Monthly Archives: January 2012

Jan 24 2012
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Street Art Made By Opening Curtains

I was walking around Palo Alto tonight after work. As I passed the fancy houses, I was struck by what I saw. I saw people’s private lives and household activities all out in the open for everyone to see. I saw people eating dinner, talking, playing, something that looked like tutoring, at least five households watching the state of the union, and one make-out session. I could also see art. Private art that most likely will never be seen in a gallery or museum. Much of it was positioned and lit as if it were meant to be seen from the street. It’s a new form of street art. I decided to continue walking and to try to find as much art visible from the street as possible. I present here a few samples of Palo Alto street art (taken with my phone):

While I was doing this activity I was reminded of work by Shizuka Yokomizo which I saw in a show at SF MoMA called Exposed: Voyeurism, Surveillance and the Camera Since 1870.

Shizuka Yokomizo, Stranger No. 2, 1999, chromogenic print; San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, Accessions Committee Fund purchase

Shizuka Yokomizo Untitled (from the series Stranger) 1998 – 2000
C-type prints, 127 x 108 cm

To create this series, Yokomizo sent letters to residents which explained, “Dear Stranger, I am an artist working on a photographic project which involves people I do not know…. I would like to take a photograph of you standing in your front room from the street in the evening.” If they wished to be photographed all they had to do was leave the curtains open and be present at the specified time. If they didn’t want to participate they were to leave the curtains closed.

Walking around Palo Alto tonight, it felt as if some people were doing this without a formal request. Perhaps they do it every night. They weren’t intentionally standing and posing in their living rooms (I think), but they were living their private lives in the front rooms of their homes with the curtains open. Sure, some houses had closed blinds, curtains, screens, opaque glass, hedges, fences, or were just dark. But it was fascinating to discover how many interiors I could see just passing by on the street. I personally always want to close the blinds at night because I feel like people can see me and I can’t see them (because, ahem, they can!) My husband gently mocks me, saying I remind him of his grandmother who would always tell him, “Fermez donc les volets mon petit, qu’on soit un peu chez nous.” With that, I’ll be closing my curtains now.

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Jan 24 2012
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False Trails and Squamish Special: A Guide to Getting Lost in the Woods

We had been looking for Squamish Special for over an hour. We climbed over a bunch of talus then dropped down from a big boulder where you could tell everyone’s jumped down before because there was a bald spot at the bottom. I jump down, look up, and say, “fuuucckk.” As soon as you jump down, all you see in front of you in moss and nowhere to walk. No sign that anyone has moved forward from there. You know that everyone who has jumped down from that boulder has had this exact same feeling. Then they’ve had to turn around, climb back up and find their way back to the trail.

My brother was telling me this story about false trails in Squamish, British Columbia. The area is dense with talus, huge standing trees, huge fallen trees, brush, ferns, and moss. He and his friends have gone bouldering there the last few summers, and they use guide books to find new boulders to climb. The guides sound vague though because there are few distinguishing landmarks to follow. The book might say, “There will be a fallen tree next to the rock,” but here everything looks like that. Even the photos of the boulders in the book might be misleading. The pic might have been taken in winter and when you go in summer it’s going to look really different. My brother points to one and says, “You can’t even see this angle of the rock in August because the trails are overgrown. It wouldn’t look like this at all from the approach we’d be taking.” Here’s a description from the guide of how to reach a boulder called Vigilante found in the Smoke Bluffs:

To approach, start at the motorcycle trials signboard on the east side of the Smoke Bluffs parking lot. Follow the well-worn bike trail north for about 20 paces and turn right onto a faint trail that leads directly into the brush. Trend slightly right, eventually stepping up onto a small, vegetated granite slab. Walk about 25 paces south, over mossy rocks and through trees, toward the Boulder Gully talus field. A short mantel through a mossy slot on the left wall leads to a grassy ledge – the Vigilante boulder is directly above.

