ALL of my life I have been haunted by the fascinating questions of creativity. Why does an original idea in science and in art "pop up" from the unconscious at a given moment? What is the relation between talent and the creative act? How did Homer, confronting something as gross as the Trojan War, fashion it into poetry which became a guide for the ethics of the whole Greek civilization?
I have asked these questions not as one who stands on the sidelines, but as one who participates in art. I ask them out of my own excitement, for example, at watching two of my colors on a paper merge into an unpredictable third color. As it not the distinguishing characteristic of the human being that in the race of evolution he pauses for a moment to paint on the cave walls those brown and red deer and bison which still fill us with amazed admiration? Suppose the apprehension of beauty is itself a way to truth. Suppose that elegance in art is a key to ultimate reality. Suppose Joyce is right that the artist creates "the uncreated conscience of the race."
From the preface of "The Courage to Create" by Rollo May