Greetings to anyone seeking several minutes of creative distraction! I hope our last nudge, contemplating the qualities of the ice cube, yielded some cool results. Perhaps you designed a sub-zero soundscape or finally learned to say goodbye through documenting ice as it washes away. Whatever the result, I hope those melting cubes helped you embrace the value of impermanence and observe the beautiful process of transformation found in our holiday rituals and traditions.
This week, we move from the ephemeral chill of the ice cube to a potent, proof of purchase: the receipt. This small slip of paper (or more likely these days, text or email) is an artifact of consumerism; one noticeably less plentiful than before. We are often given a choice to skip the paper receipt, a small eco-conscious act that also manages to erase the physical trace of our daily transactions.
Do we need receipts less? Absolutely. Our apps record every transaction. You don’t have to buy something to generate a record, just looking or talking about objects is enough in our digital age! Paper proof is downright archaic when it comes to modern commerce. All this makes one thing clear: receipts are in need of a new purpose. Where better to find a new purpose than through artistic expression?
For me, this digital revolution is good for the waste stream and efficient for business, but it removes a tangible, chronological record of our lives. The receipt, whether digital or physical, is a record of a decision—a moment when a need (or a want) met an exchange of value.
Think about that long, curling paper receipt you still get when leaving a big box store. There’s a capitalistic power dance at play when security stops you for one final “quality check” at the sliding doors. It's an instant moment of accountability and recognition of systemic distrust. I sometimes wish that checkpoint could also be a “return to sanity” moment for consumers, where I get to hand back anything I already regret buying.
And what about the receipts I don’t want to show to anyone? Like my impulse buys at a checkout counter, gifts for the holidays, or that family size bag of peanut M&M’s I ate on the ride home.
Our ideas about receipts—what we value, what we hide, and what we throw away—can offer useful insights into our own creative process. Our creative acts also involve an exchange of value. We choose what to document, what to hide, and what proof of our struggle we are willing to keepsake.
By focusing on this transactional record, we can find ways to create art for art's sake, free from the need for external validation or proof. Use one or more of these creative nudges to make something that can only be returned for store credit:
The Unpurchasable: Create a receipt for something you truly cannot buy or physically own. Examples might include: A Moment of Perfect Silence, The Feeling of Creative Flow, A Day of Complete Forgiveness, or The Skill of Perfect Parallel Parking. Assign prices and quantities based on perceived value (e.g., 1 unit of Creative Flow at $999,999.00). Document the item name, price, and the date of your "transaction" with the universe.
Consummate Consumer Collage: Gather a collection of paper receipts. Use them as the primary material for a small collage or a three-dimensional sculpture. Do not worry about the items bought; focus on the texture, the colors (fading thermal ink), the long, thin shape, or the repeating text. What beauty or meaning can you derive from its purely visual and tactile form?
Checked Box: Recall a moment a security guard or employee checks your receipt against the items in your cart. How does it feel to be automatically questioned without context of your character? Does it make you act out of character? Write a brief monologue or scene from the perspective of either the checker or the shopper. Use this moment of public inspection and judgment to explore themes of trust, guilt, or public validation.
Transaction Translation: A receipt is the final output of a process (scan, total, print). Use the final printed numbers and words on a receipt to create a rhythm or sound pattern. Let numbers represent drum beats (1 = tap, 5 = boom) and vowels represent vocal tones. "Translate" a receipt into a short, abstract musical composition that captures the feeling of the purchase.
Hidden Desire: Read a receipt as a chronological record, seeing the items listed there as if they were purchased in the order you chose them. What are the things you picked up last…impulse buys or the things you almost forgot? Write a short piece of reflective writing about the items. What does that reveal about your state of mind that day?
The receipt, whether discarded instantly or filed carefully, is a record of choices. By engaging with it, we can better understand the true investments we make—both in the marketplace and in our creative lives. We learn that sometimes, the most valuable transactions are the ones we can't get a receipt for, and that the greatest proof of purchase in art is the work itself.
This column was written with the help of Google’s Gemini Advanced, a powerful generative AI writing tool.
