100 Colours

Watching my thoughts go by and by, like a work of art constantly evolving in a chaotic structure, to nowhere specifically, with no sense apparently.

I put down the brush and look behind the canvas. And as I look, 100 colours drip from my fingers and colour my soul. They dance. This is the first work of art that I can truly call mine – not a copy of my favourite impressions, but my own visceral creation.

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Arrogance Is Killing Your Creativity

Can we be creatively the same as we were when we were young and innocent?

Can we write about the same problems, with the same flow and the same intensity… or do we lose our creativity as we become acceptant of the reality that we live in?

The big question is, do we lose our fire as we grow older?

The answer is dubious, but not complicated. We obviously cannot feel the same as someone we are not – unless we intentionally go back to that state, by acting and impersonating the feeling we want to have and the person we want to be. But this becomes harder and more synthetic as we grow older. Because with age, we start to lose the artistic impulses that we had in our teens. There’s no denial in this. Nonetheless, there’s no reason to worry about that, because that’s all they were. Creative impulses. Beams of concentration that drove us mad, blind in space and time, with the feeling that if we didn’t put them out there, we would die.

That drive was what made us creative, that impulse was what made our expression… real. After all, the sincere expression of art doesn’t come come from reasoning, it comes from feeling.

The creative impulse is an involuntary focus in a specific subject.

But if this focus is involuntary, it can be voluntary too. There’s always two sides to one coin. What I’m trying to say is that the creative impulse can come back if we are willing to show up for the ideas that are long awaiting to be expressed through us. All we need to do is show up. Just like we did when we were younger. Leaving aside the inevitable arrogance that keeps growing as our ignorance diminishes.

Only then can we allow ourselves to truly concentrate. Concentration consists in focusing the mind on one idea and holding it there. Dissolving the whole, and analysing the part. When we were young, that’s all we could do: Think of parts and how they connected to the whole. Figuring shit out. Proving that what we felt was real. That was our creative process. Now that we can see the whole, we feel we have nothing to prove. That’s the problem. We must go back and focus on the part, feel it without reason, and raise the satisfactory disquietude necessary for creative expression. We too, have to figure shit out.

On the day we understand this, our creative impulses will finally break through our body, and surpass the arrogant wiseness that has been keeping them from becoming real.