November 9, 2025
Writing a song using only two notes or painting a picture using just three colors; writing a book that is absent of the letter ‘E’….Call it Minimalism or creative restriction or whatever you wish, this idea of negative space is something that is crucial within the art world; but does it have realistic applications in our everyday life?
When we place restrictions on ourselves or our children, it’s often intended for the purposes of safety and wellness; and for this reason, imposing certain limitations in everyday life can seem a lot less fun than writing a song or painting a picture, regardless of how necessary or worthwhile the boundary may be.
Rumspringa
Jobs and meals and transportation and schedules, we “have” to do; whereas art, in our culture, is typically viewed as something extra that we “get” to do. This is partially caused by the rising influence of mainstream pop culture, plasticizing artistry and distorting public perception of what it means to create something out of nothing (see All that Glitters) ; it also stems from the fact that facts themselves can sometimes exist as an arbitrary construct once we set out to explore the depths of our consciousness and attempt to express our findings.
It only makes sense that the tools and vessels we implement in order to tap into this dark and vast experiential realm necessitate some sort of boundary or guideline for how to proceed into the abyss. For most of us operating in the “real world”, however, the day-to-day is more or less mapped out for us, which means it’s a lot more predictable and therefore, relatively easy to navigate.
When the steps and procedures have been established by the entities, organizations and systems to which we dedicate an enormous share of our attention, imposing restrictions on our actual personal time can feel like a drag– most of us tend to just want to do the opposite of that. It’s like in the Amish practice of Rumspringa, where 16-year olds are encouraged to seek interests that exist outside of their religious boundaries before deciding if they want to devote the rest of their lives to the church.
Non-Amish citizens like to blow off a LOT of steam when we’ve temporarily departed from the aforementioned systems for the day; while the Rumspringa itself functions almost as the opposite of a restriction in order to allow its members to discover for themselves that life outside the church isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s an extensive, deep dive and a mind-flipper; and it evidently works.
Instead of spending an entire year in an unfamiliar world to learn a lesson, we non-Amish get so inebriated watching NFL football one Sunday, that we show up to work the next morning swearing we’ll never drink on a school night again…until the Chiefs play the Chargers next Thursday– “just promise me you won’t drive the buggy”.
Are You Serious?
Reverse psychology can work: “Okay, Samuel, try spending a year sowing your wild oats in the unforgiving hell-scape that society has made of itself”; or sometimes work (while standing in front of a mirror): “yes, you should definitely eat that whole pint of ice cream and get diarrhea, fatty”. But as we’ve come to understand, that’s not the intention of creative restriction.
We try so hard in this area, we really do: setting 13 different alarm times on our phone 5 minutes apart (pre-snoozers); placing the chocolate pudding behind the vegetables in the fridge (“to hell with this cabbage I’m reaching over, just gonna grab this little carton…ah, thank you”); or we’re committing to 3 hours with the inlaws “and that’s it” (good luck). Again, we’re setting boundaries to avoid common dissatisfaction or malign experiences in order to protect ourselves. How’s that going?
When an artist tries to write a song using just a few notes or paint a picture using only three colors, they won’t find themselves creating much of anything if they continue to obsess over the colors or notes that they’re not supposed to use. Soon enough they will take what is available to them, accepting whimsical folly, and attempt to create something interesting and beautiful. The restrictions in this case are intended to funnel the mind toward simplicity, clarity and focus.
There are some problem solving skills that are being utilized when we “trick” our minds by removing options to which it may have access; but it is truly about embracing the simplicity of these parameters we’re given, not calculating the missing pieces. Artistically, we’re not always looking for solutions because we naturally tend to approach this work as a project, not a problem– answers don’t really exist, at least not in the traditional sense.
When we’re living our lives as the parent, the spouse, the friend or the colleague, we often tend to approach a lot of innocuous situations as being problematic. Most of the time, they’re only problems until we decide a solution must be inserted: punishing our kids, guilting our partner, ghosting our buddy or lying to a boss; the number of foolish ways in which we attempt to head off what is essentially a self-produced enigma are endless, while the imaginary problem soon becomes a real one. Perhaps we’re taking everything too seriously.
Waving
My partner and I recently finished a 24-hour fast, as there is a lot of evidence that supports fasting as being a healthy biological reset. We’re always trying crazy shit like this, but about halfway through the day I realized I had never in my life intentionally starved myself whenever I was hungry. First, I was hit with guilt from the privilege of even being in this position, while there are millions of people in the world who are starving every single day; but this gave me perspective and gratitude as well.
Next, amidst the caffeine withdrawal headaches (I coffee fasted too) and mild fatigue, I realized just how much fucking food we actually have to choose from and in every variety imaginable– and most of it is abominable, while hunger drives us around. The first meal following a fast is not like the binging of pizza and burgers after finishing a triathlon (or a Wednesday morning in a cubicle); the whole point is to slowly reintroduce nutritious, real food back into our body.
While this is a physical practice intended to yield biologically tangible results, everyone has their own version of a metaphysical change once they’ve experienced it. This is not unlike the doors that begin to open for us artistically once we’ve stripped away excess information and focus deeply and simply on what is in front of us; and because of the amount that we stand to gain just by removing something we’re used to having at our disposal, I would consider fasting to be a sound creative restriction in a non-artistic application.
Obstacles and agility exercises in athletics, constructing things out of only recycled materials, minimizing the clothing options we have in our closet, leaving the house (or better yet, spending an entire day) without our phone– there are in fact many ways we can impose non-artistic creative restrictions in our lives that can pay off, even if (and sometimes because) we’re looking for a solution to a problem. What we don’t expect and what is so thrilling, are the answers that unfold within the process of limitation.
There is also no limit to the magnitude of restriction. For instance, we may choose to live in a big city with more opportunities, so that we really zero in on a particular field or niche; or if we’re residing in a smaller town where there is less density, we may expand our field or become more flexible. Hopefully, whatever limitations we’re dealing with allow us to align our values with how we spend our time. It all depends on one’s attitude and sometimes, the willingness to take risks and ride a wave.
Two years ago, the idea behind van-life for us was to place an extreme level of limitation on everyday comforts such as work, couches, televisions, hell, even walls, in order to experience more livable freedom (with 3 kids in tow). Ironically, this constraint gave us such an increase in freedom that we often experienced difficulty (and sometimes anxiety) deciding where to go next– for, in the interest of spontaneity, we didn’t plan every single leg of the 4-month stretch.
Additional parameters could have been set: planning every single stop, placing a hard limit on duration of stays, visiting only National Parks, or just following the hot springs (my personal favorite). But the freedom to explore and be wild would have been diluted by the need to “itinerize” and over-control the adventure. In this case, living in a van was not only the overarching restriction, but the magnitudinal wave we rode in order to see and do things we never would have imagined. And I sincerely hope there will always be a time and a place for that.