Author: gregflory
Husband. Father. XD.
The Love/Hate Design Theory
While still recovering from six days and five nights in Barcelona this weekend (which is more like 10, 24-hour days in most other cities–they really know how to squeeze every second out of a day), I decided to kick start my reading and catch up on some lapsed Netflix viewing. A Bottle Rocket colleague, Steve Clements, had recently recommended the documentary series, Abstract: the Art of Design, and last night I watched episode 2, Tinker Hatfield: Footwear Design. In the show, Tinker talks about his life and evolution as a shoe designer for Nike, with a focus on his time working on the Air Jordan line. Plenty of context also, including his relationship with Nike founder Bill Bowerman, who obviously had a profound role in shaping his life and career.
Besides virtually all of Spain, Mr. Hatfield has what may be the most amazing life on the planet. From his family, to surfing the Pacific, long boarding and scootering through Portland, working in amazing spaces with smart, dedicated people on one of the world’s most recognised and desired brands. But he certainly earned it. You don’t achieve iconic status without investing heavily and sacrificing. His dedication to doing things his own unique way resulted in some of the industry’s most celebrated innovations and products. Cross training and self-lacing shoes, as well as the Air Jordan line to name a few.
There are several points he makes about design that merit special mention. First, the point of design and designers actually solving problems. The best designers are not people who wander around in some near-hallucinogenic creative state, wrestling ingenious and cool ideas from the ether. They are often deeply analytical people who drive to the root of the issue, problem or challenge and work tirelessly to find an imaginative solutions–often bit-by-bit, hour-by-hour for weeks and months on end. Occasionally, they reframe the root problem in a way that entirely redefines the way we think about what we are trying to achieve entirely, taking the design from an iterative shift to a transformative leap.
Tinker also speaks about helping tell a story. The narrative of sneakers and performance athletic apparel is clearly driven by the story of the signature athlete. And part of his work was interpreting the spirit and legacy of his primary athlete-partner/muse, Michael Jordan.
My favourite line in the episode was near the end when Tinker says, “If people don’t love or hate your work, you haven’t done that much.”
To that I will say, do much.
A recollection
My uncle died last night. Not a good start if we seriously think there is a need to make America great again. Wonderful human, and an example of what is good about our country.
Gene was a quite, gentle soul who preferred to let others shine–particularly my late aunt, Agnes. They were a great couple, raising a wonderful family and I always looked forward to seeing them. Our families shared as many Thanksgivings as possible, and those will always be some of the fondest memories I have.
I found him to be a wry observer of the moment and now have a huge appreciation for his remarkable ability to be in good spirits. A veteran of WWII, like many of that generation, he did his duty then came home and demonstrated the same spirit throughout the rest of his life. Building a family. Serving his community. Growing the economy. Suffering loss with quiet dignity and strength.
Gene taught me to drive a standard or “stick,” bouncing around a deserted San Antonio mall parking lot in is TR-6. His gentle rebuke of my overaggressive shifting delivered deadpan: “Now Greg, if that’d been a woman, she would have slapped you.” That was back when stores remained closed on Thanksgiving day. We’d be dodging hordes of anxious shoppers today, which wouldn’t happen because even as generous as he was with me, he knew I had no business around any other cars or pedestrians. I have been meaning to buy an old 6 for years because I have such fond memories of those few moments together in that tiny car.
I visited he and Agnes my senior year in high school, and on a trip to the Museum of Science and Industry, we somewhat reluctantly dined at the featured Indian cafe in the basement. This was a choice that all three of us regretted, but it was a moment that never failed to work itself into conversation whenever we would see each other over the next 30+ years, usually with either him or I asking if we’d like go get some Indian food for dinner. “Are you sure? What about some mango ice cream?” Narrowed eyes, thin lips then laughter. Ironically, I have grown to like some Indian food during my time in London. I never got the chance to share my culinary conversion. But that is the least of my regrets since I rarely saw him the past 10 years. I had every opportunity and just didn’t.
A christian. An American. A mason. A Texan. A gentleman. A craftsman (though he probably would not agree with that point). Husband, father, brother, grandfather, friend. And uncle. An amazing uncle–precisely who you should think of whenever you hear the words “favourite uncle.”
Thank you for sharing this planet with us, Gene. We are better for knowing you and sharing those too infrequent moments. You will be mourned, celebrated and remembered always.
Protected: Hunter, Allison & Brooke
An Argument for Awe
Nothing is awesome in London. Use that term and you will literally hear people’s eyes roll. Objects, ideas, situations, people, events and a broad assortment of other spontaneous delights or bits of quickly recognised genius are frequently proclaimed, brilliant or massive.
“That is a massive opportunity.” Or simply, “It’s massive.”
“That is a brilliant scarf, darling.” And, “She is absolutely brilliant.”
But I will argue that London itself is awesome. In pieces and on the whole, this city never ceases to amaze. Gazing down at the river, out across the rooftops and toward a countryside you can envision but can’t see, you could be held in place for hours. Back at street-level, ambling across the pavement, it would be a disservice if your head was not on a swivel because there is always something worth noticing even if you’re unsure of the precise import.
So many scars from World War II, often in the form of church towers with no accompanying church. Plenty to give pause and inspire thoughts of what it must have been like to have hell rained down on you, your home and community. Uncertainty amidst the beauty and ruin. But always a sense of enduring importance–an undisturbed timelessness.
