Creativity Without Limits, Labels, or Excuses
Explore how time, tools, and titles impact creativity—and how embracing limitations can unlock more consistent, authentic creative work.
Hey, Friends! It’s independence day in the USA. If you celebrate, Happy 4th of July to you! Before you make your way to the parade, BBQ, and fireworks display, how about a little creative inspiration first?
The Power of Constraint
I came across a quote that I felt compelled to write down. I can’t recall where exactly I encountered it or even when, but when you maintain some form of journalling habit, you collect wisdom passively and redeem it later. That’s what happened when I heard this gem from Orson Welles:
"The enemy of art is the absence of limitation."
Welles produced one of the most famous alien invasion stories of all time. His visual effects budget: $0. War of the Worlds was first shared as a radio broadcast. To this day rumors suggest that some listeners believed the broadcast to be not a fictional narrative, but a live newscast that sent listeners into a panic believing the world to be under attack by an otherworldly invasion.
By limiting the story to audio-only, what listeners imagined ended up being far scarier than anything he could have depicted.
In my own creative work, my biggest limitation is time. Especially during the summers when I’m busy chasing my young kids around, I have next to no time. That means early wake ups, planning with my spouse, and the ever-present ticking of the clock to write something before my self-imposed deadline.
I don’t currently have the luxury to overthink my work. Does that mean it’s the best ever? Perhaps not, but the time crunch I’m under has served as a forcing function to get me to produce at least something. Paradoxically, in this chapter of my life where I have most profoundly felt an absence of time, I have been more prolific in my writing compared to any other point that I can remember.
Takeaway: When everything feels possible, it can be difficult to do anything. When almost nothing is possible, that’s when you figure out how to scratch out at least something.
Friction and Frequency
I read a great article last week from
called The Camera Gear Wars are Over. Smartphones Won. As the title suggests, it’s about gear collection in the creator economy and the trap of the Sisyphean arms race of creating with the latest and greatest kit.Ultimately, the article drives home the truism that the best camera is the one you have with you, not the one that’s most expensive and shoots 360 degree footage at 1,000,000 frames per second. For almost everyone, the one you have with you is the one that’s in your pocket built into your smartphone. Gunn articulates a point about photography and cinematography that carries over into almost all creative disciplines, stating:
“Friction kills frequency. And frequency is the only real path to mastery.”
This should come as no surprise, but it’s worth remembering, the artist who sketches daily will develop skills faster and more thoroughly than the artist who doesn’t. Similarly, the photographer and filmmaker who shoots daily will develop more than those who don’t. Whatever you can do to cut friction from your life to increase the frequency of your creative pursuit will pay dividends down the road. The best way to get better is to get reps under your belt.
I write directly in Substack’s editor. I can access it from anywhere so long as I have an internet connection, and I’ve committed to writing weekly. By setting a goal and designing my environment to be as frictionless as possible, I’ve paved the way to achieve a frequency and consistency in my writing that I believe has helped to, if not achieve mastery, then at least improve compared to where I was the day before.
Takeaway: All creatives face friction, but being intentional in your environmental design and habit formation can help to eliminate it and increase the frequency and ultimately quality, of their work.
No Labels
It’s no secret, I am a fan of
’s collage work, but I’m also a fan of his philosophy around labels. Recently he posted the following:“I don’t call myself an artist, a writer, a poet, a photographer, or a designer, because if I don’t claim the title I have permission to do them all in any way I want to.”
See the original post in its entirety below:
I too have long felt it hard to subscribe to any one label. Probably because I’m not formally trained in any one discipline, I don’t feel like I have earned the title of artist, writer, musician, or programmer even if I do dabble in all of those fields and more.
Perhaps it’s a feeling of imposter syndrome that prevents me from claiming such a title. Maybe if I made my living doing those things I would be comfortable introducing myself as such. Maybe I’d even like to use those titles confidently.
I’m not so sure.
In the meantime, I subscribe to Toops’s justification that by not claiming the title, I am not bound by the unspoken rules of the discipline. Perhaps it’s a cop out, and I should strive to be a writer. More than likely, I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing and leave it to history to decide what I was.
I suppose there is one label I do use with some amount of regularity: Teacher. But, I did go through a formal four year training program, earn a masters degree in the field, and obtain licensure by the state of Illinois to justify that designation. Teacher doesn’t really describe any of the creative things I do outside of the classroom though, so it doesn’t quite work for me in this context.
Takeaway: Labels can be great. They help us make sense of the world and our place in it, but they are imperfect and shouldn’t get in the way of creative exploration and expression.
One More Thing
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See you next week!
-Mike
Your comment on labels is spot on. My default title in the working world has been art teacher. But I also make art, I research art, I take classes I even read novels about art. Yet I sort of feel uncomfortable saying I’m an artist. I am completely comfortable saying I’m a creative person. I enjoy communicating with other creatives in the arts.