I need creativity like I need air.
By the age of 10, most educated children don’t believe they’re creative. At the same time, people achieve extraordinary feats of mind-blowing creativity all over the world.
I’m an artist, I’ve never had what many people would call “a proper job”. I’ve always run businesses though, and I intend to live by my creative wits even if that means being misunderstood and judged. Being brave enough to call myself an artist will be the measure of my success.
But here’s the truth: you don’t even need to call yourself an artist to live a deeply creative life. What you need to do is tune out the noise telling you that you can’t be creative because you aren’t one of the chosen few.
Let me take you back to the first time I encountered this myth.
Picture this: An awe-inspiring land of rich blue snow-capped mountains, gigantic waterfalls, epic cliff faces, and impossibly big skies. That’s where my story begins. I grew up in a multicultural enclave in the mountain kingdom of Lesotho during the last years of South African apartheid. This tiny, landlocked island known as “The Kingdom in The Sky” sits in the clouds at over 4,593 ft feet, completely surrounded by South Africa. This tiny country is home to a resourceful and creative people: the Basotho.
Lesotho was also a political safe-haven during the oppressive apartheid regime in neighbouring South Africa. During my childhood, in the 1980s and 90s, this tiny country sat like an island in shark-infested waters, attracting political exiles, freedom fighters, banned authors, journalists, photographers, filmmakers, and artists. My school friends were the children of shopkeepers, school teachers, engineers and business people. But they were also the children of freedom fighters, revolutionaries, spies, and exiled political leaders.
This was a country where, on the one hand, we grew up barefoot and carefree, riding horses in the mountains, and on the other hand, we checked the car for bombs every morning before setting off for school. Our world was one of perpetual contradiction, of the certainty of uncertainty.
It’s against this backdrop that I begin my life as a young creative visionary. One glorious day in the early 1980s. I’m four or five, crouching, making traditional clay animals on the dusty ground outside the pottery. An enormous sky boasts triumphant streaks of cloud, artfully dry-brushed against the vaulted ceiling of the blue heavens. I’m content.
The clay dies quickly in the heat of the sun. You can actually see the water retreating as it evaporates under the sun’s glare. I carefully wet and scratch the legs of a ram to make them stick, before smoothing the joins away just like I’ve seen the artisan craftsmen do in the pottery.
The whitewashed walls of the circular workshop buildings gleam against a backdrop of rust and ochre scrubland. The old water tower, suspended on spindly metal legs, creaks like an empty stomach in the heat haze. The Maluti mountains glower in the distance- purple crags telling tales of dragons and lost Elfin kingdoms. Tolkien was born just a few miles from here— not that you’d guess, looking at the sparse thorny trees and pitted dusty road shimmering into the liquid distance.
I’m so engrossed in my work that I don’t notice the dapper young policeman lean his bicycle up against the whitewashed wall of the workshop. I don’t see or hear him until he emits a low whistle in my direction. I eye his khaki uniform warily and busy myself, attaching little pointed clay horns onto my ram. We seem suspended there, the policeman and I, floating- as if one of us might suddenly fall into the sky by some accident of reverse gravity. And then he speaks, unequivocally, unmistakably to me.
“Little girl, what are you playing with? You should do some real work, or I’ll take you to prison!”
He laughs heartily at his own joke and cycles away whistling merrily.
I’m suddenly ashamed and afraid. I hide under the stairs for what seems like hours, just in case the policeman comes back to arrest me. For the first time, I’m carrying a heavy load of troubling ideas: Some work is serious and some isn’t. Some people are allowed to make things, and some aren’t. And worst of all: you can get punished if you don’t follow the rules.
As trivial as my encounter with the policeman might sound, it set off a subtle chain reaction. This was the foundation on which more myths could take root like weeds. It’s easy to see why so many people believe that only the chosen few will ever succeed at being creative.
In most schools and workplaces, creativity gets treated like the soft furnishings of life –nice to have, but not essential. It’s often the first thing to go when budgets are cut. We’re taught early that creativity is separate from logic. You might have experienced being typecast by your parents and teachers if they defined you as either creative or academic. Labelling people like this can stop them from living their creative potential.
In my 20+ years of being an artist, coach, and creative director, I’ve identified 7 Deadly Myths About Creativity that hold people back from living and working creatively.
- Creativity is for the chosen few
- Creative people are flaky and disorganised
- You have to sacrifice a lot to be creative
- Creativity is frivolous
- Logic is more important than magic
- Creativity leads to loss (of finances, reputation or control)
- Creativity is for children
We’re missing out on powerful opportunities to educate, to work, and even to heal more effectively, because we don’t treat creativity as a guiding principle. So here’s my invitation to you.
Take another look at the myths I listed
Ask yourself: How much has each one shaped your decisions, your confidence, your willingness to try? Give every myth a score from 0 to 10. Zero if it hasn’t touched you at all, ten if it’s been a heavy influence in your life.
Then, go a step further. Think about the role you play in passing these myths along—to your family, your friends, your team, or your colleagues. Mark each one with a color:
- Red if you know you’ve reinforced it often.
- Amber if you’ve repeated it sometimes, maybe without realising.
- Green if you’ve managed to challenge it and stand for a different story.
By being honest with yourself and others, you can begin to set the stage for a truly creative life. You need creativity like you need air. It’s time to breathe!
These ideas are part of Creative Oxygen, my forthcoming book, which explores how creativity can transform the way we live, parent, work, learn, and connect. My work with teams and leaders continues this mission, helping to place creativity at the heart of healthier, more inspired ways of being.
📖 Content Page Blurb
Creative Oxygen
By Ali Mapletoft
What if creativity wasn’t reserved for the chosen few, but as essential to life as the air we breathe? Ali Mapletoft shares her journey from childhood myths to powerful truths, inviting us to reclaim creativity as a guiding principle for confidence, work, and living fully.
https://alimapletoft.com/
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