This explicit (and large scale) co-opting of an entire city block — and subsequently affecting the greater area around the site — for the filming of a movie provides a moment of disturbance to think about one's relation to the city.

The false lighting required for a movie set creates an incredible dynamic and point of re-engagement with an otherwise usual and familiar cityscape. Not only through the naturally impossible play of light and shadow on the street brought on by this intense light (positioned at a point of disconnect from any of the habitual paths of the sun) but also – and quite possibly – through a psychological effect based on the fact that this daytime condition is constructed at 1AM.

One other idea to note is regarding our actions and behaviour as we are consciously aware of the "set" which is constructing the current reality — a reality which we usually take for granted in part due to the "seamless" nature of our surrounds. However, in this case, the massive network of wires and cables which run the length of the street and the presence of such massive tower lights provide concrete literal cues about this particular space.

At 355 Burrard Street, the Marine Building at 1AM with the addition of intense light filtered by the trees in front.

Copenhagen Airport

Designskolen Kolding, Denmark

 ""

Royal Danish Library

 ""

Nicolai for Børn

 ""

2010 Danish Pavilion by BIG Architects

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Links and References:

Bjarke Ingels Group (BIG), http://big.dk/
Designskolen Kolding, http://dskd.dk/
Kontrapunkt, http://kontrapunkt.dk/
Nicolai for Børn, http://sctnicolai.dk/
Schmidt Hammer Lassen, http://shl.dk/
The Royal Library (Denmark), http://kb.dk/en/

Ever since signing up for my first email account sometime in the mid-90's, my password has been under constant scrutiny every time I've signed up for a new web-based service (now up around fifty or so). It's been twisted, warped, stretched, condensed, pinched, punched, cut, and finally massaged into a highly-refined form that is longer-than-six-but-less-than-sixteen upper and lowercase alpha-numerics and including its fair share of "special" characters. It's perfect. With years of practice through entering it in countless times a day, the act itself is a thing of beauty. Fingers, working in unison, fly over the keys to their temporary destination to tap out an audible but ambiguous pattern as the password field is completed in under a second.

I don't have to think about it anymore. In fact, the only time I've thought about my password outside it's evolution from "weak" to "strong" was recently when travels brought me to countries with different keyboard layouts. It was there, crippled by letters in different positions and symbols that are completely missing from their "rightful" place above the number seven or eight, that I was completely disarmed. Forced to assume a slow, one-fingered peck and a google search to copy-paste the required symbols had me think, if momentarily, about my idea of a seemingly universal password (read—mindfulness through failure). But the temporary handicap was removed with a return to my "home" computer and country. And again, I no longer thought about it.

However, with my increased use of small devices with access the internet (phone, iPod Touch, etc...), entering my refined and lengthy password is a cumbersome process that includes digging through sub-menus to find all the necessary keys. I've accepted it so far as my computer-to-mobile use ratio hasn't been even close. Now, as they grow closer to par (and find myself entering my password far more often on the scaled keyboard) I've begun to question whether there is a new way we can think about passwords when it comes to mobile devices. A way in which a password still offers the necessary security but not at added hassle for the user.

Strengthened by the recent arrival of Wicked Cafe as an anchor at Smithe, the Hornby Street area is quickly becoming quite the cross-section of major Vancouver coffee offerings.

Already covering said territory is Mink (at Hastings), which is probably known more for their chocolate and subsequent cocoa-espresso blends then any other cafe downtown. Fairly limited hours, but nice on a rainy afternoon when in the company of those who don't hold the same (if any) appreciation for coffee. A block south and then east on Pender is Scuie, which, in addition to a great Italian menu (see previous post), can also serve up a wonderful post-lunch espresso. Noting the numerous Starbucks dotted along cross-streets and under office buildings, you'll come across one of the more prominent ventures in the city in Cafe Artigiano. With their old and new world espresso creations being described as "almost too strong" by those with a pallet seasoned more often by the green mermaid, there is really no comparison when it comes to overall quality of experience right through from bean to beverage. With a number of other Artigiano locations situated both around downtown and in the Metro, a stop in is perfect anytime, especially when you have time to take it to stay.

Wicked's first location is still tucked neatly on 7th Ave, straddling Granville Island and the busyness of Broadway. They pull their shots from the highly acclaimed Intelligentsia beans out of Chicago and finish off the entire experience in their warm interior with an informed and friendly team and a number of great cafe food staples. While this corner shop has built and maintained allegiance throughout it's current neighbourhood, it remains to be seen if such atmosphere can be created within it's new downtown context, one which is often more fleeting and fickle.

Note:
Not to exclude or discredit any of the smaller one-off locations that also occupy this strip and have created their own following, such as Glass City or others, truth is I lack proper assessment of these places due no prior opportunity to experience them. Hopefully sometime soon I will be able to offer up a fair and complete evaluation of the happenings along Hornby.

Augmented reality.

Assuming that the counter read “00000” when first produced: the physical “steps” this pedometer registered from production to packaging; cereal box; conveyor; palate; forklift; truck; forklift; cart; shelf; floor; shelf; basket; checkout; bag; pour, pour, pour—drop = 7892.

My 5km run with the same calibration registered close to 3300 steps... about half of that accumulated on it's journey from factory to home.

Calgary city limits draw closer to Saskatchewan.

Dimitropoulos, a professor of architecture at Georgia Institute of Technology, talks about this shift from physically designing (in his case—actually drawing on paper) to digitally creating as a major movement in architecture education, and continues to discuss what effects this has on the curriculum and the graduating students at large.

While I can not comment on this theme regarding architecture, I can, however, view this within context of my design school experience. Throughout my three-years I have had a number of teachers that have insisted, and preached, to pay certain attention to an "analog" design process within their classes—classes which, admittedly, were much richer for their experience and exploration. Most, if not all, classes I've had teach concept and process over final result, and are solely focused on idea development rather than technical software workings. Still, I can personally observe an overall digital theme throughout the school, which is often more than evident in the workings and outcomes of our projects.

