aesthetics of joy

My post describing the phenomenon that I call “joywashing” has provoked some interesting discussion online and off. In the meantime, examples keep coming. This morning while catching up a couple reruns of Top Chef Masters, I was struck by this new ad from Clorox Cleanup. The voiceover goes:

When everything’s just the way you want it. When it’s so clean there’s nothing left to think about and nothing left to do. That’s joy. The pure joy of the pure clean that comes with Clorox Bleach.

Then the tagline: pure joy. pure clean.

If cleaning had an emotional territory in the past, it was zen. Cleaning was about calming the storm, taming the flow of mess, getting things under control. The clean home at the end of an ad was a picture of stillness — just Mom and her well-deserved cup of tea, with even the dog neatly groomed and obediently seated. When the economy was good and we worked too hard, the emotional quality of home we aspired to was relaxation and zen-like tranquility. Home was a refuge against the busyness of the outside world. Now, in the days of pink slips and furloughs, all that peace and quiet feels isolating and, honestly, a little scary. Home now needs to be a place of vibrant energy to counter the gloom that surrounds us. The cultural significance of “home” has shifted, and smart marketers will realize that this requires a different kind of emotional content to sell products for this space.

I actually like the ad and I think the territory is a credible space for a cleaning brand to play. Clorox is perhaps a little harsh and I think it would more appropriate to their green cleaning brand or another, gentler sort of product. But there is kind of a joy to the moment they’re describing, when all the work is done and the house is really, truly clean. They’ve backed it up with joyful aesthetics: pops of color that stand out in the white rooms, high energy movements, that well-placed giant bubble, and music that has a soaring quality that matches the tone.

The language may be a little strong. I think that “pure joy” might be an overpromise and it’s risky given the joywashing trend to be so reliant on words like “joy,” “happy,” etc. The reality is that when words like this are so overused in a given time period they become very fluid. We think we know what these words mean because they are so fundamental to our language, but when they are claimed and associated with many different products and experiences in such a short timeframe, their meanings are volatile and susceptible to shift. The word “green” is the best recent example of this.

So, is Clorox’s joy-of-washing positioning joywashing? Perhaps, but my instinct says it will do ok for them. It may require some nimble thinking to maintain differentiation once the rest of the competitive space latches on to the idea. Product or packaging innovation to support the promise would help, because while the aesthetics of a clean home are consistent with joy, the acrid tang of bleach is decidedly not. I don’t know that they can do anything about that (bleach is bleach), but perhaps new scents or gentler formulations could provide sensory support for the joy positioning. It will be interesting to watch how the home space, and especially cleaning brands, evolve in this new emotional context.

If you happen to be in Brooklyn or a subway ride away, add some joy to your weekend by celebrating Bastille Day two days early this Sunday on Smith St. As usual, the street will be covered with sand for the world’s largest petanque tournament, and the rosé and Ricard will be flowing.

I’m tempted to wax poetic about the various joyous elements of this event (celebration! freedom! the wonderful weirdness of sand between your toes in the middle of downtown Brooklyn!) but it’s 5:30 on a Friday so I’ll refrain. The event runs from 2pm-10pm, near Bar Tabac off the Bergen St. F stop.

Happy weekend, and hope to see you there!

This joyful Friday continues with this wonderful item from Inhabitat on DIY pools made from recycled dumpsters. You would never know that those glorious sparkling blue boxes used to hold demo’d drywall and rebars. I wonder if I can convince Lila and BD to put one of these in the garden downstairs. Maybe if it were circular…

Via Inhabitat

Here’s an idea that’s long overdue. Joyful cleaning products! A few years ago, Method and Mrs. Meyers made the consumable side of cleaning a lot more joyful with bright scents and clean packaging. Now the Alice Supply Co. brings the aesthetics of joy to bear on the durables: buckets, plungers, brooms, toolboxes.

That garden hose in particular makes me salivate for place in the country with some big Martha Stewart-y flower beds. Are brightly colored cleaning supplies going to get the toilet any cleaner? No. But they might just make you feel a little less like Cinderella while you’re scrubbing. . .

Via Daily Candy

It is out of control how much joy the world is putting out there today! I can’t keep up.

These polka dots were spotted on a pedestrian walkway in Times Square by my friend Maggie. She says, “The minute I saw them, esp as a New Yorker knowing they weren’t there before, definitely got a burst of JOY!”

Great find! They remind me of the purple footprints that appeared around the city in the 1980s. Does anyone know what these polka dots are all about? Is there a message or are they just for fun?

Today I have a post on DeepGlamour about the history of lapdog glamour, investigating how tiny pups became associated with Hollywood and high fashion. But the whole idea for the post started because while I see that Paris Hilton and her many imitators tote around their Chihuahuas in their designer bags like status symbols, I just don’t get it. Those little dogs are so impish and funny that they’re like a living parody of the whole idea of glamour. For me, little dogs are not about status or sophistication but about joy.

