Patient Creativity

Rome wasn't built in a day and that bugs me

"It's all about the journey, not the destination."

I could not be less impressed by a sentence. This is the kind of vapid stuff you'd find printed on a mug in some gift shop in an airport, right next to the "Live, Laugh, Love" throw pillows.

I am hardly patient. I've always been more "are we there yet?" than "enjoy the ride". My mind paces, and my mouth struggles to keep up. My face makes so many expressions it could star in its own silent movie. This is all part of my creative process. It's who I am. Mostly it's a comedy train-wreck. Very rarely, with some luck, it's a small fireworks display.

Some years ago, at the end of an interview for a role I desperately wanted, I asked the hiring manager when they'd like the chosen candidate to start. "Yesterday!" they'd said, with a manic type of chuckle. It was the most 2010's thing ever, but at the time, I thought it was very sexy. For many years, I used the expression "Yesterday!" with the same crazy-eyed delivery, liberally and unapologetically, even when it made absolutely no sense.

Monet painted waterlilies over three decades. He painted most of it after losing his eyesight. From here.

I've been thinking about creative patience - mostly in the context of this substack, but also more broadly from the perspective of a type of attitude toward life.

There's this duality in creative pursuits. On the one hand, there's the 70-20-10 rule. The creative's equivalent of throwing spaghetti to the wall to see what sticks. I'm a proponent of bad writing and bad art. Rough drafts are necessary, freeing, and sometimes they'll even sparkle.

But there's also something to be said about the perils of hurried, relentless, hustle culture art - I think it can sometimes lead to a type of creative anaemia.

It strikes me that the moving, tantric, make-you-question-your-existence type of art is a slow burn. I'm thinking of the Hans Zimmer score for Interstellar, for example. I can’t say I know Hans personally, but I'd wager that he didn't whip that up over a weekend fuelled by Red Bull and deadlines. That type of magical work seems to come from a whole other dimension. A plane that you have to teach yourself to access through patient cultivation.

This work is born from a patient dialogue between creator and creation. Over days, weeks and sometimes years, the ache of waiting transforms into creative fuel. Ideas mature, flavors intensify, and the ordinary transcends into the extraordinary.

Consider some other grand masters of patience:

• Leonardo da Vinci took about 14 years to perfect the Mona Lisa smile.

• Richard Linklater filmed Boyhood over 12 years, capturing the actual growth of his actors.

• Antoni Gaudí spent 43 years working on the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, and it's still not finished.

You get it. Good things take time etc.

NB: This all probably bodes well for the Bangalore Metro, which we can all agree is an experimental, durational art piece.

Have a great week!