Creativity and Business: A Good and Necessary Coexistence

Let’s be honest.

Business acumen and creative insight are often considered separate spheres that overlap only occasionally. It’s a common occurrence for, say, a financial analyst and a website designer, each pondering the other’s job description, to exclaim, “I could never do what you do!” And they might be right.

Personal inclinations aside, however, business and creativity belong together. What ad campaign doesn’t have as its goal an increase in sales? What artist doesn’t hope to draw some kind of income from his paintings? Who ever heard of a musician who doesn’t care whether people buy her music? And don’t product designers yearn for fanatically loyal customers, who can’t wait to get their hands on the latest version?

Don’t get me wrong. We right-brain creative types are motivated by more than profit. We love crafting things. We’re energized by the creative process. We’re bursting with the need to express ourselves. And, since there is no such thing as too much beauty or clarity in the world, we feel compelled to keep both flowing.

Yet, I think most of us realize that if what we create connects with people, they’ll buy it. The just-right creative message crafted on behalf of business should benefit that business’s bottom line. So, business sense and artistic sensibility really can, and should, coexist happily. It’s possible for the manager and the muse to play nice. Sometimes, the two even reside in the same person.

As a right-brain type, I don’t think the bottom line should drive each and every creative decision like a whip-wielding taskmaster. On the other hand, we should never embark on a creative adventure without a business compass.

Lessons from The Artist

I recently watched The Artist on DVD. I had already seen it in the theater with my daughter (we both loved it), so I was anxious to know what my wife and son thought about it. They found it moving, mesmerizing, daring, clever, and worthy of its best picture Oscar. Amazing, isn’t it, that a silent film can win best picture 85 years after The Jazz Singer, the first feature talkie? Even more astounding is that such a film could hold the attention of two teenagers from beginning to end, even prompting my son to remark, “That’s one of the best films I’ve seen this year.”

There are many reasons to appreciate and enjoy The Artist: story, acting, music, cinematography, sparse but imaginative use of sound, etc. In fact, a few scenes in this film will live on as some of the most poignant moments in movie history. I’ll never forget the image of pedestrians hurrying through the rain and unwittingly trampling a poster promoting George Valentin’s unpopular movie. Or Peppy’s whimsical encounter with Valentin’s tuxedo in his dressing room. Or that electrifying tap-dance finale. These belong alongside such enduring images as the “Here’s looking at you, kid” scene in Casa Blanca, the crop duster’s pursuit of Cary Grant in North by Northwest, and a tuxedo-clad Godfather discussing “business” in his study.

The Artist, however, offers more than just images. It offers lessons. Lessons on how to live, how to succeed, how to communicate. Here are just a few:

Adapt or die.

George Valentin was indeed an artist, but he was also a purist. He failed to accept that times were changing. Technology was advancing, and the audience was yearning for this new phenomenon of “talkies.” Valentin wrongly assumed that adapting to change would mean betraying his artistry. He chose to eschew new technology and keep his feet firmly planted in the silent era.

But people were flocking to the talkies (especially films that featured Peppy Miller, the girl whose career Valentin helped launch), and they ignored Valentin’s most recent silent movie. As Peppy’s career ascended, George’s descended. Then along came the Great Depression, plunging him into bankruptcy. His failure to adapt sent his career into a seemingly unrecoverable tailspin.

Think of all the technology to which we’ve had to adapt, just in the past ten years. What if you refused to carry a cell phone or use email? What if you shunned the computer, because you thought it ruined artistic penmanship? Consider movies nowadays. Can you imagine anyone today thinking that the only legitimate medium for special effects is stop-action photography? The old Ray Harryhausen monsters, jerkily swiping at vehicles or grasping at fleeing warriors, were magical in their day. But they were the forerunners of more advanced and realistic CGI effects.

Don’t get me wrong. I still pick up a pen and hand-write a note now and then. And I’m a huge claymation fan (the works of Nick Park and Aardman Animations come to mind: Wallace and Gromit, Chicken Run, etc.). But these fill a novelty niche. Ironically, The Artist is a silent film that tells a story about the demise of silent films. It works, and it’s wonderful. Just don’t look for silent films to become mainstream. Technology marches on.

I once watched a special on the making of The Wizard of Oz and was amazed at how they pulled off the effects. The tornado, for example, was a giant sheet of muslin cloth shaped into a cone and connected to machinery that caused it to jerk and twist. I marveled at the imagination and ingenuity that scene required. Moviemakers had to use whatever was lying around; they couldn’t just create something ex nihilo on the computer. Yet, if The Wizard of Oz was being made today, I can’t imagine the effects crew refusing to use CGI because it somehow inhibited their artistry.

