The Creating Brain: The Neuroscience of Genius

  • Nancy C. Andreasen
Dana Press: 2005. 225 pp. $23.95 1932594078 | ISBN: 1-932-59407-8

Ever since the first bright spark discovered how to make fire, the recipe for genius has been one of culture's most alluring quests. Yet historically, our conception of genius has been mysterious. The very idea that it could be explained seems to run counter to its essence. From antiquity until the Enlightenment and beyond, genius was seen as an innate trait bestowed by the gods. But as the gods lost their power, it has fallen to others to do the explaining. Even modern science has been reluctant to take up the challenge, as the apparent unpredictability of creative genius seems to elude any singular systemic explanation.

Credit: ILLUSTRATION BY CHRISTIAN DARKIN

Part of the problem for science has been attempting to distil a working definition of genius that removes its more subjective and untestable historical and cultural associations, while still retaining our idea of it. This is far from easy. One tenet is that a genius must be recognized as such by the relevant experts in the field — but by that reckoning, if Einstein hadn't published his theories, he would have been barred from the title. Despite the many difficulties with investigating genius (hence the mixed results), science has tried to break it down it into components such as intelligence, structure and function of the brain, madness, level of disinhibition, even genetic inheritance.

Because of the somewhat elusive definition of creativity, Nancy Andreasen opts for a case-study approach in her book The Creating Brain. Andreasen is an MD with a PhD in Renaissance English literature, which formed the basis for her first book, John Donne (Princeton University Press, 1967). From Mozart to August Kekulé, and Henri Poincaré to Samuel Taylor Coleridge, she unravels the insights, accounts and descriptions of their moments of revelation. After dissecting their multifarious personality traits, she attributes their extraordinary creativity in part to “brains that are more facile at creating free associations”, and to contributions from the “unconscious mind”. Her accounts suggest that unconscious processes are at work, but as the US writer Gertrude Stein warned us, they cannot be summoned at will: “It takes a lot of time to be a genius, you have to sit around so much doing nothing, really doing nothing.” Perhaps that's some comfort for us mere mortals.

No account of creativity would be complete without a departure into the notion that genius and mental illness are inextricably linked. There is a pervasive belief that creativity and bipolar disorder, in particular, have a strong connection — perhaps we like to think that in order to be creative one must, at the very least, have a touch of madness. Andreasen recounts her own experience investigating individuals from the Iowa Writers' Workshop, who to her surprise had an increased incidence of depression, either bipolar or unipolar, suggesting a “relationship between artistic creativity and mood disorders”. It is interesting to speculate whether this relationship is causal, is specific to certain subpopulations of mental illness, or whether the arts provide a suitable home for those with a particular illness. Whatever the reason, the link is compelling, and it is easy to produce a list of names that provide anecdotal support. But why do so few of those who are debilitated by bipolar disorder receive the benefits of this extraordinary artistic creativity?

It is well recognized that brain development occurs on a hectic timetable, given that several trillion synaptic connections must be laid down for the brain to function at average levels. During early pregnancy, 250,000 brain cells are created every minute, and this continues at a ferocious rate during infancy, when connections form that allow you to crawl, walk and then talk. There is then a process of constant organization and reorganization that continues until early adult life and beyond. This process, known as brain plasticity, is the basis for Andreasen's self-help guide to improved creativity. She advises us to perform mental exercises, explore unfamiliar fields of endeavour, meditate or “just think”, practise observing, describing and imagining. And kids must turn off the TV, read, explore the natural world and listen to classical music. Despite what might seem like reasonable offerings, this section, and maybe others too, could perhaps have been complemented by a reference list to allow some assessment of the arguments and suggestions presented.

Andreasen writes with clarity and ease, interspersing personal and scientific opinion. She makes wonderful connections between the arts and sciences, which surely spring from her background in literature. And she provides a succinct overview of diverse fields of investigation, as well as providing a perspective that reaches beyond the usual approaches to understanding the relationship between creativity and the brain.