Case study
www.hbr.org
How Pixar Fosters Collective Creativity
by Ed Catmull
Included with this full-text Harvard Business Review article:
The Idea in Brief—the core idea
The Idea in Practice—putting the idea to work
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Article Summary
2
How Pixar Fosters Collective Creativity
A list of related materials, with annotations to guide further
exploration of the article’s ideas and applications
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Further Reading
Behind Pixar’s string of hit
movies, says the studio’s
president, is a peer-driven
process for solving problems.
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How Pixar Fosters Collective Creativity
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The Idea in Brief The Idea in Practice
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A robot falls in love in a post-apocalyptic world. A French rat sets out to become a chef. A suburban family of superheroes de- feats a power-hungry villain. Unexpected ideas, all—yet Pixar Animation Studios is turning these and other novel ideas into blockbuster films.
How? As Catmull explains, Pixar’s leaders have discovered potent practices for struc- turing and operating a creative organiza- tion. For example, they give writers, artists, and other “creatives” enormous leeway to make decisions. They make it safe for peo- ple to share unfinished work with peers, who provide candid feedback. And they conduct project post-mortems in ways that extract the most valuable lessons for miti- gating risk on subsequent projects.
The effort has paid off. Pixar’s has racked up a unique track record of success: It’s the leading pioneer in computer animation. It has never had to buy scripts or movie ideas from outside. And since 1995, it has re- leased seven films—all of which became huge hits.
Catmull suggests these principles for managing your creative organization:
Empower your creatives. Give your creative people control over ever y stage of idea development.
Example: At most studios, a specialized development department generates new movie ideas. Pixar assembles cross-company teams for this purpose. Teams comprise directors, writers, artists, and storyboard people who originate and refine ideas until they have potential to become great films. The devel- opment department’s job? Find people who’ll work effectively together. Ensure healthy social dynamics in the team. Help the team solve problems.
Create a peer culture. Encourage people throughout your company to help each other produce their best work.
Example:
At Pixar, daily animation work is shown in an incomplete state to the whole crew. This process helps people get over any em- barrassment about sharing unfinished work—so they become even more creative. It enables creative leads to communicate important points to the entire crew at once. And it’s inspiring: a highly innovative piece of animation sparks others to raise their game.
Free up communication. The most efficient way to resolve the numerous problems that arise in any complex project is to trust people to address difficulties directly, without having to get permission. So, give everyone the free- dom to communicate with anyone.
Example: Within Pixar, members of any department can approach anyone in another depart- ment to solve problems, without having to go through “proper” channels. Managers understand they don’t always have to be the first to know about something going on in their realm, and that it’s okay to walk into a meeting and be surprised.
Craft a learning environment. Reinforce the mind-set that you’re all learning—and it’s fun to learn together.
Example: “Pixar University” trains people in multiple skills as they advance in their careers. It also offers optional courses (screenplay writing, drawing, sculpting) so people from differ- ent disciplines can interact and appreciate what each other does.
Get more out of post-mortems. Many people dislike project post-mortems. They’d rather talk about what went right than what went wrong. And after investing extensive time on the project, they’d like to move on. Structure your post-mortems to stimulate discussion.
Example:
Pixar asks post-mortem participants to list the top five things they’d do again and the top five they wouldn’t do. The positive- negative balance makes it a safer environ- ment to explore every aspect of the project. Participants also bring in lots of perfor- mance data—including metrics such as how often something had to be reworked. Data further stimulate discussion and chal- lenge assumptions based on subjective impressions.
For the exclusive use of M. Mallouh
This document is authorized for use only by Mohammed Mallouh in 2014 B Summer ENTR 661.25 taught by Cox from April 2014 to October 2014.
How Pixar Fosters Collective Creativity
by Ed Catmull
harvard business review • september 2008 page 2
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Behind Pixar’s string of hit movies, says the studio’s president, is a
peer-driven process for solving problems.
