NEWS PHOTOGRAPHER | IT'S A PROCESS

Keep Going: Creative advice on staying productive during the pandemic

By Eric Maierson | Illustration by Julie M. Elman

By Eric Maierson

February 2022 - I have been trying to write this introductory paragraph since November — which should tell you exactly how inspired I’ve felt this winter. I was already experiencing the low hum of stagnation when omicron arrived in December, bringing with it even more isolation.

It turns out I was not alone in feeling stuck. My collaborators, illustrator Julie Elman and editor Sue Morrow, shared with me their own stories of dormancy. So the three of us, seeking assistance, decided to ask our friends and colleagues, and one another, for advice: How can we maintain our creative practices during this longest of winters?

Jump to sections:
Bethany Bickley, Savannah, Georgia-based designer.
Julie M. Elman, professor at the School of Visual Communication at Ohio University
Caitlyn Greene, director
Jim Haag, former reporter and visual journalist, is now based in Idaho and taking on pottery with gusto.
Gabe Hakvaag, community theater director and producer in Pennsylvania
Melissa Lyttle, photojournalist
Eric Maierson is a writer and two-time Emmy-winning editor. He’s the author of this column, “It’s a Process.”
Sue Morrow, editor/designer
Gaelen Morse, 31, Columbus, Ohio-based freelance visual photojournalist and writer. @gmorsephoto on Instagram

Bethany Bickley, Savannah, Georgia-based designer.

Have you been able to maintain your creative life? If so, what are you doing right? If not, how are you holding on to hope?
Kind of. I was pretty uninspired with my work in 2021. My outlet was my daughter. She just turned a year old and was home with me all year (because of the pandemic). I think others can relate to working at home with little ones. I found creative ways to entertain her and watch her learn, and I let that be enough. I have a sitter now, and I’m just now easing back into feeling more creative with my work.

How are you maintaining your mental health?
I talk a lot with close friends who can relate to how I feel. I try not to put too much pressure on myself. I keep a loose schedule and am OK if things don’t go as planned or if I’m not as productive as I want to be.

What advice do you give yourself or others?
This season doesn’t define you. You aren’t just as good as your last work; you are a collective of all of your accomplishments. The creativity is still there. It doesn’t just disappear.

Julie M. Elman, professor at the School of Visual Communication at Ohio University.

Have you been able to maintain your creative life? If so, what are you doing right? If not, how are you holding on to hope?
I’ve been taking it slowly these days — and not putting pressure on myself to tackle big projects over the long haul. I’m finding that small, creative, daily acts keep me connected to my creative life during a time when that particular wavelength feels kind of frayed.

How are you maintaining your mental health?
Lots of working out, walking and dialing back on my news consumption.

What advice do you give yourself or others?
Take it one day at a time. Screw perfectionism. Embrace process.

See Julie M. Elman illustrations @joodlesbyjulie on Instagram

Caitlyn Greene, director

Have you been able to maintain your creative life? If so, what are you doing right? If not, how are you holding on to hope?
I’m working on an independent project solo right now, so finding ways to stay accountable has been key. Even though I’m working alone at this stage, I’ve tried to build a train that doesn't totally stop without me — even if that just means setting up meetings I'm on the hook to prepare for, or committing to grant submissions with hard deadlines. Also, letting myself recharge when I need and take in plenty of art and stories unrelated to my project.

How are you maintaining your mental health?
Going outside in the morning before starting work, even if it’s just for a spin around the block. Creating a dedicated workspace in whatever way possible. Reading the news only sparingly. Very sparingly. Celebrating small victories.

What advice do you give yourself or others?
Consistency is key. A tiny bit every day adds up. When in doubt, just do the next right thing.

Caitlyn Greene is an Emmy Award-winning filmmaker who loves complex tales that break the mold and has told them in everything from six-second shorts to six-part television series.

Jim Haag, former reporter and visual journalist, is now based in Idaho and taking on pottery with gusto.

