I think perhaps that the adjacent possible can help us feel safer in a space of not knowing, because we come to realise that in spaces of not knowing, we are not lost, and it is not chaos - instead, we stand in a space with which we are partly familiar, and we only have to be open enough to see the choices which are (at that time) available to us… We don’t have to imagine the unimaginable.
If you know me at all, you’ll know I’m fascinated by how artists have the capacity to hold themselves in a state of “not knowing” and how vital being in a space of not-knowing is in terms of creative exploration. I’ve written about it here, and through my work in AccessArt I see time and again how teachers and pupils are held back by a fear of being in a space of not knowing (because they fear judgment) - a product, I think, of the last few years of education policy which has valued measurable knowledge over felt experience.
Some of my most treasured times in my studio over the last few months have been where I have been in a state of what some might call flow, but I have always thought of as “bounce”. In a state of bounce, I’m receptive to the materials
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The Everyday School of Art to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.