The Creative Fight

Field Notes III.IX: Thoughts on creativity, where it comes from, and where it leads us

Welcome to Field Notes!

Where does the creative drive within us arise from? My inclination is that there is no one answer and that it is unique to the individual. At least, I hope that is the case because my own creativity seems to thrive off of a different substance than most others.

Many seek calm and quiet in order to create. A sunny garden filled with springtime blooms. Or maybe it is a peaceful, stress free time in a coffee shop with the aroma of fresh roasted beans and the warm patina of old wooden tables which allows the ideas to flow unhindered. Others may need the security of knowing they do not need to rush and can take time to finish and polish their work. These are all valid conditions for creativity, and I sometimes prize these moments myself.

This is not where my inspiration lies. The creativity within me demands a challenge and it thrives when that challenge is fierce and physical. My creativity wades into the melee, gets knocked down flat, arises bruised and bloodied yet unhindered by the pain, then smiles and looks for the next bigger opponent.

My creativity flourishes in the fight.

I have learned that it is the confluence of physical challenge and creativity that fuels the inner fire. This confluence is a strange place to exist within. In my career I am proud to count some very tough men and women as my peers. Yet I can see the questioning in their faces as they learn of my photography pursuits, let alone my interest in literature, philosophy, or even poetry. Most don’t recognize the physical challenge I have spliced together with these arts.

On the other hand, I have met photographers and artists such as in the local photography guild I have begun attending. These men and women are exceptionally skilled and fully committed to the intellectual and emotional component of their craft. They are highly successful at it. However, not many of them would consider strength and conditioning training in order to attempt to create on top of a 6000ft mountain peak.

I know there are others of you out there who understand this confluence. And you will know if that is you when you read this. We are a curious breed.

Last May I thru hiked The Foothills Trail in South Carolina. I walked 76 miles of rough terrain under heavy load in five days, with the first and last days being half days. It was tough. In the middle of this trek I found myself asking “is suffering required for art?”

Creativity is painful and I have come to believe that suffering is a requirement for creating authentically. This is not the pain of sodden feet crushed by miles under a heavy pack, although for me it is closely entwined. No. This pain comes from confronting one’s own soul in silence, dipping into its rawness to draw out an attempt at art, and suffering in the secret knowledge that even one’s very best effort is not as good as one hoped. The call to create is a constant pursuit of an ever elusive perfection of one’s craft. There is beauty in that. The sweat, both physical and metaphorical, is cleansing.

Whether one’s creativity flows from serenity or chaos, I think some bit of suffering is required of every artist or creator. Exposing one’s inner self in one’s art for the world to see and judge is a terrifying concept. It demands courage and anyone who shares their work anywhere demonstrates this. This is what gives artists soul-in-the-game, as Nassim Taleb would say.

For me the suffering requirement is more literal. On the evening I pondered this question in the midst of this thru hike, I made this photo-

It is perhaps not the most stunning landscape photo, but I have a special fondness for it because of the context of when I took it. This was over halfway through the journey. I had hiked over 40 miles at this point, in silent pain and exhaustion. This photo would not have happened without those elements. And it is that context that I live for, and that drives me to strive for better. As I look at this image I yearn to walk farther, to more remote locations, and to learn more about my craft in order to create even better photos.

In July of 2023 I was backpacking in the Cohutta Wilderness of Northwest Georgia. I sought a remote waterfall named Panther Creek Falls, with a view from the top. I believed the rivers I hiked along would keep me cool, but it was late afternoon as I arrived at the west facing cliff I had to ascend.

Panther Creek Trail is even more scraggy than the Conasauga. I force myself up, step by step, knowing that my destination inches closer. The trail seems to vanish in an angled field of overgrown rocks and boulders. Fallen trees and branches cause me to scrape my knees crawling under or twist awkwardly going over. I dodge poison ivy sporadically reaching out, but everywhere is knee high stinging nettle. The nettle is unavoidable. The brush of these venomous leaves mixes with the rolling sweat and the countless scrapes and cuts in the flesh of my lower legs. As my lungs billow for air in the blistering afternoon sun, the nettle lights my shins on fire.

I made it to the top, where I bathed alone in the stream in the middle of the wilderness. I absorbed the view in reverent silence. I photographed Panther Creek Falls.

