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ccorinnef · 6 years

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How Do I Find Inspiration To Create?

Inspiration seems to be a tricky and elusive thing. For so many of us it can be flighty and inconsistent, kind of like sunshine in Scotland. I think many people view inspiration as a mad frenzy of activity and creativity from which amazing things are born. And sometimes it can be this way; sometimes I get the urge to create something right at that moment - I just have to get it out of my head into a physical form. Those bursts of creativity, though, are more about the activity than the product, they often stem from a restlessness in my soul.

More often than not, though, inspiration, to me at least, is more of a gentle nudge - a tiny glowing ember in the back of my mind. I’ll get an idea for something and note it down immediately in case I forget, but, usually the ideas sit at the back of my mind, on the edge of my consciousness for days, weeks and months before they come to fruition. I like to ponder over ideas, flip them upside down, think about the process and the outcome, incorporate other ideas, and think about mediums and messages.

As defined by Oxford Dictionaries, inspiration is, “The process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative.” Historically, in Greek, Latin and Norse cultures, inspiration was seen as a gift from the gods. The inspired person would be given access to the thoughts of the divine and would no longer be in control of their (the artists’ or poets’) creation. These episodes of inspiration were seen as a frenzy or ‘ecstasy.’ French Renaissance poets also ascribed their inspiration to the divine. Pontus de Tyard described four different categories of heavenly inspiration: “(1) poetic fury, gift of the Muses; (2) knowledge of religious mysteries, through Bacchus; (3) prophecy and divination through Apollo; (4) inspiration brought on by Venus/Eros.”

It wasn’t until the 1700's that inspiration was separated from the divine and located within the mind. John Locke suggested that although entirely random, inspiration was a “natural association of ideas and sudden unison of thought.” While Edward Young described inspiration as “the god within,” Ralph Waldo Emerson and Percy Bysshe Shelley viewed it as “madness and irrationality.” Sigmund Freud decided that inspiration came from within the psyche as a result of psychological conflict, a more scientific way of saying ‘mad frenzy.’ In response to Freud’s analysis artists of the Surrealist movement attempted to tap into the unconscious; they used dream diaries, automatic writing, Ouija boards and poetry. Carl Gustav Jung suggested that artists are “attuned to something impersonal, something outside of the individual experience.”

In their study, ‘Imitation, Inspiration, and Creation: Cognitive Process of Creative Drawing by Copying Others’ Artworks,’ Takeshi Okada and Kentaro Ishibashi sought to understand the “cognitive processes underlying creative inspiration.” They found that participants were inspired to produce new and unique artwork having studied another unfamiliar artists’ work. Okada and Ishibashi suggest that exposure to unfamiliar artwork relaxes ‘cognitive constraints’ and inspires new perspectives.

Another study by Todd M Thrash and Andrew J Elliot found, among other things, that inspiration is uncontrollable, subjective, and linked to ”psychological resources, including self-efficacy, self-esteem and optimism.” People who have more instances of feeling inspired also feel they are more creative. They found that those who are open-minded about feeling inspired were more likely to experience inspiration. “Mastery of work, absorption, creativity, perceived competence, self-esteem, and optimism were all consequences of inspiration, suggesting that inspiration facilitates flow, creativity, and important psychological resources.”

Inspiration is clearly a significant component to creativity; “Inspiration transforms a person from experiencing a culture of apathy to experiencing a world of possibility.” My main source of inspiration has always been nature, in particular, Scottish landscape. I grew up on the North coast of Scotland where there wasn’t much to do except enjoy the scenery – the connection between the people and the land/sea is so ingrained in Northern Scottish culture it is impossible not to love it. You might have noticed that most of my acrylic paintings are skyscapes and seascapes; these are all based on real references from Scotland, the colours and shapes in the sky have always fascinated me. I am in constant awe of this planet that we call home. The more that is discovered through science about planet earth, the more in awe I seem to get. If you think about the massively wide diversity of life that grows here, in plants, animals, land, water and air, it’s hard not to be inspired.