What ends up happening is that people will find a faint trail that more or less matches the description in the book and is more or less in the right place. They’ll continue down the path for 5 minutes, 10 minutes, maybe longer. Then all of a sudden the path will turn a corner around a tree and stop dead in the middle of  a field of ferns. “This is sooo frustrating,” my brother tells me. You know exactly at that point that you’re on a false trail. That you have followed the mistakes of so many people before you. Every time someone treads on that path they make it more defined. So not only have you followed a false trail, but you have made it a little easier for someone else to make the same mistake.

I find this oddly comforting. When I have a problem or am lost, I feel like no one understands it the way I do. On a false trail, my problems are less unique. And knowing that my problems are not unique is really special. You’re not alone! Others, many others, have done it wrong in exactly the same way. It’s an apt metaphor for how we go about our day, trying to find our way, often going down the well-worn path that’s totally wrong for us. But always with the ability to turn around and go back.

I also love this as a nerd study in wear patterns. We leave our impression on the environments in which we live. This is visible evidence that many were there before us and many will follow after.

This is an example of how convoluted the “trails” can be. My brother says that it’s usually better to stick to the trails though and not try to cut across another way. There’s probably a really good reason they are where they are – the least heinous path.

To my untrained eye, I couldn’t tell this rock from Adam, let alone decide how it might change through the seasons. (Pages from Marc Bourdon’s Squamish Bouldering (2010).)

Scrambly paths…

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Jan 23 2012
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I hate Innovation

Like Christianity or Communism, the idea of innovation started off so pure, like love thy neighbor, and everyone should be treated the same. Then “innovation” became a tool for evil people to carry out selfish desires. Yet to say I hate it makes me sound like the anti-Christ.

What do you think of when you hear the word innovation? I see computers flying through space with blinking lights making a whooshhh sound then a plinnk. A woman’s voice declares, “Innovation… connecting you to the future.”

You know who put this image in my head? I don’t. It was a countless amount of big faceless corporations mind-raping me. A big, homogenous beige computer from the 90′s raping my brain.

The word “innovation” has been reduced to a corporate buzzword like synergy (let’s not even get started on synergy). It now stands for nothing. I really don’t even know what it means. Doesn’t it just mean invention? The words even sound the same.

Dictionary.com says it means “something new or different introduced.” Well that sounds great. Something new or different, fresh. Then isn’t it ironic that I think of the complete opposite? The power of marketing is amazing. Maybe we can start a campaign to revitalize this term.

Also what is interesting is when I hear “innovative.” I don’t think of the same thing. I think of art directors standing in galleries with their hands resting on their chins. I think of modern dance. I think of daring movies. Innovation as a noun, bad. Innovative as an adjective, good.

Here are some terrible, terrible examples of innovation found simply on Google Images. Really look at these images in all of their image stock glory. What are they really showing us? What the hell does a fish in a lightbulb mean? Google “innovation” for yourself and see if you can top my examples in terms of extreme shitiness.

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Jan 19 2012
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Parking Lot Oceans Swallow Me Up

Find parking spot. Pull in. Stop the car. Unbuckle the seat belt. Gather belongings. Open the door. Left foot first. Then…

SPLASH!!! You’re in the parking lot ocean. Do you know how to swim?

I do. I watch for cars pulling in and backing out of spaces whose drivers might or might not see me. I dodge the cars that circle endlessly to get the spot closest to the storefront. (I always park in the faraway spots because I hate circling, even once, which drives my husband nuts.)  I hop over curbs. I cut across landscaping. I’m a good swimmer now, I know how to ride the waves, but I hate it.

