Ron Finley. Guerrilla gardener. Leader

This elegant talk by artist and designer Ron Finley was by far the highlight of my experience at TED last week.  I find it inspiring on so many levels — here are a few:

I am inspired by the way Ron Finley went back to first principles to find a solution to the challenges he witnessed in his neighborhood, South Central.  In his hometown, the obesity rate is ten times that of more affluent areas located only miles away.  Goods and services are popping up to deal with the problems brought on by obesity, but they only really deal with the symptoms, and not the root cause.  As Finley says in this talk, “Food is the problem and the solution”.  Yes, indeed.  Having now listened to this talk three times, I can’t help but admire the way he looked deeply at the challenge, and with a designer’s mind started to build solutions to enable people to change fundamental aspects of their behaviors which lead to illness and further poverty.  Dreaming of and planting a Food Forest is nothing if not an act of inspiration.

I am inspired by the design of his talk itself.  These days it’s relatively easy to mimic the “standard” format of a TED talk: lots of compelling images and words projected up behind the speaker, all there to push the narrative forward.  But nailing a talk the way Finley does here is actually very difficult.  Notice the way his photos and screen texts correspond exactly to whatever he’s trying to communicate at that moment.  He avoids the use of inauthentic stock imagery, and the few words projected up on the screen correspond to only those select ideas he wants to have stick with you: PLANT SOME SHIT!

I am inspired by the way he is helping his neighbors to design their own lives.  Especially the children.  He talks about the importance of manufacturing your own reality, versus robotically accepting the path designed for you by others.  As I listened to Finley speak in Long Beach, my mind immediately connected to this amazing statement written by my colleague Tim Brown a few years ago.  Beyond immediate impact of helping people marooned in a food desert eat in ways that are building healthier bodies and minds, Finley is enabling those people to create intent in their lives, and act upon it.  The act of designing and bringing something wonderful to life, be it a garden, a house, or one’s own self, is nothing but the continuous expression of mindful intent.

Above all, I am inspired by Ron Finley himself and his passion for action.  As I’ve written before, my definition of leadership is very simple: it’s the act of making something happen which otherwise would not have happened.  In my book, Ron Finley’s guerrilla, renegade, let’s-not-just-talk-let’s-do-something-now approach to gardening is the triple distilled essence of leadership, and that’s pretty damn inspiring.

More thoughts on designing from Chris Bangle

Wheels-pingpong-blog480

A few days ago I came across this wonderful interview of Chris Bangle done by Hugo Becker in June 2012.  I did a lot of research prepping for my Revs Program event with Chris, but I unfortunately never saw this one — I would have done a much better job had I been able to read it.  It's really good.

Here's a wonderful passage where Chris talks about his current approach to designing things, and the thinking here has a direct connection to his amazing "the fox is pretty because the fox has a pretty tail" thoughts expressed at Stanford:

The other thing I have am trying to do –– and this I would ask your
readers to consider –– is to look at the world of design-creativity as
an endless stream with many contributors instead of a one-time
phenomenon coming from the pen of some famous-star-designer. The problem
with “the star designer” is that everybody else who is in the execution
process either does their job 100% right or 100% wrong ––like a
machine.

I’m trying to empower the people in my projects; to help them understand
they are all active participants in a seamless creative change process.
To make everyone be engaged and to somehow actually experience a
contributive participation…instead of me the designer saying: “Okay,
here’s the design, I’ve drawn it, now you take it and if you screw it up
God help you”.

I think this is a really powerful set of ideas.  It's vitally important that people engaged in the process of designing stuff make some decisions about whether they want to empower or dis-empower the people around them as they make their way through that process. 

Would love to hear what you think.

 

image: Chris Bangle Associates

Chris Bangle and the tail of the fox

Chris Bangle Diego Rodriguez Stanford REVS Program

If my time at IDEO has taught me anything, it's that a creative environment need not be toxic, caustic, or unnecessarily stressful.  In fact, the reality is quite the opposite: if you want people to do great work together, just treat them like competent, intelligent, well-intentioned human beings, and then diligently cultivate the elements of dignity, joy, and achievement which generate a satisfying inner worklife.  People who are feeling beautiful on the inside do beautiful things out in the world.

My fear for all those people reading Isaacson's biography of Steve Jobs is that they assume that being an asshole and exociating people within an inch of their life is the key to achieving greatness as a leader of creative endeavors.  To be sure, there's nothing wrong with being demanding and maintaining the highest standards, but when one considers the totality of what one is trying to create in the world, and not just that thing you're working so hard to ship, there's so much more to reckon with:  What's the culture you're creating?  How will people relate to their families when they go home in the evening?  Will people regret any of the things they had to do to meet the standards you established as being non-negotiable?  Ultimately, what's the price to be paid for being inhumane along the way?  Does the end ever justify the means?

