Epiphanies on creativity from “Big Magic” by Elizabeth Gilbert
There are many conversations, books and movies that have, luckily, kept me going on my creative journey. They have not taught me about whatever form(s) of art I’ve been exploring. They have taught me a lot about the attitude I need to make it out alive — and sane. “Big Magic” by Elizabeth Gilbert has triggered some of these epiphanies. It’s actually a summary of all the epiphanies I’ve had at various points in my life and even some new ones.
The reason I want to share them today is that Gilbert made them beautiful, impactful and user-friendly. Which is something I care about as a web designer. Get to the point quickly or I’m out.
The universe as a source of inspiration
Something unknown is doing we don’t know what.
- Sir Arthur Eddington
The notion of “universe” Gilbert refers to in her book, is one I had explored in a series of portraits and interviews I threw myself into after a nasty breakup. I can’t tell you why I thought of the word “universe” at the time. It’s just what came to me. Reading Gilbert’s book and meeting this notion by accident again, I smiled. Although I know better now than to think it was an accident.
Many creative people talk about the universe. We give it various names. Some people call it God, others speak about a source of inspiration or a system of rules and logic shaping our lives.
When someone leaves you and your shattered heart for example. Later on, when you’re feeling better and doing things you’d never have done if this person had not left, you get to say “it was God’s doing”, or “it was a blessing in disguise”. Or you can say “it was the universe working out its magic”. I believe in the latter, like a big ball of energy whose power goes above and beyond what I can understand — or even wish to understand. But what we decide to call this doesn’t matter. The important part is to know that it works.
Chasing inspiration’s clues like a treasure hunt
I believe this is one of the oldest and most generous tricks the universe plays on us human beings, both for its own amusement and for ours: The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them. The hunt to uncover those jewels — that’s creative living.
- Elizabeth Gilbert
In her book, Gilbert transforms what I used to see as a tormenting challenge into play. She shares a much lighter perspective on inspiration and creativity, like it’s a treasure hunt for children. I love this concept because, in this one, the outcome doesn’t impact the pleasure of creating.
Gilbert also talks about eudaimonia. This inspirational muse watching over your shoulder and sometimes dropping clues about what you should pursue. I love it. It’s very comforting to believe in a mythical creature that decides when you can feel inspired, or not.
As Gilbert explains, success comes from talent, luck and perseverance. Since you can’t do anything about the first two, you might as well triple your efforts on perseverance. Especially as this eudaimonia will only visit if she deems you worthy enough. So, we might as well try and look like we want her to come to us. Otherwise, it’s a little bit like inviting guests over and leaving the lights off, pretending you’re not home.
The creative process goes in pair with fear
The graveyard is the richest place on earth, because it is here that you will find all the hopes and dreams that were never fulfilled, the books that were never written, the songs that were never sung, the inventions that were never shared, the cures that were never discovered, all because someone was too afraid to take that first step, keep with the problem, or determined to carry out their dream.
- Lee Brown
You can’t talk about the creative process without mentioning its fiercest opponent: fear. As Gilbert explains, creative work triggers fear in all of us. The outcome we imagine and dream of is always uncertain. And that uncertainty is sometimes paralysing.
I know about fear. Because of fear, I didn’t go to drama school. I went to film school instead, thinking that I could become an actor after becoming a technician. I won’t leave you with any sort of suspense, I became neither. I failed for many reasons and got a day job in marketing instead.
But, with my day job securing financial stability, I started doing photography. And without the pressure of money or recognition, I started to enjoy myself, genuinely. I worked on projects I was very passionate about. I went back and forth to Venice for a year shooting sinking palaces. I also travelled the world, spending my day job’s money to shoot the world architectural heritage. I didn’t do any of those things with a clear agenda. I did it for fun.
The reason I had fun is that I kicked fear out of my process. There was nothing at stake apart from having fun. But what is interesting as I read “Big Magic” is that I realised I needed to hear the lesson again. I’ve been working freelance as a web designer for about a year now. And there’s always a time where things get difficult. When that happens, I need to get better at remembering what’s at stake. Before anything, I’m doing this because I have the luxury of having fun with my work.
