2.21.05
4:30pm
Creativity on Tap
by morgan young
I'm not sure anyone in their right mind would willingly be part of a Willow-style church programming team. What could be more ludicrous than thinking that creativity could be poured weekly into a giant oaken cask, turned over onto its side, a tap slammed into the end and then drawn out like so many suds into a frosty mug of drink-what-you-will?
I swear to you that I love creativity. Something about being hit in the head with new or slightly bent and twisted ideas can force my eyes to leak because of its power:
a musician screaming his chops off with eyes clinched...
a singer somehow reaching down inside her toes for the last drop of that last note...
the actor who in a matter of minutes convinces you that what you're watching is a slice of real life that you've somehow sneaked into...
the way a writer weaves words that magically manifest themselves as real knots in your real stomach...
or maybe the way a body moves on stage in time with music that makes you question if you really and truly understand the ceiling of our anatomy...
Creativity taking form through artistic expression is one of the most powerful forces I know. It takes my breath. It makes me exhale with laughter. It angers, relaxes, and provokes my thought. It moves me to feel strange emotions and sort ideas in new ways. It challenges me. Makes me better. I love creativity.
But then I joined a church programming team. Get to do what I love. Sort of. Actually, what I love to do is wait for waves of creativity to roll me out of the chair and into action with storm-like predictability. What I love about creativity is that it is its own force. You know---you were at the drive thru window and a cute little idea shot into your head from who-knows-where. The spark somehow leaps into your ear and ignites some ultra-dry creative coals. And who knows if creative winds will blow today? Maybe they won't! But that's part of the beauty, part of the mystery of creativity. I love how creativity seems unharness-able. I think I love it much like some people love gold; neither is plentiful---therein the value. So here I am trying to put creativity on tap--trying to harness the unharnessable---what a schmoe!
On the emotional side, I keep trying to be good, to be mature, to be together. But on Monday's I subconsciously open my email box like a Broadway producer opens Variety after the play opened. I mean---after all the planning, all the behind-the-scenes work, those rehearsals, the pre-service adrenaline, playing for two good audiences, certainly there's affirmation. Yes? Didn't more people notice that smart transition after the second song? Maybe the senior pastor really liked this one. What if he didn't--he's just too busy to tell me? Something about my creative side makes me prone to these kinds of lame and needy psycho-fests. But then my right brain-ness kicks in trying to counsel my artistic heart, bringing all the logical and rational responses to all the illogical thoughts and emotions. In response, my left brain-ness would prefer to throw a vase at the logical me.
Every week comes around with atomic-clock precision. Some days I fanaticize that there are TWO programming teams and mine just shows up every other week. That would allow one week for the show and one week to chill, have relaxed conversations and bask in the afterglow of success. And then other days I wish we at least professionally taped the services; that way we could show re-runs---you know, like the "Best of Carson." Even multi-billion dollar studios are smart enough to not do production twelve months out of the year. They have more money than the US government and even they have an off-season where they roll reruns. And the amazing thing? People actually watch the rerun of the show they watched a month ago. If we put in a drama we did two years ago we imagine people in the service will have inner dialogue like,
"Oh-my-gosh?! I just saw this the second Sunday in September '03---what the heck?! Only last time, Sue played the part of the mom and she wore that red and beige sweater with black pants---that outfit looked way cooler than what Judy's wearing---I don't know why they picked this drama again. Isn't my tithe paying the salary of a drama director??!"
And as I write this, my artistic side is starting to feel more relaxed--in the same way you'd start to feel better after a therapy session of throwing glassware at an old brick wall. Of course my right brain-ness is getting bored with this. And I suppose my logical side can shut the heck up and deal with it---because I love creativity.
