The Compulsion to Create
Why would anyone put themselves through the design process, knowing full well that despite concerted effort, their vision will likely never see the light of day? Is it ego? Is it self serving ignorance? Is it just sheer stupidity?
We create because we can. It validates our emotions and ideas, bolstering our beliefs and massaging our egos. Be it art or engineering, the creative process is an exploration of our ever-transforming physical and spiritual environment. We dissect and recombine materials and ideas to help us understand why the world is the way it is, forever searching for improvements.
Personally, when a design idea hits me, it leads to a form of tunnel-vision. Mental images swirl from out of the ether, and all of a sudden I am overwhelmed with the urge to bring them to life, much like Dr. Frankentstein and his patchwork cadaver. In all likelihood the mechanics or expenses won’t work out, but you never know unless you try. Any number of stumbling blocks can bring the process to a halt, and though I do love navigating my ideas through the maze of physics and aesthetics, I’ll admit that the majority of them never make it past the finish line. Forgotten prototypes pile up, collecting dust in darkened closets, a mass grave of creative defeat. It’s frustrating, embarrassing, and deeply depressing. Yet, the compulsion never goes away. I never learn my lesson. My brain smushes a couple of concepts together and all of a sudden my heart is so impassioned with this new pet that all misery of the recent past is conveniently wiped clean. I tell myself, “With every project my knowledge expands by degrees so I won’t fall for the same traps. This time will be different”. And perhaps that is partially true, but alas my pride is outfitted with blinders and those same traps ensnare me again and again.
Am I a masochist? It has just occurred to me that I’m going about this all wrong, maybe my compulsion to create is not so predicated on pride and whether an idea lives or dies. Perhaps it is more akin to the urges of a gambler. By no means do I think my compulsion can be considered an addiction, but I do think there are similarities. The ecstasy of winning is a powerful drug, but the contrary proves true too. Many gamblers admit that they are also addicted to losing. All of the exhilarating odds and possibilities are what gets their endorphins humming, not the end results. It’s the perpetual risk taking that keeps people from leaving the card table. Now, I don’t sidle up to a card table, I hunker down at a wooden desk, with notebooks, and pens, and clay and computer at my disposal. As I trudge away, am I concerned whether my designs will succeed or ultimately fail? Honestly, that’s not really what compels me to sit here. It is the focused time spent hunched drawing, CADding, sculpting, and thinking that fulfills my urges. The mental workout IS the goal. Deciphering the puzzle enhances my creative muscles, it widens my arsenal of talents. So, in reality the compulsion to create is an endless spiral of self-flagellation and self-expansion.
It isn’t the world I’m trying to improve through design, it is myself.