Clocked Chaos and W. H. Auden

The poet W. H. Auden was scruffy in person, and astonishingly messy in his domestic habits. (His signature side table look: 'books, periodicals, half-emptied coffee cups, scummed over with cream, a dash of cigarette ashes for good measure, and a heel of French bread'.) Yet he ran his apartment in New York to a strict timetable. 'He checks his watch over and over again,' noted a guest. 'Eating, drinking, writing, shopping, crossword puzzles, even the mailman's arrival – all are timed to the minute with accompanying routines.' 'Routine,' declared Auden, 'in an intelligent man, is a sign of ambition.' 

We are all engaging in routine activities continually without necessarily thinking much about them – getting up and washing and dressing, etc. But beyond these, there is the possibility of carefully cultivated routines like Auden's. I've been dwelling on the idea of them this month because I decided, (over?) ambitiously, to take part in an art challenge (one painting a day through October in response to a word prompt) and I have been both creatively productive and extremely harried because of the resulting tight timetabling.  

My conclusion, a week in, is that a curated routine is not ideal – at least for me. Whether we are talking about a creative routine or something more domestic like a laundry or cooking routine, there is much to be said for allowing the mind to spool out in whatever direction it likes. Reveries, inefficiencies, serendipitous thoughts and digressions are all to the good – after all, our lives are not aimed at maximal efficiency (I don't think). One painting a day, it turns out, does not allow much free ranging (or quite enough sleep) – though it is very good in terms of tangible achievement. Without any routine at all, one might get lost in dreamland and never put paint to paper / finish putting away the washing.

What matters, perhaps, is finding the approach that best suits your character. Auden the habitually disorderly needed a strict timetable in order to be productive (the critic Matthew Bevis describes his poetry as arising out of 'clocked chaos', which I love). Overly anxious about punctuality, and already hemmed in by the commitments and timetables of family life, I am thinking that next year I should plan a month of totally unclocked creative chaos.

 Best wishes for an October taken at whatever pace is right for you,

 Anna xx

 P.S. If you'd like an inexpensive piece of original art - perhaps planning early for Christmas? – the paintings from this month (all 5 x 5 inches, gouache, ink and pencil on 300gsm watercolour paper) are £65 - £80. They'll be in my website shop at the end of the month, but you can reserve them now by dropping me a line. You can zoom in and see more on my Instagram.