Making room for the non creative a cultural psychological perspective
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<Title>
Making
room
for
the
‘non-‐creative’?
A
cultural
psychological
perspective
<Author>
Vlad
Petre
Glaveanu
<Affiliation>
Aalborg
University
<Abstract>
This
chapter
asks
the
question
‘what
is
non-‐creative?’
and
tries
to
answer
it
from
the
perspective
of
cultural
psychology.
It
is
argued
that,
while
current
scientific
and
lay
understandings
tend
to
make
creativity
the
exception
within
daily
life,
cultural
psychologists
are
inclined
to
think
differently.
Theorised
as
acting
in
the
world
by
either
widening
or
reducing
three
main
types
of
difference
–
between
self
and
other,
between
sign
and
object,
and
between
past,
present,
and
future
–
creativity
emerges
as
a
quality
intrinsic
to
human
action.
On
the
contrary,
the
‘non-‐creative’
is
associated,
within
this
view,
with
an
active
denial
of
difference,
something
specific,
among
others,
to
the
logic
of
totalitarianism,
formalism,
and
assessment.
It
is
argued,
in
the
end,
that
‘making
room’
for
the
‘non-‐creative’
in
our
theories
is
a
necessity
since
this
category
not
only
helps
us
preserve
the
meaning
of
creativity
but
demonstrates
why
creativity
is,
in
fact,
fundamental
for
our
dignity
and
humanity.
<Paper>
The
term
creativity
undeniably
became
very
popular
in
recent
decades
in
both
scientific
and
lay
discourses.
Often
paired
up
with
innovation,
these
are
some
of
the
most
common
words
one
finds
in
educational
and
governmental
policies,
not
to
mention
the
sector
of
art
and
technology.
It
is
so
frequently
used
in
fact
that
unthinking
repetition
risks
making
the
word
ultimately
useless
(Williams,
1961).
Indeed,
the
presumed
importance
of
creativity
for
individuals,
communities,
and
society
as
a
whole
is
widely
recognised
and
this
importance
resides
in
the
fact
that
creativity
is
assumed
to
generate
value,
including
economic
value
(see
for
instance
research
on
‘creative
industries’;
Caves,
2000).
In
this
context,
in
both
science
and
everyday
life,
creativity
moves
from
being
an
attribute
to
becoming
an
format
the
next
word
in
italics>
ideal,
something
that
needs
to
be
not
only
studied
but
the
next
word
in
italics>
promoted.
Among
the
few
topics
in
science
to
be
invested
with
‘moral’
value,
creativity
is
all
about
generating
novelty
that
makes
a
positive
change
in
the
world
(for
exceptions
see
Cropley,
Cropley,
Kaufman
&
Runco,
2010).
But
in
order
to
promote
creativity
we
must
first
be
able
to
identify
it
and
this,
in
turn,
requires
us
to
the
next
word
in
italics>
define
it.
There
are
plenty
of
definitions
of
this
phenomenon
in
the
psychology
of
creativity,
usually
focused
on
the
creative
product.
Stein
(1953,
p.
311)
proposed
that
“creative
work
is
a
novel
work
that
is
accepted
as
tenable
or
useful
or
1
satisfying
by
a
group
in
some
point
in
time”.
The
‘double’
criterion
of
novelty
and
utility
helps
differentiate
creativity
from
those
habitual
acts
that
may
be
valuable
but
are
not
novel,
as
well
as
the
vast
number
of
products
that
are
simply
bizarre
or
have
no
obvious
social
value
(e.g.
children’s
expressions,
dreams,
etc.).
Moreover,
there
is
a
clear
assumption
that
creative
outcomes
describe
a
the
next
word
in
italics>
continuum.
There
are
creations
that
may
be
important
for
the
person,
for
instance
they
help
the
individual
reach
a
solution
others
already
know.
And
there
are
creative
acts
that
leave
their
mark
on
the
knowledge
of
large
groups;
for
example,
celebrated
inventions
or
artworks.
