something to believe in

a mantra runs through my head every time i see a cat meme, a kanye-kardashian post, a venom-fueled tangerine tirade or coverage of yet another crime scene in chicago.

we are better than this. as a society and as individuals, we don't have to accept the status quo, served up to us in bite-sized fleeting moments of ephemera.

don't get me wrong. i enjoy, even need, a good mindless chuckle on the regular, but it's always fleeting. a temporary moment of escape or denial that ultimately leaves me wanting more. missing something to make sense of the overwhelming madness in this world.

one need only to look around this glorious city of ours to see how creative acts—greats works of art, architecture and design—transcend time, embody the best of human ingenuity, inspire us, anchor us in history while propelling us forward toward future possibility.

the best architecture stands for something: at once grounding us in the physical, the tangible, the aesthetically beautiful, while simultaneously elevating our gaze and thoughts upward, toward our best selves, toward what we couldn’t have imagined possible if it weren’t staring us squarely in the eye.

how do you make the impossible possible? how do you defy gravity? fight the laws of science and physics? artfully layer tons upon tons of iron and steel into a weightless edifice rising stories into the sky? how do you fight fake news and every instinct in your bones that good is now bad and all is lost?

i believe skyscrapers and buildings, they are far more than mere physical structures or monuments to those who designed or commissioned them. they can serve as change agents, connectors, catalysts for good—incredible forces that have the power to change how we experience the world, and each other. how we perceive hope in a hopeless world.

lately I’ve been marveling at how, in this digital world of bytes and bots, analytics and AI, i am increasingly anchored by the opposite. the analog. actions and artifice that take up physical space. things i can see, feel, touch. timeless beauty, that forms an impenetrable barrier against the BS.

the ground is shifting beneath our feet daily. what’s up is left, and red is down. every day there is something new, something wrong, something wretched to contend with. 

but comfort exists among the clouds. amidst the sleeping giants and gorgeous facades. examples set by buildings that have weathered countless storms... and withstood the torrent and the test of time. 

we, like them, have no choice but to rise above. 

that moment

it must have been divine intervention. how could you not think so… as your eyes gaze upward, a glimpse of heaven spreading out before you. on that ceiling, the sacred stories upon which entire religions were born, all told here in radiant pastel perfection.

yet he was a man. i wondered if he appreciated the magnitude in that moment—as he rubbed his strained neck and mopped his weary brow—of what his work would ultimately become. lying on his back, painting by candlelight, reveling in periods of progress and working through setbacks on a scaffolding high above. the end result: a masterpiece. the pinnacle. his ultimate vision fully realized after literally years in the making.

tucked away in a corner of the vast vatican museum hallways, amid miles and miles of tromp l’oeil ceilings and gleaming gilded frames, is a fragment, a sketch, of a man standing, head turned upward, brush in hand.

the man was michelangelo, and the graphic replicated from a letter he had written to a friend while painting the ceiling of the sistine chapel.

a few simple strokes of black along with words penned to a friend revealed volumes about the man, behind the masterpiece.

during the creation he vacillated between utter clarity and self-doubt, pressure to fulfill others’ demands and resolve to stay true to himself.  in his own words:

“every gesture i make is blind and aimless…my painting is dead…
i am not in the right place—i am not a painter.”

one of the greatest artists who ever lived, questioning, throwing punches in dark, with only his heart and the vision in his head to guide him. this beauty he created is now a beacon, yet the end product we all admire was the result of courage, endurance, guts and grit, behind the scenes. he encountered supporters and skeptics along the way, but in the end he had only one choice. to drown out the noise, all other voices—and stay true to the one inside himself.

ever since i was young, i’ve always been fascinated by biographies—barbara walters, behind the music—the story behind the story, of people who’ve reached success and fame, the so-called status of “having it all.” yet 9 times out of 10, a glimpse behind the curtain reveals that it wasn’t just their god-given brilliance or amazing talent or fate shining down upon them with good fortune, but rather their resolve: to overcome fear, failure, rejection, redemption, heartache or loss. finding their way meant walking, pushing, stumbling forward, despite not knowing what lay ahead.

when you’re in the weeds, in the thick of it, grinding it out just to get through each day, it’s nearly impossible to see the light at the end of the tunnel, to know whether the final product will be what you envisioned.

yet despite the uncertainty, you have a choice: to stay safe... or forge ahead through the darkness. rely on what you’ve learned. trust your gut. stay true to your instincts and your truth. lean on those closest when you feel you can’t go on. have faith that everything will work out—perhaps not as you planned, but always always as they should be.

every line, every brushstroke, every blemish or mistake, acknowledged then let go of – all contribute to the masterpiece that is your life. it’s not just a passive exercise of watching things unfold. it’s acting, in little and big ways, with intention.

the act of creation—be it a tiny project or grand plan, a work of art or simply a day lived without regret—may be touched, ever so briefly, by glimpses of grace. but in the end, if it’s meant to be, it’s up to you. 

