New-Old - re: beginnings // be still

About a week before our family decided to social distance, this beautiful headshot was taken*. I was on the verge of a new/old re-launch and re-invention of the old/new me. The idea was to restart after I had decided to take time off from office design work, so I could finish dreaming up my own home. After 10 years of almost exclusive office design, going back into the fold of residential design work was a huge learning curve. For starters the pace, which is slow and marathon like, unlike commercial work which is like an explosion of so many moving parts under the strain of tight budgets and time restrictions. Office design for me is a playground of pure joy and fun. These are moments where I shine and enjoy the collaborative work. Moments I felt like what I did had meaning and impact. Whereas residential work at times felt decadent and almost futile. Commercial and office design “happened” to me after the great crisis of 2008, no one was building homes, and certainly a designer was last in line to get any meaningful job. Now, my launch pad has been swept under me, I don’t feel like designing the new post Covid-19 workplace, it is all too sad for me to handle. 

I’m angry, sad and feel wronged. My hopes and dreams of being able to finally arrive at my moment will be for now just that. I buckle at sayings of “well, you know you could...” - They work me up in ways that I can’t express. I’m remorseful after that, not many people know the true path I had taken. I had worked so hard. I’ve been a designer for 20 years now. With 7 years of relentless 60-80 hour school and studio work, time spent of truly thinking how to make a better world for all. I have learned to convert from the metric system to the imperial one. I have seen the rise of the quick 30 minute fixer up home TV shows,  the every person is a designer trend. When I immigrated I had lost my design community, no one willing to support and reach out when I had 3 children, or when things crashed in 2008. Yet I always rose up to the occasion, knowing that as a designer constraints are my happy zone, where true creativity becomes a wonderful reality. 

But this time feels different. Like I have lost my super power, my optimism dissipating. I’m lost. Some of the lost seeds were sown ahead of Covid-19, but now they have mushroomed into a full blown abyss of lack of ability to pick up the pieces and glue any part of shattered hopes and dreams together. It seems decadent, at times futile to even write about this, does it really matter when people are dying? When there is no cure? But these questions were always there even before Covid-19, I’m a daughter of 2 doctors, I know when thigns really matter. Or do I? 

For now I chose to acknowledge. Acknowledge the pain, the hurt, the sadness, the loss. I choose to be still, to look into the eyes of the person that was photographed a mere week before it all changed, and try to figure it out with her. Design requires a deep and meaningful process, and unlike the 30 minute cooking your home shows, there is no easy fix. For now I need to go back to basics, be still and perhaps maybe start to observe. 

*photo credit:http://www.dianalevine.com/

Hot Off The Press

Photo By Dorit Beller De-Beer

The sounds of the heavy steps rushing up and down in the building's stairwell would alway startle me. I'd quickly fall back asleep and forget about it. Later when I woke up I would open the door, and there it laid, that crisp brand new newspaper. 

Every day without fail this managed give me that little ting of exciting joy 'oh what interesting piece of news will I discover today'. It held a sense of promise. 

Never mind that on some occasions I was lucky enough to be part of the team that helped bring the newspaper to life, translating away foreign news items that would hit the AP or Reuters feed (and this pre facebook age mind you). 

Newspapers are exciting and I forgot how much they are. 

Recently with the new political atmosphere we made a decision, we need to go back and become more media literate, know our facts, dig deeper to a story. Prompt our kids to see headlines, ask questions, expose them beyond the sheltered world which they are so so privilege to live in. Quest beyond a feed. 

That is starting to happen, but I also noticed some other things happen. 

I noticed how mono-news-feed assaulted we are, how the structure of a broadsheet paper allows you to physically pick and chose what and how much you want to read. How shallow our news feeds have become, how hard it is to sit and actually read through a whole article of more than 200 words. How limiting it is to our thought process when the news feed is algorithm curated to you, without the freedom of accidental diversion from a set path. The sense of adventure is lost, and with it the joy of discovery. Something very crucial to humans is slowly extinguishing, the deep sense of curiosity that drives us to challenge what is around us, and create new things that have deeper meaning. 

I was reminded how having limited physical space, as you do with printed matter, makes for better higher quality writing, that content put into print creates a bigger commitment to the subject matter. 

Same as with literal spaces, the more constraints one has the more accurate and thoughtful the design of that space will be. That sometimes less is more. 

