Creative Work/play

One of my favorite sci fi novels, Ursula LeGuin’s The Dispossessed, imagines an “ambiguous utopia” (as the subtitle tells us) on a small moon orbiting a capitalist planet. When the novel opens, the society of Anarres is several generations away from its founding by a bunch of rebellious “anarcho-syndicalists” — and still evolving . A detail I loved even on my first reading was that the language on Anarres has only one word for work and play. (There may have been a separate word for sheer drudgery.)

Work/play as a single word is definitely a utopian concept. No work is always play. Although I loved teaching literature classes, even that job had sludgy bits: days when half the class was coming down with colds (or I was), when it was brutally hot and even popsicles helped only for a few minutes, or when my students were preoccupied with emotional crises. And let’s not forget the bane of every English teacher: a stack of papers to grade.

Yet most of the time, it was joyful, fulfilling work/play. I loved it right up until the day I retired. For many people, though, the last year or two of their careers wears them down. The work gets more routine and tiring. It gets less interesting, too, or they get less interested in it. As my friends have retired one by one, some have just enjoyed the slower pace, lower stress, and freedom to sleep late. Others have been grabbing  the chance to re-experience work/play. 

My friend Peter is one of those who are work/playing hard. Recently I asked him to write me about his return to painting, and here’s what he told me. In high school, Peter painted in “a large, beautifully lit studio where one could fully exercise the right side of the brain. For whatever reason,” he continued, “I enjoyed painting trains—the sound, the speed, the motion.” But once in college, his classes, travel, and work absorbed his time and attention. And for forty years, he immersed himself in “the demanding, fascinating world of medicine,” administering the curriculum of a medical school.

Then, in 2011, as he was mulling over retirement, his daughter said to him, “I’m tired of hearing you talk about how you used to draw and paint. Get back to it.” He listened, and got back to it.

(Here’s one of his paintings, from a trip to Mexico.)

Although his goal was to paint, Peter realized that he needed excellent skills in drawing first. He took two years of drawing classes, then ventured into pastels. But when he took a class in watercolor and “the colors moved, blended,” that was when he knew he’d found what he loved.

He takes it seriously, as both work and play. After enrolling in classes for a few years, he now works one-on-one with a mentor/coach once a month. He also has a “contract” with another painter: they’ve made a pact not only to paint every day –no excuses! – but also to send whatever they’ve painted to each other that very evening. Peter loves the energy of painting in this fresh way: alla prima, or “at one go, or creating the appearance of doing so.” He’s learned, though, that “the appearance of spontaneity is often achieved only with a clear plan, a good design, and a lot of forethought. Not to mention good drawing!”

I witnessed Peter’s dedication to his art firsthand when he and his wife visited us in Florence last fall. (Because I’m fond of Italy, I’ve included photos of a couple of his paintings from there. Copyright remains with him.) No matter what wonderful sites we were planning to visit that day, Peter painted. At the end of every day, he took a photo of his work and sent it to his fellow painter. Here’s the kind of scene he painted there:

With all this dedication, perhaps it’s not surprising that he’s improving by leaps and bounds. Peter puts it more modestly: he “occasionally glimpses,” he says, “the distant spires of competence.” He’s having fun with his painting, and there’s “no rush….”

Ah, the joy of having time to improve slowly – with no need to earn a living from one’s art!

Peter’s example is inspiring, even if my own creative activities are less directed and energetic. I enjoy futzing around with my fiction, my blog, and my colored pencils. Other people in my orbit allow their creative sides out to play through writing, sewing, cooking, baking, gardening, or putting together family histories.

And what about you, dear reader? Are you taking up new interests? Returning to old ones? Waiting to see what will grab you? Let me know!