Nothing gold can stay.

Why do we master crafts destined for extinction?  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ Nothing gold can stay Why do we master crafts destined for extinction? ​ --------------------------------------------------------------- Friday: I'm releasing a spoken-word poem called Thunderhead. You should take two seconds and [pre-save the track]() to ensure it doesn't get lost in the ether. --------------------------------------------------------------- My most recent obsession is Hikaru Dorodango, the Japanese art of shaping mud into flawless, luminous orbs. Several years back, National Geographic shot a short film on an Albuquerque-based artist named Bruce Gardner who specializes in the art of Hikaru Dorodango (which funny enough translates to shiny dumpling). There is something strangely calming in watching Gardner shape the treated Earth into what appears to be miniature planets straight out of a science-fiction flick. Next time you find yourself feeling a bit anxious, take 2-minutes and [watch Gardner at work](. You will return to your day pacified. By the end of this letter, I will find my way back to Hikaru Dorodango––I promise there is a purpose in my mention of mud balls––but first, a meandering digression. Two summers ago, I traveled to Nara, Japan. It's a magical, otherwordly place that looks straight out of a Hayao Miyazaki film. In Nara, you will find over 1,400 Sika deer. They are considered sacred by the people there and shown a tremendous amount of love and respect. Before I wiped [my Instagram]( several months back, I had a photograph on there of me crouching beside a Sika buck. It was a stifling day in Nara and this particular buck was wallowing in a puddle of mud to keep cool. I walked over to him with great caution––mildly concerned that he might turn all 8-points of his towering antlers on me––and offered him a cracker. He ate the cracker in a single chomp and became very still and gentle as I scratched his ears and admired his crown. It was a moment I will remember until the day I die. In John Steinbeck's memoir, [Travels with Charley](, he explains how important the act of fermentation is to his creative process... I also knew from thirty years of my profession that I cannot write hot on an event. It has to ferment. I must do what a friend calls “mule it over” for a time before it goes down. While fabled adman David Ogilvy penned words in a much different genre, he shared Steinbeck's sentiments... Big ideas come from the unconscious. This is true in art, in science and in advertising. But your unconscious has to be well informed, or your idea will be irrelevant. Stuff your conscious mind with information, then unhook your rational thought process. You can help this process by going for a long walk, or taking a hot bath, or drinking half a pint of claret. Whether I'm writing advertising over at [Honey copy](=) or sifting through my life experiences for nuggets I can turn into [essays](), [poems]() and [books](, I have found I can often get two very different works out of the same experience. Unlike Steinbeck and Ogilvy, I like to write hot when I experience something. There is a certain kind of frenetic energy that can't be replicated unless you have the foresight and fortitude to get it down on paper in the moment. Or, at least, close to the moment. I'd liken this version to wrestling lightning into the open mouth of an empty Coca-Cola bottle. However, I have found that another, more reflective and thoughtful piece of writing comes pouring out of me weeks, months and sometimes years after I've had an experience. Nara itself is home to a Buddhist temple called Tōdai-ji. Standing over 15 meters tall, Tōdai-ji is one of the oldest, largest and most extraordinary wooden structures in the world. It has stood for over a thousand years. Perhaps what's most fascinating about Tōdai-ji––and I just now made this connection after two years of fermentation––is that its early iterations were assembled without the use of metal. Sashimono is the Japanese craft of wood joinery. It is the technique of designing and assembling wood structures that can be fastened together without the use of nails. As I was stumbling down the rabbit hole of Sashimono, I discovered this obscure Twitter account run by a Japanese man who works as an automobile salesman. He created [a series of GIF illustrations]( depicting the complicated joints made in Sashimono. If you take a moment to watch them, you will surely find the renderings to be equal parts awe-inspiring and meditative. While Sashimono has since been replaced in Japan by more efficient building processes, there are still a handful of craftspeople dedicating their lives to mastering the lost art. As I was reading about Sashimono, I couldn't help but make the connection between art and innovation. Artists are slowly being replaced by innovation in much the same way that Sashimono has been replaced by more modern building practices that involve brick, cement and steel. Whether we want to believe it or not, there will be a day when crafts like writing and graphic design will be seen as archaic in the same way that Sashimono is seen today. This begs a very real question... Why is it that we spend our lives mastering a craft that is destined to become obsolete? Why do Japanese craftspeople dedicate decades of their existence mastering a craft that is now antiquated? It's the same reason Bruce Gardner creates those beautiful, glossy mud balls that will fall apart if you look at them wrong. To master a craft despite its approaching extinction is the same as choosing to live (and live fully) despite our impending death. Art, creativity and mastery are metaphors for our own humanity and immortality. Art, creativity and mastery are our souls' way of reminding ourselves that we've only got so much time. And, if we've only got so much time, why not spend that time making art? Robert Frost once wrote a poem that I revisit as often as I need to––it's titled Nothing Gold Can Stay... Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. Nothing gold can stay. By [Cole Schafer](​ P.S. Please, please, please pre-save [Thunderhead](). --------------------------------------------------------------- It's 1954 And Marilyn Monroe just stepped into the room ​ I run a creative writing shop called [Honey Copy](=), where I take my love for words and apply it to advertising. To date, I’ve penned words that have sold: $150 cookies, plant-based burgers, overpriced sneakers, stationary bikes, sweatpants that look like jeans, emeralds, flavored lubricants, psilocybin-infused chocolate, software (lots and lots of software), Swiss Gin, Kentucky Bourbon and Southern California Wine. If you or a brand you know could use some words that read like poetry and sell like Ogilvy, press the black button down below or write me at cole@honeycopy.com. [TASTE THE HONEY](=) --------------------------------------------------------------- Prolific > Perfect Don't seek to be perfect, seek to be prolific Pablo Picasso created 50,000 works of art. Katsushika Hokusai: 30,000 Keith Haring: 10,000 Andy Warhol: 9,000 Eugene Delacroix: 9,000 Utagawa Hiroshige: 8,000 Banksy: 3,000 Georgia O'Keeffe: 2,000 Salvador Dalí: 1,500 Paul Cézanne: 1,000 Claude Monet: 1,000 Edvard Munch: 1,000 Henri Matisse: 1,000 Your job as an artist isn't to be perfect. It's to be prolific. [MORE IS MORE]( --------------------------------------------------------------- What to do with an idea The compounding effect of ideation ​ You should never hoard your ideas. They will only die on the vine like unpicked tomatoes. You should share your ideas. Tell the joke when you have the idea for the joke. Pen the poem when you have the idea for the poem. Paint the painting when you have the idea for the painting. Write the song when you have the idea for the song. If there is one universal truth to creativity, it's that ideas breed ideas. They aren't a scarcity: ideas. As long as you share your ideas when you have them and believe that more will blossom like fruit that has grown, ripened and then been picked––you will never find yourself in short supply. [IDEAS BREED IDEAS]( --------------------------------------------------------------- [[linkedin]​]() ​ [Update your email preferences]( or unsubscribe [here](​ © 2024 The Process 113 Cherry St #92768, Seattle, WA 98104-2205