A True Gift Is Never Yours
In Lewis Hyde’s 1979 book The Gift: Imagination and the Erotic Life of Property, he describes not only the philosophy, historical significance, and various cultural traditions surrounding the exchange of gifts, but the underlying pattern that governs how creative energy behaves. He believed as creative ideas exist in the collective unconscious and are channeled into reality rather than invented, gifts too have their own higher intelligence which seeks emergence through individuals. This, Hyde claims, is true of both physical gifts and personal talents as gifts. Once a gift of any kind is shared, it initiates movement amongst people that inevitably leads to more sharing.
Hyde is most famous for inspiring the Burning Man’s gift economy, where no money is exchanged during the festival. His book invites us to think of gifts as a constantly flowing river and ourselves as conduits for its current. “When someone tries to dam up the river, one of two things will happen: either it will stagnate or it will fill the person until he bursts,” he explained. When we give and receive freely without expectation, we transcend consumerism, that insatiable lust that effectively dams up the river with endless desire. Even reciprocity, the simplest form of gift exchange, can feed this lust and create stagnation between a small group of people. When given freely, what was once singular becomes relational.
The moment the gift is expressed, it extends beyond its point of origin - a poem or song becomes someone else’s memory, a piece of art becomes someone else’s inspiration, a gift of food is ingested and gives sustenance. After a gift leaves its source, it starts weaving connections, creating threads between people linked through its passage. Here, the function of the gift begins to reveal itself - in a system of commodity exchange, all that matters are the materials exchanged. In a gift economy, the gift itself is secondary to the network it creates and the unspoken invitation to keep giving. Throughout the book, Hyde makes the case for considering the impact on the artist of having to survive in a world of commerce, and the artist’s impact on the world.
“The true commerce of art is a gift exchange, and where that commerce can proceed on its own terms we shall be heirs to the fruits of gift exchange: in this case, to a creative spirit whose fertility is not exhausted in use, to the sense of plenitude which is the mark of all erotic exchange, to a storehouse of works that can serve as agents of transformation, and to a sense of an inhabitable world - an awareness, that is, of our solidarity with whatever we take to be the source of our gifts, be it the community or the race, nature or the gods,” Hyde wrote, referring to the erotic as it pertains to eros, the energy of physically expressed love that drives sexual expression and artistic creation. We can share in this solidarity with artists by understanding the dilemma. We know the fruits of their labor can never reach us if creating art is reduced to a purely profit-driven enterprise, and yet, we all must eat.
“Gifts have a gravitational pull that draws things into relation and keeps them there.”
The artist must engage the market by participating in transactions that allow them to earn a living, while still remaining dependent on the often mysterious nature of creative inspiration. Sharing their gift exists at the intersection of these two realities, and any successful artist must hold this tension. Whether a creative or physical gift is offered, the giver takes the risk of it not being well-received. This emotional risk, great or small, real or perceived, is another aspect of the dynamic tension that powers the profoundly rewarding impact of both giving and receiving. Each new risk quickens the river current of giving’s innate intelligence, which Hyde believes is eternally seeking its next expression in those touched by a gift’s impact.
This connection ripples out into a greater movement of connection, and the word ‘eros’ captures its essence. Gifts have a gravitational pull that draws things into relation and keeps them there. Most commodities are inert - relevant for some usually brief period of time and then forgotten. A gift, by contrast, is charged - its value is not fixed but cumulative through movement and interpersonal interaction, deepened through use. To give, rather than accumulate anything, be it material possessions, knowledge or creative capacity, is to make space for more to come in. Anthony Keidis, in his autobiography Scar Tissue, described this beautifully as he explains his hit “Give It Away” was inspired by a gift he received from a dear friend whose jacket he really liked.
This friend, singer and German punk icon Nina Hagren, gave Anthony the jacket right after he complimented it. When he insisted he couldn’t take it because it was the coolest garment in her closet, she told him, “That’s why I gave it to you. It’s always important to give things away; it creates good energy. If you have a closet full of clothes and you try to keep them all, your life will get very small. But if you have a full closet and someone sees something they like, if you give it to them, the world is a better place.”
A true gift is never yours, because even if you keep it, the moving, living current of giving is still passing through you and inspiring more generosity. You don’t get back what you gave, you may not keep all you receive, but you do solidify your place in the flow. “Give It Away” says it best: