Between Creator and Creation

Sunday Reflections

Jan 05, 2025

A Sunday Reflection on Living Art Meaningfully in the New Year and forgiving ourselves for what we have yet to finish from the last.

Do you have a tendency toward beginning too many projects and not finishing them? I can raise my hand high when it comes to this innate tendency of Aries babies born in spring. With this first sign of the zodiac comes the 'affliction' of having many ideas and beginning to acting upon them all without possibly enough time to follow through. We have the tendency to start projects without knowing in what they may result. Yet, isn’t it freeing to set forth so many possibilities? I mean—staying open to possibility is important, right?

Let’s imagine the creative process as a metaphorical conversation between overflowing notebooks and the discerning mind; a dialogue between a visionary and his edifice, a composer and his sheet music. For each, in the tension between unbounded creative potential and the finite act of creation we find a fascinating lens to explore the interplay between creator and creation.

The Bountiful Notebook

Journal: I am a collection of dreams, ideas and inspirations, jotted down in haste when a moment of brilliance strikes. Within my pages lie flying machines, anatomical studies, designs for water systems and fanciful inventions. Each sketch is a seed, some planted in fertile ground, others left to linger. My Master chooses from me not out of certainty but curiosity—what sparks his deepest intrigue in the moment, or what aligns with the demands of his patrons. Many ideas bloom briefly before being overshadowed by the next inspiration. Some are left half-finished, waiting for a future that may never arrive.

Inventor: When I turn to you, my notebook, I am confronted by an abundance of potential. Which to act upon? The answer often lies in urgency and feasibility. A patron commissions a fresco; a flying machine waits, an untamed ambition. The anatomy of a horse commands my attention until a human form proves more pressing. Yet in leaving some works undone within you, I grant them immortality in their potential! My open-ended ideas inspire others toward completing the vision or taking them in their own unexpected directions.

For Leonardo da Vinci, we know what resonated because very few of his own completed projects were not commissioned. We admire his unfinished works as much as those completed. The flying machine may not have lifted humanity off the ground in his lifetime, but his drawings inspired later generations of inventors. Similarly, his dissections of anatomy laid groundwork for medical science, though they were never formally published. Hindsight celebrates not the finished results but the audacity of da Vinci’s constant experimentation. This approach captures the richness of his creative legacy, showing how choosing and abandoning projects is intrinsic to the journey. It reframes ‘failure’ as unfinished stories, left for others to pick up and continue or simply marvel at the genius of concept.

And the ones which were finished? His anatomical studies, his codices including the Codex Leicester and Codex Atlanticus, and finally the Vitruvian Man, inspired by the writings of the ancient Roman architect Vitruvius. With it we are left an iconic drawing of man in two superimposed poses within a circle and square. This was not a commissioned work: rather a study for exploration of proportion, symmetry and human anatomy. It remains one of the most recognizable symbols of blending art and science known today. Lastly, with Mona Lisa it is debatable whether or not it was a commission because he worked on it for years beyond the expected timeline for commissioned pieces. What’s more, in it he introduces groundbreaking techniques with the soft blending of colors and tones we now know as sfumato. Some say he kept it with him until his death, suggesting a very personal attachment to the painting. After all, even if it were commissioned, would you sell your own masterpiece?

Unfinished, Not Unloved

Composer: You are my canvas, my sounding board, the keeper of what I hear in my soul. With each note, I try to capture the vastness of the melodies within me. Yet, for every phrase I write, countless others remain unspoken, unheard. I wonder—do I honor you by completing this work, or by leaving space for what I cannot yet imagine? What might you sound like if I were to finish you, or if someone else, long after me, tries to?

Music Staff: Your hand gives me life, but I am not limited to what you inscribe. In the lines you leave unfinished, I hear whispers of possibility. Every rest is a doorway to new interpretations. When you set down your pen, you do not end me—you invite the world to imagine what I might become. For every performance, I am reborn, my phrases given fresh breath by those who play me. I am not incomplete; I am infinite.

Composer: But what will they think, hearing only two movements when I dreamed of four? Will they understand that sometimes the heart cannot carry a vision to its end, the act of creation is as fleeting as the notes themselves?

Music Staff: They will marvel at what you have given, not mourn what you have not. The two movements you wrote are a universe unto themselves—enough to move hearts and stir minds. And who knows? Perhaps in my silence, someone will find their own melody, inspired by the space you left for them.

This interplay between creator and creation captures the enduring power of the Unfinished Symphony. It is not limited in its incompleteness; here the listener is invited to dream beyond what was written, creating a shared act of imagination between Franz Schubert, the performers and the audience.

