I have this friend, who is a very nice girl. She is talented, she is fun, and she has it sparkling out of her eyes to such a degree that it practically leaks out of her eyes like tears, but only fun. I met her and lived with her only once, about a year ago, and only for a few days, a few weeks. But I learnt that she is working with crafts and she is working in Jaipur.
A couple of days back, I notice that she has been putting up stuff online of what she has been working on at the present, and I don't know if it is for her graduation or not, but it looks like its going to be BIG. Its called Banaras- The city of stories, and its BEAUTIFUL. Or so it seems from the little glimpses she has let the general public like me see. It involves video, photography, illustration and anything they can think of to tell a story.
But what is it about it that has induced me to write this? It is the HONESTY of what they are doing. Because the honesty is something which hits you the moment you look at the work being done.
It practically slapped me in the face, I don't mind telling you. And I relished the sting of it. Because it made me realize what it is like to do something you want to do, and not having to whore yourself to do it. Because until a couple of weeks ago I was in the same position. I was in that position for the last six to eight months of my life. And I was nothing more than a prostitute to the powers that be. The work that I came out with is less than my work and more of something I'd rather not think about anymore. It left me with no sense of identity whatsoever. I hope them powers that be are happy to suck the soul out of students day in and day out in the name of education, ripening them, stewing them in their own misery, and spitting them out once the juicy parts are scoured clean.
Because Benaras- The city of stories looks like it has an individual voice. Its like a strong nostalgic flavor peppering every image, every video, every illustration. And its wonderful. This is not the work of a couple overtly gentrified and uber sophisticated design school graduates who have been fed on lies that certain things that have been shown to them entitles them to walk out with the unshakable belief that everything else around them is less that inferior to them as the dust under their feet. There is no pretension. What there is, is a very transparent sense of understanding, and an honest attempt at understanding the subject that they have chosen to work with. The openness is apparent and is one of the most beguiling things which draws you in even if you are just watching teasers of the actual project. These girls have gone out, speaking a language which might not be sophisticated to some that I know, lived with their subjects, interacted with them on the same level and then built a narrative which speaks a unique language of its own. How can you not be taken in by something like this? How can you not call it beautiful creativity? It might be unpolished and rough around the edges, but the content shines through like silver vessel under a pool of grimy water. And lets not kid ourselves, Content is King, Queen and the entire damn Kingdom.
This brings me to question, why is our own innate creativity not enough to be appreciated with out the proverbial "But..." tagging along after every honest creative output we produce? Whats with the hypocrisy? The powers that be shout out from the rooftops that the design institution is a place where creativity is prized like the virgin in a medieval romance, that encouragement of groundbreaking and alternative thought is the byword to live by, thought which loafs around all over the place while leaving the box to stagnate in a dusty corner is how one thrives and lives there. Such utter bollocks. Underneath this surface propaganda is a pure hankering after a piece of market, a market which already exists. This market is a place which has been established over fifty years ago for a certain number of things, and the only thing that gives one the edge is doing something which appears to be breaking ground in ways which appear to be different, yet still in the market, only crafted to look like something which has never been done before. The product generated isn't catering to a different clientele, it is just handing the consumer something which does the same thing as another product existing before, only the product now is completely incomprehensible, because it is dressed up in words which are frankly so spaced out that I don't think the designers themselves know what they mean. Its just design vocabulary version of corporate jargon. I wonder where is the new thought? If I think about this in a logical fashion, I come to the conclusion that a new thought requires a new market. A new market which is specific to what is on offer. A new market cannot be generated like a conjurers trick. It is amorphous and it forms by it self. Interest is generated. One cannot force interest. Its like lycra, you either have it or you don't. And interest is what is the catalysis of a market. And to be clear I am talking about design and art here, so when I say market, I mean it in an illustrative fashion, not in a financial/economic strain, tho that does factor in at different levels obviously.
I believe that each one of us toiling away in art and design bring with us our own brand of creativity. This is very obvious, of course, since the design school purportedly encourages this innate and individual creativity. And what we produce from this, the content, has to generate interest somewhere. Its an action-reaction thing. The numbers might vary, but I refuse to think that innate raw creative output has no takers. There always will be, even though the numbers might read a solitary one. And that is worth it. That is worth doing the work one wants to do, and believes in. Assuming an audience is unintelligent is insanity. And a general intelligent audience will always find work which has content shining through the rough exterior of interest. And at the end of the day that's what all of us hope for isn't it? The generation of interest? Because most of us spend our lives on the eternal crusade of things of interest, because we are human beings and hence we think, in whatever capacity we can.