The
above
‘ends’
of
the
creativity
continuum
were
referred
to
by
Boden
(1994)
as
the
P-‐creative
(creative
for
the
person)
and
the
H-‐creative
(creative
on
a
historical
scale)
respectively.
In
fact,
these
contrasting
examples
are
so
extreme
that
one
might
wonder
if
we
are
still
referring
to
the
same
phenomenon.
There
is
a
long
history
in
psychology,
and
not
only,
of
focusing
on
the
highly
creative
at
the
expense
of
the
mundane
and
associating
‘pure’
creative
expression
with
the
figure
of
the
genius
or
the
eminent
individual
(Glaveanu,
2010).
And
it
is
this
kind
of
essentialist
and
exclusivist
view
of
what
creativity
is
that
explains,
at
least
in
part,
our
societal
the
next
word
in
italics>
fascination
with
it.
While
most
would
agree
that
everyone
has
at
least
the
potential
for
creativity,
what
we
expect
of
the
people
actually
called
creative
is
to
make
visible
and
long-‐lasting
contributions.
This
pervasive
association
between
creativity
and
genius
or
creativity
and
radical
change
has
also
deep
consequences
for
how
we
identify
it.
Unsurprisingly,
the
most
common
assumption
in
both
science
and
applied
fields
is
that
the
next
five
words
in
italics>
we
don’t
have
enough
creativity,
that
we
live
in
cultures
of
conformity
(Sternberg
&
Lubart,
1995)
that
crush
creative
initiatives
and
lead
us
towards
living
unauthentic,
boring,
passive
lives.
Often
schools
are
accused
of
being
the
instrument
of
such
conformist
cultures,
of
discouraging
creativity
at
an
age
when
it
should
be
flourishing
(see
Fasko,
2001).
If
creative
expression
is
all
about
risk-‐taking,
challenging
norms,
and
going
against
the
habitual,
then
certainly
not
many
people
can
be
said
to
act
creatively.
Of
course,
such
reasoning
is
flawed.
To
begin
with,
it
promotes
a
view
of
creativity
as
something
that
only
a
few
are
capable
of
and,
in
an
effort
to
promote
it,
in
fact
makes
it
more
and
more
out
of
reach.
Second,
at
a
practical
level,
one
should
imagine
how
a
school
would
be
like,
for
instance,
if
populated
only
by
highly
creative
students
and
teachers
according
to
the
understanding
referred
to
above.
Third,
and
most
importantly
for
the
present
chapter,
this
view
portrays
creativity
as
the
the
next
word
in
italics>
exception
in
human
life
and
the
‘non-‐creative’
as
the
default
mode
of
our
existence.
It
is
precisely
this
last
point
that
I
want
to
challenge
here
with
the
means
of
cultural
psychology.
The
argument
I
will
make
is
that
things
are
exactly
the
other
way
around:
the
next
16
words
in
italics>
creativity
is
intrinsic
to
our
human
existence
2
while
the
‘non-‐creative’
is
rare,
an
almost
hypothetical
construct.
In
the
end,
however,
I
will
argue
(creatively?)
that
we
need
to
make
an
effort
to
‘save’
the
category
of
the
‘non-‐creative’,
to
make
room
for
it
within
cultural
psychological
theory
because
this
is
the
only
way
to
properly
understand
the
true
importance
of
creativity
for
individuals,
society
and
culture.
<1.0>
Identifying
the
‘non-‐creative’
It
might
seem
at
first
that
detecting
the
‘non-‐creative’
is
more
than
straightforward.
As
argued
above,
the
comparison
term
for
creativity
is
often
high
performance
and
revolutionary
achievement
so,
through
this
prism,
the
‘non-‐creative’
seems
to
engulf
all
of
everyday
life.
Think
for
instance
about
what
you
did
yesterday.
Most
probably
you
spent
a
considerable
amount
of
time
doing
‘normal’,
typical
activities
like
walking,
cooking,
cleaning,
greeting
other
people,
etc.
These
types
of
mundane
activities
don’t
usually
end
up
being
novel,
original,
and
useful
(or
they
might
be
useful
but
certainly
not
very
original).
