The Complexity of Simplicity by Ashley Lasko

In the first few years of my education we’d have composition notebooks we used as a journal. We were always told to write about our weekend, what we did, who accompanied us, and if we had fun. Every Monday morning we’d sit in our assigned, elementary chairs and describe whatever we wished. We’d hold our pencils in the most impractical manner, misspell every word over three letters, and used choppy, three word sentences. I don’t remember much from these journals, except that we were constantly told to keep writing. If we stopped before the five minutes allotted to writing were used up, we were doing something wrong. If you couldn’t think what to write about, than just write the same letter over and over again. This was obviously a method to keep a student from writing two words than quitting, but it had a different effect on me. I remember hearing this, becoming scared stiff of disobeying the teacher, and writing whatever I could think of. I started to repeat myself and add unnecessary details to write something of substance.

This placed complexity over simplicity. I began to focus on writing something on appropriate length as oppose to something of appropriate context. As I started middle school teachers began to use the phrase “quality over quantity”. Teachers were trying to steer us away from writing for length as opposed to a point, but this was a sudden and ineffective change. It was difficult to change my focus of writing so abruptly, and I continued to write much more than I needed to in a paragraph or an essay. As a high schooler, I have improved my writing. I generally know when I have written enough and avoid repeating myself. However, I still feel more confident handing paragraphs as opposed to a few sentences.

Of course, there’s something to be said about the importance of complexity. Including every fact you learned in a lecture on the unit test can ensure a good grade. Adding details to a painting or drawing can help it appear complex and realistic. Writing vivid and intricate descriptions of scenery can help a reader stay interested in your story. However, simplicity can keep answers short and to the point, speeding you through a test. Fewer details in a drawing can provide a challenge to express an idea and give the piece its own style. Withholding information in a novel can add mystery and let the reader create their own characters in the story.

Both simplicity and complexity are important and are best in balance of one another. However, much more stress is placed on how complex, intricate, and detailed something can become, rather than the potential of it when all its excess is stripped away. When comparing complexity and simplicity, I used school, painting, and writing as examples. However, it’s not often these examples (with the exception of art, as minimalism is dedicated to simplicity) are simple as they can be. Rather, I feel people tend to make things as convoluted as possible, cramming details into whatever they can.

As a society, we focus on what we can add to something, or how we can increase the complexity of it. We ask ourselves what we can add to our habits, food, and clothing. This limits us. Taking away extra details does not make something less, but simpler. We do not need to add extravagant designs to every shirt we wear, we don’t need to add every spice in the book to make appetizing foods, nor do we need every minute of our lives dedicated to something. The simplicity of a t-shirt and sweatpants, the basic flavor of buttered bread, and the potential of free time can be just as impactful and important.

Whether writing an essay, deciding what to eat, or planning what to do, recognize that the simple is answer is not a bad one, but simply an uncomplicated one.