TinkerX

Need more of this.

NSFW links here, folks. If you haven’t seen these (5 so far), do so. They’re hilarious. First one below in frame. Links to 2-5 below that. Seriously. Watch these. You don’t have to be interested in Photoshop. Headphones recommended if you like to watch NSFW stuff @W.

2   3   4   5

This looks awesome. Video below.

The first version is cool… Deluxe looks like a hoot-and-a-half.

Hey! It’s been at least a year since I coined a new, ridiculous term. So here it is: O-Cubes (as in O’s-to-the-third): Objective Oriented Objects. As per usual with the new term coinage, the aether fairly rings with the sound of, “What you talkin’ about, Havens?”

Anyone mildly familiar with programming (I qualify as “mildly” in the most mild interpretation of the word “mildly”) will know the term “Object Oriented Programming (OOP).” The basic idea behind OOP is that it’s easier to have chunks of code that can be fitted together in various ways as opposed to writing all programs from scratch. See? Mildly mild familiarity… The “objects” in OOP are code routines. Not actual objects, of course. For O-Cubes I’m using the term “objects” with reference to rendered, 3D objects for use in games, virtual worlds, design, architecture, art, etc.

I had read somewhere else, but was reminded today, of a new 3D program called Dryad out of Stanford. The purpose of Dryad is to allow users to create virtual 3D trees using an intuitive, “game-y” interface. If you’ve ever done any 3D design, even with great programs, you know that designing 3D objects is, at best, a delicious pain.

In OOP, the assumption is that programmers want to start with reasonably discreet, meaningful chunks of programs, rather than from first-order tools. With something like Dryad, the assumption begins with, “Users want to create a tree that looks something like a tree, but with lots of options.” That’s a good assumption. I can’t ever remember wanting to create a 3D image of a tree and thinking, “I hope it comes out looking like a Swiss Army Knife.”

In standard 3D programs, you often start with what are sometimes called “prims.” Which is short for “primitive,” meaning “primitive geometric shape.” Depending on the program, there can be lots or a few prims, and the tools to modify them range from simply (grow, rotate, stretch) to complex (combine, extrude, bevel). But, in the end, anything you build is made from lots of wee cubes, toroids, pyramids, etc., all woven together carefully over a loooong period of time.

What many users (me) often do, is search for a finished 3D object (from a royalty free collection, of course) that is close to what is needed, and then modify (mod) it. You want a blue, 1940’s style sports car? Find a green 1960’s style one and mess around with it. Much easier than primming a car from scratch.

Which is, essentially, what Dryad is doing: providing base forms to mod. They’re just doing it on purpose, and with a specific end form in mind. I would call this a basic O-Cube: you have an objective (”I want a big, bushy red tree”), and the objects presented to you are oriented towards that.

Users of Second Life will be familiar with the in-game tool that lets you create very specific, highly customized avatars. You can change, simply by manipulating a couple dozen sliders, body shapes and sizes in an endless variety of ways. One slider, for example, will control leg length. Move it to the left, longer legs; to the right, shorter ones. The same goes for, as I said, dozens of other features: head, shoulders, knees (you can make them knocked or bowed) and toes (big or small feet). Further manipulation is possible by layering flat images (textures) on your avatar, both for clothes and “skins” (basically, clothes that are under all the other clothes). So, with almost no training, a player can create an avatar that looks like… well, just about anyone. This kind of avatar is another example of an O-Cube, of course. And I’m going to call the tools that allow you to create avatars (SL) and trees (Dryad) “O-Cube Extruders.” Yeah. That’s really odd and unsexy. Should catch right on.

But then, in Second Life, if you want to create anything else… it’s back to pyramids, blocks, spheres, etc. In 20 minutes a design novice can create a person-figure that looks a lot like Albert Einstein. But in 20 hours, an Albert Einstein couldn’t create a decent looking boat. Or car. Or shoe. Or tree.

Making the design of 3D objects *part* of the game is the next step in creating more interesting, compelling virtual reality spaces, I believe. I’d love to build my own wonderful, specific, creative house in Second Life. I just don’t want to do it from blocks.

Is this the “dumbing down” of design? It depends on what level you examine the term “design.” I haven’t ever made my own paint from minerals and oils. But I have painted. Is that a dumbing down of the painting process? Same for graphic design: I use programs like Photoshop and InDesign. They are highly object oriented, in many cases.

Imagine a virtual world where there were “Dryads” for hundreds or thousands of objects. You want your in-game house to be a giant aquarium? Great. Rather than design 100 different fish pets from scratch, start with the Fish-o-matic.

What someone should design is a virtual world where the tools to make O-Cube extractors are provided. Sliders to control what the sliders control. That way non-programmers (and non designers) can create the things that they (and others) can then use to create things. Which will then populate the virtual worlds.

If that sounds far-fetched to you, try Second Life just long enough to mess around with the avatar creation tool. It feels very intuitive and is a bunch of fun. Now imagine being able to have that much control over all kinds of stuff.

Fun.

“Who the hell wants to hear actors talk?”
– H.M. Warner (Warner Brothers), 1927

Let’s agree on one thing: different is different. Fine. That’s pretty straightforward. But to say something is better or worse — without giving some context — because it’s different… is ignorant.

Recently, David Lynch had a little video moment about how watching a movie on your (”fucking”) phone is, in his words, “a sadness.” He says that you can’t “experience” the film on your phone. “You’ll think you have experienced it, buy you’ll be cheated.” The video’s been around the ‘net and parodied, etc. Here’s my favorite version:

Now… if you watch this YouTube video of an iPhone playing the video, rather than the original, and you think you’ve seen it, you’re wrong. You may think you’ve experienced the 30 second interview with Lynch, but you’re being cheated. My appologies.

If Lynch’s obvious point is that films are created with an original intention that they be watched on a large screen, and that watching them on a much smaller screen is different… well, ok. That’s fine. The experiences are, clearly, different.

But couldn’t we say the same thing about watching films on TV? Or on the 8-of-12 screens at my local multiplex that are, frankly, way too small to be considered movie screens? The ones only about as wide as 10 seats. That’s not a movie; that’s a really big TV. You wanna see “Lawrence of Arabia,” you should have to turn your head a little, even from half-way back in the theater.

Couldn’t we say the same thing about eating while watching a film? The creators didn’t write, direct, produce and perform the film with the thought, “I wonder how this will look and sound while someone is slupring Diet Sprite and mawing down a 2 lb. bag of Goobers.” We could say the same thing about seeing the movie while drunk, stoned or tired. I’ve seen hundreds, if not thousands, of films in theaters, and I’ve fallen asleep for a moment or two a few times. Have I been cheated?

What if I don’t understand the references in a movie? Either actual ones (vocabulary, history, geography) or tangential ones (art, cinematography, culture)? Am I being cheated if I don’t “get” all the funky allusions in a Tarantino picture?

Follow this out far enough, and I don’t think I can experience a David Lynch film uncheated… unless I’m David Lynch. He seems like a nice enough guy, sure… but I think my wife would be surprised if he showed up in the kitchen at 7 am tomorrow.

Who decides? In the creation of art, the author does, obviously. A writer or director or actor makes innumerable decisions about what to edit from any moment of a piece. You (often/usually) can’t go back and ask for the early drafts or takes. You get what is put forward as the final piece.

But from there, it’s up to you to decide. Do you power-read a book of Yeats’ poetry so that you have a vague familiarity with it? Or do you spend some good, quiet time with each piece? Or do you read some background history on the work so that you can put it into a biographical and cultural context? That’s up to you.

“You’ll think you have experienced it” may be the most egotistical remark I’ve heard thus far this year.

Update: Another iteration. Thanks m_m:

Another variation on “My Team, Your Team” has been pointed out by a reader; a game where teams of creations alternately attack and defend a snowman with their various powers. Neat, neat, neat idea! Thanks for sharing, Kirk.

It makes me start to wonder (casually at this point… should give it some rigorous wondering later) what other variations might be possible/fun.

Last year I wrote a post called The UnGrinch 25; a list of ideas on how to keep the fun, spirit and joy in your holiday season. In order to challenge myself, I’m upping the ante this year. So let’s see if I can come up with 50 ways to beat the Holiday Humbugs. I will be incorporating last year’s list, but adding new stuff (duh) and grouping things in five categories, 10 ideas each for (jump links ahead): crafts, entertaining, cards, gifts/shopping and meaningfulness. So… away we go.