Going
back
to
the
school
example,
where
is
the
creativity
in
teaching
the
same
content
in
the
same
way
year
after
year
and
expecting
pupils
to
memorise
and
present
it
back
to
the
teacher?
Teaching
based
on
problem
solving
can
be
a
solution
but,
even
in
this
case,
the
‘products’
of
learning
are
not
original
enough:
pupils
get
to
know
what
everybody
else
does
or
should
know.
Of
course,
such
assumptions
are
being
contested
today
and
the
present
chapter
will
contribute
to
this
critique.
It
is
not
surprising
to
find
that
most
people
would
agree
with
the
fact
that
they
might
show
some
spontaneity
in
their
everyday
activity
(an
expression
of
‘little-‐c’
creativity;
Craft,
2001),
but
are
reluctant
to
consider
themselves
‘creative’
in
a
more
substantial
sense
(Big-‐C
creativity)
(see
Karwowski,
2009).
This,
of
course,
does
not
mean
they
see
themselves
as
lacking
all
creative
potential,
but
it
does
indicate
that
we
often
draw
a
(too)
sharp
line
between
‘higher’
and
‘lower’
creativity.
And
this
despite
current
scholarship
arguing
that,
in
fact,
the
processes
specific
for
creative
thought
are
not
dependent
on
level
of
achievement
(Weisberg,
1993).
Both
geniuses
and
‘average’
individuals,
when
creative,
associate
or
combine
ideas,
but
‘non-‐creative’
thought
relies
more
on
stereotypical
associations
and
algorithms
for
solving
problems.
It
might
be
highly
effective
in
dealing
with
existing
obstacles
but
produces
nothing
new.
What
makes
it
easy
to
spot
the
‘non-‐creative’
is
the
clarity,
but
also
rarity,
with
which
the
highly
creative
presents
itself.
Some
of
the
first
studies
of
creativity
in
psychology
considered
the
life
and
work
of
recognised
creators
in
the
arts
and
sciences,
either
by
analysing
their
outcomes
or
conducting
psycho-‐biographies.
This
is
certainly
not
a
thing
of
the
past
and,
in
recent
decades,
some
of
the
best
known
books
in
the
field
focused
on
‘exemplary
creators’
in
an
effort
to
uncover
their
3
characteristics
(see
for
example
Gardner,
1993;
Csikszentmihalyi,
1996).
There
are
several
direct
benefits
associated
with
exploring
in
detail
the
activity
of
recognised
creators.
To
begin
with,
it
helps
us
solve
the
criterion
problem
as
nobody
would
doubt
these
individual
are
or
were
in
fact
creative.
Second,
this
study
of
high-‐level
creativity
can
perhaps
tell
us
something
central
about
the
phenomenon,
it
might
reveal
the
‘core’
of
what
it
means
to
create.
Even
if
these
core
elements
might
not
be
available
to
everyone
(in
the
end,
we
do
have
only
one
Freud
or
Einstein),
at
least
we
will
be
able
to
understand
better
what
creativity
is
all
about.
And
if
we
study
the
personality
or
cognition
of
these
creators
perhaps
we
can
build
general
profiles
for
different
domains
that
could
ultimately
be
used
as
diagnostic
tools.
Of
course,
many
of
these
aims
remain
desirable
end-‐points
and
need
more
research
to
materialise.
But,
on
the
other
hand,
they
also
serve
to
show
us
clearly
what
socially
recognised
creativity
is
and
place
it
in
sharp
contrast
to
the
‘non-‐creative’.
How
is
the
‘non-‐creative’
identified
though
in
the
case
of
lower-‐level
creative
achievement?
Today,
the
notion
of
creativity
has
been
‘democratised’
(Bilton,
2007)
but
how
exactly
is
this
more
‘mundane’
creativity
detected?
Let’s
take
the
case
of
creativity
tests,
most
of
which
are
considered
to
evaluate
creative
potential
rather
than
actual
achievement.
One
very
well-‐known
set
of
measures
are
the
Torrance
Tests
of
Creative
Thinking
(TTCT;
see
Torrance,
1966),
widely
applied
in
schools
but
also
work
contexts
around
the
globe.