A few years ago, I had lunch with the head of a major motion picture studio, who declared that his central problem was not finding good people—it was finding good ideas. Since then, when giving talks, I’ve asked audiences whether they agree with him. Almost always there’s a 50/50 split, which has astounded me because I couldn’t disagree more with the stu- dio executive. His belief is rooted in a mis- guided view of creativity that exaggerates the importance of the initial idea in creating an original product. And it reflects a profound misunderstanding of how to manage the large risks inherent in producing breakthroughs.
When it comes to producing breakthroughs, both technological and artistic, Pixar’s track record is unique. In the early 1990s, we were known as the leading technological pioneer in the field of computer animation. Our years of R&D culminated in the release of Toy Story in 1995, the world’s first computer-animated fea- ture film. In the following 13 years, we have re- leased eight other films (A Bug’s Life; Toy Story 2; Monsters, Inc.; Finding Nemo; The Incredibles;
Cars; Ratatouille; and WALL·E), which also have been blockbusters. Unlike most other studios, we have never bought scripts or movie ideas from the outside. All of our stories, worlds, and characters were created internally by our com- munity of artists. And in making these films, we have continued to push the technological boundaries of computer animation, securing dozens of patents in the process.
While I’m not foolish enough to predict that we will never have a flop, I don’t think our suc- cess is largely luck. Rather, I believe our adher- ence to a set of principles and practices for managing creative talent and risk is responsi- ble. Pixar is a community in the true sense of the word. We think that lasting relationships matter, and we share some basic beliefs: Talent is rare. Management’s job is not to prevent risk but to build the capability to recover when fail- ures occur. It must be safe to tell the truth. We must constantly challenge all of our assump- tions and search for the flaws that could de- stroy our culture. In the last two years, we’ve had a chance to test whether our principles
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How Pixar Fosters Collective Creativity
harvard business review • september 2008 page 3
and practices are transferable. After Pixar’s 2006 merger with the Walt Disney Company, its CEO, Bob Iger, asked me, chief creative officer John Lasseter, and other Pixar senior managers to help him revive Disney Anima- tion Studios. The success of our efforts prompted me to share my thinking on how to build a sustainable creative organization.
What Is Creativity?
People tend to think of creativity as a myste- rious solo act, and they typically reduce prod- ucts to a single idea: This is a movie about toys, or dinosaurs, or love, they’ll say. How- ever, in filmmaking and many other kinds of complex product development, creativity in- volves a large number of people from different disciplines working effectively together to solve a great many problems. The initial idea for the movie—what people in the movie busi- ness call “the high concept”—is merely one step in a long, arduous process that takes four to five years.
A movie contains literally tens of thousands of ideas. They’re in the form of every sen- tence; in the performance of each line; in the design of characters, sets, and backgrounds; in the locations of the camera; in the colors, the lighting, the pacing. The director and the other creative leaders of a production do not come up with all the ideas on their own; rather, every single member of the 200- to 250-person production group makes sugges- tions. Creativity must be present at every level of every artistic and technical part of the organization. The leaders sort through a mass of ideas to find the ones that fit into a coher- ent whole—that support the story—which is a very difficult task. It’s like an archaeological dig where you don’t know what you’re look- ing for or whether you will even find any- thing. The process is downright scary.
Then again, if we aren’t always at least a lit- tle scared, we’re not doing our job. We’re in a business whose customers want to see some- thing new every time they go to the theater. This means we have to put ourselves at great risk. Our most recent film, WALL·E, is a robot love story set in a post-apocalyptic world full of trash. And our previous movie, Ratatouille, is about a French rat who aspires to be a chef. Talk about unexpected ideas! At the outset of making these movies, we simply didn’t know if they would work. However, since we’re sup-
posed to offer something that isn’t obvious, we bought into somebody’s initial vision and took a chance.
To act in this fashion, we as executives have to resist our natural tendency to avoid or min- imize risks, which, of course, is much easier said than done. In the movie business and plenty of others, this instinct leads executives to choose to copy successes rather than try to create something brand-new. That’s why you see so many movies that are so much alike. It also explains why a lot of films aren’t very good. If you want to be original, you have to accept the uncertainty, even when it’s uncom- fortable, and have the capability to recover when your organization takes a big risk and fails. What’s the key to being able to recover? Talented people! Contrary to what the studio head asserted at lunch that day, such people are not so easy to find.
