The Puzzle of Creation: My Respect to the Process

The process of artistic creation is often as compelling, if not more so, than what is actually created.¹

Jack Kerouc wrote On The Road diligently for three weeks straight, caffeine free, while living with his wife in Manhattan.  The original, legendary manuscript is referred to as the scroll, and described as “a continuous, one hundred and twenty-foot scroll of tracing paper sheets that he cut to size and taped together. The roll was typed single-spaced, without margins or paragraph breaks.”  Kerouc’s extended, relentless writing process, in some ways, was representative of his searchful meanderings around the country.

Pablo Picasso painted Guernica as a dramatic, historical time piece, telling a hundred different stories physically within the painting.  Picasso wanted to bring worldly attention to the bombing conflict in the town of Guernica, and bring sympathy to the Republican cause.  His purpose was the process, which was an ultimate, cultural ode against war and terror that spoke louder than words.

Although Picasso was not criticized for his process, Kerouc was, and still is.  The writing strategy behind On The Road was non-traditional, specifically due to the intentionally rushed writing speed and clear lack of formal editing.  On The Road was a beautiful brain dump of purposeful, youthful travel.  As Kerouc didn’t seem to take a breath during his aimless travels around the United States, he didn’t seem to take a breath while writing either, unless it was through a cigarette.  The art of Kerouc’s non-conform process bread spite, as even Truman Capote was quoted saying:

That’s not writing, it’s typing.

It’s a snarky comment, and one sure to gather the type of obnoxious attention Capote frequently looked for.  On The Road isn’t my favorite book, but the story behind it is inspiring due to its raw individuality.  Kerouc did what felt right to him, which meant typing and typing and typing, until it was done.  And, Guernica isn’t my favorite painting, but the story behind it is enlightening because of its focus on historical longevity and political purpose.  Picasso’s strategy, I think, was to inflict historical, lasting memories upon his viewers.

Throughout my formal schooling I enjoyed writing, but my arguments with writing professors made the process to a finished piece frustrating.  The formal setting forced excess focus and control on the process, which is the most vital stage of creative output to be left non-formulaic.

Blogging has enabled me a certain type of writing freedom, where the process used to develop a post typically depends on the type of piece, whether it’s research-based, a personal reflection, lesson’s learned or a story.  But, it usually includes a hosing of ideas in short phrases, an organization phase, the addition of footnotes, quotes and links, and after consolidation, making sure I leave the reader with a message or next action.

By studying artists I’ve realized that how we get through our process is as important as the completed prize at the end.  Kerouc wrote for three weeks straight, puffing cigarettes and barely sleeping.  Picasso wanted to leave a large, historical time piece, and painted objectively with deep war-themes in mind.  The process should be left to the individual; don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.  Borrow and steal from those you admire, but like Kerouc and Picasso, get there on your own artistic motive.

1. That’s part of the appeal of Daily Routines. [↩]

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