Uncertainty

Once again, I find myself staring at a blank page. I always have so many ideas when it’s not time to write, I make lists and plan things out in my head. But then the time comes, I sit down in front of my computer and….nothing comes out. I feel uninspired, so I start to wander. I don’t want to write something that seems forced, I don’t want to have to squeeze out something just so I can say that I did. I don’t want to have to find something from so far away it ends up being gibberish. 

I look at a blank page with a few bullet points hastily typed on. Ideas and thoughts I have compiled over the weeks, haphazardly. Unfortunately, the ideas just don’t seem to connect. 

So as I sit in front of this list, trying to make sense of it, I write what comes to mind. I write because, as I have said, it is all I really know how to do. I write and I write in the hopes that some sort of coherent thought comes out, although, I know deep down, it probably won’t. At least to you it won’t. 

But maybe you have experienced this too? Maybe you, too, have sat or stood in front of something that was meant to fuel your passion, but suddenly felt no inspiration to do it? The motivation might have been there - kept alive by a strong sense of conviction that sits deeply inside you - but the fire, the energy, the passion to actually do the work, waned. You may have felt capable, still, of executing the action, but it would not have been the same as living through it. The former is mechanical, automatic; the latter is emotional, dynamic. Sometimes, I feel alone in this experience, but then I remember that I am not because we are all human. That is one thing we have in common, and no one can change that. 

Perhaps these lingering moments, these moments of delay need not be so stunting. Perhaps they can be just as fruitful as those other more passionate moments. Perhaps they are even necessary. It is my understanding that humans need balance, in every aspect of life, even in those areas that are painted as being free from struggle, pain, or effort. Those areas we commonly call passions. For I am almost certain that most people will tell you that they have had to fight through difficult moments even for their passion or life’s work. Just because you love something doesn’t you can’t, at times, hate it too. 

Considering I began writing this with no specific theme or plan in mind, it is natural that I end that way too. Awkwardly, I try to wrestle myself free from this metaphoric pen (I am, indeed, slapping my fingers on a keyboard), but I strain. I somehow, for some reason, keep typing, most likely because I like to. It feels good, once you get going. The feeling of translating these errant floating ideas into concrete, fixed words. The thought of actually letting go of thoughts, inevitably leading to another thought. It’s fun, isn’t it? At least to me it is. 

But alas, I must go. My will to write is overcome by my penchant for perfection. 

I’ll leave you with this quote that has absolutely no relation to what I just wrote about, but I have had it bookmarked for almost a month now, and I don’t know what to do with it. It kept staring at me everytime I looked at it. I tried to stare right back, but instead kept feeling a slight uneasiness wash over me, perhaps because of the weight of its meaning. I’ll let you tell me whether or not it is relevant today. I think I know the answer. Do you?

"History is the hammer. You are the nail."

Quote pulled from the poem “Reciprocity is a Two-Way Street” by Momtaza Mehri

The Future of Living?

I recently came across a project by a design studio named Framlab that presented a new paradigm for urban housing. OpenHouse, as it is titled, aims to “investigate the capacity of residential environments to alleviate loneliness and social isolation. The project approaches urban housing design through the lens of environmental psychology and cognitive neuroscience, exploring parameters of geometry, ecology, and modularity as means to forge connections and build trust among residents.” I was immediately enthralled by this project. A housing project that not only answers practical needs but aspires to holistically support our societal and individual well being? Sign me up. 

But one question has been running through my mind. Is this actually possible? Will this actually come to life? 

I have seen many project proposals like the one described above in recent years - projects that offer a new language for living, that rethink not just what we live in, but how we live in it. In other words, that attempt to redefine the actual experience of living. But many of them don’t get realized and remain mere proposals. Lack of funding, political and social disagreement between the actors involved, and overall lack of effort may be to blame. Oh and that thing we call capitalism too. It continues to be the driving force behind powerful decision-makers, including those that design our built environment. 

It seems odd, also, that in the era of covid-19, we are innovating in such a way as to promote physical interaction and socialization in habitually private spaces - what with the “health” and “safety” concerns. It seems even more improbable considering the current socio-political climate we live in. We have become so sensitive and fragile as individuals that it translates into immediate pushback for single mistakes (re: cancel culture), to extremism and tribalism, to refusal to engage with let alone acknowledge differences. We are so divided that it seems impossible that we will ever come together under one roof. Literally. 

