Why confusing creativity with art might be holding you back
Understanding the different types of creativity can help us unlock new avenues for self-expression and enjoyment.
Why do we travel to foreign countries and cultures and yet stay at a place that always looks the same?Â
Last year, I went to the Saatchi Gallery in London and saw a series of photographs by an artist called Roger Eberhard. He had travelled to thirty-two countries and stayed every time at a standard room in a Hilton hotel, taking photos of each room.
His photos took notice of the fact that no matter where he went, the hotel room looked almost exactly the same. This made him wonder why we travel in the first place.Â
On that rainy August day, Eberhard’s sense of wonder sparked my sense of wonder, creating a moment of stillness where there was time for questions that went beyond the mundane.  Â
Why do we choose the comfort of a hotel? Why does the world seem to repeat itself? What do I travel for, if not for cultural differences and adventures?
I recently listened to a podcast episode by Steven Bartlett, in which he interviewed one of my favourite authors, Alain de Botton. The episode was about love, sex, and relationships, but for a moment, the discussion sidetracked to the value of art.
De Botton said that artists are people who look at the world as if they’ve never seen it before. They have maintained the childlike capacity to wonder about seemingly unexciting things.Â
Art is not just about creating something beautiful but about capturing the awe and fascination we feel when we encounter the world around us. It's about expressing the joy of discovery and the thrill of understanding. It invites us to question and challenge the dominant narratives about the world and see things through our own eyes.
But this sense of wonder is often buried beneath the constant need to pursue something, prove ourselves, gain followers, or become noticed.Â
Most of us are not using our creativity to wonder but to problem-solve.Â
And without wonder, we can become bored and lack a sense of purpose and joy.
If everything becomes goal-oriented, what is fun anymore?
The difference between art and creative expression
Many creative practices, such as writing, design or painting, can be considered a form of art.Â
Yet, all that is creative is not art.Â
Let me explain.
Below I’ll explore the different forms of creativity through a framework created by neuroscientist Arne Dietrich. It explores the different parts of the brain that are activated through creative expression.
The image describes four different categories of creativity.Â
Only one of them is art.Â
The idea is that different types of creativity arise from different brain patterns.Â
For example, many of us who write for a profession have a deliberate mission for our writing.Â
We might be trying to convey a message, get a person to take specific action, or deliver a concise report that highlights the most critical findings from research.Â
So, we’re using our creativity in a very deliberate manner and have clear-cut limits and boundaries for what we’re trying to create.Â
Many professions fall into this cognitive and deliberate category. Advertising, business, research and science, and leadership can all involve deliberate yet cognitive ideation and decision-making.Â
These cognitive processes can involve some level of spontaneity. When our brains have been actively working on something during the day, we might wake up at 4 am with the perfect solution. We’re still actively seeking for an answer but it comes to us not by command but by happenstance.
The emotional types of creativity, on the other hand, stem from employing our emotions instead of our thinking mind. For example, therapeutic work involves actively involving our emotions to understand ourselves and get past blockages. In therapy, we’re deliberately seeking answers but using our emotions to access them.
The fourth category of creativity, the spontaneous and emotional is where art thrives. It rises from strong emotional experiences and a need for expressing them.Â
It’s in these emotional states where great paintings are born, novels are written and songs gain their melody.Â
To make art, we need to have some skills that turn an emotional experience into something tangible. This is why we often see people who are trained in artistic fields make art.
It’s not that other people don’t have similar emotions and the need to express themselves but they might lack the skillset to deliver a piece of artistic work.
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However, AI is changing things rapidly. Artistic tools are becoming available to more and more people and can offer shortcuts from emotion to a finalised piece of art.Â
And this development brings us back to the original point about the value of art. The value is not in the finalised piece but in our sense of awe and wonderment and creating something.Â
Does it even matter if the final expression was born in the hands of a human or artificial intelligence? If we look at art the way de Botton does, the process is more important than the outcome. Â
Why should everyone practice art?
This newsletter is a product of A) cognitive and deliberate or B) cognitive and spontaneous creativity. I’m writing it for a specific audience, I publish in a pre-determined rhythm, and my writing is connected to my coaching business, i.e. it can also have commercial value.Â
When I write for clients, I write to a brief. I answer specific questions and use a given structure; I have a deadline and a character count I need to adhere to. As such, I can’t merely follow my emotions, I must follow my cognitive abilities.Â
Purpose-driven writing differs from writing morning pages, diary entries or fictional stories. If you’ve ever explored these forms of writing, you’ll know that they feel different.Â
That’s why, alongside my newsletter and paid-for writing work, I often have side projects. They can range from random notes on my phone to a script for a novel, poetry or song lyrics.Â
These pieces of writing are not intended to be published. They are created out of an emotional experience that needs to be released. They’re random. They exist as independent entities without a purpose. And that is their sole value. To exist as art.
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In this day and age, making art for the sake of wonderment is disencouraged. It’s easily portrayed as a waste of time or a lack of ambition.
We’re told over and over again that we should monetise our passions and work for a purpose.Â
I’m not saying we shouldn’t. But I ask whether it’s a good idea to protect some of our creativity from the harsh realities of commercialisation and personal branding.
We need to spend time wondering, asking questions and expressing ourselves regardless of the outcome.
It’s essential that we do this without forcing ourselves to become successful at it.Â
Success and art can exist independently from each other.Â
And even if you’re an excellent writer, dancer or singer, not everything has to become a job or a revenue stream.
Artistic expression can give us light, joy, inspiration and self-confidence, even if no one sees it or gets to comment on it.
It’s a sacred space to retreat to.
And its sole purpose can be to wonder.Â
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What could that space look like for you?
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Thank you for your time and presence.
And as always, remember that hope is not given to us but created within and by us.
To wonder is an act of hope.
With kindness,
Aurora
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About High on Hope
Want a career where purpose comes first? This newsletter is a mix of personal growth, meaningful work, and big ideas. No fluffy self-help, no societal cynicism. It gives special attention to generalists, creatives, and multipassionates trying to pay the bills and leave a mark.
I, Aurora, am a multi-passionate soul with various creative pursuits, from improving work-life to merging spiritualism with science. I’m an eternal optimist and want to believe in a better future, regardless of the odds. I’m a coach for creatives, a freelance writer, a published author, a creative, a consultant, and a yoga teacher. Originally from Finland, I spent years trying to become location-independent and achieved that milestone two years ago. Now, I spend most of my time in Portugal.