I was with a friend of mine recently as he was writing an entry on his blog about creativity. The purpose of the entry was largely that of debunking the myth of the creative person as "a Romantic, wilful, sensitive, temperamental, tortured soul, a perpetual outsider with a mysterious and misunderstood talent". I made the comment, as I read it, that I actually believed such people to be in a minority even in such creative endeavours as art and literature. My comment was meant in a protective sense – I feel a little as if Romantics are seen as a kind of old guard in the arts and philosophy, who need to be overthrown. I have similar protective feelings about vegetarianism. I often hear people sounding off about vegetarians as if they are afraid that such people are taking over the world and will force us all to give up meat. But no, the fact is vegetarians are still a minority who have made a choice about their own lifestyles. They are not an establishment that must, at all costs, be challenged. To put my feelings even more simply, the Romantics are still, in my view, the underdogs in this world. The outsider is still the outsider.
In a sense, such comments have little bearing on the blog entry in question, which was simply dealing with stereotypes that may be an obstacle to creativity, but such were the thoughts that came to mind as I read. There is no doubt that this is because I am, in fact, a Romantic. Indeed, it was this very friend who diagnosed my Romantic ailment for me many years ago – I am a number four on the enneagram. I am, myself, aware of the dangers of stereotyping, and am usually keen to avoid them, but 'Romantic' is one label that I have felt unusually at home with. It's true that in some ways I am not an exemplary Romantic. Indeed, I tend to take a rather Romantic view that the human race has been descending from some kind of Eden of wild innocence and imagination into the uglifying corruption of materialism, and that, therefore, I am really a very sorry excuse for a Romantic, the feeble, unhealthy, unbeautiful scion of a great Romantic dynasty; I am more wracked by doubt than I am inspired by passion. I resemble, in some ways, the figure of Toru in Mishima's The Decay of the Angel. Whether or not I am the 'real thing' depends upon the quality of the light and the angle you're looking from. Well, do excuse such grandiosity; I can't help it.
Then again, perhaps this question of the limiting nature of stereotypes is precisely the point, even if I am a 'dyed-in-the-wool' Romantic. If I define myself as an outsider, do I remain an outsider, unable to grow, unable to make the changes on the 'inside' that, as an outsider, I claim to desire?
This remains a conundrum for me. Perhaps I am still too attached to a stereotype, or perhaps there is something of real value within that stereotype.
Anyway, I got home that Sunday and there was an e-mail waiting for me from my publisher, telling me that he had written an article about investing in collectable books for The Independent, and that he had mentioned me as a good investment. I quote from the article in question:
Like fine wines in a dark cellar, lay down a stash of books by writers you yourself rate highly, and forget what is fashionable this year. Michael Dibdin and Catherine Fisher are quite well-known, but not too expensive yet. Myself, I'd buy a few firsts [first editions] by Quentin S Crisp and Thomas Ligotti. If our sensible purchase has only made us adequate money in 20 years' time, then at least there is the chance that we'll be able to make a small fortune at Sothebys with those cheaper, fun investments. And if the worst comes to the worst, we'll still have some great books to read.
What I appreciate most about this mention is really the vote of confidence. I have no idea if this will win me new readers, but it is good to know that someone with an eye for such things – in the publishing business – considers that my work will not only be remembered, but will be more greatly valued in years to come. The article seems to me a curious reversal of Edgar Jepson's idea of 'the gamble of literature'. Edgar Jepson was referring to the gamble the writer takes in devoting his life to literature. The article quoted above deals with the gamble that buyers take if they see literature as a financial investment. I deduce from the wording of the article that I am not so much a "sensible purchase", that is, an odds on favourite, as an outsider, with the odds against me perhaps, but with the winnings all the greater if I do succeed.
