The Inspiration Geotag or “Why are we unable to find inspiration when we try to locate it?”
Sure, I could wait five minutes more, right? I was in no rush (actually I was), I had nothing better to do (I did) and it wasn’t like it would put me in a difficult position (it definitely would). I tapped my fingers on the table, looked at the window, took my phone, and scrolled a bit on the old Pinterest. Was it…? Did I hear…? No, false alarm. It was not her. I sighed, put my phone away and tried scribbling on my notebook.
Another five minutes went by but still no trace of the awaited guest. I started to wriggle in my chair, growing impatient and restless. I decided to take a few steps before anxiously coming back to my table: what if I missed her? But, as I waited there alone, alarming thoughts started to creep in: what if she won’t come? What if she left me for good? What would I do without her? She’ll be back, I comforted myself, she always does. But what if this time she won’t? Silence grew louder, it was an hour now. I suddenly jolted from my chair and left my desk, grabbed my keys, and slammed the door behind me. She had not come. Inspiration had not come, she wouldn’t come, she had failed me.
Inspiration is such a d*ck. It has to be said. I know we all praise it and live by it, but when inspiration is a no-show, what are you left with? Having to work on a creative project with no inspiration is like driving a car with no wheel. Sure, you can move, but where the hell are you going? I wouldn’t say that working without inspiration is like living without internet connection because I don’t want to be over dramatic, but that’s pretty close and we all know it. We’re all terrified about it happening.
I don’t recall how many times I’ve been asked about how to find inspiration. Of course, that’s the pressing problem we all want the formula for. Maybe my answer should have been a brutal, honest one: you won’t. You won’t find inspiration and you never will. Stop looking for it everywhere—in books, in pinterest, in museums, in nature walks, in your sleep, or under the sofa. Any active search for inspiration is doomed to fail because in reality, inspiration is the anti-Beetlejuice—say its name three times and it disappears.
Naturally, that’s not what I answer. I usually say what we all say: look into books, look into nature, look into museums and previous manifestations of it, look around you; inspiration is everywhere! Well, as long as you’re not actively searching for it, that is. Because the second you need it, the second you’re looking for it, inspiration left the building and you can organise a search party, but you’re not closer to finding it than common sense in current US politics.
And don’t get me wrong, of course I believe in all that; I believe inspiration is everywhere. The fact is, I’m surrounded by inspiration. I sometimes even feel overwhelmed by inspiration. Every shell I see on the beach, every discarded paper on the street, every fabric sample, every color in pictures—they all call my name and ask to be turned into a project somehow. I try to note all their prayers on countless notebooks, I put them in storage boxes and give them the same half-empty promise of making them into a project, one day, soon. But that’s because finding inspiration and being inspired are two very different things. It’s easy to be inspired in a world filled to the brim with beauty and oddities. Open your eyes wide enough and everything sparkles back at you. But to me, that’s a very passive process. Inspiration strikes, it does the hard work, while you take the blow, inert recipient. Everything changes the minute you try to take a more active part in this role-play. When you’re in the hunt for inspiration, especially in the urgent need of some because of a work project—nature, art, history—they all show you their empty pockets.
There’s something of a cruel irony at play to observe that inspiration is something that takes you by surprise, when you look the other way, that little spark of light you can see with the corner of your eye, but disappears when you try to look at it straight. I sometimes feel I’m not even around when I have great ideas. It’s like I’ve left the room for a minute to attend to something else and when I’m back, I found a sticky note on my brain urging me to do this or that. I don’t know where it comes from, it’s just there now. I guess that’s what you call inspiration and how it works—an outsider, an exterior gush of wind that entered you because you left an unattended window open. It’s a happy surprise of course, but it makes you ponder if your inspired ideas are never truly yours. Creativity is a weird thing. Everybody praises you for it but if you’re never really the one in control to begin with, is it really empowering?
After hours of failing to find inspiration when I needed it the most, I came to realise this common good becomes a rare currency when in demand; that’s why you should stockpile it. Inspiration is the one thing you should always hoard. I don’t count the number of Pinterest pins or tagged visuals on Instagram (actually, I counted and my Pinterest account currently holds 14,609 pins), the number of books or weird records stacked on my shelves as well as random objects that sparked joy in me at the time. And of course, hoarding like this, there’s no way I could find anything when needed in this bizarre gigantic library of curiosities; but remember, that’s the whole point. If finding inspiration is jinxed, you need to stumble upon it. Recreating by yourself the inspiring chaos of life seemed to me the best way to trip and fall on creativity on purpose, like you would when you’re not looking.
I’ve finished my long walk outside now. As I slide my key into the lock, I can feel my heart pound in my chest. Would this annoying roommate that is inspiration, always leaving stuff all over the place to hide them away when I look for them, have discarded some precious little nothing, tucked between the pages of a book for me to uncover? Let’s find out.
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Datacitron (aka Julie Brunet) is an independent data & information designer as well as the Creative Director of Nightingale, the journal of Datavisualization Society. She believes in the accessibility of information through design and storytelling, and the virtuous role data designers can play in our society
