On Constraints in Creativity

“Incurably insomniac, Anton Vowl turns on a light. According to his watch it’s only 12:20. With a loud and languorous sigh Vowl sits up, stuffs a pillow at his back, draws his quilt up around his chin, picks up his whodunit and idly scans a paragraph or two; but, judging its plot impossibly difficult to follow in his condition, its vocabulary too whimsically multisyllabic for comfort, throws it away in disgust.”

HERE BEGINS THE translation of Georges Perec’s 1969 French novel, La Disparition, called A Void in Gilbert Adair’s adept English version. If the mystery novel the protagonist is reading is hard to follow, so too we, as readers, may struggle with Perec.

Why?

In 1967, Perec joined a society called the OuLiPo (pronounced “oo-lee-poh”). OuLiPo is short for Ouvroir de Litterature Potentielle (Potential Literature Workshop). Established in the 1960s, it considers challenges to various literary genres and then invites members to devise solutions. Raymond Queneau formed the group after working on a sonnet cycle of ten poems whose verses are interchangeable—every first line can replace every other first line, as can every second line, and so on. It’s called One Hundred Thousand Billion Poems (Cent mille milliards de poèmes).

It’s a marvel.

Why?

Look closely at the passage above: Notice that the opening paragraph—like the entire text—is a lipogram on the letter E. The titles of the novel in both languages point to something missing—a void. That all-important letter, the most common in both English and French, does not appear. Reading further, we learn that Mr. Vowl himself vanishes, the fifth chapter is blank (in deference to the letter E’s position in the alphabet), and that we are ultimately learning of the deportation and extermination of French Jews by the Nazis. Things move fast.

Now what?

As a scholar specializing in mid-twentieth century France, I have long been intrigued by the OuLiPo. Additional inspiration came from my study of genetic criticism with Eugène Nicole at New York University and the work of a colleague from Barnard College, Dr. Patricia Stokes. In addition, I have a background in dance and theater and perform with an Oklahoma City-based Irish pub band, so my interest in the performing arts has also informed my approach. With support from my department, I proposed an interdisciplinary course based on the OuLiPo.

Then what?

Creativity is not made of writing alone! Subsequent units include Visual Art, Architecture, Film, Music, Design, and Theater and Dance. Choctaw artist d.g. smalling will share his approach with the class. Made famous by Picasso, he uses a one-line, continuous technique in which his pen remains on the paper from start to finish, resulting in remarkable drawings that he later fills with color. His subjects center on Native peoples and the animals important to their culture, including bison and horses.

The performing arts involve a host of constraining factors, including venue, size, and scale. During the Covid-19 pandemic, choreographer Twyla Tharp created a quartet for dancers locked down in different physical spaces—and different time zones—over Zoom. This work became the centerpiece of the recent documentary, Twyla Moves. While Tharp has created site-specific pieces in the past, this dance was born of constraints imposed by circumstance.

Then what?

While exploring these various disciplines throughout the semester, my students develop final projects based on constraints of their choosing. Alternatively, they research an artist or art form that involves constraints. The latter option has inspired presentations on Moroccan architecture, Senegalese sabar, and the painter Piet Mondrian.

Creative works include a model set designed for multiple productions, a piano composition based on the soundtrack from Amélie, and a short film called Sextuplets in which a single actress interprets the six course units. There have been book chapters, sonnet cycles, and a children’s story; we have seen music videos, board games, and visual pieces ranging from graphic novels to oil paintings and from collages to a cereal box. Performances have included theatrical and dance pieces. The quality of student work has been consistently astonishing, especially considering that many have heretofore had limited exposure to these disciplines.

So what?

I asked alumni of the course to reflect on its impact over time. They reported not so much about the particular disciplines or projects, but that the approach has stayed with them, whether they have become teachers, or attorneys, or doctoral students. One commented, “This class helped me see that constraints, limits, restrictions, or whatever you want to call them, are the Petri dish of creation.” Sometimes, we can come up with the most “out-of-the-box” ideas by putting ourselves inside a particular box. I can’t wait to see what my students come up with next.