I've spent today writing about curiosity for some work I'm doing around the creative process for the BBC. I've been working on it for a few months on and off and collected some interesting stuff along the way. You can have a rummage through my Pearltrees for more on creative processes if you're interested in that sort of thing.
I've pulled this video out because it's quite wonderful. It's been hiding in there for months and deserves your attention. Designer Michael Wolff talks about the elements of his brain that feed his creative process as being muscles. I love that.
The thing about the creative process is that it's really easy to teach. You can give people the steps they need to take. The problem is that I don't think you can teach people how to be curious, which is an essential element in the process of generating ideas.
However, if you think of curiosity as a muscle then you can give people tasks that exercise that muscle. It won't make them curious but help them strengthen what they already have.
I make no apologies for linking to this for the umpteenth time - probably the best workout you could ever give your curiosity muscle.
I love this video which I've lifted from a brilliant blog post from David Hieatt. You must get around to reading sometime.
The video is of surfer, photographer and film maker Mickey Smith talking about passion for what he does. It's full of creative goodness and nuggets of knowledge that we all should have in our manifestos for a life of fulfillment. You can read the full script below.
Life on the road's something I was raised to embrace. Me ma always encouraged us to open our eyes and hearts to the world. Make up our own minds through experience and be inspired.
I see life in angles, in lines of perspective - a slight turn of the head, the blink of an eye - subtle glimpses of magic other folk might pass by. Cameras help me translate, interpret and understand what I see. It’s a simple act that keeps me grinning.
I never set out to become anything in particular. Only to live creatively, and push the scope of my experience, through adventure, and through passion. That’s still all that means something to me, same as most anyone with dreams.
My heart bleeds Celtic blood, and I’m magnetised to familiar frontiers. Raw brutal cold frontiers for the right waveriders to challenge. This is where my heart beats hardest.
I try to pay tribute to that magic through photographs. Weathering the endless storms for rare glimpses of magic each winter is both a blessing and a curse I relish. I want to see waveriding documented the way I see it in my head, and the way I feel it in the sea.
It’s a strange set of skills to begin to acquire, and it’s only achievable through time spent riding waves. All sorts of waves, on all sorts of crafts, means more time learning out in the water floating in the sea amongst lumps of swell, you’ll always learn something.It’s been a lifelong wise old classroom teacher of sorts, and hopefully, always will be
Buried beneath headlands, shaping the coast, mindblowing images of empty waves burn away at me. Solid ocean swells powering through deep cold water, heavy waves, waves with weight. They coax from comfortable routine, ignite the imagination, convey some divine spark, whisper possibilities. Conjure the situations I thrive amongst, and love to document.
We all take knocks in the process. Broken backs, drownings, near drownings, hypothermia, dislocations, fractures, frostbite, head wounds, stitches, concussions, broke my arm and that’s just the last couple of years.
I still look forward to getting’ amongst it each winter though cold creeping into your core, driving you mad, day after day. Mumbling to yourself while you hold position and wait for the next set to come. The dark side of the lens. An artform unto itself and us, silent workhorses of the surfing world.
There’s no sugary cliché. Most folk don’t even know who we are, what we do or how we do it, let alone want to pay us for it.
I never want to take this for granted, so I try and keep motivations simple, real and positive.
If I only scrape a living, at least it’s a living worth scraping. If there’s no future in it, at least it’s a present worth remembering.
For fires of happiness and waves of gratitude, for everything that brought us to that point on earth, at that moment in time. To do something worth remembering, with a photograph or a scar.
I feel genuinely lucky to hand on heart say I love doing what I do, And though I may never be a rich man, if I live long enough, I’ll certainly have a tale or two for the nephews, and I dig the thought of that.
1. 5 Inspiring ideas from Kevin Slavin and Paola Antonelli - Kevin Slavin is a really clever guy who always has something interesting to say. Here he talks about design being a living system and how cities are becoming algorithms.
2. Beyond Thriller: Reinventing the music video - The music video is enjoying a bit of creative renaisance thanks to limited budgets and new tools. Are we entering a golden age?
4. Roseanne Barr on sexism in TV - I found this article incredibly moving. It would be tempting to describe Rosanne as someone who has helped eradicate sexism from TV but unfortunately very little has changed.
5. Fear of Failure - Fear is one of the biggest barriers to creativity. To promote their 'Fear of Failure' exhibition students from the Berghs School of Communication invited a handful of leading creative figures to share their thoughts on fear. some great thoughts from the likes of Michael Woolf, Stefan Sagmeister and Milton Glaser.
