Why Do You Create: Discussing The Why of Creating
September 1, 2009
I’m having one of those days when I know I should write but don’t have a strong compulsion to write about anything in particular. This is symptomatic of a blessing in disguise. There are, in fact, many things I want to write about. My struggle is in deciding which topic in particular to write about.
In these situations, I do one of two things. 1) I sit and stare at something beautiful and let my mind wonder until some theme, issue, or idea stands out as paramount; or 2) I just start writing and see what comes up. Because I have things to do, I’ve gone with the latter rather than the former.
As a result, I stumbled upon this perennial question: “Why do I write (or more generally create)?” Sometimes, by asking “why?” I can come up with an answer for the question, “what?”
After a bit of reflection, I settled on these three reasons why I write, in this order of importance: 1) I write to understand the world, myself, and others; 2) I write for the intrinsic pleasure of it; 3) I write to educate / entertain.
There is also a plausible fourth reason to write but it does not seem essential to me: recognition from others.
I share my writing because it can be useful to others, because I can learn a lot from people’s reactions to it, and because the give and take of discussion can be a lot fun. Even so, in a hypothetical universe that contains only me, I would happily continue to write.
So why do you write and / or create? I’d love to hear your thoughts.
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Good words and very interesting… I’m having one of those days, so I’m trying to make it constructive by giving some feedback to people! haha
Thanks for reading and commenting. Always appreciated!
When stymied, I also try to read and comment on blogs. It works. it helped this time around too. I soon found myself rattling off lengthy responses, so I knew it wasn’t a question of an inability to make words but more a case of getting the required focus.
I’ve seen that too! I think you just described what I usually end up doing when posting on blogs, somewhat ironically.
Nice.
What’s that they say about great minds …?
Great minds think alike! Haha, thanks!
Very interesting post.
I’m a great believer in creativity-as-self-indulgence. I write music, for example, that I myself would like to hear. While it would be nice, of course, for other people to enjoy it also, this (ideally) should be of secondary importance: what matters most to me is that I enjoyed the composing/recording process (and its results!).
I’m not sure if this holds true for other writing (ie. my blog) as that is also influenced by your 3rd and 4th reasons. Certainly, I’ve written some postings with an eye towards informing others of my excrutiatingly correct opinions(tongue-in-cheek!)as well as fostering discussion.
Thanks IB, for reading and your comment!
I tend to write music as a kind of fun time-passer that results in something tangible. I could play a video game for twelve hours or I could write a song. Song-writing, especially on a computer, is for me much more like doing a puzzle than a form of self-expression.
Creating with words, on the other hand, for me has always been more about discovery and understanding of the world, self, and others rather than pure playful self-indulgence. While I will readily admit this kind of navel gazing can be self-indulgent, I think for me it was essential.
Initially, I created a blog because it represented a means of distribution that didn’t involve getting anyone’s approval for distribution and because it didn’t create an obligation in anyone to read it. It was there to be enjoyed or ignored at the discretion of the wandering surfer.
Over time, I’ve really come to value the give and take of the social aspects of blogging. What’s more, it has definitely affected and improved my writing. I still blog primarily for myself but I am now more than willing to blog in a way which also takes into consideration the tastes and wishes of my regular readers. They give to me by reading and responding, so I give back by letting their input affect how I blog. It seems to me that “blogging” is for me a kind of writing which is social — by definition — in way that my other writing is not (even if I am happy to share both).
All true. But I think we’re conflating creation and communication here.
As you say, music lends itself very well to self-indulgent free play, but “verbal” writing is a communicative act and therefore necessarily takes on a social dimension not required of music. Naturally, it’s still a creative act, but the self-indulgence is tempered the necessity of conveying meaning (for whatever reason) to an other.
Perhaps the beauty of writing lies in its negotiation of these two poles.
True: all creations need not communicate, however, all communication is a creation.
I think it is fair to say some (but not all) music is a communicative act and, for this reason, has a social dimension. Some folks (but not all) even believe music should “communicate”. I remember taking “music appreciation” after-school classes as a wee lad and being asked to say what I thought the music communicated. So, I’m not sure music isn’t tempered in the same fashion as writing.