This past November I very fortunate to spend time with Chris Bangle during his visit to Stanford.  I deeply admire the work Chris led at BMW and FIAT; I'm fortunate to drive one of his cars and I spend a lot of spare cycles oggling other ones I see on the street.  They're gorgeous, passionate sculptures, and you can't help but feel the strong point of view driving their designs.

He gave a helluva great talk about designing for difference, which you can see in the video below.  We talked through myriad topics in our Q&A session after this presentation, but related to the themes I mention above, I'd like to point you to the response Chris gave to my final question, "Speaking about design, where do you want to go?".  Chris stood up and said something very profound, starting with an Italian saying he's heard from the farmers in his village:

The fox is pretty because the fox has a pretty tail.

You can hear all of our exchange starting at around the one hour two minute mark.  Please listen to all of his statement from that point on — it's an elegant riposte to the idea that one must be brutal to create things which are beautiful:

 

We create things which are beautiful by making the
process of creation beautiful for everyone involved.  The fox is pretty
because the fox has a pretty tail.

Eating bacon chocolate, living at the intersection

Metacool Live life at the intersection

Last week I attended the Fancy Food Show in San Francisco.  It's like the CES of food, with over 1,300 exhibitors from 35 countries showing 80,000 products to over 17,000 attendees.  If that sounds like a recipe for something big and overwhelming, well, you'd be right — after seven hours walking the floor (even with two espressos and a bunch of bacon chocolate in me), I was ready to cry uncle.  But don't get me wrong — it was really a cool experience!

Thing is, I am not a fancy food aficionado, nor am I an expert on anything concerning the food industry.  To be sure, my employer IDEO does significant work across the domains of food, nutrition, beverages, water, and wellness, but I'm not directly involved with much of that work.  So why did I take a valuable weekend day to attend this show?  Well, the answer is twofold.  First, I wanted to gain more empathy for my colleagues who care very deeply about this stuff; I want to really understand their passion for food. 

Second, immersing yourself in new places, situations and experiences is how you become and stay an innovative soul.  I'm a strong believer in taking a stroll through pastures far flung from those one naturally gravitates to.  It's not hard to convince me to attend gatherings focused on networks of things, robotics, software, or Porsches.  But, if I only ever pay attention to those types of events, my ability to see patterns or make breakthrough associations across unconnected worlds will diminish over time.  If creativity is about making connections between seemingly unrelated things, then living in a bubble (or even a handful of bubbles) becomes a limiting factor on the heights your imagination can reach.  If you're engaged in the art and science of bringing cool stuff to life, you owe it to yourself to expose your brain to an ever more diverse set of inputs and experiences.

How?  I always think of a point made by — I think by Buckminster Fuller, I'm not really sure? — which in essence said that, to enlarge one's scope of awareness, one should always buy the magazine located in the upper right corner of a newstand.  Doing so ensures that you are always exploring an area you don't know anything about.  In 2013 terms, I think this means following random (but interesting) folks on Twitter, letting your eyes run wild on Instagram, and going to things like the Fancy Food Show.  If you only follow people you know and like on Twitter, how will you ever hear about anything that doesn't make sense to your current worldview?

What did I learn at the Fancy Food Show?  I'm not sure yet, to be honest.  I did experience some, ahem, interesting branding choices, such as a breakfast cereal called Holy Crap.  Aside from those unexpected jolts to my sense of right and wrong and good taste in the universe ("…I wonder how they came up with that?" was a common refrain in my brain), I didn't have an earth-shattering moment.  Yet.  And that's the point.  It may be a year, five years down the road where some synapses fire and what I saw last week makes a difference.  That's what living at the intersection is all about.

So, what next for this year?  I'm planning to have several wilder kinesthetic experiences this year, such as a rally driving school, because I think they're even stickier than a purely intellectual experience, and so have a greater chance of really knocking your hat in the creek, innovation-wise.  In that same vein, I'd really like to run a Zero One Odysseys adventure sometime soon.  And I'll also be trying to attend some technology conferences I've never been to, and I'm going to visit a couple of places I've never been before.  Who knows what I'll learn! 

How will you try living at the intersection this year?

 

 

Michael Brecker, Mike Stern, Steve Christopher, and the Art of Infusing Creativity

At one point in David Kelley's interview with Charlie Rose, Rose states that the process of going through life has a way of squeezing the creativity out of people.  A depressing thought.  But if we take it as true, how then do we make sure that the opposite happens?  How might we ensure that everyone — especially kids and teens — has creativity infused into their existence?  I've been pondering that question the past few days since that interview aired.