10 Craft Ideas

1. Make a family calendar. Pick a theme or use pics of your family. Fill it with all the important family dates; birthdays, anniversaries, etc. Include a weird or interesting events from Chase’s Annual Events. You can make monthly calendars using MS Publisher, or the ever-free and wonderful Open Office. Good to have, good to give.

2. Create your own ornaments. My favorite, as a kid, was to take a styrofoam shape (bell, star, even a simple ball), and stick a bajillion sequins to it with pins. Pretty. Shiny. And it keeps kids busy for hours while you do other holiday nonsense. Another ornament idea (bonus!) is to take beads (I like the shiny, little, star-flowery shaped ones) and string them along a piece of craft wire. When you’re done, you end up with an ornament that’s also a bendy toy.

3. Lego nativity scene. ‘Nuff said.

4. Toys from tots. There are many organizations that gather up toys for kids who don’t have them. And that’s fantastic. But kids also love to make and give stuff around the holiday season, and may not have the resources. Organize an effort to provide a crafty sort of event where all the necessary parts and instructions for making a neat holiday gift are available to a group of kids who otherwise wouldn’t have access. My bet is that if you or your organization provided the stuff and the supervision, your local, public library could help you find a place to do it.

5. Make a truly edible gingerbread house. Every gob-smacked gingerbread house I’ve ever seen has been "hands off" (and more importantly, "teeth off"). Feh! Where’s the fun? I mean… C’mon! I don’t care if you stick six graham crackers together with peanut butter and put one gum-drop on top for a chimney. Do it, and then let the kids get all Godzilla on it. Or chomp it down yerself. You know you want to…

6. Decorate somebody else’s space. Carefully. Tastefully. Always within the bounds of office rules/etiquette and the law/fire-code. But how nice would it be to enter your office (cube…) and find a wee, unexpected holiday trinket? Totally anonymous. Or to come home and have a strange, lovely wreath hanging on your lamp-post? Put a small, stuffed penguin with a Santa hat on someone’s dashboard today.

7. Group shoebox calendar. Warning: takes planning. Everybody in your gang (family, office, church-group, etc.) brings in enough shoeboxes to make 25. Everybody puts something in them to help decorate the common space. Wrap them (and keep the innards secret), then randomly assign numbers 1-25 to them. Or more or less if you’re doing a non-religious thing. Do 31 and make it a "New Year’s Calendar." Whatever. Then, on each day, get together as a group, open the appropriate box (take turns, now) and use it to brighten the day and make the place niftier.

8. Bad Mojo Wreath Voodo. OK… this one will probably not go down well for many church youth groups… but it’s meant with a sense of humor, so chill out. Have everyone in your gang (family, group) write something that bugs them on a  piece of colored paper that matches (or not) the cheapest, driest, most flamable wreath you can find. Decorate the wreath with the slips of nastiness. On the day of celebration, burn (or otherwise destroy in a more work-friendly manner) the Wreath of Spite. Celebrate the destruction and release of the things that bug you.

9. Holiday bird-feeder. I like bird-feeders. So do my squirrels. Oh, well… But mostly they either look like weird plastic contraptions or little A-frame tenements. Help a bird out. Decorate a special bird-house/feeder for the holidays.

10. Odd snow sculpture. We all make the snowmen. Yes, yes. Lovely snowmen. Do it up different this year. Make a snow carving of your company’s logo. Never mind. Don’t do that. How about a UF-SNOW? Unidentified Freezing Snowcraft? Or a guy climbing up your front tree? Or a giant hand? Don’t be overly critical of your work… just get some friends together and get stupid with the snow.

10 Entertaining Ideas.

1. Rewrite "The Twelve Days of Christmas." Let’s face it, hollering, "Fiiiiive gooolden riiings!" is way fun. Way, way fun. You can not resist, so don’t hold back. But what’s even more fun, is hollering your own family version that only you and the clan know. Because, really… doesn’t singing about how your true love gave to you… "eight maids a milking" make you a bit… uncomfortable? I mean… dude gives people for Christmas? That ain’t right. Bob and Doug McKenzie not withstanding, your own version will be more fun. My son, just this morning, was singing, "Fiiiiive gooolden delicious!" Hilarious.

2. Indoor snow-ball fights. We spent two years of my childhood in California, after having lived in Boston, and with parents who grew up in New York. Snow ball fights are a required element of winter joy. Indoor? Substitute  aluminum foil balls, rolled-up socks, styrofoam (messy), newspaper wads, etc. instead of snow. The point is to throw things. Banzai!

3. Mall caroling. It’s hard to find places to carol. Outside can get very cold. And, with kids in tow… well, it’s tough. Check with a couple local malls and arrange for a time to invite anyone who’d like to participate to meet, get song books, and walk around the mall singing. See if you can arrange for an accordion player. Seriously. It adds to the cheer. If you want to charge a couple bucks to participate and also collect donations from listeners and then give the money to a local toys-for-tots charity, that makes the whole deal more righteous, and more palatable to certain civic types.

4. Grown-up PJ party. Notice I did not say "adult." This is not a chance to play spin-the-bottle. This is about getting back to childishness. Come in PJs, bathrobes, bunny-slippers, blankets, etc. Bring your favorite (hopefully holiday related) bed-time story to read aloud to the group. Drink cocoa w/ tiny marshmallows (yes, and some brandy or JD) and have candy canes and graham crackers for snacks. Sit on the floor around the fireplace. Watch all the old
Rankin-Bass claymation holiday specials on VHS. Sing a few carols. Play…

5. Insane White Elephant. Last year, John Moore from Brand Autopsy set up an excellent White Elephant Blog. It ain’t up this year. Oh, well. The basic principles of a White Elephant gift exchange apply, but anyone who has their gift taken can keep stealing from anyone who hasn’t yet had their gift stolen that turn. The more people playing, the more fun. No "deceased" gifts in this version, either. Until you’ve had a gift stolen on any given turn, it’s in play.

6. Make-a-wreath party. OK… this is a combo craft/entertainment idea. So sue me. We used to do this at the church I grew up going to. You show up with the basics of an advent wreath (styrofoam torus and a bunch of evergreen branches), and the host provides all kinds of add-ons; candles and holders, bells, ribbon, holly, berries, etc. Good times, and a wreath to take home, too.

7. Semi-formal holiday martini party. In the old days (the 1950’s), people dressed up to go to holiday parties. And while this may still hold true for some work-sponsored events, more and more often, work holiday parties are tired, dull affairs. Most of the ones I’ve been to are, anyways. So, on your own, get some friends together and dress all high-class, and drink funky, fun martinis. No reason grown-ups can’t have grown-up fun around the holidays, too.

8. Remembrance time. Around the table, have family members or friends recount their best (or most interesting) holiday memories. Yes, it’s corny. But corny is good during this time of the year. Embrace the corn.

9. Tell your faith’s holiday story with sock puppets. You never real own a story until you tell it. I know this, because I played King Nebuchannezzar in a 4th grade production of, "Cool in the Furnace." I now own The Firey Furnace. Be that as it may… You can hear the Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Yule, Solstice, etc. stories again and again. But until you write out a script, make your own sock puppets for the players, fashion a stage from a major appliance crate and put on a show for the grown-ups… do you really grok the holiday’s true meaning? I think not.

10. Mix-up the classics. Get the book versions of classic holiday tales like Rudolph, Santa, Frosty, Night Before Christmas, A Christmas Carol, etc. Get some index cards. Write character names, major attributes ("nose glows," "miser," "made of snow," "elf,") and plot points ("comes down the chimney," "ridiculed by reindeer," "just settled down for a long winter’s nape") on them and keep the categories separate. Now go back and read one of the originals, but when someone (usually a child or me) yells "stop!," insert a random card from the appropriate face-down pile. So you end up with something like:

"Rudolph didn’t like all the other reindeer calling him names, so he…"
"Stop!"
"… gave Bob Cratchit money to help with Tiny Tim’s legs."

You can keep going with the original story, substituting other zaniness, or switch over to the one from the card. Whichever seems like more fun to you. And, yes, this is kind of a holiday version of TaleWeaver.

10 Card Ideas

1. Make your own envelopes. A dear friend of mine (Hi, Susan!) once sent me letters every few months in hand-made envelopes. Hers were made from interesting magazine ads. How cool is that? If you want to get fancy, do a search on the Internet for "make envelopes" and such. But the easiest way is to get the envelopes that go with whatever cards you’re mailing, carefully bust ‘em apart, trace them on funky paper (magazine pictures, wallpaper, wrapping paper…) and then cut, fold and glue (or double-sticky clear tape) them together. People may expect hand-made cards. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. Or hand-made envelopes. Festivisimus!