Upon further reflection, the difference seems to me to lie in the building blocks of the creation. Tone, pitch, and rhythm interact much differently than the written word. Of course, maybe the difference seems to exist to me one because, in terms of music, I am really very much like a toddler babbling / writing for the first time.
In your reply to Nadine, you said: “Always feel free to respond for as long or as little as you think warranted.”
Big mistake, sucka. Here is a completely unwarranted lengthy tangent I wrote last night:
I really like this discussion, so please indulge my metaphysics for a moment.
I’m not sure I’d say communication *is* creation, but that it entails creation (of the communicative act). Perhaps communication is the dissemination of a creation. I’m probably abstracting this too much, but I think we can differentiate the two functions (although I agree that they are inseparable when it comes to verbal writing, yet still exists as parallel impulses in the writing process).
As for the music/writing dichotomy, I agree they may actually be similar in form, that pitch and rhythm do work similarly to language. Umberto Eco said that music is language shorn of semantic content. After all, music does have a “grammar” of sorts and, like words, notes are defined rhythmically and harmonically through difference: it’s not the notes, but rather the spaces between notes that count.
Still, it may be that the nub of the argument is that I’m associating communication with semantics. I’m taking communicating to mean a transmission of some definable idea. This is why, strictly speaking, I’m not sure music should/ought (not saying it necessarily shouldn’t) communicate anything (idea, emotion, etc). Evoke, perhaps. The listener’s reaction to music is more subjective than a reader’s understanding of words, which undermines the drive to fidelity required of communication. In order for communication to work, the receiver must correctly understand what is being communicated, and there is no correct understanding in music. Or, at least, there oughtn’t’be.
This of course is complicated by song lyrics which clearly are communicative, but I’d argue that they are not music, but extra-musical semantic content that is added on to the music of the song (singing is still music in this rubric, though). One of the things I love so much about West African funk, aside from the awesome polyrhythms, is that I don’t understand the words, so the vocals become pure sound. I suppose a general feeling of joy (even if the song isn’t meant necessarily to be joyous) is “communicated”, but it seems to me that this is ancillary to the creative act.
Now, I can gainsay all of this by asking if a piece of music that is never heard is actually music. Like you say, music has a social dimension – it exists in the interaction between audience and performer. As the great 70s rock band and noted communications theorist, Triumph, said on one of its album covers: “We are the band, you are the music”. But again, I think this view, while true, still conflates creation and the communication of that creation as concepts (even if the two occur simultaneously).
Still this has nothing to do with your original post, so I apologize for the rather self-indulgent tangent. Looking back at your original post I realize, I’d forgotten what we were originally talking about, which was … ummm … so … think they’ll trade Heatley?
Great reply! I am happy to read and discuss it.
I think we are on the same page, but some minor grammatical points are obscuring it. I hadn’t intended to claim communication is creation — that is, that they are identical. I meant only, an instance of communication is necessarily something that is created and, therefore, always a creation. I think this is what you are driving at too.
Re: music / words. The point I was driving at is that my understanding of music may not be all that different than say my command of French. I can get the gist of French and even follow along but I don’t have the sophistication of communication that I sometimes have in English (I say sometimes because a lot depends on the other person in the conversation). So, I can easily imagine two sophisticated “music-speakers” having as complex a conversation as the one we are having now using only music (E.g. Close Encounters of Third Kind) and I simply won’t get it — in the same way, a lot of folks don’t really get what’s going on when a conversation goes deeply metaphysical and academic. It’s not all that different from dialects. My command of the musical language may be too idiosyncratic or too unsophisticated to keep up with the conversation.
There may be no one correct understanding of some piece of music, but there are certainly better and worse understandings of a piece of music — and the same can be said I think of any utterance or piece of written communication.
I agree that lyrics don’t have exactly the same function as they might have in poetry or a short story. But it depends on the song and the listener. That’s why lots of folks don’t get hip-hop. For a lot of MCs, the rhymes create a kind of “semantic rhythm” over and above the underlying beat and the cognitive sense of what is said is less important. Some MCs and songwriter do both the rhythm and the cognitive at the same time — and they are awesome.
Musical notation is really no different than written words; the sounds associated with them are no different than the sounds associated with words. To say music or language is really only one or the other kind of misses the point.
