Creative Discipline

       For the past year, here at St. John's Episcopal School we've been immersed in the early stages of some large-scale marketing work. After the initial research, we moved into all the areas of branding, design, copy, et cetera. The process has proven fascinating, and I've learned a great deal. As part of that, I've spent extensive time talking with various "creatives." Fortunately, we've engaged incredibly talented people for this work, and I'm in awe of their work. I've also enjoyed learning about them and their work because I've been calling for more creativity in schools for quite a while. (See this or this.) It's in line with the work of people such as Tony Wagner and Sir Ken Robinson.
       One thing which has surprised me--but probably shouldn't have--is how tied to process these people are. They are, contrary to the assumption and stereotypes many people have, quite committed to certain rituals and disciplines. In fact, in the only case where we weren't pleased with some of the work we received, I realized we had basically forced the creative to operate in a way that was not his normal methodology and thus out of his comfort zone.
       I've read enough about creativity that I should have realized this basic truth. Creativity, Inc, for example, spells out in great detail the systematic process that Pixar uses. Most writers and artists have very specific work routines, whether the times they work or how they lay out materials or follow certain steps.Some of this is the sort of exacting discipline required for success in any area. Too often people forget, or perhaps never understood, that creative pursuits share a great deal with other areas. We seem to think that creative work is somehow different, that it strikes at random moments of inspiration; and that when it strikes, somehow stunning art suddenly appears.
     But in many ways creative work is not that different than any other. Just as an athlete must practice a skill over and over, a painter works on brush strokes. Just as a scientist studies all the theory in their field, a musician studies past songs from many genres. More than that, it's simply a matter of getting the work done. And a great deal of it, because the misses far outnumber the hits. Picasso produced 79 different drawings in coming up with Guernica. In fact, while we know of several famous Picasso works, his total output numbered more than 1800 paintings, 1200 sculptures, 2800 ceramics, and 12000 drawings. In music, beyond their noted compositions, Mozart composed over 600 pieces;, Beethoven, 650; Bach, over a 1000. Compare that to the number of papers of Einstein's 248 publications or patents of Edison's 1093 had real impact. So even beyond creativity, it's about persistence.
     It also affirms my belief that we can teach creativity. Or, to be more accurate, design educational experiences that nourish our innate creativity. Well, at least not tamp it down, let alone beat it out of us. There exist plenty of practical and philosophical arguments for this, and I don't need to reiterate them here.They all seem to have one underlying commonality: life as a work of art. How does that happen? Creative discipline. So perhaps as we rethink these intellectual conveniences that we call academic disciplines, we need to make creativity one of the new disciplines of future education.

Move Out of the Way, and Be Delighted

     Recently Lauren Bush, an eighth grader at St. John's, won the USA Network and R&R Partners Foundation's Flip the Script Unite Against Bullying Commercial Challenge. This allowed her to be part of the creation of a public service announcement based on her original video:

We're incredibly proud of Lauren and the immense quality of her work, along with the poignant message. No surprise the video is going viral. She deserves all the attention and accolades.
     It's also important to consider the circumstances that allowed Lauren to create the video, as I believe they hold vital lessons for how education can function at its best. It was a first trimester film elective, and the students had a "simple" charge: create an inspirational video. Lauren then created "Word Play."
     Let's examine what the teacher did and didn't do. He gave the students the very basics of film-making and let them play with each of them. They had a powerful tool (we're a 1:1 iPad school) that made the filming and editing process easy, meaning the students could focus on the creative aspects of the project. The assignment was specific and broad at the same time, and no rubric confined their ideas. He set them up for success...then moved out of their way. Finally--and this probably is the most important point--he believed in the students and their ability to delight us. To push what too many teachers see as impossible.
   

Art for More than Art's Sake

                Recently my family attended a wonderful performance of Les Miserables. Normally I don’t care for musicals, but I love this one. It’s thematically and philosophically rich, and it doesn’t feel as campy to me as many do. This occasion marked my fourth time seeing it, but the first time with my children. Perhaps for that reason, I feel prompted to write about a topic I have mentioned in passing but never explored in much depth: why the arts are a crucial part of a great education.

                Art makes us want to learn more. Since we saw the performance on New Year’s Day, we’ve had several conversations about the French Revolution. They have been more than your standards facts and figures, although that is where they started. We’ve talked about what motivated the students to rebel. We’ve talked about idealism versus pragmatism. We’ve discussed classism. We connected the show to recent events in the Middle East and to the 1988 uprisings in Tiananmen Square. Some of the staging has led to analysis of how certain effects were produced. The learning has unfolded both broadly and deeply. In fact, my daughter received inspiration for her research paper in history.

                Art reminds us of what we can create and achieve. It inspires; it challenges us to discover and harness our talents, particularly those which distinguish human beings. I listened in absolute awe as the performers created a world for us, really believing that Jean Valjean had aged 20 or so years within those three hours. Their voices filled the opera house, with incredible range and an amazing ability to hold dramatic notes. Even the entire stage was a work of art, quite literally so in the way some of Victor Hugo’s paintings were used as backgrounds. Who among us hasn’t seen a dynamic performer and imagined ourselves in that role? Believed we could create a post-modern painting or sculpture? Exemplars surround us.

                Those are rather trite thoughts, ones that others have expressed many times in much more eloquent fashion. And while important, they also do not capture nearly the entire argument. To begin doing that, we must cast the net in the opposite direction—away from consumption and toward creation.

                The attempts to create art hold invaluable lessons. It’s about more than the fundamental lessons of drawing or music or drama. It is beyond tapping into our innate creativity. Once we develop a certain level of awareness, we quickly sense our shortcomings. Creating art is not something we can achieve through memorization or drill, through passive absorption or simple regurgitation. We have to persevere through disappointments and even failures; to celebrate all the steps of the process of steady improvement while waiting patiently for a quality product. Perhaps because we are so aware of our artistic shortcomings, we are more accepting of these truths in this realm than in others.

I think it also happens because of another key notion. At some point, the creation (whether process or product) becomes public. The artist cannot hide.  A recital, a piece in a gallery, appearing on stage—the medium and forum don’t really matter. In some way, the artist must present. Yes, it’s about the work. But it still remains highly personal. It’s the most authentic, most personal type of assessment. That’s why doing this can foster courage, resilience, confidence, empathy. These are lessons which may not be part of any explicit curricula, but truly matter. It’s why we need art for much more than art’s sake.