Meta-Tagging Your Life

previously titled “Mind Tag – You’re It”. My mind goes through so much subject matter with all that’s going on. My more precise thinking disappears before I can get my fingers to march.

Flit flit go the pages..

Flit flit the remarkable sentiment Obama unearthed deep in America’s heartland on Super Tuesday, flit flit Recession panic circling flip bookthe globe showing how much the rest of the world looks to us to know their own fate, flit flit the conversation I had with an Indian bricolage store owner on Faubourg du Temple where he told me that the caste system in India has disappeared (his words) and how the country is becoming predominantly Muslim because in the Muslim religion there IS no caste system (his words); he thinks there will be a Christian Muslim World War Flit flit how a new bar for innovation in the online and offline world has us soaring to ever more hypoxic heights, flit flit my newly pricked ears homing in on companies like Ideo, flit flit taking online social networking innovations offline, flit flit amorphic online offline design and social space experience, flit flit living in paris, flit flit not living in paris, flit flit the view of New York from Paris, flit flit Should I consider Shangai? Hong Kong? How could I even get there? Could I find a way to live in the east for six months? flit flit the universal love quagmire and the single woman, and on and on.

While writing this an ex-boyfriend started up a video chat so again, my attention is divided. The distractions of multiple tabs and multiple agendas. I am writing and submitting. I am looking for a job. This is the first time that I am REALLY looking for a job because I want one and not just for the money. Actually honest to goodness desirous of a company I can believe in and call home. And it can be in Shanghai or Tokyo or Portland. I am open. I have a fantasy of looking out from plate glass windows onto some wilderness in some sort of city on the ocean/forest/cliff side/mountain range so that I can feel elements other than taxi horns, pedestrian body smacking, and foie gras stinky cheese sewage concoctions – but I love cities so I can accept the aforementioned. I just want my future to be ‘tagged’ innovation, design, experiential, experimental, revolutionary, ethnographic, social network, social space, team, creativity, and best of all user generated.

A CHORUS OF MANY VOICES FROM LIVES LIKE YOUR OWN BUT NOT

I currently live in Paris in case that wasn’t clear. I’m dedicated to my search to get a small chorus of multinational voices going as I continue to talent scout in the city of the ‘createur’ (createuse). I am looking for photographers, artisans, artists, visionaries, and designers for my next shopping party hosted in my home. I have found a great Vietnamese sister duo who have a store not far from my apartment. They are going to find a gang of like-minded souls that I can sift through as well. At least in theory they are.

I’m very happy to have Aja contributing to this site and I have a few interesting thought leaders lined up. Aja’s next post is already waiting in the wings as her mind is as fast as a Virgin Galactic plane. Daonne Huff has also written. She writes about sexuality in New York from a different point of view – not the jaded been there done that trickster viewpoint. It’s not ready to post though.

ON CROSS CULTURAL RESUMES

And outside New York, where I’m aiming to pick up more traction, I’ve met a woman at an international women in business event at the Deloitte & Touche building here in Paris who I think would be of great interest to you. She’s from Alicante, Spain. She just got her MBA (with a semester in India), she’s lived in Madrid and speaks Italian, Spanish, French and Russian. She raised her hand with great enthusiasm to say she was looking for a job in India and wanted to write a c.v./resume that would be of interest to Indian companies but make sure to separate it from her European C.V. (resume) in her online profile. What reads well in France wouldn’t work in India – or New York for that matter. In France, including a picture on your c.v. has been customary for years (one woman claims that’s a thing of the past but I was told to do so) and they always seem to ask your marital status and what your parents do -even when you’re in your 30s – and its not against the law. There is not one universal way to present yourself that is palatable or relatable to employers internationally.

FEAR OF FLYING IS NOT JUST A BOOK BY ERICA JONG

We know India and China have huge growth opportunities but I was really struck by the enthusiasm she had for every day life in Southern India. The danger right now is that these countries are drawing their own talent back home from the United States where they came to be FREE and CREATE and PROSPER because of our as-of-late impossible immigration policies and fear based government. But the even bigger danger is that us as Americans are still the most hesitant in the world to embrace cultures different from our own. ‘Assimilate to our ways gosh dang it’, would say our president. We are not natural emigrants – anymore. We cling to our comfort zone more than most anyone. Australians, as we’ve all seen, seem to get up and go and keep going once they do (I know, they live in the middle of nowhere). And though the French are afraid to put their toe in the water, the people I meet in Europe are infinitely better traveled than anyone (including me) that I’ve known in America. They are happy to trot around the globe as much as possible for work and adventure. We’re the ones that think Turks and Caicos is far enough for most vacations. It’s no surprise – with just ‘two weeks’ and 15 hour work days, there are a lot of reasons why this happens.

NOT GETTING INTO OBAMA HILARY

Lets see how the earth (r)evolves in 2009. I won’t get into Obama and Hilary as I really have to walk my dog but I will say I do hope to hear from my new Spanish friend and that she will tell you more about why she is so antsy to get back to life in Southern India.

-Chauncey

awningtree1.jpg

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In Print: The Design Moment for Terrace Magazine

It’s on the topic of the Design Moment and it’s published in this first issue of Terrace by the founders of the brilliant and inimitable Trace. Pick it up at your local (better) newsstand. By the way, that’s me with the hat in the lower center square. Inspired by my 2007 visit to the Salone del Mobile.

