Destruction as an act of creation
- May 3
- 3 min read
I've been thinking about how creation and destruction are not opposites, but are one and the same.
Well, creation and destruction are differentiated by perspective, not by any essential quality. They are one thing viewed differently—two sides of the same coin. Like the relationship between light and dark, one cannot exist without the other.
Even in the act of creating—say, a drawing, for example—you are destroying the quality and the state of the paper that existed before. The paper was blank, and you are destroying that blankness and creating the drawing: a new form, a new state for the paper to exist in.
In building a house, for example—a wooden house—you are destroying a tree in order to get material to build something new. But also, you are destroying what the land was to create a new state for the land to be.
Even in the most mythological, primordial sense of the universe, as depicted in creation stories around the world—let’s say specifically the Christian creation myth—in the act of creating the world, the “Lord” would have destroyed what the world was, ie. the formless void, and in the act of creation, that infinite stretch of water as it is described in the Bible—is destroyed. It no longer exists as it was.
Because once creation begins, what was doesn’t simply change—it no longer exists, at least not in that form.
And so in realizing that, I think I'm beginning to understand that my idea of creation as something inherently benevolent—while it comes from a good place, is fundamentally misguided.
It’s a kind of fantasy.
There is no creation without destruction. Creation necessitates the destruction of the world as it is now, in some form.
The act of creating a work of art literally changes the world. We are constantly destroying and creating, deconstructing and reconstructing, in everything that we do.
Building a house, regardless of the material. Writing. Thinking. Even imagining the future.
We are actively destroying the present and creating a new present.
And this connects to the relationship between the past and the future. In envisioning the future, we are actively dismantling the past. We are moving forward, and all of us—as agents, regardless of intelligence or species—all animals, all plants, all living things that actively create themselves, create microcosms, create environments, are simultaneously destroying what was.
So I think this changes the way I see creation as a force.
It’s not inherently benevolent.
It’s neutral.
And that means there’s a bigger, broader perspective to be had about materials, sustainability, and ecological harmony—one that takes into account the fact that we are always destroying and recreating the world.
And so rethinking what it means to be sustainable through that lens becomes a completely different challenge.
I’m almost not sure where to start.
Because then it means that building with concrete is not inherently destructive. I mean, it is—but it is also an act of creation, if you know what I mean. It’s not inherently bad in isolation.
So maybe the way we should be thinking about it is this:
Does the level of creation justify the level of destruction?
Are we balancing the harm with the benefit?
Because if we are destroying but not creating something of equivalent value—something beneficial to ourselves, to our health, to ecology, to other animals, to other human beings—then are destroying more than we are creating?
Or rather, are our creations a net negative instead of a net positive.
Because in that sense, destruction is a kind of negative creation.
And what we’re trying to do is balance that out, somehow.
I suppose.
I’m still thinking.
What do you think?


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