A Creative Bar-Fight with my Past Self

“I’m confident I would kick my butt.”

Abstract: the Art of Design is a Netflix documentary series chronicling the work lives of legendary designers.

For creatives, Abstract is work-porn that will inspire you to sit your ass in that chair and make something.

The first episode features Christoph Niemann, cover artist for The New Yorker.

He re-tells his creative journey with a range of media — including Legos — and uses symbols and drawings to explain abstract concepts like abstraction itself.

Niemann also gets into the worry and doubt that can wreak havoc in a maker’s life. He has a funny litmus test to gauge how his work is going.

I sometimes imagine what would happen if I had to face the 2006 version of myself in some sort of creative version of a bar fight. Maybe I’ve lost some of my creative spark, but I’m confident I would kick my butt.

This is an interesting way to think about where you are on your own creative path. Niemann is renowned and established, so his concern is holding on to his youthful “creative spark.”

For a newer artist, the bar-fight heuristic could mean something completely different:

“Have I gained some maturity, patience, and perspective?”

“Do I have a more open attitude toward learning and less fear of failure?”

“Do I have more tools and mastery of the craft at my disposal?”

I put myself in this scenario. Here’s how I think that bar-fight would go between Me vs. Me circa 2011:

First of all, the fight probably started because 2011 Me was being a pompous loudmouth like that guy with the ponytail from Good Will Hunting.

Me having once been that guy, would be eager to put Me in my place.

2011 Me was much more sure of himself and had more faith in the power of fiction. This was by no means an asset however. My self assurance was arrogant and untested. My belief in fiction was really just laziness in disguise: I thought the written word contained some innate magic that exempted me from doing my part in the storytelling department. I was so impressed with fiction and so impressed with myself for writing it, I never saw any need to engage or entertain the reader. I thought being “literary” meant being intentionally boring.

It’s more than likely that if this literary bar-fight went down, 2011 Me wouldn’t even bother to write anything to compete with Me. Old Me would just wave a copy of the zine I had been published in my sophomore year and proclaim that I was too good for such a contest.

I don’t think it’s unusual for a creative to hate his old self and his old work. But it would be a mistake to lose the awareness that some future me will be looking back on 2017 Me too.

The best way to make him proud is to do the best I can today.

Image: The New Yorker