What’s equally tough, of course, is getting talented people to work effectively with one another. That takes trust and respect, which we as managers can’t mandate; they must be earned over time. What we can do is construct an environment that nurtures trusting and re- spectful relationships and unleashes every- one’s creativity. If we get that right, the result is a vibrant community where talented people are loyal to one another and their collective work, everyone feels that they are part of something extraordinary, and their passion and accomplishments make the community a magnet for talented people coming out of schools or working at other places. I know what I’m describing is the antithesis of the free-agency practices that prevail in the movie industry, but that’s the point: I believe that community matters.
The Roots of Our Culture
My conviction that smart people are more important than good ideas probably isn’t sur- prising. I’ve had the good fortune to work alongside amazing people in places that pio- neered computer graphics.
At the University of Utah, my fellow gradu- ate students included Jim Clark, who co- founded Silicon Graphics and Netscape; John Warnock, who cofounded Adobe; and Alan Kay, who developed object-oriented program- ming. We had ample funding (thanks to the U.S. Defense Department’s Advanced Re- search Projects Agency), the professors gave
Ed Catmull
is a cofounder of Pixar and the president of Pixar and Disney Animation Studios.
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How Pixar Fosters Collective Creativity
harvard business review • september 2008 page 4
us free rein, and there was an exhilarating and creative exchange of ideas.
At the New York Institute of Technology, where I headed a new computer-animation laboratory, one of my first hires was Alvy Ray Smith, who made breakthroughs in computer painting. That made me realize that it’s OK to hire people who are smarter than you are.
Then George Lucas, of Star Wars fame, hired me to head a major initiative at Lucasfilm to bring computer graphics and other digital technology into films and, later, games. It was thrilling to do research within a film company that was pushing the boundaries. George didn’t try to lock up the technology for himself and allowed us to continue to publish and maintain strong academic contacts. This made it possible to attract some of the best people in the industry, including John Lasseter, then an animator from Disney, who was excited by the
new possibilities of computer animation. Last but not least, there’s Pixar, which
began its life as an independent company in 1986, when Steve Jobs bought the computer division from Lucasfilm, allowing us to pursue our dream of producing computer-animated movies. Steve gave backbone to our desire for excellence and helped us form a remarkable management team. I’d like to think that Pixar captures what’s best about all the places I’ve worked. A number of us have stuck together for decades, pursuing the dream of making computer-animated films, and we still have the pleasure of working together today.
It was only when Pixar experienced a crisis during the production of Toy Story 2 that my views on how to structure and operate a cre- ative organization began to crystallize. In 1996, while we were working on A Bug’s Life, our sec- ond movie, we started to make a sequel to Toy Story. We had enough technical leaders to start a second production, but all of our proven cre- ative leaders—the people who had made Toy Story, including John, who was its director; writer Andrew Stanton; editor Lee Unkrich; and the late Joe Ranft, the movie’s head of story—were working on A Bug’s Life. So we had to form a new creative team of people who had never headed a movie production. We felt this was OK. After all, John, Andrew, Lee, and Joe had never led a full-length ani- mated film production before Toy Story.
Disney, which at that time was distributing and cofinancing our films, initially encour- aged us to make Toy Story 2 as a “direct to video”—a movie that would be sold only as home videos and not shown first in theaters. This was Disney’s model for keeping alive the characters of successful films, and the expectation was that both the cost and quality would be lower. We realized early on, how- ever, that having two different standards of quality in the same studio was bad for our souls, and Disney readily agreed that the sequel should be a theatrical release. The cre- ative leadership, though, remained the same, which turned out to be a problem.
In the early stage of making a movie, we draw storyboards (a comic-book version of the story) and then edit them together with dia- logue and temporary music. These are called story reels. The first versions are very rough, but they give a sense of what the problems are, which in the beginning of all productions are
Taking Risks
Pixar’s customers expect to see something new every time. That’s downright scary. But if Pixar’s executives aren’t always a little scared, they’re not doing their jobs.
