How Do Artists Work? By Drinking Coffee, Of Course.
Beginning in 2007, Mason Currey set out to find the answer to a single, ancient question: What makes artists tick? For his book, Daily Rituals: How Artists Work, Currey dove into the days, nights, and working habits of historys most interesting creative luminaries, looking for patterns and answers. While he found no single, reliable secret to unspooling creative output, he did find a few crucial rituals. Of the keys he did uncover, after swimming through the diaries and works of 161 artists, the most popular were these: walking, working in the quiet dead of night, waifish diets, and what he calls the great uniting force of the collection: coffee. And heroic amounts thereof.
Coffee is indeed a working artists dream partly for its stimulating, exciting effect, and partly for the ritual of preparation that offers a valuable bridge into a creative mindset.
Of artistic coffee fanatics, Balzac was perhaps the most famous example, swigging up to 50 cups a day, a habit that prompted him to write this beautiful, feverish love letter to it:
Coffee glides into ones stomach and sets all of ones mental processes in motion. Ones ideas advance in column of route like battalions of Grande Armée. Memories come up at the double, bearing the standards which will lead the troops into battle. The light cavalry deploys at the gallop. The artillery of logic thunders along with its supply wagons and shells. Brilliant notions join in the combat as sharpshooters. The characters don their costumes, the paper is covered with ink, the battle has started, and ends with an outpouring of black fluid like a real battlefield enveloped in swaths of black smoke from the expended gunpowder. Were it not for coffee, one could not write, which is to say one could not live.
Balzac did not live incredibly long; he died of heart failure at 51. Well take this opportunity to endorse moderation.
Other disciplines, too, struck up a love affair with coffee.
A mathematician is a machine for turning coffee into theorems, said Paul Erdös, an mathematician himself. Filmmaker David Lynch spent seven years of afternoons in Bobs Big Boy diner, drinking first a chocolate milkshake, and then up to seven cups of coffee dosed with sugar. Frenzied and high on all of it, he poured the ideas onto napkins with a pen as they bubbled up.
Others were more attached to the ritual than the effect. Beethoven was famously meticulous about the number of beans in his morning cup, counting precisely 60, by twos, every day. Kierkegaard developed the habit of filling a coffee mug with sugar, and then slowly dissolving the pile with a slow, steady stream of strong black coffee. And then taking it down in one gulp.
Be wary though, says Balzac. Coffee is merely an accelerator, not the origin of ideas. Many people claim coffee inspires them, but, as everybody knows, coffee only makes boring people even more boring.