aesthetics of joy

Ok, all you development people out there, here’s one to think about when you just can’t fathom picking up the phone to make one more “Help our cause” call. Own A Colour is a campaign to raise money for Unicef by naming colors in exchange for a donation. The donation for a color starts at 1£, but with 16.7 million colors available (the number that can be displayed by a contemporary computer screen) you can see how this could really add up.

Not only is the interface captivating, drawing on a tessellation motif that calls to mind the fragmented view through a kaleidoscope, but also I find the storytelling to be extremely well done. Using a mix of ordinary people and celebrities, the tiles are explained as they are named and claimed. Reading the stories, I’m reminded of this project, which also explores the interplay of color and memory, of the personal significance of a hue.

And while I know infographics are all the rage, and some of us may be getting a bit sick of them, I like this snapshot (below) as a way of navigating the color landscape. There’s something wonderful about seeing the different arrays of trending colors and random colors, and the color choices of different nationalities.

I’ve been talking a lot about generosity lately, about the idea that many things we find joyful are generous in some way, and I find this a great example because even though they’re asking for money, it still feels generous. I feel like I’m being given a world of color to explore and participate in. It makes me want to give. So let me get on that, and I hope you will too. Share a link to the colors you choose in the comments, or on Twitter!

They look almost like brightly colored mosses, don’t they? Like some new form of street lichen. Or a kind of chromatic filling compound. A rainbow grout.

This set of sculptures by artist Juliana Santacruz Herrera is a particularly striking example of yarnbombing, a form of knit or crochet-based street art that frequently reacts to the urban environment. In Herrera’s case, this means applying braided fabric in looped forms to cracks in the sidewalks of Paris. Like the pothole gardens and lego repairs I’ve written about in past posts, Herrera’s works use delight to call attention to the breakdown of infrastructure in the city. Like other yarnbombing projects, they work with maximal contrast – in color, contour, density, and texture – to catch our eyes and make us take notice. While they don’t actually fix the problems they’re addressing, it’s possible that inducing this kind of positive affect makes people more inclined to act to change their environments. More than an angry letter or a protest, these works create a desire to share with others, creating a kind of social momentum.

Herrera’s works are one more example of a phenomenon I call joyful repair – the act of mending or calling attention to a damaged element of the environment using color, texture, playful gestures, and other aesthetics of joy. It’s a form of joyful activism, which tries to bring about change through positive emotion, and it’s one of my very favorite applications of aesthetics of joy.

Here’s another example I’ve had in my files for awhile. Working at a slightly smaller scale, London artist Ben Wilson uses chewing gum splotches as a canvas for tiny, brightly colored sidewalk art. Wilson has been creating the paintings since 1998, and estimates he’s made over 10,000 of the little works! Interestingly, not long after he began his gum-painting endeavors, people began making requests for particular designs, often commemorative. So what began as litter has become an odd little system of tribute, like plaques on park benches or in front of newly planted trees. People want to be associated with something they feel good about, and with a little color and charm, that even could be improperly discarded chewing gum. The sidewalk at first seems an unusually mundane place for this sort of personal connection, but maybe not. After all, the sidewalk is the most intimate of transitory spaces in a community, the backdrop for so many of our daily dramas and spontaneous joys. Filling its holes, reclaiming its blemishes – in some way these are a deeply integral form of reconstruction.

There’s something else here, too. Projects like this are a signal that someone cares about a place, that the condition of that environment matters to someone. Someone is paying attention to the details. To make something beautiful is to invest time and energy in it, and these two are the most valuable, limited resources we have. We perceive this signal of caring and passion, often unconsciously, and we typically follow in kind. We read our landscape for cues about how to treat it, we draw inferences about the inhabitants, and we subtly alter our behavior to maintain this condition – or enhance it. These aesthetic signals often become a discourse of community, a conversation between the denizens of a place that leads, via a subtle form of one-upmanship, to the organic growth and improvement of our favorite places to call home. Alain de Botton has written (I’m paraphrasing here) that one of architecture’s purposes is to inspire us to be better people, and I would say the same for any of these urban interventions. We see improvements, and they unconsciously motivate us to improve ourselves.