2. Photoshop your kid(s) into other (classic) pics. I first saw this done to Raphael’s "The Sistine Madonna, Detail of the Angles" painting (as shown). Although a much better job than the one I’ve done here, which is of my niece and nephew (Hi, Nate! Hi, Sophie!) Click on it to see a much larger image. The point is to have fun and take a picture folks will recognize and include people they will recognize. It doesn’t have to be a serious pic, either. I would think that your kid climbing the Empire State Building to put a star on top would be hysterical. Use this instead of a regular picture-of-your-kids card because… well… because it’s goofy. Combine with #9, below, for best effect.

3. Gift cards for chores, favors, hugs, etc. These were a big item when I was growing up. Don’t know if other people did them. The idea was to make gift-certificates or gift cards that "entitled the bearer to (1) one doing of the dishes upon presentation of this card." You can make these intimate for your honey (I won’t get into those variations here, thank you), or appropriate for work. For example, I once gave my boss ten "Andy will now pipe down" certificates. Upon presentation, I was obligated to shut my pie hole. She only ever handed me two. I believe she traded the rest in for some magic beans. Or they may be floating around on eBay… Hmmm….

4. "Puzzle Party" cards. Take, buy or make a nice picture and turn it into a jigsaw, either yourself or at Kinkos. Mail one piece to each person you’re inviting to the party. When they come, they add their piece. Depending on how corn-ball you are, you can hold forth on how we’re all a part of the holiday panorama of joy, etc. etc. It also serves to increase the guilt factor that motivates people to come to your party, since if they don’t… their piece will be missing. Ha!

5. "Family News" cards from the future. I love this one. Lots of families I know write a very nice update about what’s been going on over the last year. It’s nice to hear, but… mostly it ends up being, "Dad’s still working and maybe going a bit more stir crazy. Same for mom. The kids are in school and are a year older." Yawn… I like the idea of fast-forwarding a bit and writing your "Holiday Family News from 2025." Keep it just as straight-faced and boring, but mention which dimension Mary got lost in on the way to work this time. Talk about how the Martian embassy lost your passport on your 2nd honeymoon cruise, etc. etc. Much more fun. Cloning humor goes over big in this one, too.

6. Mystery cards. Send a really nice holiday card, maybe include a gift certificate, but with no indication of whom it’s from; no names, no return address, etc. Why? To bug the crap out of somebody you love. And isn’t that what the holiday season is all about?

7. Return-reply cards. Send people a card with a self-addressed, stamped envelope or postcard inside to send back to you. Put questions on it you’d like answered, like… what do you want for Christmas next year? How the heck are ya? Which holiday movies did you see and like or hate? People love to be interactive. Give the gift that gives something back to you.

8. Custom mouse pad card. They will throw away the picture of your kids. But if you put that picture on a custom mouse pad… it’s a keepsake.

9. Nice, custom cards. While we’re visiting Cafepress.com. … You can go to the drug store and have any photo turned into a card. And they sure look like you did just that. But if you take a few more minutes, you can actually have custom cards printed out for you. Ones that look like cards. Which is nicer, you must admit. Combine this with #2, above.

10. Origami cards. Do your regular card, but include a piece (or more, if necessary) of origami paper and instructions for making an ornament, decoration, etc. Your local library has holiday origami books, I bet. Again… the point is to do something different… with a little extra un-Grincy flavor.

10 Gift/Shopping Ideas

1. Surrogate shopping party. So many of us have someone or several someones on our lists that are impossible to shop for or that we just have a mental block on. Fine. Get together for dinner and share an equal number of those folks with each other, along with a few details and a dollar ceiling per gift. Then release yourselves into a mall with a time limit. Then get back together and share the swag. I guar-ohn-tee that your friends will find stuff for your hard-to-getters that you’d never have thought of. If it ain’t right? Well, ’tis the season to return stuff.

2. Thought gifts. They say, "It’s the thought that counts." OK. So, this year, only give thoughts for the holidays. Make this the year that you and yours agree to take whatever your budget for gifts was and either give it to a charity or stick it in a savings vehicle; your call, I’m not preaching here. But for yourselves… take the time to actually say the things you haven’t said. Give "the thought" behind the gift. If you’re a spiritual person, pray or meditate on the subject for a bit. Do it in a card if you like, or via email. Don’t make the logistics as much of a pain as shopping/wrapping/etc. That’s not the point. But all the major religions that are celebrating this time of year have gift-giving as a central notion not as a potlatch per se, but as a metaphor for love, friendship, community, etc.

3 Archie McPhee. This idea is a straight-up pimp for the Jumbo Mystery Box from Archie McPhee. I get one of these every year (although this year I have been strongly advised that the ladies want something non-McPhee in their stockings… geez), and use the contents for stockings, Secret Santa, random giftings, prizes for students, etc. You never know, around holiday time, when a bunch of Hindu god finger puppets, glowing eyeballs or rampaging Hun toy soldiers will come in handy.

4. Gifts for the future of the group. Have everybody get everybody something that will only really "work" when you get back together. Pick a group-y activity like a picnic or game night, and have everyone get/give gifts that will be brought together again each time you do that thing.

5. Recommendations or reviews. I get lots of gift certificates. And that’s cool. But it still means I need to figure out what I want to get with the thing. If you give someone a gift certificate (especially to a book or music store/site), provide a list of 5 or 10 ideas that you think they’d like. Write little mini-reviews of books you’ve read, movies you’ve seen, etc. that made you think of the person. Make the list fun, funny or serious… but it will add personality and thought to what can seem like a somewhat generic offering.

6. Make part of the gift yourself. Homemade gifts are special, when they come from adults as well as kids. I recently received a CD from a friend, and it was wrapped in a handkerchief that he’d tie-dyed himself. How cool is that?! If you give someone a coffee machine, create a custom mug for them, too.

7. Food with gifts inside. I don’t know why this is fun, but it is. Make sure you warn people, and make the gifts obvious (small gems can be a choking or tooth-breaking hazard). Seal stuff in zip-lock bags to preserve the food and the toys. Put something in the Jello (action figures?) that will make digging out the prize as much fun as playing with it.

8. Gifts with a story. Write a fictional story about how the gift you’re giving came into your hands. Make it funny, sweet, odd, implausible… whatever. It will make the present more memorable.

9. Don’t overthink. We spend so much time (well, I don’t, but "we" do) trying to figure out the "perfect gift" for people. Unless you’re sweetie is waiting for a ring, or your 8-year-old will DIE without a particular Lego set… there ain’t no such thing. Part of the fun of gifts is getting something you wouldn’t ever have bought for yourself. If it wasn’t, we’d just give each other money. Bleh. So give something odd and unexpected. I mentioned Archie McPhee before. Another great site full of fun and different ideas is the Quincy Shop. Very unique stuff, in a wide range of prices and styles. Really fun. This year, somebody better get me a Buddha Board Zen Art thing, or I’m a-gonna cry. I got most of last year’s stocking stuffers from their "Unique Gifts Under $10" section. Their selection and service gets the Andy Havens’ Seal of Wow! That’s Neat!

10. Share kids. Childhood is a big part of the holidays; both our own and our kids’. If you don’t have kids and are friends with someone who does, offer to babysit so that they can go out and shop, and then do one of the craft things above. If you do have kids, and know folks that don’t, invite them over for an event where the kids will play a part. Holidays go better with runts.

10 Meaningful Ideas

Hopefully, all the above ideas can be meaningful. This last set, though, is meant to supply you with specific, holiday depth and feelings of joy, brotherhood, jolly…tude? Jolliness? That sounds better.

The holidays can be meaningful? Go figger.

1. Start a bizarre, personal holiday tradition. I heard somewhere (can’t find it online, sorry… it may be apocryphal) that Amy Grant’s family explodes their Christmas tree after New Year’s Day with fireworks. I’m neither hot nor cold on Ms. Grant, but… that’s flippin’ awesome!!! So many of our holiday traditions are either copped from cultures that really aren’t our own anymore, or have been entirely kidnapped by the media/mercantile world. Why not invent a new ritual that’s just for you and your family? Stuff a sock with toys by the fireplace? Why? I sure as heck don’t know. How about, instead, everybody in your family writes one line of a nativity poem. Or fight some gingerbread man wars. Or make advent candles from last year’s used crayons. At my house, we’ve now been playing street hockey the day after Christmas for several years with all the in-laws. Why? Bob wanted to one year. After three years… It’s a tradition!

