I’ve spent the last week exploring why I get stuck on projects.
Over the last year, I’ve slowed down my experimental installation work, mainly out of fear that my next project will ostracize me from the art world.
I’ve grown out of that now.
Here’s what I’ve learned about living on the edge of a world, already outside of normality.
tl;dr Go further, there is no edge.
Lean
If you've ever climbed or abseiled, you know exactly how it feels.
Your toes press against cold stone, and your fingers grip the rope so tight they're numb.
Your heartbeat accelerates as adrenaline floods your system.
Above, your instructor's voice echoes down, shouting encouragements you barely hear through your panic: "Lean back! Trust the rope!"
Yet, instinctively, you resist.
Your mind searches frantically for excuses to stay attached to the safety of the cliff.
You cling tighter, desperately looking for tiny handholds, little ledges, anything to convince yourself you’re still in control.
It feels irrational to rely entirely on a thin rope suspended in space.
And yet, everything meaningful lies beyond that moment of surrender.
Finally, in a breathless instant of clarity or exhaustion, you lean back.
The rope tightens and effortlessly takes your weight.
You hang in the void, suddenly realizing your perceived control was an illusion all along.
The edge, as intimidating as it seemed, was less about falling.
And more about your need to feel completely safe by clinging to certainty.
Structures
Edges aren’t merely geographic or physical.
They exist in every facet of human thought and innovation.
The edge of a cliff, the edge of the known universe, or the edge of accepted wisdom, each represents boundaries we construct through belief and habit.
But these boundaries aren't discovered; they’re created.
Every accepted norm, every common belief, is a wall built from collective consensus.
As artists, scientists, explorers, or creators, we naturally stumble upon edges; after all, at our core, we’re all trying to push them further outward.
Each step toward the unknown requires building new forms of trust and belief, forming new foundations that can sustain risk and uncertainty.
At these edges, our common lexicon and language begins to fail.
How does one say something that hasn’t been said before?
New ideas seem alien or incomprehensible.
Initially, discoveries speak no familiar language, appearing foreign and strange.
But this is precisely where and how innovation occurs.
The difficulties and desire to communicate something novel push us to grow as a species, and when we get good at it
We realize these edges aren't dangerous cliffs to avoid but essential steps toward genuine breakthroughs.
They help us shift our understanding from climbing familiar paths to adopting entirely new systems for growth.
Centre
There's undeniable comfort in conformity.
Buying the course, following someone else's proven method, adopting a popular trend.
It’s attractive because it promises safety, clarity, and immediate validation.
For a while, the world rewards you.
You rise within social algorithms, gain followers, and stabilize comfortably within consensus.
Yet conformity, while clear and easily communicable, comes at a profound cost.
It discourages genuine exploration and authentic expression.
The desire for widespread understanding and acceptance inevitably pulls you away from the frontier of innovation.
It nudges you toward predictable, manageable outcomes, preventing you from exploring genuinely new ideas or perspectives.
True innovation demands risking misunderstanding and alienation.
To build something authentically yours, you must place your bricks far beyond the established boundaries.
It’s not an easy path, and the rewards come infrequently and late.
But along the way, we develop entirely new ways of thinking, communicating, and living.
And it’s this act of creating at the edges, initially incomprehensible, that eventually redefines what's possible and acceptable.
Costs
Life at the fringes of understanding or innovation is demanding.
Intellectually
Emotionally
Socially
The further you venture from accepted norms, the harder it becomes for others to comprehend your actions and motivations.
If you discuss wealth honestly, people accuse you of being disconnected.
Talk genuinely about poverty, and you're labeled performative.
Create daring art, and you're considered indulgent or self-absorbed.
The edge can quickly isolate you, creating barriers that prevent easy dialogue with those who stay closer to familiar ground.
People pioneering new ideas and practices, whether astronauts adapting to zero-gravity, deep-sea divers breathing compressed gases, or artists exploring radical new aesthetics, must develop entirely new skills and languages to navigate their unique environments.
Along the way, they risk misunderstanding, ridicule, or outright rejection.
Yet these very challenges…
This isolation and loneliness.
Are necessary.
They force innovation and clarity of vision.
Without these uncomfortable conditions, groundbreaking insights rarely happen.
Our relationship to Solitude and isolation flips.