Based
on
a
definition
of
creativity
as
divergent
thinking,
they
invite
respondents
to
generate
as
many
creative
ideas
as
they
can
in
response
to
verbal
or
non-‐
verbal
stimuli.
The
results
are
scored
typically
for
fluency
(number
of
ideas),
flexibility
(number
of
different
categories
of
ideas),
originality
(rarity
of
ideas),
and
elaboration
(how
developed
the
ideas
are).
Let
us
focus
on
the
criterion
of
originality,
central
for
current
definitions
of
creativity.
What
is
an
original
/
creative
idea?
One
that
was
not
formulated
by
many
others
when
answering
the
test.
Conversely,
a
‘non-‐creative’
idea
is
a
common
one
and
examples
of
such
widespread
ideas
are
listed
in
the
TTCT
manual.
Being
‘non-‐creative’
is
thus
described
by
being
the
next
three
words
in
italics>
similar
or
identical
to
others,
their
thinking
and
action.
In
general,
creativity
researchers
would
agree
that
people
are
not
(or
are
less)
creative
when
they
reproduce
what
others
are
doing,
even
when
they
reproduce
what
they
themselves
did
in
the
past.
But
such
an
assumption
is
deeply
problematic
as
human
life,
at
both
the
level
of
the
individual
and
society,
is
marked
by
regularity
and
often
drives
people
towards
‘sameness’.
Once
more,
the
‘non-‐creative’
appears
as
the
rule
rather
than
the
exception
of
our
existence.
<2.0>
Revising
the
‘non-‐creative’:
The
contribution
of
cultural
psychology
4
As
described
before,
my
aim
here
is
to
reverse
this
relationship
between
the
creative
and
the
‘non-‐
creative’
and
‘democratise’
creativity
even
further
through
a
thorough
‘socialisation’
of
the
concept
(see
also
Vygotsky,
1991).
In
order
to
reveal
the
intrinsic
creativity
of
our
action
and
experience
in
and
of
the
world
we
need
however
new
theoretical
lenses,
different
from
the
usual
cognitive
and
psychometric
ones
that
define
much
of
today’s
psychology
of
creativity.
Cultural
psychology
is
a
discipline
that
is
primarily
concerned
with
emergence
and
developmental
phenomena
(Valsiner,
2007).
Although
not
many
cultural
psychologists
discuss
creativity
per
se
(mostly
due
to
its
individualistic
overtones...),
they
are
concerned
with
knowledge
construction
and
meaning-‐making,
improvisation
and
action,
imagination
and
everyday
life.
From
this
perspective,
creativity
is
not
a
mental,
individual
process
but
the
next
five
words
in
italics>
a
quality
of
human
action
that
captures
its
flexibility,
intersubjective
nature,
and
value
for
both
self
and
others.
This
is
also
the
pragmatist
position
(see
Joas,
1996)
that
considers
how
acting
is
always
situated
and,
as
such,
responsive
to
constant
changes
in
the
environment.
As
the
most
basic
level
we
can
understand
creativity
as
our
capacity
to
live,
adapt,
and
grow
within
a
world
that
is
constantly
in
motion,
marked
by
the
passing
of
irreversible
time.
Acting
in
and
on
this
world
and
creating
meaning
about
it
necessarily
has
to
take
into
account
the
next
word
in
italics>
sociality
(self
–
other
relations),
the
next
word
in
italics>
materiality
(sign
–
object
relations)
and
the
next
word
in
italics>
temporality
(the
relation
between
past,
present,
and
future)
(see
also
Glaveanu,
2014).
These
are
all
captured
by
a
basic
cultural
psychological
framework
presented
in
Figure
1:
Figure
1.
Creatogenetic
differences,
a
cultural
psychological
model
(from
Glaveanu
&
Gillespie,
2014)
5
The
model
above
highlights
three
important
‘differences’
in
the
genesis
of
creativity
(for
details
see
Glaveanu
&
Gillespie,
2014).