2. Overtip, ridiculously, at least once. Food service is tough work. And around the holidays, it’s even worse. People are out-and-about, running like mad, full o’ holiday spirit, and, often, not very nice to the wait staff. And because we’re spending more than we should on various baubles, bangles and beads… we’re often a bit penurious when it comes to the everyday stuff. Which hurts the folks whose livelihood depends on our largess. So. At least once, between Thanksgiving and New Year, when you get good service and a nice smile with your meal… leave a $20 tip on a $13 lunch meal. Or, what the heck… leave $50 to cover a $22 dinner. Or $100 for a cup o’ joe. Seriously. Don’t make a big deal out of it. Do it, as the scriptures say, "In the dark." But do it. You’ll make somebody’s whole season.

3. Start a yearly journal. Very few people keep a journal. I’m a professional writer, and I don’t. I’m supposed to, but I write at work, and I blog, and I write poetry and fiction and, and, and… So I’ve never had a daily journal. But what I do have is a notebook that I take out about once a year. Often around the holidays. And, in my case, I write in it the names of people — everyone I can remember — that I’ve met during the last year or so. And, of course, I go back and read the earlier entries and reflect on how lucky I’ve been to have known so many wonderful people. The names are my "touchstones" to the past. The names are bookmarks in my memory, because people anchor the most important events in my life, I think. Anyway… that’s what’s in my "annual journal" for the most part. Yours, of course, can be anything you want.

4. Share a resolution. We don’t keep our New Year’s resolutions, for the most part, because we are not really accountable to ourselves. We cheat and look the other way. So share a resolution with a friend or family member; let them hold you accountable, and vice versa.

5. Share a resolution. No, this is not a repeat. In this case, I mean make a resolution that includes another person. For example, resolve to have a game-night once a week with your family, or to go for a walk 3 days a week with your spouse. Resolve to send an email back-and-forth at least twice a month with a friend you don’t see much anymore. Resolve to cook healthy for me, and I’ll cook healthy for you twice a week. Resolve to help your boss with his annoying habit of not taking minutes/notes at meetings, and he can help you with your attempts at better process management. So many things that we want to accomplish are impossible alone. Resolve to be better together.

6. Visit someone else’s ceremony. When I was in confirmation class as a young Methodist swain, our pastor took us to a Passover Seder service at one of the nearby Jewish temples. It was a great way to learn about the similarities and differences between my faith and that of my Jewish friends, and to drink wine as a 15-year-old. That specific holiday won’t work around December… but you get the point. Find out what and how others are celebrating around this time of the year. You’ll end up experiencing your own traditions more deeply, I guarantee.

7. Take someone to a performance of Handel’s "Messiah" who’s never been. There’s a church in your area putting it on, I guarantee. If not (some guarantee, eh?), rent a version from the library. It’s truly one of the most beautiful, moving pieces of holiday music you can experience. Sharing it is a great gift.

8. Random (nice) blog comments. If you read lots of blogs, take the time to do something that only 1-in-100 readers generally does; leave a comment. We bloggers write for lots of reasons. But nothing makes our day like a comment from a reader we haven’t heard from before. If you’ve enjoyed the work of a blogger in the past, visit their space and let them know. It takes just a few minutes, and really is a lovely treat for us. Please note, I am not fishing for comments on this blog. I’m projecting.  ;->

9. Give to a charity you don’t normally connect with. Stretch a bit. If you mostly give at church, find a secular charity that does something you agree with. If you tend towards issues of hunger, try education. I’m not saying don’t do the stuff you usually do… but find out about a new one. When our giving becomes rote, we lose something of the original reason we were moved to give. Get out of your comfort zone and find a new way to share.

10. Forgiveness. One of the worst barriers to experiencing spiritual, holiday joy is the sense that we are not worthy. Whether directly or indirectly, too much gift giving is often a substitute for the resolution of actual issues. And one of the issues that really can weigh us down this time of the year is a grudge. Whether you’re holding one against someone else, or they’re mad at you about something… take care of it. If it’s so far in the past that the person is dead, moved on, out-of-touch,etc., then talk to a friend, therapist or confessor of some kind. Get rid of it. I don’t care what your religion is or if you have none. The burden of unforgiveness is a strain on the holidays for us all. Lose that, and all the other holiday stuff will be much, much brighter.

Well, that’s it for this year. Hopefully you found something in here that will help your holiday be more fun, festive and… fruitful? Well, bad alliteration aside, have a joyful season and a Happy New Year.

A forum version of "My Team, Your Team" has been started by Tom Conger at the Brakenwood Forum.

All communication intends to exchange meaning. "I’d like a cheeseburger with fries and a Coke." That conveys meaning from a hungry customer to a waitress or fry cook. And if the communication between customer and cook was reduced, let’s say, to the pushing of buttons with pictures of meal choices — as in a vending machine — we’d have communication that is almost perfectly mundane. By which I mean there is very little chance for interpretive meaning, only the exchange of explicit communicative chunks. "Almost perfect" because there’s a person on the other end of the process taking the mechanical order and doing the cooking. If a customer were to come in and push the "large fry" button 75 or 200 or 809 times in a row in quick succession, the cook might step out from the kitchen and make sure that there wasn’t a problem. Even in this simple example, there is room for interpretation at the edges.

And the edges are what poetry is all about.

If you want to make simple, declarative statements about feelings or beliefs… stick to prose. There’s no harm. Most of what I write is prose, and a good essay, rant, story or post is a joy forever.  But if you’re the type who is now thinking, "Yeah… I wonder how many times I’d need to mash the ‘fries’ button to get the cook to come out?" then you might be a poet.

Language is, of a necessity, symbolic. When I say, "It is cold," it doesn’t make it cold. It might not even be cold, by any reasonable assessment. When I change the words to, "I am cold," it can mean a couple of things, eh? Clearly, it can mean, "There is less heat in my environment than I am comfortable with." But we also use the term "cold" to mean emotionally distant, unloving, uncaring, etc.

The fact that one word, phrase, description or entire piece of writing can mean multiple things is what makes good poetry so beautiful. As humans, we like to see/make connections. We like solving puzzles. We make connections even where none are intended; how often have you looked at a cloud and thought, "That looks like a [whatever]." Our brains are programmed to seek meaning on multiple levels.

How is this useful in poetry? Well, let’s consider the "cold" thing again. If I simply say, "I am cold," without context, you can think either that I’d like to warm up, or that I’m emotionally distant. As soon as I provide some surroundings for this statement, though, you have more edges; more interpretive options:

I am cold
here in your bedroom.

Whoops! Hey… what?  OK. That’s weird, isn’t it? When "bedroom" is referenced in poetry (and much art) it is usually a place of warmth and connection. The poet is saying he’s cold (either lacking heat or feeling distant) in a place where both of those things are odd. It makes the interpretative process different and more interesting; there are more ways to put the pieces together, to make sense of the edges where meanings can cross. Let’s add another line:

I am cold
here in your bedroom.
Someone left the window open.

What’s going on now? Well… "window open" implies that the "cold" is possibly (more likely?) one related to temperature. We get cold when windows are open. But let’s check out that word, "Someone." Hmmm… Someone? Not "you" or "I." The two people we’d expect to be involved in a bedroom poem aren’t to blame. Let’s keep going.

I am cold
here in your bedroom.
Someone left the window open.
And the summer sun won’t touch me
on the dry, dark, hard wood floor.

Now it’s maybe getting contradictory and, possibly, a bit creepy. On the absolute surface level — no poetry intended — a reader could take this at face value and say, "OK. So a dude is sitting on the floor of his girlfriend’s room, and he’s out of the sun, so he’s cold. Big deal."

Right. But it’s not hard to see the edges in this one, is it? Why would the writer choose (and good poetry is all about word choices) to make the narrator cold in the summer? That’s a contrast, and contrast immediately shows of the edges between possible interpretations and makes us look for patterns and meaning. There’s even sun, which implies it’s day and not night, and probably not "cold" in an absolute sense. That is, at least, a strong implication.

So what else might be going on here? Always make the assumption that a poet is choosing his/her words with great care. You’ll do that when you write good poetry, so make the assumption. So… just like we asked questions last time about Shakespeare’s sonnet, let’s ask some questions:

• Who left the window open?
• Why is the narrator alone (apparently, at this point) in "your" bedroom?
• Why is the poem addressed to "you" and not "her" or "him?"
• Why is the narrator on the floor?
• Why use the word "touch" related to what the sun can/can’t do?
• Why use the word "won’t" for the sun’s touch — which implies intention on the part of the sun or avoidance on the part of the narrator — rather than "can’t?"
• Why use the words "dry," and "dark" to describe the floor, other than that "dark" emphasizes the lack of sun?
• Is it important that the floor is "hard wood?"