the happy show

when you work in an office, it’s easy to get sucked into the vortex. meetings and email, staring at your computer screen for literally hours on end, perfecting the assprint in your non-ergonomic chair and spilling crumbs onto your keyboard as you clumsily scarf up a sandwich while typing and chewing simultaneously.

frustrated and uninspired, i resolved to make a conscious effort—particularly in times of stress or duress—to get up out of my chair and take a walk outside. at a minimum, it would be a few minutes to get some fresh air and clear my head, and if i was lucky, hopefully stumble on something more than simply relief from the daily grind—possibly even inspiration?   

a couple months ago, some creatives in my office were buzzing about an exhibit at the chicago cultural center, a landmark building that features a revolving schedule of free lectures, films and art exhibits. given its proximity to my building—literally one block away—it was a no-brainer. spending my lunch hour staring at some cool typography would be a welcome diversion from the blinding pain of another powerpoint.

“the happy show” is the culmination of visual artist stefan sagmeister’s 10 year-long exploration of happiness through typography, video, sculpture and interactive installations. his ultimate quest: to discover whether it’s possible to train your mind like you train your body—to be happy.

it struck me that “the happy show” was an odd title, suggesting a tv program or movie, a state of being where we passively watch the storyline play out versus actively create an outcome. yet the installations seemed to present an entirely different conclusion altogether.

when i got to the exhibit, i was immediately transported. upon entering the huge, open loft, i was enveloped by this sweet, ethereal music. the sound didn’t seem to come from anywhere in particular, but rather filled the space with lightness, air, the perfect backdrop to ponder such existential questions: what does happiness mean? does it vary between men and women? what conditions are required to achieve a state of bliss? what are the barriers?

one of the focal points of the exhibit was a giant installation of neon letters that spelled out the phrase: “my overall level of satisfaction.”

connected to the words was a bicycle that viewers were invited to sit on. as you began to peddle, other phrases would shine brighter, glowing with intensity.

another installation: an electric outlet with the accompanying words scribbled:

and on a massive wall, white post-its were artfully arranged and 3 separate fans gently blew on the paper in a billowy, cascade of movement. you had to step back to decode the message. “uselessness is gorgeous.”

accompanying the arresting visual display, his method for manufacturing happiness: 

"i came up with a repeatable technique to artificially produce a moment of bliss: take a scooter, drive it on a beautiful road with little traffic so i can ride without a helmet and feel the wind in my hair while listening to about a dozen carefully selected songs, music that i don't know well (so it won't have any baggage) but am likely going to like. and very important: there can be no purpose to the drive, just cruising without any goal. this recipe would send shivers down my spine every time.

to do something without any goal and without any function has its own beauty. it's the difference between a walk in the park and a commute. it's the difference between art and design." 

the overall point: happiness doesn’t simply happen to you. you have to work at it. stop to consider the conditions and people who ignite that feeling within you. find the stimulus. or create it.

after meandering through the installations, you are then guided to another room, a huge cavernous space containing nothing but two massive inflatable gorillas. the first one held a sign that simply said “EVERYONE.”  think about it. we all have hopes and dreams, stuff we’re passionate about or simply curious to try. but how often do we stop ourselves, self-censor, chicken out, for fear that “everyone” will judge or laugh or see us as the failure that we’re convinced we’ll be if we dare step out of the comfortable cocoon of complacency? the big fat hairy gorilla in the room is “everyone.”

sometimes art can be pretentious or simply too precious—caught up in its own beauty or self-importance. but this exhibit really spoke to me. the universality of the theme. the accessibility of his message.

happiness isn’t a cloud, an ethereal thing that floats above, taunting us through objects and things we think we want. it’s a conscious decision. an action. it’s work. simplicity. human connection. relationships over things. amazingly beautiful.

in our control.

a lasting impression

instagram is today’s impressionism.

i know this statement is going to make my friend jeremy—the purist, resident “artiste,” designer, painter, guardian of the craft—go ballistic.

he’ll call BS. accuse me of blasphemy. and probably send me a single-spaced tirade about the sanctity of art with a capital “A.”

and he may be right…

maybe i’m just trying to justify my insta-addiction. but just hear me out and then you can be the judge.

capturing a moment

my office is literally a stone’s throw away from the art institute of chicago. the museum houses one of the most renowned impressionist collections in the world. from monet to manet, degas to seurat, the halls are lined with gorgeous paintings that capture moments, “impressions.” far from realistic, they express the light, the mood, the feeling, of an instant in time.

there’s no denying that these masters were genius in their application of color to canvas. and i wouldn’t dream of implying that a canned set of filters can fill that chasm. but in the end, moments captured and shared are what instagram is all about.

some go #hashtag hogwild in the quest for social likes—and surely this fuels the argument for why insta can never be high art. point taken…but to me, it’s not a numbers game.