I feel such affinity for this planet; when I think about all the damage humans have done to the environment I feel physical pain and sadness as though I were feeling the miners digging into my own being and the gas clogging my own air. My focus on natural untouched landscapes, mostly of the Scottish highlands, is driven partly through extreme admiration for those places, and partly through the hope that by focusing on these wild spaces I can raise awareness of global warming, climate change and environmental disaster. I gravitate towards natural inspirations because I hope that people will see by work and be struck by the desire to preserve and protect wild natural spaces and animals.

I am also inspired by other artists, everyday life and culture. One of my absolute favourite paintings is William McTaggart’s ‘And All The Choral Waters Sang.’ At the time, he was criticised for painting so loosely that parts of the blank canvas could be seen but I love how bold he was with this painting. I have been to visit it many times in Dundee’s McManus Gallery and every time I see it I’m struck with how real it seems. The waves come alive, I can hear the gulls cry and feel the wind lash my face with salty spray. I will always aspire to paint such a powerful painting as McTaggart did with this one.

Another of my favourite inspirational artists is Frida Kahlo. Her paintings are so raw and her use of symbolism shows the viewer exactly what she’s feeling. Her work was pure expression and feeling and it is glorious. I can’t help but be moved whenever I see her work.

Some current artists that inspire me include Frances Cannon, Derek Myers, Holly Exley, Minnie Small, Owen Hope, Elly Smallwood, Henrik Aa Uldalen, Alistair Horne, Krystle Wright, Irina Cumberland, Shawn Coss, Katie Jobling, Sarah Caudle, Anna Llorens, Marianne Lock and so many many many more.

It’s not always easy to find inspiration; some days are just completely blank. I keep a list of ideas of things I want to practice or things I want to draw for those days when I’m not following a particular idea. Always pay attention to your senses when you are out and about, you never know what can strike inspiration. As director Ian Rickson once said, “Inspiration can come at any time, even after it feels like you haven’t been getting anywhere. Keep your stamina up, don’t force too hard, and trust that you will find your way.”

#art #artist #inspiration #creative #findingart #find #inspire #creativity

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jordanparrishound · 6 years

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A Pointless Meeting

Who: @jordanparrishound and @itsericareyes

Where: Beacon Hills Library

Rated: PG-13 for adult insinuations

What: I was finding things to do in the 12 hour car trip and wrote Jordan and Erica talking to each other at the library. They end up making a deal to make up with their parents, though... so that’s a thing. Mostly they talk about their boyfriends so -shrug emoji-

With the power back on, it was imperative that Jordan make sure the library was okay. He’d left it in such a state of disarray that it wouldn’t sit right with him until he checked up on it and the man at the helm. He opened the front doors, glad to see that the barricade had been taken care of for the most part, but as soon as he stepped into the main part of the building, he was shocked to see some of the shelves out of place. Upon inspection he found that someone had painted some complicated symbols he didn’t understand. He didn’t know what they meant, but when Jordan went to touch one, he found the closer he got, the more his hand felt like it was in a vice grip, stinging like a thousand needles came at him from every direction. He pulled his hand back, confused, but he stayed away from all the bookshelves after that.

“Alistair?” he called out, looking out over toward the balcony. Perhaps his fiancé was putting away and reshelving books? He heard footsteps echoing across the library, but they were too light and close together to belong to Alistair and it wasn’t until the bright blonde mop of hair rounded the corner that he realized Alistair might not be in the library at all. He struggled to remember the girl’s name. She was Derek’s something-or-other. Erica! That was it.

She had a smile on her face until she recognized Jordan and then it fell. “Nope. Just me. Your boyfriend’s off somewhere having an adventure without you. It’s just me.”

“Don’t sound so happy to see me,” Jordan retorted, going to cross the room to meet her. Suddenly her hands went up and her eyes widened in panic.

“Stop!” she called out. “Go around the rug.”

Confused, Jordan stopped and nudged at the corner with his foot. The same paint he saw on the bookshelves was on the floor and he stepped away from the rug quickly. “What are these symbols?” he asked.

