Jack the Octopus Master
I was around 15 or 16 when I made the life-changing decision of choosing my A-Levels. It was not an easy decision, fraught with future dangers and disappointments.
I wanted to do everything, but this was impossible, you had to specialise. How preposterous, I heard my Maths teacher think, I wouldn’t choose maths, but German instead?! Shouldn’t you do some other languages too? Oh, and Geography? Right…
But this combination, amongst many other random experiences and unusual choices, has given me the ability to dip a tentacle into many ponds, however shallow or deep that may be. I don’t regret knowing about how rivers and volcanoes form, to the fall of the Berlin Wall and die Umwelt und biologische Fabriken and the difference between anthocyanin and erythromycin and adenosine triphosphate.
I received a lot of ‘wisdom’ and ‘advice’ from teachers I liked and respected, but I knew they couldn’t understand my decisions. One thing that has still stuck with me over 10 years later is a teacher saying the phrase - Jack of all trades, master of none.
Many years later, at the Louisiana’s Irreplaceable Human exhibition, I came across the work of Agnes Denes, including an essay entitled The Octopus Model.
Denes describes a body of knowledge in the form of an octopus, with many tentacles representing specialisations. Out of these tentacles grow more, and as more tentacles multiply and extend they grow further from each other. They have narrowing interests and develop completely different languages, causing communication with the main body to become more complex, delayed and misconstrued. Feedback mechanisms which regulate and direct the body no longer understand one another despite their mutual need for exchange. Most of the time information doesn’t even make it this far.
All Trades
This phenomenon was something I felt deeply as I navigated my new life as an undergraduate. In 4 years I went from 11 subjects down to 4, then 3, then into the modular tentacles of chemistry, biology and biochemistry. Never mind the writing and comprehension skills I learnt in English, or the different coding sequence of German grammar, these weren’t scientific, or of any use to my training apparently. One of the first things we learnt in organic chemistry was the nomenclature of carbon-based molecules. From ethanol to polylactic acid to 4-Hydroxy-3-methoxybenzaldehyde (otherwise known as vanillin), I learnt how these words translate to symbols. Nothing to do with language though, this is pure chemistry.
I had a rare opportunity of comparing how different degrees are taught, even dipping my toes into the art department's offering of Patterns and Culture - probably one of my favourite modules (and highest grades… are you sure you’re a scientist?). From the geometric tiles of the Alhambra to the journey of glass blowing and ceramic glazes along the Silk Roads, my eyes were opened to a whole new way of thinking about studying, art, and science. It was also a new building to be explored - if you were ever early to a lecture (I surprised myself), you could admire the cabinet of dyes and pigments which had been extracted, synthesised and stored in a passage between the textile and chemistry departments where the lecture theatre was situated. They had a suitably aged look; handwritten labels, sepia tint, cracked edges. A forgotten display of colour and chemistry’s shared pursuit.
After a while into my degree, I was conscious of a feeling of absence, without being able to place it for a while. I realised I lacked creative output, bombarded with information and protocols, the strange third person of research papers completely devoid of personality, hiding any mishaps or mistakes in error bars and unpublished notes. A conversation with a friend I wish I’d met earlier that year, but perhaps at just the right time, finally confirmed out loud what had been nagging me quietly inside. Attempting to remove bias has taken away the fundamental reasons people experiment in the first place, and the context surrounding them. I wanted to know more about the people behind the theories and experiments. Or was this just science? What did I have to give up to fit in? What would I get in return? Was this a fair trade or was I sacrificing myself to achieve someone else’s vision? A polished version, repackaged and remoulded for their production line.
Naturally, most of the modules I chose were from science departments, in hindsight maybe I should’ve done an “Introduction to Brewing” - popular with chemistry students and taught by my future supervisor. A topic I have continually returned to despite meandering through many others. Everything happens for a reason... but I got to experience what most degrees don’t offer to the same extent, to craft my studies around my diverse interests.
