The weary homeless hobo lets the final car pass him, and waddles across the road. His beard is weary, just like his clothes. The city he lives in is pretty grey, at least according to himself. The only place in town with colours, is the park, where he spends his days, thinking about beauty, its wonders and the rest of the world. His master degree in philosophy didn’t get him anywhere in terms of career. A few years after leaving the university, he found out that he wasn’t built for physical work, and chose the life he has now.
He sits down on one of the many benches around the park, looking at a nearby wall painting.
Man: Stationed the same place as always, friend. sits down next to the hobo.
Hobo: Hey dude, how’s it going? shaking hands.
Dude: Work as always, you know how the story goes. Aren’t you getting tired of the same bench? I’m sure it has a print of your ass soon! pointing with two flat hands, facing up.
Hobo: While the physical body remains, the mental mind journeys trough time and space, where no man has ever treaded. looking to the sky.
Dude: I’m guessing my stomach is as full as your brain right now, feed my brain and I’ll feed your stomach. What’s on the menu? stroking his stomach and head at the same time.
Hobo: Oh, you’re going to like this one. It’s a really interesting one. Leans forward.
Dude: Oh yea, come on, tell me. widening his eyes.
Hobo: with a bewildered look This one is such as mind-bogglingly strange, your mind may even have to turn off to even comprehend it.
Dude: Why are you waiting, my brain is making hungry-noises! waving his arms.
Hobo: Before I tell you, you may want to put some grass in your ears, pretending to stuff something in his ear turn a few rounds while shaking your head up and down shaking his head and singing the Czech national anthem. holding his hand out like an opera singer.
Dude: What? What would that help?! leaning backwards with confused eyes.
Hobo: Nothing, but it would illustrate what creativity can come up with. Leaning back and looking to the sky with a grin.
Dude: That came out of the blue. sinking down in his seat.
Hobo: So does creativity a lot. What is creativity and where does it come from? sinking down to equal level.
Dude: Wow… I’m going to sit on this one for a little while. shaking his head.
Woman: Appearing from their right Hey guys, how are you today?
Hobo: Not good. Looking straight at the woman with a worried face I witnessed two policemen being run down by a car, while they were chasing a thief stealing an old woman’s purse. The woman had her real purse in her walker though, while carrying an empty spare purse over her shoulder.
Woman: startled What?! Really?
Hobo: Not really, but it would have been a creative thing to do. turning his smug eyes away.
Woman: Oh, but dude, you’re obviously thinking hard on something. What did he serve you today? folding her arms.
Dude: glancing aimless in the space before the woman’s face What is creativity? Where does it come from?
Woman: Oh. I better sit down too. sits down while stroking her hair back.
Hobo: It struck me one day, artistic pause that creativity is very much random, and very often arises when we pumping his pointing finger forwards to add weight to his word DON’T think through so much. You just keep on conjuring things, and before you know it, you have something very creative. You know all those cliché stories of kids making up stories as they talk, and suddenly they are twisted into one big lie they have to maintain.
Dude: lightening up A very good point indeed. At the same time, it is possible to be creative when thinking very hard. I can remember one of my English exams back in high-school, gastrulating writing motions where I was supposed to be creative. I had a think very thoroughly before writing anything at all. lowering his voice, almost murmuring The story may not have been very creative in the end though.
Hobo: And I don’t think Bach, Da Vinci, or Shakespeare simply got a flick of a light bulb, and suddenly they made their greatest work in the very moment. I’m sure they used more than a few hours on their work. crossing his arms and legs.
Woman: I think creativity is sort of like having a floor covered in coloured threads. stroking her hand over the flat air in front of her, hand faced down The artist sees the threads, and picks them up and put them together in a way he hasn’t seen before.
Hobo: But if he put them, by random, in a way that has been done before… Is he creative then? looking at the woman, questioningly.
Woman: It would still validate as creativity if people has never seen it been made in that particular way. meeting the questioned look Perhaps the artist himself wouldn’t feel so creative, but the end product would certainly be viewed as creative by others. facing the dude.
Hobo: with enlightened tone Good point.
Dude: But what makes him put the threads in that way? with a tingling, curious tone Why not any other way? It could end up looking really bad. looking straight at the woman.
Woman: If it looks bad, I doubt few would say it was very creative. shrugging her shoulders.
Hobo: Perhaps creativity has something to do with intuition? The artist just “sees” as if pointing on something on the ground that that specific thread needs to be added. There’s something up in his head, telling him that just this one detail should be there.
Dude: That would have to come from previous experience I suppose. A trained eye. Pretty much like spontaneity, even though it seems very much random, you got it from SOMEWHERE. holding his hands flat out, facing up, looking into the emptiness in front of him.
Woman: shooting out But kids can be quite creative!
Hobo: That’s a tough one. leaning back, hand to his chin, in deep though.
Dude: It’s hard to know where they get their things from, though I have a feeling it’s more or less the same, except that kids twist and change the things they see a lot more, making it seem “more random”. leaning back, looking up in the sky.
Woman: I think it’s safe to assume that creativity has something to do with adding weight to the words spontaneity, intuition and previous experiences, one way or the other.
There’s a longer pause.
Hobo: Hard to know. Plausible answer though. gazing down.
Dude: Sort of the question that is so self-evident, or taken for granted, that it’s hard to explain. looking at his watch.
Almost as if waking up, the hobo notices that a small crowd has flocked around the three. His cup is almost full now. He thinks to himself: “The mental horizon extends with more than one soul today.”
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