In
essence,
what
this
perspective
argues
is
that
without
these
differences
there
would
be
no
(possibility
for)
creative
expression,
although
they
are
necessary
but
not
sufficient
conditions
for
creative
acts
to
occur.
Creativity
becomes
impossible
in
a
world
where
the
self
is
not
differentiated
from
others,
where
signs
and
objects
have
a
one-‐to-‐one
relationship,
and
there
are
no
temporal
changes.
One
might
object
that,
in
such
a
world,
it
would
be
impossible
for
psychological
life
to
develop
more
broadly,
and
this
cannot
be
contested.
However,
there
is
something
particularly
important
about
creativity
in
relation
to
these
three
types
of
‘difference’.
Werner
and
Kaplan
(1963)
proposed
a
similar
model
to
theorise
symbol
formation
and,
indeed,
there
is
a
close
connection,
from
a
cultural
psychological
perspective,
between
the
the
next
four
words
in
italics>
symbolic
function
and
creativity.
The
capacity
to
acquire,
generate
and
use
/
transform
symbols
is
at
the
core
of
creative
expression
as
it
involves
the
action
of
the
self,
always
in
relation
with
others,
within
the
context
of
the
material
world
and
its
inherent
temporal
flow.
Following
Winnicott
(1971),
we
can
see
how
the
emergence
of
the
first
symbols
used
by
the
child,
opening
up
what
he
called
the
third
or
potential
space
of
existence,
represents
the
first
manifestation
of
both
creativity
and
culture.
After
the
quadratic
universe
of
self,
other,
object,
sign
comes
into
existence
it
continues
to
‘expand’
in
order
for
the
person
to
both
accumulate
from
and
add
to
the
cultural
life
of
his/her
community.
What
exactly
is
the
movement
specific
for
creativity
within
the
socio-‐material-‐temporal
world?
Most
would
believe,
based
on
existing
conceptions
and
definitions,
that
to
demonstrate
this
quality
one
should
try
to
the
next
word
in
italics>
increase
the
‘distance’
between
self
and
other
(by
generating
perspectives
that
are
not
easy
to
reconcile),
sign
and
object
(by
violating
conventions
about
their
relationship),
and
between
past,
present,
and
future
(by
breaking
with
what
already
exists
and
being
oriented
towards
the
‘not-‐yet
there’).
This
is,
for
instance,
one
of
the
essential
features
of
artistic
expression.
Successful
artists
often
defy
the
expectations
of
their
audience,
re-‐create
meaning
about
the
objects
they
work
on,
and,
when
part
of
the
avant-‐garde,
challenge
the
‘past’
and
its
institutionalised
forms.
Conversely,
it
might
be
assumed
that
the
contrary
move
of
the
next
word
in
italics>
bridging
the
‘gaps’
inscribed
within
the
three
axes
of
Figure
1
will
result
in
non
or
less
creative
action.
For
instance,
the
attempt
to
make
the
views
of
self
and
other
more
uniform,
to
stabilise
the
meaning
of
objects,
to
generate
a
solid
continuity
between
present
and
past.
Where
is
the
creativity
in
this
case?
Specific
for
a
cultural
psychology
approach
is
the
fact
that
it
recognises
the
creative
value
of
actions
that,
otherwise,
seem
uncreative.
Let’s
take
the
very
mundane
example
of
writing
a
report
for
work,
describing
in
detail
what
has
been
discussed
during
a
certain
meeting.
Surely
there
are
few
6
less
exciting
tasks
than
this
one
and
many
would
quickly
catalogue
such
an
activity
as
mindless,
routine,
fundamentally
‘non-‐creative’.
And
yet,
let
us
consider
it
from
the
socio-‐material-‐temporal
perspective
developed
here.
What
is
essential
in
this
activity
is
the
person’s
effort
to
‘transcribe’,
in
the
most
accurate
manner,
what
had
happened
during
the
meeting.
As
such,
the
person
needs,
based
on
notes
and
memory,
to
produce
a
report
that
will
be
scrutinised
by
others
in
light
of
their
own
notes,
memories,
and
interests.
Negotiating
differences
in
perspective
and
coming
to
an
agreement
often
takes
place
in
a
more
or
less
explicit
manner.