I’m thinking specifically of navigating the gross, suburban big box parking lots. (The stores themselves are a whole other topic.) Rant Alert: This will be a rant on specific parking lots. If this is going to make you tired please skip to the next paragraph. When I was living in San Jose my most dreaded parking lot was at the stripmall on Coleman by the airport. Sometimes I would want to go to both Trader Joe’s and to Target, but if you map that distance it’s .3 miles, far enough to make you wonder if it’s really in the same lot. I would never drive from one to the other because that would make me feel irresponsible and silly, but pushing a heavy cart across a parking lot not made for walking makes me feel silly too. My most hated parking structure in San Francisco is at 9th st and Brannan. Yes, again at Trader Joe’s! That structure is always a cluster-cuss, so I tried parking outside on the street one day. The only way for pedestrians to enter or exit any of the stores, however, is by first walking into the structure via the lanes with the cars. All the storefronts face internally to the parking structure and it’s dark and depressing. Plus, once you’re done shopping and trying to make it back to your car, the cart locks 20 feet shy of the exit. So secure!

More often than not, when my feet hit the pavement I’m in a parking lot ocean, especially now that I’m back in the burbs. And now that it’s winter, I opt to drive instead of riding my bike to work because I’m a baby, according to my cube neighbor, Steve. I work right next to 101 in an industrial-esque part of Menlo Park. There’s nowhere to walk. So I find myself walking in the parking lot to get to my car, to take a break from work, or to walk .5 miles to a really wonderful taqueria down the sidewalk-less street (the only place within walking distance worth eating at).

I want to drain the parking lot oceans. I want to tear away the painted lines, curbs, fences, streets, and freeways. I want to live a parking lot-free life. But how? If only there were models to follow.

A couple months ago, I watched Gary Hustwit’s latest documentary, Urbanized, and was struck by how so many so-called developing countries have gracefully surpassed the San Francisco Bay Area’s transportation systems in terms of efficiency and look and feel. It’s embarrassing that the people living in the heart of Silicon Valley drive long commutes on ugly freeways and walk more in parking lots than anywhere else all day. We care so much about how technology can improve our lives, yet we make very little effort to improve how we move our bodies from place to place. (Actually, I’m sure some people make a big effort, yet we – as a community, region, responsible citizens – are making very little progress.)

Why do so many people still insist on driving themselves all alone in their cars to work every day? Because it’s inconvenient to not do so. Whereas in Bogota, buses feel like trains and have dedicated traffic lanes. In Copenhagen over 30% of the population commutes to work every day by bike because their bicycle lanes are safe and protected. Projects to revitalize walkways connecting townships on the skirts of Cape Town are making it safer for people to walk to work and school.

So what’s up Bay Area?

Let’s infuse our public transportation with a little creativity. If we’re having problems because the Bay Area is too spread out, let’s squish together. I have this idea that we can all move our homes and workplaces to San Francisco and live like real city-dwellers walking on the streets, taking buses and trains, and maybe car sharing for those trips to the grocery store. Even if we won’t all move, we obviously have way too much available space if we’re still laying surface level parking lots. If we have to have parking lots, build up or, better yet, build down. And think about walkability when creating new services. Human bodies aren’t born with cars. We don’t need them to live. Let’s work on evaporating the parking lot oceans.

 

http://pinterest.com/adorndesign/parking-lot-oceans-swallow-me-up/

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Jan 11 2012
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Remake that Fairy Tale

Is it just me or has there been a large influx of edgy remakes of fairy tales and/or Disney movies?

First there was Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland featuring Johnny Depp. I was so excited, maybe too excited; it sounded awesome but it did not quite meet my expectations.

Then there was Red Riding Hood with Amanda Seyfried produced by Leonardo DiCaprio. Seyfried did okay but all the other acting was weak. It did have some nice imagery though. How can you go wrong with a blood red cape against a snowy white background?

I have not seen the movie but I saw a very creepy/cool trailer for a naughty Sleeping Beauty remake which may or may not have to do with child prostitution? Either way, I want to see it especially since Sleeping Beauty was always my favorite Disney movie. (I think this was because I loved the fairies. For anyone who knows it, Alicia was the green one because that was her favorite color, Jon was the red one for some reason, and inexplicably, I was the fat, complainy blue one.) Also, what a beautiful movie poster.

