Unlock your creativity (but please don't use a key)

In life, creativity is essential.

I realise that's a pretty broad statement, but so often it gets forgotten in the midst of all the other demands on our attention and time from one day to the next.

And that's even more true when it comes to thinking even more broadly in terms of one generation to the next.

Which is why I think it's so important that everyone – and I mean everyone – should listen to what Ken Robinson has to say here about the role of creativity in the education of our children. In his view, schools kill creativity: we systematically erase it from the future generation's skill set in the interests of preparing them for a world that has long since passed. We have evolved, but our education system has not.

This became painfully clear to me when I came across this ad for MGSM (Macquarie Graduate School of Management) in the paper earlier this week.

Now I should say that you have to be careful what you say these days given the universal access that the Internet provides – as Hill & Knowlton found out to their dismay this week when their GM criticised Telstra-owned Sensis on Twitter without considering what their client Telstra might have to say on the matter.

As it happens, I've actually completed strategy-related work for MGSM in the past, and I truly believe they are a great business with an outstanding product.

Which only makes this ad all the more underwhelming. Is this really the best that one of the top MBA schools has to offer?

An image of a key.

In the shape of the letter M. You know, as in MGSM.

With a headline that says Unlock your potential.

And don't even get me started on its design aesthetics – or lack thereof.

Call me demanding, but that's as bad an example of a cliché as you'll find. And when you're a prospective applicant, considering which graduate school to give your top dollar (thousands, not hundreds!), it's perfectly reasonable to set the highest standards. Afterall, they expect nothing less from you.

MGSM is not your average graduate school. But you wouldn't know that from reading this ad. Even for MGSM, it seems that creativity and education are not the most comfortable bedfellows.

But as luck would have it, just as soon as I had finished reading the paper, I picked up a magazine and found this ad for the Australian Institute of Architects.

Now there's an organisation – with a comparable (although not identical) role in terms of its educational remit – that doesn't just have a clear point of view on its purpose in this world, but also the ability to communicate it in a creative and compelling way.

And here's another one for good measure.

This is an organisation that is inspired and unparalleled not only in what it does, but also in how it does it – and that has to be one of the most exciting type treatments you'll ever see. Scroll back up to the MGSM example and the difference in impact is astonishing. Judging from this advertising, who on earth would want to have an MBA when you could be an architect?

And it's not enough simply to say that architecture is naturally more creative than commerce. Creativity is as much nurture as it is nature.

Here's an example from Dixons, an online electrical retailer in the UK, that demonstrates exactly that point. They may well be at the bottom of the pile, but that doesn't stop them coming up with one of the most imaginative taglines you'll ever read.

Dixons.co.uk. The last place you want to go.

In a world where the competition is as daunting as John Lewis and Selfridges, any brand that chooses their words so well is most certainly a brand that I want to talk to.

And here's another one.

All that's left to say is that creativity is king. And if you believe Ken Robinson, whom I mentioned right at the start, we need to start investing in the creativity of the next generation, now. Or they might just end up in MGSM's marketing department.

An oasis of insight

After reading the title of this post, no doubt you're expecting great things – or, grave disappointment (not that I would hold it against you).

And you'd be right. On both counts.

Welcome to the world of real estate agents, the modern day leaders of literature, who shower us on a weekly basis with all manner of adjectives, superlatives and seductive turns of phrase.

So much so that last weekend's Sydney Morning Herald thrust them into the spotlight with an article entitled Seductive turn in saucy sales spin. Which could have just as well been written by a real estate agent given the fact that the article was neither as seductive nor as saucy as the headline had advertised – the very thing that made me read it in the first place.

For anyone still interested (in spite of the lack of X-rated content), here it is.

As you may have noticed, the article ends with a quote from the aptly-named Byron Rose, who says, "Words can be important, but I still think good photos of a property are far more important".

I can't help but wonder where the facts fit on his scale of importance.

Christmas comedown

I meant to post this a few weeks ago, but better late than never.

It's about Christmas trees. And I must admit to feeling more than a little guilty – emotionally and environmentally.

Here's what became of ours.

Once a sparkling beacon of light and joy in our living room. Now a little shabby and bare out in the yard.

And here's more (all photographed with a little more flair than my own iPhone effort above).

What's worse, my feelings were not instinctive. Instead, what originally started me off down this path was a blog by a friend of mine, Ingrid – the Aesthetics of Joy.

In her recent post On Christmas trees and emotional sustainability, Ingrid writes about the idea that the emotional meaning of objects is transformed by their context. In other words: "Before December 25th, a Christmas tree is an aesthetic of joy and anticipation. After Jan 2nd, it's trash to be dealt with, with connotations of loss and sadness."

And so began my own feelings of guilt.

The post and the poem

This week, a friend of mine tipped me off about a conversation happening here about whether technology is killing the way we communicate.

I posted a comment, and it started me thinking about how everything is now about tweets and updates and txts – basically anything short and sweet that is easy to absorb and doesn't make you think too hard. And while I can appreciate that, I would also like to think that there's still a place in the world for writing that is longer and a little more challenging and creative.

With that in mind, here's something you don't see much these days. A poem.

This one 's by Ted Hughes.

Written in 1957, it's called The Thought-Fox, and it deals with the idea of creativity and the writing process itself. And I hope you enjoy it.

The Thought-Fox

I imagine this midnight moment's forest:

Something else is alive

Beside the clock's loneliness

And this blank page where my fingers move.

Through the window I see no star:

Something more near

Though deeper within darkness

Is entering the loneliness:

Cold, delicately as the dark snow,

A fox's nose touches twig, leaf;

Two eyes serve a movement, that now

And again now, and now, and now

Sets neat prints into the snow

Between trees, and warily a lame

Shadow lags by stump and in hollow

Of a body that is bold to come

Across clearings, an eye,

A widening deepening greenness,

Brilliantly, concentratedly,

Coming about its own business

Till with a sudden sharp hot stink of fox

It enters the dark hole of the head.

The window is starless still; the clock ticks,

The page is printed.