San Francisco :: A Real Vacation:: Photos

Hi. I posted photos from the San Francisco trip to flickr.

http://flickr.com/photos/46205070@N00/

I'm almost finished writing the blog...hope to have the rest up soon.

San Francisco :: A Real Vacation :: Wednesday, 2008 October 8

I’ve long argued you can’t really get a great bagel out of New York…maybe Pikesville in the Baltimore area is close…or maybe New Jersey. I don’t know. But not in San Diego (though City Bagels is about as good as it gets, and certainly in the good range). But San Francisco…seemed like a bad idea. But I wanted something different than our veggie breakfasts of the past week, so why not give it a try? Close to our hotel, and rated about as good as it gets for bagels in San Francisco, Katz Bagels and Pizza seemed like a good breakfast option. Well, the name is Jewish, anyway. I got a pumpernickel bagel with some hummus, and Kim got poppy with lox and cream cheese. It was pleasant enough. Better than average. Not as good as Big City, but several notches above what passes for bagels most of the time. What was memorable about this place, though, was the patio in the back, where the skylights let in a lovely mid-morning light…a perfect spot for reading the paper and relaxing.

Of course, I have a hard time lounging around much on vacation. I’m not a sit around and relax kind of girl, at least in a city like San Francisco, where there are so many adventures to be had. So after a bit of paper-reading, we were off to Golden Gate Park, and to the newly-opened California Academy of Sciences. Kim’s back was feeling marginally better, so we elected to walk through the Panhandle, my running route for the week, and into park. It was fairly warm, but not completely unpleasant, and I remembered my camera for a change. The line for tickets was already extremely long, wrapping around stansions out the front of the building, but they had some automated ticket dispensers in the front of the museum. I thought I’d give it a try. Unfortunately, some Japanese college student tourists in front of me had experienced some problems with their credit cards in the machine, leaving an open order up, and when I went to purchase my order, I ended up purchasing their tickets…three, in fact. The ticket machine guardian, posted there just to help hopeless cases such as this, helped us negotiate a cash deal, and we all ended up with tickets…I even ended up profiting by a dollar. All was well.

The academy is quite amazing. It contains a planetarium, a 4-story rain forest, a green roof, and an aquarium. The signage and exhibit design was well-done overall, with some fine typography and use of materials in the signage. There were many words, descriptions, and narratives throughout, so the type help set the tone, transitioning from area to area, and generally, giving the space a sense of consideration. I do love the logo for it. Very smart and memorable, though the reversed version does remind me of another logo I saw in 2color Design by Templin Brink Design. Nonetheless, it is a good example of a successful modern, clean logo with a solid idea, so often missing in logo design for larger institutions. Good for them for placing value in the visual, perhaps realizing that part of their mission is to get out the word of the amazing work that is being done in the scientific world in ways all can connect with. While they still need to work out the bugs for the disbursing of tickets for the planetarium, which was confusing and time-consuming at best, but the overall experience of the place is one of wonder and joy, bringing together the analytical and the unexplainable, the greatest thinking of our time and the simple aesthetic beauty of our world.

The rainforest spirals up 4 stories, allowing you to see how the rainforest changes into different ecosystems as it approaches the sun. The green roof allows in beautiful natural light, luminating the glass bottom of the forest, underneath of which is the aquarium. My favorite part of the rainforest was really the butterflies. Call me girlie, but I love butterflies. There is something about the way they move that is the visual equivalent of pure, innocent, joy. The opportunity to see so many different species in such a small space is rare and special. Sure, the birds and flowers and lizards and frogs were all beautiful. But it was the butterflies that really made me love that rainforest.
Once at the top of the 4 stories, you enter an elevator and go underneath the rainforest into the aquarium. It isn’t large, but what is notable about it is its design. You can walk through a tunnel under the water, looking up through the tank into the rainforest as giant catfish and piranhas cruise above your head. The dispersed light from the rough casts an unbelievable glow through the water, and you feel like you might be under there with the fish. There are some benches for sitting and watching, and if I was too impatient to sit and relax during breakfast, I had no problem sitting here for awhile. Despite snack-munching hippie tourists and their hellion children, it was still serene. The streamlined movement of the sharks and fish overhead, the slight waving of the aquatic plants…the play of light on the floor. It was a good “in-the-moment” moment. And a good place for Kim to rest his back. At least for a little while.