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harvard business review • september 2008 page 5
many. We then iterate, and each version typi- cally gets better and better. In the case of
Toy Story 2
, we had a good initial idea for a story, but the reels were not where they ought to have been by the time we started animation, and they were not improving. Making matters worse, the directors and producers were not pulling together to rise to the challenge.
Finally A Bug’s Life was finished, freeing up John, Andrew, Lee, and Joe to take over the creative leadership of Toy Story 2. Given where the production was at that point, 18 months would have been an aggressive schedule, but by then we had only eight left to deliver the film. Knowing that the company’s future de- pended on them, crew members worked at an incredible rate. In the end, with the new lead- ership, they pulled it off.
How did John and his team save the movie? The problem was not the original core concept, which they retained. The main character, a cowboy doll named Woody, is kidnapped by a toy collector who intends to ship him to a toy museum in Japan. At a critical point in the story, Woody has to decide whether to go to Japan or try to escape and go back to Andy, the boy who owned him. Well, since the movie is coming from Pixar and Disney, you know he’s going to end up back with Andy. And if you can easily predict what’s going to happen, you don’t have any drama. So the challenge was to get the audience to believe that Woody might make a different choice. The first team couldn’t figure out how to do it.
John, Andrew, Lee, and Joe solved that problem by adding several elements to show the fears toys might have that people could relate to. One is a scene they created called “Jessie’s story.” Jessie is a cowgirl doll who is going to be shipped to Japan with Woody. She wants to go, and she explains why to Woody. The audience hears her story in the emo- tional song “When She Loved Me”: She had been the darling of a little girl, but the girl grew up and discarded her. The reality is kids do grow up, life does change, and sometimes you have to move on. Since the audience members know the truth of this, they can see that Woody has a real choice, and this is what grabs them. It took our “A” team to add the el- ements that made the story work.
Toy Story 2 was great and became a critical and commercial success—and it was the defin- ing moment for Pixar. It taught us an impor-
tant lesson about the primacy of people over ideas: If you give a good idea to a mediocre team, they will screw it up; if you give a medio- cre idea to a great team, they will either fix it or throw it away and come up with something that works.
Toy Story 2 also taught us another impor- tant lesson: There has to be one quality bar for every film we produce. Everyone working at the studio at the time made tremendous personal sacrifices to fix Toy Story 2. We shut down all the other productions. We asked our crew to work inhumane hours, and lots of people suffered repetitive stress injuries. But by rejecting mediocrity at great pain and per- sonal sacrifice, we made a loud statement as a community that it was unacceptable to produce some good films and some mediocre films. As a result of Toy Story 2, it became deeply in- grained in our culture that everything we touch needs to be excellent. This goes beyond movies to the DVD production and extras, and to the toys and other consumer products associated with our characters.
Of course, most executives would at least pay lip service to the notion that they need to get good people and should set their standards high. But how many understand the impor- tance of creating an environment that sup- ports great people and encourages them to support one another so the whole is far greater than the sum of the parts? That’s what we are striving to do. Let me share what we’ve learned so far about what works.
Power to the Creatives
Creative power in a film has to reside with the film’s creative leadership. As obvious as this might seem, it’s not true of many companies in the movie industry and, I suspect, a lot of others. We believe the creative vision propel- ling each movie comes from one or two people and not from either corporate executives or a development department. Our philosophy is: You get great creative people, you bet big on them, you give them enormous leeway and support, and you provide them with an envi- ronment in which they can get honest feed- back from everyone.
After Toy Story 2 we changed the mission of our development department. Instead of coming up with new ideas for movies (its role at most studios), the department’s job is to assemble small incubation teams to help
If you give a good idea to
a mediocre team, they’ll
screw it up. But if you
give a mediocre idea to a
great team, they’ll make
it work.
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How Pixar Fosters Collective Creativity
harvard business review • september 2008 page 6
directors refine their own ideas to a point where they can convince John and our other senior filmmakers that those ideas have the potential to be great films. Each team typically consists of a director, a writer, some artists, and some storyboard people. The develop- ment department’s goal is to find individuals who will work effectively together. During this incubation stage, you can’t judge teams by the material they’re producing because it’s so rough—there are many problems and open questions. But you can assess whether the teams’ social dynamics are healthy and whether the teams are solving problems and making progress. Both the senior manage- ment and the development department are responsible for seeing to it that the teams function well.