And that I still have that small ting of excitement in me to see what the front page headline would be. That I like stepping outside in the cold for just a second to grab the paper, smell the crisp air, pause and readjust my new/old found rhythm to a start of a new day. 

The culture of coffee and the lost art of human interaction

I miss it, I really do miss it.

That feeling of just dropping my bag on the ground, leaning back inside the chair, adjusting my sunglasses, and just asking for it -- "Small cappuccino please". A few minutes later, after I managed to take a deep breath, say hello to the person I walked in with, and the aroma filled cup lands at my table, with a side of a small butter cookie. No paper cups here, no lines to stand in while non communicating cell phone glaring humans surround me, no offensive cheap cleaning detergent smell, no dry or cold baked goods. Instead there are sounds of people talking over each other while glaring music surrounds them, the sound of actual spoons clinking on the sides of the cup, a sharp smell of fresh salad being chopped. A constant feeling of something in the air. 

This is not utopia, this place does not just exist in my mind, these coffee houses are commonly found in almost every main street sidewalk, shopping mall, beach, desert, and even some gas stations all around Israel. 

I dare say it is one of the biggest cultural shocks I refuse to adjust too (that, and being told I can get 'cash back'). That fleeting moment of known theater, sitting back, and being seen for a just a millisecond. It as almost as someone stopped time just for you and asked you without too many words "Are you ok?". 

The lost culture of cafe idling is strongly tied to the high demanding office culture. That has yet to make the shift. Most people are expected to be in their work stations by a certain time. The only mark of rebellion is if you are able to walk into the office holding a logoed paper cup -- it signals to all "look at me! I'm so efficient with my time I even managed to drive through and get this lukewarm black something". There is true effort being made to shift in the office coffee culture, by bringing in state of the art coffee machines, some places go as far as bringing in a personal barista crew to your office twice a month. But it's all very artificial. As you are having coffee with the same homogeneous group of self selected people, without the outside world touching you even for a moment.  

Cafes are human interaction sanctuaries.

 

In Europe cafes were the meeting junctions of many thinkers who could cross reference ideas between disciplines. They are a place where the construction worker, the foreigner, the business person, the tired parent, the young student, all walks of life -- can for a moment have eye contact, possible real human interaction -- if they would only be allowed that moment of 'being seen' and offloaded of this pseudo artificial atmosphere of the 'small, medium or large' paper cup battle hymn. That is not a human way to have coffee, it's as if we are race cars stopping for a pit stop.

In the bedouin culture, a culture of nomads who live in the scorching desert sands, the coffee ceremony is very intricate and particular. Three cups are poured. The first will be tasted by the host, showing the guest the coffee is safe, the second will be drank by the guest himself, and then a third cup will be poured to show hospitality, and allow the guest time to talk and feel safe without being rushed out. 

I really do miss it. 

 

We all need to Lobby-up

California Academy of Science in San Francisco, CA

Museums are a place of refuge, and possess an almost spiritual pause for me. From the swish of the huge glass doors, to sounds being hushed at the lobby, to the excitement of what journey my brain, mind and soul are to embark on. 

The sheer volume of people seen in museums (art, science, children), made me wonder what is it about the quality of these spaces that make us want to go into them, and maybe even sometimes see a decent exhibition. To further that question, I want to learn if it all it would be possible, to create these types, of seemingly straightforward functional spaces of interaction, and wayfinding, work in their shunned away cousin - the office building lobby -I mean we don't all run and feel happy in offices lobbies, break spaces, or their indoor courtyard cafes (as nice and as clean as they get). 

I have recently been to both big art museums and huge office lobbies and the difference in atmosphere and vibe was so striking to me. Yes you can claim that going to a museum is a mind set of sorts, a mini break from the realities of the world -- though some exhibitions could not bring you any more closer to reality The location of big museums is carefully selected, but this is also true to some downtown office buildings, and even in office parks outside the cities. 

Could it be the intention of why you walk into any of these spaces that makes the difference? 

