My Secret Chaos
I think it is a common misconception that all artists thrive in the entropic disorganization of their creativity. I, for one, prefer to keep a confident air of organization. However, my own estimation of my organizational skills is frequently exaggerated. I allow myself to take on more and more projects until the sheer idea of the things I need to accomplish is staggering.
That is when I take a deep breath, and send myself into overdrive.
Spirals; courtesy mcescher.com
As organized as I am, I literally thrive under pressure. My work gets better, more focused. Every second counts for something and I know I can’t mess up because that is time wasted. In my entire school career, I only wrote one paper more than 24 hours before it was due. You would never know it, most of my teachers didn’t. The ones who did were impressed.
Between work, my own blog, Save the Artist, our horse costume, a doublet for a friend, a costume for my boss’s daughter (which must be finished by Thursday night and isn’t even started), the odd catering jobs here and there, house work, random errands, and interesting dinners every night, I wonder how I find time to simply chill with my husband and watch the massive amounts of TV that I am addicted to. Organization, at first glance, does not seem to be my strong suit. Yet, I have never missed an important deadline. Sure, those arbitrary, intermediate “check points” get fuzzy in the scheme of things, but my work is always completed impeccably by that ultimate deadline.
This order–or disorder–to my work is something I have come to know and love about the things I do. It is part of my personal organization. I keep my kitchen and sewing room in a neat and tidy state so that when my whirlwind begins, it is efficient.
You have to learn and accept your personal balance of order and chaos. If slow and steady wins your race, do that. If marathon all-nighters produce your personal best results, go with it. Let your creativity flow in its natural course: don’t fight it, don’t try to control it.
