March 15: Imagination
“Imagination” by Geraldine M Ysselstein (March 2022, Mohkinstsis).
Wool and cotton woven on cardboard.
Art-study
In this piece called “Imagination”, I did a weaving for the first time. On a cardboard loom, nonetheless. It was during the COVID lockdown in 2022 and I was part of an online Creative Integration program led by art therapist Shauna Kaendo. I added the word “imagination” to the weaving because during the Creative Integration program, I was opening myself up to my imagination through the act of creating in a new way.
Imagine
Imagine yourself as a child. Close your eyes. Take a breath. Then enter your body, heart, and mind at the age of seven. What were you imagining? Who were you imagining with? Where were you imagining?
When I was a child, I consciously made a decision around the age of seven to let go of my imagination. I was in grade 2 and I had quickly realized that there was no space for imagination at school, only memorization. I remember saying “goodbye for now” to imagination and accepting the work of memorizing information. I didn’t know yet how information and imagination could work together.
Definition
It seems that the general consensus for defining imagination is that it can form a mental image of something that cannot be perceived yet by our senses. It may be a new image, thought, or idea. Creativity makes imagination perceivable, real, and tangible.
Artists, Creatives, and Innovators
Artists, creatives, and innovators can often imagine what the rest of society cannot yet perceive. It’s why I am so drawn to them. At the same time, I know that there are artists and creatives who try to recreate exactly what they see or what they have been taught (eg. me playing piano). Sometimes this is the beginning of learning new skills, but sometimes I wonder if it is because of a lack of imagination or freedom. Engaging in a creative or artistic practice doesn’t necessarily mean activating one’s imagination. Nor does it have to.
Then there are other artists, creatives, and innovators who spend their time observing and listening so intensely to what is happening within and outside of themselves that they are constantly engaging with their imagination. The act of creativity can give permission and access to their imagination (like it does for me in weaving). Creativity becomes the process and the outcome of their/our/my imagination.
Challenges
While imagination has been exalted and encouraged, there are many challenges when sharing one’s imagination; primarily that imagining can be considered a threat to the status quo.
If you share your imagination:
you may be told that you are not connected to reality.
you may be told that you are weird or dumb.
you may be told that you are being difficult.
you may be told that you are wrong.
you may be told that you need to learn how to communicate better.
You may also be imprisoned, gaslit, abused, shut down, fired, gossiped about, harmed, persecuted, hung, or banished. You may be misunderstood with violent consequences.
This makes the imagination exhausting and unsafe.
Danger
The danger of sharing your imagination is real. Sharing your imagination may also be a perceived danger as a result of intergenerational trauma.
Last year, I took part in a 9-month program with Education for Racial Equity called “Reparative Communal Consultations for White & White Passing Bodies” with 250 other participants. The facilitators were Carlin Quinn, Jennifer-Lee Noble, and Resmaa Menakem. In the program, we looked at the ways white supremacy culture moves through us individually and collectively.
Resmaa invited us to use a somatic abolitionism practice when there is a charge of race in our thoughts, memories, beliefs, and experiences. The invitation was to slow down and identify the vibes, images, meaning, behaviours, affect, and sensations associated with that thought, memory, belief, or experience. We did this individually and collectively. Then we were invited into our imagination. Many reported back that they could not access their imagination.
One individual said their imagination felt dangerous. In other words, imagining anything outside of white body supremacy felt dangerous.
We have a lot of healing of our imaginations to do.
Imagining
Can healing our imagination heal social injustices, inequities, and oppression? Can art, culture, language, and story help us with healing our imagination? Can healing lead us to art, culture, language and story?
I began working in the arts sector as an arts manager because I wanted to be part of imagining art for social change and social justice, I wanted to champion the connection between artist and audience, and I wanted to be surrounded by the imaginations of creative people. I listened deeply to what artists were saying in their art and began to imagine the possibilities for change within and outside of the arts sector.
I began to share MY imagination for what I thought was possible.
In a place (the arts sector) that champions the imagination of artists, creatives, and innovators; I have come to see that imagination is only acceptable in a certain format within certain parameters. It is not expected to be translated or experienced elsewhere, but to remain within this prescribed container.
Four corners, neat, and square.
Freedom and Paradox
While I thought I had put my imagination on pause as a child, I hadn’t. My senses took in everything around me and my imagination gave me the freedom to not believe all the information that was shared with me. My imagination was not dangerous to me; it protected me. It meant that I grew up holding space for multiple truths, worldviews, and perspectives without judgement. It meant that I could discern reality as not being the status quo.
When I began to share my imagination beyond the prescribed container that the arts sector has created, I began to understand the challenge of sharing one’s imagination. I began to understand all those who have tried. And like so many before me, I have turned to an artistic and creative practice to heal my imagination because of and within the confines of the very arts sector that will put it in a container. I’m living a paradox with/within my imagination.
Conclusion
Here is what I think is one of the most important things we can do: heal our imaginations so we can heal ourselves, our relationships to land, our families, and each other. And to listen, support, and advocate for the imaginations of those around us.
Questions:
When/where/with whom do you practice imagination and creativity?
What inspires your imagination? When do you feel that you can imagine? Are you stopping your imagination or the imagination of others around you? Why?
What might you imagine about the arts and culture sector?
