CREATIVITY AN INTRODUCTION TO POPULAR CONCEPTS, TOPICS, AND DISCUSSIONS 
SAŠA POLJAK ISTENIČ 
Broad interest in creativity in academic disciplines, applied fields, and everyday life has turned the phenomenon of creativity into a fashionable concept, attached to a vast array of objects, practices, and actors. This article outlines popular discussions on creativity, addressing concepts such as individual and social creativity, the creative class, creative industries, and the creative city. Keywords: concepts, individual creativity, social creativity, creative class, creative industries, creative city, Slovenia Veliko zanimanje za ustvarjalnost v znanstvenih disciplinah, uporabnih vedah in vsakdanjem življenju je pojav spreobrnilo v moden koncept, ki se ga pripenja na široko množico predmetov, praks in akterjev. Prispevek oriše razširjene razprave o ustvarjalnosti, ki se nanašajo na koncepte, kot so individualna in družbena ustvarjalnost, ustvarjalni razred, ustvarjalne industrije in ustvarjalno mesto. Ključne besede: koncepti, individualna ustvarjalnost, družbena ustvarjalnost, ustvarjalni razred, ustvarjalne industrije, ustvarjalno mesto, Slovenija 
INTRODUCTION 
Today creativity is one of the most resonant, fruitful, and overused terms, and also one of the most analyzed concepts in the social sciences and humanities. A host of standard definitions generally point to two characteristics that are rooted in western philosophical traditions; namely, creativity as a distinction or a novelty, and as a talent or a vision. In this way, the phenomenon is often set in a relation between technology and innovation, reduced to a mere product, or it pertains to a domain of individual geniuses. Newer accounts increas­ingly reject the romantic “lone genius” and other “myths” (Weisberg 1986; Monturi and Purser 1995) and understand creativity as a social phenomenon, stressing the influence of social interactions and teamwork in managerial, organizational, or educational set­tings (Fischer et al. 2005; Watson 2007; Wilson 2010), or the role of specific groups and places; for example, the creative class (Florida 2002) and creative cities (Landry 2000). Anthropological studies also emphasize the social dimension of creativity; that is, the nature and ubiquity of creative processes as communicative and improvisational events, the role of socialization in the making of creative individuals, and the construction of certain objects and individuals as creative, which gives them value (Wilf 2014). “Standard” anthropological collections of articles on this topic specifically point out that creativity is a human activity that transforms existing cultural practices in a manner that a community or certain of its members find of value (Lavie et al. 1993), produces something new through the recom­bination and transformation of existing cultural practices and forms (Liep 2001), or is an 
improvisational process that is more crucial than its innovative results (e.g., its product; Hallam and Ingold 2007). 
Such a broad interest in creativity in academic disciplines and research domains, in economic, educational, cultural and welfare policy, and in (other) applied fields has turned creativity into a fashionable buzzword, attached to an unimaginably vast array of objects, processes (or practices), and actors. On the one hand, this can inspire critical conceptual research on creativity (Bajič 2017), motivate researchers to analyze social effects stemming from such understandings (Vodopivec 2017), expand the understanding of pure economic urban visions towards the value of social and cultural capital (Uršič 2017), advocate the need to foster the creativity of future employees (Zupan et al. 2017), or frustrate a researcher because it hinders him/her to properly grasp the phenomenon and get around all of this creative “clutter.” This article offers insight into my own struggles with creativity, reflected in selected social practices and activities in Ljubljana that I have encountered in the last three years. It outlines some popular discussions on creativity, addressing terms and con­cepts such as individual and social creativity, the creative class, creative industries, and the creative city, and it contextualizes this with brief examples from Slovenia. 
RESEARCH CONTEXT AND METHODOLOGY 
In the summer of 2013, a call for project applications forced me to decide on my future research: should I continue studying traditional (and quite unpopular) rural phenomena or turn to more trendy topics? Because Slovenia was at the height of the economic crisis, which decreased faith in an economic model based on the desire for the largest possible profit, the newspapers were flooded with stories about socially responsible individuals and groups that used a novel, creative way to positively change the environmental, social, cultural, economic, or even political (eco)system. In this context—with creativity as a fashionable topic and (in the form of creative industries) perceived as one of the main strategies in solving economic problems and, increasingly, social issues in cities—I conceived a postdoctoral project1 that in the end resulted in this thematic issue, leaning on qualitative approaches and particu­larly highlighting the potential (or anti-potential) of creativity’s social conceptualization.2 
Although I constantly pondered the most suitable definition of creativity according to the context of my study, I was inspired by the anthropological accounts mentioned above 
1 The research project Surviving, Living, Thriving: Creativity as a Way of Life (Z6-6841, 2014–2016) was financially supported by the Slovenian Research Agency. 
2 The second final result will be a special issue of Acta Geographica Slovenica (vol. 59, no. 1, 2019), focus­ing on spatial (and predominantly quantitative) aspects of urban creative practices (Kozina, Poljak Istenič and Komac,  forthcoming; Kozina and Clifton, forthcoming; Poljak Istenič, forthcoming b; Uršič and Tamano, forthcoming). The articles in both publications stem from the interdisciplinary conference Creative Green Ljubljana: From Theory to Practice (cf. Poljak Istenič 2016b). 
and I generally understood it as an interactive social process that reflects the livelihood strategies of various individuals and communities mostly active in (urban) culture, who challenge the prevailing notions of the importance of financial capital in favor of human (social, cultural, symbolic) capital. In addition to reading relevant literature and following diverse media, my research on such practices was mainly grounded in fieldwork, and at the center of my attention was Ljubljana as a cultural or creative city and as Slovenia’s political, administrative, cultural, and economic center. 
I mapped various practices across the city labeled as “creative,” engaged in participant observation, took photos, chatted with people, and conducted forty-seven formal interviews with coincidental participants in events, members of various associations, entrepreneurs, or those self-employed in culture, employees of NGOs, social enterprises and public insti­tutes as well as representatives of the City of Ljubljana and of the Ministry of Culture. The practices that I focused on and used to build my argumentation were accessibility of culture in museum settings (Poljak Istenič 2015a), urban cycling (Poljak Istenič 2015b, 2016a), urban gardening (Poljak Istenič 2016a), green practices of resistance (Poljak Istenič, forthcoming a), and participatory urbanism (Poljak Istenič, forthcoming b). However, the topics were never exclusive and transcended into other practices, places, and concepts. The “creative city” mingled with “sustainable development” and “green capital,” the “creative class” with the “underclass” and “precariat,” and “cultural policy” with “creative industries” and “social inclusion.” This article thus reflects my entanglements with concepts, topics, and discussions, but rather than offering answers to my assumptions it merely raises some questions for further consideration, to a certain degree already discussed in the other articles following this introductory article. 
