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V I S I T A T I O N
I’ve learned, over time — with hornets and other winged insects that they look for and follow the Light. Trap one in a room with windows and they will track the sun and continue to beat against the glass, trying to get to the Light.
There’s a lesson there, surely.
Even though the Light might seem like it’s just there, you might have to find another route, less so, the obvious.
To get them out, I literally “blow” them along the glass, exhaling and “whispering” them along — their beating — to the next window, then out the open glass.
Not so the hummingbird — who, visiting me, panicked against the glass, till falling, exhausted on the glass windowed footing of the island studio.
Raise your finger, a small twig to a bird’s breast and they will grasp it with their talons — once they overcome the fear of your “scale” and out-of-proportion movement.
Size does matter.
This hummingbird was tired enough that finally, I picked her up — in a meditative celebration of the fabulous design of such small miracles — the wonder of small things, I could feel her tiny heart beating.
Finally, I carried her out — and away she went.
Off into the Light.
The delicacy of
is a truly marvel-making
wonderment — “how small, how beautiful, how is it possible?”
A gift for the experiencer.
Onwards, to the Light of these answers.
Tim | GIRVIN | Decatur Island Studios
CROWD MIND | EXPERIENCE DESIGN | MEMORY STRATEGY
Time ticks as you walk in the dark, emerging or failing light — and you realize that your true reliable momentum measure is the sound of your heels — moment to moment: pavement, gravel, pea, grass, chipped woods, snow and ice. Each, a rhythm, a story.
Here now, hear now — [are you] what passes by? You are into the mist, and, this deed, in deed — you are in the midst.
As I measure out the spin, the stride of next steps, new movements, the beauty of what could be found in that new curve [up the road, that I can’t quite see, I realize there must be, shall be — some uncertainty in the clinging fog of mystery. Something is there, just up the road — but what calls, good — or bad?
For me, it’s always the good, the striking beauty of what we have, or are, experiencing [that, a blessing unto itself] — simply, at the opening distant sighting you can’t quite see; it will reveal itself.
You’re either looking for the good, in what might come forth — future bringing; or you are looking for something else, the contrary. Look for something — that path, that corridor, that boulevard, of and to, light.
Look down that corridor — that there is light, something showing you the way — is the beginning intimation of secret, wisdom, love, celebration, sharing, learning, wonderment.
If it was all black and lightless, you’d be forced to fumble and “feel your way” — and who knows where, and how, that might lead you.
With the light of your listening, and the character of the emerging journey — you hear things, know things in a new manner, sense new possibilities because you’ve come further. And coming further, you can go further — that being the most important to any adventurer.
This, of course, applies to everything.
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G I R V I N | THE MESSAGE IS THE VOICE
DESIGNED TEXTUAL CONTENT: THE BREATH OF SOULBRAND
Tim Girvin | founder + principal
mobile direct. 206.890.0621
teams: New York City + Seattle | Tokyo
Decades later, I still watch them, count them out — the roadside, waterside running —
point out the red-tailed hawks, the bald eagles, the peregrines and osprey.
There’s nothing on earthly experience quite like getting close to one of these birds — and in the poetry of studying them, leaning in — you might know that one path to get close to the big birds is Falconry. When I was first exploring the “art” of Falconry, as a teenager, it was defined as “the sport of kings.” I couldn’t imagine that there were communities in the Pacific Northwest. But there are, still running. Given the character of the birds, there are State restrictions and protections, as well. The real tradition, hunting with, training Falcons as literal “life partner birds,” is perhaps more than 4,000 years old, a global tradition — every falconer starts as a falconer’s apprentice
That is where I began, in Spokane.
The training, in working with the big birds, requires a bonding of absolute trust — between the falconer and the bird. Trust happens in working with a bird that’s a chick or a fledgling. You can never start a relationship with a grown bird. What that means, and what limited my time with “a” big bird, was the living in, having the bird in the house, in close proximity, that means living with the bird — as a baby chick, then growing up with the bird; letting it grow up with you. Smelling you, being around your movements and sounds, you share that early life. Interestingly, my Mom and Dad weren’t too keen into that idea — bringing a bird in, like that. It’s pretty committed relationship and household-altering positioning.
With a warm barn room, a wood stove, it’s possible; but a big bird isn’t easy. Newspaper in a cage isn’t an option — raptors stand on a grip, with talons as sharp as awls — a beak like a polished steel hook. Instead, I was an apprentice, a carrier — a handler.
