Restrain isn’t the absence of creativity.
It’s the discernment to leave space so that what needs to be said can be heard.
Recently, I was writing a blog post on Gil Scott-Heron as part of what has become my weekly Art and Muse feature. In exploring his legacy, I came across his album I'm New Here. Interestingly, the word ‘Spartan’ was part of the focused anchor behind the album, with Gil and its producer approaching the work with simplicity in mind, allowing the work to hold its own weight.
Spartan
Stripped back.
Simple.
The word stayed with me as I considered my own approach to writing and the Art and Muse posts I've come to enjoy, simply for the opportunity to learn and become a student each week.
I've purposely kept my output to a minimum of one blog post a week, and no more. Not because I can't sit down every day and push out post after post, but because I personally need time to integrate the wisdom I'm encountering through these icons and their creative lives. I don't want to skim the surface. I'd rather leave some space to invite that wisdom in, and I'm incredibly grateful for the pearls of wisdom uncovered, through their work, with each deep dive I have completed.
Allowing time between writing and publishing also provides myself space to refine what I've written. I can consider how the words might be received, how they may be absorbed by the collective, and whether what I've written sits respectfully with the artist I'm highlighting. Ultimately, the goal is to share their stories with respect and dignity, and to honour what their creative lives have gifted society through their dedication, sacrifice and commitment to their craft. If other readers find value in it too, then the collective offering expands.
It has come to my attention, recently, that somewhere along the way, the pace of life seemed to accelerate until producing more became an expectation in itself. Now we have tools that can help us produce at extraordinary speed. Against that backdrop, the idea of ‘Spartan’ feels like a breath of fresh air.
Us humans aren't necessarily meant to produce endlessly for the sake of it. I'd like to think artistry is something to be considered with care, with time allowed for integration and an offering that feels authentic. I'm not suggesting that great pieces of work can't be completed in a short period of time. But I wonder how much of what we create is driven by an expectation to keep producing, rather than by the work itself.
For Gil, the word was Spartan to keep on track and true. In my own studio, I might think of it as a way of stripping things back so that what feels purposeful has room to emerge.
I can stare at that blank canvas and be okay with it.
I don't need to make a mark every day.
I can enjoy the space, the blankness of it all.
I can be in flow and wait for the urge to arrive. For it to become so strong that there is no way of stopping the flow. And then, ironically, the mark takes on a life of its own. You lose track of time as you find yourself at the eye of the axis.
There's something expansive about that space. When I'm not filling it with expectation, there's room to enjoy what is evolving.
So next time you find yourself in a creative space, perhaps consider ‘Spartan’ and what it might mean for your own practice, particularly when things feel overwhelming or the work itself has possibly become overworked.
From her early love of books and poetry to her unbridled spirit on stage, Patti Smith, the iconic Queen of Punk, has forged a creative path shaped by love, loss, art and the people who changed her life. In this Temple Lah deep dive, we explore the moments, connections and courageous leaps that shaped her journey, the enduring legacy of an artist who continues to inspire, and the freedom that comes from trusting a creative calling without knowing exactly where it will lead.