We’re all familiar with the phrase “the cobbler’s children have no shoes”. In fact, in some circles it’s so overused that it’s been rendered meaningless. But if we peel back the cliché, we typically conclude that the cobbler spends so much time at the shop earning a living that serving his family with his professional experience isn’t a priority. Perhaps it’s because of the economy & the need to work harder than ever to stay employed. Perhaps (understandably) he just needs a break. Perhaps—most tragically—he just doesn’t like what he does enough to do it outside of work hours.
What’s the creative equivalent of this phrase?
“The musician’s baby has no songs written about her?”
“The designer’s house is all white—just as the builder left it.”
“The photographer’s family has no portraits?”
If that’s ever true—especially amongst creatives in the kingdom—then something is broken. There are many reasons we SHOULD blur the lines between those things that you love … from friends & family to the artistic or technical passions that you’ve been entrusted with.
This isn’t about taking your work home. This is about combining the things that you love to fuel, to inspire, and to challenge yourself creatively.
Nick and I were testing some equipment a while back and shot this one-minute sample of my family:
Let’s Go Bowling Spec/Sample from ProlifikFilms on Vimeo.
Now, I love that video for what it is. But practically speaking, I’ve found myself playing it in a handful of settings to illustrate one thing or another. One organization was expressing frustration with their casting process & how their content never came across as authentic. But after watching this, their perspective changed forever. They said that they’d trade the film crews, grip trucks, location fees and catering tables for something that felt that real. It led to some great conversations and a complete re-invention of their expectations—all from a simple little film that we put together just to test some new equipment & have some fun.
At a recent brainstorming meeting we were having trouble pulling all of the resources together to tell a handful of stories from start-to-finish. So, to explore the idea of combining simple visuals with live narration (or teaching) I played this one-minute video that I put together after a recent family trip to Washington DC:
Vietnam Memorial Wall Spec/Sample from ProlifikFilms on Vimeo.
As the video was playing, I talked about how a volunteer had chosen to spend some extra time with my seven year-old daughter. He honored us by telling her the story of the one female solider killed in action in Vietnam. He took Kaylee to a spot on the wall where he helped her make a rubbing of the soldier’s name—Sharon Lane. As we were getting ready to leave, this war-hardened volunteer veteran turned to us & with red, teary eyes, he said “Thank you. You guys just made my day.” I was speechless. A draftee, thrust into an unpopular, losing war, and now volunteering nearly all his time in his last chapter of life—and we made his day. It wrecked me.
And after showing these simple visuals, and choking my way through the story, it clicked with the team. The series of illustrations didn’t need to resolve themselves—the films could set the stage for live storytelling. And our plans started going in a whole new direction.
I think that if we truly love what we do, and we live with enough margin to practice our skills and passion outside of our livelihood, that it’ll fuel and inspire us creatively.
Incidentally, I’ve also got a number of personal projects that failed—shots that didn’t work, moments that weren’t captured as I would have liked. And I learned from every single one of those, too.
The ability to tell stories, create moments, and explain, inspire or illustrate through drama and art … these are precious, noble gifts & passions. Some of us (myself included) need to be reminded that this aspect of being created in the image of God is way too important to use just to earn a salary. It’s not just what we do. It’s a big part of who we are.
