Stefano Fumagalli

I still remember that moment during my first year at conservatory when a composition teacher gave me a lesson that would revolutionize my approach to professional creativity. In an environment where everyone was seeking inspiration, he spoke of discipline: "You must write every day, whether it's exercises or an original piece. Creativity is not just intuition: it's primarily technique and consistency. It's a skill that can be practiced and improved, just like an athlete trains their body."

This insight from my teacher is now confirmed by the latest discoveries in neuroplasticity. Scientists have demonstrated how our brain can continuously modify and reorganize itself based on experiences and stimuli. Just as a musician, by practicing daily, develops new neural connections that make performance more fluid, creative capacity can be enhanced through constant practice. Regular practice not only consolidates existing neural pathways but creates new ones, making the creative process increasingly natural and accessible.

Those words shaped the following twenty years of my life. Today, I can say that there are very few days when I don't create something new. It has become my personal mantra: not a day should pass without an idea, however small, transforming into something tangible, whether on paper or screen.

As a creative professional, I can't afford to wait for inspiration. Over time, I've developed precise rituals to enter the "creative flow state": always trying to start at the same time, creating a specific work environment, using breathing and concentration techniques before beginning. These rituals become mental anchors signaling to the brain that it's time to create. Sometimes just five minutes of preparation can unlock hours of productive work.

Over time, I've discovered that creativity is not the insurmountable monster many imagine. Certainly, for most people, it still represents a significant hurdle, but I've learned that there's a secret: cultivating an attitude of openness and sincere listening, both towards oneself and the surrounding environment. It's surprising how much the world can offer us creative insights if we simply learn to look at it with attentive eyes.

"True freedom is when fear disappears"

Thich Nhat Hanh – Zen Master

I found this vision, applied to the creative act, in two readings that recently struck me: "The Method" by Phil Stutz and "The Creative Act" by Rick Rubin. Both authors speak of creativity as a universal force, the "Creative Force" that resides in each of us. It's not just a matter of talent or technique, but of open mindednesss and the ability to connect with something larger than ourselves. By practicing, I'm convinced we can simplify accessing this creative impulse force.

One of the deepest reasons we often avoid creating is that true creativity forces us to confront our inner shadows. Phil Stutz, in his book "The Method", presents one of his "tools" called "Reversal of Desire", an instrument that invites us to embrace exactly what we fear most: pain, uncertainty, vulnerability. Instead of fleeing discomfort, we are called to move through it, transforming it into creative energy. It's a process that reverses our natural tendency to avoid: the more we approach what scares us, the more we discover we can tap into a surprising creative force.

Technique is not just knowledge of tools, but also the ability to manage the creative process itself. In my case, I've learned to recognize the patterns of my creative flow: I know that when I start working on an idea, I need to complete a two or three-hour cycle with my mind very focused on pure creation, while after a break or the next day, after a good morning run, I can enter a mode of refinement and revision with a calmer mental attitude. I've also learned to use "constrained sessions": giving oneself, or having, precise time or tool limits can paradoxically amplify creativity instead of limiting it.

Creative professionals often find themselves managing multiple projects simultaneously, each in a different phase. I've discovered that alternating projects in the intuition phase with those in the development phase can maintain high creative energy: while one project "rests", the unconscious continues to work on it, and solutions often emerge while working on something else.

Creating is a profoundly therapeutic process, but also energetically demanding. When I truly immerse myself in a creative process, I find myself digging into my most intimate experiences, in wounds never completely healed, in the most intense joys. It's like having a self-therapy session: at the end, I feel emptied, yet paradoxically fulfilled. It's an emptying that brings with it a strange form of happiness, like after sharing a burden too long carried in solitude.

Professional creativity is a marathon, not a sprint. I learned this the hard way: in the past, by not recognizing the symptoms of mental fatigue accumulating day after day, I found myself more than once waking up in the morning completely drained of energy. I had to learn to recognize creative exhaustion signals before they manifested: quality decline, procrastination, irritability towards the creative process, lack of concentration. That's why it's fundamental to give oneself discipline and schedule adequate rest periods.

But perhaps even more important is nourishing one's creativity with significant experiences outside the work context. Traveling, partying, going to exhibitions and concerts, meeting new people and creating a network of creative individuals to compare notes with, reading books seemingly unrelated to one's work: these are all precious stimuli that can ignite unexpected ideas. Sometimes just a phrase overheard in a bar or written on a wall can give birth to the writing of a song. Life itself becomes our greatest creative reservoir.

The Creative Journey

In my journey, I've identified three fundamental moments in the creative process. The first is intuition,that spark that can last just an instant, when a vision takes shape in the mind. Here the key is freedom: no self-criticism, no judgments. Only open mindednesss and the ability to dialogue with one's emotions. Sometimes it arrives in the most unexpected moments - during a run, in sleep, while doing something entirely different. That's why I always carry a way to take notes. Sometimes, instead, it's an ability that must be activated on command (especially if done professionally). In this case, it's necessary to develop deep listening and tuning techniques to enter the correct creative state.

Then comes the development phasewhere technique comes into play. It requires time, patience, and the consistency my teacher spoke of. It's the phase where one must learn to manage the frustration of error, take breaks, look at one's work from different perspectives. Finally, there's refinement:the moment of attention to detail, where every element is polished and refined. Sometimes, perfecting a single detail can take as much time as the initial draft.

What I've learned over all these years is that creativity is like a muscle: it must be trained daily. Intuition alone can come and go, but technique, built day by day, allows us to overcome creative crisis moments. Indeed, it's often technique itself that becomes a source of inspiration, allowing us to proceed even when “the muse” seems to have abandoned us.

Creativity is not a gift reserved for a few chosen ones: it's a force that resides in each of us, ready to be discovered and cultivated. One just needs the courage to listen, to face one's shadows, and the consistency to practice every day.