I could sit and talk at length about about the benefits of being playful, mindful, present, etc. and small talk you into a nice micronap, but I’m not going to do that just now.   Instead I’m going to jump to the heart of the matter (for me at least)…

Play is the antidote to death.

Whether it’s humour, imagination, free exploration in whatever you are doing, play releases the mind from the shackles of order and your neverending to do list and brings your creativity into motion.

It’s well known how children’s play is fundamental to their development, it’s less discussed how critical it is to adult development and I think, emotional survival.  

I’ve got a sneaky feeling that we should all be playing a lot more and creating more opportunities to play, as often as we can.  The harder life becomes the more important play becomes.

image by @jonathanwards Unsplash.com

So what counts as play?

Well - for me, art is a big part of my play.  But so is getting into a great book, solving problems, getting into any kind of physical activity beyond the ‘when is it going to stop phase’ or laughing hard about stupid stuff.  

I try to look for opportunities where I can, and try to make the most of them.  

I find it lightens up life, a lot (which is generally hard and often boring) and allows my subconscious to have a roam around and stretch it’s legs. 

When it comes to my artistic process, how I play can be quite varied and like most artists, is more a broader way of doing things rather than a structured set of activities.  But I can give you some examples …

• I draw weird stuff in my sketchbook, (not cute-weird or interesting-weird, just weird).
• I sing along to stuff and love to hear other people singing (especially while they’re working)
• I enjoy a good wind up, although it’s often on me.  I’ve got a stupid sense of humour and love the absurd.
• I spa with/tickle my kids, friends and family.  Basically anyone who looks ticklish.  Surprise attacks are the best.
• I love to hear kids mad/honest views on things.   
• I befriend cats and dogs (I often use the dog language ‘play pose’ to bond with new pals I make). 
• I’m learning how to play the guitar, very slowly but surely.  I make up little melodies.
• I (privately) like making up stories about strangers on the train or drivers sitting in traffic in the car across from me, there is a lot of drama.  

In the studio…

• I play with leftover paint after finishing a session and see what happens.  Some really good stuff can come out of these sessions.
• I keep snippets and cut out good areas of discarded work for collages and future projects.
• I set myself small timed exercises when I’m feeling a bit stuck - like 5 mins with a postcard and fineliner and see what happens.
• I set myself totally out of the norm projects to keep things interesting and break up big projects that follow similar lines.
• I search for obscure podcasts and radio stations of special interest and listen to new ideas and get the cogs turning.
• I enjoy walking and day dreaming.
• I observe as much as I can.
• I try to follow my instincts towards ideas, images, sounds and things of interest.

‘Towards Paradise’ Limited Edition Fine Art Print

How do you play and how could you play more? 

Perhaps I can help… have a little read of this story and see where it goes in your head.  Follow the thread where does it lead? 

‘Behind the fallen fence panel was the alleyway.  Behind that alley was the local cemetery, and beyond that, the park with it’s crisp, green cricket pavilions and the distant laughter of the playpark.   We always felt that geography, always knew where we were in relation to it.  It was a special thing, knowing how many layers of things lay between you and the dream.

We got together with the other local stragglers that were around, having gained permission from our mums on the basis of a sketchy promise to ‘not go too far’.  Then we queued, whispering, at the place in the alley’s fence where two planks had rotted away and disappeared one by one like a line of small, scruffy limbo dancers bending into the unknown.  

On the other side the graveyard stretched out, eery and sleepy quiet.  Small green stones twinkled brightly like they had been mined from the Emerald city.  We waited, assessing the terrain and reminded ourselves it took one long minute to pelt across to reach safe passage on the other side (another broken fence where we would emerge into the park and the best of times).  Glancing around at the others, I knew they were no help.  I had to go first.’  …

(Tell me what happens next)

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