Erica shrugged. “Something Alistair said might work against the Horsement. There’s Devil’s traps under the rugs. Anything Celestial would get trapped there. Or anything evil? I don’t know. I forgot. But I don’t want you ruining it.”

Remembering how much it hurt to get close to the symbol on the bookshelf, Jordan decided it was a good thing to avoid anything that looked like it had paint on it. The hound recoiled just as Jordan had and he got the same feeling he did whenever he wore the graveyard roots on his wrists and he got the feeling that maybe some of the symbols would work on him. The last thing he wanted to do was get himself stuck in a trap and having to shamefully wait until someone rescued him. “Thanks for the heads up,” he said, instead.

With a nod, Erica hopped up on a table and crossed her legs. “You gonna stick around or…? Because I’ve been shelving stuff and if you’re not going to make yourself useful, you can go away.”

Jordan shook his head. “I don’t know the first thing about shelving books and I get the feeling that maybe some of these symbols aren’t very friendly to hellhounds.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal with that anyway? Like, what’s a hellhound?”

Jordan was used to this question by now and answered easily. “Hellhounds are fiery dogs that guard both the supernatural world and the gates to the underworld. Their powers center around fire and they’re harbingers of death.”

“Uh… so has anyone told you fire and wood and books don’t mix?” she asked, raising her eyebrows slightly in a way that insinuated she knew exactly how it made her look and she did it often for attention.

“I won’t hurt the library,” he said immediately. It was the first time he was so openly sure of his abilities. For so long he worried about burning everyone and everything around him, but as he learned more about how his powers worked, those worries dissipated.

He didn’t know what else to say and contemplated just leaving anyway and try to find Alistair elsewhere. The library looked like it was in good hands, although Jordan hadn’t been aware that Erica had so much responsibility there. She looked so young, but if Alistair trusted her, Jordan would too. He was just about to say his goodbyes and leave when Erica suddenly spoke up.

“So did you really give Derek a hand job?” she asked coyly, clucking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

Jordan groaned. He really didn’t want to have to deal with that again and he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why would I lie about something like that, and in front of my fiancé no less?”

She shrugged. “No reason. I was just wondering because I mean… it took me like forever to get him to do me and you just waltzed up and gave him a handjob like it was nothing.”

“We were friends for a while,” Jordan said carefully. “He was in pain and I thought… you know what, I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

“Aw, come onnnn,” she whined, sticking her bottom lip out like that would work on him.

“I’m not here to talk about my private life with you.”

“Stop being so uptight, Officer Parrish,” she said his last name with force, mocking him more than anything. “I like Derek and I want to make sure you weren’t one of the people that scarred him, that’s all. Besides, I’m also invested in Alistair’s happiness so if you screwed over Derek, chances are, you’ll screw over Alistair and I am not about that life. You make that man cry and I will end you.”

Jordan didn’t want to laugh at her when she was being so serious but he couldn’t help it. She looked younger than Talia and certainly wasn’t as strong. He didn’t have anything to fear from Erica. How was she going to take him? He wasn’t one to brag, though, so he kept quiet on that matter and instead focused on her beef with him. “I haven’t done anything to you, Erica. By all accounts, we should be friends, not picking on each other. I love Alistair, more than I’ve loved anyone or anything. I had no idea I could feel this strongly about someone, but it’s there and it’s real. I’m not going to hurt him. Not intentionally, at least.” He’d seen Alistair when he cried and although both times had been because of his past, Jordan didn’t like seeing him upset and would do anything in his power to keep that smile on his face.

“Wow. So cheesy,” Erica snickered. “I don’t know, you’re just so… so boring.” She flipped her hand about in the air to exaggerate her statement and then stuck her finger in her open mouth, pretending to gag. “I bet whenever you’re with Alistair everything around you dies out of boredom. Do you talk like this to each other? Thank god Derek doesn’t talk much at all. I couldn’t handle him saying that shit to me.” She puffed out her chest. “He’s all ‘You were beautiful before the bite’ and ‘Don’t leave me’ and ‘My name is Derek.’” When she quoted him, she dropped her voice an octave and stuck her lips out to make herself look more masculine.

