Beautiful Ignorance

In my previous posts, I've explored how expertise can sometimes kill creativity and how audience expectations create impossible standards for artists as they evolve. I have one final perspective to this topic. BTW Don’t hold me to this. Every time I think I’m finished with this though, another idea pops into my head.

I have one more idea on this topic: The rules themselves.

In every creative field, there are rules. Conventions. Standards. Best practices. The accumulated wisdom that gets passed down through education and training. But what happens when we don't know these rules yet?

Well…something magical.

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Breaking Rules You Don't Know Exist

There's a cool story about Miles Davis that relates to this. When he was recording 'Kind of Blue,' he deliberately gave his musicians minimal prep. Legend says he gave them the modal scales just before recording. Though these were accomplished musicians (like Bill Evans and John Coltrane), Miles wanted their fresh, spontaneous responses rather than rehearsed performances.

Obviously you know the result. A revolutionary jazz album that broke free from convention.

I believe Miles Davis understood something profound: musicians who don't know they're breaking rules don't hesitate. They don't second-guess. They simply follow their instincts. They simply do.

When we don't know the rules exist, we can't be paralyzed by the fear of breaking them. Instead, we rely on the skills that got us there and let the magic free-flow from there.

The Weight of Knowledge

Think about a kid drawing. They don't worry about perspective or proportions. They don't care about color theory. They simply create with unbridled imagination and joy. You may see purple polka dotted faces and elephants with 6 legs.

Then art education happens.

Art teachers need curriculum. So they are forced to structure lessons around a subject that is built around free form expression! Suddenly there are rules about composition, about shading, about how light works. Knowledge accumulates, and with it comes the burden of correctness.

I've seen this happen with my own creative process. The more I learned about design or photography or painting, the more I found myself second-guessing.

Knowledge becomes a weight. A filter that ideas must pass through before reaching the canvas.

Unlearning as a Creative Strategy

Perhaps the most famous quote on this topic is from the filmmaker Jim Jarmusch. You may not know who he is but you probably have seen a few things he’s directed: probably his 2019 film, The Dead Don’t Die? Anyway, he once said: "Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination... Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul."

What's interesting about this advice is that it requires you to know enough to steal effectively but remain ignorant enough to combine influences in ways that experts might consider "wrong."

Picasso's African-inspired period emerged because he approached African masks and sculptures without their full cultural context. He was first exposed to African art at the Trocadéro Museum in Paris around 1907. It (in turn) led to a radical shift in his work, eventually helping birth Cubism.

Was this cultural appropriation? By today's standards, probably (and that's a complexity worth acknowledging). But it also demonstrates how partial knowledge combined with fresh eyes can transform what expertise might dismiss as misunderstanding into radical innovation.

The Intermediate Plateau

There's a phenomenon in learning known as the 'intermediate plateau' or 'Valley of Despair.' Beginners make bold, sometimes brilliant mistakes because they don't know better. Experts innovate because they understand the rules so deeply they know precisely when and how to break them.

But intermediates: the ones in the middle, those who know just enough to recognize rules but not enough to transcend them, often produce the most conventional work.

They're trapped between ignorance and mastery. Conscious of rules but not confident enough to break them.

Many creative careers stall in this intermediate phase. We learn enough to become self-conscious about breaking rules but not enough to break them with authority.

Strategic Ignorance

Could it be that strategic ignorance is a creative superpower? That deliberately not learning certain rules might preserve the very innocence that leads to breakthrough ideas?

Brian Eno's "Oblique Strategies" deck which I mentioned in my first article contains a card that simply says: "Honor thy error as a hidden intention."

This isn't just accepting mistakes. It's recognizing that what expertise labels as "errors" might actually be new pathways that knowledge would have prevented you from discovering.

Honor thy error as a hidden intention

Some artists deliberately impose constraints on themselves that force ignorance. Composers who write for instruments they don't play. Painters who use power drills to splatter paint with unpredictable outcomes. In many ways, my recent obsession with shooting soccer matches with film cameras is an arbitrary constraint that I hope brings more creativity.

We're creating artificial ignorance. We’re forcing ourselves into positions where our expertise can't rely on established patterns.

The Human Thread of Unknowing

Earlier, I questioned whether expertise sometimes kills creativity. Then, I explored how audience expectations create impossible standards as artists develop.

Now I see another thread: this creative power of not knowing.

The moments when we step outside our expertise, when we venture into unfamiliar territory, when we embrace beautiful ignorance. These might be our most creatively fertile times.

Perhaps the most innovative creative strategy isn't accumulating more knowledge but cultivating a beginner's relationship with our knowledge.

Holding it lightly.

Being willing to set it aside.

Creating artificial spaces of not-knowing.

Maybe the most human thread of all is our capacity to stay between knowing and not-knowing, expertise and innocence, between rules and our beautiful ignorance of the rules themselves.

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