ALL THINGS CREATIVE: PERSONS, CLASS(ES), CITIES, AND POLICIES 
“CREATIVITY DOESN’T EXIST WITHOUT INDIVIDUAL.” WHAT ABOUT VICE VERSA? Most articles (including Zupan et al. 2017) dealing with creativity in individual-centered academic disciplines cite Joy Paul Guilford’s article (1950) in American Psychologist as the start of empirical research on creativity, although some historical reviews point out that even earlier attempts inspired or influenced creativity studies in various academic fields (Becker 1995; Albert and Runco 1999). The first wave of studies in the 1950s and 1960s dealt with personality psychology, and the second (from the 1970s) with cognitive psychol­ogy, trying to determine what goes on in the mind of people when they engage in creative activity. However, because individuals always create in context, sociocultural approaches developed to offer a more holistic view of creativity, with the aim of explaining complex relationships between individuals, groups, cultures, and organizations that affect creative outcomes—that is, something new (Sawyer 2012). 
Despite the interest in sociocultural contexts, “creativity doesn’t exist without indi­vidual” (Sawyer 2012: 210), and the potential of creative persons for economic development was recognized by the governments of many European countries in the second half of the 1990s. This shift in perception of cultural production in the broadest sense came when cities in the global North—or city economies—found themselves in a structural crisis, with a diminishing manufacturing (industrial) sector and the movement of production, business services, software, and engineering to the global South, and so the need for their urban economic renewal was particularly strong. The creative and/or cultural industries seemed like a perfect niche for new urban economic bloom. They have been understood, discussed, and interpreted in diverse ways (cf. Landry 2000; Florida 2002; Howkins 2002; Scott 2006), but in general they encompass economic activities focusing on creating and utilizing knowledge and information, and in Europe most often concern culture and cul­tural production in its broadest sense. 
The United Kingdom is credited with the formal origins of the creative industries con­cept because the Creative Industries Task Force was established by the Labour government within the new Department of Culture, Media, and Sport (DCMS) in 1997. This marked the continuation of a trend of cultural policies from the 1980s and early 1990s (at least in the UK and Australia), which perceived cultural sectors as contributors to wealth creation and economic performance. The DCMS produced the first mapping document of creative industries in 1998 (DCMS 1998), backed by statistics on employment and wealth creation, a definition, and a list of thirteen subsectors with links to statistical sources. This document allowed local authorities, development agencies, arts organizations, and consultancies to place cultural industry strategies at the center of local and regional cultural and economic strategies (e.g., DCMS 2000). Creative industries then became linked to national cultural and economic policy (O’Connor 2007). Other countries globally soon followed the UK’s lead, although the concept has been understood and developed in different ways (cf. Chapain and Stryjakiewicz 2017). Furthermore, international institutions, such as UNCTAD and UNESCO, adopted a similar approach, which was incorporated into the European Union programs as well (Flew and Cunningham 2010; cf. Breznik Močnik 2011). 
Since then, creativity has been seen as a “savior” of an economy in recession, and there­fore it has received major attention in business and organizational management as well as in education. The goal in both fields has been to increase the creativity of individuals and groups in order to produce employees or teams able to spur business innovations and gain an advantage for a company in business sphere(s). It is no different in Slovenia: this trend is the most apparent in education (various creativity trainers offer workshops for teachers and students at different levels of schooling) and in business (with lectures and training for managerial staff and employees). Methods and approaches, ranging from de Bono’s most popular methods of lateral thinking (1970) and six thinking hats (1985) to rapid prototyp­ing (for more on this method, see Zupan et al. 2017) have been constantly evolving and transmitted to people expected to do (even) better in a knowledge-based economy. 
To bring thinking into every school and an ideator into every organization, so my children will live in a tolerant and innovative society! is the goal (or the mission) of one renowned trainer of thinking techniques in Slovenia, who sees creativity as an equally important skill for life as literacy and arithmetic, and thus in need of practice to properly evolve. However, in her experience, there are not even five companies in Slovenia that understand creativity or innovativeness in this way: They take it as a sort of exoticism that you just need to add a little [to work processes] instead of as a matter that needs constant nurturing. They only exceptionally hire her for long-term training (e.g., lasting at least a year). Nonetheless, the businesses that seek her out are as a rule already the most economically successful and open to new ideas or approaches to business because they are at least aware that their greatest existing resource is their employees and their minds. She has had more success in “implanting” long-term training and activities in educational settings because she has passed her techniques along to several schoolteachers from across Slovenia, who now consistently and continuously train children in lateral thinking and other methods by de Bono during regular classes or in the form of weekly extracurricular activity. However, as soon as creativity training and workshops enter high school, they change the focus from problem-solving and creative responses to developing entrepreneurial skills (cf. Vodopivec 2017). 
Activities for high school students, which “help young people develop business ideas, creativity, independence, and employability” (Društvo Ustvarjalnik), are offered to the fullest extent by the organization Ustvarjalnik (Creator), which holds workshops and events, participates in projects, and educates schoolchildren on the basics of entrepreneurialism and also aids young entrepreneurs in testing their business ideas. Workshops designed to increase creativity and help find (or create) jobs are also held for students and the unem­ployed (cf. Zupan et al. 2017). 
A common denominator of many articles assessing methodologies to develop, unlock, or increase creativity is researchers’ presumption that creativity is inherent and only waiting to be freed or evoked through certain means. Because these articles promote certain methods (e.g., thinking techniques or hands-on exercises) instead of deconstructing ontologized and essentialized creativity, they are often criticized by researchers from the humanities—who, on the other hand, often fall into the same trap, especially when discussing urban trends (cf. Bajič 2017). 
THE “CREATIVE CLASS” MAKES A “CREATIVE CITY”: WHO MAKES WHAT? Regarding urban trends, creative individuals—specifically, individuals with certain occu­pations (deemed creative)—as well as creative environments (that is, places with specific characteristics that encourage individuals’ creativity), have been recognized at least since the 1990s as a key to economic prosperity and are thus a target of spatial developers. Most often these necessary characteristics are highlighted through the (interlinked) concepts of a creative class and a creative city. 
The creative city was developed as a concept by Australian David Yencken in 1988, who argued that creative cities should be smart, green, social (fostering good social connec­tions), and emotionally satisfying; that is, they should create adequate places and structures as well as events and activities (cf. Yencken 2013). The need for new urban developmental models—such as a creative city—arose due to accelerated deindustrialization, which cre­ated the phenomenon of declining cities (cf. Friedrichs 1993) and/or shrinking cities (cf. Haase et al. 2014). 
However, the pioneering work in this area was performed by Charles Landry, who—as a founder of the organization Comedia—participated in several applied projects on city transformation through culture and creativity from the 1980s onwards and published what are today seen as the key works on the creative city (Landry and Bianchini 1995; Landry 2000). He elaborated a new method of strategic urban planning in which creativity is seen as “the lifeblood of cities” (Landry 2008: xii). A proposed model for restructuring the city economy focused on attracting capital, both economic (foreign investment, international corporations, revenues from tourism, etc.) and human—but mostly “of the right sort” (Harvey 1989: 295); that is, the “creative class,” deemed the most capable of producing an added (economic) value (Florida 2002, 2005, 2010). In this context, the “creative city” has also become one of the most prominent branding strategies globally—including for Ljubljana, which (especially after joining the EU in 2004) strove for a more westernized, modern image and thus adopted “EU-ropeanized” models (Ehrlich 2011, 2012; cf. Uršič 2017). 
