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The latency of culture is a function of the speed of information. Culture can’t change until new information has propagated and this used to take a long time.

When letters took weeks to arrive, that defined the threshold of assumed response. Now, thanks to Twitter, the latency of culture has decreased to almost nothing, as everyone shares news as soon as it might be true. The news media feels it needs to move in step, so it makes mistakes, as we were shown during the Boston bombings. Speed is as important as content, evidenced in the Oreo SuperBowl blackout tweet that went around the world.

Science fiction of the near future, from visionaries like William Gibson, collapsed into alternative versions of now, as we try to decode the increasingly weird present. Kevin Kelly calls this the missing near future.

No-one is laying out plans for how we are to move forward, and so, as an industry, we recycle the oldest idea in advertising – branded content.

Futurology is not about prediction, it’s about mapping possible pathways.

Without it, as Rushkoff suggests in Present Shock, planning gives way to ‘Apocalypto’, the hoping for an end of the ever decreasing circles of now, evinced by the endless, tiring, uses of the ‘death of’ narrative.

The death of the 30-second spot, of strategy, of traditional, of digital, or media.

All are, basically, saying “We give up!”. We can’t find our way to the future and so, like all end-of-days nonsense, it means people give up on trying to find functional solutions for the problems and opportunities of the present.

Perhaps, then, we need to start thinking about the future again and start living up to the promises we made to ourselves and to the industry back when the web was born and manifestos were being made. 

Marketing that was useful and beautiful, transparency of people and action that social media can deliver and distribute. Awesomeness created at the intersection of art, copy, Arduino and code,that can come about when we all learn to respect each other, department, silo, agency, client, and start working for the good of the industry and each other, as well as the bottom line.

The browser-based world wide web turned 20 this year. It’s finally ready.

Let’s start mapping out a future for our industry that doesn’t assume declining relevance and margins, but instead lets us help clients create value and make the world we live in, and the industry we work in, a nicer place.

– “The future isn’t what it used to be” – @faris

http://www.bandt.com.au/news/innovation/the-future-isn-t-what-it-used-to-be

 

//  What if we’re temporarily walking within the Terminator Line (the illuminated day side and the dark night side of a planetary body) between the current generation of advertising/marketing folks who are 25-45 and the next-next generation who haven’t lived anywhere else besides the paradoxically small-town of Zero-latency Culture? 

One group unknowingly walks anti-rotation. Essentially, relatively, sprinting towards the old way, and are rapidly left behind as the future Doppler zooms ahead like the Jetsons car sound.

Others (our youth, for instance, or others, who never really ‘grew up’ and loop iteratively in small eddies of awareness adolescence like a transmigration of the teen soul) are living their lives, floating with the current, barely aware that the sun is at its brightest point in the sky of recent memory and their latent optimism can’t help but drive them to awesomeness. 

How do we solve that problem? Maybe we don’t. Or shouldn’t. One group is left behind. They don’t know any better, they’re unaware. That’s life. The other, continues forward. And… that’s OK. Let’s help them go even faster, with purpose. We invest in their progress. Guide gently. Shove firmly. All the while being open to discovery ourselves. Specially when the Snapchats, the Twitterz and the Tumblrz come to life and we’re caught flat-footed. Scratching heads in paroxysms of surprise and delight. Stoked to witness the future arriving. At peace with our fears and insecurities.

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“…clever people know that you don’t learn by inserting yourself. If you are inspired by the world, and open to it, it is sometimes essential to utilize your own innocence, your own lack of an ability to interpret or judge others, in order to read them properly.”

