Your One Precious Creative Life
No matter how engaged we are in our creative work, occasionally we find ourselves asking “Why am I doing this?” This question comes up regardless of how much recognition we’re getting for our work or how successful the work has been in the marketplace. It’s natural and necessary to wonder what you’re doing with your one precious life. Not to occasionally pause to consider this question means you’re living an unexamined life. And as Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” It never pays to argue with Socrates…
Lost in all the noise around us is the proven truth about creativity: it’s the result of desire—the desire to find a new truth, solve an old problem, or serve someone else. Creativity is a choice, it’s not a bolt of lightning from somewhere else.
— Seth Godin, The Practice
This article explores three related aspects of developing your creative identity: the creative impulse, the edges of your creative frame, and saving ourselves from “the poverty of our intentions.”
The Creative Impulse
Creative work satisfies an itch. If you ask an artist why they make art, many will answer “Because I have to… I don’t have a choice.” Some will then add something like “I have ideas I need to express,” or “Art is how I make sense of my life.” What distinguishes those who make art from those who only dream about creating art is those who make art do the work required to satisfy the itch. Art doesn’t just happen, it’s made.
It’s impossible to catalog all the impulses that drive creative work—that’s one reason creativity is an infinitely renewable resource. Below you’ll find a list I compiled as I researched the creative motivations mentioned by various artists. As you read the list, pay attention to the impulses that resonate for you.
A need to express an idea
A need to express an emotion
A determination to understand yourself
A determination to understand others and/or the world around you
A desire to honor a deity or spirit, or create an object required for religious practice
A need to remember or memorialize
An obsession with the medium and a desire to master the craft of working in the medium
A yearning to make something beautiful
A passion for the process of making art
A passion for the finished object
A determination to drive change
A determination to rebel
An aspiration or need for the potential rewards of making art (fame, money, status)
An inclination to avoid doing something else
Which of these impulses resonated most for you? Is there an impulse that isn’t on the list that drives your work?
It’s important to note that these impulses aren’t mutually exclusive: your work can be driven by a single impulse, or a combination of impulses—for example the need to express an emotion and a desire to remember. You may even feel a connection to many kinds of creative impulses—that’s not unusual. The important thing is to look inside, to understand the impulses that motivate you, and to embrace the complexity and ambiguity of your inner life.
Where Are the Edges of Your Frame?
There’s a second aspect of the drive to create that also influences your work:
Do you work ‘inside’ or ‘outside’? To work inside is to deal with the internal conditions of the work—the melodies, the rhythms, the textures, the lyrics, the images: all the normal day-to-day things one imagines an artist does. To work outside is to deal with the world surrounding the work—the thoughts, assumptions, expectations, legends, histories, economic structures, critical responses, legal issues and so on and on. You might think of these things as the frame of the work.
—Brian Eno, A Year With Swollen Appendices
Where you work is part of your “creative DNA,” a term the choreographer Twyla Tharp uses in her book The Creative Habit to describe the “strands of creative code hard-wired into our imaginations.” Tharp believes that your creative DNA plays a role in determining your medium (for example, why you’re a photographer, not a writer), the story arcs you’re drawn to, and how you see (frame) the world around you:
When I apply a critic’s temperament to myself, to see if I’m being true to my DNA, I often think in terms of focal length, like that of a camera lens. All of us find comfort in seeing the world either from a great distance, at arm’s length, or in close-up. We don’t consciously make that choice. Our DNA does, and we generally don’t waver from it. Rare is the painter who is equally adept at miniatures and epic series, or the writer who is at home in both historical sagas and finely observed short stories.
—Twyla Tharp, The Creative Habit
Traditionally, most artists have worked inside the frame, but as Eno notes: “this is not true of much modern art, or of almost any popular culture, where the edges of the work are often so fluid that we don’t know where they are—or they don’t stay in just one place.”
The moving edges of art create opportunity and confusion. The canvas for creating art is now infinite. Artists like Andy Warhol, David Bowie, Lady Gaga, Banksy, Marina Abramović, Kara Walker, Ai Weiwei, and Amanda Palmer have all widened (and sometimes smashed) the frame that has traditionally separated their art from their life. They’ve changed where we look for their creative expression—which may now be everywhere… But the fact that there are no longer any boundaries also means that where you work is now a choice. Where you draw the boundary between your life and work is up to you.
The creative impulses you respond to, your creative DNA, and where you work are all essential to your development as an artist. Together, they drive the artistic medium you work in, your creative vision, your work process, and even your approach to individual projects. The order in which these three things influence your development isn’t set in stone, but at some point, you have to understand what motivates you as an artist, how you engage with your creativity, and where the boundaries lie between your art and your life (if there is a boundary).
Saving Ourselves from "the Poverty of Our Intentions"
I went into the business for money and the art grew out of it. If people are disillusioned by that remark, I can’t help it. It’s the truth.
—Charlie Chaplin, Academy Award acceptance speech, 1972
Our creative work can lift us above our impulses and intentions. Chaplin went into acting and filmmaking for the money and his skill, artistry, vision, and empathy led him to creative heights he hadn’t yet imagined. The process of making films drove his work beyond the goal line of his initial intention.
The sculptor Elizabeth King describes the benefits of disciplined creativity beautifully: “Process saves us from the poverty of our intentions.” Her statement calls to mind three self-imposed limiting beliefs that corral our creativity:
Our belief in the inadequacy of our imagination
Our belief in the limits of our skill
Our belief in the limits of our chosen medium
Making art creates the opportunity for us to rise above our limited beliefs and their impact on our intentions. It’s in the work itself that we discover the unforeseen possibilities in our intentions. The world Chaplin created in his films dwarfed the scope of his initial impulse and intent. Your commitment to your creative process, to making art can help you grow beyond your own limiting beliefs.
I’m giving the director Cecil B. DeMille the final credit: “Creativity is a drug I cannot live without.”