Be Creative or Be Complacent

“Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy.”
― Benjamin Franklin, Philosopher

You have a choice to face each day: make art or give into comfort and convenience.

There’s a great price to pay for making art. The necessity of discipline, the often times painful sacrifices, the immeasureable patience before seeing results (of any kind), the enduring of self-doubt, the risk of financial insecurity, the withstanding of judgement and rejection, the loneliness, the sufferance of failure (which is common for any creative), and last but not least, the insurmountable amount of time and effort required to become a true and dedicated artist. Almost everything tests the resolve and courage of an artist’s well-being; he must perservere and persist through so much just to live authentically and to make something worthwhile, a small contribution to this world before his time is up.

Now, isn’t it just so much easier — and more rational — to take the pre-approved path for what’s sold as freedom and happiness? All you have to do is give in to the authority of the system, to the authority of tradition, to the authority of institutions whose continuous propaganda surrounds us. (The latest data shows that the average city dweller is exposed to between 4000 to 10,000 advertisements daily). Yet the price for giving in to complacency is much higher than we realize. This part of the package is rarely told to us. But what is complacency? Well, it’s choosing the slippery path that’s always easier to take. Call it entropy or laziness or call it the lack of love or cynical indifference — Dante called it sloth, one of the Seven Deadly Sins — but whatever name you give it, it’s always there luring you towards the path of least effort.

The Fifth Purgatory: Wrath, Sloth, and Avarice (Greed). From Dante’s Inferno. (notice how Sloth is accompanied here in Hell by Greed and Wrath, do they lead to one another?)

The Cost of Complacency:

Conformity – first off, you become a follower. You are a copier, not a creator. You don’t lead either yourself or others. You’ve become the ultimate definition of a herd animal, easily guided and swayed towards particular types of action. In a world of powerful self-interest and propaganda, you’re sheep for slaughter, designated to serve the system by those who designed the system. And now, living more and more interactively with technology, man risks becoming no longer the artibiter/designer of his actions but a conduit of the machine. Medical studies in 2025 show that two-thirds of the time man is on autopilot, driven by habit with minimal forethought. So everyday’s thoughts are the same, everything you do is the same, you are the same. Each day is but a mere replica of the previous day.

“We live in a world of replicas, and I try desperately in a world of replicas to produce things that are not replicas of anything.” — Carl Andre, Sculptor

Stupidity – you get dumber. This sounds cruel but it’s true. Use it or lose it; that’s a fundamental law of this universe. The more you give in to comfort and convenience, the more dependent you are on outsourcing your thinking and the less able your mind becomes. The lastest studies are already showing that people born after 1980 — whose most formative years coincided with the widespread adaptation of digital technology — are demonstrating an unprecedented drop in intelligence (by 7 points per generation). Consider how frightening that is, given the average IQ was only 100 points before 1975. Digital technology (namely, the advance of algorithms and now A.I.) encourages automation so it saves thinking time but destroys thinking ability. Life, and the way of doing things, becomes not only more automated but hurried, neglective and amoral. Like art, love and goodness requires time, attention and thoughtfullness.

“The most violent element in society is ignorance.” — Emma Goldman, Writer

Weakness – you lose strength. Not just of mind but of will. When you’re always choosing what’s fast and easy, you become more impatient and unaccepting of reality or truth. The unknown and the uncomfortable disturb you. You lose the ability to tolerate difficulty, including when it surfaces in relationships. You barely try and when you do, you give up easily. You soon dread hard work or things that take time. Things you don’t understand you deem stupid, while things that make you wait are boring. You get anxious and frustrated more easily. You turn to shortcuts and easy solutions which further compounds your mounting incompetence. You’re no longer self-reliant and struggle with silence. You begin to lack the courage or will to do anything challenging.

“Weakness of attitude becomes weakness of character.” — Albert Einstein, Scientist

Fear – privileged people always fear losing their advantage. Incompetent people know their privilege is short-lived. It’s like deep inside they know they’re not so capable. Instead of building skill, which takes time, they’ll choose to alter perceptions and create falsehoods to justify their actions because fear always generates stress and urgency thus amplifying their insecurity. It may seem oxymoronic but those who get used to the privilege of comfort and convenience become extremely neurotic and panicky when things don’t go their way. Like the bully who’s actually deeply afraid inside, the slothful are often demandingly obsessed with urgency. They often become greedy, critical, defensive, irritable and angry.

“The anxious life… is a series of embedded urgencies.” — Mark Fisher

Closed thinking – a complacent mind never thinks outside of the box. As modern man has become more externally focused he depends more on outside things; his sustenance, his pleasures, his security, and his escapes are all external. What appears as an array of choice in a commoditized society is merely a buffet of limited options. It’s all illusion. Where as the creative person exercises resourcefulness (an internal action), the slothful man seeks resources (an external approach). He inherently prefers standard solutions over extending the effort to innovate new ones. Thus, he will always choose efficiency over effectiveness and the familiar over the unusual. He thinks in terms of gains and losses while the process, the journey, means little to nothing to him. In fact, in his eyes, everything either good or bad comes from the outside. There is no accountibility. He knows no such thing as humility or penitence. Locked into his beliefs, he’s confident he’s right while being unknowingly asleep.

