'Awake! arise! the hour is late!
Angels are knocking at thy door!
They are in haste and cannot wait,
And once departed come no more.’
HW Longfellow, ‘A Fragment'

I recently attended an exhibition exploring the intimate relationship between art and science. ‘The Art of Innovation’ at the Science Museum, London, considers how creative thought has been integral to many scientific breakthroughs and how technological change has inspired a good deal of great art. (The exhibition runs until 26 January, but you can also listen to a BBC podcast on the same theme.)

'I am enough of the artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.’
Albert Einstein

Observe how the train revolutionised timekeeping, how the study of botany precipitated the first photography book, how Polaroids inspired David Hockney. Learn about experiments with laughing gas, about orreries, artificial limbs and delta wing jets. Examine John Constable’s records of the clouds over Hampstead Heath, Eadweard Muybridge’s photographic studies of ‘The Horse in Motion’, and Ada Lovelace’s illustration of the first algorithm - the unassuming Note G. It’s fascinating stuff.

I was particularly taken with the story of mauve.

In 1856 the 18-year-old student chemist William Perkin was experimenting in his shed in Shadwell, East London. He wanted to see if he could synthesize the anti-malarial drug quinine from aniline, a derivative of coal tar. The experiment failed and he was left with a black sludge. Still curious, he determined to dry this sludge into a powder, which he then dissolved in methylated spirit. This process produced a rich purple solution. The inquisitive Perkin then tried dipping a piece of white silk into the solution and was struck by how well the fabric took the purple colour.

Most fabric dyes at that time were extracted from plants and lychens, and were expensive and limited in variety. The industrial revolution had created a booming textile industry and an increasing demand for new, more affordable colours.

Assured by dye experts that this new compound could function well as a commercial dye, Perkin and his family built a factory near Harrow and marketed the dye under the sophisticated French name ‘mauve’. The British public, the great and the good, and even Queen Victoria, were delighted with the new, vibrant purple fabrics. Mauve became the most fashionable colour of the 1850s and 1860s. It was the first of a new generation of cheap, high quality synthetic dyes.

‘The mauve complaint is very catching: indeed, cases might be cited, where the lady of the house having taken the infection, all the family have caught it before the week was out.’
Punch, 1859

Of course the history books are filled with great scientific discoveries and inventions that began with a chance event, a happy accident.

Penicillin was discovered by Alexander Fleming after he returned to his lab from a two-week holiday to find that a mould had grown on some of his culture and killed the staphylococci he’d been investigating.

The Kellogg brothers invented corn flakes after boiling wheat for too long in a sanatorium kitchen.

Velcro was conceived by Swiss engineer George de Mestral after he got burrs stuck in his clothes when he went hiking.

The microwave was created by engineer Percy Spencer after his chocolate bar melted while he was testing a new vacuum tube.

Silk dress dyed with William Henry Perkin’s mauve aniline dye. Photo by SSPL/Getty Images.

‘One sometimes finds what one is not looking for.'
Alexander Flemming

We can all probably think of instances in our own careers when an unexpected occurrence has produced a fortuitous outcome – a random experience, a misguided experiment, a serendipitous conversation. The unforeseen consequences of unplanned events often deliver breakthroughs and revelations. Chance can play a key role in innovation.

But we have to be agile and alert to respond to a happy accident. We have to be curious, open to distraction, prepared to take a different path. The window of opportunity rarely remains open for very long.

Perkin was probably not the first scientist to conduct that particular experiment on aniline. But whereas others had thrown away the black sludge, he persisted, sensing there was something worthwhile further down the line.

I suspect that sometimes we’re too focused on achieving our objectives to be distracted by the unplanned and unexpected. We may be too time-constrained to pursue our curiosity; too disciplined to redirect our resources. We’ll never know how many chances have passed us by because we were cautious, blinkered or blind.

Of course we all want to be beneficiaries of random good fortune. But we have to ask ourselves: Are we sufficiently open-minded to spot a happy accident? Are we willing to pursue a possibility even when it’s not what we originally envisaged? Will we open the door when opportunity knocks?

'Getting stuck on you, baby,
Was the last thing I had in mind.
But now you got me wanting you, baby,
Want your love all the time.
I slipped, tripped and fell in love,
Fell in love with you, baby.’
Ann Peebles, ‘Slipped, Tripped and Fell in Love’ (G Jackson)

No. 260