She looked and sounded so ridiculous Jordan couldn’t help but smile to herself. At least she was animated, which he couldn’t say for many of the people in the town. “There’s a certain quality to quietness that I admire. Alistair is the same at times.”

“Yeah… he is,” Erica surprisingly agreed. “He worries me sometimes because he looks like he’s thinking so hard or that he’s putting too much on his shoulders. I kinda want to get him high so he’ll let go for two seconds and oops—am I supposed to be talking about that to a cop? It’s medicinal. I swear.”

“Probably not,” Jordan said, raising an eyebrow. “But I know about Talia and it’s California so I can let it slide.

“Oh yeah, speaking of Talia, have you seen her lately? She like, up and disappeared on me. We were hanging out and just kinda shooting the shit you know, and then bam, haven’t heard from her.”

“She’s probably in mourning. She was looking out for Lydia’s mother and… you know.” It was easier not to say it and it wasn’t like Jordan was trying to state the details of a case so he could be a little more discreet.

“Oh,” Erica said thoughtfully. It was her turn to fall silent and Jordan could see the cogs turning in her head. He didn’t know how much Erica knew about Talia and Lydia but everyone seemed to be connected here, so he could only assume she knew a fair amount. When she spoke again, her voice was really quiet. “I’ve been thinking about seeing my own parents again.”

Jordan gave her a double-take. He hadn’t been expecting that. He knew she’d died and came back. It was obvious, especially the way the hound uncurled around her. After the fiasco with Lydia, though, the hound didn’t rear his head at the walking dead anymore. “Were you estranged from them?”

“I kind of ran away and died, Parrish, it’s not like it’s a secret or anything anymore. Enough people know. It’s why I work here, because it’s hard to explain I’m not going to abandon a job to anyone who knows me from the missing posters,” she sighed and uncrossed her legs, letting them swing under the table. “I don’t know if my parents know I’m back. I don’t know if they think I’m dead or not. I was buried on the Hale property and not in some cemetery or cremated or anything. I don’t even know if I had a real funeral other than maybe Derek crying at my grave or something.” She’d never seen Derek cry before and it wasn’t fair to say that of him, but the damage had been done. “But after Lydia lost her mom, I’ve been thinking about going back to mine and making up with them. They probably miss me.”

“I know what you mean,” Jordan said carefully. “I lost my father while I was fighting overseas and when I came back, I came straight here instead of going home to my mother. She doesn’t know if I’m dead or alive, either.”

“Huh,” Erica clicked her tongue again. “Who knew we were so similar. How about this: if I go see my parents, you have to go see your mom. Deal?”

Jordan thought about it a moment. He was afraid of what his mother would say if she found out he’d spent several years purposely not saying anything to her, but he was more worried about what his mother would say when he brought home a man. He’d never mentioned to her that he was into men at all, and the few girlfriends he had growing up had only been temporary. Jordan knew Alistair would be calm and not overly affectionate when around her. After all, they were both on the same page when they first met, making the unanimous decision to keep their relationship a secret for a while for fear of backlash. Jordan wasn’t ready to go through that again, but he knew it was for the best.

“Deal.”

“Good!” Erica held her hand out with her pink pointed upwards. “We have to swear it or it doesn’t count.”

Jordan rolled his eyes. It was such a childish thing to do, but she insisted and so he found himself wrapping his pinky with hers and shaking on it. Erica seemed satisfied with the development and began swinging her legs under the table again. After their pink promise, Jordan pointed toward the door. “I should probably get going. If Alistair comes back, let him know I was looking for him, okay?”

“I’m not your messenger,” Erica said, blowing some air out of her mouth and hopping down from the table. “But yeah, sure, whatever. Thanks for the break, but I’ve got to get back to sorting. You can go back to arresting people for sneezing too loudly or whatever it is you do.”

