The thing about Home is...

...the weather is schizo. Rainstorms and then sunshine.

...there is a store in the mall that sell things only sold on TV.

...there are commercial breaks every seven minutes on television.

...people are nervous about the economy. Houses everywhere are being repossessed and the malls were packed with people returning things, but not buying.

...I like having a car.

...my mum has an Omega shiatsu massage chair that works you over like a masseur. I've named it. We're in love.

...it's familiar and foreign at the same time.

The sun is out, and the that's the novelty of this trip. Bright, clear, cool but changeable and I think another storm is on the way.

The economy is the topic of every conversation. Almost everyone has been affected in one way or another. The flat next door has been repossessed and is unlikely to be the only one in the area. Stores are closing. The sales are extreme but still not driving people to spend.

We have quiet Christmases. There are no children. Mum works and isn't done until Christmas afternoon. I cook for her. We ate prime rib and crab. We drank wine. We opened presents late in the afternoon and had a leisurely meal. There is a lot of extended family in the area, but we have our quiet informal celebration.

My mum stunned us with a story about a man she was engaged to when she met my father. We never knew she was engaged to someone else. Or that she was a nanny. Or really what life in the midwest in the early 60s was like. How strange to know so little about one's parents before we were around. Still there is something new to learn from sitting and talking about life experience's over a bottle of wine.

It's nice to be able to share a relaxing holiday with family. So many have to deal with familial drama and emotional battle. People are driven to vent anyway they can (including Facebook status updates). I think we dealt with all of our drama years ago. We are comfortable in each other's presence now. That is a blessing.

As is seeing friends. Being made jealous by their lives, loves, interests and passions. How wonderful to see people thrive and enjoy life. And to rekindle familiar friendships based on long intersecting threads of memories.

Midway through the trip I'm content. And that's good.

Fries with your brand?

People are lining up, apparently, for Tokyo's new unbranded quarter-pounder restaurants, a kind of Muji fast food with only two menu items.

I wonder if businessmen sleep in them in the early hours of the morning as well.

The Taj Mahal hotel, Mumbai

It was almost exactly a year ago that I visited Mumbai, that I sat and had coffee with a colleague in the salon of this hotel which is now the the scene of devastating terrorism. One tries to not let the memory of a place be completely rewritten, but the sight of the burning hotel and the violent chaos is now overlaid on the memory of Mumbai's sights, smells and noises.

Movember

An odd ode to the moustache as we celebrate a month of cheesy Facebook profile pictures and laughable attempts at facial hair growth albeit for the good cause of highlighting men's health issues. But let's be honest, that's not why men are growing them. It's to see if they can.

I didn't do it. I look like a civil servant with a moustache.

When is a teacup a storm?

The numbers story of the size and impact of Motrin-gate. Did Motrin do the right thing in pulling the ad after 'baby-wearing' mums tweeted in outrage?

As seen on the web this week

Good.is Great info graphics
Europeana.eu: The greatest hits of European culture
The argument for top-to-bottom customer experience strategy
ITV's product placement code of conduct

Sao Paulo

This is the Octavio Frias bridge (from Wikipedia) and an image of all of the contradictions nd wonder I experienced in a brief and busy business trip to Sao Paulo.

The year-old bridge was built to ease the heaving traffic over the Pinheiros river. Traffic which occurs at all hours and is a common moan of the Paulistanos I met.

My less impressive pictures were taken quickly my own pictures from the hotel room and from cars.

Sao Paulo is a huge, sprawling city of high rise buildings interspersed with low single story houses and many precarious 'shanty' towns - entire communities living in plyboard and metal-walled warrens. It is urban, and without the dramatic landscape of Brazil's better known city, Rio. It is apparent there is no urban planning, no zoning, no delineation between commercial and residential. There is, however, an enormous economic gap in Sao Paulo, Brazil's wealthiest city but with many living in poverty, on the sides of roads, selling peanuts and drinks at traffic lights. We stayed in the business district, Morumbi, but even near our luxury hotel were the shanty towns and roadside bars. There was a garage selling tires and cachaca served by a man with a gun holster slung over his shoulder. Paulistanos are concerned for their personal safety. Many business professionals ride in armoured cars and do not talk about having children for fear of kidnapping. Yet for all of the social and economic problems, what I carry with me from Sao Paulo was how cosmopolitan the city was and how gracious our hosts were.