To emphasize that the creative vision is what matters most, we say we are “filmmaker led.” There are really two leaders: the director and the producer. They form a strong partnership. They not only strive to make a great movie but also operate within time, budget, and people constraints. (Good artists understand the value of limits.) During production, we leave the op- erating decisions to the film’s leaders, and we don’t second-guess or micromanage them.
Indeed, even when a production runs into a problem, we do everything possible to pro- vide support without undermining their authority. One way we do this is by making it possible for a director to solicit help from our “creative brain trust” of filmmakers. (This group is a pillar of our distinctive peer-based process for making movies—an important topic I’ll return to in a moment.) If this advice doesn’t suffice, we’ll sometimes add rein- forcements to the production—such as a writer or codirector—to provide specific skills or improve the creative dynamics of the film’s creative leadership.
What does it take for a director to be a suc- cessful leader in this environment? Of course, our directors have to be masters at knowing how to tell a story that will translate into the medium of film. This means that they must have a unifying vision—one that will give coherence to the thousands of ideas that go into a movie—and they must be able to turn that vision into clear directives that the staff can implement. They must set people up for success by giving them all the information they need to do the job right without telling
them how to do it. Each person on a film should be given creative ownership of even the smallest task.
Good directors not only possess strong ana- lytical skills themselves but also can harness the analytical power and life experiences of their staff members. They are superb listeners and strive to understand the thinking behind every suggestion. They appreciate all contribu- tions, regardless of where or from whom they originate, and use the best ones.
A Peer Culture
Of great importance—and something that sets us apart from other studios—is the way peo- ple at all levels support one another. Everyone is fully invested in helping everyone else turn out the best work. They really do feel that it’s all for one and one for all. Nothing exemplifies this more than our creative brain trust and our daily review process.
The brain trust. This group consists of John and our eight directors (Andrew Stanton, Brad Bird, Pete Docter, Bob Peterson, Brenda Chap- man, Lee Unkrich, Gary Rydstrom, and Brad Lewis). When a director and producer feel in need of assistance, they convene the group (and anyone else they think would be valu- able) and show the current version of the work in progress. This is followed by a lively two-hour give-and-take discussion, which is all about making the movie better. There’s no ego. Nobody pulls any punches to be polite. This works because all the participants have come to trust and respect one another. They know it’s far better to learn about problems from colleagues when there’s still time to fix them than from the audience after it’s too late. The problem-solving powers of this group are immense and inspirational to watch.
After a session, it’s up to the director of the movie and his or her team to decide what to do with the advice; there are no mandatory notes, and the brain trust has no authority. This dynamic is crucial. It liberates the trust members, so they can give their unvarnished expert opinions, and it liberates the director to seek help and fully consider the advice. It took us a while to learn this. When we tried to export the brain trust model to our technical area, we found at first that it didn’t work. Eventually, I realized why: We had given these other review groups some authority. As soon as we said, “This is purely peers
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How Pixar Fosters Collective Creativity
harvard business review • september 2008 page 7
giving feedback to each other,” the dynamic changed, and the effectiveness of the review sessions dramatically improved.
The origin of the creative brain trust was Toy Story. During a crisis that occurred while making that film, a special relationship devel- oped among John, Andrew, Lee, and Joe, who had remarkable and complementary skills. Since they trusted one another, they could have very intense and heated discussions; they always knew that the passion was about the story and wasn’t personal. Over time, as other people from inside and outside joined our directors’ ranks, the brain trust expanded to what it is today: a community of master filmmakers who come together when needed to help each other.
The dailies. This practice of working to- gether as peers is core to our culture, and it’s not limited to our directors and producers.
One example is our daily reviews, or “dailies,” a process for giving and getting constant feed- back in a positive way that’s based on practices John observed at Disney and Industrial Light & Magic (ILM), Lucasfilm’s special-effects company.