Joyful repair projects can serve as jumpstarts for this process. This project, though not new, is a great example of this principle applied over a large scale. Called “Favela Painting,” this brightly colored village is the work of Dutch artists Jeroen Koolhaas and Dre Urhahn. Working in a slum outside Rio, their goal is to use art “as a tool to inspire, create beauty, combat prejudice, and attract attention.” The care and passion embodied by the murals effectively transforms the favela from outside in. Some really thoughtful words about the effects of this project, on the Magical Urbanism site:

‘Favela painting’ affects the aesthetic order of how favelas are perceived from within and outside its natural embryonic growth. Colour brings hope. It brings a different understanding of space and its people, inviting others to co-create and co-represent much more constructively and positively life here. It appeals to our senses in a way that we do not reject but embrace these places and the potential for better life. It articulates a different discourse of social change; of engagement, contributing to improve life for favela dwellers.

It’s hard to say it any more succinctly than “color brings hope.” It suggests energy, and as such it has an uplifting and an attractive power. It’s a harbinger of better things to come. As I think about the phenomenon of joyful repair, I’m reminded of the root of the word repair, the Latin parare, “to make ready.” By repairing things, we are making them ready again. By repairing them joyfully, we’re making them ready for wonderful things to happen in the future.

Images: Juliana Santacruz Herrera on Flickr via designboom; Ben Wilson via Inhabitat; Favela Painting via The Fox Is Black.

{Thank you Maggie and BD}

How many times have you walked past an old abandoned building and thought: that would be a great place for a bar/library/gallery/fill-in-the-blank? On runs through Red Hook and along the Gowanus Canal, I often find myself struck by certain wabi sabi looking warehouses and industrial buildings and thinking about the wonderful kinds of “third places” that could inhabit them. Abandoned buildings are evocative substrates for this kind of architectural daydreaming — like discarded hermit crab shells, they have both history and possibility.

I love the way this idea, The Hypothetical Development Project, takes those germs of imagined futures and makes them visible. The project, a public art collaboration between Rob Walker, Ellen Susan, and G.K. Darby, creates renderings of ideas for uses of abandoned buildings in New Orleans, which will be posted at the sites like developers’ renderings. In this case, though, the envisioned uses are a bit left of center. A Museum of the Self, with an enormous Facebook-style thumbs up is one; a Loitering Centre is another. Juxtaposed against the forlorn emptiness of abandoned structures, these silly fantasies feel delightful — they are uninhibited manifestations of creative energy, filtered through a lens of hope.

That they are implausible is their charm, but I half-h0pe that one of them will be compelling enough to stick. The trio is raising funds via Kickstarter (they’re very close to their goal, and just need a little help getting over the line!), and I imagine a sequel where popular passion for one of the Hypothetical Development ideas becomes the seed for a real, crowdsourced development project. I feel like we need more unconventional spaces for people to convene in our urban environments, and it’s exciting to think about how fiction can find new possibilities in old structures. In effect, these renderings are like playful narrative prototypes, highlighting new ways and places to gather in the years to come.

The Hypothetical Development Project home page
Hypothetical Development Kickstarter campaign

Can something say “Keep Out!” and still be joyful?

This was the question that popped into my head as I considered the Razzle Dazzle Sculptural Security object, the angular plywood contraption jammed in the window of the house pictured above, by Detroit-based Design 99. The purpose of the Razzle Dazzle (more examples of which you can see below) is to protect empty houses from squatting and vandalization, a common problem in Detroit neighborhoods. An alternative to boarding up doors and windows, the method signifies that someone is interested in looking after a place.

A strong thread of joyful activism runs through all of Design 99′s projects: the brightly-painted Power House, a community space cum sculpture made from a previously empty house, or the Neighborhood Machine, a similarly hued Bobcat with trailers that can be appended for various urban renewal tasks, such as gardening and collecting found material. For these projects, aesthetics of joy such as bright color, stripes, and other patterns catch the eye and raise awareness for urban renewal projects. They also telegraph the spirit of the movement, and offer an exuberant energy that might inspire volunteers and invite onlookers to join in. The aesthetics visually convey the intent of the artists behind Design 99, Gina Reichert and Mitch Cope:

The Power House intends to be a stimulator and not an end in itself as a singular art object. The Power House is a broadcaster of potential ideas and a place to plug those ideas into. The Power House will be used as an interactive site, by us and by our neighbors. The Power House will become a symbol for creativity, new beginnings and social interaction within the neighborhood.

But while the house and the machine seek to invite, the purpose of the Razzle Dazzle is entirely different. It’s a three-dimensional “No Trespassing” sign. So there’s an inherent tension between the spiky, angular form, which articulates (and enforces) the “stay away” message, and the vibrant pattern, which is a visceral enticement. There is also a tension in the way the piece is crafted. The Razzle Dazzle’s form is haphazard, seemingly cobbled together from debris — something you might expect to see at an abandoned site. It looks like it might itself be an act of vandalism. But the deliberate color treatment transforms the meaning of the piece. It says, “Someone put me here on purpose,” and therefore, “Someone cares about this place.”

