Searching for Solitude: Creativity & the
Art of Introversion
In 1947, the Finnish artist and author Tove
Jansson wrote in a letter to her friend, Eva Konikoff, that she was “building a
house to protect (her) solitude”. At the time of writing the letter, Jansson
was living alone in a tent, on a tiny island just off of the Finnish coast; she
was writing Finn Family Moomintroll,
overseeing the building of a personal haven, where she hoped to able to live
and work peacefully, away from prying eyes, and, ultimately, reconnecting with
herself and with the world around her. Jansson’s profile was steadily building
momentum, and she was finding it difficult to cope with the ever-increasing
public demand for her. As she further explained to Eva, the island offered her
“endless peace and a certain desolation”, noting that “you become different and
think new thoughts when you live a long time alone with the sea and yourself”. Jansson’s
celebrity would reach dizzying heights during the 1950’s and 60’s, and she
would go on to become the best-selling (and arguably, the most famous) Finnish
author of all time, yet she would leave clues strewn throughout her immense output,
from her vivid descriptions of the beautiful and otherworldly Moominvalley in
her Moomins series, to her lifelong
obsession with self-portraiture, that she was, in essence, a true introvert,
profoundly connected with the natural world, with a remarkable capacity for
introspection and continual self-discovery, and never happier, nor more
creative, than when in quiet solitude. Tove Jansson cannot be alone in this,
however. There is an interesting and thought-provoking argument, supported by a
large and varied body of research and theory to suggest that highly creative
individuals, certainly creatives or ‘artists’ in the traditional sense, but
also scientists, writers, engineers, musicians, architects and mathematicians, may be likely to identify as introverted
personality-types. This essay aims to investigate exist the reason for, and the
parameters of, this correlation, as well as to examine and champion the role
still available for introverts to play in today’s increasingly noisy,
hyper-connected and extrovert-centric world.
The
terms may now feature readily in common parlance, but when the renowned
psychologist Carl Jung first established his model of Extraverted and
Introverted personalities in his Psychological
Types (1921), he was opening Pandora’s Box, and laying the foundations upon
which a plethora of psychologists would later build their own theories of
personality. But what exactly do these terms mean? What makes an extravert
extraverted, an introvert introverted, and what about those who are somewhere
in between? Memories, Dreams, Reflections
saw Jung define extraversion as an “attitude-type characterised by
concentration of interest on the external object” (meaning the outside world),
and introversion as an “attitude-type characterised by orientation in life
through subjective psychic contents” (Jung, 1963) (a focus on one’s own mind
and inner-workings), and thus concerning the terms solely with the self, rather
than with interpersonal relations.
Today, extraverts are generally accepted as individuals who thrive off
of external stimuli, such as highly social situations, and find solitude and
introspection physically and emotionally draining, and introverts as those more
prone to finding such situations tiring, being most likely to succeed in
situations that call for independent thought and introspection. In layman’s terms, extraverts refuel their
batteries by being around others, and introverts by being alone, or in small,
intimate groups. This subtle shift in semantics is due to extraversion and
introversion now being widely regarded as a fluid continuum, and thus for an
individual to place highly on one at any given time, they must be low on the
other, despite this differing from Jung’s original definition of the
extravert/introvert framework, which was far more rigid. At the time Jung was
writing, much of the Western world was undergoing a cultural metamorphosis.
This transformation was referred to by the cultural historian Warren Susman as
one from “a culture of character” to one of “personality” (Susman, 1984). The culture
of character saw the ideal self as being the very essence of integrity and
honour, with reservation being the hallmark of respectability. Fast forward to
the genesis of the culture of personality, and all the values and ideals of
yesteryear are seemingly instantaneously discredited. Being seen and being
heard were suddenly of upmost importance – what was being said was no longer
what mattered, rather how loudly it was being said. The extroverts had arrived.
While the dawning of this new, bombastic age did not mean that introverts
ceased to exist, it did mean that they became somewhat lost amid the mass army
of ‘big-personalities’. It is interesting to speculate as to how introverts
have kept their place in a society that so reveres extroverts, and one must
question how this has been achieved. Is it perhaps possible that creativity has
served as the introvert’s antidote to extraversion?