I recently saw a trailer for Snow White and the Huntsman with Charlize Theron as the Evil Queen and Kristen Stewart as Snow White. I am excited for it, it seems dark and a bit scary.

Unfortunately, I then saw a trailer for a different remake of Snow White (coming out within a few months of the movie above) called “Mirror Mirror” with Julia Roberts as the evil queen. I like Julia Roberts but her fake British accent in this sounds atrocious and the whole thing looks like a joke. They are obviously targeting a different audience with Shrek-like humor but it really looks awful. It even has one of the dwarves say, “Say hello to my little friend.”

I guess you can also argue the “Twilight” saga follows this same theme (or did they start it?) because of its age old vampire and werewolf themes, but this one’s more a stretch.

I do not consider myself a movie buff or anything so don’t take my comments too seriously, but why is there a need for remaking all of these fairy tales? I always think they look good and then I am disappointed. Is this inevitable because nothing can really live up to something I loved as a child? It forever holds a place in my brain and when someone tries to change it, it has to be really awesome to work. However I will keep going to these movies even if I do get disappointed because there is that glimmer of hope that it will give me that warm fuzzy feeling of enchantment.

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Jan 08 2012
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Knife Rack Death Trap (Fear of Tools)

In general, I have fear. I’ve always been a pretty cautious person, thinking ahead, aware of my surroundings. My feet tingle when I’m near a cliff, I picture myself falling over. I use an x-acto knife, I picture myself slicing off my thumb. And I hate our knife rack. In our old apartment it hung comfortably on the wall in a recessed niche between cabinets over the sink. In our new apartment, the only place it fits is right by the kitchen door. Any direction I point the knives (up, down, angled) I picture myself impaled on the tiny, gleaming blades.

This fear is especially powerful when I’m working with new tools or technology. I’m afraid of physically hurting myself. I’m afraid of looking stupid. And with things like new software, I’m afraid of clicking the wrong thing and deleting hours of work. I hate it. I wish I could use new tools without fear. It is dangerous to have this fear. I am a liability. (Actually, this could be why I do user research, because then it’s not the user’s fault if the thing won’t work, it just wasn’t designed right in the first place. Ha!)

I greatly admire those without fear.

My old roommate Leina does not have fear. She would wield a blade like she came out of the womb with it in hand. Need help cutting into that hard plastic “clamshell”  packaging? Carving a turkey? Tearing down that wall? No problem. She could do it. Be it with a saw, knife, sewing machine, nail gun, didn’t matter. She’s 100 pounds of pure brawn and balls. She also loved putting together furniture. Best roommate ever!

My friend Courtney does not have fear. She makes art, installations, and crafts of all kinds. Give her any challenge and she’ll make it a reality. You want an 8 foot tall giraffe made of paper and plaster? A hanging mobile of thousands of flowers made from old plastic bottles? Glass, metal, light, wood, it is all putty in her hands.

My mom does not have fear. Fabric melts to her touch. She’s teaching me to sew right now. Unlike her, I let out a little squeal the first time I ran a piece of fabric beneath the needle. “Pull yourself together,” I imagined her exclaiming, shaking me by the lapels. She didn’t do this of course. She just giggled a little and said that I shouldn’t be afraid. “There’s nothing you can do with a sewing machine that can’t be undone,” she insisted.

I think that’s key. Knowing that you have the power to make things right if they go wrong. Having the knowledge to prevent the bad things from happening in the first place. Watch one, do one, teach one, right? And so I force myself to use new tools. I took a glassblowing workshop, even though I was sure I’d burn my face off. I’m making a skirt even though I’ll probably sew my fingers to the fabric. And I’m going to sign up for a butchering class – fear of knives be gone! I’ll never be as good as the fearless makers I mentioned above, but I hope to be able to pass the knife rack one day without fear.

