In the last few years, and especially since looking more into it, I have come to think that creativity is not something we have or don’t have, something one person is born with, while others are not. Rather, creativity is a way of being, a part of being, whether we recognise that or not. While some may be more creative than others, creativity is more so a state, a way of thinking that is accessible to each and every one of us, by virtue of our human inclination towards discovery and intrigue. As Mark Runco stated, “creativity is human capacity, and there’s always room for growth.”
Nonetheless, I am continually met with people claiming “I’m just not a creative person” –what does this mean? If we understand creativity as it is laid out above, there is no such thing. It could even be considered a contradiction: creativity is intrinsic to what it is to be human. There is no right or wrong way for it to manifest: it may be problem solving—you provide a particular angle that others cannot provide or it can, indeed, be a painting or drawing, a particular way you perceive something and the way you choose to express that. There is no set way, but we cannot deny that this behaviour is fundamental to our nature, so why are we led to believe otherwise? Why is it we are have ben convinced that creativity is reserved to a select few: for writers, artists—the professionals.
Think back to the good ol’ days, the early years of primary school or nursery, I know each and every one of us remembers some glimpse or aspect of that child-like wonder through which we experienced and understood the world. Many of us probably also remember that unshaking confidence in trying, in being a beginner, but also in the pure enjoyment of the activity we were carrying out. I have done a lot of work with children in the arts and crafts, mostly from around the age of five to eleven, and one thing that always strikes me is their genuine enjoyment of the process of making, completely cut off from the world in their own bubble of possibilities, imagination: dragons, magic, fairies— a bubble we all feel so far away from now. Undeniably, the final product is often questionable (I would never say so of course), but each child holds significant pride for what they have made nonetheless, they love it—not because it is the most perfect piece of work or the best picture they have ever seen, but because it is theirs and it captures a feeling or notion they wished to express at that moment. Furthermore, it allowed them the experience of pure and uninhibited enjoyment of the creative process, where the final product was never really the main concern.
This is something that I only really started to think about during my Art Foundation that I did following my A-Levels. After spending the last thirteen years or so in a rather inflexible dogmatic institution (aka the current UK schooling system) I had not realised how that had affected, or rather moulded, my way of thinking, my way of being. As a child I always loved story writing in whatever form, I lived in a fantasy world, yet, I also remember very early on adopting a crippling fear of making a mistake, failing—a stifling perfectionism that I think many of us are familiar with. It was only then I really realised the truth of the claim that “we don’t grow into creativity, we grow out of it.” Whether that is through our institutions or general societal messaging around what is considered worthwhile, effective, a meaningful use of one’s time, I believe this is a somewhat universal experience.
During my time at art college, I was forced to recognise all these layers of fear and resistance to creativity I had acquired through the process of growing up—something that had once been so natural that it did not even need a label, that had just been a part of play, fun or socialising. I was lucky enough to be at a college that emphasised the importance of the creative process over the final outcome. They wanted to see, like I saw those children do quite intuitively, ideas flowing freely, leading to new ones, us getting lost in the creative process and the myriad of ways of expressing our thoughts and perceptions. It made me sad to realise how unnatural this felt—to be told there is no such thing as failing and that there genuinely is no right or wrong or desired outcome.
A key shift in the way creativity is understood, I believe, lies at the heart of this deficiency in our society to just try, get lost in the act of making and be a beginner, just for the sake of it. Creativity has turned into a ‘skill’, rather than a behaviour. Perhaps this can be credited to the commodification of the Arts or the capitalist drive which has taught us to value only that which is productive. Creativity being constrained to this understanding threatens it and rids it from our everyday lives, as that which is not only natural to us, but essential.
You may think this all sounds quite dramatic, what a lot of fuss about drawing like a child again, not being scared to colour outside the line, yet research supports the extraordinary importance of creativity in several ways. On an individual level, it provides personal fulfilment, resulting in positive effects at school and work. Partaking in creative practice can also act as a form of therapy, allowing us to access the flow state we so often crave and a chance to really pause. Furthermore, Jonathan Schooler, a professor of Psychological and Brain Sciences argues that creativity has wider implications, also, for society as a whole. He claims that “creativity is at the core of innovation. We rely on innovation for advancing humanity….Creativity underlies so much of what humans value.” Is it not the risk of failure, the exploring of something new that has led to some of the greatest discoveries of our time.
Creativity lies at the heart of our humanity: it explains much of how our world has come to be. Problem solving, collaborating, finding peace in oneself: creativity does, indeed, hold so much value. It is something we need to remember and prioritise in a world that seems to only emphasise the pursuit of that which guarantees effective results or a specific end-goal. I would go so far as to suggest that the best parts of being human, the stuff that really makes life valuable, cannot be put into a specific value of usefulness: family, love—a lot of the time this does not make us more effective, and does not provide obvious gains, yet it is this which gives our life meaning. The same can be said for creativity. It is not just important, but essential that we continue to exercise it where we can because it is only with ideas we can progress and be better. In a world full of seemingly unsolvable problems, we need our creative caps on more than ever. While it may not be a creative bubble of dragons and magic anymore, it is nonetheless spectacular and I suggest we should all try to tap into it a little more.
As Runco said “everyday creativity is the most important kind. If we can support the creativity of each and every individual, we’ll change the world.”
Image: Amos777eligius via Wikipedia Commons