The framework for Ljubljana’s restructuring into a “creative city”—and its branding as such—was a shift in national cultural policy as well as regional developmental pro­grams leaning toward the European notion of creative industries (for more on this topic, see Bajič 2017). City organizations soon started collaborating in international (European) “creative” projects (Creative Cities, Second Chance, and CC Alps—Creative Companies in Alpine Space, to name a few earlier ones), which focused on developing and promoting the potential of the creative industries. Furthermore, the City of Ljubljana’s Strategy for Cultural Development 2012–2015 (Strategija razvoja kulture 2012) envisaged the importance of cultural and creative industries in numerous cultural fields (e.g., architecture and litera­ture), and the city also tried to rebuild certain public areas into creative districts through public-private partnerships. Recent efforts by Ljubljana to brand itself as a creative city encompass Ljubljana’s inclusion into UNESCO’s Creative Cities Network as the City of Literature (won in 2015) and the announcement of its goal to become the European Capital of Culture 2025 (Strategija razvoja kulture 2016). 
According to its vision, Ljubljana strives to “become the ideal, sustainable place, with a cosmopolitan character and a modern image. A city for the people, tailored to the indi­vidual needs of its citizens, open to investors and professionals from all over the world. As such, Ljubljana will continue to ensure safety and respect for diversity” (Ljubljana European Green Capital 2015: 51). The people it is trying to attract are obviously a “creative class” in Florida’s sense, a dominant class in a society due to its social and economic influence because they are deemed the most capable of producing an added value (in the end an economic one). “Professionals”—that is, highly educated people with “creative” (usually well-paid) occupations, in which they detect or identify problems, search for solutions, and create something new—are, along with investors, thus perceived as ensuring the city’s cosmopolitan character and economic prosperity. 
This concept now prevails in European cultural policy (cf. Green Paper 2010) and many of its national derivatives. Some researchers (including Bajič 2017) point out that such a perception of the creative class is highly problematic precisely due to globalized policy recommendations, but also because of questionable empirical evidence and a fuzzy theoreti­cal basis (Asheim and Hansen 2009). Not all “creative class” groups3 actually contribute to economic growth or produce something new, but instead may act as an “administrative class” (Arvidsson 2007) or a “dealer class” (Krätke 2010). Furthermore, nearly all occupational groups in the contemporary working landscape are subject to a certain mix of creative and simply executive tasks (Krätke 2010: 3), as illustrated by Nina Vodopivec’s (2017) example of implanting an (economic and political) creative agenda into traditional industrial settings as well as by the aforementioned creativity trainer’s question: How will the metal industry create new products and how will it sell them to new markets if it isn’t creative? 
Last but not least, the economic crisis exposed various social responses to worsened existential positions, which are only exceptionally recognized as creative. David Wilson and Roger Keil thus argue that the term “creative class” has been “grossly ‘mis-applied’” because “the real creative class in … cities is the poor”—based on their immense contribu­tions to the contemporary urban economy, deft resourcefulness, and ingenuity in everyday life (Wilson and Keil 2010: 841). George Morgan and Xuefei Ren (2012) also advocate for excluded people and introduce a polemic concept of the “creative underclass” in order to draw attention to people that challenge central discourses of the creative economy and expressively resist the system. Their cultural outputs are usually not commoditized, but obtain value in other ways, as symbolic capital (cf. Bourdieu 1984) or as subcultural capital (Thornton 1995). 
Despite the fact that the proponents of a creative city model emphasize diversity and tolerance as a key component of creativity, non-mainstream social groups remain an unrecognized potential. Taking migrants as an example, statistical data show that they still predominantly perform mentally less demanding tasks (Kozina, forthcoming: 119; cf. Oakely 2006), thus remaining “at best a colorful backdrop to gentrification” (Morgan and Ren 2012: 128). The same applies to “alternative” places, which are generally assessed according to their tangible characteristics (location, architecture, etc.), whereas the intangible elements (i.e., social and cultural elements: social heterogeneity, cultural diversity, subcultural events, etc.) are considered “creative” (or adding to the creative city image) only if entering 
Florida (2002) divided his creative class into a super-creative core (workers that create new knowledge; e.g., scientists, professors, etc.), creative professionals (experts supporting development; e.g., managers, state officials, lawyers, etc.), and bohemians (artists; e.g., musicians, painters, also journalist, etc.). 
a consumerist landscape and acquiring purchasing power (that is, becoming a commod­ity; Uršič 2017). However, the recent economic crisis, which caused considerable gaps in cultural budgets, did induce an infusion of ostensible tolerance and diversity into cultural policies—after stripping the Other out of its Otherness and remaking it into a commodity (Bajič 2017)—because mobilizing grassroots creativity has become the newest urban trend. 
“INCLUDE US OUT!” CULTURAL OR WELFARE POLICY? Precariousness is increasingly becoming a self-evident, unquestionable reality for many people working in culture, especially because this mode of work suits austere cultural (and other) policies. Recently, at least in Slovenia, cultural strategies—rather than developing culture as the key element of identity, self-reflexivity, and quality of life—have concerned themselves with economic effects of culture (that is, cultural tourism, cultural services, creative industries) as well as with social problems, which can supposedly be mitigated through cultural activities (e.g., social exclusion, discrimination, passive citizenship, etc.; cf. Bajič 2017). On the other hand, in the light of considerable funding cuts (especially in cultural budgets at various levels), submitting to the prevailing ideology and system may remain the only possible survival strategy for artists, cultural producers, and other “creative” communities. Despite exposing negative consequences of the neoliberalization of culture, they thus lack decisive oppositional (revolutionary) or explicitly political aspects (Poljak Istenič forthcomig a). This in turn allows the inclusion of their practices into the ruling (prevalent) ideology and their use for PR and/or governance purposes. Moreover, disguised as “participatory urbanism” (for more on this topic, see Poljak Istenič forthcoming b), it becomes “the latest political vernacular of the Creative City” (Mould 2014: 529). Cities use such practices to prove how they abide by European (or rather EUropean) policies because they provide broad access to culture, ensure conditions for fostering creativity, encourage citizen participation, include vulnerable groups, support green practices, and revitalize brownfields. In the absence of alternatives, “austerity creativity” (Forkert 2016) thus generally reproduces dominant ideology and, in the best-case scenario, is merely a “social commentary” of the prevailing social system. 
Slovenia, however, is quite late in practicing “social cultural policy.” A decade ago, UK scholars already highlighted the dangers of such cultural policy, pointing out that “creative industries” (as they are generally imagined) promote “a labor of division” on the basis of creativity as an output (implying a proactive separation of peoples, cultures, knowledge, and wealth according to their potential to work in the creative industries) rather than social inclusion (Wilson 2010: 368). From another point of view, they raised concerns of the inadequacy of cultural strategies as social policy, advocating that policies for social inclusion need to be developed in their own right—or, more bluntly, that “tackling [social inequality and injustice] should be a social and political priority, not an instrumental way of producing more film makers or videogames designers” (Oakely 2006: 271). 
The calls to “include us out” (Oakely 2006) also come from the field. Due to the recent (or current) orientation of cultural funding calls, refugees have become one of the most sought-after goods of humanistically inspired organizations joining educated and creative (often precarious) people. 
