Action, Creation, and the Fear of the Invisible
There is something deeply troubling in the way humanity recognizes its greatest creators. Again and again, the same pattern repeats: people who give extraordinary things to the world are ignored during their lifetimes and praised only after they are gone.
We applaud too late.
I have often wondered why this happens. The question came back to me when thinking about figures like Beethoven, Van Gogh, and others who created works that humanity treasures, yet who lived with uncertainty, loneliness, or neglect.
One story about Beethoven always moves me deeply. When he conducted the premiere of his Ninth Symphony, he could not hear the applause because he was already deaf. Someone had to turn him around so that he could see the audience standing and applauding. He gave something immense to humanity - and yet he himself stood in silence.
Why do we wait so long to recognize greatness?
Action and Creation
Perhaps the answer lies in a difference between action and creation. Human beings easily recognize action. Action is visible and immediate. Explorers climb mountains. Travelers cross continents. Performers stand before audiences and play music or act on stage. Their achievements unfold before our eyes.
The mountaineer who lived through the events described in Seven Years in Tibet acted in the physical world. His journeys could be mapped and described. His experiences were visible and concrete.
Human beings understand action because they can imagine themselves doing it. When we watch a violinist perform Paganini, or a pianist play Beethoven's Emperor Concerto, we see movement and effort. Even if the performance is extraordinary, it feels like an extension of ordinary human ability.
It belongs to the physical world.
Creation is different.
Creation Begins in the Invisible Creators also act physically. A composer must write notes on paper. A painter must apply paint to canvas. A writer must fill pages with words. But creation does not begin with the hands. It begins invisibly.
Before the painting appears, the painter must see it. Before the symphony is written, the composer must hear it. Before the novel exists, the writer must imagine it.
Michelangelo said that the statue of David already existed in the marble and that he merely released it. Where others saw a block of stone, he saw a human figure waiting to emerge.
Beethoven heard entire musical worlds before writing them down.
Van Gogh did not merely splash paint onto canvas. He saw something that demanded expression - colors and movements that others could not see - and he brought them into the visible world.
Without the physical act of writing or painting, we would never know what they had seen. But the essential act occurred before that - in the invisible realm of imagination. And it is this invisible stage that makes creation so difficult to understand.
That pattern is very common in intellectual history:
Ideas rejected first; Then ridiculed or ignored, rediscovered later and credited posthumously
It happens repeatedly in science and scholarship.
The Fear of the Creative Mind
Human beings trust what they can see and touch. The process of creation, however, takes place inside the mind. It has no witnesses and no measurable steps. A new idea appears, and no one can see where it came from. To many people, this process feels almost like magic.
Perhaps this is why extraordinary creators have often been misunderstood or feared.
The violinist Paganini was rumored to have made a pact with the devil because his playing seemed beyond human possibility. His thin appearance and intense expression only reinforced the impression that something supernatural was at work.
Van Gogh was regarded as mad rather than visionary.
Einstein imagined physical laws through thought experiments that existed only in his mind before they became scientific theory.
To the outside observer, creation often appears as if something has emerged from nothing.
That mystery can be unsettling.
Why Performers Are Recognized Sooner
Performers usually receive recognition during their lifetimes.
Actors, musicians, and singers stand before audiences and produce visible results. Applause comes naturally because the audience experiences the work directly in the moment. The violinist receives applause for the music that the composer wrote. The actor receives applause for the play that the author created.
The creator may be absent - sometimes long dead - but the performer stands before us now. Applause belongs to the present moment. Creation belongs to time.
Creation as Necessity
True creators often continue even without recognition:
- Van Gogh painted hundreds of works without buyers.
- Beethoven continued composing after losing his hearing.
- Balzac wrote endlessly, producing a vast literary world.
These people did not create because they were applauded. They created because something inside them demanded expression. If a person cannot stop creating, then creation is part of that person's nature. Recognition becomes secondary.
Recognition After Death
Recognition during life requires commitment.
It requires: Attention, resources, trust and risk taking.
After death, recognition costs nothing.. The creator no longer competes. The work can be admired safely. There is no longer any uncertainty about reputation or value.
Applauding the dead is easy. Applauding the living requires courage.
Why This Happens
There are structural reasons:
- Institutions resist change. New ideas or unconventional people threaten established views.
- Recognition is often conservative. People wait until controversy disappears - which often means after the person dies.
- Reputation lags behind reality Society often needs decades to judge clearly.
Hapgood was ignored, Robinson honored too late, Kurosawa nearly abandoned, innumerable others recognized only after death
Kurosawa's crisis came not because he lacked talent, but because the world temporarily turned away from him.
And then - as so often happens - history reversed the judgment.
How late the world applauds the great figures.
Applauding someone during their lives costs money and economically that is partly true. Recognition in life means:
- Paying commissions
- Funding projects
- Supporting artists
- Taking risks
Recognition after death costs nothing. Society often waits until risk disappears before it admits greatness. And death removes risk.
A Very Striking Pattern
Many great authors share the same fate: Their work is too unusual or too deep
It is too different or too early
Readers need time to catch up.
"It is as if applauding someone in life costs money."
For writers this is especially true:
- Publishers avoid risk
- Critics follow fashion
- Readers choose familiar works
But after death: No risk and no payment needed. No competition. Then suddenly:"A genius!"
Praise Feels Like Surrender
There is a subtle human resistance to saying: "You are greater than I am."
Acknowledging greatness requires humility. Many people avoid that instinctively. They may admire silently but hesitate to say it aloud.
Institutions Reward the Safe, Not the Great
Publishers, studios, universities, and producers tend to support: what already works; what sells; what fits expectations
Genius often does not fit those patterns. So the system delays recognition - sometimes for decades.
4. Death Removes the Threat
When a person is alive:
- They compete with others
- They challenge ideas
- They demand resources
- They disturb the comfortable order
After death: they threaten no one
They ask for nothing
They cannot contradict anyone
Then admiration becomes easy.
The Mystery That Remains
Creation is action that begins invisibly and continues beyond the lifetime of the creator.
An explorer's journey ends. A performance ends.
But a painting remains. A symphony continues to be played. A book continues to be read.
Creation transforms the future.
Perhaps the greatest generosity we can show is to recognize creators while they are still alive - to acknowledge what they have brought into the world before time turns them into legends.
Because the applause that comes too late cannot be heard.
