Mastery Haikus: Experimenting with Constraints in the Creative Process
Some poetic fun, expressing mastery within the constraints of the Japanese Haiku
Deliberately imposing constraints on the creative process often leads to interesting results. In music, for example, one could limit the range of sounds, instruments, and harmonic, or melodic variety. Think of the raw stripped-down funk sound that emerged from the musical constraints imposed by James Brown. Or the productions that emerged in 60s rock music when studio engineers were constrained by the limits of four-track tape recording, yet still achieved layers of sound and experimental edits through creative recording ingenuity. Or consider the astonishing fretting speed, style and accuracy of gipsy jazz guitarist Django Reinhardt, constrained to use his only two functioning digits to create licks that leave the hands of full-fingered guitarists falling over themselves.
The limitations of memory size on early sampling machines spurned all sorts of creativity in the breakbeats often used in rap and electro music, creating new sounds that the world would not have known without the limitations of technology. Lo-fi crusty sounds that actually added to the experience of the music. For a fascinating history of breakbeats and the constraints of technology see the video Breakbeat Deconstruction.
“The more constraints one imposes, the more one frees one's self. And the arbitrariness of the constraint serves only to obtain precision of execution.”
Igor Stravinsky
In photography, one popular constraint is the use of a single lens or focal length. This limitation can force photographers to think more creatively about composition and framing, as they have to work with a fixed perspective. Another approach is to constrain the subject matter, experimenting with different angles and details. A further creative constraint is shooting in black and white, which can help photographers focus on the interplay between light and shadow to create a variety of moods.
Constraints are commonly used in the visual arts, such as limiting oneself to a specific colour palette or using certain materials. A fascinating example comes to mind from the many times I’ve trudged over the Millenium Bridge in London on my way to work, encountering hundreds of curious cute little designs under my feet. Further investigations revealed these to be by artist Ben Wilson, restricting himself to creating intricate designs upon the canvas of trodden-in pieces of chewing gum expelled from the grotty mouths of pedestrians traversing the Thames and stamped between the metal grooves of the walkway by the thundering herds of commuters and visitors.
The constraint of limiting the time per move in speed chess creates more mistakes to learn from and will train one’s ability to maintain focus. A game of chess would be no fun without constraints - imagine if all the pieces could move like the queen. This example brings to mind trying to play Snakes and Ladders with my daughter when she was very young. Unhappy with the rules of the game she invented her own - Snakes would send me tumbling down the board, but she was impervious to their effect. While I admire her resistance to authority, I don’t recall particularly enjoying those games. Nonetheless, it will be one of the many stories I can rely on if required to make a speech on her wedding day - I play the long game.
It’s the constraints we face that often make life interesting and force invention. In writing, novelist Ernest Hemmingway is fabled to have written a story containing only six words, “For sale: baby shoes. Never worn.”, in order to win a bet. However, under the scrutiny of Quote Investigator, there is no substantive proof of the veracity of Hemmingway as the originator. Damn you internet, always shattering my illusions.
So let’s refer instead to the writing constraints imposed by Twitter. Originally Tweets were limited to 140 characters, so they could fit into the technical limitations of SMS messages. In 2017 it was expanded to 280 characters. I think I preferred the enforced brevity of 140 characters which would compel a user to think concisely and creatively about how to convey their message.
Another example of creative writing is the lipogram which requires the omission of a certain letter of the alphabet. The author Ernest Vincent Wright actually wrote his 50,000-word novel, Gadsby, without using the most common letter in English prose, the letter ‘e’.
Haiku
The Japanese poetry form of the Haiku imposes minimalistic constraints on the form of the poem, consisting of only three lines and 17 syllables in total. The first line contains five syllables, the second line contains seven syllables, and the third line contains five syllables. Haikus are known for their ability to capture a moment in time and evoke an emotional response in the reader.
The Japanese haiku originated in Japan over 400 years ago, during the Edo period (1603-1868), a time of relative peace and prosperity in Japan. During this period, the merchant class emerged as a new social group, and with their newfound wealth came a desire for cultural pursuits. Haikus became a popular form of literature among the urban elite.
The earliest form of haiku was known as hokku, a style of verse that was written to introduce longer poems, such as renga and renku. Hokku verses were typically composed by a group of poets, with each poet contributing a single verse to the overall poem. The hokku would often set the tone and theme of the poem, and it was considered an honour to be selected to write the first verse.
Over time, hokku evolved into its own distinct form of poetry, with poets focusing on capturing a moment in time or a fleeting emotion. The term "haiku" was first used to describe this form of poetry in the late 19th century, and has been widely used ever since.
One of the most famous Japanese poets associated with the haiku form is Matsuo Basho (1644-1694). Basho is credited with popularising the haiku and turning it into a respected literary form. He is also known for his travel writing, which often included haikus.
Basho's haikus were known for their simplicity and depth of feeling. He focused on capturing the beauty of nature and the emotions that it evokes in humans. One of his most famous haikus is:
An old silent pond
A frog jumps into the pond
Splash! Silence again.
This haiku captures the stillness of a pond and the sudden disruption caused by a frog jumping into it. The silence that follows is palpable and adds to the overall effect of the poem.
The haiku form has also been embraced by poets outside of Japan. In the 20th century, American poets such as Ezra Pound and William Carlos Williams experimented with the form and helped to popularise it in the West. It is with this same spirit that I will audaciously try to apply the constraints of the Haiku to some thinking on mastery - let’s see where this goes:
Mastery Haikus:
The path of mastery
The mind of the beginner
And a dreamer’s heart
A master's wisdom
Built with the humility
From many mistakes
Mastery's beauty
Is found in the surrender
To the work at hand
In the art of life
There is only one practice
Mastering oneself
Mastery's essence
Lies in the dedication
To one's craft and self
Path of mastery
Steady and predictable?
No! A winding road
Mastery's secrets
From ordinary practice
Revealed with patience
Through the artful work
Mastery's power is found
And the world enjoys
Mastery unveiled
From dedicated practice
And the love of craft
The master's focus
Only the present moment
Not the distant goal
Mastery's meaning
Derived from lifelong pursuit
Not the end result
Finding mastery
Struggle willingly embraced
Ego overcome
The hard work is done
Mastery's final reward
Fulfilment bestowed
Loving the plateau
Learning and growth are unseen
Mastery ensues
Mastery is borne
Not of all your achievements
but of your passion
So that was a fun challenge - not sure how profound my mastery haikus were but at least they conform to the required constraints.
I suppose in a way, my whole Substack is a deliberately enforced creative constraint. While I’m free to write about a variety of ideas, I’m limiting myself to always having a mastery container to keep the writing within the theme. Fortunately, thus far, it hasn’t felt too limiting and is actually proving to be a useful springboard into exploring things I would otherwise not have thought about.