Strategy, Seen with Quieter Eyes.

Not a Framework. An Invitation.

Bonjour. I once visited the Louvre expecting inspiration to arrive like a quarterly metric. Instead, I found myself wandering the halls of masterpieces, feeling oddly disconnected. The art was breathtaking, yet I remained unmoved.

At first, I blamed the museum. Too much. Too scattered. No clear narrative thread. But after two hours of restless searching, I sat still. And something shifted.

The problem wasn't the Louvre. It was me. I'd arrived demanding meaning on my timeline, expecting art to perform like a dashboard. Art doesn't work that way. Neither does strategy or leadership.

This echoed a familiar pattern from my work leading product. We'd build comprehensive roadmaps: every segment covered, every competitor countered. Rigorous. Data-backed. Lifeless. They had structure but no soul. Coverage but no conviction.

Then, in a quiet corner, one statue reframed everything.

Venus de Milo stopped me mid-step. Her missing arms weren't a flaw; they were the point. What was absent made everything else more present. She taught me that subtraction can be more powerful than addition.

That moment changed how I lead.

I returned to work and ruthlessly cut features from our backlogs. Not randomly, but with purpose. Finding the one truth that defined each product and letting everything else fall away.

The results came slowly, then suddenly. Teams unified. Vision clarified. Products found their pulse.

Coverage builds structure, but conviction makes it resonate.

The Louvre had taught me to listen rather than demand. Venus had shown me that restraint beats reach. Both lessons transformed hollow plans into products people love. Clarity doesn't come from more data. It comes from listening with quieter eyes.

Product strategy is three exercises:

1. Analytical: When markets need mapping. Spreadsheets and frameworks reveal patterns. Spotify's personalization engine turned listening data into daily habits.

2. Creative: When problems need reframing. Whiteboards and wild ideas unlock possibilities. Airbnb transformed "accommodation" into "belonging."

3. Sculptural: When excess needs carving. Deletion and focus reveal essence. Apple removed keyboards to reimagine phones.

The art is blending them, knowing when to analyze, imagine, or sculpt.

I've shared two extremes: a museum teaching patience, a statue teaching restraint. Most days require a blend.

This is my lesson, born in Paris. Yours might spark from a customer call, a failed launch, or an unexpected pause. When it arrives, listen.

What gave your work its pulse? I'd love to hear the story that changed how you lead.