We then rushed to the Planetarium, stood in line with our tickets, were herded into some kind of people-pen (like something you’d normally use for herding farm animals), and then into the theater. I had thought I hadn’t been to a planetarium, but then, once inside, remembered a long-lost memory of going to one as a child. We were really lucky to have one of the funniest children in the world behind us…she was really the highlight of the planetarium experience really. As the lights went down, she turned to her father and in her most serious little girl voice said, “I miss my Barbies.” It was genuine and hilarious, and not whiny at all. Just a genuine expression of longing. Hilarious. As the show got started, she watched for a moment and then said, “I’m scared,” but not in a way where it sounded like she was going to cry, but in a way in which she sounded simultaneously intrigued and unsure. What a character! Besides her, the planetarium show was interesting enough, narrated by Sigourney Weaver, who now seems to be the go-to voice for beautiful nature shows, but I missed the simplicity of the old planetarium memory. The simple lights and stars, instead of this iMax-styled movie. It didn’t suck, but could have been better. If nothing else, it seemed like they needed to revisit the script and focus it a little better.

The final part of the Academy that we wanted to see was the green roof. The building is LEED certified, and the roof is one of its most innovative features. The skylights illuminating the interior were as interesting outside as inside, and of course, there were the requisite solar panels. But what was lovely were the plants. An entire roof of native plants, requiring only rain water and no irrigation. The provide insulation, prevent runoff, and help absorb CO2. Green roofing is an innovative, forward-thinking idea that have been implemented in various forms for a while now. I had researched them extensively for a school project, so it was great to see one in action. Made me wish I could install one. Maybe in the future.

After a full day at the Academy, I was hungry. Kim still wanted to find a gift for Amanda and to revisit Kid Robot for a new “things that hurt” zipper pull that was not a heart. Brass knuckles, gun, knife or something…but not a heart. So we elected to go back to the scene of our first meal in town, to the coffee shop with the baba ghanoush plate on Haight. We went with the falafel plate this time, the falafel being light and balancing the chickpea heartiness with parsley tang. Hummus was creamy, though probably could have had a touch more lemon. Overall, though, it was a good late light lunch that went well with a cup of rooibis tea to tide us over until dinner. From there, we went back to Kid Robot in search of a non-heart zipper pull (he got a mortar, and I got…a heart. Go figure). We took in a last stroll up and down Haight, stopping in stores, looking for possible presents for Amanda. Not much luck. No striking area brews or must-have t-shirts. Nothing was calling out. We decided to head back to the hotel for a bit, figure out our plan for the evening, and hope for some inspiration. As dusk began to settle in, we realized it was our last chance to duck into the two little stores flanking our hotel: a game store and a comic store. The game store was an old-fashioned board and role playing game store. Not video games. But chess and backgammon, D&D and all that stuff. It made me really want to learn chess. Kim picked up a game about…beer. Flashcards with beer trivia on them. I was very impressed by the design, as it used some well-done spot illustrations, clean, considered typography, and a fairly refined color palette for a beer-related thing (since most beer-related design truly sucks). Turns out it was designed by Michael Osborne Design…how appropriate to buy it here, in San Francisco. Still no gift for Amanda, though.

We hurried into the comic shop, where we proceeded to spend lots of time and money. I often forget how much I really do love a certain type of comic…Chris Ware, Daniel Clowes, Lynda Barry. These are my favorites. Personal narratives, non-superhero every-person stories capturing the outcast, the small moment, the existential sadness of everything (much like French films), but at the same time, not giving up hope for hapless losers and outcasts. Laughing darkly at themselves and others. I connect in a real way to these. Clowes, in particular, who served an important influence in the 90s for me. Eightball captured the dissatisfaction I felt with the world, never feeling like I fit in with any group, and never quite feeling like I would. Snarky? Thoroughly. But observant. His “People I Hate” piece still makes me laugh out loud, showcasing the details of these horrible people, and putting into words and visual how I feel about them, too. And “Art School Confidential.” Now that I’ve been to art school, well, it does fit a bit. Anyway, I ended up buying some of his stuff, almost buying some Ware books and some other books, but holding out. And Kim finally did find something for Amanda…a copy of Eightball. Good choice.
After a bit of research and a brief rest at the hotel, we decided to get some dinner and then venture out. We reprised our dinner at Magnolia, this time getting a most amazing sweet potato/yam, some delightfully bitter greens, and some kind of chickpea “sausage,” which was really more like falafel. Got a half pint of their Magnolia Bitter, this time on draft instead of cask, and enjoyed it all. It’s a good place, with some decent beers, but I still prefer the Linkery. I’m lucky to have it so good and so close.

