Creativity: through the eye of an elephant gun
My creativity comes from connecting big problems with math. I start out tackling a huge problem where I think I can get some traction. In the problem space I spend many years reading all that I can and trying to fully understand the core essential problem.
My first such effort was studying why software didn't work -- -- why it wasn't rigorously tested, why it had errors, and why it was unmaintainable. I spent over two years doing this and doing nothing else. In parallel with the problem domain I search for mathematical results that in some way is connected to the problem and would provide some traction. In the case of software I published a graph theoretic complexity measure after two such years -- -- it became a national standard.
I have spent five years studying the AIDS genome. This resulted in an AIDS characterization as a mathematical group that would explain the underlying mechanism for the production of AIDS mutations.
Recently I have spent about 18 months studying software security threats and viruses. This resulted in a algebraic reduction technique that I am in the process of publishing. I also presented this technique to a software audience in Paris on March 9.
The beginning of this process is a bit schizophrenic being emerged in parallel problem spaces and mathematical spaces. As the process continues I try to whittle down the problem space to both it's essence and something that's tractable. At the same time I consider various mathematical models that have underlying simplicity and rigor and look in some way connected. Typically there are very many connections but a breakthrough has to provide a fresh new insight and map onto something operational that solves the problem.
The underlying process is a duality between working very hard and then letting go. It's like interval training for an athlete --- run full blast, walk for a while, run full blast.... And then when I let go and all is quiet it announces itself.
It's also an emotional roller coaster -- -- when I find a mathematical connection it's euphoric -- -- when I then find it has no operational use I feel like I'm wasting my life. Very often after the biggest disappointments and the accompanying depression will be followed by a huge result, wherein I refine the focus and what I thought was an obstacle leads me to the truth.
Here's what drives me. Rather than science I feel like this is a quest for an underlying truth -- -- wherein I can characterize a big problem with mathematical rigor and get a breakthrough result. It feels like Columbus on the high seas discovering a new continent --- the truth was always there, the excitement is finding it.
My next step is to go out and tell the world --- always to the practitioners never to the academics. The practitioners know what works, the academics certify the math after the fact. The reinforcement I got lecturing about software complexity gave me the confidence and momentum to build a successful company.
In short I look for big messy expensive problems being addressed with anemic slingshots -- -- and lug in my elephant gun.
My creative spark in writing poetry is quite different -- -- I aim at the big elephant in the room. Poetry lets me address the unaddressable in a light way.
My first such effort was studying why software didn't work -- -- why it wasn't rigorously tested, why it had errors, and why it was unmaintainable. I spent over two years doing this and doing nothing else. In parallel with the problem domain I search for mathematical results that in some way is connected to the problem and would provide some traction. In the case of software I published a graph theoretic complexity measure after two such years -- -- it became a national standard.
I have spent five years studying the AIDS genome. This resulted in an AIDS characterization as a mathematical group that would explain the underlying mechanism for the production of AIDS mutations.
Recently I have spent about 18 months studying software security threats and viruses. This resulted in a algebraic reduction technique that I am in the process of publishing. I also presented this technique to a software audience in Paris on March 9.
The beginning of this process is a bit schizophrenic being emerged in parallel problem spaces and mathematical spaces. As the process continues I try to whittle down the problem space to both it's essence and something that's tractable. At the same time I consider various mathematical models that have underlying simplicity and rigor and look in some way connected. Typically there are very many connections but a breakthrough has to provide a fresh new insight and map onto something operational that solves the problem.
The underlying process is a duality between working very hard and then letting go. It's like interval training for an athlete --- run full blast, walk for a while, run full blast.... And then when I let go and all is quiet it announces itself.
It's also an emotional roller coaster -- -- when I find a mathematical connection it's euphoric -- -- when I then find it has no operational use I feel like I'm wasting my life. Very often after the biggest disappointments and the accompanying depression will be followed by a huge result, wherein I refine the focus and what I thought was an obstacle leads me to the truth.
Here's what drives me. Rather than science I feel like this is a quest for an underlying truth -- -- wherein I can characterize a big problem with mathematical rigor and get a breakthrough result. It feels like Columbus on the high seas discovering a new continent --- the truth was always there, the excitement is finding it.
My next step is to go out and tell the world --- always to the practitioners never to the academics. The practitioners know what works, the academics certify the math after the fact. The reinforcement I got lecturing about software complexity gave me the confidence and momentum to build a successful company.
In short I look for big messy expensive problems being addressed with anemic slingshots -- -- and lug in my elephant gun.
My creative spark in writing poetry is quite different -- -- I aim at the big elephant in the room. Poetry lets me address the unaddressable in a light way.
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