Reorganizing Cultural Categories at Denver Art Museum's "Blue & White: A Ceramic Journey"

There is a sense of comfort in familiar categories.  They enable us to perceive and organize our world without surprises.  As designers, the familiar is powerful - it can make learning simpler or allow us to present more meaning in simpler forms, because we can use familiar categories as part of our design vocabulary - birds mean this, bears mean that.  Blue is trustworthy, orange is exciting, green is go, red is stop.  Sans-serif is modern, serif is traditional.

But there is also design power in subverting the categories, reorganizing them, and creating new ones.  New organization structures stretch our minds, encourage examination of our assumptions, and restructure our cultural understandings in new and unexpected ways.

This is what happens at the "Blue & White" portion of the "Marvelous MUD: Clay Around The World" exhibit at the Denver Art Museum.  The museum generally divides their exhibits by culture: Asian Art is on the 5th Floor, then Japanese is separate from Chinese, etc.  This exhibit, however, is united across cultures by color.

From classical Chinese Blue and White ceramics, to Mexican, Vietnamese, Korean, Islamic, etc. the exhibit moves through multiple cultures and eras based on their common love of this color combination.  In one small room, you can compare the colors, the patterns, the shapes, etc across cultures and times in ways that wouldn't be possible across the culturally-based exhibit halls.

One of the most amazing exhibits I ever saw was John Cage's Rollywhollyover A Circus at the Philadelphia Art Museum in 1995.  Because each piece was placed randomly (on the wall, in time, in context) the juxtapositions were the heart of the meaning.  For example, one day the a picture of Stravinsky's foot from a music museum was set next to the painting from a painting from a podiatry center.  I've never forgotten either one, not because they were extraordinary on their own, but because their pairing was so absurd that it made them each more memorable.

In taking these leaps out of categories, a museum puts the work on the observers.  It asks them to find the connections and notice the differences, to create the patterns and find the value.  It doesn't dictate meaning, and in doing so, it creates a more interactive and conversation art experience.

Art isn't only about the piece, it's also about the context.  So you have to appreciate when a museum goes out of its way - and out of its categories - to design a new context.

Shostakovich Symphony #6: A Story for Children

It is clear to me that if one is bold enough to take one's child to the symphony, one needs some tales to spin.  Most recently, I took my son to the Denver Philharmonic to hear, among other things, Shostakovich's 6th Symphony.  And a story was needed.  This is not a symphony for the neophyte.  It doesn't lure you in with an exciting first movement, and it is, as my Russian professor used to say "Typical Russian music, unhappy and full of notes."

I. Largo

The first movement is long and very slow . . . not kid-friendly.  So here is where the story begins . . .

A decree has gone out from the king - everyone is to come to the central square for an announcement.  But Ben's mother is busy on their farm, so she sends him instead.  Off he goes, through the deep dark forest, to the city.  He walks very very slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible, but all around him are noises.  There are bugs and birds, and big lumbering noises that sound like elephants bashing through the trees.  Ben decides there are ghosts in the woods, and tries to walk even more quietly to escape their notice.  The forest walk goes on and on, so much longer than when he runs through it alongside his father.  It seems to take forever, but just as he thinks he can't stand the sounds of all these ghosts a second longer, it is done.

II. Allegro

Ben realizes that some of the noises he heard were just other people on other paths, coming toward the city.   Big lumbering carts, skipping children, plodding grandfathers, all merge onto a single path, hurrying and fretting, wondering what the king wants.  He walks faster, filled with more energy, and enjoying the sounds of the people around him.  There are policemen periodically, trying to keep everything orderly and moving along.  He follows different groups, listening to their conversations, enjoying all the bustle.  At last, they arrive at the square.

III. Presto

The king announces that he has called them all there for a dancing contest.  He will walk among them and give out prizes of sacks of gold.  The crowd goes wild, frenzied, trying to dance well enough to please the king.  They bump into each other, back off, and bump again.  The children, delighted to see all the adults in so much motion, flit in between legs.  The policemen try to dance, but seem too stiff.  The old men sway back and forth, stomping their feet and trying to maintain their dignity.  The dance continues as people fall out, rest, and come in again.  Through it all weaves the king, handing out prizes, seemingly arbitrarily, until suddenly no one can dance any more and the music stops.

Artistaday & GoogleArtProject: Getting My Daily Dose of Visual Chocolate

I love art, and I need a little dose of it every day to feed my mind, like dark chocolate for the eyes.  It pulls me back from my more utilitarian designs, refocuses my senses when they are tired of the everyday, and rejuvenates me.  I have worn out my copy of The Art Book.  I have collected postcards from half a dozen countries, since I couldn't always afford prints of art I loved.