Hudson Yard's Lobby New York City 

But as a visitor to both these spaces, the grounds for me going to any of them can be similarly exciting // functional -- meeting a new client, creating new connections, building a new space. All (in my view) happy productive things. Where is in museums I try to get inspired while stuck in a creative process (one could claim this might create heavier expectations from that space). And yet these office lobbies depress me to the core and weigh heavy on me. Something is not "right" in them. Most of them borrow from the large 12th century cathedral ceilings, that intend to make you feel small and meaningless. Even if there is a cafe it's a very dire soulless functional one, which only makes matters worse because the lobby area smells of old coffee and stale pastries. Usually the lighting and furniture picked out for these spaces are so "inoffensive" they lack any personaly, grace or function (who wants to sit in a smelly, cold uninviting space). So many more people walk into these office lobby spaces, than to museums. I can't even imagine how they feel going in and out of these places day in and day out of their work week. 

It's not just about the reason or intention you walk with into these spaces, it is the intention (or lack of) whoever built these buildings. An office lobby is just a museum lobby without soul -- and that is the key difference. People want to feel connected, they want to feel someone has put some attention to their wellbeing. It all starts with a meaningful design process that is not just function driven. Yes it means digging deeper, but the effort will pay off in happier more content people in the work space -- and there are more people working in offices than going into museums. 

Welcome to the Machine

                Image source 

The entry of electric appliances to the house, such as the vacuum cleaner, dishwasher, washing machine, have been deemed as a way to create more free time for the modern household keeper.  
If one can magically wash a pile of dishes in one go, one has allowed themselves the time to sit and play with their kids on the neatly cleaned rug which was just vacuumed, and by the way pack a pile or two of clothing into the washing machine -- all along creating an endless cycle of magical machines working alongside each other. 
Don't get me wrong I'm all for handling the washing in a machine instead of heading down the river (especially because where I leave it gets really cold in the winter), but so much of the machine like efficiency dictates our behaviors we have become conditioned to the machine. 
The Swiss architect Le Corbusier, the forefather of our modern day housing projects, who coined the term "A house as a machine for living in", has taken this to the purest terms which has many criticising the 'inhuman' living spaces that have been created when bound to the concept of machine like living spaces. 

Recently I went on a tour of an Amish farm house. It was (I hope) an authentic replica of an existing Amish home. As we were sitting in a tourist trap of the house tour, it dawned on me how much of the so called "time freeing machines", have in actuality made for extensive work with in our day to day lives, and in fact we don't spend much less time accomplishing things in life. It's like when computer drafting tools were made part of mainstream design and architecture practices. Today we spend the same time drafting as in previous generations, but got through more iterations of the drawing, not necessarily in the same depth we used too. 

When we have magical machines whisking away the brunt of the grinding work, we just consume more dishes, clothes, and even buy more rugs to fill our homes. The Amish way of living as curious as it made me, is far from perfect, and in many ways in my view stumps natural human development.

And aside from natural resistance I have to extreme religious forms -- it made me wonder what happens to us humans, when you are limited to an certain amount of dishes, clothes, and even paint colors 
(they are only allowed to use 4 colors in their homes). When all home mysteries, such as electricity or wireless internet, are resolved in front of your eyes. Light is brought in by the sun, or use of oil lamps, hands are washed from water in ceramic basin, food is consumed from local farms. 

It might create for hard physical labor, but I have to admit that when I need to resolves problems I usually hand wash the dishes (perhaps as a means to connect to my foremothers farming roots). We as a society miss the tactile feeling of space and objects, we sometimes need to time to feel textile and not just shove it in the washer, we sometimes need to disconnect from the machine so we appreciate our ability to create and and rethink again. 

Movement Makes Meaning

How we move in space has always been something that intrigued me.

When I was five years old, at my first ballet class, there was a young ballet teacher that made us pretended there was a string attached to top of our heads, and that is how we would be pulled up to sit up straight. I fell in love with the idea that something external and conceptual could make our body move in space. 

Dance is a big part of my life, being totally tone deaf, dance is my only musical outlet of expressing joy in non verbal means. When I imagine people enjoying a space I see them in my mind almost dancing in it. Floating from spot to spot, to a rhythm and tempo the space will provide them with. 

Watching dance performances always made for an exciting and inspiring moment for me, another means of interpreting use of space through choreography and the dancers abilities. Similar to space design there is a non verbal narrative that is left to the interpretation of the viewer or user. 

But this seemingly "free form" expression is only achieved, and will only be read well by viewers or space end users after rigorous training and practice. In order to be able to improvise in space or dance you need to know the basics, the ABC of the point/flex motions and the correct arm extension. 

