Productive Discomfort

Thoughts on “Negative Capability” or What do we lose when we cannot be uncomfortable?

In 1817, the poet John Keats wrote a letter to his brothers. In it, he discussed King Lear and Shakespeare’s capacity for what he termed “Negative Capability,” musing that a great thinker or artist “is capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact & reason.” (For more visit the Poetry Foundation.)

Put in somewhat plainer terms: “negative capability” is the quality of being able to resist familiarity and instead, embrace doubt and possibility. 

What do we lose when we cannot be uncomfortable?

When we reach for the easy classifications and systems that Keats feared, we close ourselves off to possibilities. We stay with the status quo. We become reductive, rather than expansive. We trade curiosity for comfort. 

What if we are willing to sit in discomfort? What if we allow ourselves to wrestle with it, to welcome it rather than view it as a form of attack or rejection? It is through this tension that we break through to more interesting, vibrant ideas.

I had not encountered the phrase “negative capability” before (special thanks to writer and poet Alice Miller for introducing me to it!), but the words arrived with an electric jolt of familiarity. As a devised theatre practitioner, I’ve developed my own term for describing the ability to tolerate “not knowing”: productive discomfort.

A journal note from 11.13.23:

"Productive discomfort" --> being able to stay in a space of not knowing (in a creative process) until I arrive in a more complex position, or arrive at clarity; changing opinions or changing world view."

Where does discomfort show up and how can we use it to our advantage?

PROCESS

A key aspect of productive discomfort relates to being able to withstand discomfort in an artistic experience. When we practice productive discomfort, we resist the urge to quit or stop listening, and instead, we stay curious for just a little longer. It means building the creative muscles to resist easy conclusions or tidy construction. 

Discomfort may show up when an artistic process is defamiliarized, for example, when an artist is asked to remain in the process phase without rushing towards product.

Sometimes, as artists, a panic sets in: We must know what it is that we are creating! We cannot deviate from our initial proposal!  However, if we can withstand that natural sense of panic and sit in the discomfort of “not knowing” where an artistic inquiry will terminate, we can reach beyond our initial impulse and towards our “third best idea.” 

A great description of this is found on Decoding Creativity: 

“By now, you’ve already brainstormed through the obvious ideas (the first third) and even the somewhat cool or new ideas (the second third). And most of us quit right there. When your ideas start getting absurd, bizarre, laughable – you’ll see something there, something utterly new. This is the magic of the Third Third.” (https://www.decodingcreativity.com/the-third-third/)

If you are maintaining a commitment to being comfortable, you most likely aren’t going to reach that magical stage of the “third best idea.”

CONTENT

Discomfort can be attached to the content of the work itself. This may be especially true for those of us working in the realm of social justice theatre or topical themes.

Do you have a tolerance for having your assumptions called into question? 

Can you embrace ambivalence? 

How often have our personal assumptions or beliefs been challenged by a piece of art or a collaborator? 

When art confronts, our instinct may be to keep it at an arm’s length. If we do that, we risk dismissing or rejecting it entirely. Nazzarena Labo reminds us: “If it doesn’t evoke, provoke, invoke, stoke, revoke, uncloak, what is theater?” 

COLLABORATION

Sometimes, discomfort arrives as an instinctual, physiological response. Being out of your comfort zone can trigger the nervous system. It may result in sweaty palms or a pit in your stomach, or maybe flushed cheeks. Or maybe it causes you to feel quiet, at a loss for words. 

What can these physical responses teach you? Can you allow them to be a guide for where you can be curious about what there is to discover? They could be a signal for you that there is room for growth, as a human and as an artistic collaborator.

If we can practice productive discomfort -- withstanding the “not knowing” as an artist -- we can move forward into a new level of creativity. 

Keats’ concept of “negative capability” seems to me about being willing to wrestle with uncertainties, to challenge oneself to stay in the unknowing, rather than race towards safer shores.

When there is, arguably, so much real danger and harm around us -- certainly those in the United States at the present moment -- art may be the only space in which we can work these muscles.

Melissa Moschitto (she/her) is a playwright, director and producer advancing the form of research-based investigative theatre. She is the Founding Artistic Director of The Anthropologists. She received NYC Women's Fund Grants for two World Premieres with The Anthropologists: axes, herbs and satchels (2025) and No Pants In Tucson (2021).