I finished my project, which was a webcomic, with no desire or interest in anything. I felt empty. I felt like I was going mad. And I had followed to the letter, everything I was asked to do. If you look at the final work, you will find that it has no part of me, or worse yet, most undesirable parts of me. Parts I shudder to own up to. You will not see my voice in it. You wont find me wanting to say something. You will see that I was attempting to say something and it was unceremoniously buried under a dung heap of what is the current practice of sound design. To make it something else, now that I have the opportunity, is something which makes me shudder to the bone. I don't have the energy for it. My throat is sore and it needs solid recuperation in order to infuse my voice in it again. What is hateful about the entire experience is that none of it was appreciated.
I was always fighting an uphill war against standards which are not my own, by someone else's, and whose standard, in turn, was derived from things which were not true to them, yet they did not see. Keeping standards is important, very much so. But everything unique should have its own standards, no? What are we measuring it against? Is it even possible to compare? Is it not a logical fallacy to compare two unique things? I always thought that the word 'unique' broached no points of comparison. The only standard which something which is one of a kind is required to live up to is itself.
I wanted to tell a story. And I told it. I put thought behind it, I spent time on in indiscriminately, tortured over decisions that needed to be taken, painfully, and finally made a narrative. Only to be told what was unsatisfactory about it was everything. Why? Because my style wasn't meeting the standards, the technology wasn't meeting the standards, in summation, I wasn't meeting the standards, in context rendering my effort and artistic effort null and void. And this was something I was working on for myself. It wasn't a project for a client, but a brief of my own creation, as asked for, and a project of my own. What changed was everything.
I can categorically state that, to this day, the story has never been read. It is buried under a shit dump of working design. with no prospect for the silver in it to shine through the grimy water. There is no prospect for anybody to say, sure its rough around the edges and its unpolished, but I love it! And I am left with a wasted eight months, with a severe case of lost identity and looking forward to immediately jumping into any work that comes my way which will put money in the bank.
I am a wonderful creation of the design school, I must tell you. My blood is equal parts plasma, frustration, bitterness, deep envy and a depth less level of cowardice and unwillingness to take chances. A fantastic creation of conditioning I am.
I look at a project like Banaras, and I think how absolutely delightful it seems, and more than that, how interesting and joyful it must be to be working on such a thing, and envious of having that opportunity to not be worried about their creativity being set to standards, and just working for the joy of doing something which generates interest in oneself and also generates interest from the work itself. It is priceless, and it is absolutely delightful. And I hope with all my heart that it turns out to be everything the creators wanted it to be.
A couple of days back, I notice that she has been putting up stuff online of what she has been working on at the present, and I don't know if it is for her graduation or not, but it looks like its going to be BIG. Its called Banaras- The city of stories, and its BEAUTIFUL. Or so it seems from the little glimpses she has let the general public like me see. It involves video, photography, illustration and anything they can think of to tell a story.
But what is it about it that has induced me to write this? It is the HONESTY of what they are doing. Because the honesty is something which hits you the moment you look at the work being done.
It practically slapped me in the face, I don't mind telling you. And I relished the sting of it. Because it made me realize what it is like to do something you want to do, and not having to whore yourself to do it. Because until a couple of weeks ago I was in the same position. I was in that position for the last six to eight months of my life. And I was nothing more than a prostitute to the powers that be. The work that I came out with is less than my work and more of something I'd rather not think about anymore. It left me with no sense of identity whatsoever. I hope them powers that be are happy to suck the soul out of students day in and day out in the name of education, ripening them, stewing them in their own misery, and spitting them out once the juicy parts are scoured clean.
Because Benaras- The city of stories looks like it has an individual voice. Its like a strong nostalgic flavor peppering every image, every video, every illustration. And its wonderful. This is not the work of a couple overtly gentrified and uber sophisticated design school graduates who have been fed on lies that certain things that have been shown to them entitles them to walk out with the unshakable belief that everything else around them is less that inferior to them as the dust under their feet. There is no pretension. What there is, is a very transparent sense of understanding, and an honest attempt at understanding the subject that they have chosen to work with. The openness is apparent and is one of the most beguiling things which draws you in even if you are just watching teasers of the actual project. These girls have gone out, speaking a language which might not be sophisticated to some that I know, lived with their subjects, interacted with them on the same level and then built a narrative which speaks a unique language of its own. How can you not be taken in by something like this? How can you not call it beautiful creativity? It might be unpolished and rough around the edges, but the content shines through like silver vessel under a pool of grimy water. And lets not kid ourselves, Content is King, Queen and the entire damn Kingdom.
