themeds replied to your post: I don’t think creativity is this mythical beast….

Creativity can’t always be explained, but neither can the surgeon’s precision or the teacher’s patience, etc. What she is claiming kind of makes the creative person seem elite.

I think those things can be explained. Not all teachers are patient, some surgeons are a bit sloppy and have other people taking care of what they can’t bother with. Personality and training make up for a lot, even if in some cases you need good eyesight or balance or manual ability in fingers in order to do the expression and evolve creatively in a field.

Of course it is elitism, Elizabeth Gilbert’s version of divine intervention is that of a lazy privileged hack that also panders to the masses. If you believe this it could happen to you. It’s the same thing as poor people voting republican, they believe it’s a question of  ”when” and not “if.”

Before they’re able to live on it, authors struggle. I’m sure even Dan Brown worked hard on (heh) his first paper-wrapped crap, struggling and never giving up when there was no gift from above. Because that what you do. Creativity never comes to idle people except perhaps once or twice.

I don’t think creativity is this mythical beast. This is something that make me despise the drivel that was Elizabeth Gilbert’s TED-talk. It’s all down to hard work and being open to possibilities. (It’s also about finding a medium for oneself but this isn’t about that because that one can be very hard. And yes, I think that being in front of a camera can be as much creative medium as behind it even in still photography.)

Even though I can feel overly creative and it coming out of my ears, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m boxed in. I  am not a person who do leaps of imagination into areas that blows people’s minds. It’s not something I lament, it’s a fact that I’m far more of an illustrator or concept artist than a “true” artist (what ever that means) no matter what field I work in. 

Take this for example. If I may say so, I’m pretty good at photography but I’m the person who finds someone suddenly picking up a fistful of pistachios a wonderful subject. The spontaneity is my field there. I don’t do complex portraits where I think long and hard on small details, and while I could probably come up with great staging if I put my mind to it it’s not something my heart’s into. No matter how much I love the photographic poetry of Francesca Woodman or Eugéne Atget it’s not something I can do. It’s not in my box just as a few other things — like stock photography which is just impossible, it’s funny that the soul crushing genre is also one of the hardest.

Same thing with all other fields. It’s not a sad thing, not at all. It’s just who I am. Being true to oneself and follow the heart is the important thing when making things because I think it’s leaves obvious marks on the result. Now that I’ve written this, I think I see that the mundane is my field as well as the half fiction/documentaries of Werner Herzog. There’s a poetry there as well, but not as explicit and because of that a bit more rare and rugged.

One thing that’s deeply fascinating is what people classify as private. It’s more apparent here than on screw-the-users-places like Facebook and it makes it clear that the social web has a long way to go and that there needs to be more choices with real differences. Sort of a pick and choose you own adventure but with content. No one has the same definition, no one shares things to the same degree. What’s deeply personal to me isn’t for you, not completely even though mostly we do agree on certain conventions imposed by society, upbringing and well, weather?

Some very private people may post nude photographs of themselves while at the same time feel anxiety about writing about their thoughts and days. For me, it’s the opposite. I’m not comfortable with myself enough to be naked except in special circumstances that almost never happen. At the same time I’m pretty open about my depression. Perhaps too open even if I hesitate to write about thoughts on suicide — they have happened — but even that feels easier to do than photos of my chest. Too me, even GPOYW is about learning to like myself.

I think what I’m trying to say is this: I’m thankful that there isn’t a faux-privacy option like Facebook or bolted shut like Livejournal here. That you have to decide what to share and not, I think it makes it more personal somehow. It’s less about catering to a select few and more about actually reaching out. Cryptic is good and can blow minds of people it’s not intended for. I don’t want to hide for half the world I inhabit — even if I might hide for the other half, the one that’s flesh and bones and cheese.

The “friends only” is one of a few reasons why Livejournal and me never clicked. I have friends who use it but I haven’t logged in to read for years. Locked away one-way content is not for me in any direction. That’s what mail is for.

Just to have something to do I updated and reorganised things on the portfolio. This is a bit harder than it should be but I like Indexhibit anyway (I hope there’s a new version soon though.) Added things about prints and the title on some of the drawings — just some, that too is a bit time-consuming and a bit like an old point-and-click adventure. (I miss those. Perhaps ought to play Monkey Island 2 SE…)

I’d love a Barks’ Burger right now, or some falafel. And some company. I think I’d be more content then.