Looking into the eyes of a raptor — eye to eye, only inches from your face, is an unforgettable experience.
The idea of seeing — deeply, precisely, close and far, newer levels of attention that are almost impossibly imaginable, animal focus — is wholly changed in being with, close by, the raptors. Because this is how, and what, they see. Indeed — rapt attention — the rapture, the capture of wholly engaged attention is a profoundly powerful revelation. Something we’ve noted in other blogs.
My mother forwarded this story, of another captivated by the spirit of the “big bird.”
“A true story: http://www.snopes.com/photos/animals/freedom.asp
And the story | Freedom + Jeff.
Life changing encounters with Raptors
Freedom and Jeff
“Freedom and I have been together 11 years this summer.
She came in as a baby in 1998 with two broken
wings. Her left wing doesn’t open all the way
even after surgery, it was broken in 4
places. She’s my baby.
When Freedom came in she could not stand
and both wings were broken. She was
emaciated and covered in lice. We made the
decision to give her a chance at life, so I took
her to the vets office. From then
on, I was always around her. We had her in a
huge dog carrier with the top off, and it
was loaded up with shredded newspaper for her to
lay in. I used to sit and talk to her,
urging her to live, to fight; and she would lay
there looking at me with those big brown eyes.
We also had to tube feed her for weeks.
This went on for 4-6 weeks, and by then she still
couldn’t stand. It got to the point where the
decision was made to euthanize her if she
couldn’t stand in a week. You know you don’t
want to cross that line between torture and
rehab, and it looked like death was
winning. She was going to be put
down that Friday, and I was supposed to come in
on that Thursday afternoon. I didn’t want to go
to the center that Thursday, because I couldn’t
bear the thought of her being euthanized;
but I went anyway, and when I walked in everyone
was grinning from ear to ear. I went
immediately back to her cage; and there she was,
standing on her own, a big beautiful
eagle. She was ready to live. I was
just about in tears by then. That
was a very good day.
We knew she could never fly, so the director
asked me to glove train her. I got her used to
the glove, and then to jesses, and we
started doing education programs for schools in
We wound up in the newspapers,
radio (believe it or not) and some
TV. Miracle Pets even did a show
In the spring of 2000, I was diagnosed with
non-Hodgkins lymphoma. I had stage 3,
which is not good (one major organ plus
everywhere), so I wound up doing 8 months of
chemo. Lost the hair – the whole
bit. I missed a lot of work. When I
felt good enough, I would go to Sarvey
and take Freedom out for walks. Freedom would
also come to me in my dreams and help me fight
the cancer. This happened time and time again.
Fast forward to November 2000, the day after
Thanksgiving. I went in for my last
checkup. I was told that if the cancer was not
all gone after 8 rounds of chemo, then my last
option was a stem cell transplant. Anyway, they
did the tests; and I had to come back Monday for
the results. I went in Monday, and I was
told that all the cancer was gone.
So the first thing I did was get up to Sarvey and
take the big girl out for a walk. It was misty
and cold. I went to her flight and jessed her
up, and we went out front to the top of the
hill. I hadn’t said a word to
Freedom, but somehow she knew. She looked at me
and wrapped both her wings around me to where I
could feel them pressing in on my back
(I was engulfed in eagle wings), and she
touched my nose with her beak and stared into my
eyes, and we just stood there like that
for I don’t know how long. That was a
magic moment. We have been soul mates ever
since she came in. This is a very special bird.
On a side note: I have had people who
were sick come up to us when we are out, and
Freedom has some kind of hold on
them. I once had a guy who was
terminal come up to us and I let him hold
her. His knees just about buckled and he
swore he could feel her power course through his
body. I have so many stories like that.
I never forget the honor I have of being so close
to such a magnificent spirit as
Being close to big birds creates a link to an ancient legacy — being linked to them, manifests a deep and compelling line of wisdom, one that reaches back thousands of years, where the rapture of the hunt for food, creates a powerful attachment between beings. Others explore the ancient hunting alliance between birds, animals and human kind.
TSG | THE PIKE PLACE MARKET OFFICE OF GIRVIN
G I R V I N | THE MESSAGE IS THE VOICE
DESIGNED TEXTUAL CONTENT: THE BREATH OF SOULBRAND
Sometimes the best path
Is the slow and watchful.
