Thoughts About My Safe Space.
Freestyling just to empty my overloaded head.
I would like to start this post by saying that I did not plan it. I did not go through a lengthy editing process as I usually did when preparing my newsletter, nor did I work on a draft in Google docs first. I simply opened Substack in search of a lofty space to dump my thoughts today and whatever mumble jumble you are about to read is the result of that. So please pardon any linguistic mishaps and other redundancies—take these words the same way you’d receive a loud PSA through the busted speaker of an old building during an emergency evacuation. I am the panic-ridden messenger yelling a vomit of letters that may not make much sense yet deliver a message: GET THE FUCK OUT.
In my previous letters, I have often discussed the ups and downs of having and holding onto a creative career. The cons increasingly overtake the pros and the more I age, the more I question the reasons why I do what I do. In the chaos of it all, writing seems to be the only medium that keeps me going even when it piles up and projects squeeze me empty. The feeling of satisfaction I get from knowing others get a kick out of my essays and literary work surpasses by far any validation that comes from acing a “creative” commission, whatever that may mean.
Matter of fact, what does being creative even mean in today’s climate? According to the Oxford Dictionary, creative comes with two definitions:
As an adjective, creative is relating to or involving the imagination or original ideas, especially in the production of an artistic work. This is funny given that 80% of today’s work is everything but original.
As a noun, it describes a person who is creative (see above), typically in a professional context.
I participated in a talk panel in front of first-year college students at Lehmann College last week and the host and moderator—a fellow Italian writer, Giulia Baldini—asked us the following question:
“Do you consider yourself creative? If so, how?”
Immediately my mind wandered away from anything I have ever been involved in. Marketing and communications is supposed to be a creative field but in reality, it’s only creative on the surface. The truth is more sinister. Campaigns, content, and strategies are more about the sales figures they generate than the emotional impact they may entice in the viewer.
As crazy as this may sound, in 2024 a mathematician probably has more creative freedom than a creative director…at least in the advertisement world. We often read about the homogenization of art and design or the flattening of collective desirability driven by late-stage capitalism. But is capitalism really driving this shrunk narrative? Or is it more the fact that we have taken the democratization of culture too far?
Today anyone can have a platform to speak about whatever topic fancies their pickle on a particular day. Questioning their qualifications or background is a no-no, almost an offense. Because who has time to verify if Jessica, the certified board dermatologist from Winnipeg, actually holds a degree in the things she claims to be an expert in. She’s wearing scrubs and put subtitles in her video—that’s enough.
Culture is served in pills. Modern creativity is the regurgitation of tributes and old ads repackaged as fresh iterations because most of those who consume these things online have no recollection of the original. They weren’t born! And for those who were, your archive of references and brand memories really depends on where you lived at the time whaveter iconic commercial aired, how much access you had to the internet and how much free time you currenlty have on your hands to research and revisit creativity from the past. And if you do find the time to go on a digital treasure hunt, how much of it hasn’t already been algorithmically curated for hundreds of others users?
Amidst my general jaded-ism (if that’s even a real word), I found solace in this film directed by Gabriel Moses for Corteiz’s latest collaboration with Nike.
I reshared it on my Instagram thinking I was serving a palate cleanser to my loyal followers. In less than a split second,two friends came forward rightfully criticizing my feedback. This was a 1 to 1 replica of an ad the acclaimed sportswear brand proposed in 2001. My jaw dropped and I quickly recanted my statement.
Nothing about the new video was actually groundbreaking; silly little me just didn’t possess the necessary knowledge. As a big fan of Gabriel Moses, to say I was disappointed it would be an understatement. I felt betrayed, hoodwinked! Why would such great artist fall trap to such plagiarism? Then I remembered about my time at those corporations. Naive and full of fresh ideas, constantly facing the question: Ok, can we see an example of how this has succeeded other times?
In these situations your “creative” fire slowly starts to dim, dwindling away from those big, innovative ideas you had when you first set foot in the door. So you start to look for ways to escape from this mundane cycle of proposals and KPIs, dreaming of unlocking a new level of artistic autonomy that only a personal would provide. You quit your job, gather the courage to put yourself out there, beg your friends for favors, work overtime, in the weekends, on holidays just to re-ignite your passion and challenge yourself. At first, it feels great. Then you start hearing about how your new work is now a reference at those very companies you used to offer ideas to and constantly shut you down. Your personal work, things you made with the few pennies you managed to save through the years, becomes their North star. Still, you are not enough for them. So they hire others, maybe cheaper, maybe less difficult or opinionated, to replicate your benchmarks. And from the sidelines all you can say to stay sane is: imitation is the highest form of flattery. Or whatever Oscar Wilde said.
Does imitation pay for the other 20,000 beautiful ideas in the back of my brain? Does it add hours to my days, people to my roster of volunteers, resources to my bank of expertise?
And so I find myself running back to writing. My safe place. The only thing nobody can take away from me. The only creative endeavor that’s hardly replicable. Despite the millions of fantastic writers out there, no one else can process information the way that I do. Nobody can manipulate narrative nuances the way that I do. And that’s because no one experiences the world the same as me. Writing is an experience. An amalgamation of thoughts—something so ethereal, intangible, fleeting—that are so unique to the person generating them.
Even when trends swallow up public discourse, literary platforms turn into egocentric social media and mainstream publications favor influencers over masters, one thing is for certain: writing, in its purest form, remains a honest tool for expression. It’s cheap, it’s selfless, it has no mask. Gossip columns live next scientific papers, poetry coexists with factual reporting. The only thing that matters is how big of a dent it makes in your life.
I love the idea of socials democratizing culture but also giving everyone a stage to show their work. But, I agree that anyone can feel entitled to talk about anything without having the background or the insane amount of work, experience, reading that require to be insightful. Yet in the end, I believe there's a natural selection of people who can echo the work of creatives/researchers striving to elevate, and push the standards higher. Recently I came across a phrase from Susan Sontag "I don't write because there's an audience. I write because there is literature." Reading those words helped to reset and focus on what's essential. To create for the sake of it. To keep experimenting. To keep struggling in my creative process. Not to position myself in a market but because literature or whatever other art I might delve into enables me to explore who I am. To be honest, I am quite pessimistic most of the time. Because clearly this is a topic that extends to the society. I am more concerned to see people idolising or dreaming about things that are an ocean of emptiness than having a deeper view of what it means to be part of a community. I am not looking to blame anyone, but sometimes I feel disarmed when I see that things that are popular are actually rubbish. So, is it us as a society that has declined or is it the industries that are driving everyone down by not promoting innovative ideas. I don't know. I don't even know if this is how I should frame the question. Perhaps in this huge democratization of culture, where the opinion of an acclaimed professor is equivalent to the opinion of an influencer, it is crucially important to differentiate and prioritise. We are drowning in such quantities of information, opinions, and images that it is now even more important to be able to sort things out. For me, this is the most important task on a daily basis. Also, the move from a high culture to a fast-food culture served on a tiny digital screen doesn't help creative people to experiment and try to immerseve themselves in a topic and create something valuable that might last. This is becoming a luxury now that everything has to move fast to feed the audience. And I doubt things will get any better over time. For me, this is literally a political issue. As a group of human beings, what do we value ? industries crushing individuals or industries promoting individuals (very pessimistic on this one) ? What do we aim for ? better world or better sales figures (also pessimistic) ? How do we want to relate to each other ? But looking at the political climate around the world, we still have a long way to go. That said, I still believe that it is worth trying to work towards what we think is worthwhile. Eventually, that might change in the end. Anyway, I'm done rambling. Thank you for your post.
"writing, in its purest form, remains a honest tool for expression." <3