#Autism and #Creativity: Learning from My Son’s Fixations

It starts, as with so many things these days, with YouTube and a scribble.

“What is that, Bash?” I whisper. We’re in church at the moment, and Bash kneels upon the floor, hunched in extreme concentration upon the paper in front of him. Normally he whispers to me for cough drops, for drinks of water, for trips to the bathroom, for paper to fold, for any number of things for he is Captain Fidgets every Sunday morning.

But not this day. This day, he furiously scribbles and erases and measures something. A water tower with eyes? There are vehicles and apparently lasers or bullets.

“It’s the Martians from War of the Worlds if they came to America instead of England.” His reply comes out in a stream of hisses that take me a few moments to decipher. And I really should be paying attention because a prayer is starting, but my curiosity overtakes me.

“But War of the Worlds took place in the America.”

“NO.” Oops. That was loud enough for the folks below to hear. At least Bash course-corrects quickly. “The first one was in England that Correra illustrated for the H.G. Wells story. The other ones were in America. That’s why MY picture has jeeps in it. If Correra Martians came to America.”

“Oh.” So of course I feel foolish at first for forgetting that, you know, Wells wasn’t American, but I hope you’ll forgive me. My mind always goes to the Orson Welles broadcast first—

–shortly followed by the 1953 classic film.

The original H.G. Wells story was first published in the 1890s, right around the time of my beloved Sherlock Holmes adventures. As far as I knew, Bash had never read the story. He’d never watched the films. Yet somewhere, somehow he had found this very specific version of the story that he was compelled to draw. Nothing, not even the promise of donuts in the fellowship hall, deterred him from finishing his latest sketch.

And who the heck’s Correra? I didn’t know of any Correra. Bo didn’t, either. “That’s not a name with the film, I know that much,” he said on the way home. (For Bo, there is only one film adaptation of War of the Worlds. Sorry, Mr. Spielberg.) “Hey Bash, Who’s Correra?”

“A Mexican illustrator. They came out a long time ago. I saw them on YouTube.” And that’s all we could get out of him. He needed to draw.

How wonderful that feeling is! When the story is so, so bloody strong that you must, you MUST gather as many words or scribbles as possible to share it. To hell with structure or grammar or format—the story, man, the story!

That’s what I see in my Bash when he draws. There is a moment within him he absolutely must get out. Nothing else matters. He draws these “water tower” Martians over and over, even rating them as better than other renditions, including one of my favorite illustrators, Edward Gorey.

Apparently, Spielberg’s version for his 2005 adaptation is the worst. (Sorry, Mr. Spielberg.)

It took a while, but Detective Bo and I finally uncovered the mysterious illustrator who had captured Bash’s imagination: Henrique Alvim Corrêa. He was a Brazillian illustrator, actually, who had loved Wells’ War of the Worlds so much that he made his own pictures and sent them to Wells for approval. Wells loved them and had Corrêa’s illustrations used for a French translation of War of the Worlds, which came out in 1906, just a few years before Corrêa’s death.

After even more detective work on Bo’s part, we found a printed edition of War of the Worlds with Corrêa’s illustrations to give Bash for his birthday. If you get a chance, do check these out.

They feel like steampunk before the concept of steampunk entered the human consciousness, the innovations of mankind already inspiring vivid imaginations to see metal and light and machination take unearthly shapes and dominate us.

Now granted, it doesn’t help that things like, oh, homework or, you know, chores tend to be left at the wayside for the sake of art.

But as a fellow creator, I get it. To so happily shirk all of life’s obligations for the sake of one’s art…

Don’t we all yearn for even just one day of that?

It would be a wonder indeed to escape life for a day and fixate upon that which fires up the soul. A passage through a wardrobe, perhaps, into a secret place where the time of reality means nothing. But a rare thing is also a precious thing. We tend to take what is in excess for granted.

And no one should ever take their creativity for granted.

Now it is time to be Mom, and sadly, that comes off as villainous to Bash the Artist.  I pull away the notebook and replace it with math homework.

“AAAAAAARGH!”

“I know, little dude, I know. But after this, you need to practice forensics for your stuffies and me.”

A teeny, tiny smirk creeps onto Bash’s face. He’s performing his own brief rendition of the classic Orson Welles radio broadcast, and can’t wait to theatrically collapse in front of an audience when the heat ray kills him. It’s not quite the same as showing the world his drawings, but it lets him tap into his fixation yet again, and that’s what matters.

May we all find those little ways to tap into our fixations, if only for a moment or two. Such are the precious moments that keep the fire to create alight.  

As for next week? It’s high time to check out a story and see if it can, in five pages, tell me it’s good. 🙂

Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!

32 comments

  1. ‘Fixations’ a splendid title, as is your son’s imagination. I remember similar chats with my kids when they were young. Your line, ‘This day, he furiously scribbles and erases and measures something’ I know it well. All the best, Mike.

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  2. How often do we walk away or sacrifice our fixations. Often it’s school, or the system or those around us who put blocks in our way. With Hawklad he had intense fixations, which often seemed to have no connections. History, F1 racing, birds of prayer, wrestling. He’s in a better place when he can let out his fixations and indulge his inner drives. xxxxxx

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    • YES, exactly. As you say, life really doesn’t allow for much time to create or explore unique fixations; in the rare moments those run parallel, we must take advantage while we can! xxxxx

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  3. It’s amazing how Bash’s imagination just takes over! His dedication to sketching those “water tower” Martians is so impressive, especially how he’s combined War of the Worlds with his own twist. It’s wonderful to see that creative spark in him, even if it means art takes priority over chores. The fact that you and Bo went on a detective mission to track down Henrique Alvim Corrêa’s illustrations is such a thoughtful touch. May we all find time to lose ourselves in our passions, just like Bash.

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  4. This is lovely – how one picture inspired his creativity and imagination that he also took the time to discover more about the numerous War of the Worlds offerings. Thank you for sharing such a moment, Jean:). Hope you are all keeping well.xxx

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    • Many thanks! Bash just told me yesterday he wants to make his own story about the Martians, only it’s not a WAR of the worlds this time, because the Martians will be friends with a boy named Martin. 🙂 Not sure what they’ll do with their lazer/heat-ray things, but I’m sure Bash’ll come up with something special. xxxxxxxxxx I hope you’re doing better, too!

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      • That sounds lovely:)). If you can get hold of a copy – there’s a wonderful story by Sophia McDougall called Mars Evacuees which might help fire up Bash’s imagination. Not only is it chockful of adventure, it’s also very, very funny. As for me – meh – I’m not doing so well. Wishing you and yours all the bestxxxxxxx

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