Okay, I think we agree on the communication/creation point, but I’m not sure about the whole “musical conversation” thing as musical statements don’t have any semantic content. While I suppose you could argue that interactions between parts in a composition is somewhat dialogic (Bakhtin, anyone?), I don’t think I’d go as far as to call it conversation except in the most superficial sense.
Also, you say “there are certainly better and worse understandings of a piece of music”. I’m not sure how you’d evaluate this. With verbal communication, it’s simple: does my understanding coincide with the intended understanding of the utterer? I suppose I’d have to understand what you mean here by “understanding” as it applies to music.
Granted composers may have particular things they want to evoke, but if I don’t associate, say, Berlioz’s “March To The Scaffold” with the French Revolution, I don’t think this impairs my appreciation for the work. In fact, I’m a-gonna have to agree with Nietszche that connecting a piece of music with something concrete constrains it. It’s all just math anyway.
Finally, I don’t follow your last paragraph. Just to be clear, when I was talking about “notes”, I wasn’t referring to the now obsolete practice of music notation (what Charles Mingus refers to as “pencil composing”).
Whoops, forgot to add:
If you want a perverse example of music carrying definable “content”, the Aphex Twin inserts images into his sounds which can be seen when the sound is analyzed through a spectrograph.
See: http://www.bastwood.com/aphex.php
But this is really just a gimmicky novelty.
I’m not sure, either. I flag it only as a possibility because anything, as language-use empirically demonstrates, can be used to communicate meaning. Whether or not humans actually communicate with music, and to what extent, is simply an empirical question. That it is a possibility is a fact, whether it happens amongst humans is uncertain. For example, it is clear animals already do.
I’m not convinced “best understanding” = “intended understanding of the utterer.” The utterer’s intentions are relevant but not authoritative. For example, a person can be racist whether they intend it or not.
As with all things Nietszche, he has a point but one needn’t take it to his lengths. It can constrain but it needn’t always constrain. Some music is well served by such constraints and some isn’t.
Maybe I misunderstood what you were driving at in your paragraph. My point: music exists whether or not it is performed in the same way language exists wether or not it is spoken. Ultimately, like almost all metaphysics, it’s just a question of definition with respect to the relevant terms and an implicit favoring of one side of the equation or the other. Triumph, for example, seems to think the audience’s experience of music is the most important element. Thus, the implied claim that it is where music really happens
Hmm, this conversation has sparked as of yet unintelligible idea. I think I will let my right brain take care of it for awhile….
Now we’re getting to the heart of the matter: “anything, as language-use empirically demonstrates, can be used to communicate meaning.” What is the meaning of a piece of music? Can we say that “Bitches Brew” has a meaning?
Now, the animal music, such as bird song, often does have “meaning”: ie. I am here, please come fuck me. In this case, the music in question is more functional than aesthetic and I don’t think this principle necessarily applies to music in general/abstract.
But again, this depends on what we mean by meaning. If you were to say that what is communicated is the rhythmic and harmonic values of the assemblage of notes as defined differentially, then I’d have to say fair enough, but I think that rather waters down the concepts of meaning and communication. For my part, I’m associating “meaning” with signification/semantics.
What I am driving at: anything can act as a symbol in a system of symbols to convey meaning. A moving index finger says “come here” as well as the utterance or the written letters. The squiggly lines of Arabic are as functional as the Roman alphabet. An inflection of the voice is as effective as a question mark. If people can write poetry or short fiction in sign-language, than they could certainly write poetry with the various components of music. If we assigned meanings to the notes and created a grammar, then yes a song could have a specific meaning. The interesting thing for me is that we (as a species) haven’t created a system for music (on a large scale) which would create that meaning, when it is an empirically possibility.
I’m not sure I understand the functional – aesthetic distinction. The features of a communicative act which invoke an aesthetic experience are as much a function as the features which get me to act. Armies used horns to communicate to their troops. Some of the commands are aesthetically pleasing.
From what I take your perspective to be, my position is this: Just because the elements of music have not been enmeshed in the sort of system that would allow them to signify for a wide group of people with some predictability, it doesn’t it mean it’s not possible.
