Creativity- a new perspective.
Creativity is a misled notion, an abstraction that has been over romanticized by the intellectuals, manipulated by institutions and used as a differentiation tool to categorize people of different tastes.
Sadly, I am branded as someone who is creative.
The rhetoric here is that yes, I do feel good when looked upon as a mind that thinks in abstractions, talks emotions and picks up colors from the lands that are yet unexplored within.
These ranks that people offer me give me a high that brings in pride, a medal for my ego that says- I know and I can interpret!
The very next moment makes me realize that I just had an encounter with a thug. It’s not robbery, but the podium that is created and provided to all these so called creative people is an approaching dead end.
The result is that all these talented people, if I can take the liberty of calling them so; get into the rut of approvals, running after everyone and giving them theories and loathing in self pride just because they could provide a feeling of awe: A momentary respect from a rambler who happened to inquire to the artist, the meaning of his creation.
This exercise gets so empowering for the artist that he forgets everything else and gets into theories, trying to express what never can be!
Slowly but surely, moving away from the essence of the word- creative.
We see colorful brochures at every show that talk of the artist and what makes him paint. Volumes of words explain the meaning of a song, and why the musician chose those particular instruments over the others along with the tone and feel. THIS is anything but creativity!
A child enjoys the pattern of rain in a puddle, texture of muck, the sight of stars and the shades of nature. Imitation of strange voices heard, stories cooked up to impress or scare peers narrated at the most odd hours. Looking at things differently, questioning his eco- system and going by the gut feel is what a child is all about. After the constant attacks of society, the survivors of this massacre of being one with nature are either looked down upon and shunned away, or respected and hyped up extremely.
Both of these extreme reactions work in a certain way of their own, the artist is too much in the situation to realize and foresee that the time he could have dedicated to keeping his essence alive is either spend in making ends meet, or attending conferences!
I was reading something told to a reporter by none other than Picasso himself, there was a certain sort of irritation in the artists tone whenever he would be asked what a certain canvas meant. Beauty and art, if at all they are separate entities are meant to be felt, than read.
There is too much forming within, the increasing traffic inside is not letting me put words that result in sentences. A song is playing in my head………
I can’t explain and you won’t understand………
Sadly, I am branded as someone who is creative.
The rhetoric here is that yes, I do feel good when looked upon as a mind that thinks in abstractions, talks emotions and picks up colors from the lands that are yet unexplored within.
These ranks that people offer me give me a high that brings in pride, a medal for my ego that says- I know and I can interpret!
The very next moment makes me realize that I just had an encounter with a thug. It’s not robbery, but the podium that is created and provided to all these so called creative people is an approaching dead end.
The result is that all these talented people, if I can take the liberty of calling them so; get into the rut of approvals, running after everyone and giving them theories and loathing in self pride just because they could provide a feeling of awe: A momentary respect from a rambler who happened to inquire to the artist, the meaning of his creation.
This exercise gets so empowering for the artist that he forgets everything else and gets into theories, trying to express what never can be!
Slowly but surely, moving away from the essence of the word- creative.
We see colorful brochures at every show that talk of the artist and what makes him paint. Volumes of words explain the meaning of a song, and why the musician chose those particular instruments over the others along with the tone and feel. THIS is anything but creativity!
A child enjoys the pattern of rain in a puddle, texture of muck, the sight of stars and the shades of nature. Imitation of strange voices heard, stories cooked up to impress or scare peers narrated at the most odd hours. Looking at things differently, questioning his eco- system and going by the gut feel is what a child is all about. After the constant attacks of society, the survivors of this massacre of being one with nature are either looked down upon and shunned away, or respected and hyped up extremely.
Both of these extreme reactions work in a certain way of their own, the artist is too much in the situation to realize and foresee that the time he could have dedicated to keeping his essence alive is either spend in making ends meet, or attending conferences!
I was reading something told to a reporter by none other than Picasso himself, there was a certain sort of irritation in the artists tone whenever he would be asked what a certain canvas meant. Beauty and art, if at all they are separate entities are meant to be felt, than read.
There is too much forming within, the increasing traffic inside is not letting me put words that result in sentences. A song is playing in my head………
I can’t explain and you won’t understand………
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