At Disney, only a small senior group would look at daily animation work. Dennis Muren, ILM’s legendary visual-effects supervisor, broadened the participation to include his whole special-effects crew. (John, who joined my computer group at Lucasfilm after leaving Disney, participated in these sessions while we were creating computer-animated effects for Young Sherlock Holmes.)
As we built up an animation crew for Toy Story in the early 1990s, John used what he had learned from Disney and ILM to develop our daily review process. People show work in an incomplete state to the whole animation
Getting Real Help
Pixar’s brain trust of directors offers advice on works in progress. But the production’s leaders decide what to use and what to ignore.
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harvard business review • september 2008 page 8
crew, and although the director makes deci- sions, everyone is encouraged to comment.
There are several benefits. First, once people get over the embarrassment of showing work still in progress, they become more creative. Second, the director or creative leads guiding the review process can communicate impor- tant points to the entire crew at the same time. Third, people learn from and inspire each other; a highly creative piece of animation will spark others to raise their game. Finally, there are no surprises at the end: When you’re done, you’re done. People’s overwhelming desire to make sure their work is “good” before they show it to others increases the possibility that their finished version won’t be what the director wants. The dailies process avoids such wasted efforts.
Technology + Art = Magic
Getting people in different disciplines to treat one another as peers is just as important as getting people within disciplines to do so. But it’s much harder. Barriers include the natural class structures that arise in organizations: There always seems to be one function that considers itself and is perceived by others to be the one the organization values the most. Then there’s the different languages spoken by different disciplines and even the physical distance between offices. In a creative business like ours, these barriers are impediments to
producing great work, and therefore we must do everything we can to tear them down.
Walt Disney understood this. He believed that when continual change, or reinvention, is the norm in an organization and technology and art are together, magical things happen. A lot of people look back at Disney’s early days and say, “Look at the artists!” They don’t pay attention to his technological innovations. But he did the first sound in animation, the first color, the first compositing of animation with live action, and the first applications of xerog- raphy in animation production. He was always excited by science and technology.
At Pixar, we believe in this swirling interplay between art and technology and constantly try to use better technology at every stage of production. John coined a saying that captures this dynamic: “Technology inspires art, and art challenges the technology.” To us, those aren’t just words; they are a way of life that had to be established and still has to be constantly reinforced. Although we are a director- and producer-led meritocracy, which recognizes that talent is not spread equally among all people, we adhere to the following principles:
Everyone must have the freedom to com- municate with anyone. This means recogniz- ing that the decision-making hierarchy and communication structure in organizations are two different things. Members of any de- partment should be able to approach anyone in another department to solve problems without having to go through “proper” chan- nels. It also means that managers need to learn that they don’t always have to be the first to know about something going on in their realm, and it’s OK to walk into a meeting and be surprised. The impulse to tightly control the process is understandable given the com- plex nature of moviemaking, but problems are almost by definition unforeseen. The most ef- ficient way to deal with numerous problems is to trust people to work out the difficulties di- rectly with each other without having to check for permission.
It must be safe for everyone to offer ideas. We’re constantly showing works in progress internally. We try to stagger who goes to which viewing to ensure that there are always fresh eyes, and everyone in the company, re- gardless of discipline or position, gets to go at some point. We make a concerted effort to
Overcoming Inhibitions
Showing unfinished work each day liberates people to take risks and try new things because it doesn’t have to be perfect the first time.
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harvard business review • september 2008 page 9
make it safe to criticize by inviting everyone attending these showings to e-mail notes to the creative leaders that detail what they liked and didn’t like and explain why.
We must stay close to innovations happen- ing in the academic community. We strongly encourage our technical artists to publish their research and participate in industry con- ferences. Publishing may give away ideas, but it keeps us connected with the academic com- munity. This connection is worth far more than any ideas we may have revealed: It helps us attract exceptional talent and reinforces the belief throughout the company that people are more important than ideas.
We try to break down the walls between dis- ciplines in other ways, as well. One is a collec- tion of in-house courses we offer, which we call Pixar University. It is responsible for training and cross-training people as they develop in their careers. But it also offers an array of op- tional classes—many of which I’ve taken—that give people from different disciplines the op- portunity to mix and appreciate what every- one does. Some (screenplay writing, drawing, and sculpting) are directly related to our busi- ness; some (Pilates and yoga) are not. In a sculpting class will be rank novices as well as world-class sculptors who want to refine their skills. Pixar University helps reinforce the mind-set that we’re all learning and it’s fun to learn together.