Discovered decades after Schubert’s death, the Symphony No. 8 in B minor premiered in 1865, astonishing audiences with its beauty and originality. Its incompletion has only added to its allure, making it a poignant reminder the creative process itself can produce a masterpiece, even without a final resolution. There is no direct evidence as to whether it was a response to a commission or specific work by another composer. However, Schubert did admire Beethoven, who was transforming the symphonic form during the same period.

Innovatively orchestrated, Schubert’s use of orchestral color in the haunting opening theme and lush, lyrical melodies marks a departure from earlier symphonic traditions, laying the groundwork for the future Romantic symphony. It is unique in its two-movement structure challenging conventional symphonic forms of the time, still offering a complete and satisfying musical journey despite its incompletion.* The reasons for its incompletion remain unclear. Some suggest Schubert may have lost interest, been daunted by the innovations he had already achieved in the first two movements, or faced interruptions from other projects or his declining health. Even today, it remains one of classical music’s most celebrated and enigmatic works.

Reflection of Divine Patience

Edifice: Master, please. Why must you take so long? My towers stretch skyward, aching to pierce the heavens, yet I remain incomplete. Surely, God desires a finished house!

Visionary: Ah, my dear basilica, patience. You of all creations should understand: God is not in a hurry. Time is but a canvas for divine work and we are merely its humble artisans.

Edifice: Easy for you to say. You wander these streets, sketching and dreaming, while I stand half-formed, weathering the years. My visitors whisper of my grandeur but lament my incompleteness.

Visionary: And yet they come. They see your beauty not as a flaw but as a promise. Each chisel mark on your stones is a prayer; each shard of glass in your windows a hymn. You grow not for haste, but for eternity.

Edifice: But why such complexity? My facades teem with stories—the Nativity, the Passion—carved with such detail that even the angels must marvel. Your artisans labor endlessly. Could you not simplify?

Visionary: Simplify? No, my dear. Creation itself is complex. To simplify would be to deny the divine intricacies of life. Look at the artisans: The stonemasons shaping your spires, the glassworkers painting light into your windows. Each hand brings devotion, each moment a reflection of God's patience.

Edifice: And yet you design things no one else dares. My columns bend like trees, my vaults soar like forests. The skeptics mock me as a fever dream. What do you say to them?

Visionary: I say this: Nature is the truest architect. Your columns stand like the trunks of ancient oaks because the forest is God's first cathedral. Let them mock. They do not see the harmony I see.

Edifice: But you will not live to see me completed. Doesn’t this trouble you?

Visionary: Not at all. You are a testament to faith, a living work transcending even myself. The generations to come will add their own prayers to your stones. This is not my work alone—it is the work of all who believe in beauty and devotion.

Edifice: Then I must trust you. I shall be patient. For now.

Visionary: That’s the spirit, my dear basilica. Remember, eternity is your foundation, and in eternity, there is no rush.

A powerful example of an ongoing creative project emphasizing process over completion is Sagrada Família by Antoni Gaudí in Barcelona, Spain. The basilica is an architectural masterpiece under construction since 1882. It remains unfinished to this day. Gaudí devoted the last 15 years of his life to its design and construction, blending Gothic and Art Nouveau styles in ways unimagined resulting in a breathtaking, otherworldly structure. Reflecting his belief in the importance of meticulous craftsmanship and spiritual inspiration over deadlines, Gaudí did actually remark that his client, being God, was in no hurry!

Even in its unfinished state, the Sagrada Família is celebrated as one of the world’s most iconic and visited buildings. Its incomplete nature invites us to marvel at the creativity and vision behind it, highlighting the act of building—layering imagination upon stone—is as significant as the final structure. The ongoing construction, funded by public donations and modern technology, connects Gaudí’s legacy to contemporary generations, turning its very incompletion into the living testament it has become to the beauty of process and evolution.

The Context of Endless Possibilities

The spark of an idea deserves its full exploration, even if it means discarding, reworking, or pushing it aside time and again. Next time you find yourself in this predicament, remember you are not the only one! Great minds have hesitated, magnificent projects have gone unfinished, yet still been acclaimed.

History’s great unfinished projects—from da Vinci’s formidable Notebooks, to Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony and Gaudí’s Sagrada Família—remind us true creativity thrives in experimentation. Trial and error are the pathways to discovery, requiring many attempts before success reveals itself. We should never be dissuaded from starting anew, shifting direction and seeking fresh results. These unfinished masterpieces, in all their imperfections, show us the process is, itself, as valuable as the outcome. Creativity, like science, is a discipline—one that demands patience, openness and the courage to fail before achieving greatness.