Lamb and Frog

A fellow fiber artist once told me that she never used patterns because they “limited her creativity.” She made items (usually afghans) that had designs in them (think beadwork or intarsia), but they were almost all either single or double crochet–and they were almost all rectangular. For her, the creativity was in the color, and in choosing the yarn, and in mapping the designs. It was not in texture or shaping or finding a new way to do an old technique (think Cat Bordhi). Still, I never found her work particularly creative, inspired, or inspiring. Mostly, it seemed tedious—lots and lots of counting. I thought, and still think, that she just didn’t like to be told what to do (even by a skilled pattern designer). She just didn’t want to follow the rules.

Does following the rules mean that you aren’t creative? I don’t think so. Sometimes following the rules forces you to be creative in ways that ignoring them does not. Poetry is a good example. Free verse is creative, but doesn’t it require more creativity to express an idea within the rules of a sonnet, haiku, or heroic couplets—forms where you can’t use as many words as you want in whatever rhythm you want to express the idea? The form forces you to use language more creatively, albeit with more discipline. Complain if you want about twitter, but I challenge you to express a meaningful thought (not what you had for lunch) effectively in 140 characters or less. Working within established limits can free you from creative traps caused by seemingly infinite choices (of words or stitches) and  ‘too much information’.

Robert Pirsig gives a great example of the too much information trap in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The main character is teaching an undergraduate English class. A student approaches him saying that she is having trouble with the current assignment because she can’t think of anything to write (or something like that, it’s been a while since I last read the book). He explains that her problem isn’t too little choice, but too much. He asks her to write about a specific building. It’s still too much. A floor, a window, still too much. Finally, the student ends up writing her assignment on one brick. One brick in an entire building was enough material to construct a three-page story.

I often find obeying (or at least pretending to pay attention to) the rules is more liberating than limiting. More often than not, imposing structure or limits on a fiber or writing project provides me with guidance that fosters, not inhibits, my creativity. Does that mean you can’t break the rules? Not at all. I think that creativity exists on a continuum of risk tolerance (low to high) and rules (none to many):

No matter how inspired you are, not knowing the rules and/or not having the discipline to learn the craft and to acquire the skill* necessary to actually perform the work well will result in bad original work (lower right quadrant). I am not a musician because my knowledge of the rules is limited and even if I did have the discipline to learn an instrument, I don’t think I would ever acquire the skill necessary to make a decent original (creative) product (although I might eventually get good enough to decently perform someone else’s work). The fiber artist I mentioned at the beginning of the post never achieved (or never chose to demonstrate) a level of skill in the craft that would allow her to use something other than counting stitches in a particular yarn color to realize her own artistic vision, although her ability to finish huge afghans using only a single crochet stitch demonstrates a discipline bordering on OCD. The products looked good and she thought they were highly creative, but I doubt that anyone else would consider them actual works of fiber art.**

Low to no ability to tolerate risk combined with a lot of rules or structure (upper left quadrant) simply inhibits creativity–you won’t step off the beaten path, not even to take a pee (better just hold it until you get back to a safe restroom). Nothing creative will ever come of that. No risk tolerance, no rules (lower left quadrant)? Too much information and you won’t make the decisions necessary to set project boundaries–hell, you’ll probably never be able to settle on a medium, much less an actual project. Too many rules for someone with high risk tolerance (the textbook vision of the artist trapped in a classroom)? Usually a recipe for disaster.

If you have ever had the desire to do something truly creative then chances are you are not at the extreme edge of that upper left quadrant. The trick is finding the right balance between your level of risk tolerance (how much you are willing to break the rules) and just how much you need to learn and practice the rules to achieve a decent result in your chosen medium (words, fiber, music, etc.). The other trick is knowing when to stop the book learnin’, when stop listening to the voices (internal and external) telling you you can’t do it, and to just get down to business and make what you see or hear or feel. Go ahead, make it, it’s good for your soul.

* There’s skill (which can be acquired) and there’s talent (which cannot). The best creative artists have both.

** A post on art vs. craft has been swishing around in my head for a while now. It’s going to require some research though and those of you who know me know that it’s in the ‘discipline’ part of the rules continuum where I tend to fall down (I’m a freakin’ slacker). Stay tuned.