My point is that adapting to technology doesn’t necessarily mean the end of artistry. Even “hands-on” artists, such as painters and sculptors, display their works on the web. Technology doesn’t have to rule us, but it can serve us. Even us creative types.

There’s a business application here, too. Think of once-great companies with innovative products (BlackBerry, America Online, Blockbuster, Kodak, and others), who failed to adapt to shifts in the market and changes in consumer habits. George Valentin has a warning for us all, artist and businessperson alike: Adapt or die!

Care about People.

Hollywood is big business; always has been. Studio bosses, especially in the early days of moviemaking, have been known to be downright ruthless at times. What makes The Artist so charming is that the characters, especially Peppy Miller, really care about people. Peppy could have jumped on the fast train to success and left George alone at the station—and no one would have batted an eye. After all, that’s how the biz goes.

Peppy, however, does the unexpected. Throughout the film, she is constantly trying to help George, keep him involved in the industry he loves, and keep him from losing everything—especially his self-worth. In the end, it is her unflagging friendship that puts him back on the screen, and back in the business. It’s the happiest movie ending I’ve seen in years.

An executive I respect recently retired from the telecommunications company for whom I work. As people reacted to the news, it was clear that most of them hated to see him go. Those who worked closely with him summed up his career this way: “Brilliant guy. Hard worker. Really cared about people.”

Just as technology doesn’t necessitate the loss of artistry, neither does success mean we have to stop caring about people.

Tell a great story.

Everyone has a story to tell. Novelists. Moviemakers. Companies. Employees. Everyday people. The current advice from career counselors is that your resume’ should be more than just information; it should tell a story. It should take prospective employers on a journey—the journey of you. One sage suggested that a resume’ should clearly portray a character who’s involved in a plot, should reach a high point, and yet leave the impression that there’s more of the story to be written.

So, anyone with a story to tell can learn something from The Artist. George Valentin travels from riches to rags to riches. From success to failure to success. From pride to humility to gratefulness. From purist to realist. And every stage of the journey is a feast for the senses. I’ll never forget the scene that takes place in the offices of Kinograph Studios. George has just left a meeting in which it became clear that the studio’s executives are moving into the era of talkies—without him. As he descends the staircase, he runs into Peppy, now Kinograph’s new rising star. As they talk, Peppy is standing above George on the landing, while he is several steps below her. It’s a visual reminder that her career is on the way up, while his is on the way down.

The images, action, dialogue, emotion, even the silence, are there to serve the story. I would rather see a silent film like The Artist—a masterfully told story—than any disjointed, plot-deficient, CGI-laden assault on the senses.

Stories are all around us. They’re in our resume’s, corporate brands, family histories, dreams and goals. Do you know your story? Are you telling it? The Artist offers a lesson for all of us: Tell your story, tell it with skill, and make it memorable.

If you haven’t yet seen The Artist—perhaps because you just can’t imagine sitting through a silent film—pick up the DVD. You might be surprised at how much you like it. You might even enjoy it so much, you won’t be able to keep silent about it.

Reflecting and Resolving

The revolving door of the holidays has come to a stop, and we’ve stepped into the lobby of a brand new year. During the past week, you’ve probably done one or more of the following:  1) packed up your holiday decorations, 2) sent your relatives home, 3) exchanged the sweater that would have fit if you hadn’t eaten an entire cherry pie by yourself, 4) said to your kids more than once, “Suck it up, moaners; school is back in session,” 5) reflected on 2011, 6) made resolutions for 2012.

I’ve done all the above, except I avoided number 3 (it was actually an apple pie). The last two items on the list, however—reflecting and resolving—especially intrigue me. This time of year, I like to take a look behind me before moving on. I take some time to reflect on the events that impacted our world and culture, remember my personal success and failures, count my blessings, take note of where I need to improve, and so on.

As part of the reflection stage, I might scour the Internet for those “Year in Review” pieces. You’ll find them everywhere, and from every perspective: world news, politics, technical achievements, entertainment, even humor. If you want to start 2012 with a hilarious recap of 2011, check out Dave Barry’s “2011 Year in Review” here.

Call me morbid, but I even like to visit those “celebrity death” sites to see who passed away during the previous year. This exercise brings to mind three important truths: 1) one person really can make a difference (for good or ill), 2) our days are numbered, so we should make them count, and 3) we should be able to trade James Arness or Harry Morgan for the Kardashians.

