When everyone is looking at the handbags and you are looking at the glass... Frustration Innovation

On observation, real innovation, and the quiet geniuses of construction

The glass vault of Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II in Milan is a symbol of engineering innovation.

I was at the Politecnico di Milano for a module dedicated to Case study methodology and Action research approach in the field of industrial and information engineering.

My head was full of theories, models, concepts, and diagrams.

I needed a walk. Kilometres in a step-tracking app. A breath of fresh air. Silence without tables and references. And yet, a hunger for observation. Details. People. Shadows on the sidewalks of the Duomo. I want to rest, and yet I feed on data and analysis.

I'm walking through the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II in Milan. The mosaics underfoot sparkle in the morning light, luxury screams from the shop windows, and the scents of perfume waft through the air. People walk slowly, measuredly, absorbing the streets with their gaze. They observe the shop windows, themselves in them, and other passersby – who is better dressed, who is carrying which handbag, which shoes, who will get the better shot for social media.

They look straight ahead. They look down. But rarely – almost no one – looks up. If they do, they quickly lower their heads. It's as if every second of staring at the sky is worth something.

And up there? A masterpiece of engineering genius floats above. A glass vault connected to a monumental dome, elegantly supported on an iron structure in the shape of a Latin cross. The weight it carries, the range it covers, the transparency it provides - all of it stands over us like a silent force. He doesn't seek attention. It doesn't pop out. It just works flawlessly.

The genius behind the glass

The gallery was built between 1865 and 1877 and designed by Giuseppe Mengoni, an architect whose passion was the unification of art, architecture and technological progress. From an engineering perspective, it was a revolutionary project for its time – an iron lattice structure was used, combined with glass, which allowed the creation of a huge internal street, covered, airy, and bright, without any columns in the middle.

The structure was an early example of proto-modernism, where iron and glass – industrial materials – were used not only for functionality but also to create emotional space. It was a harbinger of what would later become the norm in the construction of large urban spaces, including shopping malls, train stations, and airports.

And when I see it – that glass dome above us all – I can't help but think: how many people even notice it and in what way? How many of them know they're walking through an architectural revolution?

Looking at that monumental glass dome overhead, it's hard not to think about how much engineering complexity it must have been for the second half of the 19th century. Just imagine: combining the most advanced materials at the time – iron and glass – in a form that doesn't imitate the past, but instead tries to surpass it. No computer models, no simulations, no digital blueprints. Just paper, calculations, experience and vision. What was the return on investment at that time? Who would even approve of that today?

If we were to present such a solution to modern investors today – including banks, funds, and shareholders – the question is whether it would be accepted. A whole series of questions would follow: “What is the ROI? Can it be done cheaper? Can it be modular? Can the effect be created through LED technology?” Very likely, the final project would end up with a functional roof, flat, economical, perhaps digital, but certainly devoid of expressive engineering courage.

Because today's world is increasingly striving for design simplification. Everything is becoming thinner, lighter, and reduced to a minimum. Architecture is becoming utilitarian; form is subordinated to function, and beauty is measured through cost-effectiveness metrics. And perhaps this is a natural development. But looking from a future perspective – in 100 or 200 years, will people see today's solutions as an expression of genius, or will they experience them as an expression of limitation?

In a world where everything is valued by speed, efficiency, and measurable outcomes, is there still room for disruptive engineering complexities?

Similar to watch complications – mechanical watches with over 500 parts, hand-made, with functions that most people will never use. Who really needs a wristwatch that can accurately determine leap years or astronomical cycles these days?

Probably no one. But these watches continue to be made. Not because they are necessary, but because they speak to humanity's ability and desire to overcome complexity. Just like this dome – it doesn't have to be profitable. It may be just that: a message in a time capsule.

Proof that, at one point in history, we decided to create something that makes sense not only for the market but also for the spirit and curiosity. Something that doesn't stand just for profit – but because it can stand.

An innovation that no one sees

Today, we encounter the word "innovation" everywhere. Everyone is innovative. Everything is disruptive. Every company, every product, every PowerPoint slide. Innovation has become a slogan.

But real innovation – like that glass construction – doesn't demand attention. She just wears. It just changes the structure of the world - quietly.

I remember a conversation I had with an expert in the innovation ecosystem. I told him that I was developing an innovation that almost no one understood. To which he said:

"So what kind of innovation is this that no one understands? You need to speak with users again. Because if they don't understand it, they won't be able to use it or buy it.

And in one dimension, it makes sense. If we're talking about incremental innovation – about improving something known – yes, users need to understand. But if we are talking about disruptive, radical innovations ...?

How to understand what does not yet exist?

How can a user evaluate something for which they have no reference? If the market immediately accepts an innovation, doesn't that mean it has already been seen somewhere? That there is already a mental model for it? Isn't that just an improvement?

Example? The fax machine. When it was invented, the technology worked. But no one could use it – because it required a social network that didn't yet exist. The innovation was right. The time was not there.

This is not an isolated case. Most disruptive innovations do not arise from a market need, but from a technological insight, a brilliant idea or an accidental discovery. Market implementation often comes later – when the world catches up with the vision.

And that's why it confuses me: If we really believe in disruptive innovations – why do we expect them to have a market right away?

The change is not announced.

True innovation doesn't have to be immediately understandable. It doesn't have to be "market ready" in its first version. Like the 19th-century glass dome, it was too advanced for everyone to fully comprehend at first. But time has proven it.

Most people look at the obvious – what shines.

But disruptive innovators… they look to the heights.

They seek hidden layers of reality.

Maybe it can be learned. Maybe not.

And maybe it's simply a gift. A gift from heaven.

Innovators who see differently, who look beyond the line of sight, are not lost – they are just ahead.

Maybe the market doesn't understand them. Perhaps they don't know where it will take them. But like the Gallery dome – once it's built, it stays. And it changes everything around it.

So – the next time you walk through a city, or through an idea – don't just look ahead and below your feet. Look up somewhere. Maybe there's a world above you that you've yet to understand.