Commitment speaks louder than success
A lot of creative people measure themselves by how successful they are. It applies to jobs, relationships and hobbies. In Gilbert’s book, I was reminded how wrong this is. A kinder approach would be to measure how committed you are to whatever creative work you’ve decided to take on. The time you spend improving, learning, educating yourself. That’s the only thing that matters when you want to assess yourself.
However, it’s all very nice and humble but we’re still human beings made of egos. So, unless you’re the new Buddha, you probably struggle with ego on a daily basis. And that’s ok. Being aware of what pushed you to do something allows you to tell your ego to sit down and keep quiet.
Staying humble in the grand scheme of things
Speaking of Buddha, humility is kind of a big deal. It’s something many of us aspire to or claim to have. Nice trait to have, right? Obviously the voices in my head arehere to remind me I don’t get to claim this.
“Big Magic” reminds us that people have been making stuff forever and most of them haven’t made a big fuss about it. So whatever we design, develop or write, it’s unlikely it’ll really, I mean really, have a universal impact. So chill. And if someone really wants to know why you bother doing what you’re doing, just tell them “Why not?”.
That being said, if you’re looking for a cure to COVID-19, a solution to systemic racism or working out a way to end child labour, by all means, brag about it. I’ll even make a website for you.
Keeping it sassy
I’ve been called many things from various people. I remember my first annual review with a former manager complimenting me for my work. But he ended the conversation by telling me I was a little bit cheeky. Like it was a bad things. My American friends call it sass. I know it was supposed to make me feel nervous and get me back on whatever tracks my manager believed in. But instead, I felt some kind of twisted pride. The mischievous, twisted and sassy kind of pride. Because, sass, my friend, is something I very much enjoy and I’ll never apologise for it.
Leading a creative life, whether your gig is gardening, launching rockets or designing websites, is all about sass. It’s about showing up somewhere experts have already done a lot of amazing work and saying you want to enter the arena too.
And why not? Should we stop having singers now Cesaria Evora is dead? Should we stop designing clothes because Coco passed away? I don’t think so. There’s always more you can contribute to this world. And I want to make damn sure I’ve given it my best before it all ends.
This is the only weapon we get to have against the voices in our head and other critics in this world. Sass. There’s nothing you can do to stop someone who outrageously believes in what they’re doing and is having fun doing it. Nothing.
Legitimacy doesn’t come from a degree
Legitimacy has been a very big barrier for me. I went to university to study film and then I quit because I couldn’t afford it anymore. English is my second language and nothing I do will ever replace the fact that sometimes, I make mistakes. I never properly studied design with anyone, but I found a supportive community and started getting freelance design contracts.
But the voices in my head will regularly come back and ask “who do you think you are?”. So, one coping mechanism people look for is legitimacy. It’s something you gain from graduating for example.
Ask yourself why you need an arts degree. Do you think it’s going to help you navigate your way around networking? No. Is it about learning how to market yourself? No. Is it going to teach you anything about filling the paperwork to become a freelancer and pay your taxes accordingly? Again, no.
I wish I had read “Big Magic” a long time ago, when I was frustrated and sad that I couldn’t go any further at university. I’ve been privileged in many ways, but not graduating has always felt sour to me. Gilbert reminded me that arts students do gain enormously from their education. But if you don’t get to go to college, it’s also fine.
No one cares about your rants
Don’t get me wrong, I love a good rant. It can be absurd, witty and most of all funny. I usually rant for the fun of the performance, like sarcasm on steroids. My point is that if I was watching the scene from afar, I’d find this hilarious. Yes, I rant for comedy.
But in the creative industry, where most of us have chosen to dedicate our time doing creative things, what is there to rant about? As Gilbert says it best, the topic has been explored and worn out already. Also, it’s annoying. I won’t get into too many details I haven’t experienced, but many people don’t get to choose what they do, let alone experience a pleasant time at work. So chill and think about your privilege for a second.
Which is probably a lesson I needed to hear again. No one really listens to someone’s rants. So, what subversive approach remains for those of us who care about originality? Try enjoying your work (and let me know how that goes).
In conclusion, your work isn’t sacred
Gilbert explores many, many more topics in “Big Magic” and I don’t want to give it all away because I’m starting to worry it’ll look like I’m taking ownership of her work. Also, this article is getting long and I’m surprised you’re still here. Just read the book and see what epiphanies you get.
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