Over the weekend this clarity came to my mind as I was watching a lyrical hip hop interpretation performance by Rapheal Xavier , he managed to take me on a movement journey, the likes of which I have not been on far too long. He thoughtfully taught me the DNA of movements and sounds that are part of hip hop and then ventured on to go back in time to the roots of hip hop, finishing his piece with the future of hip hop. 

It was short, beautiful, soulful and so thoughtful. It was a master class of how to clearly communicate movement in space -- I was truly moved. 

Losing Touch

Making coffee to a group of designers/architects always proved to be challenging. Never mind the personal taste they each had of how to drink their coffee, but you couldn't even pour it into the mugs lined up, everyone switched them up. 

It was almost ritual like -- one would come to the mugs lined up on the countertop, pick the mug up turn it 15 degrees left, then right, then look at the bottom of the mug, only then would one hold it with both hands, and if it felt like the right fit for that day -- you were able to pour the coffee into the mug. I can not make this stuff up. 

In the last few years more and more tactile biofeedback giving elements of our lives are disappearing. From the click-click-click of the typing machine to a touch screen, from turning a key to operate a car to pushing a button. It's almost like we are losing the ability to feel what we are supposed to do, that we are unlearning our brain to be able to decipher nuance of touch, a very primal part of our being. Some will claim this is part of evolution that it's not as bad as I think it is. But to me any ability we use to read our environment that is lost, is a shame. Any person who suffers from arthritis will attest that loss of sensation is almost like a phantom pain. 

Our society is suffering from this ability to feel contact. Though there are many trends of ergonomic seating, stand up desks, and special handles, they are already being built with the mindset of losing touch, not retaining it. 

In her book Sensation - the new science of physical intelligence, author Thelma Lobel describes how these moments of physical contact with everyday things, like drinking warm coffee before entering an important job interview, or switching on a light switch can trigger different sensations and spark new ideas and feelings. 

I'm not against moving forward while we make easy tabs available for toy manufacturers, but just being mindful that we also need to be conscious of the "touch free" environments we sometimes crave and create and what it must be doing to our soul. 

Time for Some Retail Therapy

"If you could be any store in the world, what store would you be?"

It's the first questions I ask first time clients when I meet them. Sounds like a silly almost juvenile type of question, right? But the response to this question loads me with so much information about a person's personal design sensibilities. Just the word IKEA evokes immediate visual and sensory reaction from any person -- the light birch color, clean lines, smell of cinnamon baked goods, bright light. 

But in the past few years or so things have shifted, it takes a person longer to respond to that question without being cynical and saying "Amazon". But that too is very telling. Our time has become a valuable commodity and between the hussle of very full and active family lives, and increasingly harder to balance work schedule -- going out shopping is not much fun anymore, where is in the past it was considered therapy. To me it feels like going into a teenagers room wanting to pick up after them.

Yes the economy was hit hard and we are in the odd in-between years of trying to marry good UX online with somewhat of a decent similar experience in brick and mortar storefronts - hey even Amazon is opening one! There is value for people to go out and shop, bump into friends, walk around and engage in different environments, while they consume more useless products. We humans need to have a purpose and meaning even if it's a simple one of getting a bar of soap. Most of us don't have a nice park or open space around us, the streets and shopping plazas become these communal arenas. 

Yet we are greeted with visual cacophony, most of it following "design rules" that pre-date the immediate click-of-the-button-swipe-of the-fingerprint era -- Loud music, harsh smells, disorienting product placements, bright lights, low or no-inventory that can easily be found online, a tired salesperson, long lines to pay or return items. Most of these stores are run down, people who work there are annoyed and tired because of entitled "let's just scan this items" consumers. The whole shopping experience has been reduced to that moment of email confirmation of "your item is on it's way". 

It's no secret these retailers are struggling, closing down stores leaving gaping holes in shopping malls, street plazas, and city centers. Which in turn leave us with almost ghost like places. Retailers have yet to make the adjustment to this new world of shopping experience, it's almost like they are at a loss and have given up completely. Like all of us in these odd and fickle economic times they too need to rethink cost-per-sqft or ROI -- yet we humans are not only the sum of that. And our reaction to the lack of seeing us as human in need of contact, efficient, pleasant places to be and interact in is that of that going online. 

