Sunni Dawson

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Me, You, Creative ???

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A few people have wished me well with creativity on this venture of writing a book.

I always have always seen artists as different from me. A unique group of beings that are on par with the great avatars of history, able to create works that transport people to places yet unseen and lives yet unlived.

This elite group of beings have been gifted these magical powers to create pieces of work that are mesmerising, reflecting themselves and the world around them. Expressing life in unique forms.



I always thought creativity belonged to these celestial beings and I had no right to be apart of it. 





I have long been an avid supporter of art. All forms of art. Going to new cities and places, the first things I look for are the best street art haunts, walks to understand the architecture, galleries and museums. My admiration and thirst has never been satiated.

I never considered myself one of them. 



Even when I took up a strong interest in photography, and spending time, maybe a little too much time, annoying my friends and family with more and more requests for pictures. Usually of the same thing or person from different angles. As you can imagine, it can get pretty tedious for the subjects, ‘surely one shot is enough?’ and ‘that’s enough now Sunni’ was a regular refrain.





Me playing with dots!

Even when I designed strategic plans with tapestries of colours and designs for ease of comprehension and reference, plastered my office walls with colourful posters, mind maps and quotes, I did not see this as being creative. Or my home, with collections of art from around the world, I still considered myself an appreciator, not a creator.


Not an artist.

Even with the great care and reckless abandon I approached to cooking feasts for my friends and family. I rarely use a recipe and I like to be inspired by cuisines from around the globe, adding a diverse range of flavours to devise unique creations of love and happiness.

I still didn’t consider myself a ‘Creative’.

And this journey here, I considered myself to be writing a book. Not being creative. I’m just writing a book. I am not an artist. I am not one of those amazing beings.

But then a thought emerged this week: I am creating. I am. I am.

I have joined them. I have joined the realm of the artists! (squeals).


At last I’m one of them!



Then a new thought came: everyone can be in the realm of the artists. Everyone is everyday. Everyday people are creating something: a perfect cup of coffee, a memo to their boss, a home, a smile to a stranger, a great conversation, an argument, a more or less powerful body.

We are all creating all the time. Some creations are deemed more or less valuable, depending on the person’s point of view. 


Some people may deem that they are not creative. And not recognise they are creating anything. But everyday we are creating something: our lives. This may be a cliched statement, but every action we take we are creating something which becomes what we live.



I like the idea that we are creating things all the time. I also like the thought that they are artistic creations. That means I can be an artist everyday, in most actions I take. I can ask myself what wonderful artistic conversations shall I have today? What artful food shall enter my body? What artful writing shall I make? 


Maybe to be human is to be an artist. 


Or dancer. 🙂

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