In business we are told to listen to our customers. Be customer-centric. In city building we are told to listen to the community. Be community-focused. And there’s no question that these mantras exist for a reason. They are paramount.
But when should you not listen?
I watched a Chef’s Table documentary last night on Massimo Bottura (pictured above), who is the owner and operator of Osteria Francescana in Modena, Italy. Osteria Francescana is a 3 star Michelin restaurant and widely ranked as one of the best restaurants in the world.
But it wasn’t easy for Massimo at the beginning. His goal was to bring the Italian kitchen into the 21st century and so his plates are often creative takes on classic Italian dishes. His restaurant blends the old and new; food and contemporary art.
This approach upset a lot of people at the outset. Massimo was seen almost as a traitor who was turning his back on traditional Italian cooking within provincial Modena. Don’t mess with centuries of tradition they would say. Grandma knew best, son.
Because of this, his restaurant sat empty in the early years, to that point that he was ready to close its doors. The only reason he kept it open was because his wife encouraged him to give it one more year. She said: This is the kind of food you want to make. If you don’t try, you’ll regret it.
So he gave it another year and luckily he got a few breaks, including a glowing review by a well known food critic from out of town. Once this hit, the Modenese started to quickly rethink their distaste for Massimo’s idiosyncratic dishes. Before long, his restaurant was full.
So what changed? It wasn’t the dishes. It was perception. The out of town critics and positive reviews gave people permission to like the dishes. This is critical because nobody needs permission to like tradition. It’s tradition, after all. There’s little risk in that.
But there’s risk in liking something new that hasn’t been done before. Change creates uncertainty. And if Massimo’s wife hadn’t encouraged him to stick with it just a bit longer and ignore the naysayers, the world may not have one of its top restaurants.
Sometimes we don’t know what we like and want until we are shown.
Image: Osteria Francescana
“Great ideas alter the power balance in relationships. That’s why great ideas are initially resisted.” -Hugh Macleod
I have been following the work and writing of designer Tobias van Scheider for quite some time now. If you don’t subscribe to his newsletter and you end up liking this post, you should consider signing up.
Recently I stumbled upon something he published back in October called “Ignore Everybody”, where he argues that when you’re exploring something new – that could potentially fail – one of the best things you can do is ignore everybody.
And that’s because:
“We have to understand that ideas are by nature very fragile. They’re like little naked babies, unable to protect themselves. If we really believe in a new idea, we have to protect her with great effort. This is difficult, because oftentimes the greatest ideas get killed by the people around us. Executing on a great idea is by nature a lonely path. If everyone would agree with you, the idea is probably not that great anyway.”
I am incredibly interested in how new things get started and how new ideas thrive. Fostering innovation has become a critical component of city building in today’s world. But sometimes I feel as if we’re thinking too top-down, as opposed to bottom-up.
As Tobias rightly points out in his article, lots of great ideas started as stupid little projects. Who would have thought that a teen sexting app with disappearing messages (Snapchat) would become a company worth many billions of dollars?
It’s for this same reason that Sam Altman of Y Combinator recently wrote that sometimes its better to call your new company a project, rather than a business. When you call it a business you impose all kinds of biases onto it in terms of viable business models, and so on. But when you keep it a “project”, it becomes more acceptable to be experimental.
As an example of all this, I was fascinated to learn this past weekend about a Toronto-based ad agency called OneMethod. Because as part of their agency they have a division called the MethLab, where the goal is to simply experiment with “absurd ideas.”
One of those absurd ideas was a social media campaign slash pop-up taco restaurant – remember, they are an ad agency not restauranteurs. It was so grassroots that they ended up having to sell original art work that happened to come with a “free” taco in order to get around all the legal requirements for serving food. Brilliant.
The idea was so well received that it has grown into a fully fledged restaurant called La Carnita, which today operates across 3 permanent locations and happens to be one of the most popular taco restaurants in Toronto.
But let me ask you this, if they had instead gone out to investors – as an ad agency wanting to get into the taco business – would they have been able to raise the money for their first physical restaurant? I can imagine this being a lot more difficult.
On a larger scale, this is exactly what Google is doing with Alphabet. The company was reorganized and rebranded so that they could continue to work on absurd ideas outside of the Google cash cow. If the idea/project takes off, then it becomes a fully fledged company. If it doesn’t, then it gets shut down and something else is tried.
This is what people and companies are doing today to stay relevant in the innovation race.
But in some ways it feels like a battle to allow the absurd to survive. That’s why the best approach might be to just ignore everybody. There’s value in the absurd but maybe you’re the only one who sees it right now.
Want further evidence that technology and the internet are going to dramatically transform many “non-tech” industries such as real estate?
Take a look at 1351 H Street NE in Washington D.C (pictured above). It houses a hybrid retail store and restaurant and is probably the first truly crowdfunded real estate project.
The project was completed using a platform called Fundrise, which I’ve written about before here on Architect This City. Their vision is to completely democratize real estate investment by removing middlepeople and outdated regulations that restrict who and how people can invest in real estate.
To accomplish this, the founders of Fundrise went out in 2011 and bought the building located at 1351 H Street NE for $825,000. The goal was for it to act as their proof of concept.
They then spent a significant amount of time and money figuring out how to make it legal for small and local investors to participate in the project (as opposed to just accredited investors). It was ultimately done through a “local public offering” filed with the SEC.
So how does it work?
In the case of 1351 H Street NE, they first went out to the local community and asked them what they wanted to see. That’s how they ended up with a unique retail store / restaurant. It’s what the community wanted.
Once this was established, they went out and issued 3,250 shares and crowdfunded $325,000 from 175 local investors. This was for an ownership share in both the building and the future business. The average investment amount was $2,000, but people were able to invest as little as $100.
This is an incredible accomplishment. It takes real estate investment and development to a local level and really empowers small entrepreneurs to start businesses that may have been previously unfundable by traditional sources.
I don’t know what you think, but I think this is the beginning of a powerful transformation. Many of the structures that are currently in place were formed at a time when it wouldn’t have been practical to crowdsource ideas and crowdfund money. But now that is very possible. It was just done.
Image: Maketto