Nick Bantock - The Tricksters Hat: A Mischievous Apprenticeship in Creativity

If you want a shortcut to originality... this isnt the book for you.

On the other hand, if youre willing to be led hither and thither down unlikely paths by a fellow of dubious reputation, if youre prepared to keep a sense of humor and not be fazed when he plucks the unexpected out of a mischief-stuffed hat, if youre ready to zigzag, detour, and wander in search of a better understanding of your artistic core, then please feel free to slip-slide further into these pages.

WHERE TO START

Its dusk. A stranger is driving around the countryside utterly lost. Eventually he comes to a tiny hamlet. The place is deserted apart from a little man sitting on a rustic fence. The stranger winds his window down and asks for directions to Fortunes Hall. The little man removes his peculiar, battered hat, places it upside down between his knees, scratches his head, and without looking up begins.

Its like this, he says. You take the first right, the third left, the second right, pass over the humpback bridge, then you carry on till you reach the Goats Arms. A mile after that youll see... and so he continues for a full two minutes.

Finally he completes the impossibly convoluted stream of directions, replaces his hat, fixes the stranger with a piercing gaze, and declares, But if I were you, I wouldnt start from here.

Our friend the stranger has a problem. If you were he, what would you do next? You cannot retrace your steps. There is no one else to ask. Are you obliged to keep driving in the hope that you will stumble on your destination before the night descends?

A troublesome conundrumor maybe not. If you are less specific about your destination, then maybe you arent lost at all.

WHO IS THE TRICKSTER, AND WHAT ELSE DOES HE HAVE IN HIS HAT?

Of all the reasons for being an artist, there is one that outweighs all others: Art offers a path to our souls.

But this path isnt direct. There are no shortcuts. The road is confusing, and seemingly getting lost along the way is inevitable.

However, perhaps that is the point. After all, if it were simply a matter of going from A to B as the crow flies, how much would we learn along the way? In order to gather wisdom, we are obliged to stumblebum, our search careening us against the periphery of our comfort and comprehension.

By nature these wanderings arent easy. We have been told so many times that if we want something badly enough and focus hard enough, we can have it. But that concept falls prey to the notion that we can conceive what we need, that we know the best way to go, that there is a best way to go. We cant get far enough back from the road to see the topography: our perception of where we might be going will thankfully always be wrong.

And thats where the Trickster comes in. Having a wise-joker as our journeys companionsomeone whose very nature embodies misdirectionis an enormous asset, and we need all the help we can get. So, for the duration of this book, the Tricksterwho comes ready furnished with a map and an exercise hatwill be joining us. He has much to give, but remember: he has no qualms about tripping us awake if our boots get too filled with ego.

A PIGMENT OF THE IMAGINATION

Have you ever tried setting your mind to an intentionally impossible task? For example, trying to grasp infinity or eternity, imagining colors that arent on the spectrum, or attempting to rhyme purple, silver, and orange?

The exercise is not intended to be one of frustration but of widening expectation and stretching the imagination so that its more willing to encompass the less obvious.

Among other things, the Trickster (and his family of Familiars, see page 192) teaches us how to go outside our standard way of observing things. He helps us expand our peripheral vision, to see beyond the obvious path.

As I understand it, civilization needs something approaching a shared view of reality in order to function. But that norm is inevitably narrow and blinkered. None of us really see, hear, and experience exactly the same thing as our neighbors; we merely agree on a colluded approximation, hoping that if we cling together we wont get too disoriented.