Liberty and Limits

Architect Frank Lloyd Wright repeatedly advised his students, "Limits are an artist's best friend." So writes Roger van Oech in his book on creativity, Expect the Unexpected or You Won't Find It.


The William Wordsworth sonnet "Nuns Fret Not at Their Convent's Narrow Room" conveys the same idea:

Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room;
And hermits are contented with their cells;
And students with their pensive citadels;
Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom,
Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom,
High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells,
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells:

In truth the prison, unto which we doom
Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground;
Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be)
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,
Should find brief solace there, as I have found.



Is it a surprise that artists and thinkers about creativity should salute the value of limits? Often, we observe creative people throwing off limits, reserving the right to behave however they wish, accepting no refusal from the heavens. Walt Whitman's manifesto Song of Myself announces the liberties he was prepared to take: "I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world."

Limits would seem to be anathema to creativity. But if we choose a limit, what kind of limit is it? "The prison unto which we doom ourselves," observed Wordsworth, "no prison is." This reflection adumbrates the conclusion of French author and philosopher Albert Camus, who described the everlasting punishment of Sisyphus, to push a boulder up a mountain, only to have it roll down to the bottom, requiring him to push it up again. The freedom of Sisyphus, suggested Camus, confronted with what the author considered the absurdity of life, lies in his decision whether to struggle against his fate or to embrace it. The contemporary advice "Never let 'em see you sweat" is another way of expressing this point of view. Some individuals undergoing tremendous strain or challenge respond to the routine greeting "How's it going" by responding, "Can't complain." Or, in the words of Whitman, again from Song of Myself, "I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious, Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy . . ."

There is a strength that we can find in the depth of our being when we refuse to complain; accept apparent limitation through our ability to see the beauty in it; and encourage other people by testifying to the splendor of life. Limits are the artist's best friend because they challenge him/her to mine hitherto unknown reaches of inspiration, ingenuity, and creativity.

It takes courage to be happy, a friend once told me. How did she figure that out so early in life? Maybe she was finding the freedom within her limitations.