Creativity Squared: Striving For Perfection with Eileen Hogan

It’s not how you think but why you think it. It’s not how someone interprets creative, but why they interpret it that way. It’s the deeper meaning behind the obvious one. And even the most seemingly shallow of a person, place, thing, or idea will always hold a deeper meaning…a why.

I belong to the school of thought which believes in multiple truths at once. And it’s defined me as I’ve settled into myself and my career. An introverted extrovert, a Type A creative, and a mentally messy but spatial clean freak. I worship my regimented mornings then allow myself to wonder as the day wears, following wherever the evenings may take me. I find that not leaning completely into one human truth or theme allows us the space to test and learn ourselves.

Sure, I failed at Nara Smith’s homemade cheez-its, but I just made the cutest miniature pig out of air-dry clay. Win some, lose some, lose some more. But when we resist the urge to hinge our self-worth on one particular talent, trait or task, the levity that comes is pretty darn joyful.

In a creative career, it’s easy to view our output as a marker for success. Oh, it didn’t see Times Square? Instead of Cannes it ended up in the can?

We not only feel like we’ve failed at our job, but that the thing that was hatched from our very own brain, wasn’t good enough. The sooner I embraced the idea of subjectivity and two truths being possible at the same time, the sooner I had the freedom to play. Because sure, the client may have thought it was an absolute dumpster fire, but me and my opinion of the work? That’s mine.

It’s not the person that I am, but why I’m that person.

I judge a creative product by its duality. An idea that’s just smart? Half-witted. A concept that’s only funny? Falls flat. It needs to be smart and funny. It needs to be light and dark. It needs both stillness and movement. A deeper reason. Multidimensional. If its intention is to resonate with more than just one person, it needs duality. Because human nature is just that.

And sure, a 'Hawk Tua' TikTok or '6’5 blue eyes' spoof might seem inconsequential, but why did we post it? What did we want people to feel about the brand when they posted it? It’s that extra mile of consideration that makes space for duality and ultimately, the work successful.

It’s not the product or the creative, but how and why the creative came to be.

I think any great body of work begins with a strategic insight. Sure, let’s talk about KPIs, but as creatives, it’s our job to prioritise the 'why’s'. Something that goes deeper than selling cereal or BOGO area rugs. What’s the human truth we’re after? Is it giving the consumer permission to heal their inner child and only eat the marshmallows? Is it giving them the ability to sweep more sh*t under twice the amount of rug?

As creatives, introspection is key to the concepting process. We all have different experiences. Cultures. Vantages. What can I bring creatively that no one else will? And furthermore, how can we collectively create a body of work that represents more than just one lived experience?

…While also pleasing the powers that be. There’s gotta be push and pull throughout. Cam-on head nods and, “sure, we can combine those ideas.” But also, moments of steadfast conviction. Of defending the integrity of the creative and just plain old-fashioned showmanship. Leadership. Persuasion. Selling.

It’s not the process of getting the work done, but why we’re doing the work in the first place.

Being a creative requires mental fortitude. You’ll endure a death of the ego on the daily. Your brain child, poked and prodded in front of rooms of strangers. Broken into a million pieces then put back together in a way that resembles that of a horror movie. And then you gotta laugh it off, and wake up, and do it again.

And that requires brazen confidence.

I grew up in an idyllic home, with loving parents and the quintessential, perfectionist older sister. She was a straight A, type A, near-perfect human. Now, a successful doctor, a beautiful wife, and an it-comes-second-nature kinda mom. She built the perfect life she always wanted. But with her desire for perfection, also came an immense fear of failure.

During my most formative years, I watched her tears fall over jeans that weren’t long enough for her 6ft, graceful frame and on boys that did the bare minimum. At times, I saw her dim her neon as a result of the very pressures she placed upon herself. And as I grew into my own, I realised I couldn’t compete with her. Or the mythical destination that was perfection. So why not do it my way? I recognised that being perfect was actually the thief of true contentment and creativity. And boy, was I far from perfect.

So out of reach from it, that brazen confidence almost came easily to me. It was the early acceptance of failure in contrast to my perceived perfection of her that shaped me. And as creatives, we fail every day. And every day we get back up, dust our knees off, and start a new deck. Because no one idea or social post or campaign or TV spot is ever perfect.

It’s not the current shape I reflect now, it’s how I was shaped.