Prompt 96. Drawing in the Margins
Part of my practice as an artist is organizing community murals in schools, where everyone from the students to the principal takes part. Over the decades I’ve done this, I’ve become fascinated by how people relate to creativity and some of the patterns I’ve observed.
With teachers and school staff, about ninety-nine percent of the time, they have hardly passed through the door when they declare: “I can’t draw. Only stick figures.” With principals, often it’s worse. One even asked if she could make her image by tracing a logo. I’m always amazed at how resistant people can be. I always think, Of course you can draw. You were just never shown how, or never encouraged to believe you could.
With the kids, the delight in the process usually gets them going, but not always. Some start freely, but soon lose confidence. After glancing at their neighbors’ work, they end up replicating what they see, resorting to what’s most generic—and oh, the contagion of rainbows and smileys! Others will make one small mark, look at it, ask for an eraser, and get very upset before they’ve even tried. The ones who artistically thrive are those who accept whatever is happening on their small canvas, letting the paint talk to them and guide their imagination towards something they hadn’t even planned. They simply trust that they can.
When it comes to my studio practice, I constantly experiment with new ways to get into a creative flow. I have a whole arsenal of tactics. It might be switching to a new routine. It might be using chance. It might be setting simple rules and limitations. It might be observing miniscule events unfolding inside my studio—the sun hitting a painting just so, an insect landing on the window sill. It might be having no routine.
More often than not, I find that the real stuff happens in the margins—meaning a free-flowing zone where the stakes are lower and I’m somehow able to tap into the essential. That often occurs in the morning, warming up with a small sketch, or at dusk, relaxing into a more playful mode because the work day is behind me.
Varying my approach helps relieve the pressure and muffles the “I can’t” voice. Drawing in the margins frees me from my ego and unlocks that flowing creative mode where I just do.
Your prompt for today:
Set a timer for one minute and make a list of all the things that help you feel creatively unlocked—the sources you reach for, the tools you need, the objects that inspire you, the workspace and routines that feel generative. Then, write about what this list reveals about you and your creative process.
Bonus: Make a metaphorical shrine of your creative process—for example, illustrate it in your journal, render it in recipe form, arrange inspiring objects into a tableau, or put visual elements together into a collage. If you want, snap a picture and share in the Facebook group or Instagram, tagging @theisolationjournals.
Today’s Contributor
Anne Francey’s studio practice includes painting, drawing and ceramic, and she has exhibited in the United States, Switzerland, and Tunisia. She is the recipient of several grants from the New York State Council of the Arts for creating community murals in schools and public spaces. Most recently she was named a Fulbright Scholar for 2021 in Tunisia.