Instead of some natural plight of the journey.
It becomes the only logical route to genuine growth and discovery.
Distance
I have a good friend from the military who lives in a small African nation struggling to manage its resources, plagued by conflict and instability.
He, like many of my friends, has side projects.
Somehow, they always seem more critical…
He’s been building schools for a few years now.
Recently, one school's roof was ripped off by violent weather.
When he asked for support, I hesitated; it felt futile, like whatever I could give was merely a symbolic gesture that lacked real impact.
I couldn’t relate.
I wanted to.
Something felt like it wasn’t true.
But it was.
In my heart, I trust him.
But my insecurities over the value of my contribution and how it would be used stopped me.
Even after I gave what I could, I felt helpless.
Should I do more, could I?
Would it even matter…
My friend's reality is vastly different from mine, filled with urgent survival struggles unfamiliar to me.
Our conversations are filtered through radically different lived experiences, each of us standing on our distinct edge.
This inability to communicate fully, despite good intentions, mirrors the broader human condition: the farther we stray from common experiences, the harder we must work to find shared understanding.
Yet, it is precisely in these difficult spaces.
These zones of tension, dissonance, and misunderstanding
That meaningful growth and innovation occur.
Our attempts to bridge these gaps, however inadequate, become the very acts that expand our collective potential.
Jump
We’re all standing at our own edge, gripping tightly onto hesitation.
Our ideas feel unfinished, our plans continually delayed by self-doubt.
We've mentally rehearsed this leap so often that the imagined dangers have grown sharper, clearer, and more intimidating with each repetition.
Reality is deeper: our fears, however powerful, aren’t uniquely ours.
Every pioneer, innovator, and creator before us has faced precisely this moment of uncertainty.
The anxiety of stepping into the unknown, the dread of losing security, and the unsettling feeling of isolation.
It’s not that we are unprepared or inadequate; it’s that we have begun to see the indicators that tell us we’re breaking new ground.
The edge isn’t as solitary as it feels.
It’s crowded with the echoes of countless others who stood exactly where we're standing now.
Every significant breakthrough in art, technology, or human thought started here, with someone exactly like us, willing to leave the comfort of the familiar behind.
Understanding this won’t erase our fear or instantly dissolve our hesitation.
But it will reframe our experience, reminding us that we're part of a larger, ongoing story of human courage and creativity.
The edge isn’t the end; it’s the start of everything meaningful.
Write
Publishing authentically means accepting vulnerability and imperfection.
The act of sharing incomplete or flawed ideas is what allows others to see themselves reflected honestly.
Authenticity isn't just reckless disclosure
It's about genuine connection through shared uncertainty.
Maybe I’m telling myself more than you…
Jumping into uncertainty isn't merely about bravery or impulsiveness.
It’s a conscious, deliberate internal shift toward prioritizing authenticity over approval.
This internal realignment is challenging and requires continuous effort, constantly reassessing your values against external expectations.
The edge can appear chaotic and reckless, but to survive, it takes discipline and courage.
It's a commitment to remain authentic despite potential misunderstanding, isolation, or discomfort.
The edge and leaping over it isn’t a single act of bravery but a sustained, thoughtful exploration of authenticity.
Like us, the edge we see evolves continuously.
Each moment presents new choices, requiring ongoing negotiation between personal truth and societal expectations.
This process is non-linear, it’s complex and difficult to understand, nuanced, and deeply human.
Yet it is precisely this continuous negotiation that enriches our understanding and expands our creative potential.
And the ability to leap, knowing that there will be more edges to find, is the only skill we need to keep growing.
Whatever you’re working on.
Know that if it’s getting tough,
It’s getting good.
Good luck this week,
If you’re planning anything like me,
We’ll need it…
Nothing but love
-R
Poets Corner
Fall/Jump
Believing the earth is flat.
I always thought
I was smarter than that.
I always thought
it a roundabout stroll.
Until the day I started to fall
from the flatness of plains
suspended on straights
above all depth.
There is nothing there
to do but to jump
as soon as you reach the edge.
- Thomas May
p.s. Sorry, this one came out late. I went to a Sharon Eyal show, and it blew my mind. If you like contemporary dance or feelings and get to see her work - do it.
If you liked this post hit like and say hi in the comments, it helps me stay sane