Small dogs are pure personality coated with fur. I see them on the city streets and everything they do just makes me laugh. They’re the anti-trophy, the anti-status symbol. They love unconditionally, indiscriminately, energetically, and with abundance. Their values are the opposite of the scarcity and exclusivity that define status. Unlike the affected aloofness of the high-class, small dogs (actually, all dogs) are interested in everything and everyone. They trample joyously over the carefully constructed distance that celebrities create for themselves, romping over to sniff a potential buddy, oblivious to the fact that they might expose their owner to unwanted conversation.

Perhaps this is the allure. Perhaps the little dog becomes the way to break down barriers for those of a certain social strata. Even socialites and starlets need joy, especially when it can be disguised as a posh Chihuahua in an in-season purse.

Image: Nutloaf

A couple more joyful images from my friend Ben. If I had a slide in my building like the one on the left, I would never take the stairs!

Lately I’ve been researching the history of flight. I was particularly struck by this quote, by Jacques Alexandre César Charles, one of the first balloon fliers. This was also one of the the first manned flights above earth’s surface ever, as the balloon was the first craft capable of providing true lift (not the gliding action of manned kites).

Nothing can compare with the joy that filled me as I flew away from the surface of the earth. It was not a pleasure, it was blissful delight. . . . [A] majestic spectacle unfolded before our eyes. Wherever we turned our gaze, we saw the heads of people, above us a sky free from cloud and in the distance the most alluring view in the world.

I can only imagine what it must have felt like to see something that no one had ever seen before, except in dreams. I know how seeing the world from above feels to me, even after seeing it many, many times, but I can only imagine what a profound shift in consciousness it would be to be among the very first.

Those interested in the history of flight can find more info in this excellent book.

Photo: Melouw

Simply mesmerizing assemblage of joyful underwater photos on flickrblog today. Feels just right for a hot summery New York day!

Photo: estelucy

Flickrblog clearly has someone on staff who is as obsessed with aerial views as I am. I can’t resist this beautiful collage. Makes me want to get on a plane to somewhere far, far away.

Being interested as I am in joyful objects, it’s only natural that I’ve become obsessed with all things bubble, ball, and balloon. So when the dvd of The Red Balloon caught my eye in the local video store, I couldn’t resist bringing it home.

It must be more than 20 years since I’d seen it, but the film has a way of turning you back into a child. This happens so subtly that you don’t even notice, and the joy you feel at Pascal’s discovery of the balloon is as unfiltered and real as it would be if it were you climbing that Paris lamppost, seeking out that enormous floating treasure. And the pain at its eventual fate is just as real, just as sharp as a child’s.

In childhood we feel these emotions for the first time, and for this reason they remain at their peak of intensity in our memory. Perhaps this is why coveted objects from our childhood, like balloons, become so deeply symbolic of joy later in our lives. But there is still the question of why we are attracted to them so intensely in the first place, and I think this points to intrinsic qualities that entice us no matter how far we are from childhood.

In a 2007 review, Entertainment Weekly critic Owen Gleiberman wrote:

The timeless magic of Albert Lamorisse’s mostly wordless 34-minute 1956 fable. . . begins with the balloon itself, which looks like no other balloon you’ve ever seen. It’s so shiny and tactile, so luscious in its utter balloon-ness, that it’s like some wondrous spherical lollipop.

Joy begins with aesthetics, with our sensory experience of the world, with qualities like shininess, redness, roundness, and lusciousness. The aesthetics, and their contrast with the muted surrounds, capture our attention, the beam of conscious awareness that causes us to then notice all the other joyful aspects of the object, which are also communicated aesthetically. Aspects such as its magical movements — hovering inexplicably outside a window when it is cast outside, and taking off after an attractive blue balloon in the hands of a pretty girl encountered on the street — its surprising personality, and the story it tells.

Of course, the red balloon is not just an example of the aesthetics of joy. It is joy itself, and I was struck most of all by the purity of the allegory in the nearly-wordless narrative.

Joy is often found when you are not looking for it, and in unexpected places. It rewards the observant and those willing to make an effort to attain it. Joy has a mind of its own — you cannot predict where it will pop up or how long it will stay.

Joy is not welcome in school, a sad statement that is all too often true in contemporary education. And it is not welcome in church, though it should thrive there too. It isn’t really welcome in much of the adult world, and some adults are impervious to joy, but fortunately the child’s world is a much nicer place to dwell. Yet there are also adults whose inner children are alive and well — those who will gladly shield your joy from a stormy day under their umbrella or smile just to see it go by.

You cannot take joy by force, no matter how hard you try. You can kill it, though, but only for a moment. Because real joy is abundant and irrepressible, and always available to those who are open to it.

