year one

One year ago today I sat at the bar in Elephant & Castle and multitasked. I ate (turkey club) and drank (sierra nevada) and browsed (craigslist). I had just landed in San Francisco with two huge bags and no where to go.

Fast forward a couple of months, after briefs stints in the Presidio and Inner Richmond, and I was settled in my new apartment, enrolled in school and working part-time. My new life had officially begun.

I’ve talked about my move to the west coast several times on this blog, so no need to rehash old stories, but I do think it’s important to try to makes sense of it all. High Fidelity style, of course. Without further ado, I present my top 5 year one takeaways.

5) I really miss New York

Being this far away from all of my close friends and family has taken a toll. I’ve had to work for just about every relationship in SF and sometimes it’s exhausting (I don’t mean that in a bad way either. It’s just building one foundation after another, instead of having them established and accessible).

I miss the excitement and the unpredictable nature of the city. I miss the intensity, although I know it was a huge factor in deciding to leave. I miss the sea of diversity. And good god I miss the halal carts (When I’m back in August I’m heading straight to the dudes in yellow shirts on 53rd and 6th for my lamb platter).

4) I really like San Francisco

It’s beautiful here. The Pacific, the redwoods, the fog. I can’t get enough.

But what I really like is the positive energy. Unlike New York, people are supportive and optimistic. When I talked to Cameron a year ago, he told me that this is the best place to try something new and make mistakes. He wasn’t kidding.

I’ve read a lot about slow culture recently and I feel that here too. It keeps me (and my digital self) balanced and sane.

3) when in doubt, explore

I know this city like the back of my hand. Come to think of it, I know Tokyo pretty well too. I’ve always liked the idea of exploring, I just never did it in New York (It took me two years before I took my camera and wandered around Brooklyn).

Right now I’m reading Cognitive Surplus by Clay Shirky. In it he talks about how new technology is helping us evolve from passive consumers to active collaborators.

I am very much so a product of this evolution. I’ve been living sans television since moving out here and it’s been wonderful. I can always catch sporting events at bars and shows on Hulu and Netflix, but overall I feel liberated. And, to Shirky’s point, I now have time to do stuff. Instead of spending hours on my couch watching reruns of Saved By the Bell, I go outside and explore.

My expeditions have helped me start this blog, a meetup group and a side project.

2) I’m 100% committed to this whole planning thing

A year ago I thought about enrolling in the motion picture and television program at school. Six months ago I was all about art direction. My path to planning has been anything but direct and that’s exactly how I know that I’m headed in the right direction.

1) that detox was epic

Getting out of the ad world was crucial. I needed to take a huge step back and evaluate the game from a distance. I spent three years as an observing participant, but it was time to flip my role and take things in as a participating observer (obviously in love with my anthro class).

This year has been filled with observations and I am slowly learning to think, and act, like a planner. I am watching, imitating, sharing, creating and writing. I am meeting smart and interesting people. I’m building things and exploring.

My detox was all about shedding the sour account guy and taking steps (slowly) towards the curious plannerly-type. I have a long way to go, but so far, so good.

I think that covers it.

[Youtube = http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9uImDLvX0Bk&feature=related]

ethnography and design

I’m really diggin my anthropology class this (summer) semester. In it, we’ve be discussing ethnographies, participatory observation, fieldwork, taxonomies, etc. Thus far, these discussions have helped fuel my interests in a very positive way; namely pushing a new blog that examines coffee shop culture.

Since I’m at an art school, the class is also tailored to look at the impact anthropology can have on “today’s artist.”

This is where this great deck comes into play. It breaks down how to evaluate a situation and deduce insights to help connect with people. Empathy. Just like what all artists/planners/strategists/storytellers need to do on a daily basis.

I found it interesting and helpful. So, here I go, practicing step 6 with you.

hoodmapped: what cafe culture says about community values

I’ve been kicking around this idea of cafe observation as a path to cultural insights for a while now. It all started after reading a passage from Grant McCracken’s Chief Culture Officer that references a blog post by Russell Davies.

Davies suggests that being interesting is the key to success as a creative business person. One of his 10 suggestions is to spend an hour listening to people’s conversations at a coffee shop. Observe, listen, write, blog.

