Working on the latest Nothing Serious idea, Heads, has become a creative simulation. It has not only sharpened my artistic instincts, but offered me a front-row seat to how creativity operates in general.

The simplicity of the process (how quickly I can get to a complete artwork) has allowed me to focus intently on my creative instincts. I’ve started to note how ancient art aphorisms play out through me in real time. Stuff like: first thought best thought, less is more, kill your darlings, etc. And it has allowed me to gain a more rounded understanding of why these ideas are immortal.

Here’s a quick dive into some examples:

Show Up Anyway

Every morning I stare at a blank piece of paper. Some days I wake up with ideas, most days I literally have zero. But I know I’ll get three images from this time, no matter what.

Now, I have heard tons of writers talk about this process of showing up, but I don’t think I really appreciated it until Heads. In the past, I tended to only show up when I had some vague splatter of ideas. I needed to be ready.

But one thing I’ve noticed with showing up anyway is that the more elegant ideas come from mindless action, not from any contrived, preconceived plan.

I used to fear that mindless doodling was a sign of zero inspiration. But now I believe it’s a sign of inbound inspiration.

I knew this from childhood with the squiggle game1, but I didn’t appreciate it. And I feel like only through fully appreciating knowledge can it transform into wisdom that I start to practice.

Less Is More

A classic. Never more helpful than with Heads. When there are only three lines on a page it becomes very clear what is in service of the idea and what is an added distraction. With Heads, the aim is to communicate a concept, even if it be extremely abstract. Guiding the audience’s focus is therefore key. This doesn’t mean being didactic, but more so avoiding unnecessary confusion.

Of course, decoration can benefit art, but Heads has shown me that the ideas which tend to remain strong over time are the ones which have been refined down to their core essence. No fluff.

Trust the Abstract

Sometimes there’s an overwhelming feeling of trust in an idea at the exact moment of its creation. This feeling fades fast, but the memory of it lingers. I used to go fucking nuts with trying to understand why I got this magic feeling from the image I drew or the sentence I wrote. I believe this was because I was trying to somewhat justify why the idea should mean something to somebody else.

But the truth is, art isn’t absorbed logically. Now, the idea might need some work, it might even be cut all together by the release of the final piece, but this practice of trusting the initial reaction without analysis has allowed me to release more ideas of greater mystery and resonance than ever before.

I’d recommend this practice of using a project with a non-complex process to anyone who wants to learn more about their own creativity. Use it as a chance to develop a deeper relationship with your creative habits before meeting them again in a larger, longer and more elaborate project.

We do it with sports. We train, we gym. So why not with art?