Hyperactive Brain

No, it’s not insomnia. It’s not ADHD or whatever. One of the things my genealogy has taught me is that it’s inherent amongst particular family members….mainly those of us who have predominantly physical features of our Nichols line. Not only do our brains just don’t shut off , but there are seven thoughts (at least) running at one time. Sometimes a sentence or two and then the next subject and the next and then the next back to the second thought bounce over to the sixth thought and start all over again then write the stuff down so you can get it out of your head because it’s a good thought and you don’t want to lose it and this makes room for new thoughts. It makes sleeping not so easy. Sleeping pills don’t help because there you are stuck in all those oh so vivid dreams but too dang drugged to write the stuff down. We tend to be overly creative artistically speaking and for me, it’s not limited to one medium. Mine might be one thought clay then the next might be glass and then the next some metal sculpture and then the next paper or paint or fabric or basketry or a poem or cooking or genealogy or wood or polymer clay or paint or why something is the way it is or an epiphany. Sometimes the only way to describe it is etc, etc, etc, etc….and some more etc. Don’t get me wrong…most times I enjoy all this activity but it becomes exhausting.

Another thing that’s a scream is that those of us who have it, there is a special closeness or bond if you will…a sort of knowing. We can just barely describe something and the other person can totally visualize what we are saying and run with it…come back with 10 ways to do what we are describing and then the first person thinking of 10 ways to do the 10 ways. If on occasion we happen to be visiting each other for the night (heaven forbid a week….we become zombies), all this process becomes more rapid, vivid and unbelievably creative. If anyone listened in on our conversations, they couldn’t keep up with the lightening fast way we jump from one subject to the next…all the while being so easy for us to keep up with each other. It gets really bad when we get interrupted in the middle of interrupting the other person. One will find notebooks and notebooks and stacks of papers and files of all our writings and drawings.

We tend to be overly critical in our own artwork. We might come across as nitpicking but for us, it's only our own creations we're critical of. We see all the mistakes or the ways we would do it again if we were to make another. Helpful is to make about 10 things of each idea and let the process evolve. Series of creations are a good thing.

There are some things that will still the beast. Music for one running in the background helps….sometimes it has to be just a soft easy melody but sometimes it has to be fast and loud. Actually working on a project helps. Some describe it as ‘being in the zone’ and perhaps it is. I can put a two inch ball of clay in my hands and start pinching a pot and I’m gone. The whole world is gone and I’m at peace.

One revelation each of us has made is when we realize other people aren’t like us. From birth, it just comes so naturally that it never occurs to us that other people don’t have their brains directly in line with their hands. It never occurs to us to go buy an object…the first thought is how to make it. Making something is so much more satisfying. We don’t think of an object but rather the raw materials. We see some discarded piece of junk and instantly see it as useful. She/he who dies with the most art/craft/creative crap wins. Occasionally we will trade some of our treasures with the other but most likely not. Of course, when we see something particularly interesting that we think the other person might like, we scarf it up for them. Who in the world would want some pre-made gift when we can be given a bucket of clay or a particular piece of wood given to us? One of the nicest gifts given to me once was waking up one morning to a bucket of chickenshit on my front step. My brother Oren had been passing through and didn’t want to wake me so there’s this white plastic bucket with only the word ‘chickenshit’ on the lid. This material made some raku firings of some pots amazing! What a wonderful gift! Another time was a bucket of Arkansas clay….that made the nicest metallic brown glaze imaginable. My cousin Earl regularly gives me his scraps of fabric. Oren brings me these printer mats that are awesome for a work surface for clay. My daughter Rodina gave me all her polymer clay that she had lost interest in for my birthday a couple of years ago….I don’t think I ever want a ‘new’ present again. Being given something another person started an interest in and no longer intrigues them, recycled as a gift is of course only logical. It’s not some left over crap but rather some treasures for a springboard of an idea.

I woke up at 4:22 am to get some of my thoughts written down and out of my head this morning. And so it goes. We are the lucky ones.