McCracken goes on to say that planners are good at noticing, empathy, ethnography and brainstorming. By utilizing these strengths, he says, planners gain a “deep knowledge of culture.”

This makes complete sense, so I’ve decided to put McCracken’s hypothesis (and Davies’ suggestion) to the test. I’m starting a series of cafe observations by neighborhood. It is my hope that I can gain a better understanding of the different communities in SF simply by listening to and observing coffee talk.

I’d love to get a couple of other planners involved and start to map this information. But for now I’m flying solo and soaking up the conversation.

Here are my notes from Divisadero. After reading through these I realize I’m going to need to focus a little more on conversations, speech acts, taxonomies, etc.

Mojo Bicycle Cafe, 6/21, 3:30-4:30pm

2 women chatting by the front window.

1 woman sitting alone, reading and taking notes.

2 men on laptops, engaged, typing.

1 man orders food and sits down to read the newspaper.

2 men hustling in the kitchen. One is stacking plates and glasses, the other is making sandwiches. Their discussion is infrequent, but only because they are busy. When they get a break, they talk about going on a bike ride together. The sandwich maker has on a Notorious BIG t-shirt that covers almost all of a tattoo on his right tricep. He wears several piercings on his face, including both ears, nose and lip.

Bicycle posters and prints line the walls. Sonic Youth plays on the speakers. They use Pandora to stream their music.

It smells like coffee beans and burnt toast.

A man rushes in and stops in front of the counter. He asked for an application. They only take resumes. He says “ok” and leaves.

I only get one bar in this place. AT&T continues to suck.

Three men with tattooed arms appear from the back garden. They set their glasses and plates in a tray before leaving. They are thankful.

One of the men behind the counter is wearing a Mojo shirt. He reminds the other man, in the Biggie shirt, to bus the tables when he has down time. Biggie shirt obliges. He grabs a damp towel and begins to wipe down empty tables. The appearance of the cafe is important.

Lots of skinny jeans and low top sneakers that look like vans, or chuck taylors.

I’m distracted by my sandwich, le marocain.

Constant flow of customers, in and out. The marocain and americanos are ordered more often than other items on the menu.

A bike mechanic, from the back, walks up to the pastry case, takes a cookie and returns to his position. Casual and deliberate.

A third guy appears behind the counter carrying a chalk board menu. He begins to re-chalk, carefully lettering new words. Again, appearance is important.

The woman to my right is hard at work. She is reading, highlighting and taking notes. Engaged, headphoned. She looks settled, as if she’s been here for a while. There are still remnants of brunch on her plate and an empty coffee mug. Her laptop hogs the table, but there is still room for a packet of papers, cellphone and canteen.

Biggie shirt calls out an order. A pair of ray-bans come stumbling in through the front door resting comfortably on the face of a 20-something guy. His ears are pierced. He is wearing a cardigan and tight black jeans. He grabs his food, says “thank you” and joins his female companion out front on the patio.

The two women by the front window are sitting on high bar stools. They are talking about their mothers.

A man pushes a stroller passed the front door. It is still inside. Quiet.

The woman to my right continues to work, but I can feel her occasional glances. She is writing. I am writing. There is an unspoken connection.

I put my headphones on. More customers. Another marocain and coffee. The first beer is ordered. Happy hour is starting. They have Big Daddy and Reality Czeck on tap. Air blasts from a tire in the bike shop. More skinny jeans. Enter and exit.

A woman on my left sits down and flips through a newspaper. She is drinking a beer. She is definitely not reading. Killing time, maybe. She is joined by a man who also drinking a beer. Chrome. Vans. North Face. Volcom. A delivery man rolls a large Jamis box from the back to the front and outside to his truck.

I make eye contact with a guy. His mustache is phenomenal.

A man wearing a helmet walks in with his bike. He heads straight to the back.

The couple to my left is now discussing plans for dinner. “What should we eat?” It seems rhetorical. They quickly shift topics.

The man returns from the back still wearing his helmet, but no longer attached to his bike. He orders the pesto sandwich. Biggie shirt knows him by name.

The woman on my right continues to highlight, face down and focused. Her scarf is wrapped snugly around her neck and chin.

There is a healthy silence on my left. This couple is comfortable. A theme for my stay.

A breeze blows in softly from the open front door.

Photo by Mr. Andrew Murray