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A young pre-schooler in the midst of an art class is asked by the teacher, “What are you drawing?” The child replies, “I’m drawing a picture of God.” The teacher in perfect adult fashion responds, “But no one knows what God looks like.” Without missing a beat the child retorts, “They will now!” For this young soul, or perhaps a very old soul, the creative process was quite simple: embark on the impossible and respond spontaneously.
As a young boy I began to unearth a profound love of music. As the wonders and joys of classical music were opened to me, I had a ravenous appetite to hear everything that had ever been composed. In a music class somewhere around Grade 6 or so I found myself writing music. I drew my own staff paper and away I went happily putting notes down. I even titled the two pieces: “White Sonata” and “Blue Sonata.” The teacher eventually came by my desk and asked me what I was doing. I said, “I’m composing.” Miraculously, she said nothing, nothing that would discourage me from continuing to “compose.” You see, I simply thought that composing happened spontaneously all at once. It was years later that I learned that such a spontaneous creative process visited very few composers. So once again, embarking on the impossible!
Later on my love of music married my love of theatre and I began writing musical comedies. That prompting to embark on the impossible developed into an innate feeling that I could do anything (and everything).
In my early years I discovered the creative ladies of The Manor Club, an all-women’s community social society in my home town, which produced an original musical comedy every year. I was gradually becoming aware of professional musical theatre since we actually did live “forty-five minutes from Broadway,” but here were people in my own neighborhood doing it and doing it successfully. The idea of collaboration began to rise on my horizon of considerations about the creative process.
When I reached prep school, my Broadway theatre-going was in full stride, but once again there were two teachers in the school who wrote an original musical every year and I wanted to be a part of it. Somewhere in that experience dawned the notion, “If they can do it, I can do it!” So, in Grade 12, I wrote my first one-act musical.
Still young and convinced the world revolved around me, I was totally unaware that creativity was happening all around me: parents parenting, teachers teaching, coaches coaching with collaboration everywhere!
When I got to University, I found a vibrant community of creative young people in music and theatre. I had the special privilege of writing and producing a new musical every year. I was surrounded by gifted actors, musicians, directors and designers. As a kid I had wanted to be a concert pianist, (a lonely choice, to be sure) but now I discovered the joy (and exasperation) of a collaborative artform. While music was and always will be a mainstay in my life, the theatre became my primary form of expression.
As I entered my final undergraduate year, I won an all-expense-paid one-way trip to tropical Vietnam courtesy of Uncle Sam. It was the first year of the draft lottery and all the 19 to 25-year olds were in the draw. My birthday came out 49th, which was a definite “go.” So, a major regrouping found me seeking a 2D (“Divinity”) deferment. All other deferment categories had been cancelled. Since my undergraduate major was religious studies and I was heavily involved in theatre and music, my academic advisor recommended I persue a degree in Theology and the Arts. Very quickly and with the cooperation of several kind folks, I had an acceptance into graduate school and an ecclesiastical affiliation, which together got me the 2D.
My graduate studies were lively and stimulating and I continued writing, directing and acting. The more I delved into what appeared as two disciplines, I realized that theology/spirituality and art/creativity were not so very different. They both sprang from a soul prompting to express awe.
After grad school, I found myself teaching. Although it has never been my primary career path, I have always taught, mostly at University. I enjoyed teaching comparative religion, which provided students an array of spiritual traditions through which to perceive creation and our role as humans in it.
After several years I found myself in a most exciting arena – a course on the creative process offered through the School of Dramatic Art at the University of Windsor. It is offered as an arts elective and attracts a wide range of majors often in their last semester before graduation. The course is not so much about making art as it is about being creative.
The course explores the processes of many great creatives: Leonardo Da Vinci, Twyla Tharp, Leonard Bernstein, Rick Rubin, Paul Taylor – in the exploration of the creative processes of others we discover our own. I feel the creative process unfolds in four stages.
Of course, with any process things may get sloppy. No creative process fits into distinct stages or phases. There is always a shuttling back and forth between stages before we can say something is finished or at least has arrived at that point where we can deliver it to the world.
In addition to discovering one’s own creative process these are some other helpful skills:
Stay awake. Stay curious. Ask questions. Test ideas. Stay open.
Highten the senses. Smell colour. Taste sound. Listen to flavour.
Learn to live with paradox and ambiguity. Things are never what they seem and our thoughts about them never stay in place. Practice holding two opposing ideas at the same time. Befriend uncertainty.
Balance the left and right brain. This dichotomy is purely analytical. In our life experience they dance together.
Keep fit in body and mind. Hone your craft.
Become aware of your multidimensionality. Find the connectedness in things.
And above all, enjoy what you are doing!
– Barry T. Brodie
Barry T. Brodie is a poet, playwright, actor, director and teacher. He has written two books: The Language of the Star – Journals of the Magi and Tom Thomson – On the Threshold of Magic (Black Moss Press). His poetry has appeared in Amethyst Review and The Orchards Poetry Journal as well as The Middle Space – Windsor’s Public Art (Black Moss Press). He held the Chair in Religion and the Arts at Assumption University, co-founded Shō – Art, Spirit & Performance and currently teaches a course on the creative process at the University of Windsor. Barry was a founding member of the Earth-Stage Actors, an ensemble that worked closely with Kenneth G. Mills in bringing his poetic and philosophical work to the stage. The film adaptation of his play, The Thousand Colours of the Morning, about Johannes Brahms and Robert and Clara Schumann, is slated for release later this year.