Sometimes in the planning of strategy, for your life, brands and other enterprises, striking out the mapping of the path — moving forward: slow down and study the surroundings as you move forward.
Pay close attention to the movement, by: market landscape changes as you move. And the strategy should be a feeling watchfulness.
Driving, the country roads of old Kauai, I found this old, weather-beaten sign board (“SLOW“). Watching it, studying the character of the sign, the lettering, (“TRY SLOW”) I almost drove off the road, down the hillside.
Looking at the road, I’d missed the point — the wisest map of route might be simply paying closer attention to the movement itself. Go forward and watch, embrace what happens in the stride itself — which is you.
The brand is at the center — you, walking forward — look out, your own sentinel, looking out, surveilling the evolutions of what is happening in the grace of transition.
Sometimes, working on maps and planning — one month, two — a year, there is no accounting, no reckoning, of landscape. Just barreling. Go slow, you see more.
Visioning evolves. The stride is tuned, keep moving.
Like the classical navigator, shifts in weather and surging tides will prevent staying on the planned route. Move on.
Till the end, which might be just the beginning of the next routing.
Go: instinctive — watchful feelingness.
Discoveries will emerge in your sentience.
Crowdweaving innovation >
ideation, charrettes + brand events
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THE GREEN MAN OF LIGHT |
A SHAPE-SHIFTING WANDERER
I was seeing this, dreaming this, drawing this.
IN THE WOODS,
I WAS CONTEMPLATING THE GREEN LIGHT
BUT IN THE GREEN LIGHT —
THERE WAS A WARM LIGHT,
a SUNNIER LIGHT — COMING THROUGH.
I draw on, and through that light, what I see.
A LIGHT MAN, THE WAFTING MIRAGE OF LIGHT, MAN.
L I G H T W A N D E R E R
DEEP IN THE FOREST,
WHEN THERE IS WATER NEAR,
the light of the forest mixes with the light of the water and the reflecting Sun,
a refracting waver happens — like slipping, and drifting rhythm — and luminous people come through — light walkers, flickering, wavering light bearers. FIGURES THAT WARY LIKE WAVES,
FLICKERING AND WAVERING IN THE LIGHT,
AS THE LIGHT BURSTS INTO MY SEEING.
T H E C E I L I N G P A T T E R N I N G
AS I LOOK UP, THE CEILING —
THE OLD WOODS,
POLISHED AND LONG RUBBED BY TIME, SALTED MIST AND THE RAIN BLOWN IN SHEETS, FAR INTO THE light room, THE STUDIO’S LONG HOUSE
THE LIGHT MOVES ON THE CEILING LIKE THE SQUABBLING OF GULLS AND DOVES, THE LIT WINGS, LIGHT-TOUCHED FOLDS OF LUMINOUS DRAPERY FOLDING IN, OUT AND OVER EACH OTHER.
TO THE ETYMOLOGY OF THE GREEN MAN —
THE ARCHETYPE —
FROM YOUR FRIENDS AT THE OED, BELOW:
TSG | the island studio
G I R V I N | SOCIALITY + MEDIATION
DESIGNING BRAND STORYTELLING IN HYBRID MEDIA
green man, n.
Pronunciation: Brit. /gri?n ?man/, U.S. /?grin ?mæn/
Forms: see green adj. and n.1 and man n.1
Etymology: < green adj. + man n.1 With sense 2 compare green adj. 8c.
a. In outdoor shows, pageants, masques, etc.: a man dressed in greenery, representing a wild man of the woods or seasonal fertility. Cf. Jack-in-the-green n. Now hist.
Quots. a1716 and 1931 refer to the tavern sign of ‘The Green Man and Still’.N.E.D. (1900) comments that the sign ‘seems to have been suggested by the arms of the Distillers’ Company, the supporters of which are two Indians. The sign-painters represented the Indian by a ‘Green man’ (in this sense) and this figure was afterwards replaced by that of a man clothed in green, a forester, often Robin Hood.’ (See ‘J. Larwood’J. C. Hotten Hist. Signboards (1866) 148.)
1578 G. Whetstone Promos & Cassandra ii. i. vi, sig. Hi. (stage direct.) Phallax, Two men, apparrelled, lyke greene men at the Mayors feast, with clubbes of fyre worke.
1594 R. Wilson Coblers Prophesie sig. C1v, Comes there a Pageant by, Ile stand out of the greene mens way for burning my vestment.
