When it comes to your creative output, if you want to be loved, learn to be loathed.

I had a bit of a revelation the other day, courtesy of the Daily Mail (and I don’t say that often). My dear mum-in-law handed me one of their give-away CDs, full of rock anthems which she ‘knew I’d love’ because I like rock music. It was kind of her and I thanked her, checked the tracks and then, soon as it was safe chucked it in the bin.

So what was the revelation? It was this – I don’t like rock music.

Actually I’ve been a big fan of rock for well over 30 years, but it suddenly dawned on me that there’s a lot more rock I don’t like than rock I do like. I have to say it felt a bit weird.

I turned my attention to another musical passion – the blues – and among all those early giants that I love, the one who towers above them all, Robert Johnson, leaves me cold. It took some courage to admit that. As far as I can tell it’s actually not permitted to say you don’t like him. Well, I don’t.

What this made me realise is that if I or anyone else is going to put their work out to be liked and appreciated, we have to accept there’ll be an awful lot of otherwise well balanced folk who don’t give a toss about our stuff. And there’ll be plenty more who absolutely hate it.

Trying to Please Everyone

One method I know very well that’s guaranteed to fail – trying to please everyone. Oh yes, I’ve certainly suffered from this in my time. It’s a wonderful strategy that’s based on fear and that’s sure to keep you safe and unnoticed in the middle of the pack.

Did I say safe?

Safe in a prison of your own making perhaps. Safe from the exhilaration of risk and reward. Safe from the joy of discovery and the wisdom that grows out of the occasional embarrassing cock-ups and errors of judgement.

Most of all though, safe from any real chance of success.

And by success I don’t just mean the recognition and applause of others. I also mean that simple, gorgeous success of creating something you are proud of for yourself. Something that when you revisit it gives you on of those delicious wow!-did-I-do-that? moments.

You could, perhaps, achieve success by choosing to please a few people. You could maybe achieve it by aiming to please only yourself. And many have achieved it by targeting an audience who they want to annoy, or even distress.

But you can’t do it by trying to please everyone.

If you want to be loved, learn to be loathed. I dare you to be disliked.

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You may also wish to read:
Do You Have the Creative X Factor?
Where’s the Quality? A Creative Conundrum

What do the following have in common?

• The short story competition entrant whose story is expensively bound and beautifully printed on the finest paper
• The budding DJ who has spent 10 grand on kit he has no idea how to use
• The con man dressed impeccably in a Saville Row suit in order to gain the confidence of the rich widow

Well, they are all artists in one form or another – but more importantly, they are all trying to gain advantage by the quality of their kit. Is that cruel? Maybe. Is it wrong? Not necessarily.

Writing last week about my time judging the short story competitions reminded me of another strange phenomenon – the inverse relationship between an expensively produced script and the quality of the writing. It became obvious pretty quickly that while these stories were rarely very bad, they were also equally rarely very good.

There was definitely some con work going on, though I was never sure whether it was aimed at the writer or the reader. Perhaps it was both. I think the clue is in that three letter word ‘con’, a contraction of ‘confidence – perhaps reflecting the writers’ lack of confidence in their writing standing up for itself.

Like most areas of life, however, it’s rarely as simple as that.

Great work ‘undersold’

I’ve also seen a lack of confidence show itself in the opposite direction, in which case the artist may find it difficult to justify finishing their work to a professional standard – even though the work itself fully deserves it. This is something my wife has had to combat in the past.

And whilst going over the top may well act as a signal that there’s some compensation going on, the truth is that in most spheres if you want to be considered professional – or at least taken seriously – you do need to conform to professional standards of production. You need to show your own confidence in the value of your work for others to value it.

The power of ‘quality’

So are people really swayed by peripheral appearances? You bet. You only have to see the difference a well chosen frame makes to a painting to see that. And like it or not some artistic ideas work at their best with serious money spent on their production.

Of course, top quality materials can enhance work that perhaps isn’t top quality in its own right. There are plenty of examples of that in every sphere of creativity (I’d love to hear your examples) – which brings us inevitably to Damien Hirst’s diamond encrusted platinum casting of a human skull. There’s been a lot of negative response to this piece: there are skulls everywhere already, and so the symbol is overused and lacking power as an artistic statement: it’s empty headed, like the society that created it, etc.

But there can clearly be times when the excessive quality of the materials and workmanship are intrinsic to the meaning of the piece. I think Damien Hirst’s Skull, For The Love Of God, is the best example of this I’ve ever seen. If I had a spare 50 million quid (after buying my favourite football club, Sheffield Wednesday, of course) I’d definitely be in for it.