BUT, all of this does not mean that these projects are impossible to bring to life, or that we should brush them away. As you know, I am a firm believer that design has the ability to course-correct the negative path we set ourselves on - in terms of systemic and wide reaching issues. So I believe in these types of projects and I wholeheartedly support their creation. It excites me every time I see or read about something like OpenHouse. Yes, people who care about each other, I think. And that makes me smile. 

When you think about the idea of co-living - which is often what these urban housing projects are based on - you may feel skepticism. You may imagine poorly maintained, ill-designed spaces that feel uninviting and sometimes even dangerous. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Co-living seems to me like the future of urban housing, however corny that sounds. It is a model that can enable beneficial social connection, while preserving privacy and self-care. OpenHouse, for instance, proposes adapting transition spaces - such as hallways and stairwells - to make them more fun and functional. Installing furniture that encourages gathering or studying, or designing a specific lighting experience that invites the user to pause and dwell. In essence, it is about using the negative space between living quarters - space that is usually wasted since most people don’t actually stay and spend time in hallways and stairs - to create a  positive habitat. Isn’t that the message behind all of this? Transformation as an act of resilience and perseverance. Turning struggle into fruit. Basic support to fulfillment. 

I believe so. 

This is my wish for the future of living, physically and symbolically. I wish for us to live in symbiosis, not just with each other, but with spaces that encase us.

Consuming (Newsletter #31)

What does it mean to "ethically" consume? What does it mean to be an "ethical consumer"? What is "ethical consumerism"? You may or not be familiar with this concept, but it came on my radar a few weeks ago and ever since I have been questioning my own ethics and behavior regarding consumption.

The basic premise of ethical consumerism is the rejection of traditional mainstream consumer practices which are characterized as unethical - according to ethical consumerists. The desired alternative is a supposedly more sustainable mode of consumption. Already here there is a red flag of sorts: can we really sustainably consume? Meaning, can we consume in a way that supports the three pillars of development - economic, environmental, and social - while ensuring that future generations will be able to answer their needs? In the world we live in, governed by sporadic market fluctuations, ever-increasing monetary flows, and power moves, I don't know if that is possible. 

The ethical consumerism debate should be about trying to improve systems of production and consumption for the good of people and the planet, but really it has turned into a fight about moral virtuosity. Like kids fighting about who is better than the other, the "ethical" consumer is pitted against the "non ethical" consumer. Oh yeah, because we can't resist binaries, we assume that whoever is not buying everything organic or clothes from recycled materials is "non ethical". Red flag #2.

Ethical consumerists claim moral superiority - if not explicitly then implicitly. I am guilty of this. The thing is they don't realize they've fallen for the trap. The trap set up by the same system they want to oppose. 

I certainly fell for it.

We have been made to believe that the solution to political and social issues is more consumption. It may look like cleaner consumption, but it is still consumption. We believe that consumers, as individuals, have the power to make drastic change. They do, in some regards, but not nearly as much as is needed to make sustainable change. We should examine how it is we approach societal issues. Too often, it is with the idea that the individual is more important than the collective, and consistently downplays the role of large corporations.

This tension between our private lives and public ones, the personal and the societal is at the crux of today's most pressing issues. 

Continuing to buy a lot even if it is from presumably more ethical sellers doesn't solve anything, it just perpetuates the same problematic system. The other issue is that it is really hard to find a way out of the system. As much as you would like, you can't avoid it unless you decide to stop buying everything and go live somewhere in the wild like a hermit.  

This being said, I don’t think we should stop trying to make more environmentally and socially conscious decisions when consuming (ie being "ethical"). We are all trying to do our best, and that is a good first step. The next step would be to hold the corporations accountable. Many low income people would not survive without the existence of large corporations - that is where they work. Getting rid of them is not right. What we need to do is reform how these companies function - how they treat their workers, how they pay them, how they acknowledge them. Equally, how they treat the planet. We need to stop literally buying into the lie that more purchasing will solve issues of inequality, poverty, or environmental degradation.

To be honest, I don't know what the moral of this story is supposed to be, if there even is one. I wish I had something more positive to end with, but I just don't have the answers. I am still trying to grapple with my own consumer behaviors. I wanted to write this seeing as it's Black Friday weekend, which is basically the pinnacle of mass consumption in the US. Maybe take this as an invitation to do some reflection. Maybe you have ideas as to how we can make better, more sustainable change. If you do, please share! 

If you have the time, I highly recommend reading this article entitled The Twilight of the Ethical Consumerist which is where this whole tangent started from. You can develop your own opinion about the issue. 

