I've been thinking lately about creativity. I guess if you know me, or have been reading here for a while, that's not going to be much of a shock to you.
It's been simmering for ages, but there are a couple things that have triggered me to consider it more closely in the last little while. First, I had a friend send me some pictures, one of which I did a quick edit on and sent back. She hadn't asked me to, but had said, "I wish I could just airbrush this guy out" (and no, it wasn't me; thanks for asking), and I thought, well, I can do that. So I did, and tweaked the contrast, saturation, and some of the colors at the same time.
It didn't take too long, but she was surprised to get it, I think, and seemed happy with the result. It made me wonder why. Not why she was happy; it did look better after being edited than it did before... of course, all of my pictures look better after being edited than they did before, too. Unless you really mess up in photoshop (which is always a possibility), any picture should look at least a little better after you've worked on it.
What it made me wonder was why, after opening it, it was so instinctive for me to edit it, rather than just to enjoy it for what it was. Back to that in a minute.
The second thing is when I was driving home from the museum in Lausanne on Saturday afternoon. I was thinking about shooting some pictures with friends that evening, and how the light was going to be. "It's going to be a beautiful evening," I said.
And then it hit me. "Going to be"? It already was a beautiful afternoon. Why was I already in the evening?
Well, the truth was that I wasn't really already in the evening... but I did give it just a short visit. My capacity to live in the moment is miles - lifetimes - beyond what it used to be. But still, I notice that I feel a strong pull not only towards what is in the future, but what is, in general, potential or possibility, over what is now. It's a hallmark of people with my kind of temperament. I know that it needs to be balanced, and that I need to find beauty and peace and meaning in what is. That said, I like this about myself, and I'm not really in any hurry to "fix" it.
One of the ways that it works itself out is in how I approach the pictures I take or the music I play. I love to open myself up to the possibilities... to seek a deeper and deeper beauty, to pull meaning and nuance out of things that are, at first sight, nothing more than a whisper of potential. What would it sound like with a French horn? What if I could make her eyes so intense they felt like they're coming off the page? What if...? It happens when I see things on the street around me, when I see a picture from a friend, when I hear a simple melody on the piano.
I know that I can never enjoy that simple melody the way some other people can. They can hear it and just rest in it... there is no lack, nothing missing, nothing more to do. I wish, sometimes, that I had that, but I don't. I hear what's not there. Sometimes, it's frustrating beyond description. But it also means that, sometimes, I can create what is beyond what's already there. I can take the picture. I can build the beat. I can add the vocal. I lose, sometimes, on what I could enjoy; but I wouldn't give up what I gain for anything.
But I also wonder: how does it impact my relationships with people around me? Where is the balance between enjoying and appreciating someone for who they are now and encouraging them and looking forward to who they could be? I guess that one obvious problem is when the person in question has no interest in either discovering or becoming that "could be"... well, that's not going to help either of us. But I don't usually keep many people like that close to me, now. At times, it seems somehow false to love what isn't yet there; at the same time, it seems almost criminal to just accept what is when the what could be is so much more. Where do hope and faith fit in with human relationships? When is it wrong to believe in someone for what they could become? When is it wrong not to?
The challenge, I guess, is to live in the moment enough to really live, and to really love. But, at the same time, to yearn and long for and seek out what could be enough to be able to bring it into the world of what really is. That's where (and what) I want to be.
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12 comments:
The impossibility of fully appreciating the present when the imagined is so much more compelling is *the* struggle of my life. Also strikingly true of many of the artists (musicians, dancers, writers, painters etc.) I have known and loved (worked with). And, I think, the source of much escapist addiction and/or religious passion in many bright creative types.
I personally have yet to find the right balance. But am increasingly unwilling to do so . . .
Though living in technicolor can be exhausting sometimes.
My cats breath smells like cat food.
Try . . . dog food? Or those ginger altoids. I hear those are good.
Together in the struggle . . .
::fist in the air, head bowed::
Michelle
Michelle, I'm pretty sure that it's a large part of what originates (or at least facilitates) a creative drive. I think I want to learn more about it... like you say, it can be exhausting. But can you imagine, now, going without?
And Nicole, I'm just not going to take that. You can't tell me this isn't something you've thought about... I'm callin' you out, girl!