The film is online in its entirety here, but I can’t tell you how much I hope you don’t watch this version. There is so much pleasure in the details of this film, details lost in this low-quality upload. Put it in your Netflix queue and wait for the real thing, and let me know if it brings you as much joy as it did to me.

I have a post in draft form (that I hope, eventually, will see the light of day) about universal vs. individual aesthetics of joy. Of course everyone has different things that bring them joy, but they don’t necessarily conform to what would be defined culturally as joyful aesthetics.

My project generally focuses on the more general, more universal aesthetic patterns because it makes it easier to draw lessons that can be applied broadly to design. But occasionally I come across what I would call a “counter-aesthetic” of joy: an object or space that on the surface looks to be the very opposite of joy, yet someone has managed to wring delight from it.

The trigger nearly always has to do with personal experience, as is the case here, with these photographs of the Gowanus Canal by José Gaytan. Gaytan, a Brooklynite who grew up in Juarez, Mexico, was attracted to the canal by a familiar smell. “That aroma is embedded in my brain,” he says, “a mix of sewage, kerosene and oil.” Which doesn’t sound so appealing, except that it reminds Gaytan of his handyman grandfather, and the junkyards he used to play in while he was alongside him on jobs.

This illuminates one of the true marvels of emotions in the brain. Aromas, colors, textures, sounds — all of these things can become associated with positive or negative feelings through experience and memory. Especially aroma. Current research suggests that smell is processed differently in the brain from the other senses, and may therefore have a stronger link to long-term emotional memories. So a smell (stench?) that for most of us might connote filth in need of a Superfund cleanup, for someone else evokes the joy of childhood.

Where this gets interesting is art. To feel joy where others don’t is wonderful, yet limited. But to try to shine a light on your joy and share it with the world, especially when it involves overcoming preconceived notions, is a powerfully transformative act and deserves a place in the schema of aesthetics of joy. A success in this regard is to make us see a place with fresh eyes. As Barbara Wing, curator of the Brooklyn Public Library’s exhibit of Gaytan’s photographs, says, “He really looks at details we don’t notice. The colors are fantastic, almost painterly.” Just as long as they don’t come with the smells. . .

Thanks for the tip, Dad!

Exhibit, at the Brooklyn Public Library, now through August 29th
NYT story

Thank you to my friend Ben for these amazing rainbow pictures over the Sydney harbor (or, I should say, harbour!). Rainbows have a way of making the whole earth seem enchanted and surreal. I especially love how the light in the pic above makes everything under the rainbow seem brighter, like the world under the rainbow is charmed.

The pieces of this cut-down willow tree have been sitting on the sidewalk in my neighborhood for over a month. With the rainy June, the pieces have evidently decided it’s time to reestablish themselves, breeding new life from what seemed like dead stumps.

It’s a bittersweet sight, and yet the ferocity with which living things cling to life is inspiring. This is the nature of joy (and the joy of nature), to rise green and exuberant from the wreckage, renewing that which we thought was demolished.

When Bernanke talks about “green shoots” in our economy, I think of this tree, and it makes me smile.

There is so much to love about The Uniform Project, a joyful experiment in charitable, sustainable fashion. Inspired by the plight of over 7.5 million children living in Indian slums who do not get to go to school, Uniform Project founder Sheena Matheiken has challenged herself to wear the same dress every day for a year. Each day she donates $1 to the Akanksha Foundation which educates children from the slums in Indian cities.

This is a great example of joyful activism, where people are finding a way to raise awareness for causes through positive emotion and an aesthetic to match. One of these days I should do a mood board to illustrate the contrast between the old aesthetic of activism (lots of red, graphic protest posters, fields of tree stumps, animals caught in traps, etc.) and the emerging aesthetic of joyful activism (bright colors, dancing, hot pink garbage bags, seed bombs, crocheted signpost covers, etc.). Both styles obviously have place in the arsenal of persuasion, but it’s great to see the evolution of this inspiring new style of activist communication. A skeptic would say that fashion and aesthetics are incidental to the cause at hand, but look at how much money she has raised ($4,308 at this point), and even more important, how much awareness. Far more than if she’d just sent around one of those Facebook causes requests we’re all so sick of.

I also think this is a huge lesson in sustaining joy over time through creativity. The “uniform,” a simple black dress, presents itself as a canvas, one that Matheiken adorns largely though recycled accessories from her own closet and places like eBay and Etsy. The Uniform Project surprises and delights us not with what’s new each day, but how the new elements transform the basic dress into something different. With a scavenged doily as a collar or a bow or a headscarf, Matheiken shows us a new perspective on something we thought we already knew, and this rediscovery is deeply joyful.