1600 T. Nash Summers Last Will & Test. sig. B2v, The rest of the greene men haue reasonable voyces, good to sing catches.
1654 E. Gayton Pleasant Notes Don Quixot i. vi. 19 The strange Feasts of the Greenmen, Whiflers, Marshals, and his Ministers.
1687 M. Taubman London’s Triumph 7 Green-men, Swabs, Satyrs, and Attendants innumerable.
a1716 Bagford in ‘J. Larwood’ & J. C. Hotten Hist. Signboards (1866) x. 367 They are called woudmen or wildmen, thou’ at thes day we in ye signe call them Green Men, couered with grene boues.
1728 J. Smedley Gulliveriana 33 My Greenmen all, with Main and Might, Espouse Myself and Cause, And say, that all propos’d is right, By ancient Forest-Laws.
1801 J. Strutt Glig-gamena Angel-ðeod iv. iii. 282 The actors?were called monstrous wilde men; others were frequently distinguished by the appellation of green men; and both of them were men whimsically attired and disguised with droll masks [etc.].
1837 N. Hawthorne Twice-told Tales 81 Up with your nimble spirits, ye morrice-dancers, green-men, and glee-maidens, bears and wolves, and horned gentlemen!
1851 Gentleman’s Mag. Feb. 154/2 In 1681 a company of 20 Green Men preceded the principal pageant.
1931 Rotarian July 5/2 ‘The Green Man’ remains, twenty generations after he came to his end, as a mute testimony to England’s love of its traditional robber chief.
2006 Church Times 29 Dec. 24/1 The winter manifestation of the Green Man?will emerge from a boat on the River Thames.
b. A supernatural being connected with nature and fertility, and often viewed as a personification of the woodland or forest.
1907 G. Massey Anc. Egypt I. iii. 143 The spirit in green (vegetation) remains the ‘green man’ as wood spirit in Europe.
1943 Jrnl. Eng. & Germanic Philol. 42 180 Chambers was naturally misled by the greenness of Bercilak into taking him for a ‘green man’, a vegetation spirit of the Mannhardt school.
1996 St. Louis(Missouri)Post-Dispatch 8 Feb. 9 Other backyard guardians include the Greek god Pan and the ancient pagan figure known as the ‘green man’.
2001 Folklore 112 220 The Green Man?was an invention, but a necessary one for a modern society which felt itself out of touch with nature.
c. A representation of a man’s face composed of, surrounded by, or sprouting foliage or branches, esp. used as an architectural ornament. Cf. foliate head n. atfoliate adj. Additions.
Such images have been interpreted variously as depicting the figure of sense 1aor the nature spirit of sense 1b.
[1932 Folklore 43 360 There is also a couple of corbels carved with a face—in the mouth is a sprig of foliage on each side, moustache like. It is thought to be a ‘green man’.]
1939 Lady Raglan in Folklore 50 47 Seward, who has made a special study of the chapter-house at Southwell, where there is a number of ‘Green Men’, has found a great variety of foliage there.
1959 Times 7 Nov. 9 A famous pulpit?sharply and dramatically carved with angel, eagle,?and the sad heads of two Green Men with stems growing from their mouths and opening into stylized foliage.
1980 S. Heaney Preoccupations (1984) 186 The old religion kept budding out on the roofs of cathedrals all over Europe, in the shape of those roof-bosses which art historians call ‘green men’ or ‘foliate heads’, human faces growing out of and into leaves and acorns and branches.
2004 A. Derman Green Man in N.Y. City 9 The Green Man, as an architectural ornament on late 19th Century New York City buildings is not formulaic in the sense of being reproduced the same way time after time.
2. A raw recruit or inexperienced man; spec. (in fishing and whaling) a man who has not been to sea before. Cf. green hand n. at green adj. and n.1 Special uses 4a, and greenhorn n.Now hist.
1635 L. Fox North-West Fox sig. Av, Captaine Davis was?supplyed awayes (after some yeares of breathing) by Greene men, or those who (in that time) had forgot their experience.
1682 J. Collins Salt & Fishery 99 The third of the Men that go a Fishing being Green-Men, that never were at Sea before.
1699 Act 10 Will. III c. 25 §10 Every Master of any Fishing Ship going to Newfoundland?shall have in his Ship’s Company every fifth Man a Green-man (that is to say) not a Seaman, or having been ever at Sea before.