In this way, the Razzle Dazzle is inviting. Through a splash of color, it offers the promise that a space will be inhabited by people who will care for it and restore it. It’s an invitation to return, suggesting that next time you visit, it may not be an abandoned shack, but a lively business, a vibrant community gathering space, or a home. It’s a joyful “Keep Out,” because it’s also a “Come Back Soon.”

{via Core77}

Power House and Neighborhood Machine

Neighborhood Machine with solar panel trailer attached

Gardening trailer for Neighborhood Machine

Razzle Dazzle Sculptural Security objects

Artist Pete Dungey says of his Pothole Gardens, “If we planted one of those in every hole, it would be like a forest in the road.” Indeed. And a gorgeous, surprising example of urban renewal and joyful activism.

{via for the love of bikes}

Design is at its most effective when it encourages or transforms human behavior for the better. There’s a lot of talk about how we need adopt healthier or more eco-friendly habits. The onus is on us to make the changes, but design can facilitate the behavior and make it easier or more enjoyable to change. Examples abound: the George Foreman grill, dedicated recycling bins, 100-calorie snack packaging. All of these things make it easier to do the right thing. Easier, yes, but not necessarily any more pleasurable, which is where The Fun Theory comes in.

An initiative of Volkswagen, the Fun Theory is a series of experiments that demonstrate how joyful design can encourage positive changes in behavior. In the video above, a staircase goes from being the less-chosen alternative to the escalator to the preferred path after the addition of some giant piano keys. In another video, litter collection rises after an amusing noise is introduced to a public trash can.

The pre/post measurements are striking and really prove the point that aesthetics of joy — through interaction, play, sound, and surprise — can create real, immediate change in the way we live.

{via PSFK}

Nice op-ed piece by Michael Gerson in today’s Washington Post about the “joyful revolution” that the Special Olympics created in our country’s treatment of intellectually disabled people. He writes about the transformation the opportunity to participate and triumph in competitive sport wrought on the cultural understanding of these people, who previously had been “among the most isolated, overlooked and oppressed citizens in America, often hidden in remote institutions, restrained and medicated, unacknowledged by their families.”

“It was America’s most joyful civil rights movement,” he writes, “a revolution of play.” A very powerful tribute, and a wonderful example of the success of joyful activism, which transformed a culture and still continues to transform individuals day after day.

There is a deeply moving recording from a speech given by Eunice Kennedy Shriver on the Special Olympics website right now. It’s only about a minute and well worth a listen.

WP: The Joyful Revolution

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!)

Joyful activism is a theme that keeps popping up these days. Rather than angry protests, a lot of people are realizing that a good way to effect change is to make people feel good.

I love this project, the Bed Stuy Meadow, by 21st Century Plowshare, the goal of which is to cover every vacant patch of land in the somewhat rough-and-ready neighborhood with wildflowers. Joy is at the heart of the activist premise:

The profusion of wildflowers will probably be relentless and visually unifying, and this relentless unity of wildflowers will probably make anyone walking down the street feel really good.

And the designer here recognizes that such positivity can have a contagious effect:

I want people who don’t even live within the five boroughs to visit Bed Stuy for the first time so that they can see the Meadow with their own eyes, and I want people who will never even come to be so inspired by the Bed Stuy Meadow that they make their own amazing neighborhood project and share it on 21st Century Plowshare.

Guerrilla actions such as this one have a much greater likelihood of success when the tone is positive. In a way, the Bed-Stuy meadow is a form of graffiti, the exertion of one person’s artistic will over a communal environment, but who can object to flowers? I think we’ll be seeing a lot more initiatives like this one in the coming years.

via PSFK

I love this project, called TRASH: any color you like, by the artist Adrian Kondratowicz. The project involved getting local businesses in a particular area to put out their trash in these specially designed hot pink polka-dotted bags. Typically we pass by piles of garbage bags on our city streets without blinking, but these are so strikingly different, we can help but take notice. And in the process, the artist hopes, we’ll reflect on just how much trash we throw away.

I love this because it’s one of many examples of what I see as a new trend in social and environmental advocacy: joyful activism. Joyful activism looks to incite changes in behavior not by scaring or shaming people, but through the power of positive emotion. I can’t help but think that when we’re made aware of an issue through this kind of joyful disruption, we receive the information with a different level of openness, and that we might just be more receptive to the idea of change.