I’m intrigued. Are you intrigued? Whenever you read poetry, do so like a detective. Think about the words as if they are all clues to places where the poet has been and wants you to follow.

Most poets, myself included, *hate* explaining their work. The whole point is to let the reader pull out meaning and depth based on their interpretation. Explaining your own poetry is like starting a joke with the punchline or saying, "I’m going to tell you a neat, provocative mystery in which the main character’s sister is the killer." Blech. But today, because we are doing lessons, there will be some explication of the aforementioned questions: 

• Who left the window open? Can’t be "me" (the narrator) or "you" (the object of the poem). Must be someone else. Not normally a comfortable implication in a poem. Probably a cause for stress or drama between "me" and "you."
• Why is the narrator alone (apparently, at this point) in "your" bedroom? Maybe "you" left. Maybe "you" are still there, but are very quiet (also a disturbing possibility). Maybe "you" didn’t expect me. Maybe "you" are out with whomever opened the window.
• Why is the poem addressed to "you" and not "her" or "him?" Using the 2nd person implies familiarity. It also makes the reader feel more like an outsider, as the use of the 3rd person ("I am cold / here in her bedroom") would imply that the narrator expects the piece to be read/seen by the reader. In the 2nd person, there is a feeling of overhearing a conversation between two others, rather than reading something explicitly public. The "you" is the intended recpient, the object of the communication. This is subtle, sure… but important.
• Why is the narrator on the floor? "Bedroom" implies, pretty strongly, one piece of furniture: a bed. The implication is that he’s not using the one thing that makes a bedroom a bedroom. This is a strong clue that something is wrong or not comfortable. Why would the narrator avoid a bed in a bedroom? Especially if he is cold, and beds are used to keep warm.
• Why use the word "touch" related to what the sun can/can’t do? The sun doesn’t really "touch" us. The light/heat do. But "touch" is a verb that implies personal, often emotional or intimate contact. So the lack of touch is another clue that there is some kind of personal, intimate lack here.
  
• Why use the word "won’t" for the sun’s touch? The sun doesn’t make choices in reality. The sun doesn’t withhold its "touch" based on some kind of consciousness. So we’re left to make one or two assumptions. Either the narrator is anthropomorphizing the sun and it’s affect on him (cold) — which is a sign of psychological distress — or the narrator is avoiding the sun’s touch on purpose. "It won’t touch me," implies a choice made, rather than "It can’t touch me," which implies an unavoidable situation.
• Why use the words "dry," and "dark" to describe the floor? Sure, dark reinforces the lack of sun’s touch. But we’ve already made the assumption that the narrator has chosen to be on the floor, and has possibly, deliberately picked his spot. If the floor is, itself, dry and dark, what is that in contrast to? Why even describe the floor? Well, because it’s not the bed. The light, we assume, is touching the bed. And, while dryness is not necessarily associated with warmth, those romantic things that happen in beds are often moist; kissing, sweat, sex, etc.
• Is it important that the floor is "hard wood?" Well… if you’re looking for sexual references (and in a bedroom, that’s a good bet), "hard" has implications, as does "wood."

So, above and beyond the surface, narrative meaning… we now have someone addressing someone in a more personal way (2nd person object), alone in a place that would normally have another there, on the floor instead of the logical bed, avoiding touch purposefully, in a dry/dark place, with (let’s push this a bit, students) an errection.

Now… some of you are no doubt saying, "C’mon! That’s reading a lot into those word choices." Yep. And an argument I have time and time again with new readers of poetry is on the subject of reading more into a piece than was intended by the poet. First of all, assume that the poet intends the maximum number/levels of interpretation. It’s a good bet that he/she thought more about the writing of the piece than you are about the reading. Second, even if you do read something into the poem that wasn’t intentional… that’s ok. Part of the fun/joy or poetry is finding a picture of a dragon in a cloud that was painted to look like a bunny. I don’t know a poet out there who will complain if you find some extra, bonus meaning in their piece.

I’ll finish this poem next time, when we’ll cover tension and release (or the lack thereof) as poetic devices, and why you should aim for "frisson" as a poet. Until then, your assignment is to take a very simple, declarative phrase and embelish it with at least three phrases that put its surface meaning into question, or provide alternate contexts. Don’t worry about being "poetic." Just start with a phrase like:

The car is going fast.

And then think of three phrases that, in juxtaposition with the first, might cause a reader to ask some questions. Like:

• It’s making me sleepy
• Although it’s out of gas
• My mom’s a crazy driver

All of those phrases are somewhat unexpected when coupled with "the car is going fast." Go be unexpected on purpose.

I don’t know. Moldavian? I can tell it’s not Spanish or French. But I don’t know enough about languages to tell which is being used at: Kdo bo koga zradiral.

Whatever the written language, the visual one is the universal tongue of my dude beating the carp out of your dude. Bueno. 

[Update per comment below: Slovene!] 

My Team, Your Team has been getting a lot of link-love over the past few weeks. Which is super cool; it’s a fun game, and everyone in the world should play it and be in love and have puppies.

But the writers in the house need their fun, too. So here’s one we played back in the day (along with Alternate Lyrics Kung Fu):

Metaphor Mix-Up.

Best with at least 3 people, or in an email chain. 

1. Write down a decent metaphor/simile. Take a sentence or two if you need it, or even put it into a short poem. Something like:

   "Morning walks with Chump, the hound, left me feeling like a train that had been pulled off its tracks by a mad, furry, whuffling, slobbery locomotive."

2. Pass the metaphor on to the next person (and you get one from someone else in the chain)
3. Change one part of the metaphor, but leave the other untouched. The two parts of a metaphor are the tenor – the thing being described (in the example above, the walk with Chump) — and the vehicle – the thing used to make the description (the train). Example:

   "Morning walks with Chump, the hound, left me feeling like the harem slave to a short, hairy nabob."  or…

   "Conversations with my Unlce Frank left me feeling like a train that had been pulled off its tracks by a mad, furry, whuffling, slobery locomotive."

4. Pass it around again, until everyone in the game has touched everyone else’s metaphor. Make sure you keep the changes with the original (in email, that’s easy), so that the originator can see the progression of his/her metaphor.

That’s it. Sounds easy, but it’s not always. And it’s fun to do it with a time-limit if you’re in real life.

The robot version of MTYT.

Awesome.

That makes three. 

So the drawing game my son and I started with "My Team, Your Team" (MTYT), was turned into the site/blog "The Superest" by professional artists, and from there became the open MTYT blog, "Bayou Battle."

It’s an interesting progression, from an activity/skills perspective. The original game was played on paper (the back of Bob Evans placemats, to start) with crayons, and so the skills involved were imagination (of course), drawing and tactics. Those same skills are used by the artists at The Superest, to which they add whatever necessary technical skills blog creation/operation require. We might include some PHP or SQL knowledge, the ability to design the site (it looks real nice, eh?), some promotional skills involved in getting folks involved, the digital art skills that you need to either create a picture for the web or get it there, etc. A whole buncha stuff.

But they still involve drawing. And, since The Superest guys are artists, pretty dang good drawing. Better than I can do, for sure. Give my boy a few years and he might catch up. But me? I’m a hack. I’m a crafty guy, but certainly no artist.

Enter Bayou Battle.

The highest compliment an egoist such as myself can pay to an idea is, "I should have thought of that." Well, when it comes to Bayou Battle… I should have thought of that. It’s a mashup of MTYM and LOL cats. Rather than start pictures from scratch… start w/ a web graphic, maybe Photoshop it a bit, add a caption (or, in the case of MTYM, a description of your power), and voila! MTYM for the MySpace age.

So… looking forward. What I’d love to see is a Facebook or MyPage applet that lets you play MTYM with your friends, back-and-forth on your profile pages. So if anyone here is that kind of creative, get crackin’! Just remember to send some link love back to Tinker, eh.

All of this being another (small) chapter in the book relating to what you need to know to thrive in the networked world. If you haven’t read the MacArthur white paper, "Confronting the Challenges of Participatory Culture: Media Education for the 21st Century," do it now. I mean it. Right now. I can’t stress strongly enough the importance of this piece.

