This interest popped up in my head after I looked at excerpts of my writing, including the essays published here, and found myself disappointed. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first because it was something natural to me. It was my style; To take interesting concepts like art and creativity and whittle them down to school essays begging for a grade was dry at best.
I realized the issue: There was no trace of an individual writer and person in said writing. Not much personal, which can be odd when you consider how creativity comes in 8 billion shades, and yet I didn’t know mine. My scholarly essays were doing fine and dandy, but my creative endeavors were suffering.
As an MA student, and wannabe novelist, I felt the pure opposition in my brain’s artistic and academic sides, especially how easy it is for the latter to interfere in the former’s activities.
My artistic side wasn’t always the less dominant one. As a teen, I found it easier to block out the world in favor of my own, than I do as an adult. I had a tendency to eschew schoolwork in favor of writing or playing my guitar. The only reason I no longer have that quirk (and believe me, I miss it more than anything else) was getting my academic life sorted out. I’ll spare the scary details for my bad school reports and what that meant for university prospects.
Over the last year, I realized that the other extreme sucks too. I noticed that more people find the academic half to be more dominant than the reverse. We mark academic styles of writing by a slow, boring attribute. However, they have one thing the artistic side lacks, which is its classic prestige and renown. Think about how we perceive academic writers: Damn if you don’t want to be that smart, that well-read and cultured. This quality does not differ from an admired higher-up praising a professional piece: “This deserves a high mark. Well done!”. It’s especially true if you’re a new overachiever, or your field is more abstract with what makes an A.
You are at an impasse: It’s either you’re too academic, but you’re as internally vivid as a flatfish, or you’re amazing at coming up with with, colorful concepts, but the time and effort it requires makes you look dumb on paper. Here you are, hanging between the choice of a stellar record or a vivid inner world. There may even be hopelessness, if you love both fields but feel as if you have to pick one to be excellent at.
The black-and-gray aspect of it all is depressing, but I’ll knock off the pessimism and put the possibility of a middle ground on the table.
Let’s consider childhood, a time where I think both sides are sorted out equally. Children have less qualms about perfectionism or other complexes that relate to how they are perceived (especially in a social context). There’s also the fact that we build up their self-esteem. Of course, their schoolwork is easier, so there’s no worrying about academic approval. I want to point out: Children are amazing at coloring and doing calculus on the same day. Assuming they grew up in a healthy environment, they worry less about balancing the two sides because they are often the same with them. They answer to both, engage with both in the same, simplistic way.
The adult world is much more polarized than that of children. Their academic and artistic sides do not demand as much or as different. There isn’t this acknowledgement for separation, worrying about whether their work is spot-on with expectations and deserving of praise. One way of achieving balance is incorporating both, like intersections.
For example, some classes may deduct points for using unengaging language or a dry style in essays.. Both traits associated with traditional academic writing. In the same breath, they will reward personal observations that call for the artistic side. On the other hand, realistic art pieces involving human anatomy may require the artist to look at academic resources to get it right. While both tasks lean onto one side, we can find a bit of wiggle room to use both. This lack of polarization spares us the dilemma of how to think or operate best for said task. It also makes up the building blocks of a middle ground.
And when the artist and academic are in coherence, beautiful things happen for our culture and society.
Did I fall into my own trap again? As I look back on this writing, part of me is thinking: “More personal at the beginning! That’s good!”. The other counters: “It sounds just like any other essay you’ve written.”. Perhaps you’re looking at your own creation that way, too. But paying attention to this duality is where it starts, for your own personal, creative, and professional life.
