On the Moon

We saw Moon this past Friday. I’d been awaiting this film for a while now and it was well worth it. I was skeptical when I first came across the trailer — it makes it seem like an amalgam of various other sci-fi films before it — 2001, Alien and even Event Horizon. But the film has a completely different narrative that I can’t say anything about here. To do so would spoil it completely.

I do however want to remark on the art direction and style of the film. Instead of a hyperreal and future forward view of the future, it’s almost tied to the way the films mentioned above depicted the future of now. We’re past 2001. We’re not yet at the 2122 of Alien but the almost retro-future that is depicted in those films feel far more realistic than the futures of sci-fi films today.

The future in Moon is clean and smart but there’s a lot of dirt and use too. GERTY, the HAL-like computer voiced by Kevin Spacey is grimy and stained — as the only pseudo-form of life that astronaut-janitor Sam Bell reacts with in a physical basis, it’s not unexpected. Bell places his coffee mug on GERTY, Post-It’s and more. It’s a lovely humanist touch for a computer that’s not human.

As the movie progressed, I felt less like Sam Bell lived on a space station on the moon and rather that he lived in a home, on a planet that we can see every night, in a future not too distant from now.

New Work: Christopher Barrett

Last fall, Christopher Barrett dropped me a line to see if I’d be up for doing some branding and interactive design for his solo venture. Chris was striking out on his own and he was excited about the future. I’d been familiar with Chris’s work prior and even if not, his work graces many of the magazines, catalogs and such that you and I may have in our office, having photographed some of these items that you and I again, may even be sitting on.

Chris’s tastes run similar to mine — we have a fondness for the mid-century, modern period where a lot of of solid, clean lines in design were produced but Chris also loved that I layered and built depth with those layers in the design work here at Weightshift but always with a elegant and subtle touch.

We started discussing last fall and while it’s been a while since we started the project, we actually agreed to an initial design and version but halfway through, both of us decided we weren’t feeling the design as much. This isn’t the usual modus operandi but it illustrates a point that both of us wanted to it to be better. What was already in existence was good but it wasn’t quite right. With my asking and our open and honest client-studio relationship, I got to working on a different direction. Sometimes the better design comes along and for every time that time when you think “I wish I could have done it this way”, this one actually was done that way.

The photographs are handled with Todd Dominey’s ever-excellent SlideshowPro with the Thumbgrid extension. The blog is powered by Wordpress and the WP integration was expertly handled by Scott Robbin, who has been working with us on a few projects as a developer.

An image of the collateral and the website follow. For more images, visit the Design entry for it or visit Christopher Barrett for yourself.

My Max Headroom Morning

The alarm rang at 5am and I awoke, tidied myself up and made a cup of tea. I awoke the computer up from sleep and waited for the tea to settle in. It was still dark out and the streets were quiet. I launched Skype and dialed in. Tina answered on the other end.

For over a little over an hour, the above was my view as I was pleased and honoured to be a Virtual Guest for the Khoi Vinh edition of Tina’s CreativeMornings where Khoi presented “Everything I Know About Design I Learned in the Nineties.”

Before things got started however, I had a few chats with people and on the other end, the above is what people saw. A floating head on a screen. My Max Headroom fantasy fulfilled.

It was a great morning and it was nice to be virtually present for a presentation. It was a real taste of the the future that is now and the small gap between feeling like you’re there and yet, you’re thousands of miles away with a three hour time difference on the other side of the country. It was kinda funny too as they swiveled the iMac (I originally thought it was a laptop) around so I could see and participate — they even hooked me up for sound and if I wanted to, I could have spoken to the crowd at large.

While I’m finally feeling the effects of a super early morning, it was a real treat to be a part of this, especially Khoi’s edition and with all the love I have for the New York contingent, even more so.

A huge thanks to Tina for inviting me and to Khoi for having me as part of his presentation. If you’re in NYC you probably already know to go to these but if you don’t, you really should.

Fade to White

A ride over Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco into Marin. When Kim was in town, visiting a few days ago. The tops of the bridge were lost in the fog. Quite lovely actually.

Virtually on CreativeMornings

Tina Roth Eisenberg, or as she’s famously known, Swiss Miss recently asked me to be the virtual guest for the sold-out Khoi Vinh edition of CreativeMornings. So, if you’re there attending in NYC, please do come say hello to the floating head and cup of tea on a laptop somewhere in the room.

Fishing for Sharks

Another from the ongoing Work & Tools collection.

