"Experiments were not attempted at that time, we did not believe in the usefulness of the concept anyway, and I finished my thesis in 1962 with a feeling like an artist balancing on a high rope without any interested spectators"
About this Quote
It’s a scientist admitting, with almost comic candor, that he was doing “science” in a way the culture around him barely recognized as science. Richard Ernst’s line has the clipped, rueful rhythm of a postwar research world still sorting out what counted: experiments were the currency, results the proof, and anything too conceptual could be dismissed as airy speculation. By confessing “we did not believe in the usefulness of the concept anyway,” Ernst isn’t just describing a technical disagreement; he’s exposing a collective blind spot. The “we” matters. This wasn’t one stubborn advisor or one conservative lab, but a shared institutional mood that treated certain ideas as indulgent.
Then he swerves into metaphor: “an artist balancing on a high rope without any interested spectators.” That’s not romantic self-mythmaking so much as a precise diagnosis of intellectual isolation. A tightrope act is skill under risk; artistry is present even when the crowd is absent. He’s saying the work demanded finesse and nerve, yet the reward structure offered no applause, no immediate validation, maybe not even comprehension. The subtext is brutal: without an audience, genius feels like delusion.
The context sharpens the sting. Ernst finished in 1962, before many of the conceptual and methodological shifts that would later make his kind of thinking indispensable (and, eventually, celebrated). The quote reads like an x-ray of how breakthroughs incubate: not as triumphant eureka moments, but as long stretches of being out of sync with the tastes, metrics, and imaginations of your own field.
Then he swerves into metaphor: “an artist balancing on a high rope without any interested spectators.” That’s not romantic self-mythmaking so much as a precise diagnosis of intellectual isolation. A tightrope act is skill under risk; artistry is present even when the crowd is absent. He’s saying the work demanded finesse and nerve, yet the reward structure offered no applause, no immediate validation, maybe not even comprehension. The subtext is brutal: without an audience, genius feels like delusion.
The context sharpens the sting. Ernst finished in 1962, before many of the conceptual and methodological shifts that would later make his kind of thinking indispensable (and, eventually, celebrated). The quote reads like an x-ray of how breakthroughs incubate: not as triumphant eureka moments, but as long stretches of being out of sync with the tastes, metrics, and imaginations of your own field.
Quote Details
| Topic | Loneliness |
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