Woodstock and the Creative Process
I knew very little about the creative process in August of 1969 when I threw a change of clothes and a few things in a backpack, and jumped into Stan Reed’s 1962 Fairlane. The two of us headed north from Pennsylvania toward some remote farm in upstate New York. I had no idea that what was to transpire over the next few days would change my life… forever.
I was a lonely kid, somewhat of a social outcast, but nonetheless, a budding guitar player whose major fun and social activity was playing in a band with my buddies. We’d even dare an occasional public appearance for the high school dance or church teen social. I thought playing guitar was cool, and that maybe people (especially girls) would like me, if they would just notice my soul-bearing, string-bending talents. But aside from my teenage social angst and need for approval, there was something brewing inside… a spark was ignited… I felt something deep within as I would wail a pentatonic guitar solo to a Mike Bloomfield slow blues tune. I didn’t know what it was, but it felt good, and I knew I wanted to explore it further.
As Stan and I approached that upstate New York farm, we found ourselves still miles away, but stuck in a traffic jam the likes of which the rural county had never seen. Our only option was to pull the car off the road and walk the rest of the way. Which we did. Huffing and puffing, we reached the entrance to see that the fences had been torn down and the festival promoters had declared this to be a “free” concert (I still have my tickets!). As we came close to the top of the hill we could hear the soaring and very soothing voice of Joan Baez floating across the fields. We were joining with thousands of people like us—I had no idea that there were so many disenfranchised teenagers like Stan and I—and we walked together as if toward some yet unknown Mecca.
What we were to experience over the next 3 days would be nothing short of magic. We would become part of a vacant farm field transforming itself into a city of nearly half a million. However, the magic of Woodstock was not in the numbers, not in the fact that it became a free concert, but in what held it together… the glue. And that glue was the music, the creative process in action, connecting musician and audience member with a spirit of love and peace, something way beyond the physical. The amazing result of this spiritual connection was that in spite of pouring rain, slithering mud, and inadequate infrastructure, there were virtually no instances of violence… people got along! The Woodstock vision, “Three Days of Peace and Music” would prevail.
I knew in those soggy moments, that I would spend the rest of my life exploring the magic of Woodstock, which I would later come to know as Creativity.