A lifelong and needle-wide learner
As a 4-year old embroiderer
I cannot remember a time when I was not creative. It was perhaps inevitable, having a father who was (and is still) always making things, from beautifully crafted dolls houses with minute furniture to grandfather clocks, RAF station crests and anything else we might desire, and a mother who was an adept needlewoman. Both grandmothers were seamstresses, and I spent many happy hours as a child designing and making knitted and embroidered items. Never content to ‘watch’ television, I always had to have a piece of needlework to keep my hands and eyes busy. It is fitting that I recall the moment in 1963 when my mother came to tell me that President Kennedy had been assassinated: I was sitting on my bed, crocheting a multi-coloured blanket.
My creativity was boundless, and my parents were resourceful in providing me with endless sources of pleasure, be in the Fuzzy Felt pieces I used to fashion flower stall, the miniature Japanese gardens I fashioned in pie dishes or the plaster of paris figurines I made and painted.
These are all noticeably solitary pursuits. I was happy in these and did not feel the need to find outside companions in order to be self-fulfilled.
My creativity was boundless, and my parents were resourceful in providing me with endless sources of pleasure, be in the Fuzzy Felt pieces I used to fashion flower stall, the miniature Japanese gardens I fashioned in pie dishes or the plaster of paris figurines I made and painted.
These are all noticeably solitary pursuits. I was happy in these and did not feel the need to find outside companions in order to be self-fulfilled.
Creative writing
From an early age I channelled my creative imagination into writing and, to my parents’ amusement, would take myself into the garage in order to savour the sound of rain on its asbestos roof, as I scribbled away or read. By my undergraduate days I had advanced to emulating my beloved Proust, in English or French, a habit I am glad to record I have long outgrown!
My writing has, as for many creative people, been at its most productive when I am least emotionally stable. Hence I published several not-very-good novels, under a pseudonym, fortunately. It was only in retrospect that I realised what must have been patently obvious to others: they were all about identity, or rather the quest for one. My ventures into poetry were more successful, if public recognition is the judge: for a few years, I contributed and won prizes in my local council/book store poetry competitions, and published quite widely elsewhere. Paradoxically, my creative writing wanes with personal security, and my need to write is fulfilled through more academic means.
Swimming
I have already alluded to my intense disinterest in sport. The one physical activity I really enjoy and have done since a very young age is swimming. I am in my natural home in water, as can be seen in this early image of me: not yet four, I could find nothing more exciting than to jump from the high diving board into the dark waters of the deep end. This all came to an end when the Suez Crisis moved us into transit camp and back to a cold England, in late 1956.
No longer alone
With Amrutha, Canada 2012
Nevertheless, swimming is still a passion. I may not be a competitive swimmer, but I am a keen one. We make sure that our hotels have a pool for me, and Yoga has recorded me in solitary swimming splendour across the world. Now, though, I have a companion: his young niece is like our surrogate child, and we share our enjoyment of the water.
It is strange to admit that my first career ambition had been a ballet dancer. Ever the precocious intellect, I realised that you have to be exceptional if you are to succeed in that field: I was not exceptional, and besides, I have a phobia which would have made it an impossible career. I abandoned this aspiration. With hindsight, this might just be an excuse for avoiding failure.
Stigma and mental illness
Most of my interests remain related to reading, from sociology to psychiatry, history to politics. The one difference is that whereas in the past these were consumed and inwardly digested without discussion, for nearly two decades I have had Yoga to share these please. We are never at a loss for topics of interest and spend many hours working on joint presentations in our mission to destigmatise mental illness. No longer teaching myself, I find an outlet in this work, which has taken us around the globe, in turn enriching our experience and awareness.
Typically, as with the presentation illustrated, we accompany the slide show with an interactive questionnaire. I analyse returns in order to determine individual perceptions of how their views have changed as a result of the workshop.
New directions
www.kiaragroup.org
It was at one of our international workshops that I made a new acquantaince, one who would bring a new direction into my 'retirement'. In Cape Town Endi Ezengwa came into our lives. This Nigerian, London-based humanitarian has made it his lifer's work to attempt to stem the brain drain from developing countries. Supporting this enterprise is a set of companies, the Kiara Group. In the last five months, I have been working on a voluntary basis and now sport the title Director of Media and Resources. I have a particular role to play as we rebrand the companies and embark on local, African, projects. These aim to train mental health workers and establish care units in each country, so as to cascade their model to other parts of the community.
