The majestic building above is the monastery at Novy Dvur, Czech Republic. It was designed by John Pawson, a former English teacher who dropped out of architecture school.  How good is he?  He designed Ralph Lauren’s house.  I can’t imagine a more demanding client, but on the other hand, it’s a hell of a compliment to Pawson - who also designed a home for Ian Schrager, the visionary developer of some of the world’s most iconic boutique hotels.  So, yeah: Pawson’s the man. He also religiously follows a useful technique for innovation: physicalizing.

Rather than explain what physicalizing means, I’ll post a picture of the interior of Pawson’s architectural offices.

This wall is a tacit acknowledgment that staring at a blank piece of paper and thinking really hard is one of the least-effective ways to make things.  Better to engage more of the brain by getting potential combinations where we can see and rearrange them.  For Pawson, that means taking and collecting photographs.  He describes photography as “a daily practice” - in monastic terms, essentially.  The pictures on his office wall are an idea bank of textures, colors and shapes - raw materials he combines to uncover the previously hidden.

Physicalizing depends on a tolerance for ambiguity, a key characteristic in creativity.  The truth is most of what we collect is never used; a lot of what we do use ends up used in a way we couldn’t anticipate.  As a result, collecting ideas is an investment with a highly uncertain return.  That’s very, very difficult for some people to understand. 

This might help.

This is the leather-wrapped door handle of a Mini Paceman concept automobile.  Like the rest of the car, it was designed by Anders Warming, Head of Design at the Mini division at BMW. Before Warming put pencil to paper on the Mini, he assembled a massive collection of images - from rock bands to houses to old computers - and mounted them on a wall. The door handle above was inspired by a photo of an old leather soccer ball.  Did he know what the soccer ball would mean when he took the photograph?  He did not.  Warming is now a fervent convert to physicalizing on an idea wall.  He was quoted in the WSJ, “Now we can’t take it down.  It’s our working tool.”

Is this just for designers?  No.  Most of the created world is “designed”, if the definition is opened up a bit.  A supply chain isn’t art in the conventional sense, but it’s still a design, which means it can be represented by cards or plastic soldiers or whatever you like.  There’s probably a psychological reason why creative artists gravitate to the process, but that doesn’t mean it’s less useful for other enterprises.

Aren’t sites like Pinterest idea walls? In theory, yes - but with significant disadvantages.  1st, most blog content is archived away, out of sight and mind.  2nd, information can’t be easily recombined.  Ideally, you should be able to move stuff around as easily as pieces in a jigsaw puzzle.  And finally, Pinterest is social media, which means what’s posted is curated to make the poster look cool. That misses the point of physicalizing ideas entirely.

So, how do I use this? There are 2 advantages to physicalizing ideas, and you want to take advantage of both. First, expand your idea pool.  Step 1 here is to move beyond collecting things just to post online to make yourself look cooler.  Instead, invest in collecting ideas/images/objects in which you sense meaning or utility.  These 2 activities are different enterprises.  Someone might “like” your finished product; the raw pieces, probably not.

Second, before you work on a project, assemble as much as you can into a place where you can see everything. This will almost certainly require moving off-line.  Take another look at John Pawson’s office.  That’s a significant space commitment - and it includes the space beyond the wall itself.  There’s clear area for a long view, where you can see big swaths of stuff.  But you can move in and rearrange as needed.  That’s how combinatorial innovation happens.

Judd Apatow has a rep: King of the Bromance.  But now, he’s got a new show coming: GIRLS, on HBO.  Although he’s not writing the show, he’s Exec Producing - which means he’s the keeper of the creative flame.  My bet is that he’ll get the zeitgeist right. To illustrate, let’s look at a previous work, Knocked Up - and see how he got women into theaters to see (and love) a farting, pot-smoking, porn-site-developing slacker named Ben Stone.

Ask 20-35 year-old women today about the opposite sex, and you’ll hear again and again: “For the love of God, we want men to be men - not boys in men’s bodies.”  A lot of women want men to be more assertive - to be more traditionally masculine.  They understand it’s a little complicated these days, but come on - would it kill you to pick up the check?  To put down the beer bong and get a job? To make a freaking commitment?

