So we were driving innocently through the wonderful Vermont fall countryside when we spied a sign that told us that a couple miles further on we would find the Museum of the Creative Process.
I said that I thought it would be a lot of people sitting around looking desperately at blank pieces of paper.
My wife thought it was the house of a graphic designer who never threw anything out and whose wife told him in exasperation that he should charge people to come and see the mess.
Sad to say we never found the Museum.
I think the sign is all there is. It started our creative processes and left us to come up with our own ideas – though admittedly not brilliant ones. All process and no outcome – ah well.