Visiting any city on business is deceptive. One usually travels from the hotel to office towers to nice restaurants and back. One has to learn about a place from unguarded moments and from the people one meets. Our colleagues in Sao Paulo were warm, funny, cosmopolitan and proud of their city (even if a few can't wait to get out of it.) Kissing is customary. Upon being introduced to a business colleague of the opposite sex a kiss is given on the cheek right away. Kissing is also a popular pastime of the young and there was mouthwash in every restroom I went to. As one could imagine, the Brazilians are a very sensual people. It is in the language, music, food and more.

One of many quirks of Sao Paulo (and maybe Brazil) is that a drive in isn't a place one takes a car to see a movie (this got a big laugh from a colleague) but a cheap place one takes a car (and a partner) to have intercourse in parking spaces enclosed by curtains. We didn't visit one, but that's what I was told. You've been warned.

It is through food, of course, that one experiences a place on a business trip. Brazilians love salgadhinos (appetizers). We ate bacalau (fried balls of salted codfish), hearts of palm, farofa ( a mushy pate made from manioc flour, eggs and other things), empadas, fried puffs of cheese bread, mangos and other tropical fruits and an exhausting Churrascaria meal.

Churrascarias are Brazilian steakhouses. One sits with a red and green card. If the green side is up, waiters carrying various types of barbequed meat on skewers descend. We ate at one of the most popular, Fogo de Chao. Within minutes our plates were filled with all types of grilled steak, deliciously salted kidneys, chicken, lamb, and more; and within minutes I had flipped the card over to red to ease the bombardment and to marvel at a plate full of mindnumbing, stomach cramping, but delicious beef and organ meat. Eaten, of course, with caipirinhas or beer. It was the most gluttonous meal I've had in a long time. And the next day, I felt sluggish. But there were client meetings and long flights home to be had.

So, my first trip to South America, and indeed the Southern Hemisphere although guarded and business-orientated was a success.

Lee Bryant on Web 2.0 Expo

Interesting thoughts about small, purpose-led social networks halfway down the page.

I remain convinced that intimacy and common purpose are more in line with the culture of the internet than mega-malls like Facebook, where funders are more interested in achieving a ridiculous $15bn valuation for the company than in changing peoples' lives for the better.

Eyecandy

I can't believe Spooks killed off the sexiest man on television. True to form, they've replaced him with another, Richard Armitage.

Yah, it's been a long, dry Autumn.

The time changed

As hopefully most of you know.
I knew it was changing, what I didn't know, because I was working late, was that the clock on my mac changed automatically, so I assumed I had an early more to sleep when, instead, I was working an hour later than planned.

The time changed

As hopefully most of you know.
I knew it was changing, what I didn't know, because I was working late, was that the clock on my mac changed automatically, so I assumed I had an early more to sleep when, instead, I was working an hour later than planned.

Is laughter the best medicine?

I'm trying laughter meditation. Go on. I dare you not to laugh.

Seriously, five minutes twice a day is starting to work wonders...

Not curing my blocked ear, however.

Still blocked

I flew to New York with a cold. And suffered a congested head because of it. Turns out it was my eustachian tubes and they're still blocked. I've popped pills, irrigated nasal passages, sniffed sprays and nothing's working.

If anyone has any ideas let me know. I'm starting to dread the flights I've got coming up.

David Armano on the agency path to enlightenment

David Armano produces briliant diagrams. This one, and its Cannes piss up nirvana was timely indeed.

I came in to the office to work, but little work is being done. My mind's flitting about, my attention unspanned. So much to do and so little focus. Only three of the six jobs have been crossed off the list.

Instead, I've mucked around with this template. I've cleaned my desk. I've unsubbed to emails I no longer read. I've surfed for solutions for managing the tangle of wires in my flat. I've read the Sunday papers online. Even daydreamed a bit.

There was a lot I meant to do this weekend, but blame cheap wine and an Italian for kicking it off in an spectacularly unproductive manner.

Time to go home. I've procrastinated as much as I could.

Make it a pencil

D&AD 2009 awards call for entries is now open.

D&AD has been awarding creatively continuously since 1962. Alternatively lauded then derided for its expanded international focus and relevance in an industry in love with booze-ups on the French Riviera it is still dedicated to creative excellence and in educating and training new (and old) practioners. And that's pretty damn cool.