Have you been seduced by the appeal of “ethical consumerism”?

Housing (Newsletter #28)

If there's one thing corona has taught us - or the year 2020 for that matter - it's the value of having a home. For those of us fortunate enough to have a shelter, outfitted with the things and people we feel the need to have, to feel safe and comfortable, then we know how lucky we are to have one. I don't think we will - at least I hope we won't - be taking our homes for granted anymore. But for those who don't have access to an actual home - a physical space - or whose home is simply not conducive to support or nourishment or thriving, what is there to hold onto? 

What a question. 

There are so many answers, it seems. But also not really? I bet some of you were confused. Take a moment to reflect. What comes up? For me, it's this: what about our bodies? We forget that they are what contain us, shelter us, and keep us alive - just like homes do. Actually they are what make us alive. We would not be here without them. And I mean that in the most literal sense. 

This idea of the body being our home surfaced as I was listening to a podcast about how our modern society - and in this case the discussion was about diet culture specifically - is making us feel less and less "at home" within our bodies. It is robbing us of our innate ability to connect with our physical selves, thus enabling a sense of instability, of loss. Our fast paced, increasingly chaotic, stressful and anxiety inducing lives have further widened the gap between our mind and bodies. We forget that our bodies are not just dispensable exogenous agents that we can "set and forget" although that is how most of us live - ie on autopilot. 

So the question comes: how can we re-nurture this connection? How can we revitalize this sense of home within our bodies? 

For one, recognizing that our bodies are our homes - the first homes we ever live in. Only then can we begin to treat it as such: we clean it, tend to it, maintain it and yes, we give it a break. When parts of your home start breaking down - the roof is leaking, a window breaks, the plumbing is clogged - then that's usually a sign that there are some issues, perhaps even some structural issues. (I know this from experience). Now contrary to physical homes, we can't just leave our bodies to go find a new one when they're not working for us anymore. We have to deal with them and do something about it. 

The immediate answer would be to try to fix this problems, to mend them like we would a crack on the ceiling. But that isn't always easy or possible. Fixing shouldn't always be the answer. 

Another option would be to embrace the cracks, the old features that make a home unique, that reveal its age and wisdom. The time worn characteristics like those of an object you've had since childhood.

It's up to you really what you want to do with your home/body? Do you want a shiny new "contemporary" minimalist home? Do you want a slightly older mid century modern? Or do you want that old Victorian house that's been sitting on the block for 100 years? It doesn't matter what you chose, so long as you recognize its value and take care of it as best you can. 

I encourage you to think about your bodies, not in an obsessive way, but in a curious, open, and perhaps even an appreciative way (if you can get there). I am by no means perfect; in fact much of what I said here is still very much theory for me, but I am trying. 

Writing about it gives me the opportunity to reflect and regroup. I haven't found that feeling of home with my body. But I am working on it. In the meantime, I'll just keep writing. 

***

I'll leave you with this stanza I read from a poem entitled excerpt from "The Age of Aquarius". It intrigued me for the simple fact that I had never read the body described in such a way. It puts into question everything I just described about our bodies being our homes. What if we saw our bodies as the universe? What would that change for us? As always, your thoughts are welcome.

Our bodies contain elements of outer space. So that when we’re naked we are gazing at the universe

Looking Back (Newsletter #23)

Well, what a week.

I have not forgotten about you! I am sorry for this delay again, I have just been quite busy, and frankly have not taken the time to properly write. And let me tell you: I miss it! Greatly. I long for the days when I will be able to just write. Write all day, about anything and everything. Long rants, short reflections, formal essays. How fun. 

Anyways, considering the chaos that continues to color - or darken - our days, I thought I would share something a little bit more fun, albeit a bit nostalgic.  A Century of Dining Out: The American Story in Menus, 1841-1941 is a digital catalog of menus recovered from various periods in American history from The Great Depression to the Gilded Age and Jazz Age. As a design student who is fascinated by the meaning and story behind seemingly mundane everyday objects - and not to mention someone who is interested in food as a cultural and social mechanism - this particular archive drew my attention. What could the humble menu reveal about American life, if anything? What could it say about our culture? About how people lived, thought, connected? Menus are something we used to interact with frequently, and I am not just referring to the physical printed menus from restaurants or bars, but also digital menus, menus posted on screens, walls, and otherwise more “implied” menus. They’re something most of us probably don’t think twice about; we use them transactionally, so we most certainly never think about them as designed or artful objects. This exhibition reminded me of this fact: the objects that surround us are not just given - they don’t just magically appear. They are designed and thought out. Granted, some are more aesthetically pleasing than others, but that does not diminish the act of creation that lies within. 

