#i feel perpetually uncreative as a creative person | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

almacambiondaughterofsaleos · 4 months

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in regards to wr1teanon's take on lucifer "he does honestly and truly love Charlie and Lillith, and he is fully capable of forming emotional attachments to others, it's just that he hates and resents his immediate social circle and Hell is populated by the dregs of a category of being he fundamentally abhors, so the opportunity to do so is rare.

Lucifer's problem stems from the fact that deep down he still loves God and his brothers, the Archangels, and dearly wishes for things to be how they were, he just can't admit to himself or anyone else that he was wrong in rebelling. Part of that is pride, sure, but that pride stems from the fact that he believes that God made him perfect, so any flaw in him would be God's mistake, and that dog don't hunt. This, tied to the regret and guilt he feels deep down, over the eons expresses as him hating almost everything around him because, due to maladaptive coping strategies, he blames mortals and his fellow Fallen for the rebellion and how it turned out, respectively.

(though wr1teanon planning to allow lucifer have soft moments with his wife and daughter taking some pieces from his canon interpretation though instead of depressed he is more aloof)

all of the goetia and deadly sins ( except maybe satan since I

used to be angels and after they fell they became demons lucifer resisted this due to his power which is why he keeps his angelic power and why michael had to personally throw him down

(though the demonic royalty still can alter the shape of the angelic weaponry

and each angel had a concept that they were focused on

Lucifer would be Pride, of course, as a bit of Pride is necessary for self-worth

Satan would be Reciprocity, perverted into Wrath

Leviathan would be Worth

Belphegor would be Contentment

Bee would be Need

Mammon would be Industry

and Ozzie, , was Connection.

most of the angels that Fell were all to be charged with matters more closely concerning mortals and their day-to-day and interpersonal lives, hence why the Sins and therefore their concepts are so closely tied with earthly matters

also hell used to be the typical old testament eternal suffering but lucifer changed that

"The way I see it, Hell has evolved somewhat since its conception. There may have been an 'old testament' Hell at some point when the hurt was fresh and Lucifer and his cronies were feeling particularly spiteful, but Lucifer's since settled into the 'Hell is humanity' paradigm which, incidentally, is far more hands off and less labor intensive for him and the ruling class.

Constantly keeping billions of souls in perpetual agony is not only hard work, but it loses its novelty after a few millennia. For Lucifer, it's much more interesting and satisfying on a personal level to see what horrid things Dad's favorite kids get up to when permitted to. Angels are, after all, will-less and inherently uncreative, a fact that was not changed by their Fall. Mortals, on the other hand, have an endless capacity for creativity and cruelty. Lucy wants a 'pigs in shit' style Hell that hammers home how wanton and vile Mortals truly are."

Sounds better than canon.

#helluva boss #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critical #vivziepop criticism #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop #anti-vivziepop #helluva boss critique #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical

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natpeabct · 5 years

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i’m not creative

How ineffective “creative” pedagogy can lead to self doubt

My first Creative Technologies (CT) experience occurred before I even enrolled. I had a lot hinged on this course. My options were to drop everything and move up from Dunedin, or to continue rolling pizza dough full time. However, my arms were getting tired.

Open day seemed necessary. I had to be certain moving to Auckland would be worth it, and CT was not a traditional course. Trying to explain it to family and friends only made me realise how little I understood. The vague CT presentation didn’t silence my screaming doubts and burning questions, instead left me feeling inadequate and anxious. My confidence sunk even further when a list of CT traits was displayed. Contrastingly, my parents felt reassured as they believed that I fitted this archetype. Given the nature of CT, it makes sense that the presentation was ambiguous. To be otherwise would contradict the essence of creativity and CT. My feelings after the presentation were perpetuated by the single insistent thought of “I’m not creative”.

New Zealand filmmaker and artist Taika Waititi defines creativity as “having fun, looking at life through the lens of a child” (Ted X Talks, 2010). Prior to CT I felt as though creativity was binary, you either had it or not. When I thought of creative people, I thought of my free spirited, accomplished artistic friends. I had constructed a stereotype that creative people looked a certain way and produced unique creations, ignoring that creativity is a way of thinking without restriction, and child-like curious exploration. So why was it I felt this way? What influences have made me feel uncreative?

