Make Waste

Waste not, want not, right? But in creative endeavors, there is a necessary tossing out of practice runs, attempts gone awry, first drafts and beyond. Artists paint over scenes, writers crumple papers and aim for a wastebasket, even dancers spend hours repeating steps that no one will see.

Art doesn’t just happen. It is messy. It takes time. One must set aside perfection while learning the craft and especially when deciding to call their creation done. Much like getting bogged down in details, pursuing perfection can derail a creative effort.

Imagine all the books, movies, plays, paintings, etc. that would never have come to light if perfection was the only allowed outcome. Sometimes it is the goofs and crooked lines that make a thing approachable, even memorable. Perfection in craft leaves a work with no humanity or heart.

Here, an exception comes to mind, the famous six word story by Hemingway:

“For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

What a “perfect” example of delivering the bare bones, leaving the reader to fill in the gaps. There is no way around the sadness in those words, quickly followed by compassion and understanding.

George Saunders, known for his short stories, offers a “masters” class of Russian authors in A Swim in a Pond in the Rain. The first reading of these 19^th century short stories left me a bit flat, even bored with diversions, descriptions and details. And yet the stories stick with me for their simplistic relating of the human condition. I wondered what the authors may have deleted from early drafts and why they chose some details to remain, as means to move the story, or the reader. Saunders uses the likes of Tolstoy, Chekov, Gogol and others to highlight mistakes that new (inexperienced) writers make (and where my own stories may fall short).

Writing is fun, for those bent toward that means of creative expression. In the world of first drafts, I am a pantser; throwing words on the page as they flow from brain to fingertips. Craft drives the revisions and wisdom shines a beam on “darlings” to be cut and dropped to the editing floor. They are only words, but detritus just the same.

Neat-and-tidy does not jive with creativity. Art, and life, is messy. I am a bit horrified at how much clay goes into the recycle bin as I attempt to throw a pot. Maybe as I get better, the waste will lessen but for now it seems more wet clay sticks to my hands than to the unidentified vessels I attempt to mold as the wheel turns. Are they bowls? Vases? Mugs? Perfection aside, I am wondering to whom I will gift these one-off pieces. I jokingly asked an online friend to send me her address. She was not amused. Neighbors and family members be forewarned, a crooked clay pot may have your name on it.

Week two into the six-week class and I am wondering why I enrolled. I said yes to an opportunity, imagining the beauty I’d create with no thought of the learning and creative process required. For now, I am embracing the Zen of going with the flow, sloppy mess and all. Once a week I don my junk clothes that may have to be trashed at the end of the course, and give in to hours suspended in the slimy, gooey state of wet clay everywhere. As I whisper to the clay what I ask it to do, I put aside a need to make all things wiped clean, just for a moment. I relish the waste I am making all in the name of beauty.

Below is a photo I took of the Beer Can House in Houston. Maybe I love it so much because the builder of this local landmark found a way to use something as worthless as a crushed beer can to bring beauty to his world, his neighborhood, his city.

The Beer Can House, Houston, Texas

Whatever creative endeavor you may be taking on, go ahead, make waste. It is part of the process.

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For those of you following the menacing misfortunes of Mandy Watkins, protagonist of my first novel THE ART COLONY, Friday’s post (chapters 19 - 21) delivers a short-lived windfall until someone cheats her out of a commission. Subscribers to this site receive email notices of new chapters dropped and can access them on the app. Thanks for reading.