In my Curiosity Files I’m exploring the art and science of creative living through more in depth investigations. They’re a longer read (or listen), so maybe set aside some time, find yourself a cosy nook, make yourself a warm cuppa and settle in.
At the moment, my own creative life feels full of questions. I’m toying with the idea of a short anthropology course later in the year (I have an academic itch I’d quite like to scratch and this one caught my eye). I’m also working behind the scenes on two ideas around creative support: one to build a collaborative community for myself, and another for matching people with the kind of support they might be looking for. And with three weeks until we head off to see family, I’m noticing something that’s been happening for a while: the ongoing tension between using my own experiences to illustrate ideas (they’re easier pieces to write and there are plenty of them) and holding myself to the harder, slower work of looking at creativity through a wider lens. I want these essays to be grounded in more than my personal experience, even when using my own anecdotes would be the simpler route.
My aim remains the same: to understand creative life from many perspectives. I’m so glad you’re here because you can help me by sharing yours. As you read, please do comment with whatever thoughts or questions arise — instinctive or reflective, polished or messy. This is shared enquiry and is all the richer with your contributions.
If you prefer to listen just press play, otherwise read-on below.
Having spotted a personal need to both feel more supported creatively and to guide the people I meet towards resources they might need as their creativity evolves, this time, I wanted to look more closely at creative support through the lives of people I’ve met. What is support in relation to our creative lives? What does it look like? Why do we need support for our creativity?
I touched on these questions when I explored which six pillars help us build a creative life. This time I want to look at support in more detail.
‘Together we can make a sound that we can’t make on our own.’ Xenia Davis
When we think of Support
I’ve been going through all the brilliant insights and nuggets of wisdom I’ve gathered from my podcast conversations, and have spotted some great examples where support has made all the difference.
Sometimes like for Caroline Pearce and Andrew Szczech it’s about going back to study and walking through the door on wobbly legs, checking for the exits on the first day, just in case… soon to be rushing into the classroom the next week, pen at the ready, ‘around other people who wanted to learn.’
Sometimes it’s when someone nudges you and says ‘This is great. I want you to do an exhibition.’ At first, when her friend who runs a gallery saw her work and spoke these words, Rebecca Lacey hid behind her armchair, ‘literally shrinking’. Rebecca has played to packed theatres throughout her professional acting career but the idea of standing in front of everyone at her own exhibition had her saying, ‘ No, no, I cant do that!’ And yet, despite ‘feeling like a frightened rabbit the whole evening’ she turned half her paintings into ones with sold stickers on them.
Or it can be joining a group. Community choir leader Xenia Davis starts her sessions with tricky tongue twisters or silly singing number games which often end up with everyone laughing at the muddle they’ve made. Their shoulders drop, their smiles beam back at her. She says ‘that didn’t go quite right. But that’s okay, we’re not at the Proms.’ and by the end of practice everyone senses that as Xenia says , ‘Together we can make a sound that we can’t make on our own.’
At the moment of switching
Then, in gathering these examples I noticed another recurring theme. When each guest answered the question, ‘Do you remember when you connected with your creativity, or when your creative identity emerged?’ in those moments, almost every time, something else was going on.
Often someone was there. Not always in a formal role. Not always offering advice. Sometimes it was a teacher, a friend, a parent, a group, or a passing comment that landed at just the right time. Sometimes it was simply the feeling of not being alone at the point where they were trying something new.
Looking back, it’s striking how often support appears right at that threshold, at the very moment when someone is deciding whether to step forward or retreat. Before confidence. Before certainty. When people still feel tentative and vulnerable.
It makes me wonder whether support isn’t only about sustaining creativity once it’s underway, but about helping us cross that initial line. So does that mean it has two roles: to sustain us and also as a catalyst at the point of switching?
If you’ve been listening to The Creative Switch podcast or reading The Bold Types, you’ll recognise the question I keep returning to: why do some people seem to connect to their creative selves naturally, early on, while others don’t, until later in their lives?
The early-life dimension
From an early age Juliette Crosbie, Rebecca Lacey and Holly Matthews knew they wanted to perform and all pursued professional creative careers. When I met best-selling murder mystery writer Sophie Hannah she told me she just knew she would become a published author. She described an inner confidence, an inner-knowing, that telling stories was what she wanted to spend her time doing.
Many people who make a living from their creativity have this early connection. They were writing stories almost before they knew their alphabet and they were putting on performances on pretend stages for their parents, with skipping ropes as microphones. They were already living and breathing their creativity, inhabiting imaginary worlds and finding their voices through creative play.
And when we dig deeper what’s common amongst them, for Juliette, for Holly, is the way they were surrounded by creativity. Where home or community was a place to try new things. Where the people who believed in them, didn’t just say, ‘Oh you’re really great at that’, but created an almost unspoken atmosphere which meant it was okay to explore who they were and express themselves creatively. No pressure but encouragement to pursue their passions, to be curious and see where that might take them.
What gets in the way?
So for those of us who come to our creativity later what is stopping us? What is getting in the way? Sometimes, even when support is already there, from our families and friends, we don’t act on it. We might know where to find a painting course or a writing mentor or a choir to join. We might bookmark the website, make a note on our to-do list. We tell ourselves we’ll look into it properly soon, but we just don’t take the next step. We’ve been inspired, we want to make contact, but the email stays in draft form, the moment passes.
Even when support is available, even when the opportunity is there, we don’t make the most of it.
Beneath the surface
When you’re in the right place, with the right atmosphere, in the right environment, with the right people around you, then you have external support. Juliette and Holly were allowed to ‘Go be yourself. Go express yourself creatively.’
Then there are other situations where people don’t have those things but despite a raised eyebrow here, or a pointed comment there, reminding them of the expected path they ‘should’ be taking, they will still follow their calling.
For soprano Nadine Benjamin her moment came later in her thirties, when her efforts to switch from her city career to Opera were met with all kinds of barriers.
‘Go sing jazz.’
Every ‘No’ made her more certain that she was on the right path. She felt a thunder rise inside her and allowed herself to keep going regardless, knowing she would find a way to make it happen.
And for actor Martin Spendlove his pivotal moment came when he asked himself after 20 years of excelling in the Learning and Development space, ‘Are you really doing what you’re meant to be doing?’ When the answer was, ‘No, you’re meant to be an actor.’ Then, the penny dropped and he allowed himself for the first time to turn what had been his hobby, his creative passion, into his number one priority and a professional career.
So what’s really going on here beneath the surface of support?
Thumbs up for permission
Support has shown up time and time again in these stories as an essential ingredient for creative flourishing. It can give us perspective, validation, encouragement, accountability and belonging but, to accept support and move forward it looks like permission, whether that’s from ourselves or from others, is the key to turning that support into action.
As a final thought, I’m still pondering that unanswered question, why do some people act if they have that permission and others don’t?
Is it something you’re wondering too?
Looks like we have more exploring to do. Pop your ideas and thoughts in the comments and let’s keep learning together.
As a kid I did not feel creative because I was not good at realistic drawing. I got a C in art in 9th grade. But I wrote all kinds of stories until I was about 15 when friends and boys took over. Fast forward 30 years and it was not until I went through a major life difficulty that connected me with others. I claimed the title of Creative. I was encouraged as a child and looking back I did so many creative things but never called it that.