Recommitting to Creative Play with the Help of My Kindergarten Self
On my morning walk one day, a flash of yellow caught my eye. I knelt in the dew-wet grass for a closer look. Yes! It was a yellow garden spider, Argiope aurantia. Her web stretched between the stems and leaves of a clump of daylilies.
“Hello, beautiful.”
She was the first yellow garden spider I’ve seen here and noticing her filled me with joy.
Being surrounded by nature's wonders is one of the reasons I longed to move to the country. Now, living here, each new plant or bird or spider is a delight. And making these discoveries reminds me of who I am and who I want to be.
When I first started blogging, something like 18 years ago*, I chose the name My Giant Strawberry as a nod to my kindergarten self. To the girl who got in trouble for telling stories about her pet giraffe and strawberry as big as the garage. I hoped to be able to reclaim my childhood imagination. My creative fearlessness. My ease when making art and making things up.
I kept the name when I started another blog in 2010 and started teaching myself how to paint.
I kept the name when I opened my first Etsy shop to sell jewelry and handmade bags.
I kept the name when I built a website for my art and started selling that, too.
a drawing of little Anne and some brainstorming in my sketchbook
But I’m not always conscious of that part of my creative identity. Life gets in the way. Business gets in the way.
The first time my brother visited last year after Matthias and I moved to our property, he said this place looked like it came straight out of my imagination. I’ve thought about his comment a lot over the months as I’ve gotten to know the land, the trees, the quirky outbuildings. Putting down roots here has felt like a return to myself. To my childhood creativity. Curiosity. Joy.
I recently read something about September being the new January. And I keep hearing people share similar thoughts about this month with its back-to-school energy, even for those not going back to school. September is a time to get back to work. To set goals and start new projects. To buckle down for a successful 4th quarter of the business year. Of course, this isn’t really new. The “end” of summer** is traditionally a time to get back to work. To trade barefoot days for cozy sweaters and soup. And although most years I’m holding onto every last minute of summer, each time September rolls around, I’m also easily carried away by its new pen and notebook freshness.
This year, I’m not feeling it.
This year my yearning isn’t for buckling down, but for loosening my grip. I’m craving PLAY. I want to invite my kindergarten self back into the picture. I want her to take me by the hand and guide me through the woods, pointing out the perfect acorn, a newly emerged mushroom and hop of a toad vanishing beneath the underbrush.
my tiny sketchbook has been a joy
But, Anne, you’re an artist. Isn’t PLAY your job?
Yes, but…
There are so many reasons why play, true creative play, gets pushed to the side. Even if you’re an artist and “play” is your job.
When we’re children, play isn’t something we have to think about. It isn’t something we need to remind ourselves to do. As we get older, we lose touch with what it means to truly play. Play either gets more serious or we set it aside as frivolous, unnecessary, childish. Instead we focus on More Important things. And setting aside play becomes a habit.
Even if we’ve gotten back in touch with our creativity (or never lost touch with it at all), giving ourselves time for play — without pressure or expectation — can be difficult. It’s easy to get swept up by those More Important things (there are an awful lot of them, aren’t there?). And yet, play feeds our creativity. It gives us energy and inspiration to keep making art. It helps us problem solve and come up with new ideas. And in turn, it allows us to show up refreshed for our More Important things.
As I mentioned in my most recent Joy Letter, I’ve been seeing mentions of PLAY everywhere lately. It’s clear I’m not the only one who’s been yearning for it. Life is heavy in the world these days. And it’s heavy for so many of us personally, too, for lots of reasons. Perhaps a return to play is just what we need. Play might not solve the world’s problems, but it will help us to show up in it with a little more joy. And our world can definitely use more joy.
My playful, imaginative kindergarten self was with me when I first noticed the garden spider. She was with me each time, morning and evening, I climbed the hill by the barn to check on the spider’s web. “Hello, beautiful, how are you this morning?” “Hello, beautiful, did you have a good day?” “Hello, beautiful, I’m glad the storm didn’t damage your web.” The morning I knelt down in the dew-wet grass and the web was empty, that little Anne reminded me of the end of Charlotte’s Web, of the multitude of baby spiders taking flight and the three daughters who stayed in the barn with Wilbur.
I haven’t found any spiderlings, but I’m still looking.
A few other ways I’ve been playing lately:
Exploring curiosity
Although it might not sound like it, being curious, paying attention and observing is one of my favorite ways to play. You never know what you might discover. Last month I wrote about experimenting and in many ways it’s similar. One of the best things about experiments (and play) is letting go of an outcome. Asking the question, what would happen if… and being open to surprise.
The other day I noticed that some of the velvet leaf (Abutilon theophrasti) seed pods had turned brown. Velvet leaf is one of the weeds growing in my clover meadow and it’s one I love. I was fascinated by the plant when I was a child. How could I not be? Heart shaped leaves that feel even softer than velvet? Flowers that become the most interesting pods?
I snapped one of the pods off the plant to see if the seeds were ready. They were.
What a delight to discover that the seeds are shaped like tiny hearts. Like little love letters from nature.
Sketchbooks
Sketchbooks are always one of my favorite ways to play. I can experiment, try new art supplies, make messes, make mistakes…
sketching the same subject with different materials is a fun sketchbook exercise
Lately my sketchbooks have been sidelined by a few projects I needed to finish, but even when it’s been ages since I’ve worked in them, knowing they’re there waiting for me is a joy.
Color
COLOR is another one of my favorite ways to play. If I have no energy but I want to do something creative, making color swatches never fails to cheer me up.
Maybe I’ll test different materials to see how the colors look together. Or I’ll mix some paint and see what happens. Often I end up liking my color test sheets as much as finished art.
Of course, as a gardener, playing with color in the garden and with flowers cut from the garden is always a delight, too.
And in the last couple of weeks Matthias and I have finally begun adding some touches of color to our home. There’s so much deconstruction and repair that we still need to do before we can begin decorating, but we couldn’t resist painting a few doors. We saved a bit of money by choosing an unfinished front door when we had it replaced this spring, but we weren’t sure what color we wanted to paint it.
We finally chose a bold orange. And then also painted the ugly, yellowed garage door the same color.
Each time I catch of glimpse of it, I’m delighted. Especially with the begonia hanging beside it.
Then, inspired by the pops of color on the house, I couldn’t resist giving the jarringly white shed door it’s own joyful makeover. I had a can of unopened paint from a project I never got around to at our old house.
shed door before
shed door after
Such fun!
Have you been making time for play lately?
Later this month in my post for paid Substack subscribers, I’ll be digging deeper into what it means to play and how I’m inviting more playfulness into my art practice. I’ll also be sharing ideas for how you can invite more play into your life and creative practice, too.
*I don’t remember exactly, as that blog no longer exists.
**Yes, I’m a bit in denial about this ending and I’m holding onto the next 11 days until the Autumnal Equinox.
