VCA 2010 RACE RUN from changoman on Vimeo.

Nice surprise on a Thursday morning.

I’m back in San Francisco today, where I had the chance to walk around my old neighborhood. It’s always strange and wonderful to come back here. The things that are seductive about the place work such a strong magic on me–the light, the landscape, the architecture, the exotic Dr. Suess trees.

The sense that everything is heightened and stimulating was part of what I loved about it here–and part of what made it hard too. It’s like a radio station that only plays one song and it’s loud and happy and sweet. You sometimes want a slow song, or a quiet one. Or to just turn off the music. And then you maybe start to think: what’s wrong with me? Everyone else seems to like this music.

Anyway, I was up early and took a walk around Noe Valley–got coffee at what used to be Spinelli’s and is now Bernie’s. Sat on a sunny bench and watched Friday morning go by. The grocery store there is now a Whole Foods. Phoenix Books has moved down the street. The sushi place has changed hands they tell me.

Walking up Vicksburg street this morning, I remembered making this same walk, up Vicksburg to Elizabeth where we had an apartment on the 3rd floor of this yellow building. One day there were avocados (avocados!) covering the sidewalk, spilled from the tree across the street. Avocados grow on trees! And another time pulling up in front of the house to see my wife and daughter in the back of an ambulance, about to pull away for the hospital. They were fine, but the ghost of that ambulance was still parked in front of the building today when I walked by.

After I took this picture, I saw a person pass in front of the big bay window in the corner. We never kept curtains on the window either– the light up there was too wonderful. And I guess we thought no-one could see in, or would be interested in looking in on the dailyness that would one day become these ghosts.

My cat fell out of that bay window once. Afterwards, she was fine too.

The first thunderstorm of the season came through the other night,
cooling off the 90 degree day and knocking down trees.

I’ve also been collecting my thoughts on the iPad, and was struck by a comment by Columbo in this morning’s promotional email:

I do not have an iPad yet, but will surely get one. I have drawn on one already, and loved a larger screen. (I’m tired of mixing phone calls in with my art supplies). One day we’ll be able to draw on touch screens the size of a door. Compare the early iPods—2001: heavy, grey screen, no pictures, etc.—with current ones. Doesn’t it make you feel like this one iPad is ONLY the beginning? The basic thing for me remains: no visible tool. Finger creates art, period… The other key point is portability: a regular digital studio is now in your pocket. It’s not so much a toppling of status quo, more like a broadening of alternatives—shooting a movie in black-and-white film now doesn’t mean the same it meant a century ago—back then it was the single option; now it’s a choice among many.

In another blog post I read this morning, David Sheilds wrote:

Art, like science, progresses. Forms evolve. Form are there to serve the culture…

Sheilds doesn’t make the technological argument (that new forms are made possible by new technologies) but he doesn’t have to. The forces of change are multivariate.

And I’m buying Brushes.

In at least one case, the answer is: a John Deere windmill frame stuffed horse with mirror in corner.

Overlooking the construction of Brooklyn Bridge Park

This morning, I stopped for a few minutes on the Promenade in Brooklyn Heights, and was delighted to see the trucks moving earth for the new Brooklyn Bridge Park. The helicopters and ferries landing in lower Manhattan just added spice.

I like watching trucks. I don’t know why, but I’ve never outgrown my fascination.

And yet in retrospect, it seems the obvious first question to consider if one were to approach the design of urban environments. It should have been obvious to me anyway, given that my background in interaction design is grounded in a method called goal-directed design, a method that seeks to first to identify the goals of any artifact or system to be designed. And yet it was an eye-opener to me to read this piece on Daily Good about the revitalization of Bogata, Colombia.

Enrique Peñalosa, the Mayor of Bogota, speaking on the subject of the urban revitalization projects that he’s undertaken during his term, is quoted as saying,

“If we in the Third World measure our success or failure as a society in terms of income, we would have to classify ourselves as losers until the end of time,” declares Peñalosa. “So with our limited resources, we have to invent other ways to measure success. This might mean that all kids have access to sports facilities, libraries, parks, schools, nurseries.”

Extending that idea later in the piece, the analyst David Burwell of  Project for Public Spaces describes Peñalosa’s perspective: “He views cities as being planned for a purpose—to create human well-being.”

Full article here: Can We Design Cities For Happiness?