Full disclosure: I'm on the D&AD executive council. Further disclosure: I'm not necessarily opposed to booze-ups anywhere, especially on the Riviera, but come on.

Experienced - an experiment

I should have done this years ago.

Welcome to Experienced, my blog about digital and visual culture. A place for me to shape and share observations on two aspects of culture that have long interested me. An exercise in discipline where I'll be posting weekly essays and random things that capture my attention. Another stage for professional ego.

It will be truly random. I don't have a curriculum in my head. I've not yet narrowed areas of interest. So join along for the ride, forgive the occasional diversion, and feel free to share with others.

Experienced - an experiment

I should have done this years ago.

Welcome to Experienced, my blog about digital and visual culture. A place for me to shape and share observations on two aspects of culture that have long interested me. An exercise in discipline where I'll be posting weekly essays and random things that capture my attention. Another stage for professional ego.

It will be truly random. I don't have a curriculum in my head. I've not yet narrowed areas of interest. So join along for the ride, forgive the occasional diversion, and feel free to share with others.

Today I'm 40

Hmmmmm. Let's see how this goes.

Kelly's packed the day. Brunch. A boat ride around Manhattan. A play. Dinner at Balthazar.

At least I'm in New York with plenty of distractions (even with my congested head.)

I've been dreading this, and now it's here.....

DESIGN CULTURE: Brian Oakes and I.O.U.S.A

An interview with Brian Oakes, the information designer behind the amazing graphics from a documentary about the dire state of the US trade deficit, I.O.U.S.A.

Croatia

The island of Brac is a 45-minute ferry ride from the city of Split. I'm sitting in my hotel room looking at Split and the towering granite cliffs above it from across the Adriatic. The Adriatic is a stunning blue, but now reflects the hazy clouds that sit above it. It's pleasantly warm, the hotel is comfortable enough (although garishly mediterranean) and I'm glowing from the sun - not quite tanned, but glowing.

Supetar is the main town on the island. It is, like most mediterranean ports, all about tourism. The hotels, the souvenir shops, the restaurants all cater towards the flip flop and sarong-wearing throngs of people. There is a surprisingly similarity to everything - one can find the same hats, towels, beach mats, souvenirs up and down the Dalmatian coast. There is very little uniqueness to the place. Every restaurant (even the 'authentic' konobas) sell the same food: spaghetti, seafood salads, grilled meats and chips. The only unique food item I've seen are what the Greeks would call koftes, but what the Croatians call cevapcici, 'meat fingers.' It's good food, but dull in its repetitiveness.

Most of the c, s, and z should have a small circonflex or v-shaped accent, but I've no idea how to do so in HTML. The language, full of consonants and accents is a mystery to me, but every now and then one sees a latin root to a word and can associate its meaning, even if one has no idea how it's pronounced.

The terrain (and I saw a lot of it yesterday in a 10 hour drive up and down the Dalmatian coast to Dubrovnik) is rocky. Growths of pine and fig trees keep it green, but there is a light rock everywhere. In Brac, this rock, a type of granite, is famous for it's white purity. So much so that some of it was used in the American White House and stone carvers from Brac (which has an accent mark and is pronounced 'Brach') were sent to Washington.

The people are lovely. The hosts of the hotel have been very welcoming. The tourists seem to come from all over and the European cliches apply (pasty Anglos, sun worshipping Italians, Germans in too small speedos.) But everyone is jolly enough.

I'm lazing about. Yesterday was a 16 hour schlep to and from Dubrovnik so I'm wiped out and am sitting on the balcony dozing. I'm going to continue to do so while I can.

Loving London Bridge

Moody and dark, the pictures, that is.

I once bought a book because of the cover. And it was one of the best books I've ever read. So there.

A very long slide into autumn

We are not just not going to have any sort of summer, are we...

Dhafer Youssef at the ROH Voices of the World Festival

This is an oud. It's an Arabic lute that Tunisian composer and singer Dhafer Youssef strums, picks, attacks like a rock guitar, pounds like a drum, even sings into to produce a looped echo. He opened the Royal Opera House's Voices Across the World festival last night along with Armenian doudouk master Lévon Minassian and Japanese percussionist Satoshi Takeishi for an evening of haunting and timelessly modern music. Can't get much more world music than that. I highly recommend his album Divine Shadows which also highlights his amazing voice (a deep plaintive wail that can climb to a pure falsetto he produces through his nostrils.)

Lest you think I'm more worldly than I am, it was Tim's initiative to go.