Over Memorial Day Weekend, a few of us rode to Heron’s Head, where we came upon a few fishermen as well as some with their full families in tow. They were all Chinese and I took some photos of their poles and associated gear set amongst the rocks. We also came across some live loot — a pair of small multi-coloured sharks, anchored via something that looked like a shoelace in shallow water. It felt wrong to me as I didn’t know what they would do with them (most likely sold to a local aquarium perhaps) but it wasn’t my place nor ours to say otherwise.

Hello, San Francisco.

And we’re back. Our move was unexpectedly smoother than we expected, i.e. drama-free for a change and it was a pleasant experience overall. This is in no small part due to the ever gracious HuffenCoopers who came with us all the way from our former home to our new home to help us settle in. Cinnamon went with Jen on their cross-country road trip with Shaun the Dog while Andrew accompanied me via plane with our cats, Monty and Loki. We are forever indebted.

We found a lovely space in SoMa (south of Market) in the so-called sunbelt of San Francisco, where it’s the sunniest for most of the time. The new digs are modern and suit us. Despite downsizing in space by not-quite half and slightly more than a third, we’ve also downsized and made more of a sustainable, efficient and cozier home. Then again, we also had too much space in Chicago (~1400 sq. ft) and we found ourselves purchasing items that we really didn’t need just to fill space that we didn’t use.

Things are back into the normal flow at the moment and it’s back to business as usual — we’re working with a new client and about to start on a few more new projects but also revisiting some old clients and work there. Minimal interruption.

More, soon.

A Stable of Steeds

Another from the now ongoing Work & Tools photo documentation I’m doing.

If you didn’t already know, I’m into bikes quite a bit. I race them (and during race season, write about that) but have for a long time now, been completely enamoured with the culture and lifestyle. The above photo is the mechanics’ workspace from The Pony Shop, an excellent bike shop in Evanston, the closest suburb north of Chicago, just past city limits. Lou Kuhn is the proprietor there and a stand-up guy who loves cyclocross, which has been my primary racing focus for the past two years. The shop is laid out well: the mechanics pit takes up 1/3 of the shop, all along the right hand side spanning the entire length of the shop. It’s remarkably laid out, giving them space to work in and room to maneuver unlike some of the typical cramped quarters that mechanics work in.

More photos from this shoot (originally taken in October 2008) accompany an article by a friend and teammate of mine, Zach Thomas, that appeared in Gapers Block in January 2009.

Needle & Thread

I’m currently documenting moments in working and workspaces that just aren’t digital. Other more tangible, labourious aspects of working around here. This is the sewing machine that Jen got from her recently passed aunt. It’s a stellar old machine, built into a desk. The manufacturer is White, a company that’s been around for over a century. Still solid and still going strong, being used by another generation.

Shadows & Silhouettes

SFMOMA, San Francisco, CA.

Mid-to-west

In 2000, I visited San Francisco with my then-girlfriend. We had just arrived from Seattle, having made this a multi-way trip. Chicago – Seattle – San Francisco – Chicago. Seattle was nice, though I continue to feel the same way about the place as I did when Jen and I visited there two years ago — I like the place a lot and it has great food but it’s not the place for me (or us).

San Francisco however was a revelation of sorts. It seduced me and I became infatuated with the place — the hills, the air, the weather, the culture and the cosmopolitan aspect of it. A great city with some of those things I had hoped to discover, find and see in Chicago but hadn’t. My then-girlfriend and I joked about not getting on the plane and sending for our things. We of course returned home.

The thought however, never left me and over the next few years, the idea of one day living in San Francisco has always remained slowly simmering just beneath the surface of daily life in Chicago. I didn’t return however until October 2006 with Jen and it was then when I asked her to marry me, in the city we didn’t live in. It may have been a bit of a sign however.

The idea shortly popped into our heads — perhaps we should move to San Francisco.

This started a somewhat odd search for a new city to possibly live in. The following March, in 2007, I went to my first SXSW and my hidden agenda for it was also to see if Austin would be a suitable place for us to live in. Not so much. We traveled to Seattle that October, as Jen had never been and I wanted to see if my thoughts on Seattle had changed much. Unfortunately, they had not. There it was, San Francisco, bubbling again. This time, the bubbles were breaking on the surface.

I’ve lived in Chicago for 11 years and four months. There is a lot that I’ve done and accomplished in this city but more so, I have the sort of friends and life I’ve always wanted to have and most importantly, I found love.

It wasn’t always a decisive conscious decision but organic — the way I’ve lived my life thus far has been about natural progression and letting things happen. When the third decade of my life came around, for the first time ever, I made a conscious decision to make a 5-year plan. And so I did. It involves both personal and professional goals and step one involved moving out of Chicago. A change was needed.

