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I call this one ‘Unraveling’

In a perfect world all creatives would have at least three things. – a pensieve, no need for money, and discipline.

Creative thoughts aren’t linear, geometric or exponential. If they could be observed, they’d probably exhibit Brownian motion. (Read your high school chemistry and don’t ask me questions [Fine. I’ll help])

Imagine each squiggly coloured line was a separate thought. That’s exactly how creative thoughts move and interact. Any-fucking-how. This is why it takes shit-loads of discipline to actually go from thought to art. You need to grab a strand and untangle it like a kilometre long earphone cable. But that’s not all. That’s just one thought. You’ve got to untangle other thoughts and colour match them until you have enough strands to form some kind of plan. Then you need to weave the strands together and add complementary and contrasting strands. Somewhere down the line you might end up with a work of art. Or you might just get frustrated. 

All the while you’re having other thoughts, other colours that look puke green beside your beautiful crimson tapestry. That’s where it would be amazing to have a pensieve. 

The ability to take thoughts out of your head and put them somewhere for later perusal would be of infinite help in focusing on the current task. Alas, like Butterbeer and Quidditch and Hippogriffs, there are no pensieves. 

Now while you’re taking your good time being undisciplined and tangled up in the maniacal barbed wire of your own thoughts – you still need to live. To live you need money – which for some reason still doesn’t grow on trees. So you need to hold down some kind of job or live with increasingly frustrated parents or be a broke ass hippie in a society that doesn’t really have space for them anymore. 

The money thing is odd. I for one don’t create art for money – but I would love love love love love love to get paid for the hard work of untangling and rearranging threads. It’s almost slave labour I tell you.

Now on top of all of that there’s the fact that my moods aren’t really mine. Some days I’m on top of the world and full of energy and I make plans for the next three months which I fully intend to follow through – only to wake up the next morning and find it damn near impossible to get out of bed. 

But I’m a happy little nerdy sweetheart, so I jump on twitter to flirt and banter with the creatives I would absolutely love to work with – and the ones whose talent makes me green with envy. 

I should stop. This isn’t really about me learning how to take care of myself or the challenges I face as an individual – I just don’t get that many chances to rant about being a broke ass creative in a cash driven society. 

Hi. 

My name is Olumide, and I’m an ideas person.

unravelling

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