Smaller more humanly accessible stores, where one can see the end of it, where there is some inkling experience that makes us pause, smile and give us a meaningful break in our day will go a long way in improving retailer's bottom line and user experience. I want to go back in time to the feeling of excitement I had at the end of the 90's start of 2000's when I pounded the streets of downtown trying to find the next big WOW moment that was supplied by exciting store designs that even the biggest names in architecture at the time were not ashamed to be part of. 
We all lose when a layer of our needs is taken away, and another human factor is lost into the efficient sterile cyber zone. 

Something in the Way

Life gets in the way. It does. So many times I wish for a bubble to be able to think, or at least manage to put 2 and 2 together, without it becoming 5. 

But then again this bubble utopia I wish and long for does not truly exist, even if it did -- would it make it easier to work in this uninterrupted world? I find that in most cases though, as a tell my active 7y, silence is golden, it's sometimes (ok most times) paralyzing. That the "noise" generated by the things around me, hold in them the true grain of creativity. When I'm presented with a "blank" canvas space, where there is nothing to bounces off thoughts from, is when it really gets tricky. 

The challenge is, most commerical spaces are like that, blank, nothing bouncing off right at me. Which is hard, very hard to come up with a narrative or meaning, if you will, for these spaces. So how does one marry love, passion, and creativity into spaces that obviously need the most attention? It becomes a journey of looking into how to amplify some of the hidden "noises", create meaning.

The average American office interior spaces and their design are almost always neglected, and over the years they have been left at the hands of cost per SQFT demands, business cooperations, market trends, real estate forces, furniture manufacturers, and various management theories - but almost never at the hands of the end user - the "average" office worker.

In his book “The European office” Juriaan van Meel proclaims “Office buildings (...) are perhaps the most important building types of the 20th century… They dominate the contemporary city and accommodate more than half the working population in the Western world”.

That to me is mind blowing information - more than half of the working population in the Western world!!! Which on average spend 47 hours a week in these buildings, which is more hours spent sleeping a week, or almost three times more hours spent with immediate family. 

So whenever I walk into a blank space, I keep that piece of information in the back of my mind, because so much time spent in such neglected spaces affect not only the person using them, but society as a whole, it should get in the way, because life gets in the way. 

"Calling Elvis, is anybody home?"*

When was the last time you actually had a conversation with someone? Face to face, or on the phone? I don't seem to remember when this has happened to me last, but it seems that in the rush of life, we've stopped talking, and started communicating through text messaging of any kind, emoticons, and links to the latest TED Talk, but I miss listening to peoples voices. The warmth of the tone of voice is lost, which we try to make up for using silly emojis. 

Some may argue that with these communications tools the revival of the lost art of writing has come back, but has it? A few months ago I had the pleasure of listening to Israeli typographer Oded Ezer, at MassArt, in Boston. Ezer had provocatively stated that text is dead, and we are headed to a place where people will end up communicating with images, photos, and videos. I have to admit this kind of freaks me out. I love text, I use it to help me think, I use it in my design work. Text, is a powerful tool of communication, but so is the lost art of talking to each other, interrupting each other, yelling, and whispering a lovely good night. We lose the ability to be compassionate when we don't hear the tone of voice. 

In the past I have wrote about how the challenges of an open space concept in an office environment created this muted existence within the space. But the actual silence is misleading as there is a lot of online and virtual chatter. I'm not against online or virtual communication, I like using social media, and acknowledge its value (as I tell my 6 year old son, not everything needs to be said out loud). I just wonder what this does to the culture of a company, the casual "water cooler" conversation where people would physically move from their desks, and seek out other people to exchange some ideas, have real eye contact, measure and learn peoples expressions, and interact with the whole complex package of what we call human beings. Office spaces are losing these interaction spaces not only because of the price per SQFT, but also because they are not used as much. We need these interaction spaces, people forget to look up from the screen and just say hello.  

What does it do to our society as a whole, how much disconnect is created through these seemingly amazing tools of communications, how have we become these machine like responders to beeps and vibrations?
How our articulate kids are losing the ability to carry a non scripted conversation. 
I think we need to call Elvis... 

*Lyrics by Dire Straits

FFF

FFF. Form Follows Function. Every contemporary designer aspires to reach THAT moment of the (in)famous concept of clarity in design. The term is a simple way to describe a level of purity in design. A moment where all the ornaments are pealed back, and you are left with the bear minimum needed to sustain the function of the chair/building/kitchen. 