A month later I was backpacking in the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness of Western North Carolina. I thought the higher elevation mountains would provide some relief from the heat. Instead, I found myself forcing my way uphill along unmaintained trails so overgrown with vegetation that the humidity left me rolling in sweat. Thorns and leaves tore at the skin of my arms and legs. Rain had been scarce, so I tried to conserve water. But, this left me dangerously dehydrated.

A raspy cry shot uncontrollably from my throat as I froze mid trail. The seizing adductor in my right thigh pulsed in agony. I dug fingers into the muscle, trying to get the intense cramp to release. It would not. I dropped my pack and dragged my leg to a nearby rock where I could elevate and stretch it. Then the VMO, the tear shaped lower quad muscle, rippled in spasms. A stretch in one direction triggered the muscle opposing it. The muscle convulsions eased and I shuffled forward by inches, but the cramps then jumped to the other leg. Sweat ran freely through my saturated shirt and down my arms, dripping like rainfall into the dust on the path. There were still miles to climb ahead, but even more if I turned back. My body needed water and salt and rest. I was stuck on a high ridge line, unable to walk.

I loved it. I loved fighting my way up that mountain. I loved both the effort and the fear. Eventually, I did make it to the top of Bob Stratton Bald where that evening I made this photo-

And I spent the next night at The Hangover, where I made this one the following morning-

In early January 2024 I endured bitter cold on top of Blood Mountain in North Georgia.

Aches and discomfort define the night. At 01:00 I awake to the roar of wind through barren branches clawing at the sky. My tent is protected from the gusts by a large rock ledge, but it is a sign that the clouds are being driven away and temperatures are dropping further. I am warm in my sleeping bag, except for my feet. I sleep in stretches of 1 to 2 hours, awakened by the dull ache of frigid toes. Moonlight makes the tent glow.

I created this panorama under the pressure of this challenge-

My point is simply this. These are the challenges that thrill me, that inspire me to create, and that motivate me to become better.

Recently, though, I was confronted by a different type of challenge. As I’ve alluded to over the past few weeks, I learned that my truck was in need of expensive repairs related to rust on the front suspension. This has left me fairly grounded near home and forced to find other sources of creativity than backpacking adventures.

This is a challenge of finances and of patience. It isn’t the challenge I wanted, but it was the one I was given. I am reminded of my favorite quote-

The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way.

- Marcus Aurelius

This was my mantra as I recovered from a broken knee in 2019, and so it helps me now. My creativity will stand and fight even this challenge. It is a fight for unique viewpoints and insight into the everyday world around me. It led me to photograph frost covered vegetation in January and the world as seen from underwater in February.

I survived those creative scraps and am proud for having done so. They are, however, one-offs. The frost was dependent on a transient weather event. The underwater photos were unique, but not something I wish to creatively pursue with only a GoPro. They were creative challenges, but not sustainable creative paths. I have been looking for something more lasting. I need a true challenge to my creativity.

Brittany Polat

recently wrote an essay on Wabi Sabi Stoicism in art.

Wabi Sabi Stoicism

This concept resonated very deeply with me. I had a strong interest in Japanese art and culture from high school into college. I have also been aware of how closely some of these artistic principles align with Stoicism. The idea that these philosophical concepts can be embodied visually in art seems obvious now, but reading this article was a true awakening for me.

I believe some of my past photographs embody Wabi Sabi Stoic elements, but this was purely accidental. Or, at least it was incidental because it was not my conscious motive.

I am beginning to examine these old photos and to explore how to work intentionally towards Wabi Sabi Stoic photography. I have ideas, but right now I have no map for how to get there. This will be creative trail blazing for me, and I plan to share how this develops along the way.

I will return to backpacking, adventuring, and all of the physical challenges that this entails soon enough. Life, however, cannot be all highlight moments. There are lulls along the way. For now I have found a new direction, an enduring creative challenge, to pursue during the times between adventures. It is an intellectual challenge I am excited to meet. Perhaps, over time, it will infuse all of my creative work.

More to follow.

Haha, I came out swinging on this one! What do all of you creators think? Suffering and art… are they inseparable? How physical is your art? Lets duke it out in the comments!

In reality though, in this essay I’m kind of establishing the background and laying the groundwork for my future work on Stoic Wabi Sabi photography. I am enormously grateful to Brittany Polat for planting this idea in my mind (and Brittany, I hope you don’t mind me referencing your essay more in the future). We haven’t quite gone there yet, but if any of you have thoughts on philosophical art or visual philosophy, I’d love to hear it!

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