View from my front door the morning after Hurricane Sandy, October 30, 2012

It is seventeen days after Hurricane Sandy. I’m sitting in my small home office bundled in three layers of clothing, with power but still without heat or hot water. Outside, the sun is bright and the flood waters have long since receded. Only water lines four to five feet high remain on the sides of homes and across garage doors. Many cars have still been left untouched since the storm surge, all with one rear wheel curiously hoisted onto the curb and windows fogged over. (My own car was a total loss.) Trash still piles high on the curb, partly from the ongoing cleanup of basements and partly from renovations already underway. City sanitation workers have been on the job almost every day since the hurricane, switching from garbage trucks to construction equipment and dumpsters to manage the volume of refuse in the streets.

There has been constant activity in my neighborhood. Several days after the storm, the National Guard came to evacuate people and relocate them to shelters, although few chose to leave. For the past two weeks, Red Cross trucks served hot meals and gave out food regularly, as well as cleaning kits and blankets. City council people and others contributed to the relief effort by rationing out meals to each household. One day I even received a military MRE (meal ready to eat), complete with a self-heating packet and elaborate instructions.

Plumbers, electricians, and other contractors park their vans and pickup trucks all along my street. Out of misfortune comes opportunity and a sudden surge of business; for some, work will last months, even years. Scrap metal collectors make more frequent rounds here, snapping up waterlogged appliances, rust-covered furniture, and anything else that might translate to cash. In the days immediately after the storm, looters also roamed through my neighborhood in search of evacuated homes, valuables left outside to dry, and unsecured generators, but nighttime police patrols and curfews helped curb their activities.

My neighbors — homeowners, business owners, and tenants alike — are faced with a new reality now: vulnerable homes, altered lifestyles, mounting expenses, and the sheer complexity of navigating the insurance claims process, federal assistance programs, personal finances, and home repairs, not to mention continued challenges with transportation and utilities. While some help is available from FEMA volunteers on the ground and the local Disaster Recovery Center, getting one’s bearings in the aftermath of a sudden disaster is a self-driven process aided by family and friends. To my surprise, neighbors who historically never spoke to one another were suddenly coming together as a community to help each other through the prolonged power outage (6 days for my street), sharing generator power, cell phones, food, and stories of shared loss. Whether that sense of community will last remains to be seen.

I may have lost much in the flood, but I still have a home and consider myself extremely lucky. I had family nearby who were largely unaffected and with whom I could stay until heat is restored (I have never appreciated a hot shower and a warm bed more than I do now). I had friends who provided supplies and transportation when I couldn’t get around. And I had my health and well-being intact so I could be on my feet to handle the massive cleanup of my basement and garage, despite the cold, dampness, and mold.

It will take me some time to fully process what I have experienced since October 29. Luxuries, conveniences, and necessities in life have been forever redefined. What does it mean to be secure? What does a comfortable life look like? And how much stuff is really enough? When I was packing my bag in case I had to be evacuated, I was forced to draw a very sharp line between what was truly important to me — for my safety, security, and livelihood — and what wasn’t. Never before had I confronted that decision so seriously. After the storm, as I filled trash bag after trash bag with everything from old electronics and housewares to soaked books from my treasured art and design library, it dawned on me how few of those things I actually made use of but simply owned because I could. Part of me wanted to keep everything and just dry it out somewhere (there was no room), but the more sensible side of me knew to let go and move on. Even my knowledge of what to do in an emergency situation is embarrassingly and inexcusably low, regardless of where I live.

In reflecting on this whole ordeal, I recall the words of change management expert Darryl Conner: “It is not the surprises in life that are so debilitating. The truly crushing force is being surprised that you are surprised.” He sure wasn’t kidding. Sudden, debilitating change can happen anywhere and at any time, whether it’s caused by nature or by humans. We can’t avoid it, but we can do better to prepare our person, our property, and above all, our state of mind, to get through it safely.

“Smarter Planet,” one of IBM’s cleverly designed Icons of Progress

Solving global challenges is on many people’s minds these days (see my last post). Businesses of all sizes have become much more proactive in rethinking their values, culture, services, products, and operations to serve the greater good while staying profitable. But a select few companies are leading the way with bold ventures in the social and global spheres. IBM is among these titans of corporate social responsibility who are leveraging their powerhouse resources and expertise to improve people’s lives.

Now in its centennial year, the tech giant has commited serious resources to showcase its storied past, its formidable present, and its promising future. Among these efforts, the most intriguing has to be the THINK exhibit, a month-long “unique interactive experience” housed in a newly renovated part of Lincoln Center in New York City. The website’s opening statement succinctly describes IBM’s intent:

Much has already been written about the experience itself, ranging from praise to skepticism. Nearly a week after its closing and after having seen it twice, I thought I’d share my impressions of THINK.