– Rachel Kushner, describing Reno, in “The Flamethrowers”

 

My narrator, who speaks in the first person, is not intent on thinking about her past. To relate to her, a reader doesn’t need to know much about her childhood beyond a few key details (she was a tomboy who rode motorcycles, is from a small Western town, is working class but educated). Early in the novel, the narrator recounts how she was hired to be a China girl. She got a job in a film lab on the Bowery, and the technicians needed photographs of a woman’s face in order to process film so that the flesh tones were consistent and looked appropriately like skin (white skin, that is—flesh calibrations in the movie industry have always been aimed at Caucasian skin). Around the time I started working on this novel, I had become interested in the China girl you see on old film leaders (up through the nineteen-eighties). She holds up a Kodak color bar, or a photograph of her is placed next to a Kodak color bar. I knew these women were mostly secretaries in the film labs, which seemed to me to be central to their allure. The idea that they are just random women asked to pose, and not professional models, makes them mysterious. They are “real” people who come to function as archetypes; they are anonymous-real. There is no way to find out who they are and no reason to, either. The idea of a girl posing on film seems to encapsulate something about how women are treated, and how they think of themselves: women are often judging themselves, and being judged, according to standards of beauty and femininity. Archetypes of what women look like are basically inescapable: women either conform to them, refuse to conform to them, or set them. They don’t ever escape completely from the realm of standards.

Reno begins the book moving east, racing a bike, trying to complete a project. Then she shifts and begins to slow down and watch, like a passive observer, or like a camera, witnessing conflicts where she only intermittently takes sides. How did you think about Reno’s agency as you wrote this?

It’s true that she’s much more strong and active in the long opening scene, when she goes to the salt flats alone. She knows the landscape and she knows motorcycles, so it’s a world where she’s comfortable. In the art scene in downtown New York, she’s an outsider, not yet an initiate. And, in my humble opinion, she’s also clever: clever people know that you don’t learn by inserting yourself. If you are inspired by the world, and open to it, it is sometimes essential to utilize your own innocence, your own lack of an ability to interpret or judge others, in order to read them properly.

In regard to agency, I was determined not to have the narrator ride off into the horizon in a blaze of triumph at the end. The plotline where the main character overcomes a weakness and acts with new empowerment is a form of narrative compression I usually find cheap and don’t much relate to. In any case, to have all the agency can be tragic. I love the end of the 1969 movie “Downhill Racer,” where Robert Redford gets the gold medal and yet winning seems like this empty question mark. I wanted my narrator to arrive at some kind of open moment, a blank, in whiteness—figuratively and actually—in snow, at the bottom of Mont Blanc, a setting that for me has a poetic resonance (Wordsworth, Shelley), and a personal resonance, too (an entire childhood spend skiing alone, dealing with cold, blizzards, high winds). I have learned a lot waiting for people who don’t show. It’s about what you do in that situation: I mean, what you do next.

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Among the inevitable copycats and also-rans, Tokyo is positively overflowing with exciting, well-made niche labels that are competitively priced and persuasively merchandised. They may be ripe for the picking but unless you have a talented and well-connected ‘madoguchi’ (‘point person’) at your disposal, your chances of doing business with them are slim at best. And even then, any number of obstacles can conspire against would-be exporters.

In Japanese business culture, the ‘madoguchi’ (literally, ‘window opening’) was traditionally someone who sat as the designated contact person funnelling all dialogue between two companies. Over time, it has also come to refer to a host of independent specialists who – to varying degrees – act as scout, market researcher, mediator, cultural ambassador, interpreter and deal broker between Japanese and international markets. As in most other sectors, they are usually bicultural and bilingual but ‘fashion hunters’, as they’re sometimes playfully cast in our industry, are an especially diverse, valuable and enigmatic bunch.

“There are so many Japanese brands at the moment. They come and go, so it may be difficult to understand what’s relevant and what’s not, if your ‘madoguchi’ isn’t based here in Tokyo,” says Hidetaka Furuya, chief editor of The Fashion Post, a rare online source of fashion and lifestyle news published both in English and Japanese.

Furuya himself has operated as a ‘madoguchi’ – or “Japanese ambassador” as he prefers to call it – for LN-CC, an East London concept store which has since become one of the few places outside Japan to buy cult labels like SASQUATCHfabrix, Blackmeans, Nonnative, Unused and Sunsea.

