Paper I submitted for my Atlantic University TP5150 Course – August 15, 2020
The chapter we read this week from Eric Maisel encompassed ten personality traits he identified as critical elements of an artist or creative person (2007, pp. 25-45). I covered his seventh trait, “Self-direction,” in my weekly post, which, as I explained, was essential for my communications career thus far. His tenth trait, “Nonconformity,” is related to self-direction, and has also been critical to the path I chose.
After graduating from college, I went to Washington, D.C. to work an election cycle in the area of research and press. I returned to Boston after less than two years and launched a political communications company with someone slightly older than me. However, neither of us had ever run our own business. My mother was concerned that I was launching my own company so shortly after graduating from college and I didn’t have much work experience.
She may have been right in retrospect, yet, I stuck to my guns, and away we went. While we weren’t wildly successful, we did manage to make ends meet, and it also provided me the confidence to launch several other businesses throughout my career. I’ve spent approximately 80% of my now thirty-five-year communications career working for myself.
Maisel describes the nonconformity personality trait as “the sum total of the ways in which artists, resolved to manifest their individuality, revolt against prevailing customs and beliefs” (2007, p. 41). Not only was I revolting against the traditional notion my mother expressed by not working for someone else for a significant period of time before striking out on my own, when I did work in public relations agencies, I also didn’t last very long. I’ve never been a “corporate guy,” and I rebelled against the economic structure of a business that “demanded” creativity under budget and on time. It’s not to say that my own business didn’t have deadlines and that I didn’t produce creative products in exchange for money. The difference was I set the terms, not someone else.
Nancy Andreasen notes an interesting paradox contained with creative people who display this “indifference to convention,” just as I have throughout my career. Creative individuals are also sensitive, which “may take two forms: sensitivity to what others are experiencing, or sensitivity to what the individual himself or herself is experiencing” (2005, p. 31). Andreasen notes that this nonconformity can also lead to “feelings of alienation or loneliness” as well as “a blurring of the boundaries of identify or self” (2005, p. 31). My work hasn’t always been consistent, and I’ve always dreaded trying to get new business.
I have experienced both forms of sensitivity, as there’s been some very long and lonely dark nights of the soul in my career. There were times when I experienced anxiety and isolation over whether I could meet expenses, and I’ve had my share of unpleasant clients who put undue pressure on me. I was usually my harshest critic, and when there was a mistake with a print run, for example, it could incapacitate me. I dreaded making that phone call to tell the client about an issue, and I would toss and turn the night before as I rehashed over and over in my head about how it would likely turn out.
It’s also virtually impossible to be creative when in this state of anxiety. My mind would become consumed by dread and fear, and even a simple task like getting lunch appeared insurmountable. Inevitably, whatever the problem was that sent me into such a state was overblown. After a phone call with the client, where I had already developed a contingency plan since I had thought about nonstop, the person was pleasant, and whatever dreadful reprucussions I dreamed up in my head didn’t come to pass.
The tendency for creative people to be nonconformists and live on the edges also enables them to be “observers,” as Andreasen describes it (2005, p. 38). She adds that creative “people have the capacity to be disengaged and dispassionate observers” (2005, p. 39). Again, it seems paradoxical to describe us as “dispassionate” when I just explained how a mistake could cripple me. However, the disengaged observation occurs more in the interactions with the clients, and other employees when I worked for an agency, and not with the creative work itself.
One of the reasons I didn’t particularly appreciate working for other people was the relentless office politics that occurred. It seemed that people would waste so much time trying to jockey for recognition and promotions, and I had no interest in participating in the game. It’s also why I never got promoted, I suppose!
My “disengaged and dispassionate” ability to observe I found invaluable, however. In big agency meetings with a client, while everyone was falling over themselves to be noticed, I would calmly sit back and listen to what the client wanted us to do. I would also begin the creative process by envisioning potential ad campaigns along what they suggested. I wasn’t trying to show off my creativity and ego, and I understood that the client would ultimately tell us how they wanted their campaign executed. This allowed me to typically have better relationships with the clients since I spoke their language, another point of contention with my superiors since I wouldn’t go through “official” channels when I talked to them.
Another paradox is that creative people also tend to have “out-of-box” thinking, as Robert Weisberg describes it. He continues that the “‘box’ that one must get out of is the constraints that the past, in the form of our experience and habits, imposes on us” (2006, p. 102). There are times to think “out-of-box” when someone has hired you to produce a creative product.
However, if you’re too busy jockeying for their attention as I discussed above, you genuinely don’t understand the individual’s personality. In that case, an off-the-wall idea will fall flat on its face, and can anger the client. In a creative meeting, an “out-of-the-box” concept must still be within the larger box of the client’s positioning, budget, and, ultimately, their comfort level. Again, my strength came in intuitively understanding a client and their needs because I was a “disengaged and dispassionate” observer.
Finally, Bunny Paine-Clemes puts these perceived paradoxes I described above another way. She describes a need for a balance of forces and adds that there “seems to be a delicate balance of yin and yang, of feminine receptivity and masculine force or will” (2015, p. 134). I have felt this pull in my creative career. There are times to be a quiet observer, to allow others to carry the conversation, and to take the limelight. And, you can’t be self-employed if there aren’t times where you must lead the action. This could come in the form of having to charge more money for changes to the creative or even dismissing a client.
I find the times I get into trouble is when I let the yin or yang dominate too much. Typically, for me, it’s been the feminine receptivity that gets me into trouble. These are the times I beat myself up too much, although these events are becoming fewer and farther between as I get older. Maybe I’m finally reaching that balance!
References
Andreasen, N. (2005), The creative brain: the science of genius, New York, NY: First Plume Publishing
Maisel, E. (2007), Creativity for life, Novato, CA: New World Library
Paine-Clemes, B. (2015), Creative synergy: using art, science, and philosophy to self-actualize your life,” Virginia Beach, VA: 4th Dimension Press
Weisberg, R. (2006), Creativity: understanding innovation in problem solving, science, invention, and the arts, Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc.