Tiny Gigantic

As part of our pursuit to keep creativity alive and kicking, we’ve been doing Muay Thai kick boxing for the past 8 months or so. And I’m not talking cardio-kickboxing either. I’m talking pads and headgear and a nagging fear that one of these days, your sparring partner’s gonna make you sterile.

We do it because sitting in front of a computer every day is as bad for your body as it is for your mind. We do it because it’s fun. And we do it because there’s nothing like taking a solid kick to the head to keep you in the moment, open you up to new ways of doing, and lay bare your weaknesses.

Many of us walk around with a deep-seated belief that if we ever had to, we could rise to the challenge of a big fight. But guess what—it’s not actually true. Everyone who steps into the ring learns this very quickly. It’s a painful lesson, and there’s no easy way to learn it. But it’s one of the most useful lessons out there.

We’re finding that you can ease the pain (just a little) by opting to get your ass kicked (or your mind beaten, or your spirit crushed) by people you trust. You can create a safe environment to learn the hardest of lessons. The thing is, you have to choose it. You have to engineer it and then walk right into it, knowing you’re about to get hurt. And knowing that the hurt will be worth it.

There are other rewards too. When you ask someone to kick your ass, your enemy becomes your collaborator. Collaborative ass-kicking is one of the most sacred and intimate things you can do with another person, and the beautiful part of it is that you not only grow as a person, but your relationship with your counterpart becomes deeper and deeper.

It doesn’t matter what arena you choose: the conference room, the studio, or the boxing ring. What matters is the intention you bring to it, and the willingness to truly see what happened when it’s all over.

We’ve talked before here about the importance—nay, the usefulness—of curse words. I submit to you another great fucking example. Here.

On father’s day I went to a gospel service at Glide Memorial. I’m not a religious type in the slightest—but I went, because my dad likes the music and the sentiment, and Glide is notoriously non-denominational. The music was pretty damn good and the vibe was all about community, which was nice, but the thing that really stuck with me was something the pastor said somewhere in between songs: hate is more committed than love.

Damn right. Just a few days before Axel and I had been talking about the way we put our ideas into the world on this here inspiration feed, and how too much of it may seem driven by disdain rather than a desire to make things better. Axel put it like this: it’s way easier to be hater.

Because hate doesn’t require you to show yourself. It doesn’t require the hard work of creativity. And, if you went to school at all, you were most likely trained to take things apart rather than put things together. I know I was.

There’s nothing wrong with being a good problem spotter. In fact, it’s super useful, for the obvious reason that problems can’t be fixed if you can’t see them. But if you want to be a good collaborator, you’ve got to be just as good at building (better, actually) than you are at taking things apart.

My girlfriend and have a rule for deciding where to go out to eat: you can’t kill a a suggestion without offering a new one to take it’s place. It’s a simple practice that works in all kinds of ways. So remember to be mindful of negativity and make sure that positivity balances it out.

The brilliant and visionary Audrey Kallander posted a comment too good to leave buried in Tuesday’s post, in which we asked for some advice on how to better practice collaboration and openness when your own ego is clenching hard.

I am reading Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s book, ‘Creativity’ (he also wrote, probably more famously, ‘Flow’). He defines creativity as happening in the intersection of an individual who sees a new pattern, a ‘field of accomplishment’ (the ‘experts’ who can understand and accept the individual’s creative idea or act), and a ‘domain of knowledge and action’ (a body of knowledge mediated by symbols and bundled into systems, like geometry, art, or legal systems, which makes up what we call a culture).

That makes every creative act an act of collaboration, or the property of a system, as opposed to a controlled (or controllable), specific act of an individual. Our current, western culture has an epistemological bias towards abstracting bits of reality from their context, which leads to a focus on the contribution of the individual. There is an underlying paradigm of linear thinking, i.e. we’re all marching along a time line from the past to the present, and there are lots of assumptions about what “progress” is, which is normally measured in terms of material abundance, technological virtuosity, economic growth, etc.

I’d say that by asking the question about “preaching collaboration” you are automatically practicing it. If you word the questions so that other people can get traction both thinking about the ideas and forming their own opinions which they feel comfortable sharing, the more ideas you’ll likely come up with and naturally, someone (or the group) might know better. That is basically a “brainstorm and filter” mentality. A balance between putting your idea out there, taking in comment and advice, and looking at your work with fresh eyes.

To remain open in my creative practice, I try to surround myself with people that I believe are ‘smarter’ or ‘more creative’ than I am, while keeping hold of a sense of my own smarts and creativity. I acknowledge that I essentially, even when working alone, “stand on the shoulders of giants” in that I have access to so much knowledge and experience and so many examples that have come before me. That my “container” (domain) and network (field) is an essential part of my own creativity.

And the first step in letting go is to acknowledge that you are holding on. Control (as opposed to ‘influence’) is an illusion, and you might note from your own past experience that struggling with it will cause you (and possibly others) to suffer. I repeat to myself, “I participate but do not control this situation.”

Amen.

A fellow out in Chicago just emailed us to share his concept for using newspaper dispensers as a place to replate your leftovers. It’s a great idea, especially in cities that don’t have ledges or hoods on their trash cans. Check it out here.

For those of you who saw this a few years ago, watch it again. It’s still brilliant and creepy and good for you too.

Many of us have adopted a way of working—or at least a way of talking about our work—that we think makes us come across as collaborators, as real team players willing and able to embrace a good idea or smarter point of view even though it might come from someone else. Search around the website of any creative-type shop and you’re sure to find some rhetoric about collaboration and partnership. You hear it as well, in conversation: we’re really interested in working together as collaborators, because more minds are better than one. To be fair, that statement is mostly true: More minds are better than one. And we are interested in collaboration. It’s just that we still don’t know how to do it.