“The thing is, I sometimes get the impression that Tokyo streetwear brands are consciously trying to be less visible on the scene [while others ] are not as visible as they should be because they’re shy, anti-mainstream or too-cool-for-school,” he continues. “Their attitude kind of reminds me of this Japanese proverb that means ‘a skilled hawk hides its talons.’ They often say they’re just making what they want to wear, producing really well-made things in Japan. They present their collections when they are ready; not during the Japan Fashion Week period. However, all this makes it difficult for foreign buyers to visit Tokyo to buy good Japanese labels.”

Tokyo-based Martin Webb, director of marketing and communications at Marc Jacobs Japan, understands well the complex role that ‘madoguchis’ play in the fashion industry. ”It’s very difficult to turn mediatory, introductory jobs like this into a steady source of income, so I think most people in [the ‘madoguchi’] category are moonlighting or multi-tasking in one way or another. But when brands reach a certain level of resources, they tend to hire a bicultural person to handle overseas relations. Sacai has Daisuke Gemma who also works for Lane Crawford; Mastermind Japan has Etsuko Meaux, and so on. Recently, I think Lubo Lakic from Lakic Showroom has a great grip on the scene and especially for the kind of brands that overseas retailers are most interested in.”

While in previous positions as fashion editor of The Japan Times and as publicist for PR firm WAG, Webb also often found himself called upon for informal advice and ad-hoc matchmaking for industry peers abroad. Thanks to Webb’s and others’ ‘friendly introductions’, now-famous Japanese brand names like N. Hoolywood and John Lawrence Sullivan first began to gain an international following.

Nicole Bargwanna, like Webb, is one of only a few truly fluent Japanese-speakers working extensively in the fashion industry. As a result, she has also contributed in similar ways over the years. More recently, a younger generation of Japanese PR professionals including Yoshiko Edström (Edström Office) and Tatsuya Takahashi (Dune) have returned to Japan after working abroad and assumed the role of ‘madoguchi’ in addition to their main activities.

“Because Japan is so impenetrable, it is very important to gain the trust of the people you will be working with. In order to survive long-term here, you have to show you know your stuff, that you’re serious, that you’re here for the long stretch, and are willing to put yourself 100 percent behind whatever it is you’re endorsing,” says Bargwanna, a serial entrepreneur who, after building an import showroom business, opened her PR agency CPR Tokyo four years ago.

In the decades before the arrival of Bargwanna and Webb, there were a handful of cosmopolitan trailblazers who championed their favourite Japanese brands by connecting them internationally in one way or another. From Tokyo, Comme des Garçons’ CEO Adrian Joffe and United Arrows’ co-founder Hirofumi Kurino did their part. Meanwhile, the distributor Stella Ishii of New York-based showroom The News and media coordinators like Mina Wakatsuki in London and Yuko Arakawa in New York joined then upstart stylists Kanako B. Koga in Paris and Nicola Formichetti who worked with Yuko Yabiku for the now defunct but groundbreaking London retailer The Pineal Eye. 

Among this pioneering group with valuable local access and insight was Tiffany Godoy. Since 1997 Godoy has carved out an impressive place for herself in Tokyo as editor, consultant, TV personality and author of two books on Japanese street fashion and subcultures. Today, she is one half of Japanese fashion entertainment branding duo Erotyka and chief editor of The Reality Show Magazine.

“One reason we haven’t seen a lot more womenswear brands break the international market is that the feminine ideal is so different here. Also, today’s Japanese designers aren’t pumping out the sort of complicated, intellectual, shocking clothing that fashion critics abroad got used to looking for from Japan,” says Godoy.

Putting aside the outsider’s perennial challenges in Japan – such as its exceptionally puzzling business culture and the constant threat of misunderstanding from a population with shockingly low levels of English language abilities – there are many serious operational barriers too.

“It’s true that most brands still don’t have English-speaking staff and won’t try to hire a translator for your appointment unless you’re a buyer from a super famous store. And I hear some use Google Translate to reply to emails,” says Furuya. “But I know of more tragic stories [around other issues].

For most domestic brands to transition into international business, they would need create a new sample collection and at least double the number of production sizes on offer from the narrow range which fit the majority of Japanese consumers. Not to mention the fact that domestic manufacturing cycles and seasons still aren’t completely in-sync with international standards and that marketing to non-Japanese would require a serious cultural leap of faith. Together, this all adds up to substantial long-term investment.