1708 Royal Proclam. 26 June in London Gaz. No. 4452/2, The Masters of Fishing-Ships?do neglect to produce Certificates of their Compliments of Green Men or Fresh Men.
1786 Act 26 Geo. III c. 26 It shall and may be lawful for the Hirer or Employer of any such Green Men engaged in the said Fishery, to advance to any such Green Man, during the Time he shall be in his Service, a Sum not exceeding Five Pounds.
1828 E. Bulwer-Lytton Pelham (ed. 2) III. xvi. 262 Dawson?spoke?words that made the hairs of our green men stand on end. ‘We must not suffer this,’ said Thornton?‘his ravings and humdurgeon will unman all our youngsters.’
1867 W. H. Smyth Sailor’s Word-bk., Green-men, the five supernumerary sea~men who had not been before in the Arctic Seas, whom vessels in the whale-fishery were obliged to bear, to get the tonnage bounty.
1890 Fourth Biennial Rep. Dept. Labor Statist. (State of Calif.) iii. i. 116 If they sent us a green man and we discharged him, we had no guarantee that another green man would not be sent in his place. Green men cause us a good deal of trouble, sometimes, to break them in.
1929 F. C. Bowen Sea Slang 100 Paddy Wester,?a notorious boarding-house keeper in Liverpool who shipped thousands of green men as A.B.’s for a consideration.
1940 Railroad Mag. Apr. 67/2 He grunted in a peculiar way and muttered something about the fools in the office sending a green man to such a run as this.
2004 P. E. Pope Fish into Wine v. 173 The annual recruitment and training of green men, or ‘youngsters’, served the whole [fishing] industry?as an informal apprenticeship mechanism.
3. = man orchid n. Cf. green man orchis n. Now rare.
1828 Gardener’s Mag. 1 465 In April, I remove?, from their native habitation, the following interesting and peculiarly elegant species,—?Aceras anthropophora (green man), [etc.].
1887 Cornhill Mag. Aug. 153 Four kinds of pinks grow on the dolomitic rocks, and many an orchis—among them the curious green man.
1929 E. J. Thompson Crusader’s Coast i. 97 In the needle-strewn turf of the Lebanon pinewoods, orchises are blooming, the dwarf bee-orchis and the green man most abundantly.
4. orig. and chiefly Brit. The symbol of a walking figure illuminated in green on the traffic light at a pedestrian crossing, indicating that it is safe for pedestrians to cross with care.
1968 Times 26 July 2/4 The flashing ‘green man’ appeared to give the pedestrians the impression that they had an unduly short time in which to cross.
1991 Sydney Morning Herald (Nexis) 19 Sept. 5 Day and night, heavy traffic roars through the intersection of five roads as pedestrians wait for the green man before crossing.
2005 D. Daley–Clarke Lazy Eye 40 She was crossing to our side of the road, even though the green man wasn’t flashing.
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the roots of making, by hand – Apple computer
image above, tweet from HuffPst.
In the beginnings, at Apple 70s, working for Steve, his driving curiosity was always about how to take the hand, into the computer – and mix/improve the outcomes – for something digital, yet hand-wrought – much of the early G|Appleworks rotated around the notion of cursor, hand, screen, mouse – how to mix them, to magic.
Reminded me of this revelation, day before yesterday – speaking of hand-wrought, and now color-washed. This idea – the watercolored wash – logo is said to be about 30 years old, the 80s – to my recollection, color washed design treatments popped even more recently – like 5 years back…
next up, a script logo for Apple?
Been there, done that.
trend back, time – trend forward: future.
Our sense of trend, technology? That the touch of the hand means something, to human connection.
The real cue is the bridge between the hand – the unexpected push between, the old craft, the newly visualized:
the pulse of flowed watercolour pigment molecules and pixels. Touch, me. Please.
Yes, I will, touch you.
TSG | The old Queen Anne Studio | QA Middle School Building
GIRVIN | MEDITATIONS ON
THE LEGACY OF STEVE JOBS & APPLE
DESIGNING IMAGINATION : AND THE TOOLS TO MAKE IT HAPPEN
Which way are you listing?
Vince — good question last night, listening into our meeting; “how does a meeting with people that you’ve never met becomes a familial love / hug fest?”
Silence — and observative, feelingness –– listening. The way that you hear is by being quiet and watching the person that you’re paying attention to. And connecting with them. Bringing them into yourself. You’re holding them. That hug starts at the beginning.
