The original idea for my book years ago was something called “Creative Self-Preservation,” which I can now see is a terrible title for a book, as is the mock up I made for the cover.
Through pen-pal letters with my great Aunt Marianne, a painter and independent woman who lived way ahead of her time, I heard her mention “self-preservation” many times throughout my teens and twenties… how no matter what happened or no matter whether she was married, divorced, etc, she had her art and therefore she had herself.
As I grew up, I came to see how my own creative practice (dancing, writing, making dance videos) was a major saving grace through a series of hardships at the time: losing my dad as I knew him to a major stroke, moving cross country, going through a break up, moving back again, and on and on.
2020 puts all of that in perspective (!), but it’s even more reason to return to this core concept, this idea that our creative expression can be the thing that carries us through.
When the pandemic hit, I knew the only sure thing was that I was meant to show up and dance. As the pandemic continued on, I took my creative process more internally, I embraced the cyclical nature of it that I talk and teach about so often, and allowed myself to pause and marinate. But even in the pause, the creative process was not lost… it was operating internally, ideas were marinating, and things were happening beneath the surface - deep healing and restructuring, along with making space and letting go.
One of the most cherished creative lifeboats during the bulk of the pandemic had been Creative Club,
my group coaching program with a cohort of 6 amazing humans who had decided to join me and delve into their creative process at the start of one of the most uncertain times of our lifetimes.
Though we gathered virtually, it truly felt like a lifeboat. Coming together during structured times with creative themes and guidance, and then being empowered to go solo and do the creative things: Guitars were dusted off. Stiff joints were oiled up. Blank notebooks were filled. Bodies were opened up to the creative muses who had been dying to dance through them.
I kept the program somewhat under the radar because not everything needs to be shouted out on Instagram all the time (ha!) and I also didn’t know if it would be a one time thing, or something we’d continue into the fall.
I’m sharing this story with you now because we ARE continuing Creative Club into the fall and I wanted you to know that spots are now open to join us.
If you sense that creativity is the lifeboat you’re needing..
If you love the idea of delving into the uncertainty of the rest of this crazy year with a guide and a community who will see you and hold up your lifeboat when needed…
If it’s time you dusted off your guitar/notebook/body/paintbrush/etc…
join me in Creative Club!
floating through the storms,
Jess
p.s. Here are words from one of our recent Creative Club members, Chessa, whose opening statement inspired this post! (Thanks, Chessa!)
“In working with Jess, creativity became a life-boat. Within the supportive structure she created, I learned to see art as way more than just a product, but deeply a part of my life. The dance I ended up making pulled together a couple things I made throughout the months from places of confusion and grief. I didn’t plan for a specific end product and felt super surprised by how it all came together. With Jess’s support, I was led into a process of creating that felt so playful and authentic. I started to trust in and value my creative process.
“Since the dance came from a much less linear & unplanned place than I’m used to living from, I feel like I’ve been able sit in the unknown more in my own life. This allowed for more authentic and aligned choices around where I’d live and how I would show up during the uprisings.
“I would encourage anyone who is here and feels called to create to trust that and lean into the support Jess has to offer. I know being in community and having her on my team was the missing piece to trusting in my own creative process.”
— Chessa Bianconi