According to Henry Jenkins (the primary author, blog here), the new skills required to flourish in a culture of participationare:

• Play— the capacity to experiment with one’s surroundings as a form of problem-solving
• Performance— the ability to adopt alternative identities for the purpose of improvisation and discovery 
• Simulation— the ability to interpret and construct dynamic models of real-world processes 
• Appropriation— the ability to meaningfully sample and remix media content 
• Multitasking— the ability to scan one’s environment and shift focus as needed to salient details. 
• Distributed Cognition— the ability to interact meaningfully with tools that expand mental capacities 
• Collective Intelligence— the ability to pool knowledge and compare notes with others toward a common goal 
• Judgment— the ability to evaluate the reliability and credibility of different information sources 
• Transmedia Navigation— the ability to follow the flow of stories and information across multiple modalities 
• Networking— the ability to search for,synthesize,and disseminate information 
• Negotiation— the ability to travel across diverse communities,discerning and respecting multiple perspectives,and grasping and following alternative norms. 

As far as these Skills 2.0 go, the original MTYM promoted play (for sure) and (possibly) performance, in a fuzzy sense of the word. Add in the requirements for The Superest, and you’ve got simulation (drawing that moves from pen-to-web), distributed cognition (understanding the web/blog tools necessary to put the pics "out there"), collective intelligence (you need at least two players) and networking (duh). Bayou Battle takes that and adds appropriation (modding pics), transmedia navigation (finding pics in places other than the original blog/site), and (probably) negotiation, since it is an open blog.

I find this absolutely fascinating. And not just because me and the boy came up with the original game. That’s just a good excuse for why I’m paying attention to this nanomeme. It makes me wonder what would happen if teachers took any learning activity and tried, consciously, to adapt it such that it addressed as many of the above skills as possible. If something as simple as MTYT can move so fluidly and effortlessly into 2.0-Land, what would happen if someone with real pedagogical chops took a swing at the classic curricula?

Makes me wonder what I could do with TaleWeaver to turn it all 2.0-y.  

I am fantastically and wonderfully glad (and proud) to announce that the game my son and I made up one night at Bob Evans on the back of a paper menu has a site devoted to its play.

Check out: TheSuperest.com

An ongoing match of My Team, Your Team. 

These are actual artists, people. Which is scary. I don’t know if my powers of superness will be super enough to be superest…

Truly spectacular props to the creators, Kevin Cornell and Matthew Sutter. These guys are funny, smart and Dan and I will totally kick their BUTTS if they just come to Ohio and sit down in a greasy spoon w/ us over a plate of eggs and sausage gravy.

My next thought is that a site where anybody can create an account and link to Flickr pics (or whatever) with indications of who they "beat" w/ that picture. We’ll see…. Hmmm….

Anyway, my thanks to Kevin and Matthew for propogating the joy that is My Team, Your Team. And may the best toon win. 

My folks bought my son the boardgame "Sorry" for his birthday earlier this month. Dan and I took it out the other night to play… and could not find the instructions. Well, the English instructions. The ones in Spanish were on a nice piece of paper floating in the box.

I don’t speak or read Spanish, so… there you are. In typical Havens fashion, we decided to make up rules on the spot.

The details of the ones we made up don’t really matter. They weren’t spectacularly weird or wonderful… they used the number cards and the pieces in basically the manner perscribed by the game. But they were a bit funkier. [Note: later, when attempting to put the pieces back in the box upside-down, we discovered that the English rules were printed on the bottom-side of the smaller, inner cardboard box that holds the board. Had we not screwed up the puting-stuff-back procedure, we never would have found them.]

This isn’t new for us. More than a year ago, we made up a version of "Reverse Checkers," that I refer to as, "Jump-Me!" The rules of checkers (at least as I’ve always played it) state that if you can jump an opponent’s piece, you must. Well, hearing this, Dan and I came up with the idea for a game where you move, jump and king the exact same way… but where the winner is the one who maneuvers the other into eliminating all of his pieces; i.e., the one with no checkers left wins. A friend of mine, after hearing about this, referred to it as "Golf Checkers," since you want to have fewer pieces.

Years ago, while camping in the Berkshires, I had a good friend who worked at the camp. Warren and I would play all kinds of games, but our favorite was Risk. Problem is, with just two of us, Risk rules (as written) were less than optimal; the game really requires 3-6 players for any kind of strategic considerations. So we added a few twists of our own. We came up with "rogue state" rules where smaller, randomly developed nations/players could turn the tide of the game. We added navies and paratroopers. All kinds of stuff.

We also invented war games that used generic game elements that were always laying about; a deck or two of playing cards, dice, etc. We developed a very complex naval combat game using only two decks of cards and two six-sided dice. And a bunch of tables/charts about damage allocation. But it needed no board, as the position of the cards on the table relative to each other determined distances.

My point is basically this: games are great and fun and I love them. But if you’re just playing games, you’re missing out. You need to play with games as well. By farting around with the rules and coming up with alternate ways to play, you create something unique and possibly more entertaining. You think about meta-gaming, play balance, rule theory, etc. Even if you don’t know you’re doing those things, they are helpful creativity exercises.

So here’s today’s assignment: make up a game. Use an existing game like "Sorry," or pieces from several or many, or just a pen and some paper.

Last example: I’ve taught my son that whenever he plays rock-paper-scissors, he should skip those three and point a finger-gun at his opponent instead. Of course they’ll have to redo the round. But it’s funny and it points out the boundaries between metaphorical power and real power.

Plus, we all know that rock really beats paper, anyway…

Interesting discussion going on over at Terra Nova about the idea of academic tenure vs. business acumen.

The idea that a tenured professor is necessarily a good teacher is as laughable as the idea that a VP is necessarily good at managing people. In many cases in both academia and the business world, the skills necessary for advancement are often be quite separate from the skills necessary for mastery.

I had great English professors at Cornell; I went there specifically because the undergrad writing program was widely praised as one of the best in the country. The profs could write (many were widely published novelists, writers for the screen, poets, etc.) and could teach. In some of my other classes… not so much. I remember specifically a _______ professor who was hired for publishing cred, but who may have been the worst teacher I’ve ever known. Friends of mine in the major said that it was a total coup to have gotten this prof… but I dropped the class because her pedagogical technique consisted of asking questions, nodding while you answered, and then slamming you for being totally wrong. This was in a Freshman intro course, which should be a place to get kids interested in a subject, not a forum for constant haranguing.

On the flip side, I’ve known people in business who are great teachers. Some have had actual classroom experience, some are just gifted.

The problem is (and may always be) that rigid authority isn’t particularly good at the margins. And the margins are often where the most interesting work takes place.

I teach history of advertising (and have taught marketing) as an adjunct professor at the Columbus College of Art and Design (www.ccad.edu), one of the best fine arts colleges in the country. They specifically design their overall curricula to bring in business people from a variety of related industries in order to broaden the exposure of the students to people "not like them;" ie, not artists.

I am by no means an artist. I write and do some decent layout… but these kids are truly talented artists. Why should CCAD hire a non-artist, non-teacher to come in and yap and them? Why should my course be required for students in the advertising major? Because I look a lot like what their bosses will look like. They will do better having spent some time around a budget-conscious, client-side, results-focused project manager type goon.

Which brings me to my actual point: good organizations (in both academia and business) need to think about the *overall* goals more, in addition to the specific requirements of a particular position.

If you’re teaching game design and have a faculty of 12 and none of them have industry experience… hmmm… might be a bit unbalanced on the academic side. If you’re a business and you have nobody on your staff with some higher larnin’… you probably aren’t going to push some interesting envelopes.

The margins where disparate areas touch are often the most fertile for creativity. If you only have one kind of person in your gang, you ain’t got no margins. Diversify to succeed. 

Since it’s the 4th of July, I thought I’d wax philosophic on the role of freedom in creativity.

Question? What is freedom? My dictionary gives me two definitions:

• The power to act or speak or think without externally imposed restraints
• Immunity from an obligation or duty

Note that both definitions are negative. "Without… restraints. "Immunity from…" Those make sense when applied to specific restraints, obligations or duties, for sure. In the case of, for example, a legal relationship, freedom would mean that you don’t have restraints imposed by the law on what you can say or do. If I am "freed" from a contract, it is no longer my duty to act within its bounds.

But we use the word in all kinds of vague, poetic, patriotic and aspirational ways. We want to be free. We live in the land of the free. We want freedom of expression, thought, religion, etc. But, again, when pressed… I think most people would equate these freedoms as expressions of double-negatives.

