Think About, Page 2 Category

The American John Cage (1912-1992) was a composer who is probably known for just one work: 4’33”. It is an experimental piece that can be performed by any instrument and, even better, by any person.

The score instructs the performer to NOT play their instrument for exactly four minutes and thirty-three seconds, because the “music,” in this case, consists of the ambient sounds that the audience hears during the performance.

In short, a very simple little piece of music.

But, no matter how much this might seem like pure nonsense (I, for instance, wouldn’t pay to attend such a concert, since I could play it for free on the piano here at home), there is an interesting question to analyze not by what it is, but by what is around it.

Imagine a piece of paper with nothing written or drawn on it. Just a blank space.

This empty area actually has the same importance as the written or drawn elements on it. It is this separation of background and elements, as well as sound and silence, that explains the dependence our perception has on the surrounding environment.

Take, for example, the classic image of the two heads facing each other.

Or am I seeing a white vase? In any case, both options are valid. Figure and background have the same importance.

Similarly, we can say that size and brightness are also relative. Look at the figure below and say without thinking: are the shades of gray in the central square of these two figures the same?

They are. The simultaneous contrast of the surrounding squares is what ends up deceiving our eyes.

And what about the diameter of the central dots in the two illustrations—are they the same?

Yes, they are. The small and large dots around them, when seen side by side, create this perception.

So, now that we know that there is no such thing as “nothing” and that even the illusory emptiness of a blank page has its function in design, I had an idea: I’m going to write a book with only blank pages.

Preferably one where the reader can read for exactly four minutes and thirty-three seconds.

A bicycle handlebar is not a work of art. Neither does the saddle on which the cyclist sits to pedal. But when Pablo Picasso put these two pieces together, he saw a bull’s head in them. And he created an artistic sculpture.

Something by chance? Perhaps yes. But how often do we do things at random and not realize what’s behind them?

Maybe you are familiar with the case of Art Fry, then a scientist at 3M, the multinational giant that, among a variety of products, is the world leader in high-adhesion adhesives.

Fry and I have something in common: we share the same pleasure of singing in a choir. And when you have a large repertoire of songs, it ends up being common to mark the scores with a piece of paper.

One day, accidentally dropping his sheets with the songs, Fry had his eureka moment: he remembered that a colleague had developed a pressure-sensitive substance, but with poor adhesion. From there, the idea of a bookmark began to germinate.

The scientist’s flash ended up becoming the most famous yellow pad in the world: the Post-it.

Creativity, in short, is something that applies to you too, regardless of your professional field. She is not a gift. It is not exclusive to artists and designers.

It’s just another activity you exercise.

But I confess that I still haven’t found a creative way to sing without being out of tune.

Bill Gates says he reads about 50 books a year, most of which are non-fiction, and help him explain in some way how the world works.

Elon “Trump” Musk, when asked how he learned to build rockets, was synthetic: I read books!

According to Tom Corley, analyzing the role that reading plays in personal success, the rich ones read to educate themselves and self-improvement. The poor ones read mainly to entertain themselves.

But, going back to Bill and Elon, I ask: what do guys like them, multibillionaire tech exponents, have in common?

The fact is that they still rely on one of the oldest instruments of information: printed books. Jeff Bezos, the founder of Amazon, when he launched the Kindle was right when he said that “the book is so highly evolved and so suited to its task that it is very difficult to replace it”.

After all, reading books is a sensorial experience: we like to touch and feel the texture of the paper. I sometimes went further and even sniffed the leaves. Nowadays I don’t get to that much, but I still keep the addiction to reading.

Becoming a billionaire is just a matter of time.

The day you get a customer is the day you start losing them.

If you, like me, followed Mad Men, which was aired some years ago by HBO (and is currently available on Netflix), you must remember this great phrase by Roger Sterling, one of the partners in the series’ advertising agency.

It’s the truth. As soon as you are lucky enough to gain a business partner, the stage begins in which you build a strategy to offer them your best service or product.

But all it takes is getting a little stagnant in the approach and turning the communication on autopilot for him to realize that you are no longer committed to his success as he imagined.

And then begins the moment when he goes to get the food from the neighbor’s bowl.

Because a customer is interested like a cat, not faithful like a dog.