Shivers
What goosebumps can teach us about creativity
You know the feeling.
You start listening to a song for the first time and find the hairs on your arms rising up, giving you the chills.
Goosebumps we call it, and funnily enough here in the German-speaking part of Switzerland where I live it’s called Gänsehaut, which translates as goose skin.
Goosebumps happen because the part of the brain that acts as a thermostat sometimes misinterprets intense emotional stimuli as a potential threat.
Panic ensues and an involuntary flight-or-fight response is triggered. Adrenaline is sent through your body, causing tiny muscles in your arms, for example, to contract.
And there you have it, your brain seeing your favourite song as a threat!
Creative thrills
It’s not just music. We can have physical reactions to other creative things, too.
A painting that has you transfixed, goosebumps rising as you stand staring at it, or a poem, the last words of which induce a thrill that feels very physical. A powerful speech can have you fired up in a way you weren’t just a moment before, and a twist in a film, especially one that really tugs at the heartstrings, can have you up and out of your seat in an instant.
Can we guide the goosebumps?
Can we learn how to be the one in control of the goosebumps, those of other people and our own, and should we try?
It’s clear there are certain elements, like the ones above, that can bring them on. But should this be the aim?
I know for myself that if I were to create something with this as the goal I’d probably lose interest pretty quickly. If I knew that in pursuit of hitting a nerve I should move from A to B and then C and so on that, more than likely, the end result would not end up moving anyone at all, including me. And if I’m not moved then it’s a nonstarter.
In other words, it’s highly likely that the pursuit of goosebumps is not going to bring them on. Far better for me to do it in my usual way.
This is a gloriously unpredictable process of sitting at the piano and trying this chord and then that, wondering what I should do next, backtracking, getting fed up, sometimes starting again, and so on.
But creativity thrives on this kind of uncertainty. It’s when I do things my way that I’m more likely to experience a moment of pure joy or get the chills from a combination of notes I’ve just played or sung.
Chances are I might never be able to play whatever it is the same way ever again. But it was there, and I will remember the feeling, if not the notes.
Like my cat entering a room, goosebumps tend to arrive suddenly, sometimes silently, and as if from any angle. Trying to engineer them won’t work very well, and trying to copy something that has previously brought them on will likely result in something weaker and generic.
Something that catches you off guard
What will do it is probably something that catches you off guard, like a line of melody you didn’t expect to work, or a sentence that hits with an emotion you weren’t intending to display. It will be something counterintuitive that feels like a mistake but suddenly becomes the next step on a path you’re making up as you go.
It will happen because you follow your curiosity instead of doing what you think you should. Try to chase it and you’re bound to be disappointed.
Not just because it’s hard to do, but because the best examples are always going to be those that take you completely by surprise.