Frozen Light
Image by Jeremy Thomas
With all the well-curated social images and the Western world’s propensity to focus on end results, it’s easy to get caught up in the idea that the results are the only thing that matters. That, of course, is bollocks. It is the journey, more often than the outcome, that the shapes and hones the artist (or human). And, it is in the very process of creation where the true gold lies.
Image by Hassan Ishan
Based purely on such presentation, I used to have this idea that many of the wonderful things I enjoyed simply came into being that way. I imagined the storyteller crafted the tale perfectly the first time it was uttered (or written). I believed the songs I heard on the radio had been delivered perfectly the first time they were laid down. I believed much of the acting and art I’d encountered had been beautifully honed on the very first try.
Because the culture I grew up in was more focused on the end results than how they were created, I formed an idea that the final products I enjoyed were simply born that way. I went on from there to believe that birthing an idea into the world would be a one and done event. And I believed that event would either result in something pristine and lovely, something dark and deformed (and therefore probably unusable), or some variation on one of those themes.
This way of thinking, of course, couldn’t be further from the truth. I remember being stunned when I watched a music awards show where a female artist I adored at the time received an award for “Best New Artist.” When she accepted the award, she shared that while she was pleased to receive it, she also found it an interesting experience since she and her band had been recording and performing for over a decade.
A decade.
She and her band had been in the business for over ten years, and were being given an award as though they were breakout, newbies. That artist was given some crap about her statement, as though perhaps people thought she was being ungrateful. She wasn’t ungrateful, but she wasn’t a newborn either so the award was in many ways a misnomer. It was then that I truly began to understand the iterative nature of art.
And of humanity.
Image by William Zhang
We are never only one thing, and “final” drafts aren’t actually final.
Art is malleable, and creation, like growth, isn’t always linear. I learned that day that “new” doesn’t always mean new in the sense I’d originally thought. And some of those “dark and deformed” things I’d thought would never see the light of day because of how they were “born,” ended up getting edited and becoming something lovely (though still a bit dark for some of them, but achingly beautiful for their darkness). I stopped pushing away the chaos and embraced a messy truth;
Creation is not a sterile event.
Creation is messy and often chaotic, requiring friction – a breaking down, a breaking apart and a reordering of matter into something new.
And while in some instances it can appear as though it is a big bang, more often than not, creation is a slower process of evolution. A long game.
And long is relative.
So is “the right way.”
The truth is, there is no “right way” to create anything.
The way that feels good to us, that inspires us. The way that fuels our creative fire and allows for our authentic expression.
And maybe we haven’t found what that way is yet. That’s completely okay. The journey is more important than the finished product anyway. For without the journey, we wouldn’t be who and where we are. And we wouldn’t be able to create in the unique ways that we do.
As Adah Parris says, “There is a lot to be learnt about ourselves and each other in those moments of silence, boredom, chaos.”
So, here’s to enjoying the process, welcoming the chaos, and allowing for the unfolding as we embrace creation in all its messy, iterative glory.