All I can say in my defense is — I was triggered.

In the misery of Covid-19 lockdowns, I came across a video on Instagram of a business coach helping her multi-passionate client choose a niche…

My trigger?

The horrible advice the coach gave her client.

It’s the same advice multi-passionate people like me receive from well-meaning people like her all the time. That advice tells us to focus on one of our talents or passions for a while… then do other things we’re good at later. At first glance, “choose one thing to be your thing” seems like sound advice—especially in a business context. It does make it easier to:

• Focus your marketing efforts on one problem you can solve for people who need your help

• Find the correct words for your marketing campaigns

• Connect with the right audience

But it’s the worst.

The Myth of One Thing

As a polymath myself, with expertise in art, technology, and filmmaking, I’ve heard it all. Not just choose one thing now, you can do other things later, but also:

• Pick a horse and ride it.

• Jack of all trades, master of none.

• What are you up to now? (with the side-eye roll—not meant as a compliment, by the way)

• Why can’t you pick one thing to be your thing, like a normal person? (I am normal. Do you mean average?)

• …and my personal favorite: Do you have an off switch? (No. No, I don’t.)

I don’t know why this time was any different from any other time I’ve heard this, but I’d had enough. It was the final straw. My cup ran over. I had to say something about it. And in my case, I do it through art.

The Misconceptions of the Well-Meaning People

Before I share my painting with you—and the discovery I made while creating it—let me explain why this advice is terrible for us. There are several beliefs, misconceptions, and misunderstandings at play.

First, in our society, we overvalue specialization. We have a collective need to put every single one of us into a box. We condition ourselves—and our children—from a very early age to specialize. And we pay specialists more. So, there is that.

Second, we confuse multitasking with being multi-talented. The common belief is that if you try to do too many things, you’ll be mediocre. But if you specialize and do just one thing, you’ll be exceptional.

This is not true for truly multi-talented individuals. We can be outstanding in more than one field at once—by definition. The direction to choose one specialty, and the question of which one to choose, assumes that we somehow keep our talents, passions, and expertise separate—and can turn each on and off at will. I hate to disappoint you, but that’s not how it works. At least not for people like us.

As a polymath, I don’t react to something by switching the proverbial hats of artist, technologist, and storyteller sequentially, keeping my thoughts neatly separated in little buckets. I experience the world as an artist/technologist/storyteller simultaneously—because I am all of those things at once. It’s like being in a quantum superposition. Or like living inside a Cubist painting, observing multiple viewpoints simultaneously.

The “pick one thing to be your thing” approach imposes linear thinking on a non-linear thinker. It’s simply not compatible. We work on integrated circuits. All these talents, interests, and areas of expertise exist in an integrated circuit. And if you try to pluck one component out, you break it. The more you try, the more damage you do.

That’s the moment I wanted to capture in my painting.

The Multipotentialite, 2020. Daeu Angert. Oil on canvas. 60″ x 48″ inches (151.2cm x 120.96cm)

The moment of truth for The Multipotentialite — when she realizes she’s in a no-win situation. I say her because the figure in the painting is female. Me. On one hand, if she continues down the path of selecting one talent to focus on, she risks remaining broken—because she’s trying to extract a single component from an integrated circuit. At that moment, the way she sees herself is like looking into a broken mirror. She sees fragments of herself reflected in shards of glass. The pieces don’t quite connect. There’s a hard fracture—space between the fragments—and no matter how small, the pieces will never touch. If she continues on this path, she remains broken. On the other hand, she can abandon the search for the one thing and instead focus on integrating herself into a unique expression to present to the world—which runs the risk of not fitting in anywhere.

So she’s stuck in a no-win situation.

A Kobayashi Maru.

And for the life of her, she cannot figure it out. What you see in the painting is her frozen in that moment—sitting there, overwhelmed with emotion. There are many blues and many different colors symbolizing turbulence and inner chaos. She is nude, representing vulnerability. She’s hunched over, looking down, her forehead resting on her forearm. She’s depressed and frustrated because, as smart and talented as she is, she cannot figure out which way to go. In the painting, you can see shards of mirror reflecting pieces of her. You see the yellow of her elbow echoed in multiple places. You see her legs repeating. You see shards of glass piercing her back—symbolizing pain she doesn’t yet understand. It’s behind her back.

Where does she go from here?

The question the painting poses is: “Where does she go from here?” Even when we finally choose one thing, we still feel incomplete. That incompleteness pushes us toward the next thing—because we know the first choice wasn’t right. And off we go again. Spiraling into another no-win situation we are uniquely unqualified to rescue ourselves from.

From the outside, people see someone who is flaky. Someone who changes their mind constantly. Someone unfocused, distracted, unable to stay on task. This conversation always begins in a business context—marketing, branding, positioning—and everyone latches onto the word focus. But this has nothing to do with focus. It has everything to do with integration.

How do we integrate all the beautiful talents we possess in a way the world can understand?

This isn’t a focus problem.
It’s an integration problem.

Entirely different questions—separated by time and space.

The sad part is that the people giving this advice do so with the best intentions—and are utterly unaware of the consequences. And we follow it with the best intentions—utterly ignorant of the consequences.

But we are not broken.
We are not unfocused.
We are not lazy.

We simply have a different—but equally valid—way of experiencing the world. Since we don’t live in a vacuum, the better question is this: How do we stay whole while sharing our gifts in a way that can be appreciated and valued by the world we live in? And how do we actually do that?

While creating The Multipotentialite, I had the opportunity to reflect on—and meditate on—my own experience of crawling out of the abyss. When the painting was finished, I couldn’t leave her there. I couldn’t leave The Multipotentialite stuck in a no-win situation. In my imagination, I wanted to grab her hand, put my arm around her, and show her the way. I wanted to offer her a different path—one that uses her strengths to her advantage and doesn’t try to break her.

So, in true polymath fashion, I wrote The Multipotentialite Guide—a simple guide for multi-passionate entrepreneurs to integrate all their skills, talents, and passions without compromising or abandoning any of them.

As I was making the painting, I distilled what I had done for myself. That process helped me identify my niche as a polymath and codify a new approach that allows me to:

• Embrace and use a multitude of talents uniquely and expansively

• Integrate abilities, interests, and expertise so they work in concert

• Feel whole—and remain open to possibility without overwhelm

I love how this emerged as part of the creative process. A random Instagram video inspired a painting. That painting inspired a guide. And that guide inspired an entirely new way to solve one of the most common problems we face: Picking a niche as a multi-passionate entrepreneur.

Creativity never stops.