See it from far away...

'Maybe they're far away, in the act of performing, but I don't hear what they're playing.'

Aaron Jay Kernis from The Muse That Sings: Composers Speak about the Creative Process by Ann McCutchan


One of the ways Aaron Jay Kernis inspires himself to start composing is to bring an image to mind. One of the images he creates with his mind's eye is that of musicians performing from far away, so far away he cannot hear what they are playing.

Imagine you are seeing your problem from far away. You cannot hear the clamour and noise it is making or, if they are involved, what people may be saying to each other.

But you can discern some things.

What glistens or stands out from afar? Which movements or actions catch the eye? What is blurred and difficult to make out?

What, from your perspective, surrounds the problem? Within what landscape is it set? Does it appear small when compared to what surrounds it? Or does it loom large over the landscape, despite how far away it is? 

Or is it not in a landscape at all? Is it in fact enclosed within some larger space? What does this space look like? What is its function? Is it reinforcing the problem? Or is it somehow containing or limiting it?

Is anyone else watching? What are they doing as they watch? Can you even hear a little of what they are saying?

Watch and listen for a while...

How are you seeing things now? What are you beginning to hear?

What do you want to do first? What direction do you want to take? What do you want to look at more closely?

Begin to compose your solution.

Create a memory pop-out book

'I don’t keep a lot of notebooks. I sometimes regret that I haven’t. But I sure have developed a memory notebook -- I have lots of ideas for pieces that I haven’t done yet. One piece I’ve had in mind for fifteen or twenty years is a setting of Walt Whitman’s “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking,” a landmark American poem. I have so many notes for this potential piece interleaved in my copy of "Leaves of Grass" that the book looks like a cabbage in bloom. So in a sense I do have notebooks -- collections of ideas partially worked out, here and there.'

Eric Stokes from The Muse That Sings: Composers Speak about the Creative Process by Ann McCutchan

The above shows how Eric Stokes makes note-taking a valuable and intrinsic part of his creative process.

Making notes at the time of inspiration and physically placing them inside and beside the source that generated them enables Stokes to develop a 3D memory map and timeline of his ideas which steadily grows outwards and along, filling out and continuing the narrative of his creative journey.

He creates a memory 'pop-out' book which quickly captures his ideas, faithfully marks when and where they were first thought of, accurately maps their subsequent development, and easily enables new ideas to be added to and linked with them.

Every time he flicks and thumbs through his memory enriched book he sees his ideas in motion and once again experiences the pace and energy generated by his sparks of inspiration. The book's touch and feel, together with its physical sense of growth and onward movement, invite Stokes to continue his creative journey and associate ever more creative ideas with his initial inspiration.

 
You can create your own memory notebook. When a book inspires you immediately begin transforming it into a 3D map and timeline that captures your ideas at the place of their birth and faithfully records their progress as they grow, develop, reach out and connect with other inspirational ideas.

Frequently flick and thumb through your budding memories and ideas, adding and adding to them until they bloom into something new.

Stop press!

Isaac Newton used the above approach:

How Isaac Newton remembered everything he read

Travel back to the 'Going Wrong Point'.

'...the point at which things go wrong may be a new area of exploration that you didn't see initially. You have to keep going back to that point, trying to figure out what to do. Often the problem is that you've just refused to bend the right way.'

Shulamet Ran from The Muse That Sings: Composers Speak about the Creative Process by Ann McCutchan


We do not like making mistakes, causing accidents, getting things wrong. We prefer to distance ourselves from our errors as quickly as possible: get back on track; regain momentum; regain direction. Some of us dislike mistakes so much that we exhort ourselves to do the impossible: 'right first time' after time after time.  

Some of us realise that perfection is impossible, so we commit to learning from our mistakes and moving forward; the two actions merge in our minds: learn move forward.

But what about learning and pausing, learning and changing, learning and going sideways, learning and travelling a less obvious path -- a path perhaps parallel or even opposite to our original intent?

Every going wrong point along our journey towards getting something right is an opportunity to get something right in new, innovative and better ways.

Wilson Greatbatch installed a wrong part into a heart monitoring device. He realised his mistake, but rather than immediately correcting it he was keen to find out how it would affect the device. When he switched the monitor on he heard a regular, heartbeat-like pulse. Intrigued by this effect, Greatbatch altered the direction of his research and became the inventor of the pacemaker.      

Édouard Bénédictus accidently knocked a glass flask off a shelf. Rather than immediately clearing up the mess and continuing his work, he stopped to examine the broken flask. It had not shattered into sharp splinters but had more or less kept its overall shape. Curious, Bénédictus changed the focus of his thinking for a while; he concentrated upon the remains of his accident. He found that the flask had contained a substance which had dried, creating an adhesive layer that stopped the glass shattering. He went on to invent laminated safety glass.    

So, when you realise you've made a mistake (or caused an accident or taken a wrong turn), travel back to your going wrong point. Park yourself there and search for signs and paths you may have missed first time round as you rushed on by.

Cue success!

'I want my things around me (posters from world premieres, published scores, etc.) I like to look at my things and say to myself, "You did this in the past, so maybe you can do what you're about to do now".'