Second,
the
person
in
question
needs
to
find
the
best
semiotic
means
to
describe
the
world.
From
the
choice
of
words
to
organising
the
narrative
thread,
these
are
potentially
challenging
tasks,
especially
for
a
novice.
In
essence,
the
signs
and
symbols
used
will
strive
to
capture
reality
but
there
can
never
be
a
perfect
alignment
between
world
and
its
re-‐presentation.
Finally,
as
time
passes,
self,
others
and
objects
change,
the
entire
context
of
writing
the
report
changes
and
its
author
will
have
to
take
this
into
account
(e.g.,
it
would
be
useless
to
finish
this
task
if,
meanwhile,
the
company
goes
bankrupt!).
What
this
example
wanted
to
argue
is
the
fact
that
creativity
is
intrinsic
to
cases
in
which
nothing
‘new’
is
seemingly
generated:
the
effort
to
reproduce
what
exists
is
never
a
duplicate
but
a
the
next
word
in
italics>
re-‐creation
(Ingold
&
Hallam,
2007).
<3.0>
Is
there
room
for
the
‘non-‐creative’
in
cultural
psychology?
One
immediate
question
for
cultural
psychologists
who
use
a
framework
similar
to
the
one
discussed
in
the
previous
section
is:
what
exactly
is
the
‘non-‐creative’?
Is
every
form
of
human
expression
creative
and,
if
so,
doesn’t
this
make
the
concept
useless?
In
other
words,
what
are
the
‘limits’
of
creativity?
(for
similar
concerns
see
Negus
&
Pickering,
2004).
In
answering
this
important
question
we
need
to
make
a
distinction,
similar
to
the
one
made
in
the
psychology
of
creativity
between
potential
and
manifestation.
Saying
that
creativity
is
an
ever-‐present
the
next
word
in
italics>
potential
in
the
case
of
human
action
doesn’t
mean
that
each
and
every
act
will
make
use
of
this
potential
or,
at
least,
make
full
use
of
it.
Going
back
also
to
the
idea
of
a
‘creativity
continuum’
we
can
see
how,
in
some
instances,
our
actions
considerably
diverge
from
what
seemed
to
be
their
‘normal’
path
and
transform
both
person
and
environment.
But,
as
argued
above,
even
those
actions
that
follow
a
well-‐rehearsed
script
cannot
be
denied
any
creativity.
It
is,
in
these
latter
cases,
the
creativity
required
to
adapt
to
ever-‐changing
contexts
marked
by
the
passing
of
time.
What
is
essential
for
the
cultural
psychology
approach
though
is
the
fact
that,
instead
of
operating
with
an
easy
distinction
between
Big-‐C
and
little-‐c,
between
the
‘high’
and
the
‘lower’
level,
it
recognises
the
emergence
of
any
creative
act
within
the
framework
of
self
–
other,
sign
–
object,
7
past
–
present
–
past
depicted
in
Figure
1.
In
this
sense,
both
visibly
creative
acts
and
more
habitual
forms
of
creative
expression
(see
Glaveanu,
2012)
emerge
out
of
a
common
ground
of
social,
symbolic
and
material
relations,
all
organised
within
irreversible
time
(Valsiner,
2007).
And
yet
if,
as
previously
argued,
both
actions
aimed
at
the
next
word
in
italics>
expanding
and
the
next
word
in
italics>
reducing
the
differences
inscribed
into
the
three
‘axes’
should
be
considered
creative,
what
exactly
is
the
‘non-‐creative’?
A
short
answer
is
that,
within
the
logic
of
the
model
presented
here,
the
‘non-‐creative’
emerges
from
an
act
of
the
next
three
words
in
italics>
denying
the
difference
instead
of
acting
on
it.
This
negation
of
difference
does
not
translate
into
identification
as
the
opposite
of
creativity
since,
indeed,
every
creative
act
relies
as
much
on
identity,
repetition
and
stability
as
it
does
on
differentiation,
change
and
transformation.
