Thursday, July 9, 2009


On Salon, in a piece by Scott Rosenberg (whoever he is), this sentence, sweet and unchecked, caught my eye:

“It's a mistake to think of human creativity as a kind of limited natural resource, like an ore waiting for society to mine; it is more like a gene that will turn on given the right cues.”*

I am always amazed at how easily we do exempt the mind from fetters.

No American in her right mind would dare to ascribe athletic prowess to each and every one of us, yet there we go: Inside each of us lurks an untapped Picasso; if given just the right mix of Cabernet and Pinot Noir, our pens would flow with abundantly touching visions of our inner Macondos; yes, inside every Sarah Palin hides the ghost of Thomas Jefferson; in every humdrum architect sings Sir Christopher Wren.

Is the reality so hard to swallow, then? The plain, humble acceptance of the fact that most of us – present company most certainly included – are simply not that great?

* It would be interesting to see this point argued rather than posited. I cannot think of any study that shows this, but then I perhaps haven't worked in the field of creativity research long enough.

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