Individuals from all mighty organizations need them for their projects, non-governmentals would do workshops with them, artists wish to include them in their creative feats, journalists to write down their stories, academics to study them, photographers to expose them, students to do an internship with them, activists would make a revolution with them and hundreds of filmmakers would shoot documentaries about them. (N’toko 2017) 
Thus, while refugees (or migrants) cooperate in such creative endeavors by day, they suffer from social distress, traumas, and addiction by night, all to no avail, because they are still not granted asylum or allowed to get a job. The failure of cultural policies to solve social problems is therefore self-evident. 
CONCLUSION (OR A STARTING POINT) 
The more I study creativity, the more I find the term—as well as the concept—elusive. It is persistently fashionable, a topic of numerous and diverse studies as well as urban policies, but on the other hand contrasted by a rejection of the current notion of creativity and/or a reluctance to refer to the phenomenon at all (O'Connor 2007; cf. Bajič 2017). The aim of this article was to present the most popular concepts pertaining to creativity and to intro­duce some qualms they posit. The articles that follow in this volume further elaborate on these concepts, leaning on an extensive number of references and practical case studies. In this way, they complement relatively scant studies on creativity in ethnology, anthropol­ogy, and (more or less) related disciplines in Slovenia (e.g. Trstenjak 1981; Pečjak 1987; Makarovič 2003; Ravbar and Bole 2007; Toplak 2008; Žaucer et al. 2012; Adam 2013; Bradač Hojnik and Rebernik 2014; Abram 2015; Bajič 2015; Vodopivec and Adam 2015; Kozina 2016; Uršič 2016; Kozina and Bole 2017; Poljak Istenič, forthcoming a). Certainly it is too ambitions to hope that this lean thematic issue could make an impact on creativity studies, but I nevertheless hope that it will inspire novel imagining, understanding, and studying “all things creative” and offer a sneak peek into creative future(s). 
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USTVARJALNOST UVOD V RAZŠIRJENE KONCEPTE, TEME IN RAZPRAVE 
UVOD 
Ustvarjalnost je dandanes eden od najodmevnejših, plodovitih in izrabljenih pojmov, pa tudi najbolj analiziranih konceptov v družboslovju in humanistiki. Največ klasičnih opre­delitev poudarja dve značilnosti, obe zakoreninjeni v zahodni filozofski tradiciji, tj. razliko oz. novost (inovacijo) in nadarjenost oz. vizijo posameznikov. Pojav je tako vpet v razmerje med tehnologijo in inovacijo, s tem pa okleščen na produkt, ali pa postavljen v domeno nadarjenih, genialnih posameznikov. Vse več (predvsem novejših) je prispevkov, v katerih avtorji zavračajo romantično podobo »samotnega genija« in druge »mite« o ustvarjalnih posameznikih (Weisberg 1986; Monturi in Purser 1995) ter ustvarjalnost razumejo kot družbeni pojav. Pri tem poudarjajo vpliv bodisi družbenih interakcij in skupinskega dela v menedžerskih, organizacijskih ali izobraževalnih okoljih (Fischer idr. 2005; Watson 2007; Wilson 2010) bodisi pomen določenih skupin in prostorov, npr. ustvarjalnega razreda (Florida 2002) in ustvarjalnih mest (Landry 2000). Antropološke študije se prav tako osredinjajo na družbeno razsežnost ustvarjalnosti, tj. naravo in vsestranskost ustvarjalnih procesov kot komunikacijskih in improvizacijskih dogodkov, vlogo socializacije pri vzgajanju ustvarjalnih posameznikov ter (pre)oblikovanje določenih predmetov in posameznikov kot ustvarjalnih, kar jim daje vrednost (Wilf 2014). V »klasičnih« antropoloških zbornikih o ustvarjalnosti je posebej poudarjeno, da je ustvarjalnost človeška dejavnost, ki dane kulturne prakse spre­minja tako, da imajo za člane skupnosti določeno vrednost (Lavie idr. 1993); da ustvarja nekaj novega z drugačno (novo) kombinacijo in transformacijo poznanih kulturnih praks in oblik (Liep 2001); ali pa ta pojav razumejo kot improvizacijski proces, ki je pomembnejši od njegovih inovativnih rezultatov (torej izdelka; Hallam in Ingold 2007). 
Tako široko zanimanje za ustvarjalnost v znanstvenih disciplinah in raziskovalnih domenah ter v ekonomiji, izobraževanju, kulturi in (drugih) uporabnih vedah je pojem spremenilo v modno besedo, prilepljeno na nepredstavljivo širok zbir predmetov, procesov (ali praks) in akterjev. Po eni strani to lahko navdihne kritično konceptualno raziskavo ustvarjalnosti (Bajič 2017), motivira raziskovalce k preučevanju družbenih učinkov, ki izhajajo iz takšnega razumevanja pojava (Vodopivec 2017), širi razumevanje strogo gospodarskih urbanih vizij z vrednotenjem družbenega in kulturnega kapitala (Uršič 2017), zagovarja potrebo po spodbujanju ustvarjalnosti bodočih zaposlenih (Zupan idr. 2017) ali pa frustrira raziskovalca tega pojava, saj ga ta razsežnost zavira pri ustreznem obvladovanju in razume­vanju vsega tega ustvarjalnega »nereda«. Ta prispevek prinaša vpogled v moje »spopade« z ustvarjalnostjo ob raziskovanju izbranih družbenih praks in dejavnosti v Ljubljani v zadnjih treh letih. Opozarjam na nekaj najopaznejših diskurzov o ustvarjalnosti, ki obravnavajo termine in koncepte, kot so posameznikova in družbena ustvarjalnost, ustvarjalni razred, ustvarjalne industrije in ustvarjalno mesto, in jih kontekstualiziram z nekaj zgledi iz Slovenije. 
RAZISKOVALNI KONTEKST IN METODOLOGIJA 
Poleti 2013 me je poziv za prijavo raziskovalnih projektov prisilil k odločitvi, kaj bom v prihodnosti raziskovala; moja dilema je bila, ali naj nadaljujem s preučevanjem tradicio­nalnih (in dokaj nepopularnih) podeželskih pojavov ali naj se raje usmerim k modnejšim (ali sodobnejšim) temam? Ker je bila Slovenija takrat na vrhuncu gospodarske krize, ki je razrahljala zaupanje v gospodarski model, temelječ na želji po kar največjem dobičku, so časopise preplavile zgodbe o družbeno odgovornih posameznikih in skupinah, ki so upo­rabljali nove, ustvarjalne načine za pozitivno spreminjanje okoljskega, socialnega, kultur­nega, gospodarskega ali celo političnega (eko)sistema. V tem kontekstu – z ustvarjalnostjo kot modno temo in (v obliki ustvarjalnih industrij) eno od glavnih strategij reševanja gospodarskih problemov, vedno bolj pa tudi družbenih vprašanj v mestih – sem zasnovala podoktorski projekt,4 ki je na koncu pripeljal do tega tematskega bloka. Ta se naslanja na kvalitativne pristope v raziskovanju in še posebej osvetljuje potencial (ali nepotencial) družbene konceptualizacije ustvarjalnosti.5 
Čeprav sem za potrebe svoje raziskave nenehno premišljala o najprimernejši oprede­litvi ustvarjalnosti, so me navdihovali predvsem omenjeni antropološki prispevki. Tako sem pojav na splošno razumela kot interaktivni družbeni proces, ki izraža preživetvene strategije različnih posameznikov in skupnosti; ti so dejavni predvsem v (urbani) kulturi ter spodbijajo prevladujočo idejo o pomembnosti finančnega kapitala, tako da se bolj opirajo na človeški (družbeni, kulturni, simbolni) kapital. Ob branju literature o ustvarjalnosti in spremljanju različnih medijev je moja raziskava takšnih praks v glavnem temeljila na terenu, v središču pozornosti pa je bila Ljubljana kot kulturno ali ustvarjalno mesto ter kot politično, upravno, kulturno in gospodarsko središče Slovenije. 
