What are the keys to unlocking our creative potential?
For this post, my chosen allies in exploring some keys to creativity are John Cleese, Ian McCaig, and Amanda Palmer, whose talks provided me with lots of brain food on this topic. Each of these highly creative individuals is a writer, but not necessarily first or foremost such. I wasn’t setting out to include folks who were also performers, artists, musicians, but the fact that I ended up with them is instructive to me personally: at different times in my life I have been more into drawing and/or singing than I have been writing, but have not pursued these activities with any dedication because I suppose I have felt like I am just “adequate” at them, whereas I’ve come to think of writing as my creative forté. Yet I can, when I listen to these luminaries, see the folly in dropping these outlets from my life. I’m certain that having multiple media to work with, and perspectives to work from can only enhance one’s writing. In fact, I’m guessing that engaging in multiple disciplines may be rather like cross-training for one’s creative muscles.
To begin pondering the core aspects or principles of creativity, which I think are ultimately more important than particular techniques, let’s look at John Cleese’s 1991 lecture on the matter.
The Key to Creativity is Openness
The core of John Cleese’s lecture is the idea of the “open mode” versus the “closed mode” of thinking and operating. And the key here is that the open mode rests on an attitude of play: authentic play, not the half-assed, messing around wasting time sort of occupation that tries to pass for it, nor the mode in which you might relax an iota, enough to “think outside the box” for a few minutes to show how right-brained you can be on cue. He means the sort of dive-into-it play that children engage in with an utter lack of self-consciousness or concrete purpose, i.e. expansive thinking infused with curiosity, abandon, and delight. True play, he says, is experimenting, with no fear of making mistakes: “You’re either free to play or you’re not . . . any drivel might lead to the breakthrough.” Confidence, for Cleese, is exercising this freedom, that is, being completely unconcerned with getting it right and happy to entertain any and all ideas.
Besides confidence, he offers us four other elements that increase the likelihood of entering the open mode: Space, Time, (Pondering) Time, and Humor. The first two are basically the standard advice about creating a boundary between everyday life and activities and creative free play: you ideally want a designated place and allotted time (he recommends 1 1/2 hour chunks) to be openly creative. Why do we need this boundary? He reminds:
As we all know it’s easier to do trivial things that are urgent, than it is to do important things that are not urgent, like thinking, and it’s also easier to do little things we know we can do than to start on big things that we’re not so sure about.
The second aspect of time involves deferring creative decisions, sticking with the problem for a longer period, as long as you can. In his experience (and according to research on the matter) this leads to more inspired, higher quality work in the long run. Interestingly, I just watched a YouTube video about the Myers-Briggs functions of perceiving/judging that seems to align with Cleese’s open and closed modes. In this video, the presenter explains that the judging function is about planning, whereas the perceiving function is about receptivity. For Cleese, it should be noted, you do need the closed mode to follow through on what you came up with in the open mode. But first you need to play!
What exactly are we doing when we take our playful time? Keep bringing your mind to rest against the subject at hand when in open mode, he advises. In this way he says you’ll be rewarded by the unconscious, “if you’ve put in the pondering time first.”
Not surprisingly humor is also critical to Cleese. He is emphatic about humor not being the antithesis of seriousness; in fact, in its ability to create meaning by connecting different frames of reference in novel ways, humor is actually a quite serious tool for creative people. The enemy of humor for Cleese is solemnity, which he is downright allergic to!
There is much more to this brilliant and riveting lecture, including an abundance of light bulb jokes that underline what he’s saying about the value of humor and irreverence. Watch John Cleese’s “Lecture on Creativity”:
By the way, I was once attending a James Hillman talk in Santa Barbara and whispered to my friend and classmate: “That guy looks like John Cleese!” Guess why it looked so much like him? Yep, it was him. Seems he was a fan of the late Hillman, a complex thinker who originated archetypal psychology. I’d love to ask him what appeals to him in Hillman’s opus.
The Key to Creativity is Devotion: Ian McCaig
The interview with Ian McCaig is much less structured than Cleese’s lecture, but I gleaned from what he said and more importantly the zeal with which he said it, that devotion is for him the key to creativity and productivity both. My favorite quote:
It’s all about serving the story. I love stories almost more than anything. A good story can change your life, can make you transform as a person. You can pack your entire moral code into a story and live by it and it reminds you . . . it’s like a piece of music: you listen to it, and you’re reset, you’re suddenly you again.
