Meeting Fires Creative

Have you ever felt burnout in your chosen path? Have you considered giving up on that path, feeling like there wasn’t any more fuel in the tank to keep pushing? Have you ever wondered if maybe what you knew, and always did, was somehow not as satisfying any longer? I have, and lately, I often do.

I’ve led a creative life for a few decades now, and in some ways it’s all I really know. I chose to move my passion for photography from a hobby to a job, and have been ‘making money with my camera’ ever since. Sure, there was a period in between magazine jobs when my freelance life was struggling. Working for a start up newspaper with an unscrupulous owner who locked us out in the middle of the night, well, that caused some short term pain. I jumped into A/V work, wrapping cables and striking shows before I realized I was absorbed by this work and almost forgot about my intentions – making money with my camera. This was, after all, the name of the night class I took exploring all the options to do just that. I landed on Photojournalism and that led me to Vancouver and my start with Adbusters, Momentum Mag, and that fateful North Shore newspaper.

Lately, I had been feeling a little out of sorts in the creative department. I have some great clients and satisfying work with them, at times challenging and demanding, but on a personal level I often left the camera at home. This was new, this was strange. What to do? I started to experiment with vintage lenses and digital bodies. I began working with film again, finding some nice infrared stock that gets me close to what Kodak offered years ago. I posted and then I stopped posting. Did anyone really want to see this stuff? Did I care to share? Was my happiness peaking at the moment I hit that shutter, my ‘marked’ finger engaging with my contraption as it has for what? A million times? Two?

As a creative, especially one who gets paid to be so, what tools are there to stimulate and engage with the process? It can be downright depressing, feeling out of touch with your chosen medium. I needed to ground myself, find a new outlet and perhaps get me back to personal photography again.

I work with ink and have a notebook full of drawings, a calming practice I come back to often. I have screenprinted in the past and pulled that out of storage. Hmm, a little too image based for right now. I set up my synthesizers, drum machines and keys… and promptly get stuck in a technical loop wondering how all this stuff works again. Once I figure it out and get going, well where is that spark that brought me here in the first place?

Last autumn I had some unexpected time off between jobs and signed up for pottery. Beginner wheel throwing classes at Hand Eye Ceramics. Just showing up felt good. I was in a beginner’s mindset – what I strove for and needed to re-engage with my creative self. I went to the classes and loved the feeling of being in the present moment — wheel spinning, gazing down on it, hands fully engaged in the earthy medium, nothing but this in my immediate field of vision. One small movement whoops! There goes that pot. A slight deviation from concentration, damn – that’s not centered anymore. This is good! It puts me right into a moment where creative decisions are happening intuitively, spontaneously, adapting to what is in front of me. Right. Now.

I made some pieces, got ‘hooked’ as they say, and signed up for more classes over winter. I threw and played around, going to open studio as much as I could. The space is comfortable, the people there are all wonderful and welcoming. I found a little niche community and I loved it. To say I am a total beginner is the truth, but guess what? I like being a beginner. I like not always knowing what I am doing, how to get to point B from point A, how to fix a mistake and when to abandon and let it all go. Seeing a lump on the wheel become a mug, nope, a vase, nope, a wide bowl….depending on how on it I am that day. Perfect centering one afternoon, disastrous work the following day. As a beginner, this is fun and rewarding in itself. These surprises jolt you out of any rut, for that moment anyway.

Then came the desire (the expectation?) to share. I was proud of my work, I thought hey, I made a few things that resemble objects people may like / use. No grand illusions of ‘making money with my clay’ but a stimulating hobby that may in fact track back to my actual career. So, it is time to share. To be proud, but also to open up about process and inspiration. To show work as a beginner, nothing polished or all that unique. But – gulp – a step in the direction of being open with myself about this life I have chosen, and the reality of what it really takes to let creativity flow. Now I have some items to photograph and – bonus! – some new, different ideas for working creatively with my camera again as well.

I started a new pottery session this week and I have already filled my notebook with ideas and designs.
Time to get throwing again!

Vancouver, 2024.
Ceramics by David Niddrie
Sapelle wooden plate created by my super talented father, Wayne Niddrie.

(click the first image to view slideshow)