I can't tell you how much I sympathize... or how relieving it is to hear that other people (you) do that too. I mean, I know they exist. I have Myers-Briggs for breakfast and I study psychology for cry it out loud! But still. I know exactly what you mean. Ever wondered why H. likes to call me Little Miss Acoustic? Me and my acoustifications... You and your BGVs *smirk*
I find that you can find balance if you want to and enjoying things just the way they are ain't so bad even though it might be counter-iNtuitive (= It just takes training. Repeated exposer to the original (art, music, fill in the blank) also helps to gradually take in what's there. Which my brother (ESFP) does before going on to changing (improving?) it. I admire that. And I'm trying to do it myself. It's been a good lesson.
Well, you may want to be careful about how much comfort you derive from matching up to me, psychologically. I'm not a mess, but I'm also a long ways from normal.
I hear you about repeated exposure, but I'm not sure I like it, at least in terms of art. I don't think I want to get used to the original if I risk losing the vision in the process. That's why I would often prefer not to hear a song at all (or only once) before starting to work through it with a band. I want to be free to explore without being burdened by what someone else has done.
Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying mine is always better. But if I do mine first, I can go back to theirs and see if I should use it. If I get too used to their version first, I may never be able to really capture my own. And that terrifies me.
All rules are off for pop music, though. It's a whole different game...
haha. Well, pop is pop. But fear not, I honestly believe that repeated exposer to the original wouldn't have any contaminating effects on your creative persona (=
For me it makes a pretty significant difference. The less of the original I know, the more freedom I have in creating around it. Taken to an extreme, I may have an idea only of the mood for a song, and end up playing something in a completely different time signature or feel. But the more I hear of what someone else has done with it, the less vivid my own "version" becomes... as theirs gets closer, mine gets further away.
It doesn't mean I can't still arrange a tune I've heard a million times. But I can't do it as easily (or, probably, as well) as I could the first time through.
Anyone else think that this mindset to create and improve things can also manifest itself by glorifying the past?
In the brilliant words of Kashmir "The everyday just can't compete / with the beauty of a Polaroid. / The fairytale endures complete... "
I have to watch out for that too.
Whew, finally the testosterone represents!!
Definitely. Airbrush out all the bad stuff and get really emotional or overidealistic about the good parts...
That's why we have friends to remind us that the ex put us through a lot of grief, or that you really complained a whole lot while you lived in that one city you now can't wait to get back to.
I have my own thoughts on this... mostly theologically and relationally speaking. Will add later.
That's interesting... I really don't have that tendency, and I think there are three things that make me a future-oriented kind of guy.
I have a really good imagination, but kind of dodgy memory. I don't know if my preference to look to the future comes from that, or if that comes from me looking at the future. But that's the first part of it.
It's kind of hard to explain, but a lot of my past has been stolen, or, at least, lost. The moments that would seem like the ones most likely for me to go back and try to embellish are the ones that, now, I have the least certainty were anything like I thought they were at the time. Honestly, when your first kiss, your wedding day, or the birth of your child become tainted, there's not much temptation to dwell in the past. What could be there that I would want to relive?
And then there's the whole question of potential... the past may have some moments of potential achieved, but compared to the future possibilities... no contest. For me, there's little difference, sometimes, between what could be and what will be, and it lets me move forward expecting incredible things. Escapist? Maybe. Optimistic? Certainly. Full of hope and faith? Yes. So, so different from the past...
I don't think it's escapist. For some it might be, but not in your case.
Optimistic? It's a matter of survival. You have to be. (Honestly, I don't understand how pessimists make it through life happy.) And thankfully, you were blessed with a natural bent that way. As was I... to a fault, at risk of not being realistic enough.
Hope and faith? I think that takes a measure of spiritual discipline, especially in the dark moments when things aren't working as smoothly as we wanted. I know God has given me certain promises to hang on to, but I still have to choose to believe that He really did that and will come through, and I have to exercise faith to act on those promises and not be passive myself. I also have to choose to believe the absolute best about God's character and bank on that.
As far as a stolen or lost past, there is still much to be thankful for. One I know for sure: the promise of the "older son" is for Israel, and I believe also for those who have obediently followed Jesus all their lives. "My son, you are always with Me, and everything I have is yours."
What a huge promise. I'm holding on to it with both hands.
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