I can't recall the last time I spent a Sunday evening swaying in a gentle breeze in the courtyard of a 16th century mansion watching a Scottish band play sweet pop songs two decades old whilst the seagulls cried overhead and the stagelights cast colourful shadows on the old architecture.



As an early bday present, Tim and I saw the Blue Nile last night at Somerset House. Matt Hale (aka Aqualung and shockingly fresh-faced for a 34 year old) stood in front of us. We saw Will Mellor at dinner. But the highlight was still Paul Buchanan's pleading voice singing 'Downtown Lights'.



And I didn't wake up a year older.

Collision

Alex Ross writes about two of my current interests: China and classical music, in this brilliant New Yorker article.

Waterfalls in New York

Olafur Eliasson is becoming one of my favourite artists. Wish I could see the waterfalls in New York.

Yazoo in concert

They were awesome!

London Bridge, falling down

Found a flat in London Bridge.
Urban and lively.
Shorter commute to work.
No view, but better storage.
Nervewracking and exciting.

If you were wondering where I've been...

The clever folks at OgilvyOne recently completed the hat trick of winning British Airways' global direct and loyalty marketing account as well as their digital marketing in Asia Pacific, Europe and Africa in the last nine months. I was the digital planning lead.

It meant six months of hardcore pitching, presenting and planning but all efforts were worth it and we won one of the largest and certainly most interesting accounts in the network. Now, the work begins...

Out of place = new

I am reminded by John Maeda that feeling out of place is an opportunity to learn something new.

I am very out of place in the bars of New York; watching younger, fitter, more stylishly aware, more adventurous young adults and their admirers on a Friday night in a Hell's Kitchen bar. It seemed overwhelmingly out of place, but now I look back on it as an experience: to feel that carefree energy of young people on a Friday night. To remember how that felt and how much fun it was and to be glad of where I am in my life. To observe and feel and experience without judgment.

New York

The Royalton / The W.
The Odeon / Shula's / Martinis.
Therapy / Posh / Vlada.
Mark and Richard.
Rajus / Claire.
Chris.
Patti LuPone in Gypsy.
Central Park / Times Sq.
Charles.
Dan.
Community Food.
Rain.
Home.

I happen to like New York

What's not to like?

It's in the 70s (20s), sunny. Meetings have been breezy and informative. Catching up with friends Mark, Rajus, Chris has been lovely. A couple of shows. More than a couple martinis, great restaurants and a selection of museums. Civilised and lovely.

But could I live here? I still don't know. The throngs of people are intense and unmovable. The bustle is cacophonous. The staccato full volume voices are harsh to the anglicised ear. I would be in perpetual need of a nap.

Never say never and never not say no.

On being evicted

The landlord has sold this flat so after three years, and the longest residency of my adult life, I need to find a new place to live.

At first I was blue. The tedium of finding a new flat, moving, getting cable and Broadband and whatnot up and running. I liked this flat with its modern impracticalities, it's undeniable conveniences, thick soundless walls, amiable concierges, dishwasher, and cosiness.

But then the construction work started at 8am on Saturday and I got over it.

Now, I'm more violet. This flat always was too small. I'm not particularly fond of Edgware Road. It's time for something new.

The real bugger is that had this happened last month, work would've paid for a relocation agent.

So after the long weekend and a week in New York I need to start flathunting again. Decide where and what. I'm thinking London Bridge, South Kensington or St. John's Wood. Near or on the Jubilee Line and a quick hop to work.

Now I'm a photographer

Well, online, anyway.

Schmap published a photo I shot of the Catacombs in Paris.

Blackberry make an iPhone

New Blackberry Bold looks an awful lot like...an iPhone

Genius idea

The Get Out Clause, a Manchester band has to make a new video, but doesn't have any money. What do they do? They perform in front of more than 80 CCTV cameras in Manchester, then petition the government for the video under the Freedom of Information act. Very smart. You can watch the video here.

Muxtape

Remember mix tapes? The hours that went into listing, organising and recording the perfects songs onto a cassette tape (usually for someone you wanted to shag the bones off of?)

Well, here's the digital version: Muxtape

Shagging not included.

Isabel Fonseca was partly wrong. Those times when one is in the wrong place at the wrong time are very painful. Those times when duty and desire wish you to be in another place make the distance very keenly felt.