True, isn’t it? This attitude of devotion to and love of story (an attitude lacking in Hollywood’s big budget “fun park” movies, as he explains later) appears to inoculate him against the fear of failure that is the usurper of Cleese’s open mode, and the undoing of so many would-be creatives. When the interviewer asks him where he gets his “resilience to how life beats us around” through failure and rejection he winces and says:
It’s perception I guess because I don’t see life beating me. I don’t feel like I’m resilient to it. The many hundreds of drawings I did for the Darth Mauls that didn’t get approved are still my drawings. They’re still done. I judge whether they’re good or bad. George Lucas’ opinion of that will simply tell me which one was right for his film. But the other ones were all right in their own ways. And it doesn’t matter what other people think, it matters what you think. So life feels more like a giant candy store, and all this opportunity, all these things you can do . . . I can’t imagine getting tired of that, ever!
This sounds like a guy who knows how to play, right? In fact, play seems like his chief M.O., although at the start of the interview he describes learning to draw through tireless repetition. With McCaig, the energy for all this play and all this practice comes from this deep affection for story, character, image, music, and his flagrant love affair with possibility.
On the practical side, he describes some great techniques and tools that are designed to foster originality and depth. In particular I loved the discussion about physical theater, and how it can be used for character building–I can see this being totally applicable to fiction writing (non-fiction too, I suppose) where we want to show a character’s personality through posture, gesture, and movement.
I plan on re-watching this interview when I need a reviving shot of enthusiasm for the creative life, and a reminder about the point of working creatively: to serve the story, to devote oneself to it, and to have a boatload of fun while doing so. Watch Ian McCaig on “The Art of Visual Storytelling”:
The Key to Creativity is Connection: Amanda Palmer
Watching this TED talk by Amanda Palmer was for me like getting a swift kick in the mindset. I’ve been researching how to market self-published books online, immersing myself in instructions that are essentially about, as Palmer says, how to make people pay for creative products. For her this is the wrong approach: she now looks for ways to let people pay. Thus she uses crowd sourcing venues like Kickstarter to fund projects, and gives away a lot of stuff, of course getting flack for it from the traditionally-minded. But her rationale for her approach, I think, is both heart-centered and sensible: the change from make to let is a huge one, since making someone do something for you is inherently setting up an uneven, adversarial relationship between creator and consumer, while letting someone do something for you is just the opposite–it’s about real connection through equal exchange. I love this anecdote of Palmer’s about “just asking” for help:
I once tweeted where in Melbourne could I find a neti pot, and a nurse from a hospital drove one right at that moment to the café I was in and I bought her a smoothie and we sat there talking about nursing and death. I love this kind of random closeness.
Beyond or behind the desire to make money at making art, and alongside the devotion to make art for its own sake, which was so vividly championed in McCaig’s interview, I think most of us who are writing, making music, painting etc. want to touch other people and connect with them through our work. I remember reading a story of mine to a group of about fifteen other people at a workshop and having someone come up to me with tears in her eyes afterwards, thanking me for it because of how it had resonated with her. This made a profound impression on me, and I thought to myself that even if no one else in the world saw any value in it, the fact that my story was so meaningful to her meant it was worth writing and worth sharing. So it’s not, after all, about having a broad audience and appealing to everyone–touching one other person is enough for me!
What Palmer is talking about is an outward-focused openness and trust that is the counterpart to Cleese’s inward-focused receptivity to ideas. As a died-in-the-wool introvert, the outward connection piece feels tougher for me, even though I need it. I won’t be crashing at any strangers’ houses anytime soon! Nonetheless I do want to give serious thought about freely giving things away, and asking for help and support. I’m guessing a lot of what I write will have a fairly narrow audience, and I’m jazzed that as publishing and marketing paradigms radically shift, this may very well work out fine:
For most of human history, musicians, artists, they’ve been part of the community, connectors and openers, not untouchable stars. Celebrity is about a lot of people loving you from a distance, but the internet and the content we’re freely able to share on it are taking us back. It’s about a few people loving you up close, and about those people being enough.
Watch Amanda Palmer’s “The Art of Asking” video:
The Soul of Creativity
I think these three keys to creativity help to unlock the soul of creativity. Openness, devotion (or passion) and connection are all things we seek to make us feel more alive, more authentically ourselves. When we make use of these keys we are awake and aware observers and creators of meaning, not our usual sleepwalker selves going about our mindless routines. Trust is a big part of using these keys: Cleese teaches us to trust the inner creator of the unconscious, McCaig invites us to trust our judgment about the value of what we create, and Palmer gives us permission to trust the other people who make up our “audience” and, perhaps, to trust that the soul of creativity and the business of it may be brought into harmony.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this rather long post. In the spirit of just asking, I would love some feedback and discussion around it, so please comment!