“He who looks outside dreams, he who looks inside awakens.” — Carl Jung, Psychologist

Vacuity – a life of convenience and continuous comfort always carries that feeling of emptiness. Without the expenditure of effort and the test of time, the mind will ultimately struggle to find real value. We all have experienced that it feels much better to build something versus when we merely buy it. Pleasure and joy are not the same thing. Commitment of time and energy is directly proportional to meaning and genuine satisfaction. The slothful mind can’t see that or won’t. He’d rather sit there and complain about his woes. And to fill that hole in his heart, he can look towards the multitude of addictive and pain-relieving substances or activities offered to him. Distraction and escape become the perpetual patching and repatching of a wound that only gets deeper and harder to repair. Meaningfulness alludes him.

“I am interested in art as a means of living a life; not as a means of making a living.”
― Robert Henri, Artist

Enslavement – the complacent man is perpetually trapped. When he becomes accustomed to the fast and easy way, he doesn’t realize he’s inside an echo chamber that reinforces his thoughts and behaviours so he becomes ever more reactive rather than contemplative. Dependent always on the external, he has taken away all agency over his own attention, action and attitude, the very things he actually has at his disposal. Now with the arrival of A.I. he will be coerced more and become more accustomed to utitilizing artificial digital imagery, outsource thinking to and communicate with artificial entities, confusing them all with what’s real. Without risking effort, he risks instead complete psychological imprisonment. The drive towards optimization is modern man’s search for the holy grail. Effort is a dominion of man’s imprint on this universe, without such arduous exertion he is but a spectator-passenger and not a participant. He may be breathing but he’s rarely present and thus, hardly free.

“(Artistic freedom) is a difficult kind of freedom that seems more like an ascetic discipline…such freedom assumes a healthy mind and body, a style that would reveal a strength of the soul and patient defiance. Like all freedom, it is a never-ending risk, a grueling experience, and that is why today we flee from such risk, just as we flee from freedom, which demands so much of us, and instead rush headlong into all kinds of enslavement, to at least obtain some comfort in our souls.” — Albert Camus, Writer

Do We Still Need Artists?

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us — if at all — not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

— T.S. Elliot, The Hollow Men (part 1 only)

In thinking of our times, these words from T.S. Elliot’s poem seem to resonate. When so many are suffering — poor societies stricken with tragedy, war and famine, rich ones paralyzed by perpetual anxiety and narcissistic exceptionalism — it is hard to just think about art, never mind expend the extensive time and energy to make it. When the world feels so barren of love, meaning, justice and compassion, its expressions reflect the emptiness. Today, the most dominant artistic forms such as film, contemporary art, writing and music seem little more than exercises in technique, stuck in pastiche and superficiality, a repeat of similar stories poorly retold with new materials. We are drowned paradoxically by the constant preoccupation with capital (survival) and the need for connection (meaning). No wonder making art seems like an act of compromised futility. Deep in our subconconcious, a terrible sense of hopelessness reigns.

But then, just as the night feels the darkest, I remember that it is precisely during such times that we need art the most. I remember that the artist is a bearer of light. A self-selected member of society, the artist deals with challenges that are pertinant; he sees beforehand, seemingly clairvoyant in the midst of cultural and social chaos. Now, rather than elaborate on this dilemma any further with my own clumsy words, I relay you to the words of a better spoken individual, former U.S. president John. F. Kennedy from his 1963 address to the graduates of Amherst College:

JFK at Amherst College in 1963.

Strength takes many forms, and the most obvious forms are not always the most significant. The men who create power make an indispensable contribution to the Nation’s greatness, but the men who question power make a contribution just as indispensable, especially when that questioning is disinterested, for they determine whether we use power or power uses us. […]

Robert Frost coupled poetry and power, for he saw poetry as the means of saving power from itself. When power leads men towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the areas of man’s concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses. For art establishes the basic human truth which must serve as the touchstone of our judgment.

The artist, however faithful to his personal vision of reality, becomes the last champion of the individual mind and sensibility against an intrusive society and an officious state… In pursuing his perceptions of reality, he must often sail against the currents of his time. This is not a popular role.

If sometimes our great artists have been the most critical of our society, it is because their sensitivity and their concern for justice, which must motivate any true artist, makes him aware that our Nation falls short of its highest potential. I see little of more importance to the future of our country and our civilization than full recognition of the place of the artist.

If art is to nourish the roots of our culture, society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him. We must never forget that art is not a form of propaganda; it is a form of truth… In free society art is not a weapon and it does not belong to the spheres of polemic and ideology. Artists are not engineers of the soul. It may be different elsewhere. But democratic society — in it, the highest duty of the writer, the composer, the artist is to remain true to himself and to let the chips fall where they may. In serving his vision of the truth, the artist best serves his nation. And the nation which disdains the mission of art invites the fate of Robert Frost’s hired man, the fate of having “nothing to look backward to with pride, and nothing to look forward to with hope.”

John. F. Kennedy