measuring what matters

in our digital world, technology has given us endless tools to measure ourselves, add up our value in the form of numbers: likes, followers, tweets, retweets, fuel points, klout scores, calories consumed and burned, and on and on.

the trend is called the “quantified self,” and the theory goes that by giving us the data against which to benchmark ourselves, we can track and continually improve our health, fitness, and even self-esteem. thanks to facebook, we can all queue up sally field at the oscars: “you like me. you really like me!”

here’s the thing: i’ve never been a numbers person. yep, even though i was in honors calculus, i’m that girl, who pawns off the check to anyone at the table just so i don’t have to calculate the tip. for me, and i think most of my friends who are passionate about it, instagram is not about quantity at all—but rather the totality of your perspective.

the big picture

consider seurat’s “sunday afternoon on la grande jatte.” in the impressionist wing, the massive canvas pulls you in to one of the most famous scenes painted during the period. seurat pioneered pointillism, the technique in which dots replace brushstrokes, and are meticulously assembled to reveal the larger image.

each point on the canvas is finite, yet essential to the entire composition. i don’t care how many dots there are, but i see what he sees. i feel what he is feeling…in the moment. and i gain a glimpse—from this single impression—into his perspective on the bigger picture.

moments that make up a life

instagram is similar. it’s about capturing the mood, the feeling, your impression of a moment in time. but what really matters is those impressions over time. instead of focusing on the number of shots (and yes i have thousands) or likes or shares, one of my favorite things to do is zoom out. look at the broad mosaic of images—monumental and mundane—that make up a life. it’s not about the quantity, but the quality of those moments, and the satisfaction of knowing that i was present in them. 

that, to me, is art. the art of living.

the power of design

frames. they’re just a set of frames on a wall. so what is it about great design that stirs something inside of us?

whether an amazing interior, a fashion collection or a brand, how can simply arranging various elements—be it objects, furniture, words or images—turn ordinary things into visceral experiences, candy for the eyes, inspiration for our lives.

sure there’s beauty. but more than that, it’s the possibility. seeing things differently. making connections, and often, random associations. expressing a vision that is truly unique.

people often think that either “you’ve got it or you don’t.” but it’s important to remember that it’s not just pure artistry….but also a process. of defining your ethos—at the core, what you stand for. of collecting artifacts that you’re drawn to. of piecing them together to express a cohesive point of view. of making the exterior reflect your interior.

designers use moodboards as an essential tool in the creative process. rather than a literal representation, they serve as a centering point, capturing—well, the mood—the tone, color, texture, the feeling of the experience they are striving to create.

here are some fantastic examples:

kelly wearstler, who designed the interior of the viceroy hotel (picture above), started a blog called mylifemyvibe, devoted to offering a glimpse into her process and the "vibe trays" she creates for inspiration.

michael kors moodboard for vogue from his fall 2010 collection.

narciso rodgriguez fall 2010 inspiration

donna karan black cashmere perfume, inspired by the black pebbles at her hamptons home.

the lesson: inspiration can come from anywhere. it’s just about opening yourself up to it. finding it in unexpected places, time periods, objects, people. you don't have to be a designer to experiment. seek it out. and make it your own.

unleashing the prisoner

new year. new promises. it’s that time of year again, when we take stock of our lives: reflect on the blessings and isolate the areas for improvement. we resolve to exercise more. eat healthier.  save money. give time—to friends, family or whatever it is you neglected over the course of the previous year.

for most of us, the annual period of self-reflection is not about reinventing oneself, but rather, just striving to be better. it’s not about perfection, but perspective. perseverance. perpetual discovery. not an end goal, but a process.

in reflecting on it, my mind immediately went to florence. go figure: new year, rebirth, the renaissance. but what specifically came to mind were the figures above: “i prigioni” (the prisoners), amazing unfinished sculptures by michelangelo. they sit, unassumingly, in a long hallway of the galleria dell'academia that ultimately leads to the iconic masterpiece, david.

while thousands of people each year stampede forward, striving to experience the perfection that is david, many overlook the beauty of a different kind. beauty that stands in contrast to the gorgeous, idealized statues that adorn every other inch of the hall.

the prisoners are rough. slabs of carrara marble with human forms struggling to break free. in fact, it was michelangelo’s belief that he didn’t sculpt figures into marble at all: he liberated them out of it. chipping away slowly and artfully to expose the being within.

they’re moving. in flux. unresolved, yet full of potential. unfinished works of art.

much like us. perfection is an ideal. a goal to strive for. a source of inspiration. but it’s not real life—with its bumps, hard edges, blemishes and barriers. it’s not about the end game, but the process. each year, each day, both successes and failures help us to chip away, to unearth, to unleash what is captive within us.

hopefully it’s a little bit stronger. a little bit wiser. a little bit better you.