DECAY TO MAKE WAY.

“Decaying” flies in the face of every pre-conceived notion we have about our art practice. We’re prompted to save every facet of our creative lives. We learn it in museum collections, in the overflowing box of our childhood artwork, in the well-intentioned friend who keeps every doodle “for when you get famous.”

This can be extremely toxic to our creative lives! If every act of creation must be chronicled and catalogued, then making stuff becomes a high stakes game. If it’s there forever, there’s no room to experiment, play, or make mistakes. Without decay, our soil becomes depleted. Without regular shedding, our creative practice becomes constrictive and overwhelming.

When you’re feeling creatively empty, channel snakes and earthworms and mushrooms and set up some practices to shed your skins, churn your soil, and rot your art. Shred your art and smash your assumptions! Cut or scribble over old doodles. Smash ceramics and make mosaics. Recycle old melodies into something new. Print out old poems and rearrange every word. If you’re working through some mental muck: Set a timer and brain dump every blech feeling. Write down every way you’re angry until you’re not anymore. Bury or burn or compost your papers. Unsubscribe and politely decline. Drop stones in a river, and linger over the letting go.