Nathan: What if instead of making art without thinking, he said, "You know what? I can't paint anything, unless I know exactly why I'm doing it." What would have happened?
Caleb: He never would have made a single mark.
Nathan: Yes! You see, there's my guy, there's my buddy, who thinks before he opens his mouth. He never would have made a single mark.
Here is the whole scene: (Language warning at the end — NSFW.)
How true it is, I muse, that I've sought so many rules, and formulas, and divine proclamations, when in fact all that remains to be done is the direct act of doing. And in the seeking of rules, and formulas, I forever hover, suspend, between thought and execution, never sure of that which remains to be done, somehow seeking permission to enact upon the canvas of life that which my heart thrills to seek.
I struggle in the famine of my silence, to regard myself as worthy to let down pen to paper, or mouse to Photoshop, or pencil to notebook.
But, it's when the creative process is unrestrained, proceeds without permission, transcending the master-slave dynamic imposed by the frontal cortex and by the paralyzing terror of societal rejection, that art happens.
And it is brilliant...when it does.