Anyway, moving from reflection to resolution, I don’t make an impossibly long list, or set the bar up to the stratosphere (I know, for example, that I will never completely ditch caffeine or sugar). Rather, I try to focus on the non-negotiables—such as maintaining good health (physical, mental, spiritual, financial); enriching my family life; setting personal and professional goals; etc. Beyond that, I try to set a creative goal or two—such as writing on a new topic, trying my hand at drawing, discovering a new author or some new music, etc.

Not in the habit of setting creative goals for yourself? Ah, well, if you’re still putting together your 2012 resolutions, throw one or two of these into the mix:

1. Read one book you wouldn’t normally read. For example, if your diet consists mainly of material that pertains to your profession, take a break and lose yourself in a mystery or science fiction novel. Or, if fiction is your mental main course, try wrapping your brain around an introductory philosophy or theology text. Sure, theology’s a tougher read, but just think of it: you’ll be the only one at cocktail parties throwing around works like infralapsarian.
2. Write a poem. There’s nothing better than sweating over a sonnet or haiku to teach you about the beauty and economy of speech. It will improve your everyday writing, no matter your profession or style.
3. Draw, even if you think you can’t. A sketch pad and introductory drawing text are all you need. Take your time, the whole year if you want. But draw something. Be patient with yourself. A great place to start is with Betty Edwards’ Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain materials. Check out the website dedicated to her theory and method at www.drawright.com. If you need some encouragement, peruse the online gallery while you’re there. You’ll be amazed at what “non-artistic” types have been able to produce.
4. Discover some new music. If you’re not yet familiar with Pandora, the online music discovery app, give it a try. You can download it on your computer, smartphone or tablet. You simply think of a musician whose music you enjoy—say, Adele—then create an online “station” based on Adele, and Pandora finds and plays Adele and any other artists who sound like her. Thanks to Pandora, I now listen to dozens of artists I never knew existed. You can also create genre-specific stations, such as “smooth jazz” and “classical.” Go ahead, open up Pandora. It’s even more enticing and surprising that Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates.
5. Make a short movie. Use all those stills and videos you’ve taken with your smartphone to cobble together a three-minute movie. A Mac and iMovie make it easy and intuitive for any amateur to combine images, music, titles, etc., for a professional-looking finished product. If you use a PC, Microsoft Moviemaker will do the job, but a little less seamlessly than the Mac.
6. Make your PowerPoint presentations a work of art. Resolve once and for all to make your PowerPoint presentations less cluttered and more compelling. Just Google “better powerpoint,” and you’ll have plenty of help. Think, design, and practice when the pressure’s off and you have the time. Then, when the floor is yours, you’ll wow people like never before. A book that forever changed my approach to PowerPoint was The Presentation Secrets of Steve Jobs: How to Be Insanely Great in Front of Any Audience.
7. Take a crack at making your own pottery. Check your town or city for a studio that will take you through every stage of the process—from glob to glaze. Think of the possibilities! No more small coffee cups that require re-filling. You can craft your own gallon drum with a handle on it! Or, as Starbucks would call it, a godzillatte!

Well, that’s a start, anyway. Good luck, and happy new year!

Don’t lose that low-tech creativity!

I have a confession to make.

I still write letters occasionally. The old-fashioned kind. The kind you create by scrawling words on paper with a fountain pen. The kind you crease, fold, slip into an envelope, slap a stamp on, and drop in a mailbox. The kind nobody writes any more. I’ve also been known to doodle and draw.

No, I am not a Luddite. In fact, I’m somewhat of a geek. I enjoy technology and wouldn’t want to live without it. My smartphone is an extension of myself. I would be lost without it (or at the very least, a lot less efficient and productive). But there’s something about working with low-tech media that keeps my right brain active and infuses my life, even my digital life, with creativity.

Maybe it’s the feel of the writing (or drawing) instrument in my hand. Perhaps a pen gliding over paper provides a satisfaction than can’t be experienced when tapping keys or clicking a mouse. Or is it a sense of freedom that I feel—the sensation that my hand can carry out my brain’s wishes immediately, unshackled from computer hardware? I’m not sure how to explain it. I just know that I need to maintain that low-tech connection—in the same way I need to keep real books alongside the Kindle. There’s something about the heft of a bound volume, the texture of the cover, the sound of real pages turning, that immerses me more fully in the story.

