Finding your place.

How our physical environment can become an important relationship for a creative life.

I was roughly thirty years old the first time I traveled outside of North America. Travel was not really a big part of my life up until then, even domestically my family mostly did road trips (albeit to fun places such as Cape Cod or the White Mountains of New Hampshire). I went to college in Boston and never studied abroad.

It wasn’t until I moved to New York City, when I was twenty-five, that the fear of leaving the comfortable turned into an exhilaration. The reason why I decided to face that fear and leave is an entirely different story better suited for another time. Suffice to say, the first leap away from what we know is always the hardest.

Still, I’ve always been enamored by the role that place plays in our creative identity. When I was younger, I begged my parents to bring me into Boston so I could see the lights and feel the energy of the place. When I traveled as an adult, I’m a tad ashamed to admit that I handed over my New York (and later, California) driver’s license with immense pride each time it was asked. I live here.

There is so much wrapped up in the idea of where we choose to live. Los Angeles represented so much more than just a big city with nice weather. For a kid from New Hampshire, it was a statement that I had decided to pursue my dreams, whatever they were or however far away they may have been from reality. I saw that old (often apocryphal) quote “America is built on a tilt and everything loose slides to California” and it really meant something to me. This is why it was so hard to leave such a place and return home to New England. While it was the right choice for my family, there was a sense that this move signaled a failure to have done what I had set out to do.

All of this is, of course, nonsense. You can pursue your dreams from wherever you like, and there is no “right place” to live your best life. It is also true that the “right place for you” will be singular for all of your days or it will change as the stages of life evolve. Whatever that journey looks like is totally appropriate, the real gift is in recognizing it and adjusting to it.

So, why do I ramble on about this? I’ve written extensively on this publication and in others about the role of place in a broader cultural context. Nearly all major periods of Renaissance in history were inextricably connected to place. The Renaissance happened in Europe post bubonic plague. The Belle Époque happened in Paris with an influx of American and other worldly literary titans. Rock n’ roll happened in Laurel Canyon as the world’s preeminent musicians descended upon a small set of hills sitting just above Sunset Boulevard. And today, the role of place is just as important, with physical communities sprouting and flourishing all over the world in a similar post-pandemic flurry of creativity. But our world is inherently different than it was in the times I noted above. We live in disparate places, we connect often over virtual channels, and we don’t conduct our creative work in the same in-person collaborative way that defined prior generations.

While place has become less important for creating, ironically, it has become more important to us as creators. Why? Because in a world where we can live anywhere to work, the decision falls solely to us. If you don’t need to go to New York to work in advertising, then where would you choose to be? If you don’t need to move to Nashville to pursue a career in country music, then where does your heart pull you? This is no easy task, to find the place that you connect with, that draws out of you your full creative potential. And it is precisely why we must give it so much more of a focus in this modern Renaissance.

If you are afforded the privilege to do so, travel. Go to areas of the world you’re deeply unfamiliar with. Involve yourself in the day-to-day, learn how people live. I’d bet you’ll find that the big ideas (family, friendship, passion) are ubiquitous. But you’ll also find inspiration and power in the intricacies of new cultures and locations. In doing so, you’ll recognize your place, and you’ll take inspiration from the creative types that have passed through it and left their own indelible marks along the way.

I set out to write a book in every city that I’ve lived in, with the idea that the place would sway the energy and the topic of focus. And while I can’t speak to the quality of my writing, so far, I’ve stayed true to the plan, with a book about communication (in Boston), a book about creativity (in LA), and a book about success (in NYC). When I used to write in New York, I’d find a coffee shop, early. Preferably I would set up against one of those high top bars that sit against the window facing the street. The “success” of New York never inspired me, the energy from the people racing around to pursue it did.

And that’s why this week, I’m excited to be heading back to New York, one of the places that has shaped my life and career. I’ve been invited by the team at The Data Vandals, and my friends at Flourish, a part of Canva, to participate in an exhibition and celebration of one of New York’s most iconic neighborhoods, the East Village. We’ll be discussing the importance of place and how design captivates a community. If you’ll be around, I’d love for you to check it out.

Which places are important to you? A city, a home, a coffee shop, a park, each of these can of course contribute to our happiness. But if considered carefully, they also can be an important driver of our creative potential.

Photo by Kai Pilger on Unsplash.