From there we made our way to the Mission area to see Ponytail (a Baltimore band!) at the Bottom of the Hill. We took MUNI out there, transferring in our favorite (ha) Tenderloin stop. We were riding for awhile, thinking we were almost to our destination, but not quite there. Luckily for us, the bus was running early, and had to wait for a few minutes, so we asked. Turns out we missed our stop by a few blocks, so we got off the bus, and walked back down the hill. And what a hill! The view is amazing. It’s the kind of view where people fall in love, and then break up again…at least in indie movies. At the bottom, we stopped in Whole Foods for directions, and made our way to the club. There really isn’t much around it. Some interior design warehouses…that’s about it. It is that indie type of club that every place resembling a city has…some more than one. It was fairly crowded, but not uncomfortably so. We got there at the perfect time, just as Ponytail was finishing setting up. I was in front of the singer for the bathroom, in fact. They are a bunch of characters. We saw them open for another band (was it Octopus Project? I can’t recall) at the Beauty Bar in San Diego, and I was impressed by how weird and different they were. Risk-taking. The vocals are not words, but sounds…alternating between shouts and calls, cries of joy and sounds at times inhuman. Maybe not my favorite band in the world, but thoroughly charming, totally unpretentious, and innovative. Admittedly, I’m biased since they are from Baltimore, but really, they are fun. And they were even better this time. The crowd was much more into them than in San Diego, and the sound in the club was great. Really. So much better than the Casbah. It was well-balanced and appropriate for the room, filling it without blasting me out. The bass was full without being boomy. The vocals audible but not floating over top of the instruments. It was quite good. There was a bit of mosh pit, which was weird to me, but maybe it’s all part of the neo-90s revival that I can see starting to form. I was hoping for a little more of the late 80s and maybe some 80s hardcore to be revived first before we dove back into rave and grunge, but I’m not sure we’ll get to that. The best parts of an era are usually skipped in the revival…though the post-punk revival does seem to defy this generalization.

Anyway, it was a good show, but I was tired and ready to go. We ended up taking a different, more direct, bus back to the hotel. It was in front of some divey-looking bar that had an Earthless flyer in the window. More hipster in the area than you can shake a stick at as the saying goes. We ended up back in the room, watching Bizarre Foods and falling asleep as I realized I wasn’t quite ready to go home yet.

San Francisco :: A Real Vacation:: Thursday, Oct 9, 2008

Our final morning in the city by the bay. A welcome break in the running regime allowed us more time to enjoy a final leisurely breakfast before making our way back to Oakland and our flight back to San Diego (to arrive in time for Kim's Beer Judging class...and Quintron!). We settled on a final breakfast at Herbivore, seeing as it was close and hearty. We sat outside, the morning sunny and breezy, the traffic on Divisadero never waivering. Our waitress, who had an accent from somewhere in the United Kingdom, though we weren’t quite sure where, brought us tableware, and took our orders. I had scrambled tofu with mushrooms and spinach, breakfast potatoes, and some wheat toast. The spinach was well-cooked, not overly mushy and still retaining a slight bitterness without that raw calcium feeling of undercooked spinach. The toast seemed like it had been sitting for a bit, but the potatoes were good...really, how can you mess up potatoes with grease and salt? The whole thing seemed to be lacking a bit of spice, though. Could have used a lot more hot sauce. Took longer than expected to get the check and pay, so we ended up leaving a little later than planned. Of course, since we were staying in the laid back hotel, the front desk wasn’t manned when we were trying to leave. So we patiently waited, and maybe it worked out just right because just as we were leaving the hotel, a cab rolled up. We took one last ride out to the Civic Center BART stop. Now that we were experts on using the BART ticket machines, I reached into my wallet to find the BART card I had left from my last ride…only to find I’d lost it. Of course. A handful of quarters later, I was seated in the retro 70s car on the…train, listening to the incredibly noisy ride east. Emerging from the tunnel, I spotted the he industrial wasteland with a certain sadness during the last BART ride out to Oakland. And for the first vacation in a very long time, I didn’t want to leave. I could see myself staying.

Mapping your Rides and Runs

Kim showed me this site. It's a great example of the the possibilities of interactive mapping. Here is my bike ride for the day.

art is not (always) bullshit

the conversation began simply and innocently enough. after carefully applying both apricot and plum preserves to his breakfast slices of french bread, my boyfriend turns to me and says, "look. this is my art." we chuckle, and i start applying both to my bread, joking that i am not stealing his idea but calling it my own and i will provide him with an essay explaining why what i am doing is new.

we laugh at this critique of contemporary art.

then he says (to the best of my memory, though the exact wording may be off), "that is why do not like art. so much of it is mired in bullshit."

i laugh again. and i agree at the moment.

but then i start thinking.

this is my open letter to all who think art is mired in bullshit. it started as an e-mail, but perhaps this is a better forum.