So now I have another group of colleagues, a new identity and am able to use many of the managerial skills that have layn untapped for a number years. I could not have foreseen this turn of events, and am constantly reminded of the almost uncanny way in which people are brought together: two people from different parts of the world met in another part, but happen to live and work within ten miles of each other!
So now I have another group of colleagues, a new identity and am able to use many of the managerial skills that have layn untapped for a number years. I could not have foreseen this turn of events, and am constantly reminded of the almost uncanny way in which people are brought together: two people from different parts of the world met in another part, but happen to live and work within ten miles of each other!
Research into creative professionals
In 20010/11, I undertook research into perceptions of creativity and the contexts where people feel creative: at work, in leisure pursuits, volunteering and so on. The results of this work and interviews with individual participants can be viewed at:
http://creativeinterventions.pbworks.com/w/page/27822835/Becoming%20a%20Creative%20Professional
http://creativeinterventions.pbworks.com/w/page/27822835/Becoming%20a%20Creative%20Professional
CREATIVITY IN DEVELOPMENT NARRATIVE INQUIRY
In December 2013, Professor Norman Jackson, Director of the Lifewide Education Community, launched a new investigation:
During the last 12 months, and especially since we acquired our Values Exchange website, LWE has been involved in facilitating professional learning by gathering views through surveys and synthesising and presenting the results. This is a role and service that we would like to extend and our latest adventure in professional learning has been to set up a website to enable people who are interested in gaining a better understanding of their own creativity and how it features in their developmental processes, to contribute to a narrative inquiry. By this I mean to tell a story about their own development and share their understandings of their creativity in this process.
The process is open to anyone who is interested and willing to devote the time and effort to creating a narrative. Narratives can be about any aspect of development in any aspect of their lives - work, education, family, hobbies, sport, community, travel, illness or any other aspect of their lives. It is envisaged that processes for personal development will last for between 3 to 12 months to enable development to be recorded and recognised.
Contributions will be published in an E-Book hosted by the website. Further details can be found at: http://www.creativityindevelopment.co.uk/
Our progress on this project will be recorded and can be followed on the creatvity website,
http://www.creativityindevelopment.co.uk/ . I have committed to keeping a narrative for 6 months, from December 2013. I have not yet decided whether to make it all public as I go along, but here below is my initial reflection for the project.
During the last 12 months, and especially since we acquired our Values Exchange website, LWE has been involved in facilitating professional learning by gathering views through surveys and synthesising and presenting the results. This is a role and service that we would like to extend and our latest adventure in professional learning has been to set up a website to enable people who are interested in gaining a better understanding of their own creativity and how it features in their developmental processes, to contribute to a narrative inquiry. By this I mean to tell a story about their own development and share their understandings of their creativity in this process.
The process is open to anyone who is interested and willing to devote the time and effort to creating a narrative. Narratives can be about any aspect of development in any aspect of their lives - work, education, family, hobbies, sport, community, travel, illness or any other aspect of their lives. It is envisaged that processes for personal development will last for between 3 to 12 months to enable development to be recorded and recognised.
Contributions will be published in an E-Book hosted by the website. Further details can be found at: http://www.creativityindevelopment.co.uk/
Our progress on this project will be recorded and can be followed on the creatvity website,
http://www.creativityindevelopment.co.uk/ . I have committed to keeping a narrative for 6 months, from December 2013. I have not yet decided whether to make it all public as I go along, but here below is my initial reflection for the project.
Jenny's narrative, first week December 2013
Some introductory thoughts
I chose to start this narrative at a time when I knew I would be engaged in creativity: as I edited the December edition of Lifewide Magazine.
For me, the magazine has offered an opportunity to harness my love of writing and my visual skills, and initially required coming to grips with a new piece of software, Publisher. Like all my other IT skills, this competence was self-taught, and no doubt there are many short-cuts that I would have learnt had I been formally taught. Nevertheless, there is a real satisfaction in mastering a new skill on one’s own.
