COP Essay

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.