On self-exile

"It’s more an idea than anything else...and that’s probably ideal. It’s handy living in the wrong place.” Isabel Fonseca

BA's new Heathrow terminal

Disclaimer: British Airways is a client, but they've not paid me to say this!

We flew in and out of T5, BA's new Heathrow terminal this week to Miami. It was a marvel. The terminal is light and open and not rushed. Everything worked as planned and we flew and flew back with our luggage! The lounge was lovely, the tram to the gate fast and efficient. It is a remarkable terminal. I know BA have had teething problems with the terminal but I didn't experience any of it. Once they've overcome the problems they've had we should be really proud of it.

Cheering thought of the day

'Our civilisation suffers from vital exhaustion.' Michel Houellebecq, Whatever, 1999

Got over myself already

I know. What a moan. Still, sometimes those thoughts need to live somewhere else so they don't rattle around my head. And it has been a crap month in many ways. Saying goodbye to friends, working too hard and too inefficiently, in the cold and gloom of Winter. I'll be glad when the month is over.

So don't fret. I acknowledge the darkness so I can see the light and there's plenty of light indeed.

Reading Alex Ross' phenomenal The Rest is Noise. It's turned me onto some 20th Century music I hadn't considered: Schoenberg, Copland, Mahler. I recommend it highly, although it's a lug of a book.

A snowing day

Gloomy. This quartet of frozen Sundays. The world on the verge of seasons. The soul in an endless Winter.
How can a flicker of green mark such a void? Its hypnotic heart, a taunt, a promise.

Is it my weakness I only hear the dark frequencies, the minor keys, the laments? Hiding away from the shimmering. The world and its furious dance. Yet still surprised by solitude. The recurrent theme, the comforting and abiding surrender.

I wished it away. Was that wrong? To reject what had so embraced me. To reach beyond a realm into the light that filled with wild ideas and aspirations. I willed a change. I tasted it. It frightened me. I diluted it until its bitter drug dragged me back and its withdrawal contaminated the waking dreams.

I feed that darkness, its greed and its demanding mouth, the glimmer of lights that once guided me. The beacon I yearn for flickers and is no more.

Easter Break

Six days off. What am I going to do with myself?

Chris' last day was yesterday. I will miss him.

It was a beautiful sunny day today, until the sky went dark and it rained and haled. We're in for some weather this weekend.

Reading Alex Ross' the Rest is Noise.

And now going to watch movies in my jammies.

Today's horoscope

You are tired of gathering more and more information and today you may just want to give up. Instead of making a significant decision right away, try postponing it until you have all the necessary facts.

Amen.

Paris

No, I haven't been. (And why haven't I? It's been ages.)

The Guardian ran a sweet little audio tour of Belleville, a 'bobo' neighbourhood in Paris.

I'm reading Paris: A secret history by Andrew Hussey.

And tonight I might have a glass of wine.

Comic Sans is a crime

The design police are here.

The algae's greener on the other side

Yesterday, I was tempted to give into self-pity, to believe that my life (work)is hard and thankless. I then saw a documentary about the marine iguana who has to brave the rocky shores and crashing waves of a volcanic Galapagos island to forage for the only food he can find: green algae that grows on the seabed. As if getting in and out of the violent ocean isn't hard enough, he has to brave seals that don't eat the iguana but play a cat and mouse game by dragging the iguana by its tail through the water. Unfortunately, he can only stay in the water for ten minutes before his body temperature drops, his muscles become paralysed and he drowns.

Suddenly, my life doesn't seem too hard.

Now I know

Now I know how much a magnum of Veuve Clicquot costs. I know how much two magnums cost.

What I don't know is how I'm going to pay rent this month.

Crikey.

Saw the London Philharmonic Orchestra last night at the Royal Festival Hall. Vladimir Ashkenazy conducted two works by Prokofiev, Symphony no. 1 and Concerto no.2, Debussy's Prelude a l'apres midi d'un Faune, and Bacchus and Ariane by Albert Roussel.

It was an excellent evening and the highlight was the superhuman performance of the Concerto by Yvgeny Kissin. It was athletic, graceful, monumental and the crowd loved it, giving Kissin six ovations.

The real surprise was the Bacchus by Roussel. I'd never heard it before. It's a stunning piece of music and was beautifully played.

Oh yeah, this is my year of culture.

According to Great Circle Mapper, I flew almost 41,000 miles in 2007.

And boy, were my arms tired.