Personally, I believe it was a traditional education system that didn’t foster curiosity and student directed self-discovery. Harris (2016) affirms that learning and teaching practices are responsible for fuelling creativity and the networks that support it (as cited in De Bruin & Harris, 2017). My primary school experience consisted mainly of a transmissional approach to teaching which I found disengaging. For example, we were still being read to in Year 5, while we were capable of exploring our own interests and literary worlds. This is particularly dangerous considering the important formative stages of Year 5. Disinterest for reading may arise if the chosen text doesn’t resonate with them and agency over their reading is not fostered. How can primary school facilitate creativity while still adhering to National Standards? I believe that all primary teachers should encourage curiosity by treating every question, suggestion, answer and comment as valuable. When posed with outlandish questions, “I’m not sure, good thinking” should be replaced with “I’m not sure, let's find out”. Students feel valued when the teacher is humble and willing to learn alongside them, while autocracy is detrimental to a child's creativity (Lin, 2011).

The church was another major authoritative influence in my childhood. An unattributed proverb states, “the fish will be the last to discover water”, meaning when constantly immersed in something, they will know no difference. Church, for me, was a place full of doubt. Ultimate biblical statements were indoctrinated through light-hearted innocent media such as the animated talking Tomato called Bob. The lack of research suggests that we ignore the danger in teaching such existential topics to children in such a mollified way. However, Ennew (2006) says “spiritual-abuse” can subtly occur when adults “devalue children’s appreciation of awe, wonder, and imagination; making faith strictly cerebral” (as cited in Segura-April, 2016). This reflects my feelings as a child at church. There was little room to be curious as the sacred Bible had all the definite answers. How and when certain topics are introduced need to be examined, to avoid raising generations of doubtful children. I believe that when dealing with significant topics such as creation, afterlife and punishment of sins, children should be intellectually capable of having critical discussion. Adults must be willing to converse with curious doubtful children, and share the historical context that the Bible was written in and the inherent “Mystery of Faith”. Being definitive about such topics leads to indoctrination, which consequently extinguishes creativity.

As I developed a more critical mindset, school and church became less daunting. I met certain teachers who had the humility to foster my curiosity - most notably an old, strict chemistry teacher from New York. This teacher, as old-school and blunt as he was, would answer every question with equal attention. On the occasions where the answers were uncertain or non-existent, he would make the effort to research and learn about the topic alongside students. Not only did this facilitate students curiosity, but it also humanised the teacher. He effectively enabled his students and allowed us to learn from each other, authority was exercised in a manner of mutual respect, and humility. This was effective teaching because my teacher sort wisdom from his students and was aware of his own uncertainties. Students are enabled in classroom environments where questions are encouraged, they will have freedom to explore and deepening their understanding of the curriculum. However, it is important for teachers not to view thoughtful questions, challenging or clarifications personally (Waks, 2018). If we continue to measure the performance of schools and teachers on pass rates, then teachers will solely focus on the curriculum. This creates a culture where all learning must be “by the book”. A teacher saying “don’t worry, it’s not in the exam” exemplifies the pressures put on teachers by senior management to produce strong pass rates. High school teaches us so much about so little; only the teachers and students who see through the artificial curriculum will learn anything. High school and primary school are regulated by NCEA and National Standards respectively, which incentivises teachers to only teach what is required, leading to avoidance of divergent topics and treating areas of interest as nonsense. This diminishes creativity in both teachers and students.

CT is an industry focused environment where diversity is celebrated through different disciplines, thinking and people. I felt petrified at open day because of how foreign CT was. It is a student-directed, passionate and democratic pedagogy I had encountered only few times throughout my education. The freedom of CT became apparent at the presentation. It both excited and scared me. My preconceived idea of University consisted of lecture halls, academic journals and competitiveness, however CT is an open studio, conversation and collaboration. Learning in a studio compared to a lecture hall is evident of the pedagogy present. Shulman (2005) compares the different “nurseries” of learning. He states that we can learn about professions through studying their places of training and development. Notably, a lecture theatre has a lecturer behind a desk at the front, while a studio has groups of students working around tables with an instructor circulating among them. They are representative of autocratic and democratic atmospheres. Both have a figurehead but one talks while the other talks then observes/listens. Through a democratic approach to teaching CT, in a studio format with a focus on experimentation and collaboration, learning is organic. We are given the freedom to discover with and from each other, as teachers and students. The culture of CT supports students through teachers who recognise the fluidity of creativity. Students are encouraged to be resourceful, adaptable and diverse in thinking and skills. After two months in CT, I feel comfortable with the freedom and learning processes. Making frequent mistakes is seen as a valuable lesson rather than failure, this spurs me on to try and try again, a valuable and natural way to learn.