This wasn’t without its downsides. Approaches to teaching undergraduate students were vastly different even in related departments and I spent a lot of time trying to timetable my module choices, running in between lectures and maintaining some semblance of professional development whilst still pursuing my curiosity. All my labs clashed with each other, I completely missed a big chunk of another - what online assessment…? - lost my lab notebook, had to retake my fundamentals of organic chemistry and barely scraped by others. Did I sacrifice depth for breadth or were my expectations just too high? My experience almost feels outdated now, with advances in synthetic biology and computation creating a need for specialists whose job titles didn’t exist a few years ago.
Nothings and (2) Ones
As Artificial Intelligence creeps in, or rather blatantly mussels itself into every corner of society, everyone can know anything, becoming an expert with just a few prompts. Noisy thoughts are streamlined and even the most complex ideas can be whittled down into not only x but also y. As technology progresses, the latest model is soon obsolete in an arms race of energy, money and mindfulness.
Denes (1969) describes how in order to build expertise, breadth is sacrificed for depth, "specialisation, by definition, is narrow, limited, restricted and concentrated". This does result in incredible detail, analyses and discoveries, but without being filtered, condensed and translated for even a willing audience, never mind a universal one, "ideas, events and all human traffic become increasingly tangled" (Denes 1969). In the condensation of information nuance is lost and the line between fact and fiction is further fuzzied. I have witnessed this both within science and how science positions itself within society. The feigned naivety of scientists, for example, selectively oblivious to political and economic agendas whilst upholding the superiority of science and its method, pits all subjects against another (Orwell, 1945).
Dealing with controversy is not usually in a scientist’s repertoire. I say this because although science is riddled with controversies (and it is one in itself) we are not equipped with the tools to deal with it. Too impartial, too apolitical, programmed to remove humanity, remain unbiased but ignoring them does not make them go away. Viruses, vaccines, horsemeat, symbiosis, the sun, radioactivity, gravity and the geometry of the Earth, have all been subject to heated debates - there are a plethora of topics where science is the question and the answer.
What is the true value of knowledge? Success is measured in output rather than process, remaining a black box that only the specialist understands (and sometimes not even then). It is better to admit you don’t know something, rather than squeeze and strain an answer that may cost you in the future. Despite even the best intentions the final piece says very little about the journey, the trials and tribulations, decisions and regrets which seasoned them. A strange new flavour of perfectionism, which looks flawless but lacks taste. I wonder how different life would be and simultaneously feel a sense of gratitude that I had to struggle through writing essays (and honestly still do). How has education changed because of the unknown humanity of your work? Perhaps it would have made my self-organisation easier, but the oracle of unlimited knowledge is dangling tantalisingly close.
Denes put into words what I felt but couldn’t articulate, in the way I viscerally pulled back from any box I was being put in. Yet, I still can’t quantify the loss of depth as I grow an intertwined network where disparate ideas tentatively link together. Does everything make sense when you know the underlying frameworks?
Mastering the Octopus
Where has that left me today? Struggling to really find something that combines my odd set of skills and delta of knowledge, not enough of anything and reluctant to choose one path - who knows where it might lead? But the thing is, whilst you feel like you can’t go back, retracing your steps you lose all that progress you made, but standing still gets you nowhere either. There isn’t just one road to take you where you want to be, and just because you take a detour doesn’t mean you’ll be stuck there forever. All the tropes - not all those who wander are lost, but maybe you need to be lost to find what you’re looking for… not the most comforting words maybe, but let’s stop pretending anyone really knows what they’re doing. Who can be trusted?
The octopus that changes its colours to blend in or stand out, depending on the mood? Bias is hiding but you can’t be controversial. The loops which repeat, metabolic mechanisms or colourful fractals, recurring themes are noticed the longer you stare at the clouds. The structures which support, diffuse and reflect ideas back at us are felt in waves, unseen and vaguely understood. As information passes from the tentacles to the public sphere, it becomes fragmented, clipped into soundbites and remixed with thousands of other sources (Denes, 1969). The dissemination of information is drastically faster, more immediate and inescapable than it was even a decade ago.
Fundamental wants and needs are still inescapably human, to be heard, seen and felt, no matter how advanced or primitive we believe ourselves to be. As we spread our tentacles further, unfurling the tightly coiled identities and conjoining minds, narrative is one constant; personal, technical and intangible, but firmly grounded and persistent. The octopus is only understood once you have all the pieces, and they listen to each other. It does not exist in isolation, but surrounded by semiotics which bring it to life, whether conscious or not.
