Resurrected at last, 'we' challenge and question whereabouts the perfect work setting came from and how obsession, distractions and idealisation might be a monster mistake... When it comes to getting ‘creative,’ there’s a certain tendency for aesthetic. The lighting must be just right, the setting ideal. When a romantic cabin in the wilderness isn’t an option, we opt for a few candles in a distraction-less room where we can stare at the wall in frustration in peace. We consider our creative forefathers, the great predominate few who paved the way before us and, as the kettle boils, attempt to recreate the formula. Where possible we sit and stare, looking contemplatively out of the candlelit window with our next masterpiece hanging on the first quill scratch. Now, I haven’t bought a quill (yet) but I will admit to lighting a candle and dreaming of creative notoriety. But I’ve done the turn of the century approved nature walk in hunt of inspiration whilst multi-tasking my mindfulness quota for the day. And then of course, there’s this blog which is allowing me to romantically, millennially shout into the wind. The Romantic Obsession For anyone who’s studied English, the Romantics really do tug at the heart strings. Developments in literature, art and music between the late 18th and early 19th century left society in a stupor by influencing how we view, appreciate and create as artists. Romanticism takes its ethos from the full power of nature, imagination and emotion. (Picture a lot of art with big collar dudes standing on rocks and looking wistfully into the distance, probably writing poetry and you get the picture.) Back then, Romanticism had the world getting all hot and bothered about rainstorms and we’ve thankfully evolved since into Modernism and other ‘isms’ that use alterior methods to shake the world from its roots and challenge everything. We pick and prod at creativity now from new angles and try to see from the less mainstream points of view, but for some, the idea place or impression of art-making still lurks within a late 18th century mentality. Just imagine. You find some time in your day to sit down to work. But you know, it’s not work… it’s all play… it’s for you but don’t forget to take it seriously else you could be cursed with endless drabble (keep reading if you love drabble, folks.) Your teabag, Red Bull, coffee blend that you whack out for special occasions is sitting and bubbling, sizzling nicely to your left and the paper or white screen equivalent beckons in the candlelight. You’re almost relaxed and ready for the winter cabin bolt of inspiration to ignite you like Frankenstein’s creature did for old Mary. You may have even turned off your phone, but then where will you be without thesaurus.com? All the blistering ideas which have haunted your working day await now you have the pen/pad to collect them all and you stare, and stare. And contemplate buying new stationary. Ye Olde Distraction I am not the first, nor the last to admit that these days… we’re all a little distracted. As has been the same for all generations, life is moving far too fast for us to even get to grips with and then there’s jobs, family, friends and birthday presents to buy to really pile up the old plate of woes. Social media is the enemy, we all spend too much time on our phones (‘but I’m using a writing app I swear…’) and screens in general, Big Brother is truly watching us and the news is enough to scare anyone into submission. But that’s not to say, back then, people weren’t distracted either. Poverty, poor medicine and inequality were the flavour of the day in the late eighteenth century and the latest innovation was the steam engine, not the latest iPhone so there’s no excuse there. So what’s the problem? The main striking difference for creatives now is isolation. Despite ‘social’ media allegedly bringing us together the pressure and expectation designates our loneliness and feeling of inadequacy. Would poets in the quiet of their countryside study have made such waves if they had their competitors and their work at their fingertips? Comparison could have stopped them in their tracks. Or set their determination on fire. Either way, the paradox is the same centuries later. We have to be great, standing alone. We write the book, we make the play, we finish the album. And like a fine pearl in a crusty oyster, we discover, nurture and reap the rewards all on our own. We picture the winter cabin, light the fire, set down at the table. Alone on the mountaintop, we scribble the night away until the sun rises. And then Monday comes around and we head back into the void. The idea of the lone soul is romantic. Wandering in the wilderness our hearts ache for the lost stranger with a creative gift to share with the world. When looking at a project in retrospect we view the author as the sole engine and so desperately try and recreate the same notion. Born alone, die alone right? Nah, teamwork makes the dream work. Creative accountability is an incredible thing. When removed from structure or deadlines, we humans tend to internalise and imagine the best work is made flexibly and on our time. The only problem is, there’s a lot of it. No one but yourself to respond to your work, work ethic or general creations feels like freedom, but you might just be wandering in the woods. ‘Frankenstein’ was a ghost story brief from Lord Byron. True, it was presented during a rainy summer in a Swiss villa but still it was a proposition, the spark was ignited and the rest was science fiction history. When the universe drops an ‘I dare you,’ creativity rears its head. The basis of literature, of language, of art is community, is society, is sharing. Tolkien was a member of the most adorably named informal literary discussion group called the ‘Inklings.’ Inspiration will get you so far to Mount Doom I suppose, but looking at any great author or artist in detail and you will find that shared enthusiasm lights the fire beneath them. Frodo is nothing without Sam, after all... Projects, groups, societies even pen pals can take you to new places and hold you answerable to discoveries made when more than one of you is stirring the pot… Guidelines for Creative Accountability 1. Choose a Creative Human. If you meet with a person to complain about how you should be working on something right now, this is your human. Creativity must be ticked as both of you need to bring something to the table. For coffee shop meet ups this is easily achieved if you are both writers but hey, if you’re an artist and your CH is an interpretive mime, give your local barista a SHOW. (Also, always bring paper as well as laptops. Sometimes we really do need to doodle and scribble out with fury.) 2. Commit to your Project. Contrary to word choice, deadlines actually keep ideas alive and we humans crave structure in this wonky world. Whenever you meet always bring some meat to the table and call each other out if you don’t. Make it clear that this isn’t just a chat and chill but an opportunity to light a torch on your creativity and set the world as you know it ablaze. Take a leaf from Mary’s book and bash it out. Write while you meet if you’re behind. Make it happen. 3. Make a Monster. If you’re creative, you’re critical. It’s just how we’re made I’m afraid. But don’t let those outside voices into your log cabin. Leave them outside in the snow and just share, share, share. It’s not shouting into the wind if you’ve got an audience. If you’re CH is well selected they will let you hit them with anything and equally so you should prepare for a tasty idea from them, however half-baked. Listen, be kind and support their efforts like the good creative you are. Lead with the positives and give constructive feedback that will build them up rather than tear them down. Read more on Romanticism HERE ‘Beware for I am fearless and therefore powerful…’ - Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
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