I am a linguist, and always loved writing and playing with words – how many years did I spend emulating Proust’s elaborate prose, before accepting my inadequacy. I discovered that I can be successful in poetry, where content is brief, but as a novelist, I lacked imagination. After a few years, life overtook me and writing poetry was replaced by living. As I lived, I gained the self-confidence to appreciate my intellectual gifts and to use these to expand my own knowledge and analyse aspects of the world and people around me.
Why have I gone off on this tangent? My train of thought is that in editing Lifewide Magazine, I am constantly challenged to create new articles, delve new themes. I draw enormous pleasure from this at a time of life when I am no longer wanted in the active working population. So, you may ask, is this all self-indulgent, implicitly aimed at my personal self-fulfilment? I cannot deny that there is some need for this sense of self-worth, but I would like to think that, as a teacher, I have never stopped wanting to develop others and to derive pleasure from their success.
But is there a more existential side to my creativity? Are my academic and professional achievements my legacy to a world to which I never wanted to bequeath children?
I have not predetermined how this narrative should be kept. Instead, I have highlighted some of what I anticipate to be key elements of my story – we shall see how correct these are. I am beginning to use my narrative as a means of self-exploration. Perhaps that will be the creative outcome of this exercise.
A tangible demonstration of creativity
The most obvious demonstration of my creativity this week has been publication of Lifewide Magazine 8. I have spent many hours placing and editing the material, deriving immense pleasure from seeing the pages come together. I am reminded of my patience and self-imposed expectations of perfection, as I inspect every space between words and lines, and follow Brian’s professional guidance not to leave any ‘orphans’ dangling on a line. The role of editor is one that suits my character.
Yet I use the word again: I feel a fraud in accepting this title, especially when I have contributed so little conceptual material to this edition. Is this just arrogance? Should I not be proud of the way in which so many other contributors have come together to support this innovative work on learning ecologies? Yes, of course I am proud and grateful, and am brought back to the realisation of how important collaboration is in creativity. For so many years, I was closed in on myself and failed to take the opportunities that life provided: how many other people can say that they have no contact whatsoever with the people they were at university with, their past acquaintances?
Collaboration and social interaction
But then I must explain that I learnt from earliest childhood not to make attachments. Throughout a peripatetic upbringing in the armed forces, with moves every 6 months to 2 years, it was an unconscious response – what the analysts would call a defence mechanism – not to make friends and incur emotional pain when the next move took place. I never missed what I had never had, but wonder in retrospect how different my life would have been had I possessed those interpersonal skills?
How prescient my dear 6th form tutor (who became a lifelong presence in my life until her death) was when she wrote on my final report words to the effect that “Jennifer is somewhat aloof. She would gain much and has much to give if she would come down to the market place.” How right Oxford was in requiring me to take a year out after ‘A’ levels before taking up my university place: how wrong I was in being impatient and failing to recognise my own social immaturity. And here, already, I am touching on one of the most painful errors of my life, my foolish rejection of a place at Oxford and the career it would have promised me. Is this at the root of my need for constant reassurance of my intellectual achievements?
I realise that my account of creativity is become a very personal examination as I let my stream of consciousness drift around.
I chose to start this narrative at a time when I knew I would be engaged in creativity: as I edited the December edition of Lifewide Magazine.
For me, the magazine has offered an opportunity to harness my love of writing and my visual skills, and initially required coming to grips with a new piece of software, Publisher. Like all my other IT skills, this competence was self-taught, and no doubt there are many short-cuts that I would have learnt had I been formally taught. Nevertheless, there is a real satisfaction in mastering a new skill on one’s own.
I am a linguist, and always loved writing and playing with words – how many years did I spend emulating Proust’s elaborate prose, before accepting my inadequacy. I discovered that I can be successful in poetry, where content is brief, but as a novelist, I lacked imagination. After a few years, life overtook me and writing poetry was replaced by living. As I lived, I gained the self-confidence to appreciate my intellectual gifts and to use these to expand my own knowledge and analyse aspects of the world and people around me.
Why have I gone off on this tangent? My train of thought is that in editing Lifewide Magazine, I am constantly challenged to create new articles, delve new themes. I draw enormous pleasure from this at a time of life when I am no longer wanted in the active working population. So, you may ask, is this all self-indulgent, implicitly aimed at my personal self-fulfilment? I cannot deny that there is some need for this sense of self-worth, but I would like to think that, as a teacher, I have never stopped wanting to develop others and to derive pleasure from their success.
