Category Archives: Creativity


The Man Who Knew Infinity (film)

“At the turn of the twentieth century, Srinivasa Ramanujan is a struggling and indigent citizen in the city of Madras in India working at menial jobs at the edge of poverty. While performing his menial labor, his employers notice that he seems to have exceptional skills at mathematics and they begin to make use of him for rudimentary accounting tasks. It becomes equally clear to his employers, who are college educated, that Ramanujan’s mathematical insights exceed the simple accounting tasks they are assigning to him and soon they encourage him to make his personal writings in mathematics available to the general public and to start to contact professors of mathematics at universities by writing to them. One such letter is sent to G.H. Hardy, a famous mathematician at Cambridge University, who begins to take a special interest in Ramanujan.” WIKIPEDIA.



I have watched this DVD film twice now, not because I am a mathematician but because of the way this character apparently received his information throughout his lifetime. Though his mathematical insights eventually proved to be correct they did not arrive in his mind as problems to be solved; they were received in their completed form as inspirations, in much the same manner as artists and scientists throughout history have done.

As Srinivasa pleaded for understanding by trying to explain that these inspirations were gifts from God, I shivered as I remembered using similar words to explain my own mystical adventures.

(I am an agnostic and I say essentially the same thing.)

When my own inspirations begIn, I feel as though there is a circular opening above my head through which flow these ideas – a shower of information from another world.

Sometimes these unnatural experiences last  for only a minute or so and l start writing them down in a pocket-sized spiral notebook or by typing  in OFFICE WORD, perhaps spending an hour or even a day or more editing the results.




Riding   buses and light rails is new to me. It’s as new as if I had  awakened one morning on another planet. The people look like people, they sound like people, but to one who has lived his life among people who though they be friends, all look and sound pretty much the same and  whom I encourage daily to think their own thoughts, to arrive at their own conclusions without having to seek validation from THE GROUP, I am learning daily that such free thinking and the results thereof, may be witnessed on any day of the week  and that there is a world of free thinkers beyond my desk. Designers, cross-country bicyclists, teachers, people with cameras and odd sounding languages, musicians and members of the Phoenix Boy’s Choir about to rehearse in the presence of the riders from hither to thither…

Meet Boo.

Boo was the only one  needing to board; it might have been better had he not. Boo was talking, apparently, to a female with whom he did not wish to part company; he appeared to need help.

Both his hands were full. His right hand held the I phone, his left held a bag which contained his wallet which in turn held his transit card. I was about to offer assistance when…

Without skipping a beat Boo arched his neck side-ways,  his right ear nearly touching his right shoulder, his left ear facing the sky. He quickly and deftly, as if he’d done this many times, laid the phone on his exposed check and continued talking; he calmly slid his now free hand into the bag that held the wallet, which held the card, which permitted him to board; ee-eye ee-eye-oh.

And we all clapped.




In the performance of one’s own work, the artist is given a glimpse from the Other Side and must be left free to choose all the components which seem to best interpret that rare instant.

Only the artist can be accountable for the expression of that creative moment in time.

Only the artist can be assumed to be sufficiently competent to make whatever choices would hopefully best portray that rare moment.

The words, the lilt, the carriage and yes, the costumery are among the many choices that must be left to the artist.

The antithesis of creativity is conformity.

If others must choose then please, consider the supposed neutrality of nudity. Would the audience best  remember The Speak or The Streak?

A friend of mine told me the other day that he hadn’t a creative bone in his body. I requested he not make fun of his skull and reminded him that at 6 months old his creative bone was actively engaged in a new idea every second of every waking minute as he crawled around on his knee bones.





Curiosity killed the cat, caught the catfish and fed Fred. Curiosity is the key to change, discovery and the next thing. Without curiosity there would be nothing new; there would be no joy, no one to read these words. Curiosity feeds fin, fowl and the hairy beast; it draws us to the stars and transforms chimps to champs as the pursuit of solutions straightens the back, calms the brow and finds more and more uses for finger dexterity.

Curiosity compels those who possess it to improve; it enhances desire and defines progress. Plato possessed it. You and I possess it. So does the rat in the Skinner cage.

Curiosity gives way to discovery, change and an opportunity to gather knowledge. What will we learn? Can we depend on what we learn? Knowledge often disappoints. Today’s knowledge is soon replaced or enhanced by tomorrow’s startling revelation. We depend heavily on that which promises to fulfill our need for Truth.

To know only a desire to satisfy the most temporary needs of the moment must be the most desperate approach to life, though I doubt that such knowledge is disturbing to chimps.

kid artist




It is said that it is easier to break an empty bottle of beer than a sealed one.

It is also said that it is easier to break anything than to fix it, unless that thing is an undesired habit or a relationship.

Is it any consolation to realize that when a thing is made by man, that something was first destroyed?

Whatever we make of ourselves requires raw materials, desire and a whole lotta Love.

Design it, gather materials, build it and sell it.


From: Leadership. A Love Story

By Lee Broom 

bathroom 1 014


 bathroom 1 014

The enemy of creativity is fear.
Seth Godin. Seth’s blog. 2/12/2015





Everything in the Universe is molded from the CRUMBS of something else.

Surely, this is the first rule of Creativity and Creativity must certainly be the first consideration in defining art.

When we live this Creative Experience, whether it be to suddenly hear the first words in a poem on its way into our reality or Miracle of Miracles, helping to form a new person, or stumbling through the agonizing pile of paperwork and interviews to adopt a child, the feeling that accompanies such Creative Endeavors is called LOVE.

The CRUMBS of the Past are the ingredients of the Present and the Memory of Ever.”


From a book called CRUMBS by Lee Broom.