Our building, which is Steve Jobs’s brain- child, is another way we try to get people from different departments to interact. Most build- ings are designed for some functional purpose, but ours is structured to maximize inadvertent encounters. At its center is a large atrium, which contains the cafeteria, meeting rooms, bathrooms, and mailboxes. As a result, every- one has strong reasons to go there repeatedly during the course of the workday. It’s hard to describe just how valuable the resulting chance encounters are.
Staying on the Rails
Observing the rise and fall of computer compa- nies during my career has affected me deeply. Many companies put together a phenomenal group of people who produced great products. They had the best engineers, exposure to the needs of customers, access to changing technol- ogy, and experienced management. Yet many made decisions at the height of their powers
that were stunningly wrongheaded, and they faded into irrelevance. How could really smart people completely miss something so crucial to their survival? I remember asking myself more than once: “If we are ever successful, will we be equally blind?”
Many of the people I knew in those companies that failed were not very introspective. When Pixar became an independent company, I vowed we would be different. I realized that it’s extremely difficult for an organization to analyze itself. It is uncomfortable and hard to be objective. Systematically fighting compla- cency and uncovering problems when your company is successful have got to be two of the toughest management challenges there are. Clear values, constant communication, routine postmortems, and the regular injec- tion of outsiders who will challenge the status quo aren’t enough. Strong leadership is also essential—to make sure people don’t pay lip service to the values, tune out the communi- cations, game the processes, and automati- cally discount newcomers’ observations and suggestions. Here’s a sampling of what we do:
Postmortems. The first we performed—at the end of A Bug’s Life—was successful. But the success of those that followed varied enor- mously. This caused me to reflect on how to get more out of them. One thing I observed was that although people learn from the postmor- tems, they don’t like to do them. Leaders natu- rally want to use the occasion to give kudos to their team members. People in general would rather talk about what went right than what went wrong. And after spending years on a film, everybody just wants to move on. Left to their own devices, people will game the sys- tem to avoid confronting the unpleasant.
There are some simple techniques for over- coming these problems. One is to try to vary the way you do the postmortems. By defini- tion, they’re supposed to be about lessons learned, so if you repeat the same format, you tend to find the same lessons, which isn’t pro- ductive. Another is to ask each group to list the top five things they would do again and the top five things they wouldn’t do. The balance be- tween the positive and the negative helps make it a safer environment. In any event, em- ploy lots of data in the review. Because we’re a creative organization, people tend to assume that much of what we do can’t be measured or analyzed. That’s wrong. Most of our processes
Pixar’s Operating Principles
1.
Everyone must have the freedom to communicate with anyone.
2.
It must be safe for everyone to offer ideas.
3.
We must stay close to innova- tions happening in the academic community.
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How Pixar Fosters Collective Creativity
harvard business review • september 2008 page 10
involve activities and deliverables that can be quantified. We keep track of the rates at which things happen, how often something has to be reworked, whether a piece of work was com- pletely finished or not when it was sent to an- other department, and so on. Data can show things in a neutral way, which can stimulate discussion and challenge assumptions arising from personal impressions.
Fresh blood. Successful organizations face two challenges when bringing in new people with fresh perspectives. One is well-known— the not-invented-here syndrome. The other— the awe-of-the-institution syndrome (an issue with young new hires)—is often overlooked.
The former has not been a problem for us, thank goodness, because we have an open cul- ture: Continually embracing change the way we do makes newcomers less threatening. Sev- eral prominent outsiders who have had a big impact on us (in terms of the exciting ideas they introduced and the strong people they at- tracted) were readily accepted. They include Brad Bird, who directed The Incredibles and Ra- tatouille; Jim Morris, who headed Industrial Light & Magic for years before joining Pixar as the producer of WALL·E and executive vice president of production; and Richard Hollander, a former executive of the special- effects studio Rhythm & Hues, who is leading an effort to improve our production processes.