But is there a more existential side to my creativity? Are my academic and professional achievements my legacy to a world to which I never wanted to bequeath children?
I have not predetermined how this narrative should be kept. Instead, I have highlighted some of what I anticipate to be key elements of my story – we shall see how correct these are. I am beginning to use my narrative as a means of self-exploration. Perhaps that will be the creative outcome of this exercise.
A tangible demonstration of creativity
The most obvious demonstration of my creativity this week has been publication of Lifewide Magazine 8. I have spent many hours placing and editing the material, deriving immense pleasure from seeing the pages come together. I am reminded of my patience and self-imposed expectations of perfection, as I inspect every space between words and lines, and follow Brian’s professional guidance not to leave any ‘orphans’ dangling on a line. The role of editor is one that suits my character.
Yet I use the word again: I feel a fraud in accepting this title, especially when I have contributed so little conceptual material to this edition. Is this just arrogance? Should I not be proud of the way in which so many other contributors have come together to support this innovative work on learning ecologies? Yes, of course I am proud and grateful, and am brought back to the realisation of how important collaboration is in creativity. For so many years, I was closed in on myself and failed to take the opportunities that life provided: how many other people can say that they have no contact whatsoever with the people they were at university with, their past acquaintances?
Collaboration and social interaction
But then I must explain that I learnt from earliest childhood not to make attachments. Throughout a peripatetic upbringing in the armed forces, with moves every 6 months to 2 years, it was an unconscious response – what the analysts would call a defence mechanism – not to make friends and incur emotional pain when the next move took place. I never missed what I had never had, but wonder in retrospect how different my life would have been had I possessed those interpersonal skills?
How prescient my dear 6th form tutor (who became a lifelong presence in my life until her death) was when she wrote on my final report words to the effect that “Jennifer is somewhat aloof. She would gain much and has much to give if she would come down to the market place.” How right Oxford was in requiring me to take a year out after ‘A’ levels before taking up my university place: how wrong I was in being impatient and failing to recognise my own social immaturity. And here, already, I am touching on one of the most painful errors of my life, my foolish rejection of a place at Oxford and the career it would have promised me. Is this at the root of my need for constant reassurance of my intellectual achievements?
I realise that my account of creativity is become a very personal examination as I let my stream of consciousness drift around.
Narrative week 2, December 9 2013
Creativity and letting go
This was an entirely unexpected chain of thought, but it has been haunting me since last night, when I watched one of the final episodes in a programme I really enjoy: Master Chef, The Professionals*.
Now that the final judgement is near, the remaining 3 competitors were sent to Italy to work with an eccentric, highly creative, chef, Massimo Bottura. His 3 Michelin starred Osteria Francescana would cast these classically trained chefs out of their rigid comfort zones. In short, the whole hour’s programme would raise one of the fundamental questions regarding creativity: when is novelty just breaching boundaries for shock impact, and when can the truly original, initially shocking, actually enhance things and bring us increased pleasure?
It is a question we face every time we meet an installation such as Damien Hirst’s animals preserved in formaldehyde or Tracey Emin’s soiled bed. But why do we often reject such work? Is it because we don’t like the reality they reflect? Do we envy the artist’s ability to let go and express emotions we are socialised to conceal? Surely there is a more profound reason than aesthetics and the familiar. Is there not immense beauty in the unconventional presentation of the dish above? Even I, a lifelong vegetarian, am moved by the story this meat course tells.
This was an entirely unexpected chain of thought, but it has been haunting me since last night, when I watched one of the final episodes in a programme I really enjoy: Master Chef, The Professionals*.
Now that the final judgement is near, the remaining 3 competitors were sent to Italy to work with an eccentric, highly creative, chef, Massimo Bottura. His 3 Michelin starred Osteria Francescana would cast these classically trained chefs out of their rigid comfort zones. In short, the whole hour’s programme would raise one of the fundamental questions regarding creativity: when is novelty just breaching boundaries for shock impact, and when can the truly original, initially shocking, actually enhance things and bring us increased pleasure?
