I’ve had a tab open for kening zhu’s post about rituals vs. sprints for nearly a month. It reminds me about something Katherine May once said on a podcast* about the cycle of neurodivergent hyperfocus and recovery. Versus a neurotypical ideal of consistency. It’s something I am still figuring out. Having experienced burn out I find I need to be careful of flying too close to the sun. But trying to force a structure that doesn’t align with my capacity is also not right. I’d love to hear other thoughts on this.
* I can’t seem to find the podcast episode I’m talking about. 🤦
As someone with time blindness I can very easily sink time into something without realizing.
This year I’m experimenting with spreadsheets and time charts as tools to visualize time. Here is how 2025 has been looking (as of March 24.)
January
I had a lot of loops to close in January and it felt like a ton of admin. This was my first month tracking my time. The pie chart was a game changer. I started it mid month and the wedges for web & self publishing dominated the chart. It took conscious effort to put more time into personal projects to balance the chart out.
This chart visualizes how much time I spent on each creative project.
This month my biggest wedge was redesigning my website. But seeing how big the blue wedge was motivated me to make time for other things.
Web (59.0%)
Redesigning my website and migrating my newsletter to Buttondown.
Zines (21.1%)
Making Not About TETRIS and working on illustrations for a zine about the spectrum of neurodivergence. My scanner died this month and created a lot of headaches.
Other (10.3%)
Designed two self inking stamps (folks with zine subs will see these soon) and sewing patches on a denim jacket.
Mawd (4.4%)
Work on my fiction novel. I’m in an ideation phase.
My website wedge is still the largest (although I have a few days to go) based on shop and subscription migration headaches. I hope to continue making this wedge smaller over time.
Web (38.9.0%)
Moving zine subs from Big Cartel to Stripe, redoing various opt ins, migrating Neurokind to Beehiiv, archiving March blog posts, and writing for blog & newsletter.
I debated over logging this, but it is important self regulating work and part of my creative ecosystem.
Reducing Admin Time
I also did a bar chart showing the different parts of the process to see that balance.
Here you see Admin & Prep decreasing and time to Create growing from January to March.
I’m 90% sure this shift would not have happened without this visual tool. It’s too easy to get pulled into neverending admin and website tweaks. This makes me more aware.
Top Tip
I found tracking the time itself really hard until I started using the Tap When app. (Not a sponsor.) I tap when I start and tap when I finish. No math!
P.S. My spreadsheets are in no condition to officially share as a resource, but if you’d like to see the imperfect version I’m working with I’m happy to share the template for you to make your own. Just drop me a line or respond to a newsletter.
Image Credit: Prague Astronomical Clock via Wiki Commons
I remember the moment I discovered kening zhu’s website.
I was taking a break from Substack and discovered are.na.
It followed a warren of rabbit holes chasing one link after another until I landed on kening’s homepage.
I won’t spoil the surprise for anyone who hasn’t been there, but I was filled with delight and curiosity and wonder.
When I set about to move webhosts I started recreating my minimalist artist’s gallery. But it didn’t feel right.
Serendipity (or magic) kening’s podcast episode Website as Cocoon waited in my podcast reader and was just what I needed to hear.
I pulled out my journal and started scribbling lists of places I wanted in my online world. I could still have an art gallery, but the rest of my site would expand to hold the whole of me. And, perhaps, the whole of you.
I followed links to a constellation of other podcasts and blog posts from kening about websites and creative process.
It felt like connecting with kindred spirit over an endless pot of tea.
So grateful for the invitation to inhabit a dreaming space while I recreated my website.
These early index cards were specifically collected for ideating the type of creative community I want to cultivate.
There are a lot of threads to pull on here.
“the aspirations of Black Mountain College: namely to inspire us in an expansive notion of the arts and creativity through close observation, physical engagement, service, and play…”
Jill Medvedow (p. 18)
Keeping an expansive view of art and what it can do and be. It also feels important that creativity can both be of service and play which so often seem at odds with one another.
“artistic exchange” and “the cultural ecosystem is a theme”
Jill Medvedow, p. 18
“the effect of a long gestation period cannot be under estimated”
p. 20
“Josef Albers insisted that art display a rigorous understanding of its material properties.”
p. 25
This quotes are at the heart of a desire for social change. It still feels very radical to value the wisdom of youth. And also the focus on practical learning.