So, that was it. My last ever Radio 1 Big Weekend. It was good to go out on Gaga too. I couldn't have planned it any better. If you don't already know, after 15 years in the best job on the planet I've decided it's time to move on. From September 1st I'll be handing in my BBC badge and saying 'so long' to the greatest broadcasting company in the world.
As a senior digital producer at Radio 1, whose responsibilities include mucking around with social media, fiddling with innovation and help others across the Audio and Music department think creatively around projects, I've been lucky enough to occupy a position that was built around my skills - and it's been great. Such is the respect I have for the BBC there isn't a morning that I don't wake up and wonder 'how the hell did I get here?' - I'll never work that one out.
Despite being here for so long I still get excited when I walk through the door like it's my first day every day. And why shouldn't I? It's one of the most famous radio stations in the world thanks to its ability to break new music for young people like no other. From Glasto to Big Weekends to Ibiza and Miami I've watched so many DJs and bands make their first appearance on the BBC Introducing stage and followed their progress to headliners years later.
I started working at Radio 1 in 1996 when Britpop was at it's peak and Chris Evans was at his most exciting and dangerous. It was also the beginning of the digital era for the BBC with the launch of a handful of websites - including Radio 1's. Being honest it was quite a terrible site at first, but it was a start - the start of a digital journey none of us could have ever imagined. It was also the start of a personal journey I've feel privileged to have been on.
Working in digitial at the BBC from the early days of the world wide web enabled me to experiment with every new web development or web related technology that has surfaced over the years. From webcasting and making online films in the mid-nineties, to experimenting with mobile early in the last decade, then alternate reality games, augmented reality, data visualisation, gaming, social media and the real time web, it's been amazing having the freedom to experiment without any pressure. I owe that to Chris Kimber, Dan Heaf and Ben Chapman, brilliant bosses over the years who trusted in me to try out new things with a simple brief to be creative and share the learnings. Amazing!!! Of course it's not just bosses I have to thank. I've always been surrounded by incredibly talented team members who never get the true credit they deserve, especially as they were doing all the hard stuff whilst I was fiddling around at the fun end of things.
So why am I leaving?
That's not so easy to answer. I don't really have a career plan. I'm rubbish at that sort of thing. I just know it's time to go and I know I want to do some other interesting things I've never done before. The first thing I plan to do is take a leaf out of Stefan Sagmeister's book and spend some time doing creative projects that I wouldn't be able to do if I had a 9-5 job. I kinda see it as my career's 20% time. I'm hoping these projects will lead me in the direction of my next career and feed my head with inspiration for future projects or roles. Though I'm really sad to be leaving I'm incredibly excited about what I may end up doing in this time.
I do have a few things planned. I've got a book to finish writing, a module based around a game to design for Media Students at Salford Uni, and some unfinished business in Africa. Oh yes, I'll be traveling around the world too. Apart from that I'm up for collaborating on some interesting projects. Storytelling using new technologies is what interests me most so if you have a project in mind that we can work together on just drop me a line.
I've still got a few months left at the BBC and some work that needs wrapping up. As well as managing my team I'm doing some work around creative process for the department, organising a TEDx day and attempting to bring a dead star back to life as a hologram for a live event later in the year - what an amazing job!!! Why would anyone want to walk away from that?
I took a week off work recently to begin writing my book. After 4 days I still hadn't put pen to paper (or should I say finger to keyboard). The problem wasn't what to write, I think I have that locked down. The questions 'Why?' and 'What exactly is a book?' troubled me more than I'd anticipated.
My initial fear was that I might be writing a book for vanity reasons but I settled on the excuse that I'm bursting with a creative energy that can only be satisfied by writing. This got me thinking about the next question. Why a book and not just a series of blog posts? What defines a book in this era of digital awesomeness anyway?
The iPad has opened up incredible possibilities allowing publishers to include linking, videos and animations in their books. The TED video above gives us an idea of how quickly the technology for producing a brilliant book-like experience is progressing. So where does a digital book stop being a book and become something completely new? Of course I don't have the answer, and spending too much time pondering such subjects isn't going to get my own book written.
"In the past a book was defined as anything printed between two covers. A list of telephone numbers was called a book, even though it had no logical beginning, middle, or end. A pile of blank pages bound with a spine was called a sketchbook. It was unabashedly empty, but it did have two covers, and was thus called a book".