Someone just said —
“I will give you my full attention.”
Really, what’s that mean?
That’s hard, since it means being wholly present — and attached to the person, listener to actor — appreciately, intuitively and empathically — it’s about holding; I’ve seen it only rarely in another. It is a presence of astonishing serenity — it is a calming listening that is profoundly quieting. Or disquieting.
Have you had someone listen to you in a way that is nearly “disquieting?”
It’s probably because it is uncommon. And unfamiliar.
Watching a person wholly, to see WHAT THEY’RE DOING with their body — the hands, the arms, the legs, the faces — and feeling the what, and the why, they’re feeling.
that will be appreciative listening. feelingness. Empathic entanglement.
e m b r a c e m e n t . . .
Bodies, faces, tell us a lot — about connection or disconnection. What that means is “the lean.” Or — “the list.” Where are you, or they, leaning – towards you, or away. Leaning in, leaning out — leaning forward, leaning back.
The brand could be about listening, as well — leaning in, leaning out. Holding, or not holding — is there something to be, or could be, carried away, onwards — outwards?
Someone said — “for me, this brand is something for me — really, just for me. That’s what I’m thinking about — how this is: for me”
Did you know that listening links to “list?” Lean in, get closer, empathize:
“tilt, lean,” especially of a ship, 1880, earlier (1626) lust, of unknown origin, perhaps an unexplained spelling variant of M.E. lysten “to please, desire, wish, like” (see listless) with a sense development on the notion of “leaning” toward what one desires (cf. incline).
It’s your language, it’s the listening language — of the empath, or the appreciative listener. The appreciative sensor.
Intrigued, list in, dispelled, leaning out?
Thinking about the iconography of place, what’s made in it. What are the talismans of your place?
A person stopped by my condominium, asking to borrow a can opener.
Peering into my place, she said — “are you moving?” As I looked back, there were piles of books, clothes, luggage, presentation tubes, folders and project envelopes (and lots of power cords). And I realized, in 2011, that if I wasn’t going somewhere one day, I probably would shortly thereafter — so I was always leaving my luggage out, partially filled with clothing and stuff that I’d likely have, to wear, the next trip.
Like the one that I’m on.
And what I’m wearing.
One trip, another.
I realized that being there — one thing that I hadn’t really done much of, was re-organizing and cleaning up. I was always in transit — the thing that I attended to, more than anything, was to care for was the orchids. They last and last — telling their story as I return home, after another sojourn. I keep them in one place, that’s relatively dark and prone to the possibility of misted moisture — they survive the longest, flowering there, in that place. Where the shower is — they thrive.
My places are two fold [one, the image above] — and both are more to studios than conventional living places — books ascend in towering colums; they lean in stacked arrays, there are altars of talismans, artifacts and mementos from travels to sacred points around the world; there are vast collections of perfumes; small prints of crows, of paintings from Mughal India, Russian icons, boxed insects, cricket cages from China, old signage from Japan, masks and puppets from Bali, old posters, Javanese keris knives range the wall, statues and amulets from Tibet, Bhutan, Mongolia, collections of old log books, manuscripts and sacred nomadic Tibetan and Sanskrit texts lie stacked in dark and quiet places. Skulls loom out from Mexico — grinning. There are stones piled in cairns, on the carpet.
These are the same in both studios — the island studio, the old schoolhouse in Queen Anne. Light dominates. Still, these are confusing working places — there are dozens of things that fill out the places. To that end, it looks like I might be moving.
Organization, one day. But the nature of creative involvement presumes chaos — that work can’t be organized.
But being organized might have another value.
That reminded me — of the hidden work.
Household Work Is a Large Hidden Part of GDP
In Europe, unpaid family domestic work and child care, most of it performed by women, has a value that amounts to between 17% and 32% of the region’s GDP, according to a team led by Gianna C. Giannelli of the University of Florence. As a result of their household labor, European women work an average of 460 minutes per day, compared with 424 minutes for men.
Source: GDP and the value of family caretaking: how much does
TIM | white plains, NY
When you’re looking at something, how closely are you tuned?
I was watching people watch. This is a habit.
That is, studying people as they “study” — watching to see how people are paying attention. This couldn’t be any more in-depth or capable interpretation of the ongoing analysis of watchful friend, Linda Stone, and her studies of “attention.”