What impressed me most:
This exhibit engaged a broad audience at many different levels, and communicated at different depths. For the young at heart, the entryway data wall was a giant mesmerizing toy that invites you to chase after the fluttering LED data points drawn from sensors around the city. The opening movie flowed briskly but steadily, sustaining the most fleeting of attention spans across multiple screens. In a blink, those same movie screens transformed into touchscreen information displays about different areas of IBM research and innovation around global issues, such as data mapping and technological discovery. Play became the immediate impulse rather than investigation. With each touch of these colossal iPhones, one could control how close or far images appeared and set the pace of reading captions. If boredom set in, there were still four other panels to explore in the 25-minute time window.

What I thought of the design:
Honestly, it’s hard for me to fault the design of the whole experience. It’s not so surprising, considering the design firepower that was brought to bear: the strategic design consultancy SYPartners, the renowned exhibition design firm Ralph Appelbaum Associates, and the relatively new digital storytelling company Mirada. Since data are central to IBM’s story, their visualization required great thoughtfulness and restraint. With the involvement of Casey Reas, the resulting data wall succeeded in conveying information in a fluid, textural way without feeling too scientific or too vernacular. The opening movie deftly interwove graphic boldness with artistic nuance in the choice of imagery, juxtapositions, and narrative devices, all within the space of about 12 minutes. I particularly liked the use of six simultaneous video displays in a circle to play with the sense of space and location; when the movie shifted to deeper content, just three displays became the focus to prevent viewers from developing whiplash.

What could have been improved:
A few minor tweaks would have satisfied my fussy designer side. For instance, I liked that image credits were included and easily accessible by touching a button on the bottom right corner of every display, but I would have preferred to save my limited time with the displays and get the information online afterwards. I also felt like there was a missed opportunity at the end of the exhibit to engage visitors to participate in IBM’s grand vision for a better future, either by participating in further research or just building community around the key issues at hand (I should add that there was a general visitor feedback station at the end of the exhibit, which I did not take part in). The most direct way to participate I could find was the invitation on the exhibit website to tweet with the hashtags #IBM100 and #THINK. Finally, I wasn’t sure what the future of the exhibit itself was, or how I could revisit some of the research in the information displays. One volunteer I spoke with was unsure of this herself. I wonder if IBM considered developing something like an iPad app to extend and enhance the shelf-life of this great content.

My Top 5 Takeaways:

1. Great solutions reflect great thinking. This exhibit revolves around strong thematic concepts that mesh well to IBM’s brand, philosophy, legacy, and core DNA. In execution, the core themes really shine: the experience informs, delights, amazes, and inspires with a remarkable economy of means.
2. Sometimes storytelling is more important than information design. Any number of possible outcomes could have materialized, but the one that made it was presumably the most effective because it tells a human story in human terms. Even the data displays were humanized and kept very minimal to avoid taking attention away from the story.
3. People should always be at the center of experience design. Almost from the moment you entered the exhibit space, you were immediately within reach of a volunteer who could help with any question. The area was fully ADA accessible, and I think an app was available at the exhibit to provide subtitles for the movie in different languages.
4. Great design never draws attention to itself. There was nothing about the exhibit that seemed excessive or self-referential of the design. Every word, every object, every moment was deliberately assembled to amplify content, which carried through from beginning to end. 
5. Technology, used wisely, allows design to have tremendous impact. The use of touchscreen panels could have been pretty hokey and pseudo-futuristic, but here they were used in a rather elegant way. Perhaps IBM learned a few lessons from their earlier foray into interactive displays at the 1964 World’s Fair

I will definitely be paying more attention to IBM now, but not so much their stock price as their ability to preserve the sense of wonder and curiosity that fueled the many innovations on which their success is built. How will IBM realize their vision to “build a smarter planet”?

I’m usually not one for clichés but I must admit that spring is definitely in the air; if not evidenced by spastic sneezing fits and confused wardrobe selections (is it a hot day or a cold day?), spring’s arrival is clearly signaled by an abundance of activities and outdoor festivals in NYC. As the city sheds its scarves and wool coats, there is much to look forward to this season.

One event that nearly slipped under my radar was the Festival of Ideas for the New City. Its ambitions were grand, as stated on the festival’s main page:

Festival of Ideas for the New City is a major new collaborative initiative in New York involving scores of Downtown organizations working together to harness the power of the creative community to imagine the future city and explore ideas that will shape it.

