As I mentioned in the previous issue of the newsletter, I won’t be writing here very often — regularly? — at least for a little while. However, I’ve been reading “Embodiment” by Naoto Fukasawa. Appreciating their design and philosophy around creating objects. This is how they open the book.
I believe that design is attributing a countenance to an object. It’s not about creating a shape. Since the countenance of an object is its natural state, it is accompanied by a given environment and set of circumstances. The presence of this object has an outer boundary. This is termed the ambience, atmosphere or context; the countenance of this object engenders the surrounding atmosphere, and this atmosphere in turn attributes a countenance to the shape.
This immediately reminded me of something I wrote two years ago, what I called aesthetic extenionism. Deriving an objects aesthetics through the values which this object will be rooted in. Which may be at the root of my frustration with the design of most digital objects.
A shower thought I had today was around product (the process of building) as long exposure photography. Focus on a stationary element, and allowing the moving pieces to become accents of the photograph.
Lately at Eternal we’ve been — I would like to think — hyper critical of our work. Releasing the joy from the ability to generate product and trading it in for the rigor of understanding when we’ve reached something we’d actually like to give someone.
It becomes very simple at the root. Rip out the shit. If we realize the “it” we just made isn’t very fun the 2nd time we use it… it doesn’t really matter that we spent a week on it. You will always be appreciated for thoughtful work, but thoughtful work doesn’t always end in special moments. The ability to spot and act on that is a central value at our office.
Through the 5 coffees a day and full team lunches, I view this process as if it is a long exposure photograph. The stationary element is very clear. Releasing Eternal properly to the world. Our conversation, recorded and unrecorded ideas, what we consume independently and corporately… this becomes the moving pieces.
I’ve always been sensitive to the demonstration of process compared to being handed a residual. The difference between watching Jackson Pollock paint, as opposed to standing in front of his huge works at a museum, changed the way I appreciated art. I simply had to see his process once, through one painting. To branch over an appreciation for all of his work. I feel the same with seeing my favorite musicians live. Watching Rick Rubin interviews. Or reading New Yorker profiles on certain venture capitalists / founders. I need the peeling back on one’s process to expose certain values hidden within their residual.
The best creators, can clearly allow the residual to be a story of the process itself. In turn, the best residuals elevate our understanding of process within the set of circumstances it is meant to exist in.
In technology, one of the benefits we have is to follow product up with continual improvements. We don’t release an album, or a painting, or a building. We release versions. The psychological primer, of a promise of more to come. Of learnings. Of process. I believe this has an array of implications on the permanence of the objects we make, and the industry we cooperate in as a whole.
Lately I’ve been asking myself: what are you really trying to do, who are you really trying to be?
The break from publishing regularly has helped me create some space for that exploration. Long evening conversations with Luca have helped. Demonstrating excellence at work and then being embarrassed by foolish mistakes in the office have helped. Love and bickering between Evy and myself has helped. Meditation has helped. Church has helped.
I recognize this is the forever process, that transcends any one residual.
What I’ve been consuming:
Andy Hertzfeld blog about his time at Apple
Embodiment by Naoto Fukasawa
A lot of random scraps on personal computing in the 80’s
I don’t do edits really, so excuse typos and things that don’t make sense.
Thanks so much for giving me your attention. I hope it was worth it, if not… unsubscribing will not hurt my feelings, and will give you back time you literally cannot have back.
Much love.