But it’s more to an inherent curiosity that I’ve got about people and how they see things, and what they do when they see them. How they do, or do not, pay attention. With people that I work with, clients, those that I observe on the subway, walking the street, studying their eyes, for what they see, and what they do not.
That lead me to think about context in connection — how people sense things in relationship to design. Sitting through hundreds of hours of focus sessions — or dozens of anthropological visits, you begin to get a sense of what to “look for.” The whole body is a sensing organ — watching the eyes is one channel of consideration; but what about everything else. What are the degrees of engagement, alertness, fascination, deep gaze, dream sight, disconnected focus, continuous sight? Working on launch programs — building a story, a product, a place — and watching it go live, linking into the observation of visitors, guests, audience — I ponder the question: who’s synced into the “real time” of the moment — and who is just “passing by”?
When you really get into watching people watching people [or things], you begin to study how other creatures examine. Spiders, for example — try getting close enough to a spider that you can track the movements of that body, sensing yours. Dragonflies. Lizards. Hummingbirds. How deep, the dog’s study? The cat? But being a student of raptors, corvids and other larger intelligent birds, I cast my gaze there.
Pondering the focused link, the attention of one engaged, what would be the most powerful visible parable? One, to note, the owl. Get close enough to watch a raptor watch — and you realize there are layers to seeing in to things. The attached imagery is incredible to watch — the liquidity, the fluency, the grace. http://www.dogwork.com/owfo8 But more so, the focus.
And the design, of how it works…Owl coming in — from one hundred feet, one thousand frames a second — for the strike right at the camera, only a minute long. The head, the gaze never moves — and the last two or three seconds are amazing, watching the feathers ruffle and the wings swell. This is taken at 1000 frames per second.
The idea of looking, a metaphor of seeing — when you look at something, how far do you look in? Looking out, is looking in — even etymologically, to look is the modern turn on an old, perhaps first millennium expression of a German dialect, lugen “to look out.”
In my earlier days as a falconer’s “valet,” I recall looking into the eyes of the raptors that I hand-roosted (and that’s all that I was entitled to do — being a carrier of these birds. They looked out, through me, to the far lands, and to the mammals that scurried in the grass fields beyond where I stood, holding them.
Look out. Look in. Look beyond.
tsg | NYC
G I R V I N | INNOVATION WORKSHOPS
CREATING STRATEGIES, PRODUCTS, IDEAS FOR CHANGE.
I was thinking about the right ideas, that come from the tumble of those that try, but fail. Those that stumble, and find. These that jumble and arrive at the new.
There is tumble, stumble, jumble — and topple.
Long back, working with a team of scientists, they’d offered that the ideas come when teams of investigators are continuing rattling and railing at the same challenge — yet, perhaps, they’re coming at that challenge in the same forum, over and over. There’s something right there, but it needs to be pushed over the top.
Then there’s one, or a series of minds, that somehow pop past the challenge or evolve and tinker against the notion of disrupted solution finding to another tier, another plateau of evolution. That evolution becomes something else.
In the patterning of the work that you’re doing, you might find a thread that relates to how you’re moving through the plaited knotwork of being. There are threads — but, like the knots [the complications] of challenge, they will entangle and flip the movements; sights and insights are tumbled. The wrong string, crossed, wire tripped, balancing thread lost — and you [or your team, your enterprise, your brand] are stumbling, tumbled — toppled.
First, it’s right to recognize the thread of being in the who that you are — pardon the personal allegory — but these questions might be asked in a far bigger way to the nature of brand. That threading is the string of the patterning of what’s important and what will be held by you, your team, others that embrace the challenges that you face and the solutions that you offer.
But the journey of the knot-tied, the string laid, the stumble of the tumble, the staggered jumble — there are two things to contemplate.
It’s in the railing towards the solution that the knot work — the tumbling and un-stumbling that will be the making of the next stride — moving into the new day, the new year — it will be about the stumble, the tumble, the surprised jumble. A good start is a tumble.
In the tumble, there’s something about being turned upside down, jumbled in the new seeing, that allows for one to perceive answers in a new way. Ever answer is a question turned upside down — it’s a jumble of the query.
It’s worth mentioning, in the beginning of anything, that the word start comes from an aligned etymology — to “fall.”
(s)Tumble, to the new — 2012.
TSG | PALM DESERT, CA
G I R V I N | INNOVATION WORKSHOPS
CREATING STRATEGIES, PRODUCTS, IDEAS FOR CHANGE.