From being a creative person to having a creative career
The ability to imagine yourself in a creative job is central to taking the first steps towards it, says Louise Benson. Without role models, pursuing a career in the arts can feel like an impossibility.
I grew up in a clutter-free home. Household items were routinely reassessed and empty shelves swept clean. “Do you really need it?” my mother would ask, weighing an object heavily in one hand. More than once, I discovered that she had wordlessly carted things off to the charity shop. This is a woman, I might add, who threw away her own wedding photographs because they were taking up space. Everything was kept neat and tidy, but our home lacked the creativity that often comes with objects which have no discernible place or function.
As I began to visit friends’ homes more frequently as a teenager, I couldn’t help but feel jealous of their busier surroundings. Perhaps it was a coincidence, but I seemed to gravitate towards friends who came from creative backgrounds; they had parents who were artists, photographers, musicians and academics. Unsurprisingly, their houses were stuffed with books, records, trinkets, artwork and sentimental keepsakes. In one friend’s bedroom, we were allowed to draw directly onto the walls, an act of sacrilege so great that I felt giddier and more transgressive in the act than the first time I took ecstasy...Keep reading on Elephant Magazine
I grew up in a clutter-free home. Household items were routinely reassessed and empty shelves swept clean. “Do you really need it?” my mother would ask, weighing an object heavily in one hand. More than once, I discovered that she had wordlessly carted things off to the charity shop. This is a woman, I might add, who threw away her own wedding photographs because they were taking up space. Everything was kept neat and tidy, but our home lacked the creativity that often comes with objects which have no discernible place or function.
As I began to visit friends’ homes more frequently as a teenager, I couldn’t help but feel jealous of their busier surroundings. Perhaps it was a coincidence, but I seemed to gravitate towards friends who came from creative backgrounds; they had parents who were artists, photographers, musicians and academics. Unsurprisingly, their houses were stuffed with books, records, trinkets, artwork and sentimental keepsakes. In one friend’s bedroom, we were allowed to draw directly onto the walls, an act of sacrilege so great that I felt giddier and more transgressive in the act than the first time I took ecstasy... Keep reading on Elephant Magazine