Alexa's beaming 'circle of death'

This weekend as we were putting our christmas tree up, we were joined by a new member to our technical family - Alexa; a wireless voice activated speaker. The joy in our household quickly fizzled as it was clear Alexa was all Function and no Fun, the ultimate electronic FFF. Unlike Apple's Siri, Alexa would not respond to silly questions my 6y boy had come up with, leaving him hanging with her blue round 'circle of death' (as my 10y calls it) beaming in front of his eyes. I'm no Siri fan, to be honest all these voice activated devices make me feel uneasy, but at lease she has some artificial intelligence sense of humor built into her. 

Looking deeper into pure functional form of things is a true design exercise. I'll be the first to admit that I too, am a purist, coffee will be coffee no hazelnut-vanilla flavor for me, and I admire clean modern lines in clothing, furniture, light fixtures, and spaces. Usually things that are made to function well, will be less wasteful and harmful to our environment. BUT then I find something is lacking. A human touch, a smile, a sprinkle of sparkle. 

As we brought in our christmas tree, our usually clean lined home, suddenly became friendlier. It smelt like pine, and by the time we were done decorating our spirits were happy and joyful. If ever there was an antithesis to FFF - it's christmas. It's not sustainable, no clean lines, no function what so ever, and full of ornaments. What a christmas tree lacks in function it makes up for in full blown spirit, a magical feeling that we can put last year and it's troubles to bed, that rejuvenation is on its way. Not functional, yet truly valuable for us as humans to feel. 

We should not want to live an a highly functional society that in many ways acts like Alexa. Just looking into the personalities that have brought the likes of Siri and Alexa to the world will allow us a window into the algorithms that rule our day to day searches, and more important - finds. They narrow our peripheral view of things in life, they eliminate exploring further in new ways. This is alarming because as much as I like clean lines, and functional spaces, I love having happy sloppy and messy mistakes that allow me to pause and smile, remind me that after all I am human that not only Functions but also Feels. 

Happy Medium

There is no bigger evil in the world of the over achieving, insta-go-getting, facebook high rollers, than the word m-e-d-i-u-m. It's this stuck in the middle, static, neither here nor there option in life. It's not the cream of the crop, or the lowest of the low. A mentality of 'I'd rather miserably fail than be defined as mediocre'. No wonder there is the known phenomena of the "mid-life crisis". There is no sex appeal in middle. 

The pink logo creates a surprise in a 

well balanced space 

Or is there? 

It seems that humans have developed this odd, almost counter intuitive knack, to push boundaries, which is completely against any natural instinct. Nature always wishes to balance, to reach equilibrium. We as humans want for some unknown reason to defy that force of nature. We sleep less than we need to, we eat more than we should, we work longer hours, and in general don't really take very good care of ourselves and our environments. 

As a designer I like to keep things off balance, surprise the user of the space. I'll use bold colors where you won't necessary expect them. I'll align certain things that will keep you on your toes. But it's a delicate process that can't be done on a whim. These mis-alignments can only be done right when you have a balanced and clear idea, and when there is a solid anchor you can play off of. Otherwise it creates clutter, uneasiness and in general a feeling things were not thought out properly. So there is, you see, a certain method to the design madness. 

That is why a Happy Medium is one of the most critical things in our daily lives, and is one
of the hardest things to come by. (Ask any GC trying to level floors inside old homes). We need the temperature of the HVAC to be almost exactly the same in our work environments. Lighting and its brightness need to be precise. The height of our kitchen countertops is meticulously measured. 

The seemingly cluttered and uneven photo alignment is 

made possible due the well balanced and centered table

& mirror. 

The length and height of stair risers. All of which are meticulous averages, which years of usage in the world have managed to come by. These "lowly" mediums are the anchors of our day to day life, the blocks from which we are allowed to soar to different places. In my view "Average" should be proclaimed as a new goal, a place we all should aspire to reach, a balance that redefines our center lines, and alignments. A Happy Medium. 

Mindful Act of Kindness

When my soon to be 10 year old girl was about 4, she was brushing her long golden hair. She looked up at me and asked 'why do I need to brush my hair each and every morning?' My response was 'because by doing so you respect yourself, and respect your friends and teachers'. 

I was never a fan of Feng Shui, or to be precise, its watered down western interpretation of it; Closing the toilet seat to prevent your money escaping your wallet, never have a staircase facing the front door, never put a chair with its back to the door - are some of the highlights I can off handedly suggest. 