We
can
think
here
about
the
role
played
by
what
seem
to
be
very
‘stable’
features
of
reality
in
the
creative
process,
for
example
language,
habits
and
traditions.
However,
the
acts
of
identification
that
give
substance
to
the
self
and
allow
us
to
think
using
stable
concepts
recognise,
assume
and
manage
difference
(think
about
identity
formation
as
a
simultaneously
personal
and
social
process).
Equally,
the
mere
existence
and
recognition
of
difference
simply
constitutes
the
premise
for
creativity
but
not
its
realisation
(something
that
raises
the
important
pragmatic
question
of
the
next
three
words
in
italics>
which
differences
actually
end
up
making
a
difference
in
creative
work
and
how).
It
is
precisely
when
the
positions
of
self
and
other,
sign
and
object,
past
and
future
are
made
to
‘collapse’
that
we
are
effectively
denying
the
possibility
of
creative
action.
But,
is
such
a
denial
ever
possible?
Let’s
take
the
example
of
self
–
other
differences
of
position
and
perspective.
This
fundamental
distinction
between
the
‘me’
and
the
‘not-‐me’
is
achieved
early
on
in
development
through
what
Piaget
referred
to
as
decentration
(Piaget,
1954).
Following
the
Piagetian
logic,
such
developmental
achievements
can
never
be
reversed,
at
least
not
under
normal
circumstances.
However,
people
find
other
ways
of
denying
this
differentiation
and,
in
essence,
imposing
their
view
of
reality
on
others
(sometimes
they
are
too
centered
on
their
own
perspective
to
notice
that
such
difference
even
exists!).
In
this
sense,
the
‘non-‐creative’
materialises
in
those
relations
of
power
that
effectively
‘cancel’
the
other
and
his/her
alternative
position
or
perspective.
Interestingly,
there
has
been
research
conducted
regarding
the
relationship
between
creativity
and
the
‘totalitarian
mindset’.
In
the
words
of
Montuori
(2005,
p.
20),
“this
mindset
manifests
in
a
specific
way
of
thinking
and
discourse,
focusing
on
the
elimination
of
ambiguity,
complexity,
and
difference”
and
is,
therefore,
the
antithesis
of
pluralism
and
creativity.
When
placing
totalitarianism
within
inter-‐
personal
relations
we
can
notice
how,
at
times,
we
are
unable
to
entertain
even
the
possibility
of
difference
in
relation
to
a
certain
course
of
action.
Such
reactions
define
the
‘non-‐creative’.
8
With
reference
to
the
sign
–
object
relation,
the
‘non-‐creative’
is
distinguished
by
applying
fixed
meanings
that
lead
to
automatic
action.
The
creativity
of
semiosis
resides
in
the
fact
that
our
contact
with
the
material
and
social
world
is
multiply
and
flexibly
mediated
by
signs
and
symbols.
An
object
might
be
called
differently
in
different
circumstances
(think
for
instance
about
literal
and
metaphorical
uses
of
the
word
‘rose’)
just
as
the
same
sign
can
be
applied
to
a
multitude
of
objects
(and,
indeed,
any
category
of
objects
is
defined
itself
by
variability).
What
is
the
‘non-‐creative’?
In
line
with
Ricoeur’s
(1973)
thinking,
we
can
conceive
a
fully
formal
language,
in
which
there
is
only
one
symbol
representing
one
object,
as
an
ultimate
example.
This
aspect
of
formalism
stands
in
contrast
to
the
dynamic
nature
and
productivity
of
‘natural’
language,
in
Ricoeur’s
terms.
The
latter
is
described
by
its
finitude
but,
simultaneously,
it
is
open
to
an
infinity
of
potential
(creative)
uses.
Finally,
temporal
differences
can
also
be
‘collapsed’
or,
rather,
unified
into
one
single
point
(which
is
not
the
same
as
the
‘eternal’
present).
Human
creativity
relies
on
our
capacity
to
‘travel’,
back
and
forth,
between
past
(even
a
historical
past
we
did
not
witness)
and
future
(again,
also
a
distant
future
long
after
we
are
gone).
