This probably sounds familiar: every day I get up and every hour is already accounted for. Work, chores, even the fun and life-sustaining things - yoga, reading, gardening - are scheduled in. And it works; except when it doesn’t, and suddenly it feels like the walls are closing in and I can’t breathe.
The only open space is when the schedule reads ‘Studio’. I don’t actually have a studio (yet); just the shed at the allotment and a table in my bedroom. But this new strategy is working. Realising that the schedule was necessary but all-consuming, I decided to play it at its own game and schedule in time for my art. Nominally this is ‘doing’ time, just like all the other slots; I am ‘doing’ art. But my secret is that those two or three hours of ‘studio’ time involve - whisper it - just seeing where things lead. Playing. Trying things out. Allowing myself to wander from one thought to the next, to dabble in several projects or dive deeply into one. No plan, no list. No objective except to learn to enjoy the luxury of time and being fully present with myself.
How simple that sounds. How long it has taken me to get here (approx 56 years).
It has come at a cost. For 15 years I have had two jobs and, like many of us, I have needed them to make ends meet. But more recently, stretching the fabric of myself so tightly so that the ends meet has left me transparent. Threadbare. Fading to invisibility.
So I have given up a third of my working hours and bought myself more time with my daughter and a little slice of time by myself twice a week to make my art. I may not have a studio (yet!) but suddenly I have two times in the week when I can fully relax into the spaces I do have. Rather than rushing to the shed with a pre-determined check list - finish this project, start this piece - I can just turn up, take time to look around, drink coffee and … see where things lead.
And, crucially, without goals there can be no sense of failure. Every session is a gift as I get used to this formlessness. This spaciousness. I’m learning to sit with whatever comes up and, in the absence of expectations, creativity thrives. The old me would have worried about being productive in the absence of a plan; but in fact the work is flourishing and - most importantly - feels deeply connected to me.
Space. Time. Quiet. An intention to be present and see what arises. What does this remind me of? Ah yes, the other practices that restore me to myself - yoga, meditation, walking, bird watching. How has it taken me until now - taken this deep dive into art making - to flag this up? A pointless question, though the answer comes quickly: like everyone else, I haven’t always taken time to observe and have been caught up in the old narrative of productivity being based on lists, busyness and ‘making the most’ of time.
I’m conscious that I still live a huge proportion of my life outside of that mindset. Four days a week teaching in college means that every moment of those days is scheduled and the content of all of those lessons is already determined for the whole year. A frightening thought. And the demands of the job - mental, emotional, physical - cast a long shadow over my free time.
The challenge, then, seems to be to find a way to lead a life wholly lived in that spacious, creative mindset, or at least to allow it to creep still further into those over-scheduled moments. To find a way to wake up with a sense of space and time and curiosity about where things will lead.
Sound familiar? Have any suggestions? Please do leave a comment.
Another wonderful post Julie. It’s so hard to balance everything especially when we have all the financial aspects to consider. I try to rotate walking, yoga, reading, journaling etc, I just can’t fit all the things into each day, or even each week often. At least this way allows a couple of studio sessions a week, for this season of my life anyway. It’s lovely that you’re prioritising time with your daughter. Keep on keeping on!
Thank you for sharing these reflections. I was also a teacher and, like you became so used to the tightly scheduled, planned days, weeks, years. It is a hard habit to get out of even in retirement from it!
Your decision to put in place time/space every week - with no specific plan sounds perfect and what I should have been doing all this time. Remembering that I don't have to justify that time but can just 'be'. I think it's about giving myself permission & not feeling like I have to walk out of the studio (yes, I am very lucky in having one) saying I made this or that today. I used to do it - it's called play - and I think I can again. Thank you! And best wishes for your creative space 😊