In This Article you will know The Tested Route to Producing Original Work. Arno Rafael Minkkinen took the stage in June 2004 to deliver the commencement address at the New England School of Photography.
Minkkinen expressed a straightforward hypothesis that, in his opinion, was the difference between success and failure as he looked out at the graduating kids. The Helsinki Bus Station Theory was the name he gave it.
The Theory of the Helsinki Bus Station
Finland’s Helsinki is where Minkkinen was born. He started his speech by giving the pupils a description of the enormous bus station that was located in the city’s heart.
Two dozen platforms are set up in a square in the middle of the city, according to Minkkinen. The bus numbers that depart from each platform are listed on a sign at the top of each platform. It’s possible that the bus numbers are as follows: 21, 71, 58, 33, and 19. Every bus travels the same route out of the city for at least a kilometre while making frequent stops at bus stops.
Let’s assume, metaphorically speaking once more, that each bus stop represents one year in a photographer’s career, he said. In other words, the third bus stop would stand for three years of photography. Okay, so you’ve been producing platinum studies of naked people for the past three years. Call it bus number 21.
“You bring those three years’ worth of work to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, where the curator inquires as to your familiarity with Irving Penn’s nude photographs. On the same route was his bus number 71. Another option is to accompany them to a gallery in Paris while recommending Bill Brandt, bus 58, and other artists. Astounded, you discover that others have already completed what you have been working on for three years.
Keep riding the bus.
Because life is short, you get off the bus, hail a cab, and immediately return to the bus station to hunt for another platform.
This time, he instructed, “you will take 8 x 10 colour view camera pictures of individuals lying on the beach from a cherry picker crane. You work on it for three years, invest three thousand dollars, and create a number of pieces that draw the same response. Have you seen Richard Misrach’s creations? Have you seen the work of Sally Mann if they are steamy 8×10 black and white photographs of palm trees swaying off a beachfront?
“So you exit the bus once more, hop in a cab, and dash back to a different platform. Your entire creative career is spent in constant display of new work and comparison to others.
Minkkinen hesitated and said, “Stay on the Bus.” What should I do? he enquired as he turned to face the students.
It’s easy, he declared. Keep riding the bus. Stay the hell on the bus. Because if you do, you will eventually start to see a change.
Buses that leave Helsinki follow the same route, but only for a short distance—perhaps a kilometre or two. Then they start to disperse, with each number moving on to a different location. Bus 33 abruptly turns north. bus route 19 south. Maybe 21 and 71 dovetail for a while, but soon they too split apart. “Irving Penn is moving on.”
The divide, according to Minkkinen, is what really makes a difference. It’s time to hunt for your breakthrough if you start to notice a difference between your work and the work you so admire—after all, that’s why you chose that platform. Your work starts to gain attention all of a sudden. Now that you are working more independently, you can more clearly distinguish between your work and the things that affected it. Your vision expands. And as the years go by and your body of work grows, it won’t be long before the critics start to show a great deal of interest—not just in what makes your work different from that of Sally Mann or Ralph Gibson, but also in what you did when you first started!
You actually reclaim the entire bus route. Twenty years after they were created, vintage prints are suddenly given a higher value and begin commanding a higher price. The task is finished when the bus stops at the end of the line, allowing the driver to exit for a smoke or, preferable, a cup of coffee. Your entire body of work is now in front of you, including the early (so-called) imitations, breakthroughs, peaks and valleys, and closing masterpieces, all bearing the mark of your distinctive vision. It might be the conclusion of your artistic career or even your life.
Does Success Follow Consistency?
I talk regularly about the necessity of consistency for mastery. That involves actions like working hard, accelerating more quickly, and developing a romantic relationship with boredom. While The Helsinki Bus Station Theory helps to separate and clarify some crucial elements that are frequently neglected, these notions are crucial.
Does perseverance translate into success?
- Take a look at a college student. By this time in their lives, they have probably spent more than 10,000 hours in a classroom. Are they experts at absorbing all the information that is presented to them? In no way. The majority of what we learn in class is quickly forgotten.
- Think about a person who utilises a computer every day for work. If you’ve been at your job for a while, it’s extremely likely that you’ve written and responded to emails for more than 10,000 hours. Do you possess the abilities to create the next outstanding tale in light of all this writing? Most likely not.
- Take into account the typical person who visits the gym once each week. This has been practised by many people for many years or even decades. Are they shaped like professional athletes? Do they have elite strength levels? Unlikely.
- The Helsinki Bus Station Theory’s main selling point is that it exhorts you to perform more re-work rather than just more work.
It’s the rework, not the original work.
Most college students only learn concepts once. The most successful college students repeatedly learn concepts. Typical employees send one email per day. Elite novelists repeatedly rewrite chapters. The weekly workout schedule is mindlessly repeated by average fitness lovers. The top athletes actively assess each repetition and work to refine their form. The revision is what really counts.
In keeping with the bus metaphor, the photographers who board a new bus line after a few stops and get off the first bus are still at work during that entire trip. They have already completed 10,000 hours. However they are not, performing any rework. They don’t take the time to re-work their old ideas because they are too busy hopping from line to line in search of a route no one has taken before. And this is the secret to creating something exceptional and amazing, as The Helsinki Bus Station Theory makes plain.
Staying on the bus gives you time to rework and modify until you come up with something exceptional, motivational, and fantastic. Only by continuing on the path does mastery become apparent. Show up frequently enough to push out the mediocre ideas, and perhaps genius will emerge.
The 10,000 Hour Rule, which asserts that it takes 10,000 hours of deliberate practise to become an expert in a given profession, gained popularity thanks to Malcolm Gladwell’s book Outliers. I believe that deliberate practise involves revision, which we frequently overlook. You are not being deliberate if you are not paying close enough attention to revise.
10,000 hours were put in by many people. Few individuals devote 10,000 hours to revision. Staying aboard the bus is the only way to accomplish that.
Which Bus Are You Taking?
In some way or another, we are all makers. the manager who champions a new project. the tax accountant who develops a more efficient method of handling tax returns. the nurse who develops a more effective patient management strategy. Of course, there are also those that work hard to share their creations with the world: writers, designers, painters, and musicians. All of them are creators.
Any creator who seeks to advance civilization will fall short. We react to these mistakes much too frequently by phoning a cab and changing bus lines. Maybe over there the ride will be more comfortable.
Instead, we ought to continue riding the bus and put in the effort to review, reevaluate, and revise our concepts.
You must, however, choose the hardest option before you can accomplish it. Which bus are you taking? What narrative would you like to tell about your life? What art do you wish to spend your years perfecting?
How do you know the response is correct? Not you. No one can tell you which bus is the finest, but if you want to reach your full potential, you must pick one. One of life’s major tensions is this one. You must make a decision, but it is yours.
Once you have, continue to ride the bus.