Open day was a glimpse into a teaching method that confused me. I was challenged on how I perceived university and creativity. The subsequent feeling of inadequacy was built on outdated pedagogy which didn’t allow for collaborative exchanges or self-discovery. Famous creatives are often viewed as outcasts and rebels, perhaps because societal pressures and education systems are too rigid and funnel people towards certain outcomes rather than supporting their own curiosity and interests. Several contributing factors are responsible for this channeling - the stereotype of creativity only being practiced in fine artists, indoctrinating establishments such as the Church and the inflexible education system which limits our educators. “I’m not creative” is a self-fulfilling-prophecy (von Oech, 1973). As the poster in my father’s classroom room states, “if you think you can, or you think you can’t, you are right”.

References:

De Bruin, L., & Harris, A. M. (2017). Developing Creative Ecologies in Schools: Assessing creativity in schools. Australian Art Education, 38(2), 244–260. Retrieved from http://search.ebscohost.com.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/login.aspx?direct=true&db=aft&AN=128027487&site=eds-live

Jeffrey, B., & Craft, A. (2004). Teaching creatively and teaching for creativity: Distinctions and relationships. Educational Studies, 30(1), 77-87. doi:10.1080/0305569032000159750

Lin, Y. (2011). Fostering Creativity through Education—A Conceptual Framework of Creative Pedagogy. Creative Education, 2(3), 151. doi: 10.4236/ce.2011.23021

Segura-April, D. (2016). Appropriate Child Participation and the Risks of Spiritual Abuse. Transformation, 33(3), 171. Retrieved from http://search.ebscohost.com.ezproxy.aut.ac.nz/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edb&AN=115728074&site=eds-live

Shulman, L. S. (2005). Signature pedagogies in the professions. Daedalus, 134(3), 52-59. Retrieved from https://www.jstor.org/stable/20027998?seq=1#metadata_info_tab_contents

Ted X Talks. (2010, November 04). The Art of Creativity | Taika Waititi | TEDx Doha [Video file]. Retrieved from https://youtu.be/pL71KhNmnls

Von Oech, R. (1973). A Whack On the Side of the Head: How You Can Be More Creative. California, USA: Creative Think.

Waks, L. J. (2018). Humility in Teaching. Educ Theory, 68(4/5), 427-442. doi: 10.1111/edth.12327

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tinymixtapes · 7 years

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Music Review: Future Islands - The Far Field