V mestu sem najprej mapirala različne prakse, opredeljene kot »ustvarjalne«, nato pa sem jih opazovala z udeležbo na dogodkih, jih fotografirala, klepetala z ljudmi ter opravila 47 formalnih intervjujev z naključnimi udeleženci dogodkov, člani najrazličnejših društev, podjetniki, samozaposlenimi v kulturi, zaposlenimi v nevladnih organizacijah, socialnih podjetjih in javnih zavodih ter s predstavniki Mestne občine Ljubljana in Ministrstva za kulturo. 
Prakse, na katere sem se osredinila in jih uporabila za svojo argumentacijo, so bile dostopnost kulture v muzejskem okolju (Poljak Istenič 2015a), urbano kolesarjenje (Poljak Istenič 2015b, 2016a), urbano vrtnarjenje (Poljak Istenič 2016a), zelene prakse upora (Poljak 
4 Raziskovalni projekt Preživeti, živeti, izživeti: Ustvarjalnost kot način življenja (Z6-6841, 2014–2016) je finančno podprla Agencija Republike Slovenije za raziskovanje (ARRS). 
5 Drugi rezultat bo posebna številka revije Acta Geographica Slovenica (59/1, 2019), ki se osredinja na prostorske (in večinoma kvantitativne) vidike urbanih ustvarjalnih praks (Kozina, Poljak Istenič in Komac, v tisku; Kozina in Clifton, v tisku; Poljak Istenič, v tisku b; Uršič in Tamano, v tisku). Prispevki v obeh publikacijah so bili zasnovani na interdisciplinarni konferenci Ustvarjalna zelena Ljubljana: Od teorije k dejanjem (gl. Poljak Istenič 2016b). 
Istenič, v tisku a) in participativni urbanizem (Poljak Istenič, v tisku b). Vendar teme nikoli niso bile omejujoče, vedno so nakazovale druge prakse, prostore in koncepte. »Ustvarjalno mesto« se je spajalo z »vzdržnim razvojem« in »zeleno prestolnico«, »ustvarjalni razred« s »podrazredom« in »prekariatom«, »kulturna politika« pa z »ustvarjalnimi industrijami« in »družbenim vključevanjem«. Prispevek tako izraža moje zaplete s koncepti, temami in razpravami; a namesto da bi odgovoril na moje predpostavke, bolj postavlja vprašanja za nadaljnjo obravnavo, o katerih do določene mere že razpravljajo avtorji prispevkov, ki sledijo temu uvodniku. 
VSE USTVARJALNE STVARI: OSEBE, RAZRED(I), MESTA IN POLITIKE 
»USTVARJALNOST NE OBSTAJA BREZ POSAMEZNIKA.« KAJ PA NASPROTNO? Večina raziskovalcev (tudi Zupan idr. 2017), ki obravnavajo ustvarjalnost v akademskih disciplinah, osredinjenih na preučevanje posameznika, navaja prispevek Joya Paula Guilforda (1950) v reviji American Psychologist za začetek empiričnega raziskovanja ustvarjalnosti, čeprav nekateri zgodovinski pregledi kažejo, da so študije o ustvarjalnosti v različnih disciplinah navdihovali ali pa so nanje vplivali tudi zgodnejši poskusi razumevanja tega pojava (Becker 1995; Albert in Runco 1999). V prvem valu raziskav v 50. in 60. letih 20. stoletja, ki so se ukvarjale s psihologijo osebnosti, in drugem v 70. letih, pri katerem je šlo predvsem za kognitivno psihologijo, so raziskovalci skušali ugotoviti, kaj se dogaja v umu ljudi, ko se ukvarjajo z ustvarjalnimi dejavnostmi. Ker pa posamezniki vedno ustvarjajo v kontekstu, so se razvili tudi družbeno-kulturni pristopi k preučevanju ustvarjalnosti, ki so želeli ponuditi celostnejši pogled na pojav in razložiti večplastna razmerja med posamezniki, skupinami, kulturami in organizacijami, ki učinkujejo na ustvarjalne rezultate – torej na ustvarjanje novosti (Sawyer 2012). 
Ob zanimanju za družbeno-kulturne kontekste pa vendarle »ustvarjalnost ne obstaja brez posameznika« (Sawyer 2012: 210). Potencial ustvarjalnih oseb za gospodarski razvoj so v drugi polovici 90. let prejšnjega stoletja prepoznale vlade mnogih evropskih držav. Do te spremembe v dojemanju kulturne produkcije (v najširšem smislu) je prišlo, ko so se mesta na globalnem Severu – oziroma mestna gospodarstva – znašla v strukturni krizi, z upadajočim produkcijskim (industrijskim) sektorjem in selitvijo produkcije, poslovnih storitev, programske opreme in inženiringa na globalni Jug, zaradi česar je bila potreba po njihovi gospodarski prenovi še posebej velika. Ustvarjalne in/ali kulturne industrije 
– ki se jih različno razume, obravnava in interpretira (gl. Landry 2000; Florida 2002; Howkins 2002; Scott 2006), v splošnem pa vključujejo gospodarske dejavnosti, usmerjene v ustvarjanje in izkoriščanje znanja in informacij, medtem ko v Evropi največkrat zajemajo kulturo in kulturno produkcijo v najširšem smislu – so se zdele popolna niša za nov urbani gospodarski razcvet. 
Formalno koncept ustvarjalnih industrij izvira iz Velike Britanije, kjer je laburistična vlada pri Oddelku za kulturo, medije in šport (DCMS) leta 1997 ustanovila delovno sku­pino za ustvarjalne industrije (Creative Industries Task Force). S tem so nadaljevali usmeritve (vsaj britanske in avstralske) kulturne politike iz 80. in zgodnjih 90. let 20. stoletja, po kateri so področja kulture imela potencial za ustvarjanje bogastva in povečevanje gospo­darske učinkovitosti. DCMS je leta 1998 tako izdal prvi dokument, ki je obravnaval stanje ustvarjalnih industrij v Veliki Britaniji (DCMS 1998) in je bil podprt tudi s statističnimi podatki o zaposlovanju in ustvarjanju bogastva, z opredelitvijo pojma ustvarjalnih indu­strij in s seznamom njihovih trinajstih podpodročij (vključno s povezavami do ustreznih statističnih podatkov). Ta dokument je lokalnim oblastem, razvojnim agencijam, umetni­škim organizacijam in svetovalnim podjetjem omogočil vključitev ustvarjalnih industrij v središče lokalnih ali regionalnih kulturnih in gospodarskih strategij (npr. DCMS 2000). Vlada je nato ustvarjalne industrije povezala s kulturno in gospodarsko politiko (O’Connor 2007). Druge države po svetu so kmalu sledile Veliki Britaniji, čeprav so koncept razu­mele in razvijale po svoje (gl. Chapain in Stryjakiewicz 2017). Poleg tega so mednarodne ustanove, kot sta UNCTAD (Konferenca Združenih narodov o trgovini in razvoju) in UNESCO (Organizacija Združenih narodov za izobraževanje, znanost in kulturo), ubrale podoben pristop, ki ga je nato v svojih programih »posvojila« tudi Evropska unija (Flew in Cunningham 2010; prim. Breznik Močnik 2011). 
