Coming out of creative incubation
First gentle steps
The very best steps are gentle ones. Gentle steps are kind to us and the planet we all call home. During the winter months I incubate my creativity in quiet, stretched moments that echo around my mind finding their own new places. It is such an important part of the year as the other three seasons depend entirely on this process. If I incubate well I have gifted myself the opportunity to create using my own authentic creative voice and share that with the world around me. That always seems like an opportunity not to be missed so I always incubate well. I take my time to reflect on the creative work in the previous seasons and what that work has taught me. I also enter into a range of incubation creative projects that help to calm the mind and ground me back inside my own creative voice. I have already shared some of these exercise in recent posts and also embedded them in my notes.
A question I get asked a lot is how do I know when to come out of incubation and, linked to that, how do I come out? The first is easy to answer. I wait until I see my first crocus. I saw that today and there is always something incredibly comforting about that sight that returns every year. The joy of living deep within the seasons is that sense of ‘returning’ and that triggers a feeling of coming home. These sorts of feelings are good for the creative mind and I use nature to guide me towards these experiences. The first crocus always says the same thing. There can not be spring on the way until the crocus begins to appear. On my daily walk I pass a house by the shore that always has spring bulbs planted in their front lawn. It is there that I scan looking for early signs that the crocus is on the way. I am just looking for the first blush of deep purple or golden yellow. This year it was deep purple that showed its hand first….
The second question asking ‘how’ I come out of incubation is more complex. For me, it is slowly and carefully taking forward what I have learnt from my winter creative incubation. I think of it quite simply. As I incubate I am, in fact, sowing the seeds of creative projects for the remainder of the year until winter appears again. Less is most definitely more as it is easy to become overwhelmed and I avoid that at all costs. If my incubation has worked well for me these new projects appear effortlessly into view and I feel a strong sense of belief that this is where I should be heading.
As well as slowly and carefully I also set myself a word for spring to guide me. I do have a word for the entire year and this year that is ‘cleanse’ but I also have a word for each season as I find it helpful to peg my ideas off something. The word for spring 2025 is ‘renew’ and that will become much clearer as I share my spring creative projects. If you are in my paid book arts project this will mean something quite particular. If you are in my Patreon group it will be sprinkled throughout all my creative offerings.
Grandma ‘Ella’ second from the right at the back
Why renew? I have a real passion for the sense or renewal and alongside that a sense of reusing. In a world that is far too obsessed with single and short use I reject that thinking in favour of a commitment to renewing, reusing and recycling. We do not need so much ‘new’ in the world. It is fair to say that renew features heavily in lots of my work on an almost continuous basis but I want spring 2025 to shine the brightest light I can find on this creative approach in the hope that some folk might like to join me. I want to look around me and see what can be renewed and reused and I want to work creatively with these concepts. My late grandmother lived through two world wars and rarely bought anything new. She taught me how to keep a home by reusing and recycling drawing on skills such as make do and mend. I have taken forward her legacy and have been very proud to do so.
So, my early stirrings from my winter creative incubation have already released some old familiar habits looking for fresh ideas. I am really interested in ‘found objects’ and have been collecting pieces of paper that have been discarded for my mixed media work. I have also carefully selected some clothing items that have seen better days and are now rather abandoned to the back of the rail in the island charity store. I have also been gifted an old book with lots of pages missing but capable of a new life. It is a start. It is a slow and deliberate start that I can trace back to some of my winter reflections and incubation projects.
I am deeply committed to my free offerings on Substack so my work will pop up in posts and through my notes. My book arts project members will start with my rescued gifted book and my Patreon group will have access to my entire spring renew journey. Wherever you are, you are very welcome to wander along with me on your own journey to renew.
Fiona x
You might also like -
Welcome to my wee corner of Substack. I am a seasonal artist living on the Isle of Arran, off the west coast of Scotland. I am the custodian of approximately two acres of land that includes a woodland, a meadow and my wee garden. I offer a seasonal book arts project for paid subscribers if you are interested and you can read more about that HERE. Grab a cuppa and lets delve into our relationship with the shifting seasons….
Maybe it's a maximalist approach within my love for the minimalist... But I mix the old and new, knowing there's a kind of infinity within. The act of curation is the part that brings it all together into a place that stops the infinity from being overwhelming.
Like your found objects, I'm fascinated by art within art within art. In one way or another, it seems to shape much of my own art.
As if that infinity has been incubating forever and is waiting for the many moments to arrive. Like the seasons, like the renewal of the crocus, like the new lease of life given to what has already been lived a thousand times. 💚
What a lovely family portrait! They all look so shining and smart. Most of all they are smiling. I wonder now about their life, they certainly seem content. It is good to hear about your grandma and her very useful ways of recycling. I think back to my father's aunt Eva she was the same and didn't need much to get along and feel right with the world. We still have just the snowdrops here in the Castle gardens we visited yesterday, but it is very cold here still.