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The Art of Creativity The smooth silver kidney bean hung from a rough-hewn leather string. Across its middle, perfectly centered in the oblong shape, the word "CREATE" was engraved in crisp, clean caps. The natural lines and authentic materials were calling to me. "Honey, if you ever wanted to get me a little something...," I tease my husband. He regards the necklace, smiles broadly, and lovingly lilts, "You don't need one that says 'CREATE.' You need one that says 'COMPLETE.'" Wow, I think to myself, he's going for a Jerry McGuire-esque romantic moment. I'm complete, I complete him, what a sweet....
HEY! Wait a minute! I just figured out what he really meant. "You're really mean!," I yell at him from across the store, scoffing at myself for my more romantic leanings. What he's referring to is my tendency to start lots of wonderful, creative projects, or even just muse about starting them. Usually it's just the knitting that remains incomplete. The rest of it, well, it all gets done...eventually. I never really thought of myself as "creative." In my youth, I thought you had to be interminably broke and a painter to be "creative." I couldn't even draw a stick figure, let alone paint anything original. I always wished I were more artistic, with a single, beautifully-honed skill upon which to hang my hat (painting, photography...something!). Not having that one true thing always left me feeling a little bit, well, inferior. But as I've matured, I've come to realize that I always confused "artistic" with "creative." Now I can see more of the creativity in my work for what it is, and celebrate my creative bent without denigration. I'll never paint like Monet, photograph like Ansel Adams, or build like Frank Gehry. But I've finally come to peace with the fact that the breadth of my creative interests and endeavors is actually a strength to be widely drawn from, not an indication that I am unable to master one sole trade. My trade is marketing, and its backbone is solidly constructed with creativity. It's not about one industry, one skill set, or one strength. And that's exactly why I gravitated to it. The creative process is a tough one to complete. One never knows where it will lead, or what path will arrive at its finish line. Now when somebody reads through my work, leafs through my portfolio of brochures, or looks around my home at the discarded furniture I found and granted a new life through carefully-applied color and texture, I feel perfectly comfortable with them calling me "creative." The more perspective I develop with age and experience, the more respect I'm developing for the creative process itself and the less likely I am to always measure results so concretely. In working with clients, I strive to bring them thoughtful new perspective in how they view their business, and in what they hope it will become. I work more by encouraging clients to think about what their audiences should feel and think about their products and services than by asking them what they really think their brochure should say. And while I know for a fact that I'll never see any of my creative output hanging in a museum, I'm quite comfortable that I have made important creative contributions to the people and organizations that I have helped to communicate and reach out to their clients. I'll never be a doctor, lawyer, or Indian chief as I used to expect when I graduated from a competitive college and made my first foray into the professional world. What I "do for a living" will always be a little harder to define and measure, perhaps. My career will always incorporate flexibility, fluidity, and yes, lots of creativity. And while being a creative person means that not every knitting project arrives at completion, I'm learning to not only live with that, but also to appreciate it for what it represents. The creative process is a tough one to complete. One never knows where it will lead, or what path will arrive at its finish line. And while at some point you do have to call it quits, creative ideas do beget more creative ideas. Sometimes the finish line is best drawn in chalk, or better yet, suspended between stakes for mobility's sake. But the toughest step is always the first, not the last; asking oneself "what if..." and letting the creative juices guide the flow from there. So I would have taken that charm that says "CREATE," and that one that says "COMPLETE", too. I'd use them both as amulets, reminders that where I contribute most is in the process between the two.
Leslie Silverman provides creative marketing communications solutions to a wide variety of clients. She lives in Connecticut. » email to a friend
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