Their lineup of talks, workshops, exhibits and booths was staggering, spanning a good part of the Lower East Side. Struck with option overload, I decided to give up on planning specific sites to visit and just wandered around Sarah D. Roosevelt Park, where most of the action was.

My first impression was of a bizarre hybrid street fair, conceptual art exhibit, and urban planning expo — full of surprises at every turn:

There were people making sandals right on the sidewalk!

There was a traveling studio on display, which seemed to have a small gathering inside:

I really liked this tent concept for visitors to NYC. The informational exhibit had a nice graphic feel to it:

The tent also had some charming diorama-like displays to add a little sparkle to the concept:

The show stopper of the day had to be the crocheted people, casually lounging on their crocheted bed:

This is just a small glimpse of what the event had to offer; workshops, talks, and exhibits were also part of the week-long festival program. I was fortunate to hear from others what their experience was of the parts I missed (generally positive, although there was some consensus on poor event navigation and usability of event programs and maps).

Overall, I think this event succeeded in not just redefining notions of what a public event could be, but also in reaffirming the power of creativity to help build community. Nonprofits working to improve life in the city had an excellent platform to gain support for their causes. I spent some time learning about the great work of Transportation Alternatives, New York City’s advocacy organization for bicycling, walking and public transit, and Safari 7, an educational project with the MTA to teach people about the different forms of life at each stop along the 7 line.

In many ways, this festival also represented a renewal of the spirit of New York arts. After what seemed a Dark Age of artistic output brought about by the economic downturn, it was inspiring to see an energy and vitality once known in Greenwich Village during the early to mid-1980′s. Just seeing young families at craft booths and play areas seemed to indicate that the specter of financial doom was lifting and that it was okay to celebrate art and design again. Or at least, that was my impression.

I’m curious to see what’s in store for next year’s festival, if there is one.

Here we are, at an end and a beginning — as much a time of retrospection as of prospection and prediction. It is also a time to stop and take a look at the present.

I know it’s quite customary at this time of year to do recaps, years in review, forecasts, predictions, etc. Rather than list all the top news headlines of the past decade or make speculations into an uncertain future, I would like to offer some personal observations. It may be rambling and choppy, but I wanted to get these thoughts out in time for New Years.

What has happened in the past 10 years?

The opening chapter of the 21^st century has been eventful to say the least: terrorism, global conflict, natural disasters, economic decline, health epidemics, and environmental degradation numbered among our biggest (ongoing) challenges. Among all the bad news items since 2000, there were the inevitable (hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis), the despicable (political and financial scandals galore), the reprehensible (terror attacks, shootings, murders), the lamentable (accidents, deaths of notable figures in history), and the seemingly insurmountable (poverty, inequity, global development issues). Of course, at the individual level there was much to struggle with, from unemployment to the high cost of living to poor quality health care. Thinking back on all of this, I’d say that this was the decade that many people didn’t just see or hear about passively, their lives largely unaffected. This was the decade and specifically the year people actually felt.

But it wasn’t all gloom and doom. Science and technology blossomed: our view of the universe and the natural world expanded (Mars exploration, Large Hadron Collider), our knowledge of ourselves and our origins deepened (Human Genome Project, Ardipithecus discovery) and our capabilities to communicate stretched further (broadband, mobile computing). We grew more comfortable with the quickening pace of innovation around the internet, and in turn have allowed it to shape our lives.

What is the world we live in now?

One approach to understanding the present is to use the same “good/bad” construct, as with the past. Much of what we saw continues to this day. However, we have landed in a unique place as a result of the complexities we’re facing, and our present response as a society is a reflection of our place in history:

Social consciousness, which was largely absent or hidden from sight in the decades preceding, is emerging as a defining characteristic of the times. We are focusing more attention on solving human challenges today, locally and globally. Volunteerism and not-for-profit work are now more appealing than traditional corporate jobs, and traditional corporations are catching up to this phenomenon through corporate citizenship initiatives.

Environmental awareness has remarkably become a mainstream phenomenon, no longer the province of “60’s throwbacks.” Nations are now convening to address climate change issues, major corporations are championing green initiatives, and nearly every consumer product and manufacturing process is scrutinized through the lens of sustainability. Collectively, there is a determination to undo the mistakes of the past and instill environmentally sound practices in all areas of society.

Pro-active government is taking bold steps to work for the people, not against them. The Obama administration, in its first year, is showing tremendous resolve in tackling one of our biggest domestic challenges: health care reform. Transparency in government through open data access is another significant shift.

The personal data and smart device explosion is ever-present. Our lives are migrating to digital platforms, where more of our interactions are taking place. The lives of distant others are becoming more detailed and more colorful, as is our own, by news and social networks. Thanks to the multitude of smart gadgets at our disposal, we are always connected, always walking the fine line between our virtual and real lives (sometimes while driving!).