This, incidentally, is not cool to discuss in some circles.  It’s considered anti-feminist.  But, of course, the living, breathing ticket-buying culture doesn’t care about what’s politically-correct - it just rocks on being its authentic self.  And the deeply-felt longing among many women for men to take charge once in a while - old school - is quite real.  Not all women, of course …

Possibly doesn’t attend many romantic comedies

At the beginning of Knocked Up, Ben Stone (played by Seth Rogen) epitomizes the slacker stereotype. He’s also recently impregnated the much-hotter, much-more-successful Alison, played by Kathryn Heigl.

“I’m seriously freaked out and unprepared for this.”

So much, women are likely to hate.  But by the end of the film, Ben is transformed, Beauty and the Beast style: he’s got a steady job (cubicle!), read his baby books, and got his own apartment (with baby room!).  Still, for the Z to be fully acknowledged, Ben needs to assert himself - to be a man. In Knocked Up, this means that Ben must overthrow Alison’s sister, the shrewish Debbie.  She’s got to be moved.

You might think, this being the 21st century and all, that Apatow would ease into it.  Be respectful.  Ummm, No. Remember, Apatow isn’t playing to the womyn’s studies department at Sarah Lawrence - he’s playing to the mass zeitgeist. In that world, women aren’t waiting for one more sensitive guy.  They’re genuinely longing to feel the security of a strong, assertive man. Let’s see how it’s done.

Alison’s in the maternity room, and the baby is on its way. Debbie, acting again as surrogate husband, has told Ben to shove off.  We have our moment of truth: Will Ben finally be a Marlboro Man?

INT. HOSPITAL - HALLWAY
Ben and Debbie talk in the hallway alone.
                                BEN
                   I’d like to be in there with
                   Alison…without you.
                                DEBBIE
                   Okay. I understand how you feel, but
                   this isn’t up to you.
                                BEN
                   Look, Debbie, you are high off your
                   ass if you think you’re coming into
                   that room. If you take one step
                   towards that door, I will tell
                   security there’s a crazy chick in a
                   pink dress snatching up babies. Okay?
                   So don’t even try to come into that
                   room. That’s my room now. That little
                   area with the Pepsi machine…that’s
                   your area.

(points to hospital room)

                   My room.

(Points to waiting area)            

                     Your area. Stay in your area. Stay out of my room. Back
                     the fuck off.

Ben Stone is now officially, satisfyingly (to the women who flock to Apatow comedies) a man.  But we need to see the reaction for the women in the audience to reach … let’s call it sateity.  Apatow doesn’t disappoint - the very next scene:

INT. HOSPITAL - WAITING ROOM
Debbie sits down in a seat next to Pete.
                                              PETE
                               What are you doing here?
                                              DEBBIE
                               He just kicked me out. He told me to
                               leave. But I guess it’s good, right?
                               He said he’s going to take care of
                               her. He really seems on his game. I
                               think he’s going to be a good dad. I
                               think I like him. Thank God.                                            

Not included in the screenplay is the huge sigh Debbie gives before the last line. It’s almost post-coital in its satisfaction.

This is how it’s done: you find the Z - the attitudes, anxieties and aspirations of the target audience, then articulate those values back to the audience with maximum empathy.  There’s a reason women come to Apatow movies.  It’s all about the Z.

Apatow gets women and doesn’t pull punches.  He’s proved it before - and my money’s on him getting it right again with his new show. Can’t wait to see how he plays it to a younger demographic.

I’m gratified so many of you have re-blogged my take on role the zeitgeist plays in the popularity of The Big Bang Theory, while Community is pushing against the same tide.  Most people (those with a dictionary?) get it: saying TBBT is in more tune with the popular Z doesn’t mean it’s better than Community, which is an entirely different discussion.  Most who disagree actually make my point by writing things like, “It’s easier to understand,” etc.

So: for those who don’t understand what the zeitgeist is, I refer you to 2 posts earlier, on Adele and The Hunger Games.

