Work In Colour - Work. Think. Live. In Colour
Tuesday 6th October 2009 | 4 comments
I spent last weekend in Melbourne with a good friend. We had a most excellent time. We went to galleries, we ate great food, and inevitably, we went shopping (we were in Melbourne, after all). I bought a pair of bright orange sandals and a black summer coat.
When I got back to the hotel, I realised that the sandals were a half-size too small - I had bought them because I loved their orange-ness and their strappy-ness, even though they had sold out of my usual size. Parading round the Chapel Street shop, I convinced myself they were perfect, but now...
As for the black coat, it fits perfectly. However, in the shop I swear it made me look 5 years younger and 10 kilos lighter, whisking me me back to younger (more fashionable) days. But now, back in Sydney, it's just a...coat.
So what's going on, and why confess all this in a blog on working in colour?
Well, what I realise was this: In the moment before I bought both the coat and the sandals, I let myself be seduced by a fantasy. I was determined to believe, so determined to have the dream, that I really did seamlessly convince myself it was so - the sandals were a perfect fit and the coat transformed me into this gorgeous creature.
And we do the same thing with our most precious ideas or creative projects, don't we? We fall in love with our new masterpiece and convince ourselves that it is brilliant, that it is just the thing the world has been waiting for, that our writing style will have them completely won over, that our colleagues will swoon with delight when presented with the new idea, that we are so perfect for that job that we can easily persuade the company to hire us, or whatever. Sound familiar?
We all do this, and it's tricky territory, because it overlaps with the essence of truly creative work: to be creative and innovative, you absolutely need to connect the unconnected, to take risks, to leap into the void and convince yourself of the worth of something that doesn't really (yet) exist.
And in the process, you do need to fall in love with your idea, at least to some extent, because if you can't champion the project, how will anyone else? You do have to believe in yourself, you do have to convince yourself your idea will work, you have to believe you can do that great role - you absolutely have to love your plan, your project, your new idea.
And I think maybe that's the real distinction - between loving your idea, and being in love with it. It's that moment of falling in love that lets the fantasy in, that blissful but quite unreal moment of being seduced. Not necessarily disastrous, if it grows into a lasting affection that still allows you to see your project clearly. But in the first moment of seduction, you often can't tell whether it's a lasting love or a deceptive fantasy.
So, what to do?
Whether we are talking about the orange sandals or a new product for your business, I think the solution is the same - learn to trust your gut. I've quoted Steve Jobs before, but it's worth repeating:
You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.
We just need to step back and listen to ourselves. If I am quite honest with myself, somewhere in the back of my mind, or the deep recesses of my stomach, there was a little voice saying 'Those sandals pinch'; I just ignored it. Which is why putting some distance between you and your project (or those gorgeous sandals) is a very good strategy - it gives your gut a chance to speak up, and be heard...
So where are you deluding yourself about your work? Which project needs to be ditched, which great idea needs re-working, which part of your work needs to go?
Tags: thinking, creativity, fantasy
Wow, Joanna. You've always written well. Now you're really putting your heart and soul into your posts. This is great stuff!
I've got half a dozen projects on the go. I don't know which (if any) will be a goer. I'm tracking stats to get an inkling, but my heart and my gut have had things to say on all of them at various times.
So, for now I'm just plugging away on all of them, hoping something will work. I guess that's better than ditching five and pouring everything into one before I've had my 'sign'. Wish me luck!
Thanks again for a great piece of writing! Best regards, P. :)
Thanks Paul, very much appreciated! And I totally agree that you can't always pick the winner straight away - which is also part of the process, I think. It's like Steve Jobs says 'You can't connect the dots looking forward'. (More's the pity sometimes...)
Insightful as usual Joanna!
I like the relationship analogy to creativity and identify with the distinction between loving your idea, and being ‘in love’ with it. And I agree that trusting your gut is the key here - and then letting go. As an architect, a large part of my success is determined by the ideas I don’t use. In our office, we often talk about ideas being the relatively easy part. (who hasn’t had a client with ‘a great idea’?)
For me the creative process is about generating ideas and then getting to know them. This is an iterative process of bouncing back and forth between deciding on whether to get to know them better, and then putting more energy into the relationship. Then if I pass through that first blush of romantic love and a real rapport develops, it is possible to champion their virtues and they are more likely to be successful. (and like a literal friendship, they have established authenticity and value)
I admit, the orange sandals would have had me too...
Hi Jamie
Glad you liked the sandals...and thanks for the architect's take on this. It reminded me of some piece of sage advice (author forgotten) about learning how to succeed in business by defining what you don't do - what services you don't offer, what clients you can't help and so on. I think especially for those of us who have far too many potentially good ideas, it is the winnowing of them that is our particular black art.