Londoners probably don’t consciously think about the wonders of their surroundings as frequently as a visitor, but it still must happen on a pretty regular basis. Yes, even amidst the detritus and decay of a bustling urban centre where people and pigeons commingle, you should occasionally be a tourist. Look up at the more modern buildings (if you can escape the Shard’s watchful peak, you are sneakier than I am). Look down the river at the Tower Bridge. Stop and read the plaques.
If you are not frequently struck with wonder in this city, you have no sense of it.
Human Experience (HX)
I’m tired of calling it User Experience. And I don’t think that Customer Experience is a great compromise either. They both tend to encourage thinking about people as one-dimensional objects rather than the impossibly complex design challenge humans actually represent. In the prevailing lexicon, they are either the faceless beings using a piece of technology on which we are currently focused (perhaps worse, the glimmering stock-photoed, impossibly perfect and perfectly shallow personas we engineer). Or they are our customers. Both, the monolithic constructs of unnecessarily limited imaginations.
The app, site or touchpoint we are thinking about, is a small part of any person’s collective experience. And I can’t imagine that even the biggest brand fan thinks of themselves as solely your customer, except in very brief moments…and probably when they are aggrieved.
Our designs and products will exist in the much broader context and landscape of people’s lives–amidst all of the chaos, struggle, progress, glory and the general messiness of too many things competing for too little available attention. We are probably the tiniest sliver of that panorama. So, while I’m not generally concerned about wordsmithing as an exercise in being nice and protecting people’s feelings, perhaps acknowledging the broader reality will expand my thinking, even if just a bit. I need all the help I can get uncovering blindspots.
And, yes, I’m part of the problem too. While I have never been a huge fan of the term user, it rolls right off my tongue 100 times a day. And I’m using the tags in this post to increase reach. I’m using user, in a sense.
So let’s see how this grand experiment goes.
That is all.
London, Week 3
I’ve been in London approximately 3 weeks–more than a fortnight–and there’s a lot to love. I took advantage of the great weather yesterday for a ramble around Covent Garden and Soho. Setting off from Southwark, crossing over Millennium Bridge (can you ever get tired of the St. Paul’s view as you walk across the Thames?) and then up to and west on Fleet St, and down to the Strand. Can’t quite tell you the route I took from there, mostly just guided by what looked interesting, with occasional diversions across the street to take advantage of the sun.
Late afternoon lunch at the Soho location of Burger & Lobster made what was already an interesting day, brag-worthy. Conceptually, I love the juxtaposition of lobster (the very ideal of haute for most Americans), with the humble burger. And in execution, it was brilliant.
If you’re not familiar with the the menu, you get your choice of a burger, grilled lobster or a lobster roll for £20–complete with frites and salad. I’ve been mostly “meh’ed” by burgers during my time and visits here, and wasn’t particularly enamoured with the idea of letting the glorious day down. So I ordered the lobster roll…and almost immediately regretted it upon seeing the plates of grilled lobster delivered to the adjacent table of giggling 20-something tourists. [For the record, I know I’m not a proper Londoner, but I do feel as though I hold the moral high ground over run-of-the-mill tourists. After all, I have a Biometric Residence Permit. And actually know how to pronounce Southwark.] But it proved an excellent choice. Salad, chips, and the lobster roll itself with a crazy good butter sauce that I want to put on everything I eat from now until I am feeble and have to be spoon-fed–at which point you can just give me a straw and a jug full of the sauce. Amiable and attentive staff and a loud, happy atmosphere.
Quite a few of the shops in and around Covent Garden (both near the market and surrounding streets) can be found in any suburban American mall or trendy strip centre, but it feels different. I’m guessing it’s the ready supply of unique and/or quirky independent stores and boutiques which add plenty of local flavour. And while not typically a fan of crowds, I had no problem politely enduring the bumps and jostles navigating the packed streets, squares and pavements.
Before starting my exploration in earnest, I had stopped by the Globe in the morning and managed to pick up a yard ticket for the evening’s opening performance of Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. Quite possibly the best use of £5. While my feet and back may have argued differently after the 3 hours of standing, the mind and spirit can make a more compelling case.
A very fun place to experience a play, and a very fun play to experience the place.
You don’t just watch in the Globe’s yard. You are in the middle of the performance–occasionally a part of the performance.
I highly encourage you to give this play a try in its current run, even if you intermittently struggle, as I did, with the formality of the 400 year-old dialogue. No matter that most of us were raised on TV sitcom reruns and predictable, Hollywood plot lines, the essential narrative is accessible. Quite interesting, gender-bending, Indian-fusion version of the play, different from my dim recollection of several other takes in the murky past. Likely enjoyable for true Shakespeare fans, but also thoroughly engaging for novices, with nice injections of relatable, contemporary popular culture. The play, directed by Emma Rice, is a clear window into the past that also sheds light on the timeliness and relevance of Shakespeare’s art, even today. How nicely, the basic theme of the work can be adapted to a more modern time and still lighten hearts.
Methinks the artful malleability of Shakespeare’s work, in form and spirit as touching an inheritance as when originally delivered, could a lesson give to the strict Constitutionalists in my homeland across the Atlantic.
foreign & familiar 