One of the key attributes of creative professionals is the empathy to understand how others view the world - and a staunch resistance to the narcissism that says, “People who disagree with me are morons.”  We all tend to live in enclaves of fairly-similar opinions, and eventually, we can become dismissive of ideas that differ from our own.

This is treacherous business for people who get paid for making things.

When George W. Bush was reelected in 2004, some of my liberal friends in the industry (New York, LA), were honestly shocked. 

“How could this have happened? I don’t know a single person who voted for that man.” 

But, of course, millions voted for “that man.”  It’s just that most of my coast-based pals didn’t know any of them - or any who admitted it, at least.  But here’s the fun part:

Fast forward 4 years, and Obama’s standing in a Chicago stadium packed with … fans?  Yes - that’s the word.  And this time, my conservative friends (Nashville) were just as surprised.

It turns out neither politics nor intelligence insulates us from thinking our view is the only view.  We acknowledge some diversity of opinion in theory, and then roll right on through life acting as though it doesn’t exist.

This is tricky stuff, and pros can get it wrong.  Getting the Z right doesn’t mean better.  It also doesn’t mean worse, by the way.  It just means “in tune” - no more, no less.  And that sense of “in tune” helps creative work thrive in the marketplace.  Right now, TBBT is thriving, and Community isn’t.  There are a few reasons why, and the precise way TBBT portrays Geek “otherness” is a significant one.

Lots of people try to outsmart this and watch their work vanish.  Remember: The Z will not be mocked.  Incidentally: of the 2 shows, I prefer Community.

Next post: A Judd Apatow masterclass on getting it right.

When creative work breaks out into mega-hit status, you can usually work backwards and discover a ghost at work … the Zeitgeist.  The Z is the amalgam of prevailing attitudes, opinions, anxieties and aspirations of a generation at a given moment in time.  Pop entertainment that succeeds commercially articulates those attitudes back to the culture with great empathy.  Nobody in music right now is more on target than Adele, and the massive success of the Hunger Games in print and film shows the story is hitting the creamy center of the Z, too.

But what attitudes are these works articulating?  In Adele’s case, it’s not just the nostalgia craze - witness Bruno Mars looking like he’s singing for the Temptations, just like it was 1975 - but rather, something deeper.  The force driving that trend is a desire to look back for comfort while the future looks bleak. 

Fashion editor Christina Brinkley put it this way:

“Climate change, a global financial crisis, an occupying force on Wall Street—we no longer expect science or math to make the world safe. Far from it. But we want something cozy and familiar—and what could be sweeter than motherhood, all dolled up as properly as Donna Reed in 1958?“

Right: so that explains Adele looking like a ’50s housewife dressed for an evening out, and Katy Perry channeling ’40s pinup girl Bettie Paige.  But how about The Hunger Games?

At the root, both Adele’s romantic nostalgia and The Hunger Games apocalyptic view of the future have tapped this generation’s growing distrust that things are getting better - something a 1970’s teenager would have regarded skeptically, and a 1950’s kid would have regarded as absurd.  That’s the thing about the Z … it never sleeps.  It’s like wind in a sail, moving the ship of culture along.  In this case, it moved the culture right into the arms of Lions Gate Pictures and Adele.

More power to them.

Neuroscience and creativity are having a moment right now. Humans love to control things, and if scientists can tell us how to control creativity … that would be great, right?

But There. Are. Problems. Using neuroscience to explain creativity is like asking an endocrinologist to tell you whether or not you’ll like sushi.  The endocrinologist can definitely tell you some things about how your body responds to sushi, but he doesn’t know much about whether or not you enjoyed it.

Jonah Lehrer’s new book, which was given a couple of coveted pages in the Wall Street Journal, illustrates the dilemma. Imagine: How Creativity Works reveals its bias in the title. We’re gonna break this motha down, see?  We’re gonna get it to do our bidding. 

Like most of the new breed of “creativity” books, Lehrer rests his case on what scientists conclude from watching lots and lots of people’s brains encased in MRI sensors.  Few, and often none, of the people involved actually make things for a living, which makes them susceptible to snippets of fascinating and ultimately useless information.  One classic study recently found increased activity in parts of the brain associated with creativity after a couple of drinks.  So be sure and show up to work at your design firm a little hammered, K?