The conclusion of the article also reminds me of this part from the article on creativity:
One area of psychological research on creativity that has produced some positive results is motivation. Theresa Amabile's research has shown that there is a strong correlation between creative performance and 'intrinsic motivation' – i.e. when someone is working on a creative task for its own intrinsic interest they are likely to demonstrate more creativity than if they are pursuing the task in order to achieve an extrinsic reward, like money, fame or promotion. She quotes the American poet Anne Sexton:
"Anne Sexton told her agent that, although she would love to make a great deal of money from her books, she knew that she had to forget all about that while actually writing her poems…"
I would prefer that people did buy my books in the expectation of a good read rather than a good investment. Besides, Anne Sexton tells me what I already know – that if I think about making money I'm less likely to write anything of quality (and presumably, therefore, less likely to write anything worth investing in, anyway).
If I wanted a glib ending now, perhaps I would write something like, "Maybe it's not so bad being an outsider". But perhaps, for the sake of creativity, such a glib ending, like the stereotype it mentions, is something that should be transcended. Besides, being an outsider, I have to stay tortured, wilful, mysterious and misunderstood, don't I?
I’ll buy your books even if they don’t make me rich :)Lately I’ve been reading up on the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood–or more specifically on Lizzie Siddal. Romanticism–the old ideal of it–gets its fair share of abuse these days, but it doesn’t bother me (often). DG Rossetti and crew aren’t exactly politically correct or in fashion, but I’d still rather read his poetry or look at his paintings than half of what gets pushed at you any more. We need more Romanticism and less glitz or plastic t.v. adventure, in my opinion…more joy, less manufactured entertainment.I’d rather be a Romantic outsider than a straight-jacket conformist any day of the week.
great posting! keep it up.me:definitley a die-hard romantic.:love:too passionate about many things… :Pnot vegetarian, but, working my way to there… :)i too, am a bit of an outsider and we discussed that already. :Pand about my ideals in life… well, most people wouldn´t get it. :lol:and about your books:will definitely keep my :eyes: peeled for them…do you have your titles anywhere on your blog???
Hello. Thank you. On my way to bed, so will be brief.”Lately I’ve been reading up on the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood–or more specifically on Lizzie Siddal.”Lizzie Siddal? I almost bought this book not too long ago. Is that what you’re reading now?”do you have your titles anywhere on your blog???”Well, someone has been convincing me to start a new blog specifically on writing, showcasing my own writing, so I’m looking into that (in theory). But for now, there’s this link, and perhaps this one, too.
Lizzie Siddal…wow!The coincidences…she wrote poetry to accompany Botticelli´s paintings… beautiful stuff
Mark McGuinness writes:Excellent! I never realised how valuable my copies were/might be. Maybe I should get in a few extra to lay down in the cellar.Wickedlizard – yes, he should have his books on the blog, shouldn’t he? No point hiding your light under a bushel, especially when it’s so dazzling.MLynnJohnson – well I’ve fessed up in my own comments section that I love the Romantic poets, in fact some of my best friends are Romantics ;-)But I do think these days we have more creative choices than the black-and-white of ‘Romantic outsider’ vs ‘straightjacket conformist’.Actually, I think we’re likely to get stuck as artists/creatives if we worry too much about what sort of person/artist we are, and label ourselver rather than focusing on the doing of it. Maybe we could think of the labels as costumes, masks or moods that we try on and walk around in for a while, to see how the world looks and feels in them. Or maybe that just makes me an aesthetic dilletante?Great to see you in the hallowed pages of the Independent Q.
🙂
I have been stirred to check out some of the enneagram stuff again, and this is really uncanny. I’m a bit worried about the predictions of lifelong despair, though, and, er, the heightened potential for suicide.
yes, she was very sick and he wasn´t exactlty nice to her….I have a book about the famous artists and their muses. And most of them, were not very nice to their muses… Very odd.
