“Every child is an artist, the problem is staying an artist when you grow up.”
– Pablo Picasso
Before I got laid off, I worked in the creative marketing department of a company that sold alternative teaching tools to schools. We prided ourselves on being “creative and innovative” and for the most part, the company was (except for the overuse of the phrase “we provide creative and innovative solutions.” I am guilty of doing that, as I was the copywriter for a short while.) Anyway, I absolutely loved working in the creative department. I loved working with a team to produce some really incredible projects, like the full comic book-style calendar, or our company newsletters that (with the occasional debate about appropriateness) were littered with jokes. However, throughout that entire time, I never created anything on my own—for myself. I was always creating within the bounds of what I was prompted to and for the working world it was fine, but for me personally, I was lacking something in my life.
Cut to the lay off, with all the extra free time and my new desire to read, I often found myself swimming through my own imagination. I found myself spending my evenings at a turn-of-the-century mysterious circus, bungee jumping off the Manhattan bridge with my favorite comedian, floating weightlessly through the international space station, and eating the freshest fruits available on the streets in Southern Italy. Because my mind was experiencing all these new sights it needed an outlet and so I began writing more blog entries, taking more pictures, and writing more music.
Music was always a passion of mine and as you know from the previous entry, I even went to school for it for a hot minute. What I didn’t say in the other entry was that when I was in high school, I was incredibly creative. Despite being in 30 different clubs, I still found time everyday to play my piano and write my own music. I still look back on the songs I wrote during that time with pride. But when I went to Berklee, I no longer felt the desire to create. I was totally freaked out by the mass amounts of talent around me, and because of my self-inflicted intimidation of these people, I stopped creating. There was a drought within me—my creativity well was empty.
That loss of creativity really impacted me when my grandfather passed away in 2005. I yearned to write a song that could express how I felt about the loss of him, but that song never came about. I could never find the right words or the right melody to properly honor him, and show my love for him simultaneously. I didn’t want to disappoint my family either, by making something sub-par for this special man. Fast forward to 9 years later, something amazing happened when I read A Monster Calls. I connected to it on such a deep level, and associated the pain of losing my grandfather to the pain of the characters in the book, that I realized I could write a song about the story, and in doing so, I would write a song about my grandfather. Inspired by the literature, I could feel my creativity coming back.
Over the course of the month, I wrote the lyrics and the music, and with the help of my husband’s beautiful arrangement and recording skills, we were able to put it out onto the Internet. You can hear the song here:
We threw it up on Facebook and Twitter and called it a day. And then something amazing happened. The author of the book, Patrick Ness, saw my tweet, listened to my song, and retweeted it! When I got the notification email, I almost screamed for joy inside of a bagel shop. (Sidenote: I was inside of a bagel shop when I got the email, so instead I squealed with my mouth closed and did a dance eerily similar to Eddie Murphy in the SNL “Hot Tub is Too Hot” skit.) I thought “THIS IS THE HEIGHT OF GREATNESS!” and thought it couldn’t get any better than that.
But then something even more beautiful and amazing happened with the song, and it still gives me chills/makes me want to cry.
A few months ago, a friend of our family tragically lost her daughter, and this week she was preparing herself for her daughter’s first birthday since her passing. By fate or coincidence, she found our song posted on my mother-in-laws wall and felt an instant connection to it. In the same way that A Monster Calls connected me to the loss of my grandfather, our song connected to her and the loss of her daughter. She wrote me the most beautiful messages throughout the weekend and she eventually passed the song forward, posting it on a message board for bereaved parents. I can’t even begin to express how I feel knowing that something I created helped her through this difficult time. It’s the same way that I used Ness’ book to help me through my loss and it is a cycle I cannot stop thinking about.
It’s a cycle of healing.
It’s a cycle of love.
And it’s a cycle of creativity.
When I was working my 9-5 job, I forgot how to be creative for myself. I put it all into my job and the results were (in my honest opinion) not as great as I would have liked. But once I started reading, I felt as though I was exercising my brain and bringing life back into something I thought was long gone. I allowed myself to be inspired, and in turn, perhaps I inspired others to create. If not, at least I know that something I did made an impact, and that impact was more important than a company making a profit, or a company getting its name out there. It truly helped someone.
We are a world of artists—we just don’t tap into our own creativity often enough. We allow life to get in the way or our own insecurities to stop us from pursuing what we want, and I think it’s about time that ends.
So if you love to take pictures, take pictures. If you love to draw, draw. Sing? Sing. Write? Put that pen to paper and get to it! Because you just never know what kind of impact the art you create can have on someone else’s life.
– Nina Sclafani