Given enough time to get
to know each other, the four of us would probably have
had a useful and even
inspirational conversation. But if you
read face and body language in the photomontage below,
you can get a pretty good idea of how the session actually
developed. Ludmila Ulitskaya is the only one who looks
at ease, perhaps because she spoke no English. Her Russian
translator mumbled so softly that I could barely hear
a word so I don't know what Ludmila thought but she had
a sympathetic face. David Galenson held forth longer
than anyone else in a manner that seemed defensive but
perhaps that's because I didn't agree with most of his
approach to the subject and perhaps that's because I'm
deeply involved in, and perhaps also defensive, about
the process of creation, while he is deeply involved
in the theory he
has painstakingly constructed about it. Pamela
Ryckman had done her homework assiduously and tried her
best to orchestrate the session but it was no
easy task. It was more
like a set of monologues than a discussion but if
I look disgruntled perhaps that's because
I was disappointed by the many empty chairs in the
room - only about fifteen people in the audience.
But perhaps that's because many talks on different
topics were scheduled at the same time on
each day of the Forum and therefore people tended
to graze buffet-style, wandering in and out of rooms
to sample what was on offer. Understandable perhaps,
but not exactly conducive to depth and concentration.
That's a lot of perhapses ...Quisas quisas quisas: remember
that old Latin American song?
I had written notes
to prepare for the session but, as often happens
on such occasions, I ended up improvising. It
all seems far away already but since we're still on the
subject, herewith
my notes:
I've been invited here because
I'm creative and I'm ageing. But I'm not going to
say how old I am because a number, when associated
with age, instantly brings up stereotypes which I
want to avoid. If you've been a committed artist
all your life you never reach retiring age - you
just keep on working, trying to do better - or as
Beckett said: fail again, fail better.
For me, creativity
is a metaphorical room I have to enter in order
to switch on the state of creativity: the state
in which I can make objects that can be
called artworks. I don't mean that I must perform
some arcane ritual before picking up a brush
or other tool, but there is a definite difference
between this state and the ordinary state
in which I do the shopping, cleaning, socialising,
internet surfing etc. The creativity involved in
writing is different: I can think
of sentences to write while doing the dishes or sitting
in a noisy café. But to fully engage in a process
which will eventually end up as physical artworks,
in whatever medium, demands a deliberate decision
to enter and stay as long as possible in a space
where anything other than
the work at hand is excluded. I can't explain what
neurons in my brain need to be activated
but I do know that it is like tuning to a specific
radio station and that I need complete silence in
order to connect.
One thing that ageing has done
is to make me more aware that I have to choose to enter
that state. It doesn't happen automatically just
because I call myself an artist. I can decide to
step into that room and make stuff (which may or
may not be art) and keep on making more
of it until my dying day, if health and energy permit.
Or I can sit back and let age creep up while
I'm surfing the internet, playing with my digital
gadgets, watching TV, shopping and so on until suddenly
I realise: hey, I'm old! I've got one foot in the
grave and the other one is wobbling!
But in my creative
space I've got loads of time ahead because
the child in me is still able to make discoveries
and perhaps produce the best work I've ever done.
It is still possible, as many artists have proved,
that you can be an innovator, a rule-breaker, even
when you're chronologically old. Creativity is about
breaking or bending the rules and ageing doesn't
necessarily kill one's inner rebel. Some will disagree,
asserting that the brain ages and that's that. Well,
even experts admit that, so
far, little is known about exactly what goes on in
the convoluted grey matter inside our skulls. So
it may be that the brains of artists...ageing and
aged....can teach the experts a thing or
two about creativity.
Something else that
ageing does is to prod me to shed, rather than to
accumulate things and concepts, getting rid of anything
that interferes with finding out what my own inner
voice is trying to say.
And now a few more photos
from the Deauville do. It was an eye-opening experience
which I'm grateful to have been a part of and I will
not forget the inspiring people I met or whose talks
I heard - too many to mention and do justice to.
Mercy Oduyoye, theologian,
Director of Women in Religion and Culture, Ghana
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