John Corigliano from The Muse That Sings: Composers Speak about the Creative Process by Ann McCutchan


Many of us are forced to live in the moment forward.

New pressures, new obstacles, new challenges and opportunities demand that we clear our minds; they demand our undivided attention.

This is only natural, sensible even, but it can also increase our difficulties. Forgotten memories of past success can no longer cradle our confidence and offer us calming reassurances that we had and very likely still have what it takes to get things done: to achieve what we need to achieve.

To help ourselves meet new challenges we need to regain our memories and re-experience our feelings of past success. We need to cue them up around us in object form: letters and notes of thanks; letters of praise; letters of achievement; awards and rewards; and small personal reminders of fond feelings of achievement (that book you wrote; that report; that photo taken at a conference; that name badge; that pen you used to sign the deal; that first invoice).

No object is too small to cue strong feelings of enjoyed success. Place them around you and access their cued up, ready to go memories as and when you need to feel their warm and reassuring glow.

Then face forward and achieve, buoyed by the gift of confidence you have given yourself.

Set yourself some awkward rules

I recently listened to an orchestral piece by Carl Ruggles called ‘Men and Mountains’.

It uses very dissonant harmonies; its two outer movements sound like slowly grinding granite and the middle movement is like experiencing the slowly binding crush of an insidious vine.

I like the piece; I find it immediate and powerful in its emotional impact and even strangely and uniquely beautiful.

Ruggles composed the music according to his own awkward and arbitrary rules. Essentially, these dictate that certain pitches cannot be repeated until a specific number of other pitches have been played.

On the face of it this seems a very cumbersome, unsubtle and counter-intuitive approach to apply to the fluid medium of music and the creative process of composition. Its application, however, created a piece of music that has influenced many composers and is still being performed today, ninety years after its composition. 

Ruggles did not impose the above rules on himself to be rebellious or just plain awkward. He did it to force himself to think differently and find new solutions to new problems.

What awkward rules can you apply to your life and work to make you think and act differently, so enhancing your ability to generate innovative ideas? Here are ten possibilities:

• You must gain five differing opinions before making decisions and taking action.
• You must not use the same analysis or problem solving tool more than twice in a row for the same sort of tasks.
• When studying a subject you must read the work of three authors new to you before revisiting your old favourites. You must incorporate the thinking of at least one of the new authors into your work.
• When writing you must use no more than a set amount of words per sentence or paragraph and ensure that the document is no more than a set number of pages in length. You must also include a concept or idea you have not used before.
• You must change your environment or change your activity at set intervals.
• You must make contact of some kind with a set number of people or organisations each day, before you finish work.
• You must change your route to or from work every three days and stop at least once along the way, however fleetingly, to explore a neighbourhood or venue new to you. You must tell someone about it during your day.
• When you give an opinion at a meeting you must wait for three other people to say something before you repeat yourself.
• You must identify what you like, dislike or find interesting about an idea before you decide to accept or reject it.
• You must find at least one way to make your least favoured idea or solution viable before you discard it.

Set yourself some awkward rules. Choose from the above or create your own. Like Ruggles, it is best if you create your own. Force yourself to think and act differently, and innovation will likely follow.

Don't tiger ideas

'I say to my students all the time, "you're taking yourself way too seriously. You're thinking only about beautifully sculpted, perfect ideas. Why not look at the dorkiness inside, the clumsiness, and realise that that may be where your real genius lies?" In awkwardness you can find tremendous grace.'

Richard Danielpour 
From 'The Muse that Sings' by Ann McCutchan)

Picture a new born foal. What do you see? What most of us see is the foal's charming awkwardness as it tries to stand. We are also immediately aware of its potential: of how it is going to grow into a strong and graceful horse.

When a tiger sees a foal it sees something clumsy, weak and unable to defend itself: something to be devoured and the remains, if any, discarded.

When I was studying composition, I showed some of my rough sketches to a group of fellow students. They were all over them straight away: tearing into the clumsiness of my infant ideas and devouring my confidence in my creative abilities. 

It was with a great amount of trepidation, and not a small amount of visceral fear, that I showed the same sketches to my composition teacher. He looked through them for a while, nodded to himself, and then (with what seemed to me to be genuine interest) began to ask questions:

'Why this chord? Why that combination of instruments? Why this particular turn of phrase? What was my thinking? What was I trying to express and achieve? How could I make my thinking and intentions clearer? How could I more clearly achieve my goal?'

Together, we stayed with the awkwardness of my initial ideas and gradually (through discussion and exploration) we began to tease the quality out of the clumsiness.

The next time you come across a new idea that is taking its first stumbling steps treat it like a new born foal; enjoy and explore its awkwardness and ask the following questions:

'Why is this part so crucial? Why is it put together like that? Why is it described in that particular way? What is the thinking behind it? What is it seeking to achieve? What is its potential? How could we help it realise its potential and achieve its goal?' 

Above all, do not tiger it; do not tear into its clumsiness; do not devour it and discard its hollowed out remains before it finds its legs.

Disarm! Putting guns to better use

Here is a great example of vision, determination, effort, skill, expertise, teamwork, collaboration and creativity all combining to deliver an immediate and powerful message,

and a much better use for guns.

I will let it speak (and sing) for itself:

                                 Disarm!