On the Origins of Innovation... and Art

A recent study suggests that innovation consists of five separate processes: associating, questioning, observing, networking and experimenting. Sounds reasonable enough. But what about art? Is it the same process as innovation?

Let’s do a thought experiment. We know that the mind has tremendous powers of logic, coupled with the ability to synthesize diverse concepts. Given a sequence of numbers 2… 4… 6… it predicts 8. Given the knowledge that protons and neutrons pair up to make atoms, the mind can easily extrapolate all the elements in the periodic table. Nothing artistic here.

But when the mind is afforded knowledge about evolution and genetics and the role of DNA, using all of its powers of reason and logic, it is unable to predict the existence of kangaroos. Why? Because kangaroos and giraffes are accidents of nature, produced by unpredictable mutations.

As it turns out, nature wields her artistic brush with her eyes closed.  She relies on happy accidents in order to innovate. Does the creation of art require a similar unpredictable serendipity?

Anyone who has ever worked in watercolor knows that we often rely on similar “happy accidents” for interest and texture in an under-painting, a sky or the foreground.  We flood the paper with colors letting the water and paint do its own mixing.  A “bloom” is created when a wet stroke is placed alongside a nearly dry area.  Pigments, water and watercolor paper must cooperate with the artist’s inspiration for art to happen.  Have you ever finished a piece and wondered “how did I do that”?

How do I know when I'm done?

It takes a fresh eye…

Every artist (writer, musician, artisan) knows the feeling.  Unlike placing the last piece in a puzzle, or completing a crossword, the creator never knows precisely when her work is finished.  There is always room for one more brush stroke, one more adjective, one more bead.  How do we know when to quit?

Some art works have their own way of telling us that they are over-embellished or over-worked.  In watercolor painting and creating jewelry, less can be more.

I was thinking about these things today as I added beadwork to these bronze pendants that I had fired weeks ago.  Yesterday I selected the beads for each of them and spent hours trying different configurations for stringing.  Did the beads complement the stones and color in the pendants?  Were the various shapes, sizes and textures true to the style of the bronze work? 

Now notice the necklace in the center of the picture.  I strung simple amethyst beads with spacers in the middle of the strand and added larger, more colorful beads to one side.  Not sure if I liked the look, I left it lying on the workbench overnight.

This morning I looked at it with fresh eyes and saw something different: a different kind of symmetry.  The pendant is as irregular as the unfinished strand of beads, with its smooth and rough edges.  Somehow, hanging from this lop-sided strand, it seemed right.  There is something appealing about the asymmetry.  Something artistic…

Is it finished?  I’ll allow my eyes to refresh themselves again before I decide.