IF YOU ASKED a hundred people in the street what it takes to do good creative work, most people would say things like talent, imagination, skills, knowledge, freedom, confidence, resources. Some people might even say luck or good fortune.
But I bet none of them would mention constraints. Constraints aren’t talked about that much, not even in creative circles, which is understandable, since thinking about something as liberating as creativity through something as limiting as constraints isn’t exactly very exciting.
I’ve been making creative work in one form or another for about 14 years now. And it’s only very recently that I’ve come to the realisation that it’s not so much talent or imagination that’s going to get me where I want to go, as much as figuring out how to set up just the right constraints around my projects.
One recent example: two friends asked me a question—”how do you choose where to go when you travel?”—and this led to a piece I wrote quickly that felt like a breeze. Being asked a specific question, having a point of view, knowing their experiences were on the line, needing to respond quickly: all of these factors came together to constrain me in a way that made the work feel easy. Almost inevitable.
So, recently I began looking into constraints in more depth. There are two prominent academics who write about constraints specifically as they pertain to creative work. One is designer Jon Kolko who offers his ‘4 Constraints of Creativity’ (Context, Cultural, Client, & Creator). Then there’s psychology professor Patricia Stokes who has her own 4-piece framework (Domain, Cognitive, Social, & Motivational). I chose to dig into Stokes’ ideas because she’s a fellow art school graduate and I had a feeling this would help inform her understanding of creative practice in ways relevant to my own perspective.
Stokes studies the role of constraints in many disciplines—music, art, literature, architecture, and fashion—and she makes a pretty robust case that constraints aren’t just nice to haves; they’re crucial to doing any creative work well. They provide direction, focus, and structures for problem solving. Stokes shows that beyond making “quality work,” constraints are the key ingredient in making work that is truly transformative. The kind of work that reshapes culture and goes on to influence millions of people.
My favourite example is Claude Monet, the guy who’s credited with inventing Impressionism. Monet didn’t just arrive at his water lilies or his bridges by chance; he was a serious practitioner who cut his teeth studying classical painting techniques. After learning the ropes, he wanted to innovate, so he decided to try something different, “I am not satisfied with how others have painted sunlight or moonlight, and I wish to devise a new way of representing how light reflects off water.”
With this as his goal1, Monet then imposed some intriguing constraints on himself. Some were what Stokes calls precluding constraints, limiting what he could do, “I will not put two colours beside each other that are too sharply contrasted.” He did this to avoid the illusion of depth that he saw as typical of worn out ways of painting. In addition to precluding constraints, he also created some promoting constraints to further distance himself from the traditionalists: “I will paint only soft edges around shapes.”
It’s hard for us now to appreciate what an innovation Impressionism was. Today it’s just part of the furniture. And in our digital age we’re even less impressed with analogue forms of depiction. But in the 1860s when Monet was active, photography was still in its infancy and painting was the dominant way that people made meaning from the visible world. Impressionism was nothing short of an aesthetic revolution, and it still packs out museums around the world today. Yet how many of those devoted fans who relish his masterpieces stop to think about the role of constraints?
Mastering constraints was not just a Monet thing. Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque, a generation later, had a similar intuition. The pair grew tired of “painting only what they could see” (that is, tired of single-perspective representation) so instead they set a goal of “painting what they know.” By that they meant painting objects as if viewed from multiple angles. Like Monet, they had a clear goal. And they imposed precluding and promoting constraints on themselves (“If representing an object, fracture and depict it from several viewpoints.” “If adding colour, limit the number of hues and range of vales.”). Constraints, it turns out, are why we have Cubism.
I shared all this with a writer friend who got really excited by the idea, describing it as “suddenly seeing the camouflaged chameleon in the tree that he’d missed all along.” That is a beautiful metaphor and I cannot put it better myself. But I must say I’m not surprised by his reaction. I think all of us are looking for accessible ways to make better quality work and to feel better doing it.
And that’s the thing. Learning about constraints is the most accessible way into doing better work, because you don’t need to be a descendent of Picasso or be rich or lucky to get good at it. I think this is the most significant reason why constraints are worth paying attention to. They paint a more inclusive and welcoming picture of creativity.
Tellingly, every person I’ve spoken to about this so far—from engineers and entrepreneurs to designers and writers—have found it not only easy, but helpful, to talk about whatever it is they’re making through the lens of constraints. What about you? How do constraints show up in your work? What goals do you have, and are you precluding or promoting anything as you work towards them?
I’m only just scratching the surface of this Kolko and Stokes stuff, and I’m still early in my writing journey too, but already an important insight is starting to emerge: I’ve been looking at an incomplete picture in my quest for creative accomplishment. I’ve been obsessing over how to have good ideas and how to write about them interestingly and authentically. All that stuff’s important, of course it is.
But if you look closely at the practitioners who find truly novel ways to express themselves and make a lasting impact, they treat constraints as a serious subject of study, knowing that if they get those right, then quality, innovation, and impact will follow. I love that! I love the idea that game-changing work is within all our reach. And that we can reach it not by trying to reach it at all, but by obstructing ourselves.
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Thank you Matt at for reading drafts of this. And double thank you Matt for taking the time to read the draft again after I accidentally gave you the wrong one 🤦♂️
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The impossible question I'm asked most often about being a digital nomad—and my best attempt to give some useful answers to it
FOR THE TWO and a half years I’ve been travelling, no question has confounded me more than the question of where to go. Overwhelming choice, fear of missing out, and unpredictable urges have often made choosing a destination feel confusing at best.
Having a clearly defined goal is a crucial ingredient to a successful constraint-driven project. Without goals, constraints become pretty fruitless.
Really glad you're writing about this concept. It intrigues me especially in the writing realm.
I'm more at ease using constraints in my visual art; limiting the colors, shapes, and patterns I use.
Thanks too for the reminder that at the time the Impressionists were considered dangerous rebels by the establishment.
…time feels like the ultimate constraint…i like this idea of painting with walls and borders…i never felt freer cartooning than when i drew a box…