Recently re-reading Lisa Canning’s wonderful piece “Innovating through Artistry” I am reminded of a surprising challenge we face in promoting the value of art and artists. We work hard to demonstrate our value in a world that is hard skilled, bottom line, and ROI driven. We take the challenge to cross the border into the land of business, policy, and technology. And, yet, I wonder how hard we make it for ourselves in the ways we patrol our own borders and how easily we welcome others into our midst as fellow artists and designers.
One of the possibilities that inspires me most is teaching as many people as possible (and especially our kids) to be artistically and creatively adept, able to learn the skills and mindsets that characterize the “creative class.” Following the inspiration of local artists to democratize the arts and designers who promote the spread of “design thinking,” I have created curriculum and programs that teach the processes of art and design to “non” artists and designers, to give them a very powerful platform from which to change the world.
In the process I almost inevitably come against the question of who gets to be an artist or a designer. When I first started talking about teaching design to community members as a way to engage community challenges, some of the biggest resistance came not from business or community leaders but from some professional and academic artists and designers who I approached as potential partners. They expressed concern that I was trivializing or dumbing down their art and discipline by implying that anyone can be an artist or designer. Or, that if we share the knowledge too easily, it will be taken from us and that we will no longer be needed. Or, that one only becomes a “real” artist or designer after years of training and practice.
I struggle with this question, because there is an important distinction between someone with years of formal training and professional experience and someone who is an amateur. And, yet, we are all artists and designers by virtue of being human, and the more we cultivate and spread that capability and sense for the world, the better off we are.
So, who gets to be an artist or a designer?
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No Idea Left Behind—The Preservative Power of Boxes
In Creativity and Innovation, ENTREPRENEUR THE ARTS, Outside Your Comfort Zone on June 6, 2009 at 4:36 pmThink outside the box.
We all know that our intellectual boxes can limit us. They can eliminate options, make us overly cautious, and generally just get in the way of innovation and creativity. Eventually, they can breed a “silo mentality,” an afflictive state of mind that strikes at the very moment we most need to come up with new solutions to pressing problems.
And yet at the same time, we love boxes. You know this if you have ever experienced the Container Store. The Container Store sells containers of all shapes and varieties, designed to solve all varieties of organizational problems. The Container Store also sells something much more important. Walking through the store discovering possibilities it becomes clear that the Container Store actually sells hope–hope that you can actually get your stuff organized and easily accessible, even if for just a day or two.
And, it turns out that much of what we need to keep in our containers and boxes is stuff that we’re not sure what to do with, but we think might be useful at some point in the future. We do the same thing with ideas and discoveries, relying on our intellectual boxes, disciplines and traditions, to keep ideas viable, even when they don’t have any direct or obvious application.
Early on teaching at the University of Texas I worked with a graduate student who studied medieval monastic texts—treatises, guides, handbooks, poetry, and devotionals. This graduate student was running the real risk of becoming a living caricature of the academic who studies something obscure and useless. That is until I met a senior manager at Dell Corporation who was very interested in creating retreats for mid and upper level managers to help them revitalize themselves and their careers. I helped this manager at Dell connect with faculty who did research on management and organizational change. I also connected the manager with this graduate student. And, as it turned out, the graduate student ended up being a key resource, precisely because of their intimate knowledge of how to do a retreat, the long term transformative power of a retreat, and why retreats started in the first place.
Go to any design house, and you will almost certainly find a “bone pile.” The bone pile is the place where all the ideas that don’t work for now get collected with the assumption that they may well help solve a future problem. Designers, like all smart creative folks (and kids), do not like to throw anything away, because they never know what may prove to be useful later. Some design houses even label and categorize their not-yet-useful ideas and designs to make it easier to find them when the time comes.
We often don’t know which ideas are before their time, after their time, or just haven’t found their time. If used well, our intellectual boxes help us maintain ideas while we find new ways to use them. This means that we need to constantly ask ourselves how else we can better use our boxes and what’s in them. What new configurations of boxes (talents, disciplines, experiences, historical perspective) can we create to effectively respond to challenges as they emerge? How can we better network our boxes to become more proficient at moving among them? When our boxes limit us, it is seldom because of the boxes themselves. It is usually because we have become too comfortable and have stopped using our imagination.









