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creative practice

The Music Video Reinvented

December 3, 2009

Check out this music video from the group Ok Go. Mesmerizing.

Cool, huh?

It reminds me of Feist’s 1234 video

and the tread­mill video –also by Ok Go. These guys have it fig­ured out. There is some­thing sub­tly com­pelling about these videos. I can watch them over and over again. I think we appre­ci­ate see­ing peo­ple just being peo­ple –not being scan­dalous or overly special-effected, just hav­ing fun and being human.

Update: This video from Oren Lavie also falls into this genre of music-videos-showing-people-doing-interesting things.

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Find­ing a way to be artis­tic can add tremen­dously to your qual­ity of life.

For most of us, much of our active time every day is dom­i­nated by task-completion-activities, things that aren’t par­tic­u­larly mean­ing­ful or impor­tant to us, but just have to get done. Cre­ative prac­tice is about mak­ing a time for meaning.

Here are some ben­e­fits of a cre­ative prac­tice: (Any­where where I’ve writ­ten ‘writ­ing’ feel free to sub­sti­tute any other kind of artis­tic activity).

1) To be hap­pier. Aristotle’s def­i­n­i­tion of hap­pi­ness is “deploy­ing your full force along lines of excel­lence.” Writ­ing allows you to do exactly that. It’s about dis­ci­pline and see­ing some­thing through. And I do find it makes me hap­pier, feel­ing a piece come to form. As Hugh Macleod says, “Every­body has their own pri­vate Mount Ever­est they were put on this earth to climb.”

2) To learn. Peo­ple always say, “Write what you know,” but writ­ing is always a process of dis­cov­ery. By writ­ing you’re not just doc­u­ment­ing what you already know, but you’re coming-to-know things you hadn’t yet realized.

3) It’s good for your career. Before I was hired for my most recent job I was Googled by my inter­view­ers. They men­tioned in my inter­view that they’d read by blog about Roger Fed­erer and were impressed. I could tell that they were more com­fort­able with me because they had some evi­dence of how my mind works. In a way, they knew me. It made me more of a known entity and slightly less of a risk. I don’t write my blog for the recog­ni­tion. But it’s nice.

4) To be gen­er­ous. When you share your art, you’re being gen­er­ous. Even the tini­est, hon­est obser­va­tion is a gift. (That’s what I think any­way). And gift-giving cre­ates com­mu­nity. If you share some­thing that peo­ple can read (or  look at and see truth in) that, if noth­ing else, is com­fort­ing to peo­ple.  Also by writ­ing, you put your­self out there. You make your­self a lit­tle vul­ner­a­ble. You show that you’re human and peo­ple appre­ci­ate that.

5) To keep a record. I sit in air­ports and cafes around the world, writ­ing mun­dane minor details about how the light is shin­ing in through the steam of my morn­ing cof­fee or about how the smell of saw­dust takes me back to my dad’s stu­dio above the garage on Sec­ond Street.  Tak­ing the moment to write these thoughts makes me aware of things I wouldn’t oth­er­wise notice. It helps me appre­ci­ate the moment, in the moment. And read­ing my notes later reminds me of the life I’m liv­ing. It shows me what I like about my life and explains, in lit­tle ways, how my life is com­ing together. Cather­ine Bowen said that, “Writ­ing … is not apart from liv­ing. Writ­ing is a kind of dou­ble liv­ing. The writer expe­ri­ences every­thing twice. Once in real­ity and once in that mir­ror which waits always before or behind.”

6) To stay bal­anced. We all want jobs that value our human­ness. But it’s okay for a job to just be a job. It doesn’t have to fill absolutely every void in our lives. Hugh MacLeod (in his ebook) shares what he calls his Sex and Cash The­ory. He explains it like this: “The cre­ative per­son basi­cally has two kinds of jobs. One is the sexy, cre­ative kind. Sec­ond is the kind that pays the bills. Some­times the task in hand cov­ers both bases, but not often. This tense dual­ity will always play cen­ter stage. It will never be tran­scended.” This the­ory sug­gests that it’s okay that your col­leagues value your ideas about life or appre­ci­ate your humour, because it’s just a job. In a way, it’s a good prob­lem, I find that the ten­sions from my work­ing life give me some­thing to write about. They feed my art. A few times, when I finally have no dis­trac­tions and all the time in the world to write, I draw a blank.

7) It feels good. Author Natalie Gold­berg com­pares her cre­ative prac­tice with exer­cise: “Some days you don’t want to run and you resist every step of the three miles, but you do it any­way. You prac­tice whether you want to or not. You don’t wait around for inspi­ra­tion and a deep desire to run… You just do it. And in the mid­dle of the run, you love it. When you come to the end, you never want to stop… That’s how writ­ing is, too. Once you’re deep into it, you won­der what took you so long to finally set­tle down at the desk.”

In more ways than one, the future belongs to the cre­ative classes, the peo­ple who have devel­oped a voice and have both­ered to share.

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