"Where do you find your inspiration?"

It’s hard to talk about Inspiration. Most people will think I’m having delusions of grandeur, or merely speaking metaphorically.
 
Who takes Inspiration seriously these days? If you want to make a living in the creative arts, and you have commissions, grants and deadlines to worry about, it is terrifying to think that the source of your art is beyond your control. Inspiration can’t be trusted to show up when you need it to, and so most artists focus instead on their own hard work and commitment. You need to be self-motivated, self-disciplined and self-sufficient to succeed as an artist. If you start waiting around for Inspiration, you’re stuffed.
 
Maybe I am.
 
I know what composing by myself feels like – I do it often, and it’s not fun. I can be pretty self-destructive when left to my own devices. I always want to understand everything in the fullest possible way, and insist on doing my utmost to achieve this. It’s annoying, because it comes from a good tendency: a natural curiosity, a desire for knowledge, wisdom and skill. But it often goes too far. In composing, it manifests in a steadfast refusal to make a decision until I’ve explored every conceivable possibility for the choice, even in something as basic as choosing a voicing for an individual chord.
 
It’s an insistence on absolute control, centred on myself alone, and it does nothing but suffocate the music and give me that aloof “suffering artist” pride.
 
But there’s another way.

“But it isn’t Easy,” said Pooh to himself… “Because Poetry and Hums aren’t things which you get, they’re things which get you. And all you can do is to go where they can find you."
He waited hopefully...
– A.A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner

Photo: Eleanor Hebart

I’ve made my composing a morning activity, mostly. I go for a walk, have breakfast, then sit down in my favourite chair for as long as I can. I might write in my journal, or read, or pray; but mostly I’m just still and quiet. Coming out of that, getting up to compose can be very exciting.
 
Rather than a habit to control creativity, this is a way of relinquishing it, letting go. Any creative idea that might (yes, might) show up is no longer an expectation, or a necessity, but a gift: Inspiration.
 
Where does it come from?
 
At this point the usual secular response would be to feel a vague sense of undirected gratitude for being “lucky”. Whatever inspired idea you’ve had has probably just bubbled up from your subconscious. Nobody else is involved, so… well… lucky you. Hope you can pull it off again.

Photo: Eleanor Hebart

But what I find wonderful is that there is someone to be thankful to. As Johann Sebastian Bach wrote on his manuscripts, “Soli Deo Gloria”.
                                                                                         
Of course, if it was that simple, all music (and life) would be nothing but amazing. But contrary to popular perception, Inspiration does not appear as something fully-formed. Almost always it is little more than a hint, the faintest whisper of something which you can’t quite make out, but nevertheless feel excited by.
 
I love how Jean Sibelius once described his composing: “As if God the Father had thrown down pieces of a mosaic from the floor of heaven and asked me to work out the pattern.” Only most of the time it’s like you’ve only got one or two pieces, and so you try to make the rest up as best you can, and you’re never satisfied because you can never get it quite right. Yet there is also a deep joy in knowing that there is a bigger picture, beyond what you can make out, and that you’ve been given a part to play in making and enjoying it.
 
This is why I compose. I love the joy of Inspiration!

© David John Lang, 2015

All Joy reminds. It is never a possession, always a desire for something longer ago or further away or still ‘about to be’.
– C.S.Lewis, Surprised by Joy.

Postscript:
For the musical equivalent of the article you have just read, check out Surprised by Joy.