Peering through Cracks
This week, I talk to Nick Mafi, Features Editor at Architectural Digest. Our conversation surprised me, and solidified a few things I’d been trying to figure out, mainly how one wanders out of the things we build. The creative process seems to rely on build—wander out—rebuild energy. N’est pas?
My interview with Nick Mafi….
Nick, you’ve moved between paradoxes, or seeming ones, to arrive at where you are now. You’re an Iranian-American former Division 1 soccer player from suburban Ohio who became an art, architecture, and culture writer living in urban chic Brooklyn.
I enjoy all the twists and turns my head does when I consider this identity.
Recently, you wrote a piece in GQ magazine about the experience of being at the Iran-USA World Cup match. In the story, you offered a lens on the complexities of wielding allegiances when identities have cracks.
And cracks are openings, right? They’re opportunities to move from simple, tight, narrow, into wider views.
Identities can be tight spaces, they can box you into something. But then there are always cracks. And you’ve traveled through them. What has this yielded? More specifically, what was it like moving from centering your life around soccer—that box—into a passion for art and literature?
And, another question involving boxes….why do we often put creativity in a box?
I’ll start here…I found an identity through soccer as a young person living in the Midwest. I received a great degree of positive affirmation from it, and friendships. At that time, I never read a book or wrote anything beyond what was expected of me at school. My life was soccer. I was cocooned in that box.
And life was going in the direction I’d planned and hoped for when I got a scholarship to play soccer at Syracuse University. But, in dramatic fashion, everything changed in my first year. I suffered a career-ending knee injury and had to leave the one thing I had always relied on to help me feel a sense of achievement and purpose. It made me into a shell of a person. I wasn’t sure who to be, how to pick myself back up. I did a lot of wandering. Fortunately, a university is a great place to wander.
Somehow, I found myself in an English Lit class led by a professor who really captivated me. He was remarkable. I wanted to talk like him, to think like him. I’d never read a serious book in my life, and yet, he was giving me energy in this dark time. I knew it intuitively. And so, I shocked myself and became an English Major.
Regarding creativity, I’d say I actually find a lot of similarities between soccer and creative writing. Writing is a competitive act, requiring the same degree of focus, drive, and discipline. Your muscles have to be trained to write everyday, to let yourself face blocks, to constantly fine-tune. And you learn and adjust by watching yourself and others, much like athletics.
If you’re not disciplined, if you don’t exercise those creative muscles everyday, your creativity will be held in a box.
Writing is sport-like, isn’t it. Writing from a place of creative intelligence isn’t about waiting for the muse to show up. There’s a rigour and commitment to it. It makes me think of what Wilco’s singer, Jeff Tweedy, recently said in his book about creativity:
“Let’s talk more about what we call “inspiration.” It’s overrated. I believe that you have to invite inspiration in. I’ve found that most people who have a fulfilling life in art are, like me, the people who work at it every day and put the tools of creation in their hands frequently, who not only invite inspiration in but also do it on a regular basis. Instead of waiting to be “struck” by inspiration, they put themselves directly in its path.”
I imagine you learned from an early age, through soccer, how to be disciplined and focused. But of course, creative work is not as structured as soccer. How do you let yourself wander and exercise patience when creativity is anything but linear or “efficient.”
I’ve actually always been quite self-aware, triple-thinking everything on the field, and it did hurt me in athletics. It wasn’t as easy for me to be in the moment and play without being in my head. But yes, sports do teach you that.
And in writing, I’ve learned that same art of letting go.
I’ve also learned patience. Writing takes a long time.
There is a finite amount of output that’s possible on a given day, and sometimes, for me it’s 50 words. But I keep myself committed to my writing schedule, no matter what. I document word counts, I track my progress. It is a meticulous exercise. But it’s also non-linear as you said.
I keep the momentum going by putting myself in the path of opportunities for potential success. By that I mean, I’m always reading, always listening to literary podcasts. There could be a turn of phrase, a simple word that can reconfigure something in my mind and help me find a path through what I’m working on.
I’ve come to trust in this process. I just have to keep doing it everyday. It is a discipline.
This is all very affirming. Calling up our creative intelligence is driven by rigour and routine mixed-in with dance. But of course, like many, I have a habit of putting creativity in the airy-fairy box.
What’s a tip you’d pass to someone wanting to travel through the cracks of the boxes they find themselves in? In art-making, in life?
Go for it. You’ll grow as a person. The world will appear less banal. You’ll meet interesting people. You’ll become more empathetic to yourself and others.
You’ll find it possible to squeeze more out of yourself.
But it’s real work, and here I am speaking specifically about writing. It takes focus and commitment. Hemingway was unbelievably disciplined.
And “achievement” doesn't come quickly. Manage your expectations. Don’t expect anything to come all at once. It is slow, meticulous work. All the success I’ve had has been attributed to my ability to be disciplined. The small daily acts have taken me to the big places in my creative work.
Thank you Nick. I’m very happy you followed what gave you energy in that dark time and said yes to something you knew absolutely nothing about. I know it’s taken you on a wild and interesting journey. I’ve seen the places you’ve gone in Architectural Digest!
You can find a collection of Nick’s writing on his website or follow him on Instagram to see all the beautiful places he visits with Architectural Digest!