True art requires utter commitment. That applies to creativity of any type. The artist is a vehicle to “body forth” the new idea.
Here is Martin Buber’s take
“This is the eternal source of art: (I) am faced by a form which desires to be made (by me) into a work. This form is no offspring of (my) soul, but is an appearance which steps up to it and demands of it the effective power… The work does not suffer me to turn aside and relax into the world of It; but it commands. If I do not serve it aright it is broken, or it breaks me.”
I think that “bodying forth” is an accurate description of creative birth. I also have a note to myself on commitment. My wife (a psychoanalytic psychotherapist) talks of “claustro-acrophobia”, roughly translated as – sitting in the fence. Well, true originality requires utter commitment to the relationship with the idea. Otherwise the idea is broken and so am I…
Humans are fundamentally creative; it is in our nature to originate.This requires us to live close to boundaries.That’s hard, painful because edges are unsafe. They are the source of the unknown – not just because of what lies beyond the boundary – but mostly because of what new forces are stirred up at the tidal line where systems interact.
There is a condition known by psychoanalyists as claustroagrophobia. This is a type of psychosis when a person lives on the shoulder of many societies. Claustrophobic if immersed at the centre of a group, agrophobic if excluded. It seems to me that many great thinkers may have expressed this as a quality, rather than a problem – oscillating between sociability and introversion, living even in this way at the boundary between the external and internal world.
The reward for this stressful unsafe existence? Certainly not money or security. It is the glistening fish of a truly new idea – hooked and netted out of the maelstrom and whirlpool of the meeting of many worlds.
When we create something unique and original – whether written, composed, painted, or thought – it is hard work. Analagous to giving birth.
“This is the eternal source of art: a man is faced by a form whihc desires to be made through him into a work. This form is no offspring of his soul, but is an appearance which steps up to it and demands of it the effective power. The man is concerned iwth an act of his being. If he carries it through, if he speaks the primary word out of his being to the form which appears, then the effective power streams out, and the work arises. The act includes a sacrifice and a risk. This is the sacrifice; the endless possibility that is offered up on the alter FJLof form. For everything which just this moment in play ran through the perspective must be obliterated; nothin of that may penetrate the work. The exclusiveness of what is facing it demands that it be so. This is the risk: the primary word can only be spoken with the whole being. He who gives himself to it may withhold nothing of himself. The work does not suffer me.. to turn aside and relax in the world of It; but it commands. If I do not serve JLit aright it is broken, or it breaks me.”
Martin Buber Ich und Du
You join up the dots of the stars my love
With your patterned impassionate being
Reflecting below what’s mirrored above
Rich-sequined your fabric of feeling
Casually spendthrift the joy that you’ve sewn
Causally spindrift, engagingly freed
Harvesting concepts, organically grown
Wittily warm anthropological creed
The gilded arpeggio of moonlight
Which butterfly soft-wings your thinking
Fritillary froth-daffled the insight
Of your Mesopotamian a-musing
disarmingly charmingly, conspiring
In a furnace of creative inquiring