My Gruesomely Cute Little Blog

Welcome to my Creative Rut (again) I have been here so many times before — it used to happen every 2 months, but now I can expect about two weeks of downtime for every three weeks of creativity. Even though this is predictable and regular, I only became aware of how my creativity ebbs and flows in the last six months. Just as in Groundhog Day when Bill Murray’s character wakes up with surprise each time his day repeats, I’ve been surprised when I fall into the rut again, regardless of the how many times its happened. However, unlike good ‘ol Bill, I didn’t get used to it — let alone master it. At the beginning of my Mused State, I am capable of creating with absolute abandon. The creative connections in my brain feel like they sparkle and zap with energy. New materials fire me up. I am just a channel for this creative energy pouring through my veins, and I feel like each new work of art is a little creation who I am simply discovering, rather than shaping. The back-to-back dopamine hits are my high and I am living for it. Then the low arrives. Like I said; this used to surprise me. I was on fire! Why did it end? What did I do wrong? Will the Muse every return to bless me? Have I been forsaken of all creative energy, forever? This used to take me to a bland low where I beat myself up for losing it again: I’m a failure. I have no idea why I create in the first place. I feel nothing but remorse; I have lost my joy and I don’t know if I’ll find it again. Boy that escalated, right? I used to wallow in that state for weeks or even months, then the Muse would show up again and I’d once more feel like I was ALIVE. I’m here to share that we all have these ebbs and flows and they are natural. Better yet, I have found some methods to work through them. These skills may not work for everyone, but look at yourself as a science experiment — try things until you find the thing that works for you. Recharging in the Rut Method 1: Track the frequency and prepare Discover how often you can expect yourself to fall into the rut. It’s empowering — once it isn’t a surprise, you can ready yourself for it. For example, I know that for every three weeks of inspiration I delight in, there will be 2-3 weeks of downtime after. I no longer beat myself up for this. In fact I feel it coming on like a cold and, as I do, I increase my self care proportionately. I don’t mourn the “loss”; that is a completely incorrect label — it’s actually a period of recharging. My body has been running high on dopamine and endorphins for three weeks, and now my supply is getting low. Once my body is done restocking, I can start the loop again. Realizing the frequency of this experience has made me more self-aware and less self-critical when the recharge strikes. Method 2: Get abstract for awhile I went about a decade without drawing, in spite of the fact I’d previously drawn almost every day of my life. I shifted my creativity to other things like writing music and filming during that era. In the meantime, my drawing skills atrophied so badly that when I tried to pick up a pen again, I felt dead inside. I felt the pull to create, but it had no form. The idea of drawing people, animals, or flowers sounded daunting and exhausting (even though I loved drawing those subjects previously). So instead, I started splashing watercolors onto paper and discovering the naturally occurring shapes therein. Chance gave me the form, so I didn’t have to. After about a year of this, I had fully recuperated my various multimedia techniques and had rebuilt my drawing muscles in my right hand, too. I was able and ready to give form to my ideas again: Cats and bunnies! And then from there, Gruesome Cuties!

Why do I publish what I create? I’ve been asking myself this question for months. At baseline, I recognize that the act of being creative meets a critical need for my brain to be happy. Creativity and innovation are like an illness that — if I bottle it up in my body — I’ll eventually need to vomit it out. So in that respect, releasing it is an act of self-care and a necessity for wellbeing. That said, once I have extracted the benefit of creation from my art, I could just stick my creations on my wall or in a drawer. Instead, I desire to put my work online and sell it. Why do I feel the need to do that, if the sheer act of creation is enough? Isn’t it…? My desire to publish my art is evolving. I explored the possibilities that maybe I wanted to make money from them, or because I wanted dopamine hits from the appreciation of others on social media, but I don’t feel like either of those are the complete answer — they are peripheral benefits. There’s something else driving me that I haven’t been able to quite name, and it has really bothered me. It’s a weird feeling when you live in your one-and-only brain every single day, yet discover that you don’t know the reason it likes to behave in a particular way. I’ve lived in this brain my whole life — how do I not know every nook and cranny?! With the creation of my Gruesome Cuties, I have finally realized why I enjoy putting my art out there: I like setting my art free to grow in the lore that others’ perspectives grant to it. I love the connections developed by those experiences. Until now, my old style of art did not offer that kind of connection. My illustrations were cute, but they did not inspire any further feelings in my viewers. Not so with my Gruesome Cuties! Ohhhhh boy, do people have things to say! Breathing life into art Art takes on a life of its own when people start expressing the feelings it elicits. The Gruesome Cuties have garnered some of the most hilarious feedback I’ve received regarding my creations. Unlike my previous happy-go-lucky cartoon illustrations, these gruesome little sculptures draw a visceral gut reaction from people—whether they like it or hate it, they feel something strongly, and I am so here for it: “[It’s] Sid the sloth after a transporter accident” “Thanks I hate it! (In the best way, they’re really well done!)” “Using your own molars is a unique level of commitment” "These would make great bathroom tiles! Could you imagine, a whole shower lined with these guys...." "First time bringing home a date, 'Darling, would you like to join me in the shower?'" “Wow that's wild, looks like a bar of soap. ‘Hunny did you buy a different brand of soap?... cause it's talking to me’ haha” “Lots of guys would like that bar of soap. Just sayin.” “I’d be terrified it would eat whatever the hell I was trying to wash with it.” …....?! First of all--HAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA, I love Reddit! 😆 Second of all-- If I don’t put my art into the world, it only has the meaning I gave it upon creation. It stops growing, and therefore it stops living. If I release it into the world to entertain and/or horrify my fellow humans, my art takes on a new lore that I cannot give it with my single perspective, alone. Like the electricity with which Dr. Frankenstein jolted his monster, my viewers breathe life into my creations. A satisfying answer (for me) So I think I’ve finally found the reason why I keep putting my stuff out there, and I feel a little more comfortable in my own brain now that I understand why it’s cares to keep trying. I’m on the edge of my seat, eager to hear the stories my creatures inspire as they take on their own life and lore. It’s nice to know this is a delight and a drive for me, as a creative. If you’ve contributed to their stories, thank you!!! You are giving my art the life I hoped for it, no matter how cute or gruesome that story may be! 🤗 -Jen