Pigeons-in-holes.jpg by en:User:BenFrantzDale; CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons
I’ve been thinking lately about pigeonholing.
Pigeonholes were, originally, exactly what the word implies: nesting spots for pigeons. It also means small compartments in furniture, especially where you sort things (letters, files, etc).
And, as a verb, it means “to assign to a definite place; to put aside for the present, especially with the intention of ignoring or forgetting, often indefinitely” (dictionary.com).**
This is where, I think, we can get stuck in creative lives: we sort ourselves into a pigeonhole, and then never leave it. This is an especially dangerous practice for musicians, artists, and any creative folks.
We make grand proclamations: “I am a conductor!” (pianist, early music singer, jazz saxaphonist, ballroom dancer, watercolour painter, etc), and then we never leave our pigeonhole. We get comfy, make our nest, and believe that’s that.
Sometimes we do a reverse-pigeonholing with our proclamations: “I’m not a composer!” with exactly the same results.
But this isn’t a good way to live as an artist, or as anyone out in the world. To pigeonhole ourselves is to blind ourselves to other possibilities, expanded identities, and new pathways.
What pigeonholes have you created for yourself? Can you (gently) question them and explore something new?
To that end, here is something I composed! I am looking out of my “I’m not a composer” pigeonhole to see what else there might be for me to do and try.
**Incidentally, there is something called the Pigeonhole Principle in mathematics, which has nothing to do with what I’m talking about here, but is quite interesting!