• Freedom of religion = no negative effects from exercising a particular religion, or none at all.
• Freedom of speech = not being punished for saying something unpopular
• Freedom of assembly = not having your ass kicked by riot police while holding a meeting

See? Those are all double negatives. And positive, aspirational statements expressed chiefly as double negatives are generally less specific, less helpful and less directional than positive statements that can be actually applied to one’s creative endeavors.

Do I want freedom of creativity? Sure. I guess. I don’t want bad things (double negative) to interfere with my creativity. I’d prefer that the state (or other authorities) not put unreasonable restrictions on what I can think, do and create. But, again… once you have that "I don’t want bad stuff" double negative in there… what does it mean for the process? How does it apply?

I believe that freedom of creation cannot exist — and certainly cannot thrive — without limits (negative forces) on your creativity that you understand, accept and embrace. And that by consciously balancing those restrictive forces, you actually become more ably creative.

I’ve said before that creativity, in general, involves breaking apart non-creative, natural or ordinary elements and putting them back together differently. Good writing takes familiar words, concepts, situations and characters and assembles them in surprising ways in order to provide a new, interesting vision to readers. In doing so, that creative act inflicts violent destruction on the old ways of thought or lack-of-thought that readers held. It destroys the previous space.

Same for the visual arts. A purely narrative photograph, intended to show a product or scene for informative purposes, may not be very creative. By applying various filters through whatever media is used, artists, however, change the scene in order to give us clues as to their vision. In doing so, they destroy the "pure reportage" angle and add elements from other pallettes.

We don’t think of this as violence or destruction, because many times the result is something we find pleasing, interesting or informative. Which is great. But the foundation of those good feelings is an act which, though largely unnoticed, broke apart previous models.

The audience isn’t really supposed to notice, except in the most extreme cases of shock art or genre-busting projects. The break/build sequence is like water in a cave drawing lime into pillars over time. Where before there were separate sets of rock, air and water… now there is a brilliant new structure, built upon the destruction of the singular elements.

What does this have to do with freedom? Well, if creativity is destructive in some sense, and freedom is the power to act without restraint, than perfect creative freedom would be the  ability to artistically destroy… well… everything. Which is clearly not particularly artistic.

For example, as a writer, I am free to use words in whatever order I choose. If I assemble them in new, interesting and meaningful ways — such as in a good poem — I have destroyed/created in a manner as to allow my readers to enjoy the process. If I just destroy, however, I may end up with a sequence of words which makes no damned sense to anyone.

Perfect freedom = no restraints = chaos.

What, then, is a good balance of freedom vs. restraint for the creative process? I think that you learn the most by accepting the most restraints. That if you create within the confines of very specific requirements, you will eventually learn to create with much more freedom. I’ve said before (especially as it regards marketing), that before engaging in "out-of-the-box thinking," you have to really, really understand the box. Because it’s there for a reason. And to understand the box, you need to completely accept its limitations and restrictions. You have to become un-free.

Why? Because freedom without restriction is license, and not art. It is chaos. Which can be fun and has a place on the 4th of July, for sure. We celebrate with fireworks and booze the fact of our independence, our freedom from another country. The rules and laws of our freedoms (and responsibilities) are complex and, often, odd. But today, we simply celebrate the fact of freedom; maybe symbolically, maybe immaturely. That’s OK. Celebration is not meant to be particularly balanced.

But creativity must be. And my guess is that the guys in charge of the most professional and amazing fireworks displays — the guys creating sky art — are not drinking too much before they handle their explosives. And that the gorgeous displays of light and fire we’ll all watch tonight as part of our feelings of freedom are very, very controlled in their creation.

So as we "creative types" celebrate the fact that we live in a great country that allows us to act, speak and create without many negative, artificial constraints… let us also celebrate the restraints we can and must apply to our own works in order to better serve our audiences, and create more fantastic displays of glory.

Thanks to a post at Raph’s blog, I found an article/story at the Washington Post that can be summarized pretty quickly for you:

Paper hires world-famous violinist to play great classical works incommunicado at rush-hour in public on famous violin for 45 minutes. Most people pass paying no attention. A very, very, very few stop their business and actually listen. Paper waxes on about American busyness, lack of appreciation for beauty, inability to stop and smell the flowers, etc. References to Kant.

Or you can read the whole thing if you like.

The whole tone of the article is pretty smarmy. Go figure, it’s the Post. Start with the title of the piece, “Pearls Before Breakfast.” Nice.

I know for a fact that I would have been one of the people who hurried by in that metro station. Unless I was in DC on vacation, and hanging out at the Au Bon Pain they mention, having a coffee, waiting for someone, maybe reading a book. I’ve stopped, in the past, and spent 30 minutes listening to street musicians.

• When I’ve had time.
• When I’ve been in a situation that allowed.
• When there’s been a place to sit.
• When the music wasn’t too loud or obnoxious
• When I’ve felt safe
• When I had a couple bucks on me I could spare, and
• When the music was in a language I spoke

All of these things make up the frame for an event like this, the last being the most important, I think. We call it “frame-of-reference” sometimes, but you don’t even need to go that far. “Framing” is enough. The Post article uses the term, and does some good work making the point that, out of context, lots of art loses some of its value to us; we just aren’t “ready” to appreciate great paintings in a Subway, or great classical violin work in the metro.

I enjoy some classical. I own about 15 classical music albums. I love almost all Mozart, some Beethoven, Holst’s “The Planets,” and a few of Debussy’s more well-known works. I also have some neat Yo-Yo Ma, where he blends classical with American Folk. Don’t know if that counts. Don’t care. I have been to… maybe… a dozen classical music concerts in my life, not counting times I’ve gone to see something because it included a performer I personally knew. I will listen to a classical music station on the radio if the choice is that, Country & Western, Talk Radio, or some of the more extreme varieties of Heavy Metal, Hip Hop, etc. etc.

I’m explaining this because I’m trying to establish *my* frame. To put a face on all those people — and the Post does this, too — who walked right by the famous violinist. But none of those people were asked, I think, the right question. Which would be…

Do you speak classical music?

Of the three people that did stop, and did take the time to listen, two were trained in classical music. The one that the Post describes as “the cultural hero of the day,” says of the musician, “This was a superb violinist. I’ve never heard anyone of that caliber. He was technically proficient, with very good phrasing. He had a good fiddle, too, with a big, lush sound.”

And the Post says further of the man, “[He] knows classical music. He is a fan of Joshua Bell but didn’t recognize him… But he knew this was not a run-of-the-mill guy out there, performing… When [he] was growing up in New York, he studied violin seriously, intending to be a concert musician.”

Right. This is a guy who speaks the language.

But here’s the thing… I’m not sure most of the people in that story — nor I, and I think I probably am above-average in terms of classical appreciation — would have understood the performance in situations even 1 or 2 orders-of-magnitude more appropriately “framed.” I think it’s a flawed experiment, because “classical music” is a language that is almost as unspoken as Latin as far as most people are concerned today.

Let’s take it up a notch. Suppose you went to all those people that passed by this guy in the subway. And you said to them, “Hey… there’s a guy, really good violinist but unknown, playing at lunch today at my kid’s school. He’s fantastic. It’s just $5 for 30 minutes, but I hear he’s great.”

More context, yes? More framing? Sure. I still bet you’d get very few takers.

Let’s kick it almost all the way up. Stop all those people. Tell them who Joshua Bell is. How famous he is. And that he’s playing a Strad. And tell them that you’ve got tickets to see him for $25 instead of the usual $100 - $150. But you’ve got to go see him tonight.

Again, I bet the Post, and Mr. Bell, would be surprised at how few takers they’d get. But I wouldn’t.

And not because I believe that all those fast-walking, too-busy commuters — and me! — are the “swine” that the title of the story implies. But because our frame doesn’t include an easy knowledge of how to appreciate what Joshua does so well. Our box and his box don’t overlap in that area.

Our box contains more pop music. Yo-Yo Ma ha seen this, and has done some interesting things, career-wise, to do some gigs with pop performers. This helps get him into our box. The “Three Tenors” have done the same. The Boston Pops have done more, I think, for widening an appreciation of classical music than any other modern organization.

The person the Post article describes as “the cultural hero” of the experiment clearly does “speak” classical music. His frame includes that language. He says, “This was a superb violinist. I’ve never heard anyone of that caliber. He was technically proficient, with very good phrasing. He had a good fiddle, too, with a big, lush sound.”

