Before We Had Words: The Origin of Our Creative Urge

Before we had language for it, we were already making things.

We made things because something inside us needed to respond to the world. To leave a mark, to communicate, to understand.

Creativity isn't a modern luxury. It's ancient. The same impulse that made early humans grind pigments and press their hands against cave walls is the same one that makes us pick up a brush today.

It helped us survive. Early humans didn't just hunt and gather. They imagined. They invented tools they'd never seen before. They looked at a stone and saw a blade. They looked at fire and saw warmth, light, protection.

Imagination wasn't separate from survival. It was survival.

It helped us communicate. Before written language, we told stories through images, rhythm, dance. We painted animals on walls not just to document what we saw, but to share what we felt, what we feared, what we hoped for. We created to be understood. To say: I was here. I saw this. Do you see it too?

Firey Horizons (24×24 Acrylic on Canvas) - Chris Auman

It helped us remember. Memory wasn't stored in books. It lived in song, in story, in the objects we made with our hands. Creating became a way to hold onto what mattered and pass down what we learned.

And it helped us shape what didn't yet exist. Creativity gave us the ability to imagine a different future. To see beyond what was in front of us. To ask: What if?

That instinct hasn't left us.

Even now, that ancient urge is still there. It's the reason we feel restless when we haven't made something in a while. Why we doodle during meetings. Why we rearrange our living rooms or spend hours on projects no one asked us to do.

We're naturally responding to something older than civilization itself.

The urge to create is wired into us. Not as a hobby, but as a way of being. A way to make sense of chaos. A way to connect. A way to leave something behind.

Detail: Dance of Storm and Sea (36×36 Acrylic, Collage on Canvas) - Chris Auman

When I stand in front of a canvas, I'm not just painting the ocean. I'm responding to it the way our ancestors responded to their world. I'm translating feeling into form. Chaos into color.

And when someone sees one of my paintings and feels something, that's the ancient transaction. They're receiving a message I sent through pigment and gesture, the same way someone 40,000 years ago received a message painted on stone.

This is what we do. It’s an awesome way to live in the world.

So if we've been feeling the urge to make something, let's not ignore it. It's not frivolous. It's one of the most human things we can do.

Make something small today. Doodle. Write three sentences. Arrange flowers. Cook a nice meal. Notice when creativity calls and what we were feeling when it did.

Honor the impulse.