I took an inspiring writing workshop this weekend, Lynda Barry’s “Writing the Unthinkable.” [1] Class materials included a three-ring binder, several pens (“why not indulge in your favorite kind for morale?”) and at least 150 sheets of notebook paper. I would have rustled through our dreadfully unorganized office storage and cobbled together everything I needed. But one morning I was greeted with the prettiest binder, brand new pens and a crisp, new shrink-wrapped pile of paper. It was the best thing, because I never, never would have bought them for myself.

So there I was at the workshop, with all my materials and enthusiasm, ready to create, when some old voices popped into my head. Don’t waste paper! Don’t waste ink! You’re wasting the earth’s resources, not to mention your time! What’s the point? I pushed the voices aside as Lynda Barry told us to use only one side of the paper, and use another piece for constant doodling. I ran through one pen, and consumed much of my paper stack. It was difficult to keep the old voices out of my creative mind, even after Lynda Barry acknowledged the issue of “waste” and gave us permission to use our stuff toward the goal of creativity.

I know these voices come from having been poor, and more recently from my frugal Momster tendencies, but I have made a point to never tell Georgia she is wasting paper, or can’t use her “good” markers. If we have the materials, she is free to use them. And I usually relax my “Do you need this or do you just want this?” standards for the sake of her art. Art supplies are here for using, and I certainly don’t want her to grow up feeling like everything she makes has to have a purpose. She creates for the joy of creating, and it’s something we get waaaaaay away from as adults.

One day Georgia wanted to do an art project with me. She wanted to make cone-shaped wizards. I balked at the thought of making one myself – what a waste! Who wants to see my silly wizard? But I kept at it, pretending I was engrossed. But then I actually became engrossed. We made our wizards and witches, added curly-toed paper shoes, and fancy robes and wands. We each made two, and then later one more. They are cute and fun, and they serve no purpose at all. We enjoyed each other’s company, we sang and got silly. We scribbled and looped and cut and glued. The “purpose” was to be there, in that moment, enjoying how metallic crayons and smooth pastels feel on construction paper. Wondering at how a circle of paper can turn into a wizard. Just being creative for fun.

Kids know this automatically. Picasso said, “All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.” Georgia creates fantastic things [1] out of the junk I can’t recycle, and delicate, intricate, beautiful hand-painted paper slippers, necklaces, masks… everything her mind imagines. Sometimes I think it’s important to let the Momster relax a bit, and reinforce the idea that the motion and the action of creating is as important as what is created. Some of us adults have to take classes to reconnect with the artist we once were. I want Georgia to keep that connection forever.