Despite all this, I get overwhelmed by art museums.  The intensity of them, the depth, the crowds, it all gets to be too much very quickly.  So I long ago developed a system of visitation.  I come into a gallery and scan it, taking everything in from a distance.  Then I choose one or two pieces and go closer, concentrating on them.  I don't worry about viewing everything there, just about looking really closely at a few things.  It is also a great way to do museums with kids - each person picks their favorite in a room, and tours the other people's favorites, learning who likes what and why.

For my every day art fix, I have been using http://www.artistaday.com/.  It is a fascinating glimpse into contemporary artists, and allows me to save my favorites to my own gallery.  Sometimes weeks go by without anything that is gallery-worthy, but the accumulated set is a fun place to visit when I am looking for a little visual candy. 

But now, I have a new option: http://www.googleartproject.com/.  I still love my modern art, but this is an amazing exploration.  You can also create your own galleries here. It allows you to tour the museums by floor plan, so you have a sense of context, and also allows you to zoom in on the art itself, getting a sense of texture, layers, and technique that you couldn't get from a book.  You can visit galleries you've never been to, or go to museums you know well and see them with new eyes.   For example, I've been to the National Gallery in London several times, but either I didn't see it, or this was not a painting that caught my eye there: Mary Magdalene

In the online gallery, however, this painting blows me away.  I am drawn in by the complexity of the robes and love the sadness in her eyes.  It is a whole new perspective.  I am looking forward to having two ways to get my daily dose.

Dear Elitch Gardens: 5 ways to improve your experiential brand.

This weekend we headed to Elitch Gardens, an amusement park in downtown Denver.  We aren't really amusement park people, and one of us hadn't been to the 'new' Elitch's before (opened in 1995).  So we had pretty fresh eyes on the experience.

The biggest problem was a lack of partnership, a lack of interest in the experiential brand that every moment represents.

After a day spent - mostly - in line there, we have some ergonomic/design observations:

1.  Take a note from ski resorts, which put 'singles' into a separate line to fill out the lifts.  The Ferris Wheel had long lines because the operators would only put one party in a carriage, regardless of party size.  We live with each other on the lifts and in the lines, we can stand each other for one Ferris Wheel ride.  People who can't should have to wait separately.

2.  Put time indicators on the lines.  One ride had a sign at the 90 minute mark, but nothing else.  Estimates are helpful if people are trying to get to concerts or meeting spots and need to know if they can fit the ride in.

3.  Own the problems.  One ride had several broken cars, so a wait that might have been only 45 minutes was almost 2 hours.  Put up a sign that warns people of this - don't force them to stand in line until they have to leave, and then have them depart with a bad feeling about their experience and your brand.

4.  Be consistent.  There were all these signs up from the American Heart Association about exercise, healthy lifestyles, etc.  but it was impossible to get water at many food vendors.  When it was possible, you were punished for wanting to be healthy by getting half the liquid for the same price.  Let people pay to refill their souvenir bottles with water - what harm could it do you?

5.  Recognize that the whole experience affects your brand.  We came up on the train, and then made the huge mistake of taking the elevator up to the bridge over the tracks.  The only reason to take that elevator was to get to the park.  It was one of the most foul and disgusting public elevators I've ever been in, and that's saying something.  Not inside the park, but beginning our park experience by controlling our gag reflexes - and not in a good, adventure-ride way- was not fun and tainted the whole day.

Let there be light . . . the latest version

I am so happy about the Nokero solar bulb that I can't stop thinking about it.  It is a solar bulb, available as a replacement for the kerosene lamps that so much of world uses.  Those kerosene lamps are expensive, difficult to maintain, a fire hazard, and hard on the environment. 

Like the control of kerosene prices, I'm sure the solar lights will be controlled, and not necessarily by the most altruistic people.  Even the inventor sees the light as a money-making venture, not a charitable one.  But the life-improving potential of this simple design is stupendous.  This is a moment when you have to love design.


Engadget's article

The sugar canister

The best utilitarian designs are at once ubiquitous and invisible.  The sugar decanter is a prime example.  A lot of thought went into it - for cleanliness, unclog-ability, and simplicity of use.  We should take time to celebrate the wonders of these simple designs as well as those that take our breath away. http://bit.ly/9McURo

A dignified patient gown? With a cellphone pocket? Huh.

Hospital gowns with dignity - what a crazy idea! http://bit.ly/ceRTKm

I have learned from my mother that one of the main challenges to recovery in a long hospital stay is the lack of dignity and humanity of the experience.  You are prodded, rolled, poked, talked around, condescended to, belittled, and dismissed.  On top of that, you wear a demeaning gown with an open backend that constantly reminds you about just how low your life has gotten.  Anyone who isn't depressed by all this is either exceptionally strong, oblivious, or medicated.

So I love these new gowns for the NHS - they open on the side, so you aren't as exposed.  They come with a cell phone pocket for easy access to your support network.  And they have a soft fleecy blanket for extra comfort on a sensory level.  


Little design changes like this are comparatively affordable ways to improve outcomes, the end goal of all medical change.