“We must realize that the world as it is isn’t worth saving; it must be made over.”
John Rice, p. 30
“We should realize there is a wisdom of youth as well as wisdom of old age.”
John Rice, p. 31
“There are things to be learned through observation (that) cannot be learned any other way.”
John Rice, p. 31
“Whatever cannot be expressed in words cannot be learned in words.”
It feels very relevant to Neurokind as platform to share experiences that may transcend or defy language.
John Andrew Rice and student David Bailey, Blue Ridge campus, Black Mountain College, circa 1933 or ’34
“…there is something of the artist in everyone and the development of this talent, however small, carrying with it a severe discipline of its own, results in the students becoming more sensitive to order in the world and within himself than he can ever be through intellectual effort alone.”
John Rice, Black Mountain College Bulliten, 1935 (p. 34)
Bucky Fuller, Elaine de Kooning, Josef Albers, students, and a thing that would become, a year later, the first geodesic dome
“The summer sessions permitted an extraordinary form of cross-pollination.” 🐝🐝🐝
“Almost none of the summer faculty was paid a salary but received instead room and board and some relaxing time in the country.”
Helen Molesworth , p. 42
“The summer sessions modeled a form of artistic community, one that de Kooning took with him to New York in 1950, when he helped to found the Artists’ Club, a gathering dedicated to the presentation of avant-garde ideas.“
“Black Mountain helped to establish the idea that an art school is a place of competing and diverse ideas, where the task of the faculty is to commit to a sense of rigor instead of personal taste, and the job of the students is to navigate the complexity of the options, in the hope of finding their own paths through what John Cage called “the big question,” namely, “What are you going to do with your time?”[^3]
Helen Molesworth, p. 45
“the relation is not so much of teacher to student as of one member of the community to another.”
Black Mountain College Catalogue Leap Before You Look, p. 80
“In essence there exists the utmost freedom for people to be what they please. There is simply no pattern of behavior, no criteria to live up to. People study what they please, as long as they want to, idle if they want to, graduate whenever they are willing to stand on examination, even after only a month here, or a year, or whatever, or they can waive all examinations, and graduations. They can attend classes, or stay away. They can work entirely by themselves, or they need not work whatever. They can be male, female, or fairy, married, single, or live in illicit love.”
Jack Tworkov , p. 42
These examples highlight an egalitarianism and exchange of ideas that I’d like to foster in creative spaces I facilitate.
John Andrew Rice holding court with students (including Dave Bailey, in hat), Black Mountain College, circa 1933 or ’34
“What you do with what you know is the important thing. To know is not enough.”
John Rice, pg. 77
“There were no letter grades at Black Mountain College, nor were there required courses, set curricula, standard examinations, or prescribed teaching methods.”
“When John Rice established Black Mountain College in 1933, he sought to create a school that dissolved distinctions between curricular and extracurricular activities, that conceived of education and life as deeply intertwined, and that placed the arts at the center rather than at the margins of learning.“
“For Rice, education was registered not by grades or other standard criteria but in a heightened desire to learn and to question, which would lead students to an expanded aptitude for solving a range of problems and to a richer sense of self.”
Ruth Erikson, p. 77
“WE DO NOT ALWAYS CREATE ‘WORKS OF ART,’ BUT RATHER EXPERIMENTS; IT IS NOT OUR AMBITION TO FILL MUSEUMS: WE ARE GATHERING EXPERIENCE.”
Josef Albers, p. 33
Josef Albers giving Nan Chapin (and others) painting pointers, Lee Hall porch, Blue Ridge campus, Black Mountain College, spring 1936
“Josef Alber’s thought of teaching art as analogous to teaching a language, hence the students had to begin with the building blocks of aesthetics; he called drawing a ‘graphic language’ that was both a ‘visual and manual act.’ “
“Alber’s color course… proved that the experience of color was ultimately fungible.”
For example: Cutting up and collating bits of paper to see how they change in relationship to each other.
Helen Molesworth, p. 34
“The relativity of our experience of color has philosophical and ethical implications, as well. If our experience of a piece of colored paper can change so demonstrably, then what side footing do we have when we appeal to ‘common-sense’ truths like color?”
“forms are subject to perception – what Albers calls experience.”
“The task of training students to see, “to open eyes,” as Albers often said, was to facilitate their critical awareness of the made qualities of the world around them, to make them self-aware of their own experiences to better prepare them for the democratic work of making considered choices.”