Future Islands The Far Field [4AD; 2017] Rating: 4/5 “Instead of sharpening punk and post-punk’s cutting edge, these bands blunted it; rather than provoke, oppose, and negate mainstream pop tastes, they seem to have reworked their sounds to accommodate these norms. And they accommodated them quite well — these were all charting, and often chart-topping, singles. If anything, their sound had become excessively normal.” – Robin James, “Neoliberal Noise: Attali, Foucault, & the Biopolitics of Uncool” “When a rock ‘n’ roll group attains success, there is typically a fascination with its origins. “How did such a phenomenon come to pass?” everyone asks, simply because making a group is so difficult, and finding persons with the correct creative chemistry and sense of mutual commitment so unusual. The origin stories of rock & roll groups have therefore taken their place alongside the historical and religious myths of time immemorial.” - Ian F. Svenonius, Supernatural Strategies for Making a Rock ‘n’ Roll Group My introduction to Future Islands was like that of many. One way or another, I found the clip of Samuel T. Herring crooning, howling, and growling for Letterman and his audience. It’s one thing to do all the moving that a seated mid-day studio audience lacks, but it’s another to gesticulate to the heavens and hope the divinity transcends the TV set. Here, watch it again: It’s a gimmicky hook. It’s also stunning, near virtuosity, and bafflingly difficult to interpret. Herring carries a clumsy masculinity through his stoic on-stage drama, invoking Morrissey as Hamlet carrying Yorick’s skull. I remember — later that summer — watching Herring lock eyes with the missing skull of Yorick (which he’d just extracted from his throat, through his jaw, by way of representation, a trick of the body), sun setting behind the main stage of FYF Fest, situated on the black top parking lot of Los Angeles’s Olympic Park. Perhaps he was singing the descent of the then-recent “Fall From Grace”: “We slowly fade away/ We slowly fade away.” Herring presented an endless ricochetting epiphany. He seemed to be relentlessly surged and resurged by the washy, unsexy post-post-punk that sat below him. He was impressive. He was devoted. He was reaching new heights, and he was decidedly uncool. That was 2014 and, of course, this is now. The Far Field arrives with those several years compressed to a few unfazed blinks. Future Islands (not as a band, but as a piece of its with its own momentum and trajectory) doesn’t seem aware of a world outside of it. The Far Field is hardly a new chapter, just the dialogue beyond a scene break. With three years compressed to the tiny stars of a mid-page three-asterisk ellipsis, we start to feel that the entire act (the length of a band’s career) has already been written. With a slow fade back to consciousness, Future Islands release the breath they took in 2014 with Singles. “Aladdin” sounds like nothing out of the ordinary, introduces no new elements. The Far Field continues with very few ruptures of this blanket texture of uniformity. And such would be a clear element of critique if it weren’t exactly what generates critical interest for the band in the first place. Future Islands appear to value consistency and brand recognition far more than the production of singular punctuated moments (singles, hits, hooks, solos, drops). They have encircled their own style that appears either thoughtfully restrained or thoughtlessly constrained (by way of shallow influences and/or uncreative methodology). Their earlier output as well as Herring’s surprising fanaticism toward underground hip hop leads me to believe the former is at play. So Future Islands circumlocutes the sound and the structures at their essence without a flag-bearing essential hit to anchor the operation. Here, my mind travels to The Ramones who, of course, had many standout hits, but who never seemed to fully tire of the formula and chord progressions that produced them. Imagine a hypothetical Ramones song that has never been written but of which every other Ramones song is a representation. Or perhaps imagine the creative impulse that guided The Ramones to be like a good starter for sourdough bread, sometimes better nourished, sometimes more successfully rendered into bread but always the same at its center. The same can be applied to Nickelback, Morton Feldman, Kool Keith, Agnes Martin, Emily Dickinson, Napalm Death, Gertrude Stein, and the mid-to-late paintings of Monet. Many of which have certain well-renowned singular works but are artists who really can’t be understood without the context of their oeuvre. As such, nothing on The Far Field is remotely innovative or boundary pushing (in the broad scope of music at large as well as the narrow scope of Future Islands’ own narrative). It has its brief dissonances, odd features, and outliers (the strange dip in the chorus melody of “Beauty of the Road,” the background effects on “Cave,” the Cyndi Lauper bounce of “North Star,” the carefully detuned synth behind “Ancient Water,” and Debbie Harry’s feature on “Shadows”), but ultimately, it is safe and moralistic without suggestion otherwise. Even as a vessel for Herring’s performative antics (which really serve as the hook of it all), the whole presentation is relatively shockless and nonsubversive. The Far Field is carried by light catharsis, diffused and mild-tempered fun, virtuosic vocal delivery, and steel-clean production. The album’s largest fault is that it is generally unremarkable despite this adept musicianship and heartfelt approach. This fault, however, surrounds us daily as a Fordist argument for the convenience, consistency, and comfort of reliable product as we come to disregard whatever it is that that product lacks (Ford Motors, Starbucks, McDonald’s, IKEA, Vans, Coca-Cola), and that ultimately evolves to the hollow brand for which product is just about besides the point (Facebook, Buzzfeed, Medium, other less blatantly dubious web services as well as several of the brands already listed above). As such, Future Islands tastefully brush shoulders with the unsensational and guileless media available from a screen in Denny’s or at the gas pump. There is so much more to Future Islands that is worth dissection: Herring’s complex dramatic performance of a gyrational (anti-)masculinity, the politics of the publicly hard-working band, a thorough analysis of what really is going on behind all the on-stage gestural drama, and an evaluation of the act of selling out as it operates currently. While these avenues interest me, they are superfluous to any album Future Islands has produced. Much like how the quality and content of a new Frappuccino® flavor is never more essential to its release than the fact that it is new (thus perpetuating ad campaigns, novelty branding, and company growth), The Far Field potentiates further exploration for Future Islands as a performance group. Thus is the logical extreme of the classic record production cycle (e.g. release an album and tour in support of the album and repeat with singles and television appearances along the way) for the pragmatic post-industry artist. http://j.mp/2or5XJT

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