Take Mr. Lehrer’s “10 Creative Hacks” - a list of 10 largely irrelevant things to do to rev up your creativity.  This sketchy list includes such gems as “Get Groggy”, which is based on a study (that makes it important!) showing increased activity in the “creative” areas of the brain when people are less alert.  Another is “Daydream Away”, noting that people who daydream score higher on creativity.  I doubt working creatives need much motivation to daydream, although they have lots of experience working groggy.  Typically, work quality goes down in that state, because having an interesting thought and getting it up and out of the brain in useful form are 2 different things - as anybody who’s tried to crank up early after a long night can attest. So, Mr. Lehrer’s “creativity hacks” are super-helpful for anyone who can put together a productive life while a little hammered and sleepy.

The real, working hacks to creativity aren’t silliness like Lehrer’s list (another item advises to paint your room blue, because, you guessed it - a study!).  The real hacks are the things that have worked for creatives for years - things like physicalizing and finding new context for old materials.  Things, in short, you don’t need your brain watched to find out.

Yuki Katsuta, owner and lead designer for Uniqlo’s immensely successful clothing line, does things like put pictures of houses on a board and then imagines the clothes for people who live there.  A recent example was a classic American boat house. Pretty cool, considering he was in China when he did it.  And he wasn’t drunk, or sleepy, and his studio walls are off-white.

Scientists get hard over their studies, because they live and die on getting published - not by helping people, per se.  So “discovering” something legitimately means everything to them.  It’s tenure, a promotion, some props from the academic dean.  But creativity doesn’t happen in the isolation of a brain scan.  It occurs in a working domain -  in Katsuta’s case, the domain of designing clothes. The context of creativity is complex, but watching blood flow through a brain isn’t, at least not in the same sense.  It’s complex in a scientific sense, but ultimately, what you’re doing is still … watching … blood … in … the … brain. 

Neuroscience is having its moment regarding creativity.  More scholarly papers are being written about creativity by scientists than by artists - and that’s not necessarily good news. Here, for example, are 3 things that have mattered most to my creative life … and none of them will show up on a brain scan.

1. I grew up on a cattle ranch. The sky was a million miles high, the horizon so empty and wide I could stand and turn in a circle and not see a building. That gave my imagination a chance to form. I thank God - and being somewhat religious, I mean this literally - that I grew up before the invention of the video game. I spent the first 18 years of my life un-connected in a way that American children will never experience again. When I grew up, the term “Social Networking” meant a pie supper at church. So that’s about 1/3 of what formed me creatively.

2. I grew up with a surpassing privilege of having a blind mother. As a result, all the Arvin men are much more verbal than we would otherwise be. She was, and remains, a fierce, curious intelligence. I grew up describing the world to her. I watched movies sitting beside her in the theater, whispering what was happening in her ear. Also, she was an English major in college. This meant language counted. Although we lived on a working cattle ranch, she was a trained lawyer and eventually became a judge. She was by no means shy about correcting me. So, I grew up in very special soil: wide open, fertile, and describing the world for someone else. That was about 1/3 of what formed me creatively.

3. I grew up playing the piano. Eventually, I became a professional musician, and that was the only job I held for more than 25 years. This taught me about phrasing, about the rhythm of a sentence or a thought, and above all, how to communicate in metaphor. That was about 1/3 of what formed me creatively.

So, then: my first 18 years were spent in the wide open space deeply connected to nature, learning at the feet of a wise, verbal woman, and I spent the next 24 years playing a musical instrument, learning a non-verbal language. 

Beware scientists who think the secrets of creativity reside in a scan - they’re looking for funding.  Beware, too, people who consider creativity nothing but a “killer app” for business.  Businesses hate ambiguity, because they can’t monetize what they can’t control.

Instead: think about love, craft, and commitment. Think about learning the rules of your craft so thoroughly that you can create within and beyond them.  Think about communicating meaning.  And let the scientists amuse themselves.