And the Post tells us of this listener, “[He] knows classical music. He is a fan of Joshua Bell but didn’t recognize him… But he knew this was not a run-of-the-mill guy out there, performing… When [he] was growing up in New York, he studied violin seriously, intending to be a concert musician.”

Right. This is a guy who understands the music, even outside all kinds of normal framing elements. Because he is a native speaker. He is fluent. Most of us aren’t.

If you are working in a creative field, or want to be more creative… yes, it is a great idea to learn new “languages.” To pick up new frames. To become familiar with different boxes. When I left 10+ years in retail marketing, I did so specifically to get into not just a new industry, but a new category — B2B; professional services marketing. I wanted to stretch; to learn a new “marketing language.”

When I started my “TaleWeaver” project, I gave myself the task of writing 100, short, rhyming, tightly-metered poems. Why? Because most of my poetry previous to that was unrhymed, fairly loose verse. It was important, I thought, to at least be comfortable in another “poetic language.” My poetry since then has incorporated much more meter and rhyme… when I choose to.

What are some ways you might (fairly painlessly) learn something about different languages? Here’s some thoughts…

• If you predominantly read one kind of fiction (sci-fi, mystery, etc.), pick another kind and read at least 5 books in that genre. C’mon… life is short. Live differently, vicariously, a little.
• If you read predominantly fiction, read some biography or history or pop-science for the next 5 books. If it’s the other way, reverse it.
• Read all of a poet’s work, chronologically, over the course of a month or two. Power it down. It’s hard, I know. Poetry is thick. But to get into a poet’s voice, you really have to live it it for awhile. Figure out how many pages it is, divide by 30 (or 60) and set yourself a goal. Poetry really is, for most modern people, a foreign country. Try it though (along with a reference work on the poet, if you like), and you’ll find yourself viewing the entire world very differently for that month or two.
• Find a film that you really, really like. Figure out who was the cinematographer. For example, I love Terry Gilliam’s “Brazil.” Roger Pratt shot it. Go watch other, more obscure films by that cinematographer. You will find, I think, that there are things you’ll like, even if you don’t really love the story or actors. Watch the movie as a series of images; as if you were the friend of the guy behind the camera. It changes how you see things.
• Pick a craft you know nothing about and have no interest in maintaining, and try to complete 3 simple, stand-alone projects in it over the course of a month. Many people pick hobbies based on, “Do I want to do this for the rest of my life?” That’s fine… for a hobby you want to do for the rest of your life. But there are many fine skills you can pick up from “a bit o’ this, a bit o’ that” type learning. And you may also find that there are crafts you want to have as a part-time hobby. Check out the list of all Dummy titles related to hobbies.
• Pick a country you know nothing about, research it for a week, and then (as much as is reasonable), “speak it” for a week. Eat food from there, listen to its music, read its authors and poets, keep up on the news, etc. This is all much easier because of teh Intertubes, of course. This is “horizontal” learning.
• Do the same thing as the last bullet, but with a time-period as well as a country.

I’m all for learning “new languages.” And I think, as a nation/culture, we are vastly undereducated in music and the arts. My kid’s school only gives him one hour of music a week, and art has been cut back to one hour every other week, so that he can start in on “computers” on the off weeks. All this to make more time for “No Child Left Untested.” Bad, bad, bad. Yes, please, Washington Post… more art/music education in our public schools.

But there is a place for learning new languages of thought. A place for breaking of barriers and getting out of one’s box. And it is not in the middle of rush hour, in a subway, with a 20-second snippet of a dead language that is rarely heard and almost never spoken by the passers by.

I appreciate that the Post gave me the nugget for this post. But they can take their pearls and kiss my bourgeois pork. Today, at 9:17 am, on my way to the grind, we have the naming of parts.

– Facilius est multa facere quam diu.
Quintilianus

– Estne volumen in toga, an solum tibi libet me videre?
Dangerfield

Creativity is largely misunderstood in our culture, if not in all cultures. There is a mystique about it that we attribute to artists and craftspeople who “create” something from nothing; paintings, poetry, stories, music, etc. And while those activities are clearly creative ones, doing those things, in and of themselves, is not necessarily “creative,” but merely “crafty.”

You can write, for example, a highly derivative song, or one that isn’t very good. You can paint a hyper-realistic painting — one that requires an amazing amount of craft-skill — but that says nothing that a camera couldn’t say about the view that you’re reproducing. Those acts aren’t particularly creative, though they may require certain unique and specialized skills often associated with people who are also creative.

That’s the tricky part. People who are creative often find ways to express those urges that require deep craft skills. Why? Because the demands of creativity are harsh and often intense. If you need to say, write, sing, paint, draw — create — something perfectly, you need those tools to be very, very good.

The tools you bring to the creative process are “the box.”

What am I babbling about today? People are always talking about “out of the box thinking.” That’s fine. It’s good to not be bounded by custom or routine. Problem is, to be truly creative — and not just random — you need to really understand the box before you can get out of it. Otherwise, how do you know if you’re out of it, or just standing inside it upside down? Or if you have one foot inside and one outside? Or if you’re just in another box very similar to the one you’re trying to get out of?

Part of the myth of creativity is that “creative types” can kind of “float away” from the bonds of surly normality, loosening the grip of those mundane, typical ideas that keep most people pasted to common, ordinary ideas. “He’s so creative,” we’ll hear about someone like that. “His ideas are so different.” Well, to have different ideas, you need to know or have heard of the regular ideas first. And you need to know why some of them worked, and some didn’t. It’s no good coming up with a wildly different idea that somebody else has already tried, but that has already failed. That’s not creativity; that’s stupidity. That’s no knowing that over there, on that side of the outside of the box, there be dragons.

When I was studying writing in school, we had to practice writing all kinds of verse that we didn’t necessarily want to write on our own. At the time, I was not enamored of rhyming poetry. And I didn’t like being assigned to write it. But being forced to write it gave me something; the ability to understand it much better, and to choose to write it or not. So now, I know that box better. I can get out of it, or not. But if I hadn’t been forced to learn about that box (rhyming verse), I couldn’t claim to be “getting out of it” when I write non-rhyming verse… it’s not a creative act to do so. It’s an ignorant act.

So the first step to freeing yourself from any kind of artificial construct is to understand it enough to be at least competent in it. To understand why someone else might choose to use it. That way, if you want to reject it, you’re doing so because of a conscious choice, not because it’s not a color you have in your palette.

A nice link from the Purple Motes blog related to my continuous partial attention post of a few days ago provides the following info:

Until the 1820s (when candle technology started to improve markedly), both wax and tallow candles needed frequent “snuffing.” We commonly misunderstand the term snuffing today — it did not mean to put a candle flame out; instead, it meant to trim the candle’s wick. If one did not snuff frequently, then the wick would grow longer as the wax melted, curving over toward the small wall of solid material holding in the melted wax or tallow. The curving wick would then melt the wall, causing the molten material to flow down the candle and be lost. This phenomenon was called “guttering,” and it ensured that the candle burned less efficiently and for a shorter time. Tallow candles left unattended might use just five percent of their material and gutter out within half an hour. …the point is that reading was regularly interrupted — perhaps every ten minutes or so — by the need to snuff a candle.[1]

This was in relation, I assume, to my musing over whether or not other ages were as distracted as we, but just differently so.
Point nicely made. I had assumed as much, and go on assuming that there are additional examples of how BB peoples (Before Blackberries) had much on their minds.

About the only way I can think of really measuring a change in the level of distractedness, is by applying it to myself over the course of my lifetime. Am I more distracted at 40 than I was, say, at 16 or 25? I’m not sure. I feel more harried at times, yes. But very little of that has to do with the state of my tools and media choices. It’s more about having a kid and a job that has more responsibility than I had at 16 or 25.

And I certainly remember being pretty distracted, harried and hyper-busy in college, even though I had no access to MySpace, IM a cell phone or email.

So I don’t know if the delta-frantic in my life is an age thing or an Age thing. And I don’t know if all people, throughout history, have either felt, in general, more hectic and pressured as their lives have progressed, or if it’s a symptom of our Modern Age.

I have, as I see it, one choice: to master the tools and skills that I feel are helpful, and to limit my interactions with those that I feel are distracting.

Which brings us back to the box. Which we’ll get to shortly.

Note:

[1] [1] Eliot, Simon (2001), “‘Never Mind the Value, What about the Price?”; Or, How Much Did Marmion Cost St. John Rivers?” Nineteenth-Century Literature, Vol. 56, No. 2, pp. 173, 177.