These
imaginative
loops
(Zittoun
&
Cerchia,
2013;
Zittoun
&
de
Saint
Laurent,
2014)
open
new
perspectives
for
action
and
make
it,
at
once,
present
in
its
unfolding,
continuous
with
the
past,
and
oriented
towards
the
future.
Our
capacity
to
experience
and
semiotically
construct
multiple
dimensions
in
parallel
to
the
constant
flow
of
irreversible
time
makes
human
beings
capable
of
escaping
the
‘here
and
now’
of
existence.
The
‘non-‐creative’,
in
this
case,
is
represented
precisely
by
being
incapable
of
escaping
a
here
and
now
that
becomes
ubiquitous.
It
means
to
deny
development,
more
specifically,
to
the
next
word
in
italics>
close
developmental
paths.
How
does
this
happen?
We
can
think
for
example
about
psychological
assessment
and
the
common
practice
of
attributing
scores
to
abilities
like
intelligence
and
creativity
itself.
These
forms
of
evaluation
are
a-‐temporal
since,
once
formulated,
they
‘reflect’
the
person
at
time
X
but
not
necessarily
at
time
X+1.
Moreover,
the
results
of
assessment
can
be
used
to
categorise
the
person,
to
place
him
or
her
within
a
certain
educational
or
professional
path
and,
concurrently,
irrevocably
close
potential
futures.
<4.0>
Concluding
remarks
on
why
we
need
to
theorise
the
‘non-‐creative’
My
aim
in
this
chapter
was
to
address
the
question
‘what
can
be
considered
non-‐creative?’
I
have
shown
that
while,
from
both
a
scientific
/
psychological
and
lay
perspective,
the
answer
is
that
many
things
and
people
can
be
described
as
either
less
or
non-‐creative,
a
cultural
psychological
approach
reverses
this
claim.
If
our
existence
as
human
beings
in
a
social,
material,
and
temporal
world
is
described
by
plurality
of
perspectives,
flexible
semiotic
processes,
and
recursive
experience
of
time,
9
then
creativity
becomes
the
norm
and
the
‘non-‐creative’
the
exception.
Any
one
of
our
acts
has
at
least
the
potential
to
be
creative
by
integrating
various
perspective,
re-‐signifying
reality
and
being
oriented
towards
an
essentially
open
future.
But
if
this
is
the
case,
are
we
to
do
away
with
the
category
of
the
‘non-‐creative’
altogether?
Does
it
become
useless
because,
if
so,
the
risk
is
that
its
‘pair’,
the
notion
of
creativity,
might
be
equally
futile
as
a
scientific
and
lay
notion.
Not
only
I
have
tried
above
to
identify
cases
in
which
we
can
legitimately
talk
about
‘non-‐
creative’
action
(or,
better
said,
tendencies,
in
action
and
attitude,
towards
the
‘non-‐creative’),
in
ways
that
‘make
room’
for
it,
but
my
overarching
aim
was
to
show
that
creating
a
space
for
the
‘non-‐
creative’
in
the
cultural
psychology
of
creativity
is
a
theoretical
and
practical
necessity.
Saving
the
‘non-‐creative’
from
its
dissolution
doesn’t
merely
preserve
the
notion
of
creativity
but,
as
conceptualised
here,
demonstrates
its
crucial
role
for
the
life
of
individuals
and
society
as
a
whole.
If
totalitarianism,
formalism
and
assessment
are,
based
on
their
relation
to
difference,
instances
of
the
‘non-‐creative’
(among
others),
then
creativity
has
value
not
only
because
it
generates
novel
and
useful
outcomes
but
because
it
the
next
12
words
in
italics>
preserves
our
dignity
as
human
beings
and
contributes
to
healthy
psychological
living
(see
also
Winnicott,
1971).
To
exist
in
a
world
that
is
plural,
dynamic
and
open-‐ended
is
both
a
prerequisite
for
and
a
consequence
of
us
acting
creatively
in
relation
to
our
own
self,
to
others,
signs,
objects,
to
our
past,
present,
and
future.
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C.
(2007).
Management
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From
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to
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M.
(1994).
What
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E.
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eminent
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