Od takrat se ustvarjalnost vidi kot »rešiteljico« gospodarstva v recesiji, zato je pojem v središču pozornosti tako poslovnega in organizacijskega upravljanja kot izobraževanja. Cilj obeh področij je povečati ustvarjalnost posameznikov in skupin, da bi bili ti zmožni razvijati poslovne inovacije in podjetju pridobiti poslovno prednost. Nič drugače ni v Sloveniji: ta težnja je najočitnejša v izobraževanju (različni »trenerji« ustvarjalnosti ponujajo delavnice za učitelje in učence na vseh ravneh izobraževanja) in podjetništvu (predavanja in usposabljanje vodstvenega osebja in zaposlenih). Metode in pristopi, ki segajo od de Bonovih najpriljublje­nejših metod lateralnega razmišljanja (1970) in šestih klobukov razmišljanja (1985) do hitre izdelave prototipov (več o tem gl. Zupan idr. 2017), se nenehno razvijajo in prenašajo na ljudi, od katerih se pričakuje, da bodo (še) učinkovitejši v gospodarstvu, ki temelji na znanju. 
Spraviti kreativnost v vsako šolo in idejnika v vsako organizacijo, da bodo moji otroci živeli v tolerantni in inovativni družbi!, je cilj (ali poslanstvo) ene od uglednih trenerk tehnik raz­mišljanja v Sloveniji, ki ustvarjalnost vidi kot enako pomembno veščino za življenje, kakor sta pismenost in računanje, kar pomeni, da jo je treba vaditi, če jo želimo ustrezno razvijati. Vendar po njenih izkušnjah ustvarjalnosti ali inovativnosti na ta način ne razume niti pet slovenskih podjetij: Jemljejo jo kot neko eksotiko, ki jo je [delovnim procesom] pač treba še malo dodati, namesto da bi nanjo gledali kot na stvar, ki jo je treba nenehno negovati. Podjetja jo le izjemoma najamejo za daljše usposabljanje (npr. vsaj za eno leto). Kljub temu so tista, ki jo poiščejo, praviloma gospodarsko najuspešnejša in najbolj odprta za nove zamisli ali poslovne pristope, saj se vsaj zavedajo, da je v resnici največji vir, ki obstaja, v njihovih lastnih zaposlenih in njihovih glavah. Moja sogovornica je uspešnejša pri »vsajanju« dolgotrajnega usposabljanja in dejavnosti v izobraževalna okolja, saj je svoje tehnike že uspešno prenesla na kar nekaj učiteljev iz vse Slovenije, ki zdaj dosledno in nenehno urijo učence v lateralnem razmišljanju in drugih de Bonovih metodah bodisi med rednim poukom ali v krožkih po pouku. A takoj, ko treningi ustvarjalnosti in takšne delavnice vstopijo v srednjo šolo, se namesto na reševanje problemov in ustvarjalne odzive osredinijo na razvoj podjetniških veščin (gl. Vodopivec 2017). 
Dejavnosti za srednješolce, ki pomagajo »mladim pri razvoju poslovne zamisli, ustvar­jalnosti, neodvisnosti in zaposljivosti« (Društvo Ustvarjalnik), kar v največji meri ponuja organizacija Ustvarjalnik, ki izvaja delavnice in dogodke, sodeluje pri projektih, izobražuje šolarje o osnovah podjetništva in mladim podjetnikom pomaga pri preverjanju njihovih poslovnih zamisli. Delavnice za povečevanje ustvarjalnosti in iskanje (ali ustvarjanje) zapo­slitve pa se organizirajo tudi za študente in brezposelne (gl. Zupan idr. 2017). 
Skupni imenovalec številnih prispevkov, ki ocenjujejo metodologije za razvijanje, spro-ščanje ali povečanje ustvarjalnosti, je domneva raziskovalcev, da je ustvarjalnost inherentna in kar čaka na svojo osvoboditev ali prebujenje. Ker »oglašujejo« določene metode (npr. tehnike razmišljanja ali praktične vaje, kot je prototipiranje), namesto da bi dekonstruirali ontologizirano in esencializirano ustvarjalnost, so pogosta tarča kritik humanističnih razi­skovalcev, ki pa se po drugi strani tudi sami hitro ujamejo v isto past, še posebej v razpravah 
o nov(ejš)ih usmeritvah urbanega razvoja (gl. Bajič 2017). 
»USTVARJALNI RAZRED« POVZROČA »USTVARJALNO MESTO«: KDO POVZROČA KAJ? Če spremljamo sodobni urbani razvoj, tako ustvarjalni posamezniki (tj. posamezniki z določenimi poklici, ki se štejejo za ustvarjalne) kot tudi ustvarjalna okolja (tj. mesta s posebnimi značilnostmi, ki spodbujajo ustvarjalnost) vsaj od 90. let 20. stoletja veljajo za glavne akterje gospodarske blaginje, zato so tudi ciljna skupina prostorskih načrtovalcev. Nujne značilnosti ustvarjalnih ljudi in prostorov zaobjemata priljubljena (in povezana) koncepta: ustvarjalni razred in ustvarjalno mesto. 
Koncept ustvarjalnega mesta je prvi razvil Avstralec David Yencken leta 1988. Trdil je, da bi morala biti ustvarjalna mesta pametna, zelena, socialna (tj. spodbujala naj bi dobre družbene odnose) in takšna, da vzbujajo čustveno zadovoljstvo; za vse to bi morala oblikovati primerne prostore in zgradbe, dogodke in dejavnosti (gl. Yencken 2013). Potreba po novih urbanih razvojnih modelih – kot je npr. ustvarjalno mesto – je nastala zaradi pospešene deindustrializacije, ki je povzročila mesta v zatonu (declining cities; gl. Friedrichs 1993) in/ ali krčenje mest (shrinking cities; gl. Haase idr. 2014). 
Kljub Yenckenovemu prispevku je pionirsko delo na tem področju opravil Charles Landry, ki je – kot ustanovitelj organizacije Comedia – od 80. let 20. stoletja sodeloval v številnih aplikativnih projektih za transformacijo mest s kulturnimi in ustvarjalnimi dejav­nostmi ter objavil (tudi z današnjega vidika) glavna dela o ustvarjalnem mestu (Landry in Bianchini 1995; Landry 2000). Razvil je novo metodo strateškega urbanega načrtovanja, v kateri je imela ustvarjalnost vlogo »življenjske sile mest« (Landry 2008: xii). Predloženi model prestrukturiranja mestnega gospodarstva je bil osredinjen na privabljanje kapitala, tako ekonomskega (tuje naložbe, mednarodne korporacije, dohodki iz turizma itn.) kot tudi človeškega – a predvsem »prave vrste« (Harvey 1989: 295), tj. »ustvarjalnega razreda«, ki naj bi bil še najbolj sposoben ustvariti dodano (gospodarsko) vrednost (Florida 2002, 2005, 2010). V tem kontekstu je »ustvarjalno mesto« na svetovni ravni postalo tudi ena od najpomembnejših strategij znamčenja – kakor tudi v Ljubljani, ki si je (zlasti po vstopu v Evropsko unijo leta 2004) prizadevala, da bi bila čim bolj podobna mestom na zahodu in bi imela mod(er)no podobo, zaradi česar je sprejela »EU-ropeizirane« modele (Ehrlich 2011, 2012; prim. Uršič 2017). 