In 2008, a lot happened. A year of great successes but also great roadblocks. Fortunately, roadblocks can be overcome and downs can turn to highs. 2008 was a transitional year if there ever was one. I won’t go into much detail but with happiness came sadness. The combination of the two ultimately prompted the need to turn our formerly waffling plans into concrete resolutions. And so our three-years-in-the-making plan to move to San Francisco became a reality at the end of 2008.

We’re approaching May 2009 and in the past few months I’ve taken five flights. Two of those were to San Francisco, the first time with Jen and the last without. It was this last time, after the relative failure of the first trip (and the things we learned) did I finally come away with what we were looking for: a place to live. It was the first place I looked at, on the first day I got in. I walked in and knew that this could and would be home.

In mid-May, we’ll be residents of San Francisco.

There’s likely plenty more to say. But for now, this will do.

gReader: iPhone vs. Regular

A while ago I stumbled upon the regular, non-iPhone version of Google Reader, while using my iPhone. If you don’t use an iPhone, you’ll see it here. If you do, you’ll see this version (both browser loadable).

At left, the regular mobile version. At right, the iPhone version.

I actually prefer the non-iPhone version for a few reasons:

• The regular mobile version is plainer and more condensed. It’s speedier over 3G, wireless and most importantly, Edge.
• It uses different language: you’re presented with a “Reading List” versus “All Items.” The language seems a bit more friendly and intimate that way.
• The iPhone version uses the web version’s folders visually though the web version also has a annoying discrepancy between the usage of tags/subscriptions/folders. The non-iPhone version just uses tags and subscriptions.
• Most importantly and my favourite reason has to be with the way the non-iPhone version keeps the open feed item active even when you go back to gReader after opening a link or the full item in a new page in Mobile Safari. In the iPhone version, it uses Javascript inline and thus doesn’t retain the page when coming back to it after viewing a new page — it’s random when Mobile Safari will refresh the link or not and if it does, the item you were reading has now been marked as read and disappears from view unless you have All Items as the default vs. All New Items.

Small things and your mileage and preferences will vary but for me, I prefer the non-iPhone version.

Patagonia: Ironclad and Going Strong

“I live for the moment. I’m basically a Buddhist-type person. I’m just here right now, and I don’t think about what’s going to happen a hundred years from now. I try to concentrate on what’s going on right now. But I’m really trying to run this company like it is going to be here a hundred years from now. That’s what’s important.”
— Yvon Chouinard, founder of Patagonia.

I’ve long subscribed to the philosophy that my father instilled in me long ago, when I was brash and I wanted more, more, more: “You buy one good thing and you buy it once.” The principle has stayed with me, not always, but most of the time. I tend to study potential purchases and brands based on quality, longevity, usefulness and what sort of life the product will have and how long it may stay in my possession. Usually, this means you pay more for the product but how much more content are you when you got what you really wanted rather than the knockoff, imitator or cheaper version that you know you’ll be more likely to throw out, pass on or abuse? With higher quality, scarcer quantity and generally that higher price tag, comes a responsibility and cherishing of the product or service. You pay for what you get, yes?

One of the brands I’ve longed believed in is Patagonia. The outdoor-active-lifestyle apparel company has remained a constant of quality and quiet innovation. They do what they do well and stand by what they make.

I own a few Patagonia pieces. Not that many, but a few key items I’ve purchased over the years. There’s a simple reason for this despite my lust for many of their products: the stuff lasts.

In 2001, I bought my first ever Patagonia piece. A simple black zip-up mid-layer, which was an early incarnation of the R1 and R4 pullovers. This is probably the oldest piece of clothing I have. Apart from a few small micro-tears near the collar and a slight bit of stretch, the piece still looks relatively new. After a good wash, it looks brand new. It’s remarkable. At the time, I bought it on sale. It was something like $120 new but the local REI had a winter sale and I bought the piece for $70. It was a lot of money then. I was still living like a college student, having graduated six months prior. But I felt that it was the piece. After 8 years of solid duty, it’s still going strong. It’s been with me all over the country and is an extremely versatile piece. I’ve worn it dressed up, dressed down, on the bike, off the bike and everywhere in between. In fact, I’m wearing it right now.

Chicago’s winters are hard. For a few years in the mid-aughts, we had mild winters but in the past three years, they’ve perhaps returned to their prior demeanour — vicious, biting and bone-chilling. Jen and I both needed to gear up to deal with this past winter and needed new jackets. I own a variety of jackets but have never owned a proper down jacket, or what I like to call “puffer jackets.” Jen has neither. Knowing that we were in for a rough winter and being tired of the cold, we invested in the Down Sweater (hers being the female but knee-length trench version). Not particularly cheap but considering the going rate for many of these jackets from outdoor apparel manufacturers and being filled with down as well as coming from a company such as Patagonia who have healthy environmental and business philosophies, a deal. The jackets served us very well this past winter and we’ve been pleased beyond belief.