If one is to assume that there is, in fact, an intimate link between
creativity and introversion, one must begin to question exactly why such a link
exists. In keeping with the premise that introverts draw energy from time spent
in solitude, George Prochnik, author of In
Pursuit of Silence: Listening for Meaning in a World of Noise suggests that
it is only “when we confront silence” that “the mind reaches outward”
(Prochnik, 2010). Prochnik’s own investigation into the merit of silence may
not have been specifically concerned with introversion, but it is easy to draw
a direct comparison between his suggestion and the introvert’s natural longing
for solitude as a means of mental fuel; if Prochnik is to be assumed correct in
his suggestion, and if silence is to be assumed a catalyst for free thought and
creativity, then surely introverts, who
are generally regarded as being most at ease when alone, with opportunity for
introspection, and thus are for more likely to spend greater periods of time
alone than extroverted-types, simply have more opportunity to tap into their
creativity than their aforementioned counterparts. The introvert’s acceptance,
and embracing, of silence, can here be seen as a larger acceptance, and
embracing of creative thought itself. This willingness to welcome silence and
solitude may just be what Susan Cain, in her bestseller Quiet refers to as “some ineffable quality that fuels creativity”
(Cain, 2012). In a chapter entitled ‘When Collaboration Kills Creativity”, Cain
references a body of research conducted by the Institute of Personality
Assessment and Research at the University of California, Berkeley, on the
nature of creativity; this research involved the analysis of a group of
spectacularly creative individuals, all of whom had achieved highly within
their professional fields. A particularly interesting finding from this study
was that, after a process of interviewing, it was established that the vast
majority of this creative collective were “not of an especially sociable
participative temperament”, and that many self-identified as quiet and
solitary. This research, coming from an objective, academic body can be seen to
support the notion that introversion and creativity are, perhaps, two sides of
the same coin. Of course, this doesn’t mean that all introverts are creatives or, for that matter, that all creatives are introverts; one can
recall certain artists, such as Salvador Dali, that might traditionally be
branded as extroverts, with an innate flair for showmanship, but even these
characters must have spent long periods working alone. However, it does lend
validity to the idea of a definite relationship between creativity and
introversion.
Prochnik
has yet another idea as to why solitude, and by extension, introversion, is so
conducive to creativity; the idea being that “silence can exert a positive and
enriching influence on our individual lives and our relationship to the natural
world” (2010). Considering that the beauty of nature has served as an
infinitely rich source of inspiration for artists, along with poets and
philosophers, since time immemorial, it is well worth noting that the
introvert’s innate capacity for quiet and contemplation may allow them to
experience the natural world more intensely, with greater clarity of vision,
than those in constant pursuit of company, chatter and action. Once again, we
can return to Tove Jansson’s body of work to support this idea. Jansson’s Moomins series, revolving around the
exploits of Moomintroll and his family, along with a colourful and bizarre
ensemble of supporting characters, is set in the land of Moominvalley. Jansson
breathed life into her creation with lushly vivid descriptions, which are, at
once, evocative and powerfully succinct (Jansson, 1945):
It was completely quiet, and so dim between the trees that it was as
though twilight had
already fallen. Here are there giant flowers
grew, glowing with a peculiar light like flickering
lamps, and furthest in among the shadows
moved tiny dots of cold green.
Such descriptions may indeed be a testament to
the powers of Jansson’s imagination, but they are not without the essence of
observation. Moominvalley, along with its weird and wonderful inhabitants, is evidently
the brain child of an individual with her own profound relationship with the
natural world. These are not spontaneous descriptions, they are carefully
considered, and could come only from an author truly at one with the world
around her, and an observer of every nuance of nature (Jansson, 1948):
When they reached the top the March wind
gambolled around them, and the blue distance lay at
their feet. To the west was the sea; to
the east the river looped round the Lonely Mountains; to
the
north the great forest spread its green carpet, and to the south the smoke rose
from
Moomintroll's chimney
It is this attention to even the smallest
details, such as the specific motion of the wind, and the looping of river that
reveal the depth of Jansson’s relationship with the natural world;
these are not grand descriptions of spectacular natural phenomena or garish
sunsets. Instead, these are understandings and appreciations that arise only
from Jansson’s extensive personal experience of simply existing side-by-side
with nature, without the distractions of urban life, or the incessant company
of strangers, and of watching and experiencing the ongoing turn of the world
and the tides. The many years of her life spent dreaming of, and later, spent
living on a small and otherwise deserted island left an indelible stamp upon
her, both as an artist and as a human being. In her biography of Jansson, Tove Jansson: Life, Art, Words, Prof. Boel
Westin describes how life upon the island represented “adventure, renewal of
life and transformation, a place where one can create a world of one’s own” . Through
her life-long “dream of solitude” (Westin, 2014), Jansson discovered a
beautiful realm of imagination, completely her own, and undisturbed by
outsiders. This world became Moominvalley. Of course, not every creative
introvert has the resources or opportunities that Jansson did, and for most
escaping to an uninhabited island is not a feasible antidote for the
relentlessness of everyday, modern living. There is, however, some indication
that a quiet revolution is beginning to take hold and that perhaps the creative
introverts of today are finding new ways to celebrate and embrace the defining
characteristics of their introversion.
