A good thing with experiments is that they aren’t precious. You are not taking care of something, you have no responsibility to fulfil something’s potential – but to learn from going through a process.
When I experiment I allow myself to be fast, to be reckless and daring – it’s all just a joyride. Steal an idea and drive it as far as you can.
I can see a recurring pattern in my behaviour, such as my Disquiet Junto-entries or my half-hearted Microbrute-Jamuary. I start out enthusiastically, it gets dull, I’m bored with my work and I drop out. Time passes and I listen back to my sketches and suddenly they seem full of life and potential, like the best work I did that year. Not fully finished, not perfect – but interesting, at least to me. And too often I regret that I didn’t keep pushing my experiments, that I didn’t keep exploring to really master those techniques that the experiments had led me to find.
“Nothing is precious” is a mantra sometimes heard, I think I read about a Radiohead guitarist saying it. It’s an interesting attitude. The confidence and belief that there will always be more ideas.
Well, as a songwriter I seem to carry a lot of eggs. I have crates of eggs from way back. And as long as I view them as precious, actually finishing them is an uphill struggle. It’s like I can only lose, as long as they stay unfinished I can still enjoy their ideal state in my fantasy. Now, what if I decided to see them all as bouncing balls?
To make an omelet … etc.