A few days ago, I accidentally, through no direct fault of my own, put a tear in the sleeve of the jacket at the elbow. After the initial alarm and disappointment wore off, I remembered that Patagonia has what they call the “Ironclad Guarantee.”

We guarantee everything we make. If you are not satisfied with one of our products at the time you receive it, or if one of our products does not perform to your satisfaction, return it to the store you bought it from or to Patagonia for a repair, replacement or refund. Damage due to wear and tear will be repaired at a reasonable charge.

Jen has had a prior dealing with Patagonia when the zipper of a zip-up she had broke after a year. They replaced it on the spot, in the store with a new one. We were quite stunned. She still wears this piece.

This morning, I rode down to the local Patagonia store with my jacket, hoping to get it repaired. I walked into the store and told the sales associate my story. She listened and told me that they can definitely get it repaired at no cost and that it would take 6-8 weeks. Ack. I explained to her that that would be difficult as I was relocating to San Francisco in just a few weeks. She kindly suggested bringing it to the store there instead and I was pleased with this as a solution. Though, she then said, “Y’know what? You could see if we have it in the store in your size. The only thing is that we no longer make this colour. If you want to do that, we can just replace it on the spot.”

While I loved the Espresso colour of the jacket, I felt that this was an option I could do. She guided me to the back of the store and there they were, “…in brighter colours this year.” There was black. There was my size, an XS. I picked it up and told her it was all good.

Under normal circumstances, I would have been happy to have my jacket sent off to be repaired — spring is here and the need for a winter jacket is no longer a necessity and so 6-8 weeks would have been perfectly fine. But with moving across country, it was one less thing I wanted to worry about.

Patagonia came through yet again and has been doing so for years. There’s a story in Yvon Chouinard’s book, “Let My People Go Surfing“ about how a longtime customer of theirs came in to get a pair of pants repaired. Apparently they were beyond repair, holes and all, and they suggested she replace it with a newer version, now decades apart. She said no and was happy to pay for Patagonia to remake the piece. Patagonia looked up the old pattern, sourced a similar material from their archives and did just that.

That’s customer service. That’s how you build brand loyalty. That’s how you become one of the best.

The Flaws of a Fatboy and Its Fixes

Well over a year ago, we purchased a dog bed from Fatboy. We scoured the internets for a bed that was made from nylon/ripstop or some other similar material. Despite the fact that most cloth dog bed covers can be removed for cleaning, they still capture smells, hair and dirt that can be unbecoming. Fatboy seemed like the perfect solution with its tough removable exterior (the Styrofoam beads are contained in a separate liner), cool colors and a general pleasing aesthetic. It has been a great product, though, admittedly it’s a bit small for Shaun’s (the dog™) liking, so we’re more apt to see the cats lounging on it. C’est la vie. At least it’s seeing use.

When we first moved into this apartment, we had an Ikea couch in the office. It was great solely for the pets and overnight visitors. But as we had issues with previous dog beds and their cloth covers, so, too, were there issues with the Ikea couch cushions. Dirt from Shaun’s paws, dander, hair, dust — all of it displayed on the very quickly deteriorating cushions. And let’s it face it, we’re not the beacon of cleanliness in this household. We sold the couch for $15 at a yard sale, but knew we needed to replace it with something for when the family came to visit. Air mattresses deflate overnight, and we didn’t want another large piece of furniture. Seeing as how Fatboys are so versatile and taking note of the dog bed’s stamina despite animal claws and general havoc, we opted for the human-sized 55“x70” Fatboy.

We loved it immediately, and I even suggested getting another one. We could drag it from room to room, my sister slept on it over the holidays, both Naz and I could sit on it upright in a love seat fashion, and even Shaun enjoyed its sprawl in comparison to his own tiny Fatboy. And it provided hours of entertainment for our daredevil cats. Before too long, they were using it as a launch pad for late night antics. But those antics more than likely led to a sequence of disparaging events.

I noticed a small tear near the top. As I investigated further, it was clear that this was not the same durable material as the dog bed. And by now some of the Styrofoam beads started spilling out. Wait, what the…? This thing isn’t lined either?