“Rather Albers insisted on the relativity of color, the perceptual instability of human experience, and the need for a constant performance or testing of innumerable variables.”
Helen Molesworth, p. 41
This basis for experimentation is really key to BMC – although every artist interpreted that in their own way. Albers’ way was questioning your own perception and experience as a lesson to think deeply about the world.
3. John Cage question from interview in 1968. Interviewer: “But does that alter the fact that you might have preferred going to a different happening?” Cage: “That’s not an interesting question; for you are actually at this one where you are. How are you going to use this situation if you are there? This is the big question. What are you going to do with your time? If you use it negatively, you really are not consuming. You’re rather doing some other kind of thing which, as I’ve explained just now, loses tempo. You have somehow to use it posi-tively. We have illustrations of how to get at this, and it would be part and parcel of the new ethic or new morality or new aesthetic.” Source: p. 28 in John Cage: An Anthology (1991)
I haven’t bought a book that cost this much since university, but it is a beauty. If you’re interested in reading I’d suggest checking out an interlibrary loan or trying library at your nearest art museum. But compared to going back to school for a Ph.D., which I briefly considered this Spring, this book is basically a steal. 😉
But I was already establishing coping mechanisms. Because I had no internal chronometer to distinguish between 5 minutes and 50 I would prepare for every outing far far in advance and find myself in a state of limbo unable to do anything but wait.
This is effective, but is also a black hole for both energy and time.
People with time blindness tend to be chronically early or chronically late.
It’s funny that the same internal experience can result in two such seemingly different behaviors, but it makes sense. One approach to time is a rigid controlled white knuckling. A hyperfocus that saps both time and energy from your life. The other holds on with a looser grip and time slips away.
You might construe the first stereotype as autism and the second as ADHD, but time blindness is an internal experience shared by both.
Now that I’m a mother I simply don’t have bandwidth to white knuckle my way through the day hyperfocusing on time.
I cannot wait in the car for an hour. I do not have an hour to spare.
Not to mention the chaotic element of a small human who has all sorts of urgent needs that can’t always be anticipated.
How do normal people know when to leave the house to arrive somewhere on time?
I never realized I was working SO HARD at something most people find simple.
I was obsessed with planners a few years ago. I never would have described myself as disorganized, but this was down to the fact that I relied on a series of complicated systems to keep track of the most basic things.
Like what day of the week it is. (I’m not kidding.)
When Davy was in his human goat phase I gave planners up. As a result I’ve been flying blind for 3.5 years now. During this time I have learned a few things:
First, go gentle on people who show up late and forget things. They are doing their best.
Second, I really thrive with structure and systems.
It’s impossible to overstate how much having a plan helps me.
Structure frees up my brain for other things in a way that I can only compare to breathing oxygen versus being waterboarded.
I’ve been metaphorically drowning for actual years now.
At first I thought the lesson I was meant to be learning was how to “let go” and embrace fluidity.
There is nothing less helpful you could suggest to a human whose brain needs structure.
The last few months I have been experimenting with themed days. With one focus per day my nervous system has improved dramatically. It also seems to help Davy. (We are both the type of neurodivergent who likes to know what’s coming.)
But we all need different things.
If your brain needs freedom embrace that. Don’t let people shame you and push you into a rigid structure if that doesn’t work for you.
When we’re forced to work in ways that run counter to our neurotype it’s important to recognize this is legitimately difficult for us.
Life seems determined to deal out changed plans, external deadlines, and an ungodly amount of urgent paperwork.
When this happens we should treat ourself like we’re doing something really hard (because we are.)
Without a plan my brain feels like it is on high alert all the time just trying to get through the day. Imagine a tennis player bouncing with bent legs ready to sprint in any direction*. That’s how I feel without a plan. It’s exhausting. And I am far more likely to become overstimulated.
*I know nothing about sports. But we were told to stand this way in Improv class and I quit immediately. 😂
When our nervous system is on high alert we can help ourselves by:
providing sensory support (comfortable clothes, fidgets, movement, regulating environments)
seeking comfort (a cozy blanket, a favorite book or tv show, a cup of tea)
asking for help
finding someone to work alongside us (sometimes this is called “body doubling”)
When I talk about creative ecosystems what I mean is expanding your concept of creativity beyond the act of making. Every part of your lived experience makes up your creative ecosystem.
