In “Originals - How Non-comformists move the world”, author Adam Grant shows that there is an incorrect but popular bias towards creative genius belonging mostly to younger people. He goes on to show that our actual tendency towards originality depends on the style in which we innovate: conceptual or experimental.
Conceptual innovators. These are almost all people under 30: Einstein, E.E. Cummings, James Watson. They have a Big Idea and execute it. This type of innovator has a fresh perspective, unencumbered by the “impact of accumulating experience … fixed habits of thought”. They are sprinters.
Experimental innovators. These are people who have breakthroughs later in life: Leonardo da Vinci, Mark Twain, Frank Lloyd Wright. This type of innovator uses “trial and error, evolving as they go, don’t have a specific solution in mind at the outset”. They are patient, marathoners.
The more experiments you run, the less constrained you become by the ideas from the past. You learn from what you discover in your audience, on the canvas, or in the data. Instead of getting mired in the tunnel vision of your imagination, by looking out into the world you improve the acuity of your peripheral vision.
— Originals, How Non-conformists move the world, Adam Grant
I have two takeaways here: one, if you were a big dreamer in your youth there is still hope if you don’t fight switching to an experimental approach, and two, for those of us who weren’t blessed with the blinding, brilliant insights of youth we can still produce creative breakthroughs.
What does it mean to be creative through experimentation? I think of it as iterative and intentional noodling on a possibly-hidden, larger idea. The example of Leonardo is him returning to the Mona Lisa later in life and applying all he had learned. My wife is constantly trying new art techniques using different materials, often painting over previous work. It might mean bringing your musical knowledge to a new instrument or diving deep into programming new drum tracks on the path to writing a song. Maybe you create a prototype for a woodworking project or a coding project. Maybe you setup a new game night or work towards competing in a new sport.
To sustain our originality as we age and accumulate expertise, our best bet is to adopt an experimental approach. We can make fewer plans in advance for what we want to create, and start testing out different kinds of tentative ideas and solutions. Eventually, if we’re patient enough, we may stumble onto something that’s novel and useful. … ‘Leonardo [da Vinci] works like a sculptor modeling in clay who never accepts any form as final but goes on creating, even at the risk of obscuring his original intentions.’
— Originals, How Non-conformists move the world, Adam Grant
I certainly do not claim genius but I’ve often felt the burden of that “accumulating experience, fixed habits of thought”, feeling how it slows me down and generates indecision in even the smallest things. Previous hurts - perceived slights from my past or even just the memories of hitting my thumb with a hammer or rolling and ankle - shout at me “not again!” when I start a physical activity. Past small creative projects or purchases that turned into whole universes of extra work flash warning signs in my head that say “this one could take up all of your time!” when I attempt something new.
Becoming an experimental innovator flips the script on that burden: that accumulating experience becomes the wisdom of our years. In the same way as the ‘crone’ is seen as a nasty old hag, she is also seen as a wise old healer. Successfully integrating the lessons we’ve learned from our past with a patient, experimental approach to our creative drive can become a superpower. At the very least it might allow us to build something without hitting our thumbs with the hammer quite so often.
Tinker on, friends.