And here’s the video:

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Art vs. Marketing

I used to think if I pursued art, it would be like spitting in the ocean. Who would care? Who would hear me? I told my 25 year old self, if you attach yourself to brands and big business, play not by the rules of making money, but in acknowledgment of them, you can get a word in edgewise. If you make art you’ll be like that hippy dancing in the crowd at a Phish concert with her eyes closed. (for me that’s a bad thing). You’ll be in your own art universe. And starving. It seemed to me: make your contribution quantifiable, make it count, make it consumable, make it tangible.

But that was then. Now everyone’s selling to one another.

‘Buy me’

‘No buy me’

‘Buy me!’

It’s another form of taking turns talking. It seems pointless. All this clever stealth marketing is zapping creativity from the creative population. Everybody has an agenda.

How can anybody even see?

I went onto a Paris hipster site tonight someone sent me to learn more about the FIAC art fair going on here this weekend. On the site, famous Paris personalities listed their favorite spots here. Of course an actress listed a regular movie theater that will be debuting her movie and another woman talked about a store that carried her clothes. Give me a break.
When I hosted a panel of marketers at a conference last year, I carefully planned out questions that would probe the evolution of online marketing but my guests got up and one by one plugged their brands, products, and websites. At one point, one of the panelists hijacked the whole thing by standing up in the middle of the thing to click through a powerpoint of his companies services! Something I explicitly told him not to do. It was the Jerry Springer of Marketing Panels. Each one, especially the young guns, got up to outshout the other.

Sometimes what used to excite me about the entrepreneurial spirit of the creative class is starting to look like the spit of a thousand jaded and corporate-ized cool kids sinking into the ocean. They are turning into the monsters they were running from.

No matter what you do for $$$, if you commit yourself to art, your art, as few people as there might be who see it, you can rest assured that you are actually saying something that is not related to a consumable, profitable, interchangeable, extinguishable, questionable, suspicious, depleting thing. It’s something actual. Something human. something flawed and living. Something that means something, even if it means something to 5 people or 2 or just you.

I’m not being idealistic. We have to make money. We have to produce food and machinery and fashion and ipods and shoes and beverages and hand soap. I just think we need to do have some separation again of church and state. The French seem to still be able to do both but that capacity is diminishing. The production of free time that we’ve nurtured seems to be actually just the production of more work time. If you want to discuss this, I’ve formed a What Women Make group on LinkedIn. Look it up and ask to join.

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Off the Grid: When the Digitally Obsessed Stops It All To Write a Novel

Before I landed in Biarritz in July, my MySpace Page was a carefully manicured lawn. Flickring was my scrapbook and practically my full length mirror. I added Facebook to my arsenal and occasionally opened mail from Friendster. But lately, I don’t fish around on Small World. I don’t upload, stumble!, google, youtube, or filter feeds. I sometimes ichat, usually gchat, but don’t download. Instead, I test out pens and spend the extra dollar or two for a good one. I collect good journals and fill them. I draw. I’ve traded in my mechanical hand for the tendons and small bones of my own.

My eyes widened at an article from a friend in my inbox, a continuum of the siren calls from afar bringing me back, stirring me from my pestle and mortar stupor. It was an article about a ‘Girl Power’ (a term whose skin tingling triteness makes my neck rotate, Body Snatchers style) but wiping away the image of pink hearts with boxing gloves, I see it’s about the now tired story of a 17 year old raking in millions, this one making cute graphics for MySpace layouts and rejecting the million(s) dollar buyout offer saying, ‘whatever.’

The Internet social networking phenom turneth surprisingly s–l–o–w–l–y and yours truly has Internetitis that began suddenly this summer. (It’s happened before). I am antsy behind the screen and want to finish quickly and get on with things.

In Paris, with all the downtrodden faces and ladies who dejeuner clinging to their well-tailored coats, it was easy to fall back in love with the online world, updating and uploading and sprucing up my online life (hence the sparkling new Girl on the street home replete with video).

But since I’ve been facing the majestic ocean (facing NY from the Atlantic shores of France), I haven’t been much in the mood for uploading, or downloading, or browsing, or searching, least of all doing any online enterprising. My own personal writing is filled with “Look Up” and “Research Laters” and I have to say, it’s amazingly productive to leave these things undone.

I lately read novels the way I downloaded iTunes TV shows when I first arrived in Paris in winter. I write with a pen, I read from paper, and I draw every day. Colored pencils and carbon pencils, a touch of sea water or Evian from the spray can to make it aquarelle. Always of people, usually at the seaside, and my rule is they have to be there in the flesh. When they leave, they leave. I get what I can. I capture life. Life lived and breathed, belly out, nipples to the left and right on an 85 year old. Cuddling or napping teenagers. Friends chatting and having a Pastis or a pression. Toes digging in the sand or curled one on top of another on a boardwalk chaise.

I capture life and not the Eskimo kisses of circuits rubbing together on austere motherboards. With the drawing, I’m not ready to quit the day job (what day job?) but I’m not half bad either. I find it’s like my old stealth trend snapshots, heart racing, trying to get that last gesture in before I’m caught, but the material both in my tin pencil case and and my subjects are broader and more challenging.

None of that matters when I say, I’m proud of this latest success story, which came naturally, I’m sure, and not with a lot of planners and strategists second guessing the market and planting clever traps in women’s paths. I’m sure it happened through community and kismet. Of course, she’ll need planners and strategists if it grows to outsized proportions so the story can continue and sustain and that will be where people who do what I do, professionally, step in to make the unselfconscious conscious.

I haven’t read this article yet myself but I got the gist so without further ado, here is her wildfire idea, another one that leaves the corporate suits scratching at their blown out dos…

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Links

Hi, it’s May 29th and I just returned from Berlin last night. I’m still stirring the pot so-to-speak but here are a few links that embody the core of my interests.

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