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Jan 07 2012
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Keep Calm and Carry On Tree

I was just riding my bike down the Bike Boulevard in Palo Alto. Right at Lowell and Bryant I came across a pair of trees flanking the road. Each was decorated with playing cards, and on the back of the cards read “Keep Calm and Carry On.” Just below the cards were signs declaring, “2012: New Year Ahead.” I don’t know what this is about, but I love it. So simple and fun. Not a completely clear message which lets me muse and ponder its meaning. (Yes, both muse and ponder.) A google search revealed nothing as to why or what the cards in the trees are about.

Any ideas?

I hope it’s not promoting a Forever 21 or something, that would make me feel douche-y.

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Jan 05 2012
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Airport bathrooms at the dinner table

We’re having dinner with the family over the holidays. After a couple bottles of wine, the conversation quickly devolves into potty talk – literally a discussion about toilets. We got into public toilets, and then more concretely, we really dug into toilets at the airport. Not only did I learn that I have been placing the toilet seat cover on the toilet wrong (my entire life!) but we came up with several design modifications that would aid the weary traveler and his or her bio needs.

This is mostly based on the majority of public restrooms we’ve encountered in the US.

1. Make the doors open outwards. The door on many public toilets opens inwards. Trying to get in the airport bathroom stall, I squeeze myself, my backpack and maybe another wheely carry-on through the door. I pivot and stretch so that I can close the door behind my backpack. Why? It doesn’t need to be like this. Often there’s a ton of space between the stalls and sinks (like 5-20 ft). Just let us push the door out. (*The only reason I can see to open inwards is in the event of a lock failure. It would be unfortunate for the door to accidentally swing outward before you’re done.)

2. Move the hook so that it doesn’t align with the lock. Let’s revisit lock failure for a moment. For some reason, no matter what purse, bag, or backpack you want to hook onto the bathroom door, the bottom of this bag will always inevitably unlatch that janky sliding lock that barely latches the door shut. Even the circular-styled lock that you slide closed with your index finger is likely to come undone while juggling your belongings in the stall.

3. Close the gap. I’m thinking specifically of those freestanding metal restroom partitions whose doors and walls don’t meet the floor or ceiling. You know, the ones where the door seems to float independently of the frame. If you have several of those stalls next to each other, depending on how many are locked or not, the gap between the door and the frame widens or narrows. Everyone politely pretends not to be able to see each other sitting on the toilet. But it’s a lie. We can all see you.

4. Make real, usable shelving or don’t. The metal flap attached to the wall is neither here nor there. It’s about 18 inches long, 8 inches wide at the hinge, and gently tapers to a rounded end. You know, the one that folds down across your face when you’re sitting. None of us could figure out what that’s for. “Oh good, let me just place my single brick, my one encyclopedia volume, my squirmy baby down here,” the weary traveler sighs with content. No. It is never the right size, and it needs a lot of weight to stay horizontal. Anything that I might want to put there for a second, like oh, my plane ticket, passport, magazine, tampon etc. is going to fly off as soon as I place it there and let go.

5. Dry and clean more often. This is the most obvious and varies a ton I’m sure between times of day, seasons, employee schedules, policy at different airports. The only good part is the Airblade. Please see my previous post about the wonders of the Dyson Airblade.

Oh, and none of us kids at this dinner conversation about toilets have babies or children of our own, and it’s been about twenty years since my parents had to deal with babies in bathrooms. I’m sure having to change a diaper in an airport bathroom is equivalent to…I don’t know, every unpleasant or precarious equivalent I could think of: getting stuck in a septic tank (true story), tightrope walking over a cesspool, eating off the floor in a McDonalds, all seemed less awful than changing a diaper in an airport bathroom.

Image found on The Toilet Book – way more than you ever wanted to know about toilets.

Keep the dinner conversation going. We welcome other suggestions and design improvements.

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