Years ago I was at Disneyland in California with my family, taking a lunch break between rides. As I sipped my drink and watched the crowd passing by, I spotted someone I recognized: Ron Moore, creator of the TV series Battlestar Galactica. I was a huge BSG fan who was sad the series had ended. Starstruck, I abandoned all vestige of a chill New Yorker who sees and ignores celebrities, and I ran up to him to thank him for the show. He was kind and gracious–and said something I never forgot.
The trick to being truly creative, I’ve always maintained, is to be completely unselfconscious. To resist the urge to self-censor. To not-give-a-shit what anybody thinks. That’s why children are so good at it. And why people with Volkswagens, and mortgages, Personal Equity Plans and matching Louis Vuitton luggage are not.
– Art director Linds Redding in a classic viral essay about his 30 years in advertising. Following his cancer diagnosis, Redding passed away at the age of 52.
Writer Ann Patchett describes the idea she has for her next project as a beautiful, wild butterfly fluttering about her mind, a three dimensional miracle of color and movement she enjoys for as long as she can.
When it’s time to put pen to paper, she plucks the butterfly from her mind, smashes it onto her desk, and pins it down. What’s left is her book: a flat, one-dimensional, “dismantled, and poorly reassembled” version of her butterfly.
No one wants to smash the butterfly, but it’s the only way to turn an idea into something tangible.
When you focus on maximizing productivity, you inhibit creativity. In many ways, productivity and creativity are at odds.
Productivity is all about getting stuff done more efficiently: completing tasks and projects to meet your obligations and be successful. Capitalism relies on ever-increasing levels of human productivity. It always asks: What is the most value you can bring with the least amount of time and effort?
The novel I’m currently reading reminded me of this useful concept for creatives called “the taste gap.” It’s the idea is that there’s a difference between what you want to create and what you are able to create. It’s the reason why a lot of creative projects stall and never get made. Most people give up trying when they see how vast and disappointing and insurmountable the gap seems.
Ira Glass explains:
All of us who do creative work get into it because we have good taste. But there’s a gap. That for the first couple years that you’re making stuff, what you’re making isn’t good. But your taste is still killer. And because of your taste, you can tell what you’re making is kind of a disappointment to you. A lot of people never get past that phase. A lot of people at that point quit.
Glass’s advice? Do a huge volume of work. Keep practicing, and your abilities will start to catch up to your taste.
I like Mandy Brown’s twist on this: that practice increases your competence which in turn elevates your taste. Therefore, making things cultivates rather than closes the taste gap–and that’s where the joy of making stuff is.
Brown writes:
As you build your craft, whether it’s writing or radio or glass blowing or leading a team, you develop ever more ideas about what’s possible in your work. As your skill grows, so too do your ambitions, such that your taste always and forever outstrips your abilities. For every increment of improvement, you extend your desires out that much further. This is not to say you will never be satisfied with your work—although, that is a not uncommon scenario, and not necessarily as dreary as it sounds. But rather that as you become more capable, you are wont to find as much joy and satisfaction in the process of developing your skill as in the outcomes of it.
The work of creativity, at the end of the day, is the work of creativity—not what you create, but who you become in the act of creation.
Emphasis mine. Who do you become in the act of creation? More you. A more true you.