As Susman’s culture of personality evolved, so
did humankind’s relationship and endeavours with technology. In the last
hundred years, computers have gone from being industrial machines, the size of
a room, to a tiny, slim gadget that we carry around with us. Today we live utterly
and undeniably in the age of internet and an in the midst of digital evolution.
The accessibility of the World Wide Web, coupled with the boom of devices such
as smartphones and tablets, has created the definitive “global village”
(McLuhan, 1962), connecting individuals and corporations from all across the
globe at the click of a button. There are many ongoing dialogues within society
about the many (including many negative) implications of this hyper-connectedness
upon our lives. While it is possible to argue that this connectedness works in
the favour of extraverts, due to the fact that now anyone can now project an
image of themselves onto a global platform, remain constantly within the
information loop and make their presence felt on a worldwide level, the purpose
of this essay is to champion the role of the creative introvert within both a
historical society and looking toward the future. This means looking for
possibilities and creative potential in the most dominant and governing aspects
of our lives, of which the internet is one. Social media and blogging platforms
such as Tumblr and Instagram provide today’s creatives with opportunities to
share their work with a wide audience, even if these individuals might not be
the types to self-publicize. Two of the most prolific and successful young
illustrators on the contemporary design scene, Lizzie Stewart and Gemma
Correll, both have highly successful web presences; both also self-identify as
introverts. Gemma Correll, recognized for her naïve and self-deprecatingly
humorous illustrations, has gathered a huge following for her work that shoes
the unapologetically introverted nature of her personality. Work like Correll’s
can be seen as reclaiming introversion in a creative way, owning it through
illustrating it. Lizzy Stewart, who describes herself as “cautious”, “shy” and
“introspective” (Stewart, 2012) found her own creative way to reach out to
fellow introverts. One of Stewart’s most interesting projects to date was her Solo endeavour, an illustrated diary of
her day to day life. The entries to this diary were frank and honest, emotional
and introspective. The project became a huge success, with Stewart going on to
print and publish collected zines of entries. The project was active and
ongoing continually for almost two years, and when Stewart posted on the Solo Tumblr site, to say that she was
finishing the project, she commented on how the project “was not something
(she) expected anyone to care about”, as well as noting how “touching and,
somewhat, bewildering” how many people had responded to it in such an emotional
and heartfelt way. This is very
interesting for a number of reasons: Firstly, it portrays the introvert
responding to something incredibly personal, that without the platform of the
internet, they may never have had the opportunity to share with the public.
Secondly, does this project show the modern-day creative introvert using the
internet as a personal haven, a place to think and work freely, with no
anticipation of feedback from the outside world, in the same way that Tove
Jansson used her island as a personal haven? It may be easy to get lost and
overwhelmed in the mammoth connection of the internet, but does this vastness
actually make it appealing to introverts? Is the internet in this format,
self-run blog, becoming the diary, or sketchbook, for the next generation of
creatives, offering a safe space for free thought and solitary contemplation?
Perhaps there is a positive element to this new hyper-digital reality that we
now inhabit, an element that, instead of further drowning out introverts,
provides them with a new platform to direct their creative energies toward, and
perhaps, in the age of global connection, introversion is slowly becoming more
about quiet camaraderie that the desperate search for solitude.
The relationship between creativity and
introversion is a fascinating and thought provoking area of study, which, while
not being dictated by statistics, facts and figures, poses some very
interesting questions about the human condition and the very nature of
creativity itself. A variety of both historical and contemporary examples of
introverted creatives, as well a wealth of psychological theory and study
connotes that there is a definite
link between these two, even if, like everything else in the modern world, the
nature of this connection is constantly evolving and finding new ways to
present itself. Those with extroverted personalities, creative or otherwise,
will always, by definition, be more visible than those who are introverted.
However, the slow accumulation of cultural hints, such as the publication of
books like Quiet, and the rapid
growth of illustration, being a practise largely defined by web-based
visibility and narrative infusion, as an exciting, happening and well-respected
creative practise, may be beginning to show that, even in the lightening-paced
age of the internet, there is still a place for introverts to own as creative
powerhouses, albeit in their own, silent way.
* After a chat with Richard I now intend to make some slight revisions to the conclusion, and extend the Jung thread slightly more throughout.
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