Okvir za preoblikovanje Ljubljane v »ustvarjalno mesto« – in njeno znamčenje kot take – je bil premik nacionalne kulturne politike, pa tudi regionalnih razvojnih programov, k evropskemu pojmovanju ustvarjalnih industrij (predvsem po letu 2008; več o tem gl. Bajič 2017). Ljubljanske organizacije so kmalu začele sodelovati v mednarodnih (evropskih) »ustvarjalnih« projektih (npr. Creative Cities, Second Chance in CC Alps – Creative Companies in Alpine Space, če omenim le nekaj zgodnejših), ki so se osredinjali predvsem na razvoj in spodbujanje potenciala ustvarjalnih industrij. Poleg tega je mestna kulturna strategija (Strategija razvoja kulture 2012) poudarjala pomen kulturnih in ustvarjalnih industrij za razvoj številnih kulturnih področij (npr. arhitekture in literature), mesto pa je s sklepanjem javno-zasebnih partnerstev hkrati skušalo preoblikovati nekatera javna območja v ustvarjalne soseske. Nedavna prizadevanja za uveljavitev blagovne znamke »ustvarjalnega mesta« se kažejo predvsem v vključitvi Ljubljane v Unescovo Mrežo ustvarjalnih mest (naziv Mesto literature je Ljubljana prejela leta 2015) in v napovedi, da želi slovenska prestolnica leta 2025 postati Evropska prestolnica kulture (Strategija razvoja kulture 2016). 
Po svoji viziji bo Ljubljana v naslednjem desetletju »postala idealno, sonaravno mesto s svetovljanskim značajem in sodobno podobo. Po meri ljudi, prilagojeno potrebam pre­bivalcev, odprto za naložbenike in strokovnjake z vsega sveta. Ljubljana bo tako še naprej zagotavljala varnost in strpnost do drugačnosti« (Ljubljana European Green Capital 2015: 51). Ljudje, ki jih mesto skuša privabiti, so očitno pripadniki »ustvarjalnega razreda« (kakor ga razume Richard Florida), ki naj bi v družbi prevladoval zaradi svojega družbenega in gospodarskega vpliva ter naj bi bil še najsposobnejši ustvarjati dodano vrednost (prej ali slej v gospodarstvu). »Strokovnjaki« – tj. visoko izobraženi ljudje v »ustvarjalnih« (navadno dobro plačanih) poklicih, ki odkrivajo ali prepoznavajo probleme, iščejo rešitve in ustvarjajo nekaj novega – naj bi torej mestu, skupaj z vlagatelji, zagotavljali svetovljanski značaj in gospodarsko blaginjo. 
Ta koncept trenutno prevladuje v evropski kulturni politiki (gl. Green Paper 2010) in v številnih njenih nacionalnih različicah. Nekateri raziskovalci (tudi Bajič 2017) poudarjajo, da je takšno dojemanje ustvarjalnega razreda zelo problematično tako zaradi globalizira­nih političnih priporočil kot tudi zaradi nezanesljivih empiričnih dokazov in nerazvidne teoretske osnove (Asheim in Hansen 2009). Vse skupine »ustvarjalnega razreda«6 dejansko ne prispevajo h gospodarski rasti ali ustvarjanju novega, temveč lahko bolj ali manj delujejo kot »administrativni razred« (Arvidsson 2007) ali »trgovski razred« (Krätke 2010). Ob tem pa morajo skoraj vse poklicne skupine v sodobni delovni krajini opravljati tako ustvarjalno delo kakor zgolj izvrševati praktične naloge (Krätke 2010: 3). To ugotovitev ponazarja tudi Nina Vodopivec (2017) s primerom tradicionalnega industrijskega okolja, ki je industrijski delovni proces »prevedlo« v ustvarjalni, dobro pa jo povzame vprašanje omenjene trenerke tehnik razmišljanja: Kako bo kovinska industrija ustvarila nove izdelke in kako jih bo prodala novim trgom, če ni ustvarjalna? 
Naposled pa je gospodarska kriza razkrila različne družbene odzive na poslabšanje eksistenčnih razmer, ki le izjemoma veljajo za ustvarjalne. David Wilson in Roger Keil tako trdita, da se izraz ustvarjalni razred nanaša na napačne ljudi, saj so »pravi ustvarjalni razred v […] mestih revni« – če sodimo po njihovem ogromnem prispevku k sodobnemu urbanemu gospodarstvu, spretni iznajdljivosti in domiselnosti v vsakdanjem življenju (Wilson in Keil 2010: 841). George Morgan in Xuefei Ren (2012) prav tako zagovarjata družbeno izključene posameznike in uvedeta polemični koncept »ustvarjalnega podrazreda« (creative underclass), da bi opozorila na ljudi, ki preprašujejo osrednje diskurze ustvarjalnega gospodarstva in se s svojo ustvarjalnostjo upirajo trenutnemu sistemu. Rezultati njihovega kulturnega ustvarjanja navadno niso spremenjeni v porabniško blago oz. dobrino, pač pa vrednost dobijo na druge načine, kot simbolni kapital (Bourdieu 1984) ali kot subkulturni kapital (Thornton 1995). 
Čeprav zagovorniki modela ustvarjalnega mesta poudarjajo raznovrstnost in strpnost kot glavni sestavini ustvarjalnosti, družbene skupine zunaj prevladujočih tokov ostajajo neprepoznan potencial. Če, na primer, omenimo priseljence, statistični podatki kažejo, da ti večinoma še vedno opravljajo miselno manj zahtevna dela (Kozina, v tisku: 119; prim. Oakely 2006) in so tako »kvečjemu barvno ozadje gentrifikacije« (Morgan in Ren 2012: 128). Enako velja za »alternativne« prostore, ki so navadno ovrednoteni po snovnih značilnostih (lokaciji, arhitekturi itn.), medtem ko se nesnovne (tj. družbeni in kulturni elementi, kakršni so družbena heterogenost, kulturna raznovrstnost, subkulturni dogodki itn.) kot »ustvarjalne« – ali kot dodatek k podobi oz. znamki ustvarjalnega mesta – razume le, če postanejo del porabniške krajine in pridobijo tržno moč (tj., postanejo blago; gl. Uršič 2017). Vendar pa je nedavna gospodarska kriza, ki je povzročila precejšnje vrzeli v kulturnih proračunih, v kulturne politike kljub vsemu vnesla navidezno strpnost in raznovrstnost – po izločitvi Drugega iz njegove Drugačnosti in njegovem preoblikovanju v tržno blago (Bajič 2017) – saj je pritegnitev samonikle (grassroots) ustvarjalnosti postala najnovejša urbana strategija. 