But a few years ago I had this small epiphany of why it mattered in our world. Why habits like making sure you don't squeeze the toothpaste in the middle mattered, why making your bed every morning matters, why putting a fork and knife in the right order matters -why these seemingly mundane tedious, and routine things matter. They create order, they create balance, and for control freak megalomanic designers (hey we are paid to build 'worlds') are a code and key to understanding human interaction and behavior within different environments and spaces. 

These random daily routine acts are mindfully observed and broken down frame by frame to create a narrative for a space. These 'mindless' acts being thought of mindfully are the difference between getting furniture straight out of catalog, only to discover these don't make your house feel like a home. 

It's attention to details in ways that are not obvious to the user of the space, but they make the user feel good happy and safe. They make people feel like they are cared for, and not taken for granted, that even though you can't exactly pinpoint what it is that makes you feel connected, you know you are. That yes, even brushing your hair in the morning, matters. It's a small act of kindness to yourself signaling that you will also make sure to be kind to others. 

Design on the Run

The other night as I meticulously laid out my pre-race paraphernalia on the dinning room table, a familiar sensation hit me. It felt like the night before a final review or a big client presentation. 

A festive almost religious like rhythm and movement comes to mind. Picking out the right running clothes, the socks, the race number, the power gels, the good luck charms, uploading the right playlist. 

Until running my fourth big run, I never realized how much the design process and long distance running have in common. 

Pre-race layout

I always worked while listening to music, a beat to which I would carefully glue the model pieces in their right place, or hand draw the envisioned elevations. When I look at past work, I will always know which tune I was listening to at that time. Every race I go to I have a playlist ready for the rhythm needed for that part of the run, the warm up music will be different than the one for running up that very long hill. Design projects will have the same process of warming up (brainstorming, sketching, etc.), the long and tedious main course of the run (building, permits, fixing mistakes), and finally the dash to the finish line. 

Long distance running requires training and careful planning. Good design does too. I miss having that process followed to a T. The haphazard approach people have to the design process creates for a lot of contention and costly mistakes. It's almost akin to a 5K runner suddenly asked to run the Boston Marathon over night. The damage that can happen to the runner is clear. The same is true for the design process, there is a careful methodology to it, and when short cuts are made in that process, spaces seem incomplete or just don't look or feel right. 

The most successful, and rewarding projects I have been a part of, are the ones when I'm allowed in on the 'warm up' phase. From the point of helping decide which space will work better for a new office, and its growing team; to running up the hills of painful budget decision making, and exciting new spatial moments, which in my heart I know will make for the best working environment for that team. 

Office kitchen lounge in the making 

And like with running, going all the way up to the finish line, when every fiber of my being is dead-on focused on getting it done right and on time, (the counter top edges should be mitered, the layout of the flooring, and the thermostat should not be in the middle of the feature wall...) one foot after the other. 

Commit to Memory

9/11 memorial museum entrance 

I was sitting in the car, the english countryside zooming past my face, and all I thought about was - I must remember the colors, the angle of the sun hitting so perfectly, and the exhilarating wind tangling my hair, this moment will never return. I was 8 years old, we were on our annual visit to the UK to meet friends and family. It was not an unusual or spacial trip, but from that moment on in my life, I have this nagging persistence to commit it all to memory, before that moment might be gone. 

I don't know how to design for memory or loss, and that is why I find many memorial museums and memorial sites so intriguing. It's such an intricate balance between conveying a message that will reside in peoples hearts without making them feel rejected, or that the memory of a loved one has not been overlooked. It is even harder to imagine how to convey these messages of private sorrow and loss, when they are part of very public national or international events. 

I grew up in Israel, a country that is constantly morning the loss of young lives, and that is burdened by the incredible loss of its people during the holocaust. A place where every rock you dig up has the explosive potential of toppling any type of balance achieved. In Jerusalem I was surrounded by historical and contemporary memorials, from the Western Wall to Mt. Herzl Cemetery. One of the places I played the most when I was a kid, was the Jerusalem Forest at the foothills of the Mt. Herzl Cemetery adjacent to Yad Vashem, the holocaust memorial museum of Israel. It probably triggered a curiosity in me that still lingers on.

How does one design for memory? How does one pick out the right words to write, and figure out the font that will be used? Pick out the right lighting, color? Create the most inclusive narrative? Curate the right items to be displayed? Make a memorial stay relevant as time passes by? I'm not sure there is a right answer to such an intimate thing as creating a memory.  

