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I’m an optimist when it comes to change. I see room for future ideas and the shedding of past stress. I also know how hard it can be to let go of something you’ve poured your heart into – whether it’s your livelihood, a creative endeavor, a relationship, or whatever else. And I know how much Dan and Shirin poured their hearts into making Gold Palm work as a restaurant. I think about the boiling frog fable at least weekly. That’s almost as often as D.N.A. / Suzanne Vega’s, Tom Diner gets stuck in my head. For those not familiar: if a frog is placed in boiling water, it will jump out to save its life. If placed in cold water that is slowly heated, it will not perceive the danger and be cooked to death. Turns out this has been scientifically disproven, and frogs will jump out of warming water before it becomes lethal, which actually makes this analogy even more helpful, though less dramatic I’m no herpetologist, but I imagine the frog doesn’t have to reason with itself before it jumps out. Something primal happens. For us humans, our primal cues are often mired in hope, pride, ego, optimism, or some combination, causing us to keep going with things when we should jump out (we’re the scientifically inaccurate frog). It’s rarely because we suck or because something is obviously all wrong. That would make our decisions way easier. To lean on another favorite analogy, sometimes we need to kill some babies. In any form of creativity, we have prized ideas that help launch us into realizing an artistic vision. This could be a character, a phrase, a scene, or even a certain drum beat or musical loop. As we develop the full body of work, these prized ideas are put to the test in the context of everything else that has been created around it. As artists, we often have to look at the full body of work and ask, “Does this still work? Did it ever work? Is it still serving the purpose?” It’s natural to feel a certain sense of loyalty to these original prized ideas, to want them to work, to even try and force them to work. And yet ultimately, in order to get to where you need your project to go, to grow, to fully realize your vision, you must, along the way, kill some babies. Running a full-blown restaurant in these challenging times was the creative baby. I cannot wait to see the creative brilliance that emerges. I am also of course thrilled Creative Sundays will continue at Gold Palm. It’s consistently one of my favorite days of the month. It’s hard to know—and even harder to act on—when something stops being worth it emotionally, creatively, physically, financially. Of course everything comes with parts we don’t love doing (I have an exercise for that) but sometimes it’s not about fixing; it’s about moving on, temporarily or forever. So I want to raise a craft mocktail to listening to our guts, doing the math, jumping out before the water boils, and killing creative babies. While also leaving space to grieve a loss. Is there a creative endeavor you’re thinking about moving on from? An idea you’re gripping too tightly? Is the water around you getting a bit too hot? Making a change is usually so worth it in the end. (Special thanks to David for co-writing this reflection with me.)
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