By that definition it would right to suggest that an album is not an album if the music is not printed on plastic or vinyl and is encased in a plastic box or sleeve? Of course that's not true. We know our children view vinyl and CDs as having about as much value as the packaging Amazon wrap their books in for shipping - they are garbage once you've extracted the content.
The distribution of books has changed and we are now going though a creative surge in the format of the book, which is natural given the devices they are now being written for. Why limit ourselves to a start, middle and end when there are options to extend the shape of the book in new directions? For the past few years transmedia has been altering the shape of films (which are traditionally confined to 90 minute cinema sessions) and TV (which comes on 1 hour chunks). Expanded story lines on new platforms connected via the version you buy on your eBook reader is increasingly likely as these devices become connected.
An interesting challenge for the publishers is how to make referencing more dynamic. Having read 20 - 30 books in preparation for my own I'd be happier to credit at point of reference with a link back to the original work, as I would when blogging, than give a mention at the end of my work, as happens in books. It would be great to bring that practice into digital books, deep linking taking readers on a journey that could produce great moments of discovery. I'm sure limited previews of works referenced would encourage impulsive purchases.
In essence my book is going to be my interpretation of a subject that many great thinkers have written about before me. Ideally it would not be something defined by a cover which marks the start and the end, but as part of a continuous conversation that includes Steven Johnson's 'Where Good Ideas Come From', Sir Ken Robinson's 'The Element' and Jay-Z's 'Decoded' amongst many others. It would go on to include writers not yet born should they decide to join the conversation in the future. It's a never finished piece of work with no boarders, a bit like Wikipedia. Because of its deep linking you could say Wikipedia is a book about everything. Or maybe not.
I've just finished reading the digital version of Jay-Z's Decoded, which was excellent. It featured clickable lyrics which gave his interpretation of tracks line by line. It also featured video of him in conversation. A nice touch would have been to annotate those videos offering links within to supporting video... but hey... respect is due to the guy for coming up with something so fantastic. As a side note he also launched the book page by page as a digital/real world treasure hunt. Nice work.
It's great to see such creativity being applied by an artist who traditionally expresses himself through music. If the music industry had embraced digital with such passion all those years ago who knows what amazing musical moments they would be producing now.
Of course people are still making music despite the predictions of the doomlords who heralded its death many years ago. Books aren't going to disappear - they're just going through a really healthy change, a consequence of which being that a lot less trees are going to be chopped down in the coming years. And like the music industry the people who need to rise to the challenge are those who formally had the power. Publishers should be diving into the amazing technology that is available to create new experiences like the one in the TED video.
Opportunities are opening up for new writers to publish their work without a publisher. Though it would be foolish to assume anyone can recreate the success of Amanda Hocking (the self publishing author currently selling 100,000 books a month digitally without having ever been published) new services and models are removing the barriers for those who previously wouldn't have considered it either because of lack of publisher or not having a 'big enough' idea.
A recent development in digital publishing has been the rise of short form publishing. TED have recently launched TED Books which run less than 20,000 words each — long enough to explain a powerful idea, but short enough to be read in a single sitting. Kindle Singles reflects the love of short form that we've grown accustomed to online, whilst Seth Godin, whose Domino Project is also challenging traditional publishing models and looking to publishing shorter books with 'no wasted words' and 'no filler'. The idea that a book can be less than 50,000 words long should be a catalyst to get more people writing, at the same time encouraging a sales increase as prices drop to near micro payment levels.
If publishers are going to look to the past for a view of the future then they should look no further than what happened to the music industry and run in the opposite direction. The democratisation of publishing should encourage a new era of creativity on both sides. The ideal scenario being that more people will write because self publishing is becoming easy and publishers will push the boundaries of publishing in an attempt to still have a role in their game. I might even get my own book finished.
Some great advice from Ira Glass. 'Do a lot of work' is the only way to do it. Just do do do. The only way to reach those 10,000 hours is by doing.
"Once a musician has enough ability to get into a top music school, the thing that distinguishes one performer from another is how hard he or she works. That’s it. And what’s more, the people at the very top don’t work just harder or even much harder than everyone else. They work much, much harder." (Malcom Gladwell - Outliers)
Jerry Seinfeld has a 'don't break the chain' attitude towards work. He makes a point of writing every single day. When his work is done he marks the day off on his wall planner with a big circle. If there is a gap in those circles he's broken the chain. Don't break the chain. Do something every day. As Ira says 'You just gotta fight your way through.