What visions exist for the years ahead?

In the near term, there is a strong sense of guarded optimism about what 2010 holds, particularly with regard to the economy and government. There is little to indicate when or how economic stability will be restored, as there are multiple variables at play. Obama and his administration still have much work to do; unfortunately, immediate results are difficult to realize with monumental foreign and domestic priorities on the agenda competing for attention. Hopefully the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq will end soon, terrorists will be defeated, and America’s image will be restored in the eyes of a global community, but again, a clear and direct roadmap remains elusive. A “wait and see” approach seems to be the best we can afford as the year unfolds and the fog of uncertainty slowly dissolves away.

Looking long term, we are still at the start of a millennium, only 1% of the way through. There is great interest these days in the future, perhaps more noticeably this year than in the past 10 years. I wonder if this is due to a longing for a more exciting life enriched by fantastic technologies and scientific breakthroughs, aligned with the science fiction fantasies so vividly rendered in movies and television. Perhaps this is how the future is created — by envisioning potential realities just on the horizon and charting a slow, steady course in their direction. To that end, several communities, groups and organizations such as The Institute for the Future (IFTF), SpaceCollective, and Humanity+ are stirring imaginations and debate about where we may be headed.

As days blur into months and years to come, I hope that progress will continue towards solving our toughest problems, and that we all keep searching for new opportunities to advance our world and ourselves.

Happy New Year!

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BONUS: My website: one year later

It has also been a year since I launched this incarnation of my personal website, and it’s been quite a learning experience in itself:

I found myself writing only a fraction as much as I thought I would. While I lean toward creating long-form original content versus repackaging or republishing existing short-form content with commentary, I think there’s room for a mixture of both, if only for the sake of variety and personal interest.

I spent more time crafting and revising my posts than I expected. Cranking out mini journal-type entries online seemed a simple concept at first, but really putting thought and effort into developing posts proved to be an exercise. Then again, I tend to be a bit fussy with language, so perhaps a punchier journalistic style would suit this medium better.

I finally “got” Twitter. It took a long time for me to even consider getting a Twitter account, and almost as long to start tweeting. Much like this site, I saw it as another experiment in online communication, but with more of a novelty appeal. I didn’t realize it’s potential until I saw it in action: it allows ideas to be spread lightning fast and to be buoyed up and amplified by a multitude of networks.

My intent with this site has always been to share a bit about myself personally and professionally, and to write about what I find interesting, peculiar, or relevant to others. I haven’t gotten much input or feedback on this site this year, and I’m sure there are many people out there like myself who don’t see the need to comment on everything they like or dislike online. Nevertheless, I would like to provide more opportunities for conversation, especially when a healthy debate or discussion might be in order.

Photo: Jacob Dingel / PGC Photo

Yep, it’s Groundhog Day. I’ve never been sure if it’s an actual holiday or some sort of day of observance, but just the thought of there being a “Groundhog Day” on our national calendar has always seemed odd to me. No doubt it must confound poor little Punxsutawney Phil as well, what with the throngs of fans gathering around him every year, anxiously awaiting his verdict on the arrival of an early spring. Then there’s the Inner Circle, Phil’s very own Knights Templar in top hats, sworn to uphold tradition and protect the oversized squirrel for future “prognostications.” How can anyone keep a straight face?

Time to get to the bottom of all this. As it turns out, February 2 is the midpoint between the start of winter and the start of spring, thus signaling the change of seasons and return of warmer weather. Originally called Imbolc by the Gaels and then St. Brigid’s Day and Candlemas by the early Christians, it is also a day of celebration, rich with the symbolism of fire and new life. As a further sign of the coming spring, animals such as snakes, bears and badgers (and later groundhogs in North America) would come out of hibernation. But what seems odd is the connection of a groundhog seeing its shadow and 6 more weeks of winter: wouldn’t not seeing its shadow mean more dreary, overcast weather? Of course, wouldn’t anyone be able to see or not see their own shadow and draw their own conclusion?

I think the concept of what we now call Groundhog Day is nothing more than good old fashioned fun — a folksy way of breaking the monotony of winter while preserving a piece of the past. Phil’s predictions aren’t even all that credible: according to one source, Phil has a success rate of only 39%. Phil’s internal clock, which is set for hibernation and mating according to his local winter/spring cycle, must already be thrown out of whack if he’s living in captivity. As for Phil’s cousins living in the wild in other areas, there’s climate change to contend with.

Much like the white bunny and baby chick that have come to represent Easter and springtime, the groundhog will remain the furry mascot of seasonal change.