What then can we learn from this quality conundrum? Well, perhaps that a little self understanding and self consciousness about our own approach to questions of ‘quality’ could be a good thing. Are we underselling our talents by holding back on the quality of presentation? Will our work and ideas be better received by investing more in the materials? Or are we focussing too much on the tools we need (the thousand pound computer that’s only used for word processing, for instance), at the expense of focus on the actual work?

It’s worth pondering.

And what about myself? Well, I drafted this in pencil on the back of waste A4 paper and then redrafted onto an oldish but serviceable computer. If you look carefully you can see the halo.

On the other hand, having established my weakness for shiny things, I am seriously pining for a beautiful and expensive steel-bodied resonator guitar, which I’m certain would transform me into a master of the blues. And Damien, if you happen to read this, the diamonds are optional.

See also:

• Why Your Writing, Art or Music Must Command Instant Attention
• Perfectionism – a Creative and Artistic Straight-Jacket – and How to Escape it

Here’s a simple, harsh truth – if your art, writing, music (or whatever your own creative shtick is) doesn’t demand almost instant attention, it will be passed over by just about everyone.

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Have you ever wondered if all the stories sent in to short story competitions get read?

I’ll give you the answer – NO!

How about films in short film competitions – do they fare any better? NO.

Music demos? YES! Just kidding – NO!

And do paintings get properly viewed? Of course not.

Is that fair? Is it right?

Who cares? It’s a fact. And no matter how your art reaches an audience, there’s a gigantic lesson to take from this – grab your audience’s attention fast, or don’t bother.

The Truth About Short Story Competions

Many years ago I used to act as a filter judge for a well established short story competition. That is – I sifted through mountainous piles of short stories in order to find the gems that got passed on to the real judges. I got 25 pence a script – around 40 cents. Money was worth more then, but even so, if you wanted to make any money you had to work fast and make very quick decisions.

90% of the short stories never made it past the first page. And I trashed a good proportion of them on the strength of the first paragraph. Let me tell you, I was not alone.

Why? Because they did nothing to command attention. Most of the stories simply didn’t have a good opening – which was a shame because many of them were otherwise good stories, I guess. But here’s the logic (and it fits with real life too), only a story with a good opening can win, because despite many stories being superb apart from the opening, there would always be superb stories with good openings.

Hence, poor opening – straight on the junk pile.

There’s a flip side to this – some rubbish stories with powerful openings got more of my attention than they perhaps deserved. Make of that what you will.

Are Art and Music Any Different?

Although I’ve made my point using short stories as an example, it’s the same whatever your creative medium. And if you still think that audiences really should pay more attention, ask yourself what you are like. What makes you listen or look for longer?

The key is (go on, guess) that something grabbed your attention. If by now you’re thinking that I’m bashing on about the blatantly obvious, you are correct. It’s just that although most of us know this, it actually doesn’t happen all that often.

I lost count years ago of the art videos that hold the attention of only the most dogged and determined of viewers. And if you’ve ever visited a university fine art degree show, it’s amazing how some of the stuff that gained a first has everyone but family and friends drifting past in a cloud of indifference. On the other hand, there are dozens of examples of successful but distinctly average songs that have brilliantly imaginative openings.

And don’t forget the shock tactics and plain old fashioned gimmickry that some artists have employed over the years.

Now I’m not suggesting that we should all adopt shock or gimmick (though I’m not saying you shouldn’t, if you want to). I’m also not suggesting you should focus on the attention grabber at the expense of overall quality. But do ask yourself what it is that will stop people from walking past, tuning out or moving on. It may be dramatic or it may be subtle shades, it may be minimalist or sumptuous – whatever – if you want people to take notice, give them something to take notice of – and don’t hang about doing it.

Other related posts:

Achieve Artistic Success with Courageous Creativity
Flowers, Ships and Scenery

In my previous post I talked about the way that unfettered ‘butterfly’ creativity can impede your growth and success. If you want to develop your creative muscles and give yourself the best chance of getting noticed you need something else, something more. This is what I call Courageous Creativity.

Courageous creativity is about maintaining your focus for longer. It’s about following your interest, your passion, your curiosity – and finding out where it will lead you.

It’s the difference between shining a torch around the entrance to some enticing cavern and deciding you’re going to do some proper exploration. Guess which one comes up with the hidden treasures?

Why do I call it courageous creativity?

Because for many people – maybe even most people, it takes a certain amount of bravery to embrace it. For the lucky ones it comes without a second thought – but if you harbour doubts about your ability or your right to be successful – or you struggle with a fear of failure – then this really is courageous creativity that we’re talking about.

What does courageous creativity look/sound like?

I’ll tell you what it looks like – like this:

And this:

And this:

Sophie Ryder’s art often (but by no means always) reflects a fascination for the hare, the Minotaur and the dog. It’s her willingness to really explore ideas like these that have led to a constant development of her work.

