(2023-10-18) Obenauer Adding To The Corpus Of Ideas Some Observations On Process

Alexander Obenauer: Adding to the corpus of ideas, some observations on process. My exploration into the operator environment for an (itemized) OS of the future has been guided by need and intuition, but how I’ve reacted to those forces has evolved over time. If you’ll allow some naval-gazing, I’ll share some observations and reflections on process.

My present aim is to add to the corpus of ideas. Fundamentally, I believe the ideas we’re working with today aren’t very good. There’s a very high bar; we can only work on so many things. So I have this heavy bias towards divergence in my work. Diverge and diverge again.

Rich pathways into divergence often don’t come from direct reasoning, but from exploring the terrain important ideas seem to inhabit.

Discussions of process from artists offer rich inspiration for unfettered research. Rick Rubin’s book, The Creative Act: A Way of Being, is the latest entrant, and I highly recommend it.

A bias towards divergence can be hard to hold. People often have a natural inclination to converge new thinking and ideas as soon as they pop up; to settle them, relate them to previously settled ideas

To outside observers, processes for divergence may look odd when elongated.

The more I zoom out, the more I can see the natural patterns. I’m looking for more noise to read better signals. Progress to me can read as retrogression to others

Some people have a particularly hard time sitting with unanswered questions. They will interpret curiosity as ignorance, and optimism as naivety.

If I’m looking for more possible answers, I’ve found that presenting two demos at a time helps with feedback. When I present zero answers, just the question, many tend to critique the question itself: whether it’s valid in the first place, whether it’s phrased correctly, and often, whether answers could even exist. If I demonstrate one possible answer, people critique all the details of that particular execution. But if I present two possible answers, people compare and contrast the two, and move to the higher-level thought

Another way I’ve learned that demos can accidentally elicit converging feedback when I’m looking for divergence is due to how I work with prototypes: decent polish (hi-fi) is often the only way I can tell if an idea is janky or not. I have to clear all the jank. Demos of early thinking might be presented in nice packages, with good design, proper animations, and so forth. It doesn’t take that long, and it helps me vet an idea. But it can throw people off: it can cause people to perceive the project as closer to finished, needing critique for convergence. If I’m in the divergence stage, looking to expand the thinking, this kind of critique isn’t terribly helpful

Of course, sketches also help me think. I used to sketch all the time, but at some point, I became fast enough in design and development tools that I no longer pulled out the sketchbook as an instinctive response to having an idea; instead, I’d open Sketch, Xcode, et al. after thinking and note taking.
Getting back into sketching has helped me develop my thinking in areas where I’d previously been stuck.

Some seem to hold an implicit belief that software projects are pointless if they aren’t aimed for mass appeal and adoption.

But with the search for transformational insights, many of my software projects — most, probably — are designed to first find those insights in my own life or work. (situated software)

In a big way, I view all work as provocations. No ideas or perspectives are “wrong” or “right”; they are all little seeds for further thought. (tools for thought)

There’s this passage in Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman!, in which Feynman is observing his art teacher’s process, late into his career in science:
I noticed that the teacher didn’t tell people much (the only thing he told me was my picture was too small on the page). Instead, he tried to inspire us to experiment with new approaches. I thought of how we teach physics: We have so many techniques—so many mathematical methods—that we never stop telling the students how to do things. On the other hand, the drawing teacher is afraid to tell you anything. If your lines are very heavy, the teacher can’t say, “Your lines are too heavy,” because some artist has figured out a way of making great pictures using heavy lines

*I like working with perspectives. Slightly different framings have a way of showing the full three dimensional shape of an odd and novel idea.

On the other hand, working with no existing perspectives is an invaluable part of the process. If there are tracks already heading down the hill, we’re mostly going to pay attention to those*

As a principle of process, I like to pursue new knowledge the same way, whether it’s new to me or to the world

This process will also often contribute new perspectives on existing ideas which might help give their shape enough definition for someone to act on them in an important, new way. New frames, new perspectives, or new mental shapes on or of existing material can often be the unlock we need to get into some body of work the right way.

I was recently at a songwriter festival in Wyoming, which featured lots of delightful tunes and a handful of illuminating interviews. There’s been a song written about everything, so when a songwriter finds something they want to write a song about — be it love, loss, or an interesting situation — they’re constantly on the search for a new frame on it

Balancing input and quiet is necessary to keep other voices and inputs from influencing my work too much.

But more than that, the regular, long drives pull my head back into the higher-level and drop the clock speed a bit. Without this windshield time, I’ll have a habit of going too deep on any present project or curiosity, losing its higher call. Leaving some present line of thinking on foreground for too long seems to corrupt it. Moving things frequently from foreground to background thinking invites the subconscious to the worktable

In many extensive (and generous) conversations about process, Henrik Karlsson, a great friend and a great writer, has likened the approach I’ve shared in this essay of “diverge and diverge again” to that of the mathematician Alexander Grothendieck, whom Henrik has studied quite deeply and written about in his essays . He described it as attempts to “see more”