“Hah,” Jordan deadpanned and finally turned to leave, giving her a short wave of his hand on his way out. “Be good to Derek, Erica. He’s been through a lot.”

Just as he was leaving through the large glass doors, he could just make out a loud, “Oh my god, I know. Shut up!”

#jordanparrishound #itsericareyes #self para

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fluffleforce-mysdrym · 7 years

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"unbind me" for Kaitrith x Josephine

This probably doesn’t fall quite in line with this prompt, but I felt like it fit close enough, so here it is! The last piece of Kaitrith Disapproves. Thank you so much for the prompt

Thank you so much to everyone who’s followed this story! I’ll happily write drabbles and fluff and whatnot for these two still, but this is the end of their official story.

Word Count: 1380

Kaitrith Disapproves

A Happy Disentanglement If Not An Ending

Kaitrith stood on her balcony facing the north, making sureshe wasn’t watching as Keeper Deshanna rode away. While the direction would beobvious for some time, Kaitrith didn’t want to compromise the situation anymore than she already had.

Fen’harel’s threat had not been empty.

She wasn’t sure what he’d done exactly, but while eatingdinner with Josephine, suddenly all of the voices had fallen silent, save forone.

Come.

The next thing she’d known, she’d been standing in front ofMorrigan’s eluvian as a strange light burst from it. She barely rememberedtelling someone near her to keep it safe before all of the voices came back,crying and mourning and making it impossible to focus on anything.

When she’d woken up, Josephine had been with her. The lightwas guarded, the eluvian broken—by Kaitrith apparently, though she couldn’tremember doing so—and Mythal was…

Gone was not the right word, but something had happened, andall that served her could feel it.

More than that, all that served her knew it was the work of theDread Wolf, though how Kaitrith knew was beyond her.

He’d come to her in her dreams again, watching, waiting formemories to stir, sometimes even calling them.

Whatever had happened betwixt the gods, Mythal had sent whathe wanted to Kaitrith, but he could use Mythal’s connections now, and it wasonly a matter of time before Kaitrith’s stubbornness gave way.

That was why she’d sent for Keeper Deshanna. Someone neededto protect Mythal’s gift. Someone Kaitrith knew could be trusted, and someonethe Dread Wolf didn’t know.

She doubted clan Lavellan would be able to keep the lightthemselves. They would be too obvious a target. But they would pass it toanother clan, one Kaitrith wasn’t familiar with. Perhaps the clans would keeppassing it, keep it moving until the Dread Wolf grew too tired of chasing it.

The light’s appearance had told Kaitrith two things. One,she understood her ‘bindings’ to Mythal even less than she’d thought, and two,she should never have crossed the Dread Wolf.

How she could have avoided that, however, was hard to say.If she hadn’t gone to the Conclave, she’d have never met Josephine. Despiteeverything, the death, the dealings with idiots, the demons, the pain, it hadbeen worth it because it had led her to where she was meant to be.

There was a war raging, something that had been going on farlonger than she could comprehend and something that would likely be going onwell after she’d died.

However, it was hard to accept, but that war wasn’t hers.She might be tied to it, bound to Mythal as she was, but for now, the best shecould do for her side was extricate herself from it. If she knew nothing ofwhere or who the key pieces were, then Fen’harel would have to work all theharder.

That worked well enough for her.

She’d never been interested in being a hero.

When she was younger, she’d protected her clan because thatwas all she was good for and because that way she still got to work with them—bewith them. Then after the Conclave, she’d been the Inquisitor because, again, itwas what she was good for.

She’d played her role because it was something she had todo.

Now, however, her role was to not be involved, and she wasoddly relieved for it.

She heard the door open and close behind her and turned tosee Josephine slipping into the room. The woman looked worn, but happy,stepping out onto the balcony and looking up at the stars.

“I take it everything on your end is done?”

