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Audio Cassette
First published April 24, 2018
Creative people need to start thinking of themselves a little differently. Now, in the twenty-first century, creative life also includes some management of other people’s creativity and the overlap between yours and theirs. To put it a different way: you can be an artist, but you also have to be a curator. You have to occupy both of these roles at the same time.
Protocreativity? Prepackaging? Whatever it is, it can be useful. If you’re a writer, imagine the blurbs that will be on the paperback. If you’re a painter, imagine what people will say when they’re standing in front of your canvas. This is another example of being present but not-present: you are the creator but also the eventual audience. When you’re on the outside of your own work looking in, you’ll be able to see the overall shape of it, which will help you to realize that you’re on the right track (or, alternatively, that you’re not).
David Bowie said something I really liked. I don’t know if he said it often, but it’s the kind of thing that you should get tattooed on your leg. He said that creativity is “one of the few human endeavors where you can crash your airplane and walk away from it.” Your mistakes don’t have to bring you down, not by any means. But Bowie’s observation has an even deeper level. Creative failures can feel like near-death experiences, and surviving them can create a sense of liberation. [...]Creative failure leads to a similar liberation. When you walk away from your crashed airplane, you’re playing with house money. You can do anything—and hopefully you will. Failure is sometimes in your mind. Sometimes it’s in the eye of the . . . well, not the beholder, exactly, but the afflicted. Even when it’s not, even when it’s indisputable, it’s never the end. [...] true creative people don’t walk away from it, not exactly. They walk toward the next thing.