With the anticipation of primary elections (discussed two columns down), the anxiety of obligations, and the imminence of graduation for some, there is a danger of getting swept up in a quickening torrent of work, practices, meetings — life. In my Capstone course (think senior design), I had to reread a text I encountered during another course in my junior year, excerpts from Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity by acclaimed film director David Lynch. The book’s tagline may sound a bit “out there,” but the excerpts I read (pages 23, 39, and 111-112) highlight several concepts that I found impactful for tapping into creativity and bolstering productivity: ideas, restrictions, and rituals.
Lynch characterizes an idea as a “hopeful puzzle piece.” To him, an idea is an instant moment of realization, akin to the oft-used light bulb in cartoons, that contains much more than initially perceived. This may seem silly and obvious, and I thought so too initially, but Lynch, as if responding to my immediate eye-rolling, then says that once we have an idea it is ours, the rest of the puzzle will become evident in time. The notion that ideas, plentiful though fleeting, contain more value than most give them credit for is encouraging. Sure. However, because they can lead to further developed or completely different ideas in time, the value in embracing an impossible, impractical, or nonsensical idea — and holding onto it with a mental or written note — is as boundless as the potential ideas can have, no matter the scale or scope.
On restrictions, Lynch tells an odd tale of a friend specializing in film industry special effects, namely blowing stuff up. Lynch discusses a time when he was working with his friend, and wanted to blow a house up in the middle of presumably shooting a film (I hope). The friend brought what he had and they did it, they were in awe at the explosion; but if Lynch’s friend had further notice, able to bring all of his explosive equipment, the explosion would not have had the quality and character that the impulse one had. In other words, restrictions limit possibilities and require us to craftily adapt to the situation and produce, sometimes creating something that would have never existed without what seems like an annoyance or handicap.
The most striking portion of Catching the Big Fish was Lynch’s chapter on ritual, “Bob’s Big Boy.” A grand total of two sentences, Lynch recounts that he used to go to the titular diner every day, grab a milk shake, and simply think. This ritual was something that allowed Lynch to explore ideas, scenarios, and other pointed or aimless thoughts in the security of a diner. “You can have your coffee or your milk shake, and you can go off into strange dark areas, and always come back to the safety of the diner.”
Finding a particular place or process to go to when meaningful work needs to be done or creativity accessed is vital for staying driven, or at least consistent, when life overwhelms or blockades us. For me, I retreat from my dorm where friends and fun reside, and head to the library or a classroom to which I have access. I listen to a Spotify playlist that eventually transitions to ambient electronic music on IndieShuffle. This ritual of easing into work, thesis or otherwise, by singing along to songs I know and eventually letting the abstract soundscapes of independent artists serve as a backtrack to sharpen my focus, is my ritual.
Whether it’s McDonald’s in the morning, Starbucks in the afternoon, or the dimly-lit corner of Blimpie at night, find the place that allows you to unwind but maintain sharp focus. As tantalizing as heading to a bar on Washington Street, watching a show on Netflix, or playing Super Smash Bros. with your friends might be, it won’t allow you time with yourself to figure out what works for you. Through concerted effort or a fluke, keep Lynch’s advice in mind to ultimately find your diner.
