Posted on

Finding the bright side of Vegas

To be honest, Las Vegas isn’t my kind of town. I’m not much into gambling, shopping, spas, or shows…and that leaves pretty much just food. Oh, and one of my oldest and best friends, who is the reason I occasionally visit this gaudy, ridiculously hot town.

One thing Vegas does have that speaks to my design soul is neon. And the best place to see vintage goodness is at the Neon Boneyard, a dusty outdoor refuge for signs sacrificed to continuous reinvention. Here you not only see the gorgeous colors, typography, and artistry of the signs themselves but also the accidental, layered compositions created by stacking them in. Since my last trip, they’ve restored enough to have nighttime tours which is very cool (as well as cooler, literally).

Posted on

Fried Egg season

A neighbor has a grove of Matilija poppies. I love how happy and weird these fried eggs on stems are, just waving around in the breeze.

Posted on

Visiting Wes Anderson’s Desert Dream

Review: Wes Anderson's Asteroid City | Time

Don’t be surprised if you walk into my house one day and find that it feels a little like Wes Anderson’s Asteroid City. (I’m halfway there already with my color palette.) It’s a film worthy of many rewatches, not for the story but to live in that creamy, dreamy, surreal desert diorama for another hour and forty-five minutes.

Wes Anderson's New Film Takes Inspiration from This Quaint Madrid Town - Softonic
Martini With A Twist In Asteroid City (2023)

The desert is my soul home, so I’m a sucker for the landscape and motifs as it is. But from the gorgeous suite of colors to the Looney Tunes backdrop, the creative direction of Asteroid City is truly stunning. It’s a work of art. Every frame is a beautiful, dynamic composition. The costuming signals character and builds an immersive world. There’s whimsy in every vending machine, auto shop prop, and road to nowhere.

I was especially taken by the lighting, which is overwhelmingly bright yet lush — not surprising as they used the sun as a primary light source. There’s a picnic scene staged under a lattice pergola, casting dappled light on the conversations. It’s not only visually interesting, but there’s something about the grid of shadow and light…half hidden, half exposed…checkered. Can’t quite put my finger on why this feels so important. Maybe I don’t have to explain it, it’s okay to simply enjoy it.

Off to rewatch!

Posted on

Designed to Do More

Allsteel was a deep brand project for my team at Bounteous — over many months we listened to buyers and partners, mapped every moment in the client journey, envisioned the brand shift they sought, and ultimately delivered a strategy and tagline of Designed to Do More. With the unveiling of their new Experience Center in Chicago, I’m thrilled to see it live in the world. Check out this video tour!

So many of the insights we uncovered are reflected in this new center. This is the larger, more inspiring space that the architects and designers craved. It welcomes more collaboration, which is needed to conceive and deliver complex, human-centered environments. It embodies more flexibility and ways to reinvent when needs change. It showcases more thoughtful details that reflect how thoughtful Allsteel is about creating spaces and designs.

It is an experience designed to do more. Congratulations to Allsteel and the HNI family!

Posted on

Spring Blooms

While not much of a gardener, I will always stop to talk to the flowers.

Posted on

Grief on grief

Last year my long-term relationship evaporated overnight. While I can’t say there were no warning signs, they were certainly faint.

Silver linings from that have been similarly faint. But one upside has emerged in the wake of another painful loss — my mother, the other most important person in my life, died this fall. The warnings signs were louder this time, though the end was still very sudden.

Sadly, because of that earlier grief, I am more prepared for this one.

It doesn’t lessen this new pain, of course. How I wish it did! What it did do was show me how deep grief works so that I was not so surprised this time around. Surprised by how the early shock makes you think it might not be so bad. How the waves overtake you in small moments when the conscious mind lets go. How continuously exhausted you can be simply from feeling so much. How every time you think you’ve hit bottom you find out you were wrong and there’s farther to fall.

Having foreknowledge has helped me be steady on my feet so I can support my father, who is thoroughly surprised by all this. Less than two months in, it is only getting worse for him just as he thought it would be getting better. Yet for all my understanding I can’t fix any of this, for him or for me.

Posted on

Expanding my mental map

Yesterday a friend was telling me how computer games only render the rooms we are in to save memory, and that our brains aren’t so different. When we encounter something different or enter a new space, we force our minds to redraw the world around us even if all we do is go for a walk.

These days my world is smaller than usual. On my way home from a hospital visit a few hours later — for circumstances that are a big factor in my shrinking sphere — I discovered an unexpected new route through the big green blank on the map.

This tight, winding road took me through charming neighborhoods dotted with quaint buildings from generations past. Past rows of old growth trees bending over the road, and moneyed estates mixed with ranches that serve as a reminder of what the land once was. And finally into the open lands near my home that I have never explored. I’ve been meaning to find out what was over that hill, but my curiosity has been overwhelmed by overwhelm.

This ride was absolutely joyous. I couldn’t stop smiling! It expanded my map, literally and figuratively, just when I needed it most. I could attribute this to sheer coincidence, getting a message I needed at the right time. But I know this was not happenstance, it was my mind at work finding connections and meaning out of new information. Still, serendipity was evident in the weather — a mix of fluff and darkness, a little blue and sun persisting, the rain and dusk coming on fast. That perfect mirror of my life could not have been conjured by me.

Posted on

Of monsoons and mountains

Whoo! Back from a 1840 mile, 12 day solo driving trip home to Tucson. What a bittersweet trip, one of tears and mortality and also of life-affirming friendship and beauty and nature. The universe really came together on this one — my friend needed me, work didn’t, and being there is what I needed.

The sweet: Nowhere do I feel more calm and grounded than the Sonoran desert. It was unusually green and lush from the record monsoon season, and the desert welcomed me with beautiful sunsets and torrential rain and cooler temps. This desert speaks to my soul and being in it was a much needed balm. From the moment the terrain changed to a haze of striated, sharp mountains I knew I was in exactly the right place. This trip also coincided with a school reunion so a little extension made it possible to see old friends and celebrate still being here. And I bought some absolutely amazing art that will forever remind me of this trip and place.

The bitter? Well, first, this wasn’t a pleasure cruise. I was there to help a friend recovering from a distressing medical situation. (But spending time with her definitely goes in the sweet column!) There aren’t a lot of reasons I’d drive that far, but that’s one of them. Second, for years I talked about bringing my ex here, sharing my home with him and seeing it anew through his nature-loving eyes. We planned to hike here this winter. As I drove out through Gates Pass on the way to the Desert Museum and Saguaro National Park, tears flowed. I wanted so much to share these special places with him. He’d love it. There were a lot of miles alone with few distractions and I kept hitting pockets of grief. Third, I-5 is as unpleasant as I-10 is beautiful.

Soon I start a new job and I’m grateful to have had this time to connect with people and places that mean the world to me.

Posted on

Answering existential brand questions

Why do we exist? Where can we go? What do people want?

Despite working in a world where ROI and measurable outcomes rule the day, my favorite projects solve existential questions that defy quantification. I’ve had the privilege to explore and define the purpose of an urban library, the value of innovation in health care, and why an education based in Judaism matters. What could be better than that?!

Ultimately, I can’t prove that getting existential will improve a company’s bottom line. It’s an act of faith to believe that time spent bringing people together, clarifying possible futures, and aligning teams around a shared purpose and vision will pay off. But experience tells us it does. The outcomes are there, they are just on a different time and value scale.

Legendary brands build foundations that accelerate action. They see opportunities that others don’t. They rally and inspire people to join them. Yet none of this is found in a sprint — it comes from taking the time to observe, learn, and align. That’s where big questions are answered and sustainable greatness can be activated.