not 100% taught, it was at least helped along a tremendous amount by my sister Georgette, (affectionately known as 3 of 5). Let’s go back once again to my childhood as a Ptown kid, shall we? (Insert screen waves here)…
As an overly bored and pretty lethargic kid in the 70’s, my mind was often on overload. Unlike kids who preferred to play physically, I was much more into being imaginative. I loved my fantasy and my escapisms. Like 3 of 5, I loved fantasy creatures – dragons, and unicorns, and gnomes and elves, etc.. They were my friends! But, I felt kind of stuck. There was only so much I could do to get my fix. I was (And still am) a horribly slow reader. And we didn’t exactly have a wealth of resources in terms of toys or cool stuff in town. So this is where the creativity came into play.
In the middle of town, there was a store (that is still there, miraculously!) known as Marines’
Specialties. How does one even describe it? It is sorta like an army-navy surplus store that also carries just… all kinds of bizarre things. Anything that had been made in bulk that is no longer wanted or needed by a particular vendor ends up there. So then, much like now, you just never know what you are going to find – army patches, marbles, natural sponges and shells, gas masks, toys, batons, boots, fishing nets – you name it, and they probably have something to that effect.
Anyway, as a kid, I had (and still have!) an assortment of little trolls. I loved them with a love that has no bounds. Each had a name. And each had a story. I made cloths for them all, and they each had a fascinating story! But ya know what they didn’t have? STUFF! They didn’t have a home or accessories. So this is where 3 of 5 came in. One day, she took me to Marine’s Specialties where we went shopping for items. What items, you may be asking? Well honestly, total junk! But junk that could be turned into treasure.
For instance, looking through random bins, we found a bunch of little super cheap wooden thread spools. But wait – were they actually thread spools? Or, with a quick coat of paint, were they miniature tables? Next to those, we found some wooden honey dippers. Or were they? If the ridges were filled in, wouldn’t they make ideal faux storage barrels? As we searched through all kinds of mostly-useless-junk, it felt like my mind was opening up. Looking at various items was like taking a Rorschach test – what did I really REALLY see when looking at some random found object? Was this little scrap of fabric a drink coaster? Or was it a miniature area rug?
Leaving Marines’ Specialties, we had a big bag of utter junk. It couldn’t possibly have cost much of anything since everything in the bag cost probably a nickel. But to me, it was treasure. Not only did I have visions of what each item would become, but I had project after project after project in front of me to keep me busy over those long and otherwise boring summer days when I preferred to stay indoors rather than play outside.
As an adult (and I use that term loosely since most days I just simply don’t want to adult!), I think in many ways I am still that overly excited and overly creative kid looking at objects and figuring out how they could be modified or changed or turned into something else really cool. I don’t know if that is something that I was pre-destined to do, but my sister helped me out a lot by challenging me to think beyond just the expectation that most people had for an object.
How about the rest of you? Are you more of a creator, or a replicator?
For me, some of the most fun parts of my life involve running into some sort of a stumper and then coming up with a clever work-around or other way to do something. For some people, this is super easy to do. For others, it is just impossible. For many people, there is ultimately one and only one way to do something, and if the road is blocked, there is just no way to get to that destination. But not me. If plan A doesn’t work, there is bound to be another way. It might be different. It might not have the same impact. It might be harder. But, it might actually be better or more effective!
In a lot of ways, this type of thinking really describes my style. Rarely, if ever, when I start with an idea in my head does the result end up anything like what I planned on initially. Sure, I may have planned to make a particular recipe, but when I find I am out of a particular key ingredient, I am faced with a decision – go and get the missing ingredient? Or change the recipe? 90% of the time, I change things up. What was intended to be a beef stew will become stroganoff. When I sew, I often have an inspiration outfit in mind, but it eventually morphs into something else. But… how does one learn to adapt or become creative? Is it something that can be actually TAUGHT, or is it something innate to one’s personality?
In my case, if my creativity was not 100% taught, it was at least helped along a tremendous amount by my sister Georgette, (affectionately known as 3 of 5). Let’s go back once again to my childhood as a Ptown kid, shall we? (Insert screen waves here)…
As an overly bored and pretty lethargic kid in the 70’s, my mind was often on overload. Unlike kids who preferred to play physically, I was much more into being imaginative. I loved my fantasy and my escapisms. Like 3 of 5, I loved fantasy creatures – dragons, and unicorns, and gnomes and elves, etc.. They were my friends! But, I felt kind of stuck. There was only so much I could do to get my fix. I was (And still am) a horribly slow reader. And we didn’t exactly have a wealth of resources in terms of toys or cool stuff in town. So this is where the creativity came into play.
In the middle of town, there was a store (that is still there, miraculously!) known as Marines’
Specialties. How does one even describe it? It is sorta like an army-navy surplus store that also carries just… all kinds of bizarre things. Anything that had been made in bulk that is no longer wanted or needed by a particular vendor ends up there. So then, much like now, you just never know what you are going to find – army patches, marbles, natural sponges and shells, gas masks, toys, batons, boots, fishing nets – you name it, and they probably have something to that effect.
Anyway, as a kid, I had (and still have!) an assortment of little trolls. I loved them with a love that has no bounds. Each had a name. And each had a story. I made cloths for them all, and they each had a fascinating story! But ya know what they didn’t have? STUFF! They didn’t have a home or accessories. So this is where 3 of 5 came in. One day, she took me to Marine’s Specialties where we went shopping for items. What items, you may be asking? Well honestly, total junk! But junk that could be turned into treasure.
For instance, looking through random bins, we found a bunch of little super cheap wooden thread spools. But wait – were they actually thread spools? Or, with a quick coat of paint, were they miniature tables? Next to those, we found some wooden honey dippers. Or were they? If the ridges were filled in, wouldn’t they make ideal faux storage barrels? As we searched through all kinds of mostly-useless-junk, it felt like my mind was opening up. Looking at various items was like taking a Rorschach test – what did I really REALLY see when looking at some random found object? Was this little scrap of fabric a drink coaster? Or was it a miniature area rug?
Leaving Marines’ Specialties, we had a big bag of utter junk. It couldn’t possibly have cost much of anything since everything in the bag cost probably a nickel. But to me, it was treasure. Not only did I have visions of what each item would become, but I had project after project after project in front of me to keep me busy over those long and otherwise boring summer days when I preferred to stay indoors rather than play outside.
As an adult (and I use that term loosely since most days I just simply don’t want to adult!), I think in many ways I am still that overly excited and overly creative kid looking at objects and figuring out how they could be modified or changed or turned into something else really cool. I don’t know if that is something that I was pre-destined to do, but my sister helped me out a lot by challenging me to think beyond just the expectation that most people had for an object.
How about the rest of you? Are you more of a creator, or a replicator?