It is a question we face every time we meet an installation such as Damien Hirst’s animals preserved in formaldehyde or Tracey Emin’s soiled bed. But why do we often reject such work? Is it because we don’t like the reality they reflect? Do we envy the artist’s ability to let go and express emotions we are socialised to conceal? Surely there is a more profound reason than aesthetics and the familiar. Is there not immense beauty in the unconventional presentation of the dish above? Even I, a lifelong vegetarian, am moved by the story this meat course tells.
For telling stories, narratives, is what Bottura does with his food. It is like synaesthesia, every element on the plate evokes a different sensation and draws on a different sense. “Creation is like intuition,” he says, “you catch that flash in the dark.” This is perfectly captured by one of his signature dishes, Spring Green, which reproduces the smells and textures of an early morning stroll through a meadow.
Whilst two of the finalists embrace this freedom to depart from their classical training, Adam, a highly talented but dour Scot, turns red and describes this experience as his worst nightmare. “That mumbo jumbo stuff doesn’t work with me”, and he squirms with discomfort.
The competitors are tasked with creating a dish that tells a story from their lives, or as Bottura puts it “bare their soul”. How will the very repressed Adam deal with this? To his credit, he rises to the challenge and finds a clever way round the exercise: he will use his present feelings as the subject of his dish. Talking to camera he says “I’m going to do an angry dish because I’m so frustrated, and I don’t understand anything about any of this. So I’m going to make an angry one.”
Without realising it yet, Adam has understood perfectly the essence of this style of cuisine. He creates a broken chocolate pyramid with frothy dressing, which at first tastes as we would expect, but gradually becomes more intense. As the image shows, he has mastered the technique and produced a stunning piece of visual as well as culinary art.
Whilst two of the finalists embrace this freedom to depart from their classical training, Adam, a highly talented but dour Scot, turns red and describes this experience as his worst nightmare. “That mumbo jumbo stuff doesn’t work with me”, and he squirms with discomfort.
The competitors are tasked with creating a dish that tells a story from their lives, or as Bottura puts it “bare their soul”. How will the very repressed Adam deal with this? To his credit, he rises to the challenge and finds a clever way round the exercise: he will use his present feelings as the subject of his dish. Talking to camera he says “I’m going to do an angry dish because I’m so frustrated, and I don’t understand anything about any of this. So I’m going to make an angry one.”
Without realising it yet, Adam has understood perfectly the essence of this style of cuisine. He creates a broken chocolate pyramid with frothy dressing, which at first tastes as we would expect, but gradually becomes more intense. As the image shows, he has mastered the technique and produced a stunning piece of visual as well as culinary art.
Adam explains his dish to Bottura: “This is my take on anger and frustration, starting from the top which is really nice and sweet and becoming more fiery as you go down.” Then he makes an astounding admission for someone so private: he uses chocolate as a metaphor because “you have to break into me, and I always put a wall up from my emotions.” A triumphant Bottura replies “In your frustration, you find the way to express yourself. Bravo.”
The message is clear: breaking free of convention and self-imposed boundaries calls for courage, risk taking, openness, in order to be creative. It is not any easy choice. Novelty does not have to evoke negative emotions: shock can be used positively to produce new forms of beauty.
But how does this story relate to my previous discussion of my own creativity? In narrating it, I have had to draw on those very competences that I show I value: my enjoyment of writing but limited imagination for story lines. Here, I was able to use a ready-made subject and apply my analytical skills to its relevance to our investigation into creativity, as I researched the episode on the web before producing this piece. My creativity was satisfied by reviewing the film and extracting illustrations to please the viewer. Like Adam, I guess I could be described as demonstrating incremental creativity.
* See http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00mx9xb
The message is clear: breaking free of convention and self-imposed boundaries calls for courage, risk taking, openness, in order to be creative. It is not any easy choice. Novelty does not have to evoke negative emotions: shock can be used positively to produce new forms of beauty.
But how does this story relate to my previous discussion of my own creativity? In narrating it, I have had to draw on those very competences that I show I value: my enjoyment of writing but limited imagination for story lines. Here, I was able to use a ready-made subject and apply my analytical skills to its relevance to our investigation into creativity, as I researched the episode on the web before producing this piece. My creativity was satisfied by reviewing the film and extracting illustrations to please the viewer. Like Adam, I guess I could be described as demonstrating incremental creativity.
* See http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00mx9xb