Creativity in research

If you are reading this post, then hopefully you are already aware that I am a scientific researcher… what you might not know if that my brother is a musician (one could probably describe him as a singer-songwriter). At first glance, you might think that our professions are totally different, but I’m here to tell you that our jobs are much more similar than you might think!

In fact, although we have a reputation for being boffins in lab coats crunching numbers, there is more to the job of being a scientist than punching numbers in a calculator. In reality, although there is a time for knuckling down and implementing ideas, the fundamental situation of a researcher is not so different from that of an artist: you sit at the edge of what’s been done before, trying to find the next step.

Almost by definition, a scientist takes the body of work around them and tries to build upon it in order to create something new. And that sentence works exactly as well if you replace the word “scientist” with the word “artist”. Both are trying to progress, and both are building on an existing network, be it a web of research articles or the discography of a particular genre.

I can’t help but point to this amazing keynote presentation given by the Monty Python legend John Cleese, on how to be creative. His talk is aimed at managers in businesses, but all the content is applicable to anyone who needs to be creative. In the video, he distinguishes two modes that one can work in: closed and open.

The closed state of mind is one where people can apply themselves with vigour and concentration, to get something done. This is what the stereotype of the researcher points to, and it’s true that a large part of the job is in this mode: writing up software to perform data analysis, methodically checking a manuscript draft, reviewing documentation or attending long and technical meetings. Artists and musicians, despite the more bohemian stereotypes, also need to do this sort of work: laying down and mixing a track, preparing a canvas, learning lines off by heart, writing blurb for flyers. These are not creative tasks, but they need to be done to make sure a project actually sees the light of day.

But the open state of mind is more relaxed and less purposeful, and is conductive to being playful and curious: this is a sort of brainstorming mode, where new ideas can come. It’s easy to imagine a guitarist in this mode, strumming tunes and singing along, or a graphic artist doodling. But researchers must do it too: when confronted with a new and intractable problem, or when trying to figure out how to achieve a scientific goal when the technology or methods don’t exist yet… well, in those cases one can’t just turn the handle and get the answer. One needs to think creatively.

In the video, Cleese gives tips to get into the creative mode. The main points are that one should reserve a fixed amount of time (like, 1.5 hrs) , should have no distractions (phones, emails, skype, Mattermost, Facebook, whatshapp… all OFF), and just do something you WANT to do, rather than the endless list of things you NEED to do. I try to reserve such headspace for myself at least once every few weeks, and in addition to being great for mental health, I’ve already found that this process has helped me to solve problems and make breakthroughs (small ones, but meaningful to me).

As I think I’ve noted before, particle physics is at a cross-roads, where we have new challenges on the horizon and for the first time decades, we don’t have a good theory model to guide us. Hence, we need new and creative ideas more than ever.

To finish off, an anecdote. About a year ago, I was trying to think of a way to better preserve the results of some on my new physics searches, so that they could be impactful for longer. It’s a thorny problem, and we had a partial solution which sort of worked, but had some major flaws. I decided to dedicate one my “creative mode” sessions to this problem. Nothing came of it immediately. But a few days later, I had an incredibly vivid dream, and I woke up knowing with certainty the solution to my problem. I felt like Paul McCartney writing Yesterday. And you know what? the solution worked.