Quentin–I just got that book in the post, from the UK no less. It’s so far brilliant. I’m quite taken with the whole story, actually. Mark–indeed. Labels are good for clothes maybe, not people…Isabel–I didn’t know Siddal did that, but I’m only partly through the book right now. The book you have on muses, is it by Francine Prose? Cuz I just read that one, too. The essay on Charles Dodgson & Alice Liddel was interesting…Now I have to pretend I’m working 🙂
i think so…I read it a while back – but, the name you mention seems to ring a bell!On my other blog I had her poetry with her lover´s art too. I have deleted it all, but, still have the files and will look it up and re-post them. :smile:or am i confusing the artists….i do that too…. :lol:will check it out.
trini_naenae writes:Heh. I’m an Individualist too.
Do you recognise this bit in your life? If so, how do you cope with it?”As awareness of their hostility and negative feelings gradually wears them out, average to unhealthy Fours sink ever more deeply into self-doubt, depression, and despair. They spend most of their time searching for the courage to go on living despite the overwhelming sense that the essential flaw in themselves is so deep that it cannot be healed. Indeed, the feeling of hopelessness is the current against which they must constantly swim. And if the undertow of hopelessness is too strong, unhealthy Fours either succumb to an emotional breakdown, or commit suicide because they despair of ever breaking free of it.”I must admit, this is all too familiar for me.
Sometimes I feel like that. Thankfully, not all the time! When I feel like that, I turn on some music that cheers me up, pull out the paints and stare at a blank canvas until I start to see something in it, then I paint. Or better, I bring out my clay, which is my preferred medium and something starts to take shape within my fingers. It is funny with clay, though, what it will become I never know, it shapes itself and the results are always a nice surprise. :DFor me, art is a therapy of sorts. When I feel like that, I can´t express it to someone else, I just need my own presence, my breath, and my own movements and nothing that will disturb my space in time. I just turn into me and in a way, I am meditating. I do meditate when I feel it is necessary and when I can express myself in words, then I go see my “sisters” and we socialize.We all need time to turn into ourselves, to be alone with ourselves. I don´t think it is a bad thing. It feels bad only because you are afraid of what you will find in yourselves, and that´s why I think people become suicidal, they don´t know how to deal with what is inside.
That Type Four Overview is like a summary of my life. Everything in it is accurate.
“That Type Four Overview is like a summary of my life. Everything in it is accurate.”Scary, isn’t it?
trini_naenae writes:How do I deal with depression? I talk to my friends, online and real life. I draw and photograph. Read interesting stuff. I go on flickr.com and look at the responses to my work. That usually helps. I get to be reminded that other people enjoy what I create, and that it’s worthwhile.I’m not always successful at beating the depression, but I’m getting a little better at not letting it take over. It is something I have to deal with almost every day.It is frighteningly accurate, yes.One of my online friends, when I was in an especially bad time, asked me what I wanted (in the most simplest terms) from life. I said I wanted to eventually move back to Trinidad, have a significant other/companionship, and to be an artist (create art). He told me that I can’t control going back to Trinidad or having a significant other, especially right now, but I can always work on being an artist, so I should focus on that and try to enjoy that as much as possible. I think that’s the best advice I’ve been given yet.I’m pretty sure you do that already. But it’s always nice to be reminded. 🙂
Hello.Yes, both yourself and Wicked Lizard mention art as a therapeutic means of dealing with depression. I have found that to some extent, I suppose, though it’s always hard to gauge these things since I can’t know what my life would have been like without attempts to make art. I might be unusual (?) in that, although I crave solitude, I actually find being on my own very hard to cope with, even for short periods of time. That is strange, thinking about it, since I have spent most of my life alone – but then that’s where the depression comes in. I find it difficult to luxuriate in solitude, though I would very much like to. Somehow I feel like a piece of unvalidated nothingness when I’m on my own. And I can feel the ticking of the clock. I think I’ve really got to come to terms with the idea of being on my own, I mean, for instance, even just spending a day in my own company without feelings of dread, panic and other crippling moods less easy to describe.I just have to keep telling myself:”Every day and in every wayI’m getting better and better and better.”But seriously… I can’t think of anything else to say.No, I am looking for ways to deal with the dark stuff, because it’s poisoned my life for too long.
well, if it helps, listen to happy feel good music loud to drive the dreariness away or try meditating???? :worried: