Letting go of (or redefining) success.
One of the big things I've been contemplating lately is the concept of project-based success. And in particular: what criteria we regard the success of each work, project or creative effort by.
It seems that a lot of the time, we come to the work with criteria already set; defined by tradition, by the status quo, by the zeitgeist, the scene, by technology, by the demands of the market.
"The work is successful if it puts this many bums on seats; if it gets this sort of review; if I sell this many units; if this one tastemaker likes it; if it garners a 2000% uptick in Instagram followers..."
And I think sometimes it takes a huge - and very conscious - force of will to defy these structural expectations. To experiment with the notion of letting go of these conventional understandings of what defines the success of a work of art or creative project.
My suspicion is that when the work we're doing is bottled and stoppered to strive to hit certain benchmarks, then by the very nature of that paradigm, a huge volume of pure, unadulterated curiosity has to be released out a sneaky valve in the back. The curiosity that perhaps drove us to engage in the work in the first place.
When we can let these conventional expectations for the work go, it ultimately frees us up for genuine exploration, to make bold, oblique discoveries that would otherwise have remained constricted or lain hidden.
Of course, there are certainly some projects that need to be made with the end in mind. Working to a brief it's imperative; if a project is designed as a foothold to get to the next stage of one's career in a specific industry, hoops needs must be jumped through; if you want to reach a broad audience, defining criteria by which this can happen is sensible; if you do actually need to sell units, it helps if you make units that will sell.
But I do fervently believe there are some (and for some of us, a considerable majority of) projects that should be engaged in - from the outset at least - with as little of this goal-based adherence as possible.
I think - and I might be wrong - but I think this is how we get better. This is how we discover and refine our voice. This is how we sink more deeply into our work, soften to its quieter, stranger sounds, and discover new connections with like-minded collaborators. This is how we create projects that have the potential to touch and possibly even change lives.
There is a balance to be struck - no question about it - and it does mean that in order to free this labour from market demands, we do have to find other ways of supporting this work (and I'll get into those thoughts in writing to come, I promise).
But for now, I know I need to step away from my (destructive) hardwired expectations of "success" in my own work. Which means forging forward in the bulk of my projects led primarily by curiosity, instinct and *shock horror* desire.
It means I have to re-jig the way in which I work; re-imagine how I begin projects, and it also means I need to have some honest and difficult conversations (mostly with myself) about what these new priorities are.
A huge amount of the process will be letting the work remain independent for as long as possible - not placing financial expectations or pressure on its performance. At some stage, in the later part of the work, this may shift; but the aim is not to let that happen until the bulk of the work has been generated from a place of curiosity, exploration and iteration.
So, I'm keen to hear about other people's experiences with both ways of working - the struggles and successes through your projects as you've balanced or switched between both priorities. Have you ever gotten to a point where you feel you can serve both masters? Or is that an impossibility? If you've got thoughts, I'd love to chat with you about it on Twitter.
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