“Almost,” Josephine sighed, moving closer to lean her armagainst Kaitrith’s. “The Grey Wardens will be taking control of Skyhold. I amnot certain that is wise, considering their previous dealings, but it will keepboth Ferelden and Orlais from arguing over who received so strategic a fort.” Shehesitated. “There may still be scuffles, but we will have done all we could.”

Kaitrith nodded slowly. There had been a group of Fereldenwardens who had rebelled against Clarel before Alistair. They had beenprotected by the crown, of all things, and Clarel had turned a blind eye asfighting with Ferelden when she wanted to start an army in Orlais would havebeen detrimental to her goals, allowing them to stay in Denerim whilst she andthe others went to Adamant.

Alistair had left Denerim, hence the hunt for him.

“When will it be official?”

“Whenever Warden Velanna gets here to sign the papers.”

Kaitrith nodded, mostly to herself. Of the wardens who hadbeen in Denerim, Velanna was supposedly Dalish, and Kaitrith liked the idea ofturning over an ancient elven castle to another Dalish, even if she wasaccepting it on behalf of the Wardens.

She’d given Keeper Deshanna copies of the lore she’d managedto jot down—she’d recruited quite a few people to make multiple copies, and Josephinehad teased that she was becoming more of a scholar every day.

The voices did not come to her as easily as they once had.She suspected Fen’harel was behind that. As much as she wanted to beat him withsomething, she still felt like, all things considered, she’d done well.

Kaitrith had never imagined she would be much of anythingmore than an annoyance to her clan, a member who caused eye rolls and frownsthat she so oft reciprocated. When she’d lost her best friends at the Conclave,she’d wondered if she would even go back, failing as she had, and yet…

And yet the Dalish had recovered more of their historythrough her in a few months than most clans managed in years.

They didn’t have everything, but they were moving forward,as they always did.

And it was time for her to do the same.

“You should know,” Josephine began, moving to wrap an armaround Kaitrith’s waist. When Kaitrith embraced her as well, she grinned. “Yvetteis quite excited for our arrival. Antoine sent a warning in his most recentletter. He says to expect a party.”

At that, Kaitrith let out a low groan. “Has he at least tried to make sure it’s asmall one?”

“I believe so. I wrote him back about what themes should beavoided at all costs, and he’s a good sort, so I feel safe that we will not bewalking into anything too dire.”

Despite baulking at the idea of a party, Kaitrith leaned herhead against Josephine’s shoulder to hide her smile. “I should have scared yoursister away when I had the chance.”

“I assure you, she is only a pain to those she completelyadores,” Josephine whispered before kissing Kaitrith’s temple.

Lifting her head, Kaitrith caught Josephine in a kiss,loving the feel of the way their mouths molded together. The kissed, handsroaming and pulling each other closer until they were breathless.

When they finally broke apart, Josephine gently grippedKaitrith’s hand and led her back into their room. “Now then, after Skyhold is claimed,that should be everything, yes?”

“Yes,” Kaitrith nodded. “We’re as untangled from theCreators and Dread Wolf as we’ll ever be able to be.”

Josephine smiled, pausing to close the balcony door beforemoving to help Kaitrith out of her clothes for the night. “Good. It will be hardenough being tangled in Antivan business dealings without Gods dropping in tomake things worse.”

With a laugh, Kaitrith caught Josephine’s hand between hercheek and shoulder and then moved to press a quick kiss to her fingers. “Iimagine I’ll be wanting to toss myself back to the Gods’ whims in no time.”

“You’d better not,” Josephine warned, abruptly tuggingKaitrith closer and wrapping her arms around her. “It’s about time I got you tomyself, and I do not intend to share you, not even with Gods and especially notwith that Dread Wolf.”

“I’m glad we agree on that,” Kaitrith murmured, laying herarm over one of Josephine’s and squeezing her hand.

And with that, Kaitrith and Josephine retired for the night,moving on to whatever might come next.

#wotfemslash2017 #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #josephine montilyet x f!lavellan #josephine montilyet #kaitrith lavellan #lavellan #romance #kaitrith disapproves #loonyloopy

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