How to make better mistakes
Monday Motion: Happy Accidents, Bob Ross, Roger Deakins, and the Rules of Improv
We all know beloved painter and art educator Bob Ross’ famous maxim: “we don’t make mistakes, we make happy accidents.”
We only make mistakes when we treat our accidents as a dead ends.
The word “accident” itself derives from the idea of “chance occurrences.”
When we associate “accident” with “mistake,” we rob accidents of their capacity for good.
Maybe you just need to go off-roading.
That’s what Bob did when he turned stray brush strokes into additional limbs for a happy little tree.
Or maybe a heavy dashmark would be turned into a chimney for a little shack.
He had a knack for putting a budding artist at ease. And he did this by helping us to realize that we may not always follow the route we laid out originally, but we can make it to a great destination.
If I recall correctly, cinematographer Roger Deakins has talked about leaving something to be discovered in the actual shoot when thinking about lighting
That is to say, when making the plan to do the film, there is something to be found in allowing factors like lighting to be adjusted based on what you find on set.
There’s creativity to be found in what’s available and not just what you’re trying to make happen.
Maybe films shouldn’t be improv, though on occasion you can do that too.
Though in a wonderful conversation between a number of extraordinarily gifted filmmakers, Todd Phillips left us with a wonderful thought:
Making movies is jazz. It’s not math.
It was suggested to me that I should try improv.
I’m trying to get better at saying “no” to things, so fortunately I’m not trying it now (though nervousness certainly helps me utter the word in this case).
A friend told me to try improv because I make connections quickly.
I don’t know necessarily if that’s true — I’ve never been anyone else, so I don’t know that my way of thinking is distinct.
All that to say, we all do a little improv now and again.
Such as the examples that I talk about in this piece, which began crystallizing as I just sat down to write.
For instance, I didn’t realize I was going to mention Roger Deakins in this piece on the outset.
You find yourself with little sprouts you may have painted by mistake that now you can turn into an entire branch of the conversation.
Just, don’t “deny the premise.”
That is, after all, one of the key features of improv.
Practitioners can only build upon what another person throws at them.
They can’t reroute.
They can’t uproot and replace.
They have to go with it.
No retcons.
When you accidentally splatter paint all across your nearly finished canvas, maybe you won’t end up with the painting you tried to get at the outset. But by turning the splatters into cloud or bushes, maybe you can find something new.
In many ways, we’re “writing to learn” when we begin projects like newsletters of this kind.
If you see a connection, make that connection.
That’s what great storytelling is.
Don’t push ideas away as being too niche.
Lay it out for people. They’ll understand
Sure, it might take some build up and background.
But you can integrate it and help make some beautiful.
That’s the art of great storytelling.
Just make the connections, and follow the path from there.
If you can see a new limb in a stray paint streak, you’re well on your way to avoiding the dead ends that stop too many creative minds short.
We are merely Scribes. Take what is given. Work with "the light". Let the story take us wherever it want to go.