This brings me to question, why is our own innate creativity not enough to be appreciated with out the proverbial "But..." tagging along after every honest creative output we produce? Whats with the hypocrisy? The powers that be shout out from the rooftops that the design institution is a place where creativity is prized like the virgin in a medieval romance, that encouragement of groundbreaking and alternative thought is the byword to live by, thought which loafs around all over the place while leaving the box to stagnate in a dusty corner is how one thrives and lives there. Such utter bollocks. Underneath this surface propaganda is a pure hankering after a piece of market, a market which already exists. This market is a place which has been established over fifty years ago for a certain number of things, and the only thing that gives one the edge is doing something which appears to be breaking ground in ways which appear to be different, yet still in the market, only crafted to look like something which has never been done before. The product generated isn't catering to a different clientele, it is just handing the consumer something which does the same thing as another product existing before, only the product now is completely incomprehensible, because it is dressed up in words which are frankly so spaced out that I don't think the designers themselves know what they mean. Its just design vocabulary version of corporate jargon. I wonder where is the new thought? If I think about this in a logical fashion, I come to the conclusion that a new thought requires a new market. A new market which is specific to what is on offer. A new market cannot be generated like a conjurers trick. It is amorphous and it forms by it self. Interest is generated. One cannot force interest. Its like lycra, you either have it or you don't. And interest is what is the catalysis of a market. And to be clear I am talking about design and art here, so when I say market, I mean it in an illustrative fashion, not in a financial/economic strain, tho that does factor in at different levels obviously.
I believe that each one of us toiling away in art and design bring with us our own brand of creativity. This is very obvious, of course, since the design school purportedly encourages this innate and individual creativity. And what we produce from this, the content, has to generate interest somewhere. Its an action-reaction thing. The numbers might vary, but I refuse to think that innate raw creative output has no takers. There always will be, even though the numbers might read a solitary one. And that is worth it. That is worth doing the work one wants to do, and believes in. Assuming an audience is unintelligent is insanity. And a general intelligent audience will always find work which has content shining through the rough exterior of interest. And at the end of the day that's what all of us hope for isn't it? The generation of interest? Because most of us spend our lives on the eternal crusade of things of interest, because we are human beings and hence we think, in whatever capacity we can.
I finished my project, which was a webcomic, with no desire or interest in anything. I felt empty. I felt like I was going mad. And I had followed to the letter, everything I was asked to do. If you look at the final work, you will find that it has no part of me, or worse yet, most undesirable parts of me. Parts I shudder to own up to. You will not see my voice in it. You wont find me wanting to say something. You will see that I was attempting to say something and it was unceremoniously buried under a dung heap of what is the current practice of sound design. To make it something else, now that I have the opportunity, is something which makes me shudder to the bone. I don't have the energy for it. My throat is sore and it needs solid recuperation in order to infuse my voice in it again. What is hateful about the entire experience is that none of it was appreciated.
I was always fighting an uphill war against standards which are not my own, by someone else's, and whose standard, in turn, was derived from things which were not true to them, yet they did not see. Keeping standards is important, very much so. But everything unique should have its own standards, no? What are we measuring it against? Is it even possible to compare? Is it not a logical fallacy to compare two unique things? I always thought that the word 'unique' broached no points of comparison. The only standard which something which is one of a kind is required to live up to is itself.
I wanted to tell a story. And I told it. I put thought behind it, I spent time on in indiscriminately, tortured over decisions that needed to be taken, painfully, and finally made a narrative. Only to be told what was unsatisfactory about it was everything. Why? Because my style wasn't meeting the standards, the technology wasn't meeting the standards, in summation, I wasn't meeting the standards, in context rendering my effort and artistic effort null and void. And this was something I was working on for myself. It wasn't a project for a client, but a brief of my own creation, as asked for, and a project of my own. What changed was everything.
I can categorically state that, to this day, the story has never been read. It is buried under a shit dump of working design. with no prospect for the silver in it to shine through the grimy water. There is no prospect for anybody to say, sure its rough around the edges and its unpolished, but I love it! And I am left with a wasted eight months, with a severe case of lost identity and looking forward to immediately jumping into any work that comes my way which will put money in the bank.
I am a wonderful creation of the design school, I must tell you. My blood is equal parts plasma, frustration, bitterness, deep envy and a depth less level of cowardice and unwillingness to take chances. A fantastic creation of conditioning I am.
I look at a project like Banaras, and I think how absolutely delightful it seems, and more than that, how interesting and joyful it must be to be working on such a thing, and envious of having that opportunity to not be worried about their creativity being set to standards, and just working for the joy of doing something which generates interest in oneself and also generates interest from the work itself. It is priceless, and it is absolutely delightful. And I hope with all my heart that it turns out to be everything the creators wanted it to be.
