July Newsletter
What it was like to lose access to my creativity · New BMC Mail Drop
In this newsletter:
What it was like to lose access to my creativity
New BMC Mail Drop
Things I’ve been enjoying
Buiti/Buenas!
You think of an idea. Maybe it's the end result that comes to mind. Or maybe you don't know exactly what the end result looks like but you know for sure that there are a few things you want to try on the path to realizing it.
You make a plan. Maybe you lay out the whole plan with wiggle room for unexpected things along the way. Or maybe you have a loose roadmap with a couple points plotted and a lot of improvisation in between. Or maybe you're fully prepared to take one step at a time and let the next step in the path reveal itself as you move forward.
You have a horizon that you're pointed toward, some kind of structure as a path, and you take action. While creativity can be defined in so many ways, all valid at the same time, this one is essential to me. For many reasons. But one reason I love it is because it's vague enough to include people who don't think they are artists or activities that don't typically fall under the "creative" umbrella but are still acts of creativity.
I've mentioned in various places- including my bio- that I lost access to the creative part of my brain for 4 years. And I've gotten some questions about what that was actually like.
Was it like creative block? Did you have creative ideas and just couldn't follow through on them? What caused it? Are you afraid of losing it again?
Creative block is relatable to a lot of people. It was something I experienced long before this and something I still experience today. It can manifest as just not having an idea or being paralyzed by too many ideas. Staring at a blank page, not knowing where to start. It can be stopping at a frustrating part of the process and avoiding moving forward. It can be just not having the creative energy and the inspiration to go on the adventurous path of a project. It could be that the path looks intimidating, and you haven't mustered up the confidence. Sometimes it's the heaviness of the outer world weighing on you that cuts you short, and other times it's your inner world.
Losing access to the creative part of my brain wasn't any of these things.
It was dark. There were no ideas, no paths. No ability to create plans.
There was no horizon.
And I didn't describe it that way until the moment my creativity started coming back to me.
I'd had about a year of treatment for Intracranial Hypertension, a condition where the chronic increase of cerebrospinal fluid pressure causes the same symptoms as a brain tumor. It also increases your risk of a stroke and can cause permanent blindness. It’s… fun (/sarcasm, obviously).
And the treatment (that I hatefully call “the Hell Medicine”) worsened my other conditions, as if dealing with IH itself wasn't enough. I'd moved past the point of having flares where I couldn't tolerate movement, sound, or light. Where more than 2 minutes on a phone call was enough to tank my limited function for weeks. I was still very bedbound but I found that working in very small spurts on pre-made embroidery packs as my hands and brain allowed gave me the experience of creating while missing the skills to fully design and execute a project myself. Like someone handed me a complete end result and path they lovingly constructed that I only had to act on, even when my own creative landscape was dark.
Then I came across an artist using their iPad to draw patterns for their embroidery pieces. I thought.. hmmmm, this feels like.. something. It was the flicker of inspiration- like someone trying to spark an old lighter that had been left in the dirt that had a tinyyy bit of fluid left in it- something I hadn’t been able to feel in 4 years.
And as the months went on, my body and my brain responded more and more to the treatment; a creative future started to open up. I started to see things people created and imagine the path they took to get there. I started remembering photos I'd taken and color combinations I fell in love with while walking through my neighborhood in New Orleans. I thought of all the old illustrations I’d painted and gave to close friends over the years. I started having... ideas. I got an iPad for my birthday so I could start drawing and painting again. I wasn't immediately able to use it, but the sun had just started rising. And its rays were just starting to light the sky.
One day, the sun finally breached, illuminating everything. I could finally see a vast landscape with so many creative destinations and paths. It was this moment that suddenly I realized that whole time- for 4 whole years- I hadn't had a horizon. And now I had one. The relief of seeing it. Of being reconnected to an essential part of myself that had been there for me as long as I could remember.
So, I created a map for myself, and I plotted out all the potential destinations in one sitting. I went from having no plans, no projects, no creative future, just darkness to having a full map of realistic potential. Of connections. Of plans. My creative brain was finally back online, and I got to work.
A year after that was my last appointment with my neuro-ophthamologist (my IH doctor), where she officially told me I was in remission and could stop the Hell Medicine. And while many of my conditions contributed to this loss of my creativity- and I still very much struggle with them- IH was clearly the heavy lifter. And as a thank you, I created this piece for her (she collects eye-related art, of course!) and gave her this explanation:
Taino people do not have a lot of eye-specific imagery, but we are water people. I used our designs and stories to connect the water of the eye with the water of the earth.
The eye here is colored like the moon and is also a turtle shell; you can see the turtles' head and front arms on the left and right. Like other indigenous people, we associate turtles with the moon due to the 13 sections of its shell and associate the moon with water cycles. In our origin stories, Caguama is the first turtle, the first being to move between the earth and water elements freely, gives birth to the first Taino people, and offers her shell- the cave- as our first home.
The shapes above and below the eye are fish, and in the four corners are fish nets. Fish are important in our origin stories, connecting us to our ancestors and teaching us our death rites as well as being our first source of food.
Other symbols represent earth, water, movement, and origin, including the water droplets in the background.
And that last question…………… Are you afraid of losing it again?
Dios mío, sí.
So I just make as much art as I possibly can.
Borikén Mail Club
Third Season Mail Drop!
The last batch of envelopes for the last Mail Drop went out a few days ago! So if you haven’t received yours in the mail yet, it’s on its way, so keep an eye out!
If you’re not a member and would like to join and receive these in your mailbox, get the BMC Newsletter on the 15th, and see the secret content below 👇, you can learn more and join here!
Things I’ve Been Enjoying
David Hockey- one of my favorite artists- passed away a few weeks ago. I love this interview with him:
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