There are all sorts of reasons why Sophie Ryder’s work is a good example of courageous creativity.

For instance, I love Sophie Ryder’s work. You may not.

Part of being courageous is accepting that there will be people who don’t like your stuff. It’s absolutely and totally unavoidable. The importance of your audience can vary massively and is dependent on your medium and your personal goals – but courageous creativity is about focussing on your most important audience of all – you.

Then your work develops integrity and connectivity. And whatever your definition of success is, these surely have to be two of the main ingredients. I’ll leave integrity for another day. Connectivity I’ll deal with now.

Connectivity

Connectivity and cohesion come automatically once you start to follow your interest and really develop your ideas. It’s that connectivity between each new piece of your creative output that brings out the richness, depth and quality in your work. It also allows you to discover that most prized of things – your own unique voice. These alone are powerful enough reasons why courageous creativity is worthwhile.

But there is one more advantage, and it’s a real biggie.

If Sophie Ryder had allowed her butterfly creativity full reign – if she’d let go of her ideas and passions as soon as she’d begun to develop them and kept moving on, who would have heard of her?

Instead, as you develop your themes, your preferred media and your abilities you also develop something else – a body of work – not loads of different bits of work (no matter how good) that people can’t get a handle on – but enough connected stuff so that people can start seeing what you are about. Enough work to exhibit, or record, or perform.

And that, of course, brings us back again to why I use the term courageous creativity. Because what if after all that focus and energy your work doesn’t cut it with others?

Well, that’s a toughie for sure. I could tell you that in following your own interests and curiosity you will enjoy the creative process much more. I could also say that courageous creativity is wrapped up in learning about yourself and your art. You keep learning and keep growing. You gain in satisfaction and improve your chance of success.

And then there’s this – there simply isn’t a decent alternative.

Unless, that is, you are genuinely happy with constant novelty and keeping your creative impulses as the lightest of amusements (in which case, get off of my blog!) And even if you are convinced that is the case for you, I’d bet there’s a fair dollop of unacknowledged fear and doubt at the bottom of it.

Does this mean the death of the butterfly?

No! You need your butterfly creativity up and dancing. Look at Sophie Ryder’s full catalogue and you’ll see it has its share of butterfly footprints. Sophie does not limit herself either in subject matter or medium. There’s clearly a valuable place for the butterfly too. It brings the fresh ideas, the sideways leaps and the new starting points for exploration. Just make sure it’s working for you, not against. The courageous butterfly, perhaps?

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It was some weeks back, on looking at Sophie Ryder’s work that I was prompted to write about this. It’s taken me all those weeks to form my thoughts enough to express them in this post and the previous one. I know there’s lots more to say on this and I’d very much appreciate your feedback.

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Check out Sophie Ryder’s work at www.sophieryder.org and you’ll find a fantastic catalogue of her work, including the images above, at www.sophieryder.com

Images are by kind permission of Peter Osborne at Osborne Samuel

Walking slowly down the corridor of Doncaster Infirmary – because I’m accompanying my 83 year old mother-in-law, Vie, to her appointment for her gall stones – that is – getting rid of them. (Yes, I know it’s an exciting life, but somebody’s got to live it)

The walls are lined with colourful paintings – generously donated by a local art club – and they brighten up the place immensely. Many of them are technically very good, and the rest are on their way.

But please! Stop painting x#!*x!! boring flowers! Or perfect but boring bits of countryside. Or sailing ships. Yes – especially sailing ships.

Statistic time: in a recent study by The Creative Instinct Bureau of Artistic Statistics it was established that there has been an estimated 295.43% more paintings of sailing ships than actual, real sailing ships. And as it’s extremely difficult to paint a sailing ship well, most of them were painted badly. Now what’s all that about then?

So, before you paint your next sailing ship ask yourself this crucial question: does the world really need another? And then paint something else instead.

And now to continue in a more reasonable tone -

Your own creative medium may have nothing to do with painting – it may not even be ‘artistic’, but whatever it is, please spend a moment to think about what your own equivalents to flowers, scenery and sailing ships are. And if you’re only ‘painting’ them because that’s what people in your medium do, then it’s definitely worth having a rethink.

Think about what it is that really interests you; where do your passions lie? Don’t worry if it’s a little quirky or revealing – that’s what being creative is often about. And don’t worry about not pleasing the crowd, because pleasing a few people a lot is much better than pleasing a lot of people hardly at all.

But if, when it comes down to it, you do feel drawn to your own equivalent of flowers or ships, then what is it that fascinates you? Is it the colour, detail, action, connections, big picture, feeling, emotion – etc? Figure that out and yours will be the sailing ship that becomes the exception to the rule.

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Do you have a view on this post? Your comments are appreciated.