Creativity as an Antidote to Chronological Snobbery

Feb 8, 2026


“People think because the bread is fresh, it must be better than yesterday’s. But sometimes, yesterday’s bread is just what you need for a good ribollita.”* - Fioravante

(*Ribollita is a Tuscan soup made with leftover bread and vegetables.)


Why do we fall so easily under the spell of the new? Why are we so quick to dismiss the old as obsolete and yesterday’s ideas as leftovers best thrown out? C.S. Lewis called this inclination “chronological snobbery”. He described it in Surprised by Joy (1955) as a tendency of ours to judge ourselves as intellectually superior to whatever has gone out of date and discredited (Lewis 254). 

Before we discard an old idea, however, Lewis suggests we ask: Why did it fall out of fashion?:

“Was it ever refuted (and if so by whom, where, and how conclusively) or did it merely die away as fashions do? If the latter, this tells us nothing about its truth or falsehood. From seeing this, one passes to the realisation that our own age is also a period, and certainly has, like all periods, its own characteristic illusions. They are likeliest to lurk in those widespread assumptions which are so ingrained in the age that no one dares to attack or feels it necessary to defend them” (Lewis 254). 

What are our hidden assumptions that quietly distort how we see the world? How might we notice and question them? If we saw the world from unexpected angles, could this bring us closer to what is true?

Perhaps creativity is the antidote to chronological snobbery: it invites us to look at the world sideways to peer through the kaleidoscope with curiosity and wonder.

Seeing the World Askew: A Few Experiments

One way to view the world askew is to reverse the usual direction of causality by flipping the subject with the object. Instead of “How did Vatican II influence Italian culture?”, we could ask “How did Italian culture influence Vatican II?”. This kind of reversal can help us notice what has long been there, but seldom seen.

Or perhaps we might treat what is rare as the natural order, and what is normal as an oddity. For example:

  • instead of assuming remote work is a lesser alternative to office work, we might consider whether remote work is actually the original mode of human collaboration (e.g., medieval scholars exchanging letters across Europe), or
  • instead of assuming the reverence towards humanities and the arts in Renaissance Florence was a unique anomaly, it might actually be the default model of human creativity, and industrialized society is the anomaly, or
  • instead of treating success as the expected way of being as individuals, we might study whether failure is the norm and success is just the rare case that we pay attention to.

Italo Calvino was a master at challenging implicit assumptions in his literary works, especially in his Marcovaldo’s stories where what is considered normal is always a little absurd. For example, Marcovaldo never fits into the world of fluorescent lights and supermarkets, and instead sees the modern structures of the city as puzzling and illogical. And in Mr. Palomar, ordinary things – a wave at the sea, the moon, a blade of grass, a slipper – somehow seem to become the subjects gazing back at him and inviting his attention, rather than being passive objects.

To look at things askew is not to avoid facing them directly, but to search for subtler truths. 

If we looked at the world with a tilted gaze instead of head-on, we might discover a whole new world at the back of the wardrobe – the odd, the rare, the quiet and the unusual. Approaching things with creativity allows us to see life from a different viewpoint, and perhaps more clearly. It seems to me worth trying if we want to see what we’ve been missing all along. 

Are there any other creative methods we could use to see the world, perhaps in a more true light?

 

Works Cited

Lewis, C. S. Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life. HarperOne, 1955.

 

 

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Filmmaker's Introduction

Film Review

“Delizioso ed elegante: un perfetto connubio naturale-umano-artistico, diciamo un idillio tra storia e natura dove non c’è posto per “il male di vivere.”

- Dott. Lino Pertile, Carl A. Pescosolido Professore Emerito di Lingue e Letterature Romanze, Università di Harvard

 
“Delightful and elegant: a perfect union of nature, humanity and art – one could say an idyllic blend of history and nature where there’s no room for “the pain of living”.

- Dr. Lino Pertile, Professor Emeritus of Romance Languages and Literatures, Harvard University

Synopsis

A man pauses at the edge of a garden, where small, ordinary moments reveal an enchanted world at peace.

Scored to the Intermezzo from Cavalleria rusticana by Pietro Mascagni, the film becomes what might be called an intermezzo of its own – a brief and somewhat unfashionable pause in an otherwise busy world.

 

Director's Statement

Otium

During the Renaissance, humanists revisited the Latin concept of leisure – otium – and reimagined it not as an escape from life, but as another way of living more fully. It did not mean idleness, at least not in the modern sense of doing nothing in particular. It meant a deliberate kind of pause: time spent on reading, reflection, and the cultivation of thought. Stepping away from the constant activity of life – negotium – was not a failure of duty, but simply another way of fulfilling it. By cultivating a peaceful disposition, they developed a more serene way of being in the world.

The Garden

The man in this film lives, perhaps without announcing it, in that older rhythm by practising a form of otium in a world that has largely forgotten the word. As he pauses at a gate to enjoy a garden, his transformation does not come from the garden itself. He is already at peace, and because of that, the world around him begins to reveal itself differently. In this way, the garden becomes less of an external magical place than a reflection of his own interior condition – almost like a mirror.

Throughout the centuries, travellers longing for Eden searched for it in distant places – in Mesopotamia, in India, on remote islands, somewhere beyond the horizon. But they could never find this earthly paradise – perhaps because it is not a place to be found, but a mode of seeing to be cultivated.

This film does not suggest that peace can be found simply by searching for Eden or going somewhere quiet. Rather, it suggests that when you are at peace, the world reveals itself differently.

 

Read also the accompanying reflection: Beyond the Wall, a Garden

Trailer

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