There could be some incertitude regarding what the school's mantra really is. They teach process while not always defining what that entails—essential in both first and second year, if not all the way through. Therefore, when it isn't expanded upon by the professor, the atmosphere and tone of the school can qualify what process should look like. It is here where it becomes an issue of space requirements and student numbers. The lack of space to foster a sustained working community at school pushes everyone to satellite studios, and aside from a few small groups, effectively disconnects students outside of class.

This is not to place blame but rather to enlighten, especially those that may just be starting in design education. Digital methods and software are only tools of the design process, not a substitute for it's entirety. Dimitropoulos further discusses digital process within architecture; he states disembodiment or a lack of human inscription is not only visible in the process and subsequent outcome, but also in the actual space and buildings if built.

It's easily assumed that this digital process applies only to the time spent creating ideas in software—yet, similarly, it is the email and blogs that sometimes find their daily routine all too closely positioned or integrated with our design process. Whatever the case, this final quote from Harris' is relevant for both student and professional alike:

Instead of fostering creativity and expanding our minds in ways made possible by our cognitive protheses, we are running the risk of being passive... [by] the secondary role our bodies play in digital design.

Works cited:
Dimitropoulos, Harris. "On the Lack of Human Inscription in Digital Design Processes". The Role of the Humanities in Design Creativity Conference. University of Lincoln, UK. November 2007.

The ultra-popular lunch location on the corner of Pender and Howe, featuring their specialty Roman flat breads and espresso, has opened a new location in Yaletown.

Sciue, pronounced properly in Italian (and as phonetically written on their to-go cups) "shoe-eh", is a venture between Davide Bonamici and fellow Italian Alessandro Fonseca who have looked to create their take on the traditional cafe scene in Rome.

I had walked by this new location at the Roundhouse (Davie and Pacific Blvd) earlier this month when only the orange planters and chairs had been unloaded outside. Now all suspicions are confirmed and they are open for business. I didn't get a chance to drop by this time, but hopefully soon. Nothing can stretch summer like a piece of melanzane, a San P, and an espresso under the umbrellas.

What you won't see in these photos is everything that leads up to the actual event.

The interminable music, inspiring and piquing curiosity for a sample or mix, comes by means of headphones accompanying commutes to work or as a soundtrack for rides down shady streets to crosstown addresses and coffee. Or as a staple at home where new mixes fill the entire flat from the system in the living room—a living room with a layout well suited to either conversation or concentrated listening, both while accompanied by a variety of culture and design magazines aided by a selection of arc lamps—in duet with the buzz of a window fan, as the hardwood rooms are kept cool amidst the humidity and heat of the outside.

What you see at the show is that weeks' final result, but what you experience is everything that leads up to it—the process—which is not always available for view in creative ends. A further interesting aspect, that this often weekly "final result" offers, is it's dynamic nature. Rather than being a static culmination of previous work it is also a manifestation of what might be to come; part of an ongoing organic evolution of future intent of direction, excitement and experimentation growing forward in any number of directions.

Is there a way this unique dynamic aspect can further be applied to design or architecture initiatives (especially regarding cradle to cradle ideals)?

Jamall Knight during a set at The Academy in Winnipeg, MB

edit: He also maintains a collection of new mixes, thoughts, and photographs on his blog. Check it out: http://leighalfred.blogspot.com/

The following questions were asked via email as research into our Interaction Design course for an article in Emily Carr's Visions publication. The subsequent article can be found on page four of this newsletter (from the ECI website).

1. Could you tell me briefly about your experience collaborating in the groups (motivations, challenges, learning)?

The group aspect has been a unique part of this class in that the teams we created back in September have been the same we've been working with for this entire semester-long project (four months). This in itself presents it's own set of challenges, but also provides a platform upon which to build a beneficial team atmosphere and relationship.

I've felt that our team, as we've moved through the semester and spent large blocks of time together, has grown together to create a forum where good work can grow out of just because of the fact that we have this on going dedication to each other over the course of a few months. Although we definitely have our differences of opinion, the fact that we are all very committed to this project means we are all able to address opinions and ideas for what they are, and pursue further the ones we know will take us the furthest.

In addition, I have found the component of teams in this class to be of inspiration not only internally with my own team, but also by observing the other teams, both in their day-to-day interactions as well as in their presentations.

2. How are the design techniques (e.g. participatory design, co-creation) you're learning in this class different from other techniques you've learned at ECI? What do you like about this process?

As I am learning the design techniques associated with this course, in some aspects, I feel like I am being introduced all over again to what "design thinking" really is. Only this time, however, I have a foundation of previous design process knowledge, both in theory and in practice, in which to contextualize these ideas of co-creation.

The co-creation methodology, when Liz Sanders initially introduced us to it at the beginning of this semester, was something that excited me for it's potential to cultivate and refine really good ideas that, as a designer, you know will work very well for at least one person in particular. It's only after the fact, when it comes down to actually carrying forward with what's involved, did I realize just how daunting a task this may be. In essence, it's about forming a relationship with a person and then listening to them, both through exercises and in conversation, to see where and how solutions could be applied to needs they may have not have been able to give shape to prior.

I found this process incredibly intriguing—rather than trying to create a solution for a problem that will work for "everyone" (in a general target group), a designer now instead tries to interpret what this one particular person feels or imagines would improve and enhance some aspect of their life, and then tries to give it some form. By the very fact that a relationship is formed through co-creation, as a design student, I think there is a heightened sense of responsibility which informs, on a much more of a personal level, how the design process is carried out—which is another facet to the benefits of this process.