“But each of us is so much more than we once were. Do you not feel with all your soul how we have become like gods? And as such, are we not indivisible? As long as a single one of us stands, we are legion…”
Anyone familiar with the Legacy of Kain series might recognise that quote, referencing the quasi-divine nature of immortal vampires and the simultaneous gift and burden of knowing a wide range of possible futures. But it recently came back into my thoughts as something of a commentary on creativity and the purveyors thereof. A somewhat more philosophical blog post this week, then.
As a creator, there is the paradoxical requirement of needing to be both incredibly humble and massively egotistical. One has to accept that not everything they create is something that everyone will enjoy, there will be criticism, and there are many, many others out there that might be doing something that is perceived as “better” than one’s own stuff; the sooner you accept that you’re not the best, the less pressure there is and the less likely your sensitivities are going to be hurt. At the same time, the mere act of creating something and showing it to the world is an expression of self-importance; you’re out there saying: “I made this, I’m super proud of it, and I’m putting it in front of your face so that you can appreciate it!” To even consider sending out something for others to witness on a large scale and hoping for something in return (whether that be praise, money, love or anything else), is a display of confidence that most people wouldn’t dream of displaying outside their own social circle. It’s why you’ll find a lot of creators don’t show their work to the world immediately, sourcing their close friends or relatives as a litmus test before going bigger.
I think this is why the online art community is so large, and why there are so many different ways to put art out there. A smaller creator finds their niche, and shows off their stuff to like-minded people, and gets back some appreciation from people they know will like it. Some might say that doing so might be the equivalent of living in an echo chamber, and that if the creator showed off their stuff on a larger scale, they would receive far less praise, and the fact that their sticking to their niche means they’re too scared to face “real” criticism. But the mere fact that all these niches exist is because creators have found the one that appeals to them, they’re enjoying themselves with like-minded people, and there is nothing wrong with that; some creators thrive in niches, because trying to appeal to the mass market means they lose the spark that makes what they create special to them.
And it is because of niches that art continues to thrive; people find what they like, they join communities, and they share in what they enjoy. They perpetuate the things that make them happy, and in turn those things become eternal; this is how categories form on art sites. A few people create something new, other people enjoy it, and suddenly it becomes a niche that attracts more like-minded artists, who might create off-shoots and spin-offs that become new niches, and so the cycle continues. As such, those who create are immortalized, not by name, but by content, and become as gods, becoming legion as long as there is one person who partakes in that content.
Maybe this is all just on my mind because I’m gaming tonight; I’m taking part in a new tabletop campaign, and we’re using a prologue session to collaboratively create a homebrew world, taking the roles of the gods and shaping said world to our own design, and then we’ll create mortal characters to play in whatever we come up with. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, but it was only really today that I made the connection between creativity and divinity as concepts. While I’d never equate myself to a deity in real life, I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to say that in the mind of every creator is a tiny bit of ego that makes them a god of their own little world; it’s why we need everyone else to keep us humble.
Ciao for now.