“Can’t Be Done?” – A Story About Boundaries That Are Meant to Be Moved
By Svetlana Gašević
How many times have you heard the words, “Can’t be done”?
Me – countless.
And every time, instead of discouraging me, that sentence pushed me to move the boundary. First, my own. And then – if I was lucky and brave enough – someone else’s. Market boundaries. Procedural ones. Resource-related. Psychological.
One of my favorite stories of that kind happened while organizing the celebration of the 100th anniversary of the Novi Sad Fair.
It was an event that demanded something special, different, grand.
And I had an idea – to position the orchestra across three levels, three floors of the fair’s venue, while the conductor stood at a significant distance – almost isolated, yet close enough to be seen by the musicians.
The whole concept was designed so the audience would be within the music, not merely in front of it.
The orchestra would play from all directions.
The guests would become part of an acoustic experience, surrounded by sound and emotion.
Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?
Now imagine the moment when, one by one, everyone tells you:
“That can’t be done.”
The tech team: can’t be done.
The orchestra: can’t be done.
The directors: don’t know how to pull it off.
Only my team and the director we hired truly understood me.
Still, I didn’t give up.
Not because I’m stubborn. But because I believed the idea made sense.
And because I’ve learned that “can’t be done” doesn’t necessarily mean impossible.
Sometimes it just means: “I’m afraid it won’t work.”
In that situation, my job wasn’t to ignore the “no.”
It was to listen, analyze, and separate real obstacles from fear.
Some concerns were valid – yes, it was technically demanding, the orchestra wasn’t used to being physically distant from the conductor, and there were doubts about synchronization and transmission.
But most of the “can’t be done” came from discomfort: “We’ve never done it this way.”
That’s where creativity begins.
Right there – at the edge of familiar patterns.
I insisted on rehearsals. On tests. On adaptations.
We found solutions – technical, staging, acoustic – and in the end, it all came together.
And not only did it happen – it was spectacular.
The audience was immersed in the music, and the conductor appeared in close-up on an LED screen, which made the experience even more powerful.
It was a moment when everyone realized: It can be done.
And every time I remember it, I reaffirm what I deeply believe:
Creativity and resourcefulness are two sides of the same coin.
Creativity gives birth to the idea.
Resourcefulness brings it to life.
Not everything succeeds.
But it’s worth trying every time “can’t be done” sounds more like fear than fact.
So, the next time you hear “can’t be done” – don’t ignore it.
Ask why. Break it down. Start looking for a window in the wall.
Because maybe you will be the one to move the boundary – for yourself and for others.
And maybe that’s where the key to your success lies.
To sum it up:
Injustice doesn’t always come from the outside – often, it hides in rules that stifle creativity.
“Can’t be done” doesn’t mean impossible – more often, it means unfamiliar or uncomfortable.
Choose consciously to listen – but also to believe in your own insight.
Innovation happens when you answer “can’t be done” with “Let’s try it this way.”