On a whim this morning I searched YouTube for the following video, which dates back to 1987:

As a saxophone-obsessed teenager, I must have watched my VHS tape of this Michael Brecker performance over 1,000 times.  In 1987 I had the good fortune to be part of the 8 O'Clock Jazz Band at Farview High School in Boulder, led by Steve Christopher, or "Mr. C" as we all called him.  We met at 8am each and every morning, which was just awesome — what I would give now to be able to start each day with a creative hour of music making with group of folks who could swing some Basie or rock out on a Maynard Ferguson tune, too!  Between jazz band practice and time at home, I was probably playing 2-3 hours a day.  Much of my time at home was spent playing with and learning from Michael Brecker's solo album, which was a wicked mix of digital and analog technology, all brought together with his special blend of superior jazz chops and funky see, funky do.  The tune Original Rays was my favorite, and my bandmate Rudresh Mahanthappa and I gave Mr. C more than a few grey hairs as we endeavored to emulate the feel, the emotion, and the total commitment to craft captured by the performance above.

If you've not been able to watch the entire video, please at least forward to the 5:45 mark and listen to Mike Stern's brilliant guitar solo.  ROCK & ROLL.  He totally wigs out, man!  Incredible. 

Infusing creativity: I learned so much from being in 8 O'Clock with Mr. C.  Practical things, like how to work with a creative team of people toward a shared goal and how to stand up in front of hundreds of people and do your unique, personal thing.  It also gave me the creative confidence to formulate a strong personal point of view and to create on top of that; I can think of of few better ways to prepare for life as a designer than to learn how to do jazz improvisation under pressure in front of a live audience.  On a more intangible level, my hours blowing a horn gave me a deep appreciation for the more ethereal aspects of a life well-lied, such as beauty, elegance, and joy. 

Most important of all, I was able to six years of daily reaching a state of flow.  When everything is going right in the creative act, you feel a sense of transcendent joy and power and mastery.  It's simply so awesome to experience as an individual, and in my opinion, it's even better when done as a team.  Just look at the body language of Brecker and Stern in that video above — there's extremely deep communication going on between then without a spoken word shared, and they take deep delight in helping each other get up to the top of that peak, and beyond.

From the standpoint of pure talent, I was never going to be a Michael Brecker-caliber saxophone player, no more than I will ever be as good a driver as Juan Manuel Fangio.  But the beautify of pursuing flow is that it gives you a chance to experience exactly what the greats like Brecker and Fangio experienced, even if the outside world doesn't quite rate your output at the same level. 

No matter: to be a person confident in one's creativity, what matters is what's going on between your ears.  Do you know how great it feels to be in flow, and do you want to keep getting back there?  Because that's all there is.  If we want to help kids and teenagers feel like all that creative juice in them is brimming with excitement, energy, and a passion to create, we need to help them find ways to wallow around in the marvellous experience of reaching flow via creative expression.  And let them go as deep as they want for as long as they want, whatever it may be.  If they can remember how that feels, wherever they go in life, they'll be able to live a creative one.

 

 

 

Designing for Difference with Chris Bangle

Chris Bangle Stanford Revs Program Diego Rodriguez

I'm very happy to be interviewing Chris Bangle onstage next week as part of an Open Garage series event at the Stanford Revs Program.  Our discussion will focus on the topic of "Designing for Difference in a World of Sameness".  I have nothing but respect for what Chris did at Fiat, BMW, Mini and beyond.  He knows what it means to believe passionately in a set of ideas, and to bring forth change to create something new in the world as an embodiment of those ideas.

The car I drive is a sculpture created by Chris and team, so you can imagine how stoked (and honored) I am to be having this discussion with him. 

I'd love to hear what kinds of questions you'd like me to ask Chris — please leave a comment below with your ideas, and I'll use them as input and inspiration for our talk.  Thank you!

Innovation Principles at Work: the Cannondale Hooligan

Cannondale Hooligan metacool

 

Behold the Cannondale Hooligan bicycle.

I hesitate to write this blog post, because I'm the prowl for a lightly used Cannondale Hooligan 3 — in matte black, natch!  (don't buy my bike, dude!)  The Hooligan is still in production, but the 2012 version only comes in a shade of green which, while really wild, doesn't quite have the aesthetic brilliance of the bike above, in my humble opinion.

The Hooligan is all about Principle 19, Have a point of view.  The Hooligan is a BMX bike fore adults, a ride for clowning around while you're commuting across town.  It's not trying to win the Tour de France, it's not something you'd wear spandex on, and there's nary a spring nor an ounce of carbon fiber to be found. 

What it is about is nimbleness and an extrovert aesthetic.  It's polarizing to be sure, but I have a soft spot for eccentric aesthetics, and so the Hooligan's point of view is aimed exactly at people like me. 

I love it.