The Uncreative Artist

A recent art school graduate, Jason, was intensely frustrated with life after college, which seemed to lack meaning. Employed by a web agency, he used most of his creative energy doing graphic design for corporate clients during the day, rendering charcoal sketches inspired by H.R. Giger in his free time.

"I don't get it," he complained. "This is what I always wanted to do, but I feel aimless and I'm bored to death! Even my personal artwork is tiresome to me, all of these black and grey aliens and tentacles… I wish I was inspired to try something different!"

I asked whether he'd tried a different medium — collage, maybe — or keeping a dream journal. He hadn't; he didn't even remember his dreams. I asked his favorite outdoor activity. Canoeing, he said — "it's just so peaceful."

Taking that as my cue, I led him through a brief induction and guided him verbally on a canoe trip down a river. "You can just let the river take you, or you can paddle in any direction you want. If you get tired, it's very easy to pull over to the bank and anything you need is right there, waiting for you. This is your river and you have permission to explore it at your own pace." He sank into an inner world. Afterward he didn't remember what we discussed — which is fine; it means the subconscious accepted the suggestions on a deep level.

The next day he called, having burst into tears in the shower remembering a vivid dream: canoeing down a river holding a fluorescent orange ball he knew was important; he hit white water, got washed out, lost the ball; struggling to shore he found me already there waiting; I pulled him out, handed him the orange ball, and told him it was his to keep and he'd never lose it again. Driving to work he saw an identical orange ball — a Dunkin' Donuts promo — by the roadside, and grabbed it. It was in his pocket as he spoke.

He'd been thinking about quitting his job, moving to Venice Beach, and freelancing so he could surf during the day. A month later he called from his new Venice Beach apartment: freelance business taking off, happier than he'd been in a long time. He'd begun experimenting with color in his sketches — branching out from monochrome aliens to watercolors of tourists on the boardwalk.