Specialisation is still needed to make progress professionally, but we do not need to be siloed and neatly categorised. As data accumulates, whether on academic shelves or private servers, bodies are still starved of the nourishment they need. Dogmas and paradigms are militantly protected, despite their desire for justification. Delving deeper into your expertise gives a sense of self, and a uniqueness that no matter what shape you try to mould yourself into, your fingerprints are still detectable. The mathematician that plays music or the biologist that paints life or the economist and aspiring polyglot (it's all the same in rhythm and patterns) are enriched by these pursuits. The false dichotomy of art vs. science is only a recent invention and, as my explorations continue, any evidence of its true existence fails to materialise. There is still a lot for me to figure out, but I hope to encourage myself and others to shed the linear expectations, embrace the spirals and pursue your curiosity.
I will continue striving to be a ‘Jack of all trades’, and maybe I will master one along the way.
Readings and References
American Chemical Society (2022) ‘What’s the difference between art and science?’, ChemMatters, April. Available at: https://www.acs.org/content/dam/acsorg/education/resources/highschool/chemmatters/documents/what-is-the-difference-between-art-and-science.pdf
Banks, M. (2022) ‘A paper used capital T’s instead of error bars. But wait, there’s more!’, Retraction Watch, 5 December. Available at: https://retractionwatch.com/2022/12/05/a-paper-used-capital-ts-instead-of-error-bars-but-wait-theres-more/
Rodríguez, S. L., et al. (2003). Geometría Fractal en la Alhambra . Patronato de la Alhambra y el Generalife. Available at: https://www.alhambra-patronato.es/ria/bitstream/handle/10514/14198/2%20CUADERNOS%2039%20%282003%29%20encriptado.pdf?sequence=1
Denes, A. (1976-2008.) Writings. Available at: http://www.agnesdenesstudio.com/writingsby.html
Di Geronimo, V. (2023) ‘Agnes Denes. Data, Analysis, Abstraction’, Arshake, 26 July. Available at: https://www.arshake.com/en/data-analysis-and-abstraction-a-journey-through-the-work-of-agnes-denes/
Henderson, J., Morgan, S.L., & Salonia, M. (Eds.). (2024). Reimagining the Silk Roads: Interactions and Perceptions Across Eurasia (1st ed.). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781003348702
International Society for Biosemiotic Studies (2026) International Society for Biosemiotic Studies. Available at: https://www.biosemiotics.org/
Lewandowsky, S. (2025) ‘Trojan gold: New US “standard” is another veiled attack on science’, Science, 390(6770), Available at: doi:10.1126/science.aeb9857.
Meyer, F. (2013) How Octopuses and Squids Change Color. Smithsonian. Available at: https://ocean.si.edu/ocean-life/invertebrates/how-octopuses-and-squids-change-color
Orwell, G. (1945) ‘What is science?’, Tribune. Available at: https://orwell.ru/library/articles/science/english/e_scien
Sloman, L. (2024). The Mathematician Who Finds the Poetry in Math and the Math in Poetry. Quanta Magazine. Available at: https://www.quantamagazine.org/the-theorist-who-sees-math-in-art-music-and-writing-20240112/
Thresher, A. C. (2023) ‘The divide between art and science is a mistake’, IAI News, 2 November. Available at: ttps://iai.tv/articles/the-divide-between-art-and-science-is-a-mistake-auid-2660
Louisiana Museum of Modern Art (2024) ‘The Irreplaceable Human’, Louisiana Museum of Modern Art. Available at: https://louisiana.dk/en/exhibition/the-irreplaceable-human/
UNESCO (2025) ‘AI and the future of education: disruptions, dilemmas and directions’, UNESCO, 25 September. Available at: https://www.unesco.org/en/articles/ai-and-future-education-disruptions-dilemmas-and-directions-0
Xu, S., Ren, G., Du, M., Aarab, A., Wu, W. & Yang, Y. 2026. “The Turquoise Glaze Road: From West Asia to China.” Archaeometry 1–10. https://doi.org/10.1111/arcm.70108.