Jerusalem Westren Wall

The most powerful memorials that stayed with me along the years were the ones that maintained a sophisticated simplicity. Sites such as the 9/11 memorial where the missing buildings footprints portray the enormity of the loss, the Vietnam war memorial that has managed to leave out the controversy of the war, the children's memorial at Yad Vshem where light is used as a powerful tool forever immortalizing the lost spirits of 1.5 million jewish children, the cemented hole with olive tree splinters at the buchenwald death camp. These are sites that resonated with me, allowed me to morn a loss without judgement, they were humbling sites that created true moments of reflection. These places are committed to my collective memory. 

One for the team!

Last week I happened to listen to a piece on the radio about the decline of team sports in America. As a mother of 3 kids, 2 of which are part of team sports, it got my attention. Aside from all the back and forth about costs, lack of interest of the kids, helicopter parenting, etc. It got me thinking that in fact there might be a greater issue at hand, something that I worry about. I fear that there is a 'flattening' of our society to what the Blue Man Group calls the 2 and 1/2 dimension.

 

As a society at this point I find we lack rigor and will to make that extra effort. Most of us will admit we do not wish to spend the effort or time driving kids to god forsaken places to get ice-time or pool time, it requires effort, planning ahead, and yes dealing with an uncomfortable option your kid may lose. We want things to be happy, crisp, clean and so very easy, which is kind of like flat coke. 

This lack of rigor, commitment and effort hold true in many fields nowadays, the one in particular I'm concerned about is the area of design. Things look very easy on HGTV and it's off shoots, places like communal painter spots which allow us all to be Picasso for a night, easy measuring apps, 9 minute pasta dishes, easy 1 click furniture shopping, you name it. We are all short for time and by way of that we forget to stop and dig deeper into things, investigate them a little, expand our knowledge, and do some of the 'dirty' redundant work that is required. 

About 6 years ago, the Tate Modern in London held a special exhibition to celebrate the 10th year anniversary of its building. I have an affinity to this building, and greatly admire the Swiss architects, Herzog De Meuron who designed it. So my disappointment when I saw the turbine hall exhibitors, was huge. Here there was a once in a life time opportunity to articulate a thoughtful artistic display, and what it ended up being was a sad display of our declining culture. The exhibitors themselves were busy on their phones/computers "connecting" via social media. They forgot to connect their display to the building or the viewers who came to experience it, it felt haphazard, and not very well put together. 

But why do these things rub me the wrong way so much? Is there a connection between the lack of rigor and discipline to poor design choices? Maybe yes, maybe no. What I do know though is that good design requires attention to details not only to plans, flashy 3D models, but also to people and their behavior, culture and language. Good design can be full of humor and thoughtful when there is an investment in liberal arts and history education, not just when it comes from a DIY kit. 

Design is a language and as one who is bilingual, and studied a third - I can earnestly say that is requires rigor, and hard work, skills that in essence can be learned while doing team sports. 

No Name *

Branding // 
(as noun branding) The promotion of a particular product or company by means of advertising and distinctive design. 
Seems like everywhere you turn around these days one is expected to brand themselves, their work place, their product, you name it. That elusive quality that will distinguish them ahead of the pack, any pack. Starts from your web site landing page, Facebook page, twitter account, tumbler feed - you name it, you'll need to brand it. Better yet tie it all into THE brand. 

But you see good branding is hard to achieve these days, it requires something most of us don't possess - patience. In this fast track world of FB, snap-chat, insta tumbling sound bites it seems that no one is free from creating their own brand. A "brand" represents quality, identity, a vision of sorts if you will. Maintaining ones brand has become such an important asset, because we live in such a fast paced #imoutofthegame world. This branding process so precisely captured in Ecclesiastes (7:1)  'A good name is better than precious ointment' . 

A good brand will be created over time. This is where it gets tricky, especially, in the world of start-up companies who are by definition are required to move in an almost counterintuitive way of branding - most are required to break/invent a mold while maintaining a facade of 'respectability' as they are accounted for the funding they have recently secured.

Now imagine what it is to design these spaces? Where the unknown needs to be translated into literally brick and mortar. Where there is no clear brand or identity, yet the one thing that is expected, aside from keeping it all within a tight budget, is creating a space that will represent the company and the brand it hopes to stand for. It's a huge privilege and responsibility to be part of that process.

*No Name brand