Because really: who doesn’t want to be the one with the big idea that wins? Who doesn’t hold tight to their projects and blame clients and partners for lack of vision when they ask for a change, or a new creative direction?

You’ll notice I didn’t raise my hand either.

Some of you know that we’ve been contracted to make a book on our graffiti project, Written on the City. I know. Fucking awesome, right? Well, yes. And, also, no.

Both Axel and I have wanted to make a big beautiful book for as long as we can remember. So you can imagine how fucking psyched we are that we’re finally doing it, and that we’re doing it with a great publishing house. But that’s where the problem starts: how do you let someone else raise your child?

Granted, we know all the reasons for collaboration. But we also feel like no one understands this project as well as we do. So we’re having a lot of trouble practicing what we preach.

So here’s the question cluster of the day:

If you’re preaching collaboration, are you really practicing it?

If so, how do you make room for the possibility that someone else might know better?

What do you do in your creative practice to remain open?

How do you let go?

Heyaz,

Replate is now about a week old, and it’s been met with a very strong response. Lots of conversation, and surprisingly, a little bit of confusion too. So we thought it’d be a good idea to add a section to the site to help with all that. Check it here.

You are beautiful is a project I wish I’d thought of first, but mostly I’m just psyched it exists—and apparently it’s thriving.

Once again, the awesome Coudal Partners have made a pretty, weird, and utterly charming video for our pleasure. Wish I’d thought of that.

Whoa. Damien Hirst has created a sculpture that might get you killed. Or that you might kill for.

We forgot to mention one other thing people have been talking about in regards to replate:

Many are saying that if replating your leftovers counts as activism, then the bar for activism is set way too low.

Maybe that’s true.

But though the first steps of activism (however you define it) are small ones, they form the foundation for the giant leaps to come. And replate is just the beginning of a conversation that we hope will inspire greater action.

And don’t forget that this is an open-source movement. It’s yours as much as anybody’s and you can build on it however you want.

So if you don’t think it’s activism yet. And if you want to make replate bigger and badder and more hardcore, we’ve got a hunch you’ll get all the support you’ll need.

Replate is less than a week old and already we’re getting a lot of props (thanks everybody!), some photographs of replated food from cities all over the country, and requests for stickers are coming in. We’re psyched.

There’s also been some good conversation around the food we let go to waste. And that’s really what the project’s about. Here’s the big issues people have been chewing on:

The idea of food left outdoors feels messy.
Some have worried that food will rot or that rats will get to it before hungry people do. This is a legitimate concern in small towns or sparsely populated areas, but certainly not in a town like San Francisco where, any given moment, there are many people without enough to eat.

Why not just eat your own leftovers?
Of course. Many of us do. But sometimes you just don’t, for any number of reasons. Rather than toss ‘em out, or go traipsing through the city looking for a hungry person, maybe the next best thing is to replate them.

Incompatible trash cans.
Apparently, New York City trash cans don’t have hoods or ledges, so there’s no horizontal surface on which to replate. This isn’t as big a problem as some have suggested. If you want to give someone the food you’re not going to eat, simply put it next to the trash can, or on a newspaper dispenser.

Evil people.
There’s a strange paranoia in the conversation about evil people poisoning the food. Sure, it could happen. But you could also get pushed in front of the subway train. Or someone could put razor blades in your Halloween candy. People could betray your trust in any number of ways but if you ride the subway, or eat Halloween candy, you know that the fear far outweighs the actual risk.

The City should officially get involved.
Some have suggested formalizing a leftovers drop-off point like a food bank, free dining room, or some city-sponsored receptacle. We think that’s a great idea. Make it happen.

We did not invent this behavior.
We observed it, thought it was worthy of real public conversation, and so we gave it a name.

Here’s a few threads of the conversation:
Bake Town
StumbleUpon
Wasted Food

What do you all think?

Big news! We’ve launched that project we were struggling with a while ago and we’re super psyched to share it with you.

The project is called Replate and it’s about creating a new household word to promote a behavior that’s not getting the attention it deserves.

Think of it as a public service campaign that doesn’t suck.

We’d love to hear what you think.

Link.

See what I mean: everyone’s selling empty authenticity.

Thanks to Shawn for sending this photo and supporting our point.

I spent all weekend thinking about a question, and I’m hoping you can help me find some answers.

There is a particular kind of predicament that can plague people: Sometimes, the one most important thing that needs to be done is the one thing that you least want to do.

A good example is working out. When you’re sluggish or cranky or foggy or some combination of the three, a workout is often the best remedy, but it’s the last thing you want to do. Another good example is sugar addiction. When I’m on a sugar binge, I lose my appetite for anything that isn’t sweet, but to kick the habit, you gotta eat something else, and you gotta keep it up for a while—even while your body is doing everything it can to convince you to eat more sugar.

My question: How do you get out of these sorts of predicaments? How do you get yourself to do the one thing you don’t want to do? I ask, because I don’t have very many techniques for this. Often, (and I’m not sure I’d call this a “technique”) I have to go deep into my funk and crash and hate myself before I can shake it. The other thing that works for me is having a buddy (or even just peer pressure) to motivate me. The problem with these techniques is that they aren’t much under my control. If I don’t have a buddy, I just have to surrender to the predicament until it runs its course.

So yah, that’s my question: What are your techniques?

Apparently, this dude has named his hand Lejo, and Lejo does all kinds of cool stuff. Here, Lejo rocks the party.