Okay, that makes sense. In fact it has already been done:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solresol
But the point remains that though such a form of music-as-literal-language is possible, most “music” isn’t like that (ie. unlike Solresol, it doesn’t carry any semantic meaning). And besides, does anyone actually speak Solresol?
Moreover, I’d argue that putting music to such a use is simply applying a function to an aesthetic object. Also, by this line of reasoning, you could argue that all vocal speech is inherently musical (which, I suppose it could be).
When I talk about the functional and aesthetic (really just a positive euphemism for “serving no practical purpose”), I don’t mean to establish two mutually exclusive categories; a piece of music can indeed be both functional and aesthetic at the same time. Though a horn signal can be both practically communicative and aesthetically pleasing, these are distinguishable functions. For example, the fact that it may be aesthetically pleasing doesn’t impinge upon its communicative function. I mean, you wouldn’t say, “Dang, I really dig that horn blast because it clearly and effectively commands me to charge.” Advertising jingles may also be a good example of this.
Thanks for the link! Most interesting.
I agree most music is not understood by most listeners in this fashion. That fact, for me, is interesting. I wonder if there might be some kind of explanation for this in brain function.
Ah yes I see. I use the term aesthetic in a slightly different fashion, which explains my confusion. For me, “aesthetic” describes a practical function: something is aesthetic if it can or is used to bring about certain kinds of experiences in people. Art, of one kind or another, has a very practical function: to invoke in me certain kinds of feeling. If it doesn’t do that, it is, for me, unsuccessful art.
Agreed. The aesthetic function does not impinge on the communicative function and it can even enhance it. I like your example of a jingle. “Buy my burger” communicated in a aesthetically successful fashion is more likely to be paid attention to and acted upon.
Useful stuff.
I’m so glad you posted this!
When I applied to York University for theatre, part of the admissions process involved an audition followed by an interview. A member of the selection panel asked me, “Why do you want to be an actor?”
I remember widening my eyes, hoping I looked impassioned. “Because acting is the most important thing in my life! It’s what makes me ME!” I told them.
That was bullshit. I didn’t have much sense of who I was at eighteen. To this day, I regret that I didn’t think about my answer before I opened my mouth. I wish I’d thought I about it then told the truth.
But opportunity knocks again. This time I’ll try to answer honestly:
I have fun with it.
Typos not withstanding, I prefer my written expression to the way I speak. For example, when I re-read my blog I feel I come across as slightly more entertaining and definitely more coherent than I do in conversation.
I have a messy, scattered mind. As an artist, I can create in a messy, scattered way which people generally accept because it falls under the auspices of “creative”.
I love reading authors with a strong, distinctive voice. I write, hoping that someday I will find my voice too.
Creativity is the something which I feel distinguishes me from me other family members. I use to hate that. Now I kind of dig it.
I’m not noble. I enjoy attention and applause. I get that a lot more as an actor than I would as say, an accountant.
I feel purposeful when I’m creating – even if it’s only for my own enjoyment.
Writing/acting don’t necessarily *make* me who I am. But they allow me to express who I am or at least aspects of who I am. My grandmother was an gifted visual artist and a fine musician. To some degree, I suspect it is in my DNA.
I could give you more reasons, but you called for thoughts, not a novel.
Always feel free to respond for as long or as little as you think warranted.
Writing doesn’t make me who I am but it definitely made me who I am. I say this because I could probably stop writing if I had to but I wouldn’t be the person I am if had never been so caught up in writing. Although, as soon as I say it, I wonder if the first part is true because writing is so tied up to how I think and engage with the world. Even while drunk on a beautiful beach in Grenada, I found myself jotting down notes.
I create because, out of all the things I’m good at, the process of creating is what scares me the most. And when I’m scared, I work extra hard. And when I work extra hard, I love how I spend my time and usually get a rush at the end result.
Natalie thanks for reading and the reply. So, it’s a bit like the fun of a roller coaster.
Can I ask, what about it scares you?
I write to tell stories. Stories that I hope intrigue other people, but fundamentally stories that intrigue me. And writing (well, writing through comics) is the best means I have to tell those stories.
That’s it, that’s all.
Thanks Von!
What is the draw in story-telling?