What’s more, I think it is an interesting time to be looking back at the history of menus, not just because we now live in the covid era - where restrictions on dining out come and go in flux - but because menus are unique revelatory emblems of a distinct American way of life, a way of life that seems irrelevant now. Or maybe not? The concept of dining out is not American by all means, but this particular archive guides us through  fluctuations of the US’ cultural, social, and political life in a way I have not seen before; through a very narrow but paradoxically eye-opening lens. Menus are, at their most basic level of existence, purely functional objects. They present us with a list of choices; we read them, then select. Simple, right? But often what goes into that selection - the designing, the creating, the using - carries a lot more meaning than we are conscious of. Meanings about ourselves, our identities, our way of life, and by extent society’s too. So, as the US is undergoing a strange and tumultuous time, I think it is not only interesting but important to look back at this aspect of society.  To quote from the site,

Menus are minor, transient documents that tell us how people have dined outside the home over time. […] They aid our cultural memory by providing historical evidence, not only of what people were eating, but what else they were doing and with whom they were doing it; and what they valued.

How can The American Story in Menus inform us today? What can we learn from it, and that could potentially help us?

“The menu is an art form that aims to please. While most were intended for short-term use and not meant to be saved, others were finely crafted by high-society stationers such as Tiffany's and Dempsey & Carroll. Even when kept as personal mementos, however, they were frequently discarded by later generations for whom they had no special meaning. As with other types of ephemera, part of their appeal lies within the notion of their improbable survival.”

Repurposing (Newsletter #19)

And thus comes to a close my first week of Sophomore year! It’s been a week - lots of good things, some bad things. Just regular life, I suppose. I haven’t been writing as much as I would like to, but I continue to read abundantly. It seems to be what makes me happy :) And I have been told that you need to read to write well, so I guess I will just keep reading. What have you been up to? (You can reply to this email if you would like to share!)

There are many topics and ideas I would like to talk write about from this week, but the one that stands out is simply this: Everything is Alive. Before you roll your eyes, let me explain. 

My new studio teacher (!!) introduced us to a podcast - Everything is Alive - as inspirational material for our first project where we are exploring the world of readymades and found objects*. I think this is an interesting way to begin the school year, and an especially pertinent continuation of the reality of corona-time. Our new realities look like a lot more time is spent at home and for many, online, as well. This means we are now confronted more directly with all the stuff we own - the stuff we bought, inherited, found, or “borrowed”. We do these acts mindlessly most of the time; we fill our homes with things out of necessity, desire, or because we feel like it. Sometimes, we see something and immediately we feel like we should buy it (me). Other times, Google Ads determined you might like something based on your internet activity and thus very discreetly suggested it to you (also me). It seems to be in our nature to buy, accumulate, and keep things. But do we really appreciate what we have? Have we ever taken a moment to really look at the objects that surround us? To observe them and understand them - their meaning, their value, their role in our lives? 

What if we did? What if we considered the objects that populate our homes and support our lifestyles as more than just fixed and soulless things? What if these objects had lives and minds of their own? Enter the above-mentioned podcast, Everything is Alive. It explores the life behind objects, or rather the life of objects. As the name suggests, everything is alive. Yes, even your toaster, the lamppost, or the fleeting cloud in the sky. 

Every-thing, in the end, can be objectified and quantified. And what if we added “humanized” to that list? Literally gave life to objects? That is, in essence, what I believe the Readymade and Found Objects approaches aim to do in the art world. But it isn’t just about making something out of something that just exists. It’s fundamentally about changing our perspective on objects. Challenging our preconceived ideas of what objects are or should be. Repurposing is not just a method to create art. It is a way of thinking - and by extent living. So, as we all stay longer in our homes, I invite you to look around, observe your belongings and possessions. What are they saying? What are they thinking? Soon, you’ll realize you’re not the only thing that’s alive.

***

*A readymade is a manufactured object that is chosen by the artist and interpreted into a work of art; it is a form of repurposing. A found object is also an object chosen by the artist and turned into a work of art, but in contrast to the readymade, it is not necessarily manufactured; it can be from the natural world. It is important to distinguish the two terms, as they are similar, but their circumstances of their creation and implications widely differ.