Florida (2002) je ustvarjalni razred razdelil na ustvarjalno jedro (delavci, ki ustvarjajo novo znanje, npr. znanstveniki, profesorji ipd.), ustvarjalne profesionalce (strokovnjaki, ki podpirajo razvoj, npr. menedžerji, državni uradniki, odvetniki ipd.) in boeme (umetniki, npr. glasbeniki, slikarji, pa tudi novinarji ipd.). 
»VKLJUČITE NAS VEN!« KULTURNA ALI SOCIALNA POLITIKA? Prekarnost postaja samoumevna in nesporna realnost mnogih ljudi, ki delujejo v kulturi, zlasti zato, ker ta način dela ustreza krizni (tj. varčevalni) kulturni politiki (in tudi drugim). Vsaj v Sloveniji se nedavne kulturne strategije – namesto da bi se bolj osredinjale na razvoj kulture kot osrednjega elementa identitete, samorefleksije in kakovosti življenja – posvečajo gospodarskim učinkom kulture (tj. kulturnemu turizmu, kulturnim storitvam, ustvarjalnim industrijam), poudarjajo pa tudi družbene probleme, ki bi jih kulturne dejavnosti lahko omilile (npr. družbeno izključevanje, diskriminacijo ali pasivno državljanstvo; gl. Bajič 2017). Po drugi strani je podrejanje prevladujoči ideologiji in sistemu v času krčenja javnih sredstev (sploh v kulturnem sektorju, in to na različnih ravneh) pogosto edina mogoča preživetvena strategija umetnikov, kulturnih producentov in drugih »ustvarjalnih« skupin. Kljub opozorilom na negativne posledice neoliberalizma in njihovo razkrivanje pa akterjem ta eksistenčna podreditev odvzema revolucionarni oz. politični naboj (Poljak Istenič, v tisku a). Še več, takšne prakse, zamaskirane v »participativni urbanizem« (več o tem Poljak Istenič, v tisku b), postajajo »zadnji politični žargon ustvarjalnega mesta« (Mould 2014: 529). Mesta te prakse praviloma uporabljajo za dokazovanje uresničevanja evropske (oziroma EU-ropske) politike, saj omogočajo širok dostop do kulture, zagotavljajo spodbudne razmere za razvoj ustvarjalnosti, spodbujajo civilno udeležbo, vključujejo ranljive skupine, podpirajo zelene prakse in revitalizirajo degradirana območja. V odsotnosti alternativ »krizna ustvarjalnost« (Forkert 2016) pogosto reproducira dominantno ideologijo in je v najboljšem primeru kvečjemu »družbeni komentar« prevladujočega sistema. 
Vendar pa je Slovenija dokaj pozna v izvajanju »socialne kulturne politike«. Že pred desetletjem so angleški znanstveniki razkrivali nevarnosti take usmeritve in poudarjali, da ustvarjalne industrije (kot si jih na splošno zamišljamo), namesto da bi bile družbeno vključujoče, pravzaprav spodbujajo »delo(vanje) razlikovanja«, tj. nenehno ločevanje ljudi, poklicev, kultur, znanja in bogastva na osnovi ustvarjalnosti kot prispevka h gospodarstvu oz. glede na zmožnost za delo (delovanje, učinkovanje) v ustvarjalnih industrijah (Wilson 2010: 368). Po drugi strani pa nekateri opozarjajo, da so kulturne strategije kot socialna politika neustrezne, in zagovarjajo, da je strategije družbenega vključevanja treba uveljaviti kot samostojen političen ukrep. 
Pozivi »vključite nas ven« (Oakley 2006) prihajajo tudi s terena. Zaradi nedavne (ali trenutne) usmerjenosti razpisov za podporo kulturnim projektom so begunci postali ena od najbolj iskanih dobrin humanistično navdihnjenih organizacij, ki združujejo izobražene in ustvarjalne ljudi (pogosto ujete v prekarno delo). 
Posamezniki iz vseh mogočnih organizacij jih potrebujejo za svoje projekte, nevla­dniki bi z njimi izvajali delavnice, umetniki jih želijo vključiti v svoje kreativne podvige, novinarji zapisati njihove zgodbe, akademiki jih preučevati, fotografi bi jih razstavljali, študenti bi z njimi opravljali prakso, aktivisti bi z njimi izvedli revolucijo in stotine filmarjev bi o njih snemale dokumentarce. (N’toko 2017) 
Medtem ko begunci (ali priseljenci) čez dan sodelujejo v takih ustvarjalnih prizade­vanjih, ponoči trpijo zaradi socialnih stisk, travm in zasvojenosti; takšna udeležba tudi ne zagotavlja pridobitve azila ali dovoljenja za delo. Neučinkovitost kulturnih politik za (raz) reševanje družbenih problemov je torej očitna. 
SKLEP (ALI ZAČETEK) 
Bolj ko raziskujem ustvarjalnost, zmuzljivejša se mi zdita tako termin kot koncept. Oba sta že dolgo v modi, zato je ustvarjalnost tema tako številnih in raznovrstnih raziskav kot tudi urbanističnih politik. Po drugi strani pa nekateri zavračajo sedanji pomen pojma ustvarjalnost in/ali so na splošno zadržani pri sklicevanju nanj (O'Connor 2007; prim. Bajič 2017). Namen tega prispevka je bil predstaviti najbolj razširjene koncepte, ki se nanašajo na ustvarjalnost, in nanizati nekatere pomisleke ali dvome, ki jih vzbujajo. 
Prispevki v nadaljevanju podrobneje pojasnjujejo predstavljene koncepte, pri čemer se naslanjajo na obsežen seznam virov in literature ter praktične študije primerov. Na ta način dopolnjujejo razmeroma redke študije o ustvarjalnosti v etnologiji, antropologiji in (bolj ali manj) sorodnih znanstvenih disciplinah v Sloveniji (gl. npr. Trstenjak 1981; Pečjak 1987; Makarovič 2003; Ravbar in Bole 2007; Toplak 2008; Žaucer idr. 2012; Adam 2013; Abram 2015; Bradač Hojnik in Rebernik 2014; Bajič 2015; Vodopivec in Adam 2015; Kozina 2016; Uršič 2016; Kozina in Bole 2017; Poljak Istenič, v tisku a). Želja, da bi ta tematski blok lahko vplival na študije ustvarjalnosti, je vsekakor preambiciozna, kljub temu pa upam, da bo navdihnil nova zamišljanja, razumevanja in preučevanja »vseh ustvarjalnih stvari« ter ponudil vpogled v ustvarjalno(-e) prihodnost(-i). 
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INTERVIEW/POGOVOR 
Trainer of thinking techniques, Ljubljana, February 11th, 2016 / Trenerka tehnik razmišljanja, Ljubljana, 11. 2. 2016. 
Saša Poljak Istenič, PhD/Dr., Research Fellow/znanstvena sodelavka, ZRC SAZU, Institute of Slovenian Ethnology/Inštitut za slovensko narodopisje, Novi trg 2, SI-1000 Ljubljana, Slovenia/ Slovenija, sasa.poljak@zrc-sazu.si