The Fall and Rise of Creativity

This isn’t an essay or dissertation on creativity where I highlight areas of note over the ages, from Duchamp’s urinal to Jimi Hendrix’s thumbed guitar playing or even a well worked free kick from Matthew Le Tissier. It is about my own personal creativity...something that has been badly neglected over the past few years. I’ve handed in my job application to Haringey social services.

For the sake of not wanting to cause distress to anyone involved, I have given my creativity an alias, Colonel C. I can’t quite put my finger on the exact date Colonel C died, but I think it was around the summer of 2004. I had just finished my degree in Graphic Design and Advertising where my creative juices were flowing out of every orifice, so much so that I sometimes had to carry a portable wind-up hairdryer with me to save myself from total embarrassment. Maybe this was the problem, Colonel C was so exhausted he just didn’t want to fight anymore, he had run out of tactical ideas and had been left mumbling “...pincer movement...pincer movement...” in a lame attempt to appear battle savvy.

It was around the same time in 2004 that I resorted to painting “pop-art” on canvases for a bit of extra money. Nothing original mind, they were all black and white two-tone iconic images such as Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Michael Caine from Get Carter and various ones of the Beatles. To my credit they were cheap to do and I managed to flog them on eBay for a profit.



I noticed which images were popular and which were selling for the most money and then copied them. However, that is the key word, copies. This was too much for Colonel C; he had taken his final hit, the one thing that would finally kill him off - a distinct lack of originality. Bleeding from his gut...there was no way back...

RIP Colonel C, 1982 - 2004
You served me well for many years, I will not forget you.

For the few years after the tragic passing of a once potent force (can I hear a trumpet blowing in the distance??), there were now stuffy offices, Reed Employment, shirts and ties...there were dull computer programmes, there were templates for everything so that no mould could be broken, there were even templates on how to think... There was also a Marketing MA at LCC thrown in for good measure. It was as if the Gods were trying to erase any memory of my former friend and ally, now simply known as C. My post-C life was like some hideously boring sedimentary layer of rock, a layer of rubbish covering the landscape, pushing everything as deep as it could possibly go.


But wait, what is that in the distance?

After a 4 year hiatus I can feel something again. Almost like the phantom pains of an amputee; however this is something real. I have had a quarter life crisis. I have had a there-must-be-more-to-life-than-this moment. I want to resurrect Colonel C; I want him to lead his troops, I want him to be the next Jesus (ok, that last one’s a step too far, but you get my drift). I can feel him taking his first real gasps of air for a long long time. Colonel C is coming back. Give that man a drink!

There are many aspects to this change, it is certainly not a one stringed bow. I have dusted off my old degree portfolio and criticised the crap out of it, I have started this blog (don’t worry, it won’t always be this self obsessed) and I have had many other thoughts on how to release my newly revitalised creative juices all over Hamburg, and beyond. Creative contentment takes time; it is not a speedy process. However, it will happen.

Tears and Nearly Tears

Well this is the first of my new “regular” blogs and it’s still very much in its drawing board stage. I have blogged before but never on a regular basis; hopefully this will change from now on. This is a traditional weblog, but who knows, I might decide to do an audio or video blog in the future. Comments are welcomed – so please feel free to wear your little fingers down to their bones on your keyboards, and communicate, give feedback etcetera.

It’s been a bit of a manic last week or two in this world in which we exist. It’s been a time of tears and nearly tears. Jesse Jackson cried with joy at Barack Obama becoming the first black President of the US of A. Others around him felt so guilty for not crying they squished up their faces so hard in an attempt to try and force something out of their tear ducts. However, there was a distinct lack of liquid being emitted from those gurners...SORRY, the bandwagon’s full; go find something else to weep over. As a side point, it wasn’t exactly a surprise that Obama won; no one was really going to vote for McCain with his short little arms. You can’t have a T-Rex in the White House who can’t even perform basic functions like wiping his own bum ‘ole.

More nearly tears were present in Brazil on Sunday. Lewis Hamilton superbly won the Formula 1 Championship by narrowly finishing 5th on the last corner of the final race of the season – well done that man. Brazilian Felipe Massa, who won the last race of the season (also his home race) thought he had just nicked the Championship from Hamilton in the last few laps – so much so, that the Ferrari team were jumping around with glee until some wise mechanic pointed out that they had only won the race, not the Championship. On the podium Massa seemed overly proud and yet also seemed as if he wanted to cry. It was pure dehydration that prevented him from wailing like a baby with tears rolling down his cheeks... not too dissimilar to a young man first discovering the joy of masturbation, the feeling is there but the evidence is nowhere to be seen – the perfect crime... I’m sure the tears have come by now as he’s had plenty of time to hydrate himself sufficiently.

Back in the UK, Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross were being rather naughty boys on BBC Radio 2. The incident was totally blown out of proportion but I agree it wasn’t exactly classic radio. I’m quite miffed as I listen to the Russell Brand podcast all the time...what am I going to do now...eh?? I’ll just have to wait for the revolution.

At last the new Duke Special album is out, “I Never Thought This Day Would Come” – couldn’t have put it better myself (have been waiting two years). His Irish tones sit so well with both his mellow and jaunty tracks, so distinctive, so addictive. After getting his first album “Songs from the Deep Forest” in November 2006, I barely heard anything else until February 2007. As expected (and hoped), this new one is just as good, so buy it... Jesse Jackson will cry if you don’t, you’ve been warned!

Anyway, enough for now. Next time Gadget.