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October 20, 2008
Things you only know after the event
When creating something I inevitably, and not unreasonably, start with nothing – a blank panel, a blank sheet of paper, a blank tape.
I have a feeling for what I want to do, an urge, an itch perhaps. An idea I’ve been scratching at for a while. Something that has been bubbling away on the back burner of my mind for many months. I know where I want to go [mostly].
What I don’t know is how I’m going to get there, how I’m going to achieve the results or at least how I’m going to assuage the urge. There are conventions that enable you to get going, admittedly, but it’s a difficult business.
An idea isn’t created whole, it doesn’t come flat pack either. The piece isn’t conceived in its entirety and then brought forth through what ever medium seems most appropriate, at least it isn’t in my case, I can’t, obviously, speak for others.
It’s all a bit creep-and-go. Sneak around a lot, do a bit, think about it, do a bit more, check it, look at it, do a bit, measure it, squint at it, go shopping, come back, look at it again. All the time making creative and critical judgements, weighing it up against the initial idea, trying to assess whether it does the job, whether it cuts the mustard, whether it communicates the emotion, whether it scratches that particular itch.
When this process has gone on longer than is reasonably comfortable and things are rapidly approaching the end, I have an unhealthy attachment to the project. The more work I put in the more reluctant I am the change things. I feel I’ve got thus far by the skin of my teeth and any fiddling at this stage would upset an already fragile state sending the whole thing into chaos and mediocrity.
This attachment makes me blind to the reality of the piece, I can no longer see it. I am too close to it. I am the last person who should be making creative decisions at this stage. It’s only later, many months later, that I begin to see the piece in a more objective way, but by then it’s usually too late to do anything about it.
Sometimes the reality of the piece hits with a sickening thud, other times it can be quite uplifting. The frustrating thing being that it’s so hard to tell when you’re doing it, when you are still in a position to lessen the potential sickening thud.
Posted by john at October 20, 2008 12:38 PM