Have you been able to maintain your creative life? If so, what are you doing right? If not, how are you holding on to hope?
This will be a long answer, just to give you some background. I was a journalist for 35 years, and that was my main creative outlet: in writing, in editing and in design. As I got better at design, I found that it spilled into other parts of my life, and I relished making my home as creative and kooky as I wanted.

But I was nervous when I retired to a small Idaho community six years ago because that journalistic process was so much a part of who I am (who I was?) that I wasn’t sure what I would do. Shortly after we moved here, my wife (also a lifelong journalist) and I became involved in the local Senior Center, and we took over the monthly newsletter. It was a great way to use those skills that were so much a part of our lives.

But it wasn’t enough. I took many painting classes, and though I truly enjoyed it (and actually did a couple that aren't hideous), I knew that wasn’t where I wanted to go. I tried writing, just for me, and I enjoyed it, but it, too, wasn't enough.

Then a friend invited my wife and I to take a pottery class with her, and it was a revelation. At first, I was really bad, and at times, I had decided to stick with it even though I knew I would never get good at it because it was a “time stopper” for me.

So what’s a time stopper? When I was a reporter and also an editor, there would be days when I was working on a story and I would suddenly glance up and realize that I was so absorbed in what I was doing that two or two and a half or even three hours had passed, and I didn’t even realize it.

That same thing began happening to me in the pottery studio. My wife and I would leave class, and she would mention something that happened, and I would have to ask her to tell me about it because I was so into trying to create pottery that time — and the world — seemed to stop. It was just me and the clay. It was and is a wondrous feeling. Slowly, I got better at pottery, and I now create things that I’m not ashamed to actually give to others.

And along the way, I made a realization: Clay has now become my creative outlet, but it is different from journalism in a huge way. It’s physical as well as mental. When I was writing or editing or designing, if I could dream something up in my head, I could usually produce it. I was limited only by my imagination. With clay, I can imagine the most amazing pottery, but I often realize that I don’t yet have the skills to pull it off. It’s a very physical process, as well as mental.

When the pandemic hit, the studio closed. I missed it, but I didn’t know how much. As time dragged on, I found myself getting grouchier and grouchier — at times, even explosively upset about the most inane things. It scared me. I had always been a pretty levelheaded guy who loved to laugh, and I was turning into someone who was becoming enraged at the drop of a hat.

It was during this time that Julie and I reconnected; I had known we were soulmates early in our friendship, and I didn't know how much I missed her until we began Zooming regularly. (And I do wonder, had it not been for the pandemic and the loneliness that was setting in, when we would have done that.)

Last May, the studio reopened, and my wife and I began taking classes again — masked and socially distancing and all that. And I began to have those time-stopping moments again, and I cried — joyfully — more than once when it happened because it was such a good feeling to have back.

And, for me, the physicality of the process became even more important to me. I began to realize that if I want to create these incredible pots, I have to first learn — really learn — the basics. So this fall, I asked my pottery teacher if I could go back to the beginning. I spent weeks doing nothing but centering clay. Then weeks opening it. Then five weeks creating nothing but cylinders, because cylinders are a building block to so many things. I was reprogramming my muscle memory. I saved nothing — not a single thing — from those months.

And even though it looked from the outside that I was not being productive at all, it was — and the process is still continuing — one of the most creative times of my life. I had always thought that creativity meant actually creating something. Now I know that creativity, for me, is a feeling.

How are you maintaining your mental health?
I've always loved people and have been blessed with good friends, but I’ve realized over the past year that every close friend I’ve ever made has either been someone I worked with — and so I had spent much time with them before we ever became friends outside of work — or it was someone that my wife had brought into our circle — and then when I felt safe, I would open up and become friends with them.

We worried when we moved [to Idaho] how we would make friends — most of ours had come through work over the years. We aren’t religious, so we’ve never had church friends, and we don’t have kids and thus grandkids, which is another way to meet people at our age. So one day, I had a chilling realization: I was so insecure deep down that I had never initiated a friendship, especially with other guys, since I was a boy.

So this fall, I made a commitment to put myself out there the next time I met someone whom I thought was interesting. At a pottery class, there was a guy 20-some years younger than me, and I thought he was cool, and I decided we would become friends. At times, I went way overboard with him, but he has stuck with me, and we’re both looking forward to getting to know each other better.

So to answer your question, the pandemic made me realize that I needed to look inward and take chances if I wanted to remain sane and keep growing, and that has been amazing to figure out. The past two months have been my happiest in decades, and I attribute that to doing things that seemed scary — creating something out of clay and creating a friendship — but had immense payoffs in the end.

What advice do you give yourself or others?
• Take chances. Don’t hold yourself back. Be bold at times. Be needy at times. Be weepy at times. Be you at all times.

• Create a safe spot with friends you love and who love you. When Trump was elected, it shook my world. I hadn’t been naive enough to think everything was perfect, but I thought we were headed in the right direction. Now I realize that much of the world is ugly. In response, I’ve set out to create my own private Idaho, surrounded by people who I adore and who let me be me, as weird and warty as that sometimes is.

• Don’t be too hard on yourself. I know this goes without saying, but we all beat ourselves up too much. Why am I not creating? Why am I sad? Why can’t I do this? Let yourself fail. Realize that failure is part of the process.

• Try something new. And, yes, you will fail at it initially, but that’s OK. I’m anxious to take up the piano again. I had tried about 15 years ago, but when I wasn’t a whiz after three months, I stopped. Now I want to do it for the sheer joy of learning rather than an end result. And if I don’t love it, I’ll move on to something else.

• Get high occasionally. Sure, it’s cheating. But it helps. :)

Gabe Hakvaag, community theater director and producer in Pennsylvania

Have you been able to maintain your creative life?
Yes, but with caveats.

If so, what are you doing right?
In normal times, I always looked for projects that were a challenge — that I was not sure I knew how to deliver them. In 2021 I produced an absurdist Sarah Ruhl play, “Dead Man’s Cell Phone,” that was a wonderful play that required a high level of collaboration and problem solving with a cast of nonprofessional actors. I incorporated dance for the first time. I’m still mulling over what succeeded and what didn’t, but I’m glad for the opportunity to try.

With COVID, and because I produce for a community theater, we are constantly challenged by changes in the situation, new safety protocols, etc. Figuring out how to create plays in this environment has called on a lot of creativity, as well as opportunity to build and strengthen our local community. For almost a year we had to close our theater and perform online. Now we are back on stage but learning new ways to rehearse and perform in ways that are reasonably safe. We understand that at any moment we may need to close down again. Learning to live with these constraints and make art together is a constant puzzle to solve.

If not, how are you holding on to hope?
Sometimes things don’t work out. Cancellations and postponements are a fact of life, even before COVID. I have tried to keep moving forward in the present but have an eye on the future. Our company is currently investing in a complete tech upgrade. New lighting and sound system, new stage. And along with overseeing this upgrade, I’ve been working to identify and train new people in our community to produce, design and perform theater in our community. There’s a lot of “herding cats” involved, as ultimately we are expanding a small community theater company to include multiple directors, with more opportunities to perform and reach audiences. Change often meets resistance. But I am encouraged by the individuals who are eager to learn new skills, especially in this “downtime.”

How are you maintaining your mental health?
Yeesh, am I? I just lean into the wind and keep going.

What advice do you give yourself or others?
Don’t be precious. It’s not about me, or what we as individuals want. We build community by working together, respecting each other and finding ways forward. We build community by telling stories. That’s what theater is. How we do it is up to us.

Gabe Hakvaag is a producer, director and technical director with Hamilton-Gibson Productions, a community performing arts organization serving north-central Pennsylvania. In 2022, Hakvaag is overseeing a complete overhaul of H-G’s lighting and sound system, as well as directing the Marx Brothers musical, “Animal Crackers,” in July.

Melissa Lyttle, photojournalist

Have you been able to maintain your creative life? If so, what are you doing right? If not, how are you holding on to hope?

Maybe. Kind of. Sometimes.

I think for many, the creative process actually has a life cycle. It goes something like this: Illumination > Incubation >