This is this challenge before us, when it comes to making things not just physically sustainable but emotionally sustainable. We have to find ways to take existing spaces, objects, relationships and infuse them with new life using the things we already have, renewing the joy we felt when we first acquired them by allowing us to see them in new ways. This project is a wonderful reminder that a creative spirit and a joyful attitude can really make such magic happen.

via Daily Candy (great video too!)

There’s a joy wave afoot, and every marketer from here to Timbuktu is trying to get in on the action. We get it. We’re in the midst of the Great Recession, people are gloomy, and if you’re going to flog more sportscars or soda or chiclets right now pretty much the only way to do it is to sweep us off our feet in a haze of good cheer. But all cheery marketing campaigns are not created equal.

“A little piece of happy” should be joyful. After all, that’s one way to define what joy is: little pieces of happiness. But this campaign isn’t joyful. Some of the items are entertaining, like the happy news feed and the Pandora playlist. Others are just dumb, like the pic of the chihuahua wearing goggles or the image of the two starfish holding hands (the caption reads “star crossed lovers” — har har). But my real problem with it is that it just seems like a novelty, a gimmick — all talk, no real emotion. Just because it’s timed to the recession with a peppy vibe doesn’t make it a winner. Would you visit this site more than once or twice? Would you post it on your facebook page or send it to half your address book? Do you now suddenly feel a rush of delight every time you chew a piece of the same old Trident?

I think this campaign is joywashing — the shameless use of happiness or joy to convince us to buy more stuff. Real joy is deep, repeatable, and contagious. And unless there’s something special in the formula, it doesn’t come from a stick of gum.

I would like to know what words make people feel joyful. I just finished reading Eric Weiner’s The Geography of Bliss, a book that illuminates several truths about joy, and in one very funny passage, he comments on the way the name Moldova has a certain emotional quality:

Even the name sounds melancholy. Moldooova. Try it. Notice how your jaw droops reflexively and your shoulders slouch, Eeyore-like. (Unlike “Jamaica,” which is impossible to say without smiling.)

It’s true about Jamaica. I think this simple pronunciation exercise could be a prescription on a list of things designed to help people nudge up their happiness levels, ever so slightly. If people got out of bed every morning for a month and said “Jamaica” a couple times before they went about their days, I wonder what effects it might have.

It is really just a silly, but enjoyable form of facial feedback, a phenomenon well-documented by psychologists where a person’s facial expressions have been demonstrated to impact their mood. One particularly interesting experiment asked participants to rate a set of cartoons while holding a pencil either between their teeth or their lips. Holding a pencil between your teeth forces your mouth into a smile (you can try this yourself) while holding it between your lips curves your mouth downward into a frown. The subjects who rated the very same set of cartoons with the pencil between their teeth on average found the cartoons funnier than the “lips” group. Other studies have induced certain expressions in people by giving them instructions on which muscles to contract, and subjects have reported feeling anger and other emotions due to the induced expressions.

So maybe pronouncing joyful words, words that make our mouth muscles curve up into a smile, can make us feel more joyful. What words make you joyful? I’d love to know!

Image: edwindejongh

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HappyHappy is a site-specific installation designed by the Korean artist Choi Jeong-Hwa for the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, as the prelude to an exhibit entitled “Your Bright Future: 12 Contemporary Artists from Korea.” Choi is considered the father of Korean pop art, and over time has demonstrated a strong interest in creating art from recycled plastic materials, though the containers used in this installation are from local 99c stores. Near the entrance to the museum, visitors can walk through the installation and are free to touch as they pass by. You can see a slideshow here.

Being free to touch makes things much more joyful. Deepening the sensory experience ensures that people relate to an object or a space in a more immersive, complete way. And of course, in a museum, there is always the transgressive pleasure of touching the artwork, as this commenter notes. It’s also telling the way people react in the space, which in at least for the person above is with a joyful exuberance seemingly absorbed from the bright, saturated colors. I love the whimsy of the way ordinary objects (like the wiffle balls, below) are transformed by abundance and scale.

My only ambivalence is plastic. The benefit of plastic is that it allows for such wonderful colors and is relatively lightweight. But aside from its environmental negatives (like the fact that it will be around forever), it’s also remarkably asensory. It has a superficial kind of molded texture, but no deep, innate tactility (like ceramic, glazed or unglazed, for example, or metal, or wood). Its temperature is unremarkable, its luminosity changeable but somewhat flat. Of course, many many joyful things are made of plastic, and its infinite malleability does lend itself to joy in some sense, but I wonder if a deeper level of emotion could be invoked with a different material.

HappyHappy appears to be a theme for Choi, who has created other artworks under the same name, such as this installation at a Seoul stadium (more photos here) and many participatory HappyHappys filed here under Public Art.

Top image: jek in the box, Bottom image: LACMA

Tip via Virginia Postrel