I’m convinced that every person is creative and wants to do creative work. Unfortunately, that’s often harder said than done. Enter: books like The Practice by Seth Godin, which was recommended to me from an artist friend of mine and is comprised of a list of about two hundred pieces of advice on how to create and publish artwork.
Throughout the book, Godin challenges people to actually do the creative work they want to do and to toss excuses to the wind. He has a knack for identifying, with great precision, specific flaws in our logic that prevent us from moving forward in the work—and often I found myself “called out” in my fear of actually doing the creative things I want to do. One piece that stood out to me in particular is how we’re not really “doing the work” if we stay safe and fail to push ourselves, but we also stop doing the work if we feel like we don’t have the skills to actually achieve the vision. If we stay lazy, our work sucks. If we stop ourselves because we feel we’re incapable of living up to the idea of what we want, our work doesn’t happen at all.That has me written all over it.
One of the other parts I really like about The Practice is when Godin talks about decisions and outcomes—especially as it relates to the the idea of process versus product. Godin writes that “There is a huge gap between a good decision and a good outcome.” He continues that “a good decision is based on what we know of the options and the odds. A good outcome happens or doesn’t. It is a consequence of the odds, not the hidden answer.” I appreciate his commitment to actually doing something, even if it’s not perfect. In a pretty extreme example, Godin talks about how “a good process doesn’t guarantee the outcome you were hoping for, [and] a good outcome is separate for what happens next.” He continues with the idea of someone choosing whether to fly or drive. Flying is statistically safer. You might know someone who dies in a plane crash, but “they didn’t make a bad decision when they chose to fly. There was certainly a bad outcome, though.” We can make the right decision and it still might not pan out, or, in Godin’s words: “Decisions are good, even if outcomes aren’t.” He makes the explicit connection to valuing the process, “even if the particular work doesn’t resonate, even if the art doesn’t sell, even if you aren’t happy with the reaction from the critics.”
All of this also relates to the idea of getting reassurance from others. The process is itself the thing, the work is secondary. If you’re hoping for a particular result (i.e. in terms of response), “reassurance is futile and focusing on outcomes at the expense of process is a shortcut that will destroy your work.”
I also appreciate the way Godin characterizes art. It feels like so often there’s a clear difference between “art” and “content” akin to the difference between “music” and “muzak.” In part, art serves as a gift. It is an act of generosity, similar to how Anne Lamont characterizes writing as a gift in Bird by Bird. However, the gift is not a comfortable gift. When characterizing what artists do, Godin suggests that “artists actively work to create a sense of discomfort in their audience,” which certainly rings true for the artists that have spoken most to me. Godin continues, “Discomfort engages people, keeps them on their toes, makes them curious. Discomfort is the feeling we all get just before change happens.” When combining the idea of discomfort and generosity, Godin suggests that “this new form of hospitality, of helping people change by taking them somewhere new, can make us personally uncomfortable as well.” As an artist, Godin suggests in a really beautiful passage:
It might feel easier to simply ask people what they want and do that instead. Choosing to offer only comfort undermines the work of the artist and the leader. Ultimately, it creates less impact and less hospitality as well. Your discomfort is no excuse for being inhospitable. Our practice is to bring a practical empathy to the work, to realize that in our journey to create change, we’re also creating discomfort for our audience and for ourselves. And that’s okay.
This is one of those things where it is hard to address in yourself (err….myself). I have a particular “style” that has developed in my poetry, for example, that I adhere to. I’m nervous about branching out, but who am I challenging in doing the same thing over and over? The sense of risk needs to be there in order to make it exciting again.
Another excuse that Godin points out that resonates with me is the idea of building domain knowledge and getting credentials as a way of avoiding doing the work. Here I am reading nearly a book or two a week while I’m not writing even one or two pages of my own work. There’s this compulsion to know everything before starting anything. It’s an outgrowth of that need for approval of your product. Godin writes, “Desire for external approval undermines your desire to trust yourself; you hand it over to an institution instead. Institutions have no magical powers.” But, Godin continues, “You don’t need a permit to speak up, to solve an interesting problem; or to lead. [...] The system established credentials to maintain the consistency of our industrial output, but over time they’ve been expanded to create a roadblock, a way to slow down those who would seek to make change happen.” I appreciate the way that creative work is linked to the idea of capitalism and the systems that force us into productivity and consumption rather than exploration. The idea that we all need credentials is “a form of signalling, a stalling device, an also a way to keep diversity down.” He notes how “famous colleges need to enforce the regime of compliance and scarcity, so they seek our cooperation and belief to build their reputation. [...] That desire is about credentialing, the magic power a famous institution has to bless us with status and authority.” Systems are established to deselect, fail to mould, and refuse to amplify the people that want to make change happen, and I recognize in myself the desire to be credentialed despite its obvious shortcomings.
There’s a comfort in Godin’s work. Despite my need to feel mastery over the artistic process before beginning, I also resonate with Godin’s idea that “domain knowledge opened the door to understanding what might work.” When creating work, “the point is not to copy, but to avoid copying” and even “our best commercial work reminds people of what they’ve seen before.” Take that, Harold Bloom and your “anxiety of influence.” There’s a beautiful phrase that I think encapsulates so many things about the kind of art work we do: “Creativity doesn’t repeat itself, but it rhymes.”
So, it’s time to rhyme. It’s time to create. Happy reading!
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