"This is probably not something to be read quickly at work, but I have been thinking about the art = bullshit idea all morning. For some reason, it really sent me on an introspective bend. First, I believe it is something of a generalization, and one I can find humorous because I've certainly come across it...Ray at night or TNT are fertile grounds for finding examples. I also think that part of your belief comes from not having an in depth knowledge of it or an interest or inclination, much as I find economics tedious or calculus irrelevant to my daily life. Of course they are important, but it all seems so uninteresting and useless to me. But, having acknowledged that much of the contemporary art world is founded on bullshit, I still believe art itself (and design as a very closely related field) still has profound value, and is often dismissed as superfluous educationally and intellectually. I think that is a mistake. Reason and logic are important. They do make us human. But there is more to humanity than left brain. I only bring it up b/c the whole thing made me question why I'm dedicating my life to something that is often perceived as bullshit. Am I just another purveyor of meaningless, gratuitous work? Am I somehow less intelligent for choosing to learn about visual communication instead of mathematics? Is art irrelevant? Culturally, I think most people would say yes. I think it unfair. And I'd like to think it is not true. I may not understand physics and I am struggling with the simplest CSS programming, but I understand how to use imagery to communicate ideas, emotions, new ways of seeing. The last time the we pass each other on the street book was exhibited, the people featured in it walked away with a new sense of pride in their words, their stories, and their recovery. Almost all of them told me the experience was one of great healing for them, and of great pride. Several visitors to the exhibit told me that it gave them a new perspective on addiction, and made the people in the program seem so human. The work gave others the opportunity to see these addicts as people. It made a difference to the addicts, to their families, and maybe changed some perceptions. Of course it wasn't all my doing; their stories were completely moving before I visualized them. But the visual work took the words to another place, and though it may sound overly new age cheeseball, I think it got some people in the heart. It isn't necessarily measurable or tangible. But I have to believe it is important. And I guess I'm telling you all of this because I want you to understand why I am making art/design and why it is so important to me. It isn't just what I do. It's who I am and how I live. And I work my ass off to make sure it is not bullshit. well, most of it isn't, anyway."

campylobacter (or how i've been sick for a month)

so i came back from mexico with some friends. bacteria that made my stomach cramp, burn, growl...and many other things. i've been sick for a freaking month. i finally get two weeks off, and i spend it battling these freeloaders. and i didn't even really lose weight...just some muscle. bummer.

final process book project

a design not about itself, but about the designer —ed fella

most thinking designers and artists will agree on the importance and value of the process. sometimes arduous, sometimes intuitive, sometimes magical and others workmanlike, the process is the journey, the narrative that gives life to the work.

so to document the process of a quarter spent analyzing, defining, and pushing the limits of process (or methodology), is, well...a journey of a journey.

few projects have taken me to such introspective depths as this one.

the assignment was to document the process of the quarter. whatever that meant for us. to document our projects, our thoughts, our reactions, revisions...and growth.

from the start of the quarter, my whole approach was grounded on a belief that risk-taking and reflection were the keys to my creativity. understand the problem, pursue the most communicative, beautiful, passionate solution rather than the easiest solution, then reflect, analyze, criticize, refine. all of my projects from the quarter followed suit in their own ways, and it became clear that intuition and passion were my guides. sometimes this produced unexpected results, but more often than not, the unexpected results were tremendous growth experiences or innovative solutions. either way, they weren't safe, and that resulted in accepting a certain level of failure into my process. it would happen when i wouldn't have solved the problem totally successfully...but it always allowed me to leap forward onto something...well, something that embodied my beliefs and loves.

so when the task came to put all of this into one final book, i knew i couldn't just create a pdf with a standard grid and boxed photos......if i spent the quarter exploring, pushing, and taking risks, now was the time to step it up.

i decided to take a moleskine sketch book, my favorite kind of journal, and create and hand-made book of sorts documenting the process. call it a scrap book, an album, a journal...doesn't matter. it was a narrative documenting the way i thought, grew, created, communicated and moved through the quarter.

it was the most challenging project of my life, and one of the most rewarding. exhausting. enjoyable. and meaningful. i don't know if i have ever reached the level of personal communication about the way i think and approach problems and creativity as i did with this book.

at one point in the quarter, i posted this thought on the discussion board: the idea that this quarter had been about pushing ourselves to go to uncomfortable and challenging places and see what comes out and grow. as i looked at the books of my classmates, beautifully organized and rendered in PDF...i was jealous and angry with myself. i was very sick, had to go to urgent care, and weak. tired. and just ready to end the quarter. yet...when i could have probably created a lovely book in the software, i took the difficult path, choosing to do something i have never done before and to take it all of the way.

and it was worth every step. i learned more about creativity, passion, risk, love, and life in crafting these pages than i have ever have in my formal education to this point.

maybe the product doesn't hold together completely. but it embodies everything i believe in about visual communication theory and practice, and if nothing else, it is a celebration of a time of growth, with all of its joy and discomfort.

i accept its little failures and rejoice in the big payoffs.