I removed the Fatboy from the living area and put it in our bedroom to avoid any further rigorous use. Realizing now that the beads weren’t contained in a separate liner as the dog bed had been constructed, I knew I would need to sew a lining with a zipper. Aside from transferring millions of static-electric beads from the inside of the Fatboy to a self-constructed liner, there was no big issue, right? I pried open the industrial-strength Velcro seal only to discover that the zipper was embedded underneath the folds of material. And worse, the zipper had no tab. Stellar craftsmanship. Clearly my opinion of this Fatboy was declining rapidly. What I didn’t know was that my opinion of Fatboy the brand/company was soon to follow.

Naz drafted a letter to Design Public regarding the issue of the tear and the zipper. We acknowledged that the tear probably was due to wear and tear, but with the defective zipper, there was no way to fix the hole from the inside. And god-forbid we use unsightly duct tape on the outside of this glorified bean bag chair. The product was less than 2 months old, so we held on to the hope that some kind of concession could be made, particularly since it seemed faulty from the outset.

I’ll refrain from commentary on the outcome of email correspondence with both Design Public and Fatboy as they can be found here. In a nutshell, the zipper was not flawed; it was child-proof. And the tear was due to regular wear and tear, which wasn’t covered under any kind of guarantee. So we were on our own. Either we discard the product entirely or try to mend it ourselves. Like I said in my blog, I’m not one to readily waste money, and I wasn’t going down without some concerted effort to fix it.

Step 1
Get into a zippered cover with an alleged child-proof zipper. Before going further, I must mention that nowhere on Fatboy’s site do they claim to use “child-proof” zippers. With a screwdriver, we were able to partially dislodge the zipper body so that it could at least be more exposed. Exposed for what, I wasn’t completely sure yet. Looking at the zipper, there was a hole where the tab would be if this was a “normal” zipper. We tried threading the hole with a safety pin and using that as a makeshift tab, but the zipper was still slightly embedded. The safety pin wasn’t strong enough to pull on; the zipper wasn’t budging. The next tool we had in our repertoire was a tiny watch screwdriver. Slender enough to fit in the hole, but strong enough to leverage the zipper from its jammed position. Voila! Step 1 complete.

Step 2
Remove static-y Styrofoam beads from the Fatboy cover into a shoddily-assembled liner made from an old sheet. Saying this was tricky is putting it mildly. First, we needed to start putting some of the beads into the liner just to get rid of a small portion of the sheer volume of these beads. Using a poster tube and a cup, the scooping and pouring began. Factor in static electricity, two curious cats and an equally curious dog, a mere 6” slit in the new liner and millions of beads, and you’ve got a project to occupy you for a good three hours. Thankfully it was rainy outside, so we had nothing to do anyway.

What began as a delicate process so not to spill too many precious beads quickly transformed into a laughable “Screw you, Fatboy” tirade.

Step 2.1
Continue to transfer Styrofoam beads. The next step was to empty out as many beads into the bathtub as possible. Why? We needed to contain them as best as we could because the liner needed to be placed inside the cover before it got too full and couldn’t fit through the cover’s opening. Guess what? The number of beads in a Fatboy turned our bathtub into a miniature ski slope, and we exercised a bit of restraint as to not jump in and play a la Chuck E. Cheese, or at least throw the cats in the mound of whiteness. At this point, we had beads in the bedroom where the game started, beads in the hallway as we dragged it into the bathroom and beads near the front door where the vacuuming operation began.

Step 2.2
Vacuum remaining beads inside the cover. The beads. They were everywhere. We were a couple hours into this process already, and our patience was wearing thin. No longer was I salvaging every tiny bead that ended up on the floor, on our shoes, on the cats or in our hair. But we still needed to get as many of those clingy little balls out of the cover as we could before putting the liner in. So out comes the Dirt Devil and quickly begins the cyclone of beads inside the canister. I think we emptied the canister and cleaned out the HEPA filter 3 or 4 times before we were satisfied that enough beads had been removed.

Step 3
Insert liner into cover and place duct tape on tear on the inside of cover. This part was the easiest. But once that was done, it was back to the poster tube, cup and scooping and pouring routine. Naz tended to the bulk of this operation sad to say because despite the enormity, it really was a one-person task. Aside from sewing the liner and playing Styrofoam-bead wrangler, I merely stood by, took photos and offered playful banter where applicable.

My offering to the Fatboy company is to make the human version just like the pet version. Disregarding the issue with the zipper, having it lined as the pet version would have prevented this entire mess. We still could have pried into the cover, sealed the tear with a small piece of duct tape on the inside and bada-bing, bada-boom, done. Or to go once step further, use the same thicker material as the pet version, and the tear probably wouldn’t have resulted in the first place.

Would I buy this product again? Not in the least. But at least it is operational again even if a bit saggy because of the Styrofoam-ball casualties in the end.

The Bay from Above

The Bay Area, CA.