The reasons I write are very different from the reasons I create music. Music to me just kind of happens spontaneously. It’s a form of relaxation more than it is expression of ideas. Writing for me is not at all relaxing. Writing is work but it is effort that I feel is worth expending. Here’s why I write:
1. I write to give cohesion and form to my thoughts. In order to know what I think, I have to discuss it and write about it. Sometimes it’s the other way round and the writing happens before the discussion.
2. I write to influence the behaviour of others.
3. I write because people pay me to write.
4. I write because playing with words is fun for me.
Thanks for starting this conversation Sterling. I’m enjoying the discussion very much.
Thanks for your reply!
Do you feel like getting in on the music vs. words conversation: Why, for you, is music making relaxing and spontaneous, if writing is work that is worth the effort?
I “art” for the same reason you make music, Wayne. Drawing and painting is pure play. It feels healthy to have a creative outlet reserved purely for fun.
BTW, you musicians are blowing my mind! Fourteen years I studied the piano and I can barely bang my way through the scales! You people can make whole songs from nothing. Fresh, warm awesomecakes, is what that is!
It occurs to me that I don’t really make a distinction between fun and work. Work is fun and fun is work. As y’all know, I even take my games very seriously.
I think I distinguish between “doing something with a purpose” and “purposeless activity”. I actually find the goal-orientated activities more fun and the purposeless activities less fun.
Nadine, I’m sure you’d have no problem writing songs, if you gave yourself the chance. Start simple ( singing over a couple of chords) and go from there. I’ve heard you sing, so I know you can do it and it would be good.
Thought I’d jump in here to offer a quick quibble. I don’t think musicians make songs from nothing, but rather simply rearrange extant patterns and forms. Any possible melody or rhythm you can imagine already exists as a mathematical possibility. It’s really just a matter of “finding it”.
That’s a surprisingly platonic assertion!
Accordingly, it can be said about anything. I’m not convinced “mathematical possibility” entails “already exists”, but I’m also not convinced –like most metaphysics — very much turns on the question of whether or not music is “found” or “created.” Of course, belief one way or the other may affect one’s own psychology.
Nah, it’s simpler than that (and yes, it is rather Platonic): there’s only so many notes and ways of combining them. As the KLF/Timelords/Justified Ancients of Mumu say, “There’s no lost chord. No changes untried. No extra notes to the scale or hidden beats to the bar.”
But really, what I (and the KLF) was getting at is that pretty much all of what is considered music just recycles the same familiar patterns. What sounds good is what sounds familiar (this is why most non-pretentious people, upon hearing avant-garde music say it’s “just noise”).
I agree with the sentiment of the observation but it seems to be mixing a question of mathematics and question of aesthetic judgment. We could, for example, start dividing the pitches differently and get new notes, scales and chords. I’m not sure they’d be very pleasant to listen to but we could do it. Of course, whether or not the new notes or chords are different enough to be of much use or are so different they are un-pleasing is a different question.
Ah, but music is where mathematics and aesthetics meet; I’d call it aestheticized math.
Anyway, you can slice and dice the octave (a mathematical constant) anyway you want, though once you get beyond quarter-tones, the differences really become negligible to the human ear (and basically just sound slightly out of tune). Even then, compare a possible 48 or 96 notes to the octave with 100 000 or so words in the English language and you can see the possible combinations (this is looking only at melody, mind you) are much more limited and finite than in verbal language.
But this somewhat misses the point. It’s not the notes that count, but the ratios between them (mathematical expressions of waveforms). Certain ratios just sound “better”. For example, what’s called the major 5th in the Western 12-tone diatonic scale is generally considered the most harmonious interval (as opposed to the augmented 4th: the Devil’s Interval). Now is this arbitrary and culturally learned? I’d be inclined to say “yes”, except it’s pretty much constant across various musical systems (even bird song makes use of the major 5th). So, it seems there’s something about how those wave frequencies line up. This is an example of what I’m referring to when talking about a priori patterns and conventions.
Very useful! Am I right in thinking that traditional music in China and Japan use a different scale. I’m sure I heard that before.
I wonder also, are notes and words the correct comparison? Aren’t notes more akin to phonemes (I find one estimate which says 14 vowels and 22 consonants) ?