The bigger issue for us has been getting young new hires to have the confidence to speak up. To try to remedy this, I make it a practice to speak at the orientation sessions for new hires, where I talk about the mistakes
we’ve made and the lessons we’ve learned. My intent is to persuade them that we haven’t got- ten it all figured out and that we want every- one to question why we’re doing something that doesn’t seem to make sense to them. We do not want people to assume that because we are successful, everything we do is right.
• • •
For 20 years, I pursued a dream of making the first computer-animated film. To be honest, after that goal was realized—when we fin- ished Toy Story—I was a bit lost. But then I re- alized the most exciting thing I had ever done was to help create the unique environment that allowed that film to be made. My new goal became, with John, to build a studio that had the depth, robustness, and will to keep searching for the hard truths that preserve the confluence of forces necessary to create magic. In the two years since Pixar’s merger with Dis- ney, we’ve had the good fortune to expand that goal to include the revival of Disney Ani- mation Studios. It has been extremely gratify- ing to see the principles and approaches we developed at Pixar transform this studio. But the ultimate test of whether John and I have achieved our goals is if Pixar and Disney are still producing animated films that touch world culture in a positive way long after we two, and our friends who founded and built Pixar with us, are gone.
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Further Reading
A R T I C L E S
Leading Clever People
by Rob Goffee and Gareth Jones
Harvard Business Review
March 2007 Product no. R0703D
In an economy driven by ideas and intellec- tual know-how, top executives recognize the importance of employing smart, highly cre- ative people. But if clever people have one de- fining characteristic, it’s that they do not want to be led. So what is a leader to do? The au- thors conducted more than 100 interviews with leaders and their clever people at major organizations such as PricewaterhouseCoo- pers, Cisco Systems, and the BBC. What they learned is that the psychological relationships effective leaders have with their clever people are very different from the ones they have with traditional followers. Those relationships can be shaped by seven characteristics that clever people share: 1) They know their worth—and they know you have to employ them if you want their tacit skills. 2) They are organizationally savvy and will seek the com- pany context in which their interests are most generously funded. 3) They ignore corporate hierarchy; although intellectual status is im- portant to them, you can’t lure them with pro- motions. 4) They expect instant access to top management, and if they don’t get it, they may think the organization doesn’t take their work seriously. 5) They are plugged into highly developed knowledge networks, which both increases their value and makes them more of a flight risk. 6) They have a low boredom threshold, so you have to keep them chal- lenged and committed. 7) They won’t thank you—even when you’re leading them well. The trick is to act like a benevolent guardian: grant your clever people the respect and rec- ognition they demand, protect them from or- ganizational rules and politics, and give them room to pursue private efforts and even to fail. The payoff will be a flourishing crop of cre-
ative minds that will enrich your whole orga- nization.
Cooking Up the Next Big Thing
By Teresa Amabile, Dorothy Leonard, Susaan Straus, Kevin P. Coyne, Patricia Gorman Clifford, and Renee Dye HBR Article Collection December 2007 Product no. 2655
Gourmet jelly beans. Baseball fantasy camps. $200 sneakers. These smash-hit products were cooked up in organizations dead-set on in- venting the Next Big Thing before rivals could. But successful innovations don’t stem from merely a talent for creative thinking. Even the freshest idea isn’t worth much unless consum- ers are interested and you can make the idea profitable. To meet these criteria, temper creativity with discipline. First, unleash em- ployees’ creative powers by giving them juicy challenges; keys include stretch assign- ments and freedom to decide how to tackle tasks. But don’t let people run amok. Orga- nize brainstorming sessions to include peo- ple with diverse thinking styles, and structure brainstormers’ creativity by posing con- crete questions. For instance, the query “What businesses could we invent if we repro- duced something children love in an extreme form for adults?” sparked the development of Rollerblades, Häagen-Dazs ice cream, and Spider-Man movies. Balance creativity and discipline, and you get a feast of great ideas you can transform into profitable reality.
For the exclusive use of M. Mallouh
This document is authorized for use only by Mohammed Mallouh in 2014 B Summer ENTR 661.25 taught by Cox from April 2014 to October 2014.