Skills like penmanship, pottery-making, drawing, and painting get us down into the trenches of the creative process. They require something besides digital ones and zeros. They require flesh-and-blood digits—fingers that feel, grasp, curl, knead, and shape. I would argue that maintaining such a low-tech connection actually causes us to live more effectively in a high-tech world.

In a commencement address to Standford graduates in 2005, Steve Jobs related how a calligraphy class he once attended provided the inspiration for the beautiful fonts used on the first Macintosh computer. And throughout his amazing career at Apple, Jobs maintained that symbiosis between artistic beauty and technological functionality.

Carmine Gallo, in his book The Presentation Secrets of Steve Jobs: How to be Insanely Great in Front of Any Audience, reveals the ironic truth that Jobs, an icon of the digital world, planned his famous product presentations with pen and paper. Says Gallo, “Steve Jobs has built a reputation in the digital world of bits and bytes, but he creates stories in the very old-world tradition of pen and paper” (p. 3). Gallo goes on to explain that Jobs would storyboard the “plot” of his presentations before ever picking up a “camera” (i.e., the presentation software). Sketching out ideas with pen and paper first has a way of bringing clarity and creativity to the final digital presentation.

And who would think that screenwriting has anything to do with business management? Yet businesspeople of all stripes are paying hundreds of dollars to attend screenwriting workshops by Robert McKee, the author of Story. The art of telling a compelling story in a creative way apparently has its applications in the business world. Think about how such a skill could benefit business: pitching prospective clients, reporting the quarterly numbers, writing up performance reviews, planning and presenting company-wide town halls, advertising and marketing.

I was talking with a co-worker one day about how much I enjoyed writing with fountain pens, and I was lamenting the loss of penmanship as a taught skill. He responded, “You know, computers are never going away. If my kid has to choose between a class on penmanship and one on computers, I know which way I’m going to direct him: computers.”

I understand what he was getting at: If you’re going to survive in the computer age, you have to learn to use computers; stick to pen and paper alone, and you’ll be left in the dust. But why should we have to choose between excellent penmanship and computers—especially when Jobs and others have proven than one can enhance, even inspire, the other?

I’m not saying we should sell our laptops and use the money to buy stationery; I correspond more by email and texting than any other methods. But I still use pen and paper occasionally for notes and letters. And when I’m planning presentations and speeches, I often start by sketching out a graphic or two, connecting thoughts and ideas with lines and arrows, etc. That low-tech approach helps me see where I’m going, helps me experience the journey more fully. And more often than not, it provides the raw material for my digital workshop (i.e., the keyboard and screen).

So, don’t throw away that pen, stationery, and sketch pad just yet. If you haven’t used them in a while, pull them off the shelf, blow off the dust, and try your hand at some old-fashioned writing or drawing next time you’re planning an article, speech, presentation, or project. And let low-tech take your work to new heights.

Steve Jobs and the Impartiality of Creativity

The incredible life of Steve Jobs, which ended on October 5, taught us—and will continue to teach us—many profound lessons. Among them:

• Follow your gut.
• Great ideas, no matter how crazy they sound to everyone else, are worth fighting for.
• Design matters every bit as much as functionality—in fact, the two are inseparable.
• It takes more work to be simple than it does to be complicated.
• The Beatles were as much a paradigm for business as they were a model for musicians.
• If you have to choose between art school and LSD . . . (well, never mind).

If I may add another, Jobs’ life taught us that when it comes to occupations, creativity is impartial.

Have you ever caught yourself saying (or heard others say), “I’m just not the creative type?” That statement might be true, if you’re only comparing your creative skills to those of accomplished artists, writers, and sculptors. But creativity, being an interdisciplinary skill, doesn’t limit itself that way. It doesn’t discriminate based on how you earn a paycheck. It’s possible to exercise creativity as a nurse, an attorney, a teacher, a salesperson, a clerk, and, yes, even a technophile.

Linda Naiman, founder of Creativity at Work (www.creativityatwork.com) defines creativity as “the act of turning new and imaginative ideas into reality.” Nothing in that definition limits creativity to artists. Creativity can show itself in a new business process, an innovative product, a better teaching method, a new way to tackle problems, etc.

Creativity is a universal language. Any profession understands phrases like “I have a great idea,” “I see things differently,” and “We can do better.” Is the soil of some professions, and of some environments, more fertile for creativity than others? Of course. But that doesn’t mean we can’t cultivate creativity at some level, wherever we are.

Few people will ever have the impact Steve Jobs had on the world. But we can all make a personal pledge to “think different,” wherever we are, whatever we do.