I developed this metaphor to help me build a healthier creative practice. Each element of a natural ecosystem (sun, water, air, etc.) is matched with a creative counterpart (body, mind, environment, and so on.)
Once I began seeing creativity in this way I couldn’t unsee it.
I also noticed a holistic view of creativity was quite counter cultural.
It’s an alternative approach to these two common creative traps.
1. One Size Fits All Advice
Too many creative leaders are trying to pass on their specific creative process as if it will work for anyone.
Even my beloved Julia Cameron is guilty of this. The seeds of this idea were sown when I reread The Artist’s Way as a new mum. I knew creativity was an important part of my life and wanted guidance in how to maintain my creative life through new motherhood.
But suddenly, Julia’s advice no longer served me. I was exhausted. I didn’t have the capacity for daily journaling. And it wasn’t what I needed.
What I needed was a nap.
Reaching the end of my rope taught me that caring for my body and my mind is an essential part of the creative process.
I still don’t write or make something every day, and that’s okay. I’ve found a new rhythm that’s working for me. It’s fluid and adaptive and continues to develop over time.
2. Hustle, Hustle, Burnout
For years I’ve been working under the hustle, hustle, burnout template. I would push myself past the edge of my capacity and then crash and burn.
I see a lot of my fellow artists doing the same thing.
There is a growing awareness that we need rest, but it’s often treated like one more thing to squeeze into your to-do list.
What we really need is to rebalance our entire creative process.
Here’s where your creative ecosystem comes in.
Consider the Big Picture
When you stop hyperfocusing on productivity and take a step back you can see that every bit of your life is interconnected. It all serves your creative process.
Instead of following a template created by someone else start paying attention to your own needs. Then, make little shifts that honor your own capacity.
Discover your unique balance of structure and freedom, input and output, solitude and community, and more. Dig into your purpose and why you’re creating. Create rituals for rest and reflection.
When I saw there was more to art than simply making my own creative ecosystem began to thrive.
I can’t make a fun quiz to determine if your ecosystem is a forest or a canyon.
Only you can decide that.
But I have spent two years writing a book to help you start the journey.
Breaking down your creative ecosystem and exploring it one step at a time.
Discover Your Creative Ecosystem is a short read full of inspiring images and prompts to reflect on your personal creative practice. It’s available in hardcover, ebook, and audiobook. There’s also a fully illustrated companion for journaling or multimedia collage.
I’ve always been envious of Emily Starr’s singular focus on her Alpine Path. Her one true passion was writing, and she always knew what she wanted to achieve. My creative endeavors are more… varied.
I’ll gather up a handful to paint a picture for you.
I’ve drafted novels, thrown pots, directed plays, painted landscapes, photographed weddings, cross stitched samplers, planted gardens, made mosaics, designed websites, produced short films, dipped candles, made flower crowns, designed logos, stage managed, blogged, vlogged, danced en pointe, painted posters, designed gravestones, baked cakes, bound books, sewn pockets, developed my own photographs, scrapbooked, acted, silk screened, written for a magazine, learned Irish step dancing, embroidered hoops, written plays & performed puppetry…
The list goes on.
I still want to learn to play the ukulele, crochet & needlefelt.
University was a beautiful time of reckless curiosity for me. I studied anything that sparked my interest, even taking classes that didn’t count toward my degrees.
But when I started a photography business I told myself that any other creative projects were a waste of time.
I continually make the mistake of trying to “specialize.”
Telling myself that I have to choose one art form and practice it exclusively. Even so, my focus shifted from photography to cinematography to blogging to vlogging to sticker making…
I clearly lack the ability to stick to one specific thing.
Each time I told myself that my new passion would be “it.”
Then, about a year ago, I made the tough decision to close down my photography business. It was incredibly freeing. I made discoveries about my creative process, improved my mental health, and realized I had developed a chronic illness that was draining a lot of my energy. I was able to slow down and take care of me.
I’ve had a bit of a rebirth this year. I’m feeling more myself than I have since my years in college.
I chose “create” as my word for 2017, which quickly transformed into “dabble”. Instead of creating and marketing products I began to kindle my curiosity.
After a year of creating just to create I’ve realized that I’m never going to find a single art form that defines my identity as an artist.
So I’ve stopped searching for it.
I’m embracing my identity as a Renaissance Soul and am chasing curiosity with wild abandon.
