I went to Krakow in November.
No real reason. We’d never been to Poland, my husband had a few days’ holiday left, the flights were fairly cheap (financially, if not environmentally).
We lucked out. It was a wet weekend in November, but Krakow does winter really, really well, with cool cafes, cosy bars, comfort food, mulled wine and hot chocolate everywhere. The city has a fascinating history, and there’s also a brilliant contemporary art museum, MOCAK, showcasing interesting work by many east European artists that were new to us.
But the real excitement for us was the Kazimierz area, where crumbling buildings housed stylish cafes, grungy candlelit bars and interesting restaurants. The buzz, the energy was instantly recognisable: Lower Manhattan in the early 80s. mid-80s Ibiza. Berlin after the wall came down, East London in the early 90s..
We all know this story.
Something begins. An art scene. A few club nights. A new musical genre. A cluster of innovative fashion designers. A theatre or dance group. A cafe where writers gather to talk, drink, argue. The energy from this ripples out, and soon other creatives are drawn in: some in supporting roles, others just attracted or inspired by the vibe.
New bars and cafes open to cater for them. Run-down buildings become studios, budget accommodation. Indie shops start to open, support services move in (galleries, retouching studios, programming rooms, co-working spaces, printers, tech services).
As the area becomes hipper, it becomes more desirable. The run-down buildings get renovated. Then wealthier people move in. Rents rise. And gradually, the struggling young creatives are pushed out, and have to find somewhere else to survive, then thrive.
It’s become a roadmap for urban regeneration everywhere: first, encourage the creatives.
My point here?
This is not a rant against gentrification: great cities are always changing, shifting, alive. It’s more about me realising how important those flashes of creative energy are. How much I still need that buzz, that excitement. And how it feeds me.
I’d love to go back to Krakow for longer. To enjoy it before the inevitable changes come. For me, sitting with my laptop in bars like Eszeweria (pictured above) would be better than any writing retreat.
We all need our own versions of this. For you it might not be bars, cafes, clubs and music. It could be quieter, more technical: obsessed with craft, materials, process. But we all need community, connection with other creatives. We might work alone. But for inspiration, we need to be with our tribe
We must find the others.
Creativity thrives in clusters. We all need others to encourage and inspire us. To compete with, argue with, collaborate with. To write about our work, to show it, buy it. That whole ecosystem of collective activity that Brian Eno calls Scenius.
In the past, that meant moving where the action was. But you no longer have to uproot your entire life to find your creative community. You just need to look for them.
Community comes in many shapes and sizes.
So we need to find the ones that fit us.
I have an artist client who attends life-drawing classes online, and musician clients who write and record with collaborators on the other side of the globe, some of whom they’ve never met in real life.
I have writing buddies from all over the world thanks to the London Writers Salon and its four daily Zoom co-working sessions. (If you want to join us, it’s free, and open to all.)
Connect, connect, connect. And keep looking till you find your people.
This is how we grow. Together.
My autumn group coaching programme is drawing to a close, and I’m already mourning it. Over ten weeks, these small groups support and inspire each other, sharing their wisdom and experience. I facilitate them. But I also learn from them, every time.
The brilliant creatives in my current group live in LA, Chicago, London, Copenhagen, small towns in Wales, the Lake District, the Kent coast. They work in a variety of fields from film and TV to writing, design, art and architecture. Some are well-established in their careers, others just starting out.
Yet they’ve all helped and encouraged each other, and often found they shared the same challenges and fears. I’m always bowled over by how generous, open and giving creatives can be, once they’re in a room together. Even when that room is virtual.
The spring group begins on February 6.
I’ve opened booking earlier than usual, and I’m offering a hefty £100 discount to anyone booking by December 26.
It might well be the last one for a while. It will certainly be the last at this price point. We want to travel more next year, and I have some new ideas I want to experiment with.
I’ve yet to decide whether to run a group next autumn. So if you’ve been considering it, I’d love you to join us.
To book your place, or book a short chat with me to see if it would be right for you, click below.
What do you think?