Yet the same issues which have kept many of Japan’s highly covetable fashion brands off the international market for so long also go a long way toward explaining why they represent a trump card for many international retailers looking for a point of differentiation in an increasingly homogenized marketplace. And why many are willing to invest hiring Japanese-speaking market experts and spending more than their competitors by adding an extra buying trip to Tokyo at the end of the long season in Europe.

“[Hong Kong’s] I.T. pretty much built their business on Japanese brands – especially A-net brands. They invested in a team to do intensive research and tough negotiations for exclusivity with Tokyo brands and that gave them a huge advantage over their competitors,” says Webb. “And I’d say Lorenzo Hadar of H. Lorenzo in LA is worthy of ‘legend’ status as his stores have been the first overseas retailers to buy many Japanese brands and without his investment many smaller labels might never have even bothered to enter the export business. Amazingly, he’s still at the bleeding edge of the scene visiting Japan more frequently than any other buyer I know and is very patient with designers who aren’t used to dealing with overseas clients.”

Bargwanna believes that more retailers like this are now braving the opaque market in order to penetrate what many still consider to be an insular domestic fashion industry.

“There are quite a few of them [now] coming to Japan Fashion Week buying underground Japanese brands. Most of them have someone on the ground to scout them out and communicate for them, or someone in the team who speaks Japanese. I think it would be near impossible without one or the other,” she says.

Akiko Shinoda, director of international affairs for Japan Fashion Week suggests that this is a sign of positive changes at the organisation which has long been blamed for being too old-fashioned, bureaucratic and inefficient – holding back the very Japanese brands they were supposed to be promoting. Or as one scathing insider puts it, “an office full of out-of-touch bureaucrats in boring grey suits.”

“In response to not being modern, maybe that was sometimes the case 4 or 5 years ago but not anymore as I see it. We have many recent success stories of selling abroad. Some brands are gradually becoming more used to overseas business and others that were once satisfied with operating only in Japan because of the country’s big market size now realise they have to look abroad for growth,” she says.

Godoy believes that although such institutions have their place and that the old infrastructure around the ‘madoguchi’ system is still highly influential, they are beginning to wane slightly in the digital age.

“There are countless [Japanese brands to discover] that are being pumped out through street style images by foreign trend agency sites and domestic fashion sites that end up appealing to an international audience,” she says. “Since we’re now living in a world driven more by visual content, I don’t believe being bilingual is such an important factor as it once was.”

Nevertheless, centuries of tradition don’t disappear in a digital instant. Furuya believes that, “the right ‘madoguchi’ by which I mean someone honest, unbiased and trustworthy,” can in certain cases make or break a deal.

“‘Shoukai’ [‘introductions’] is an extremely important concept in Japan and many business interactions in Japan are based around it. This makes the presence of a ‘madoguchi’ even more important.”

//    Thankful [in an embarassingly teen-like secret hoarding flush of emotion] that the large, predatory retailers won’t yet exploit the tiny labels that we love: [more] expensive, [higher] quality materials, [mostly] small runs and, best of all, unknown = the antithesis of disposable fast-fashion. They will copy but the aesthetic doesn’t map so well to American shoppers.

Related, and working in our favour, is the innate tendencies of VC’s to overcapitalize and force unnatural, unsupported expansion of fashion companies. How often do you find yourself giving thanks to greed? //

“We live in a world where we are never satisfied unless we become the next Google. Why can’t we be satisfied with creating something incredibly beautiful that connects with its customers in a way that enriches their lives and generates a great return for everyone involved?

That’s probably a question better saved for a long discussion after a couple of cocktails, but it strikes at how potentially great companies are being ruined by not understanding their market, ignoring the revenue curve that is inherent to the market they have chosen and creating an unsustainable operating cost structure that results in disaster for everyone rather than the certain victory it would have been otherwise.

Rather than understanding that the revenue curve begins to flatten as it approaches its maximum market size, we assume it can scale forever. We build an expense structure to support this theoretically multi-billion dollar business and we raise a ton of money to fund it. But no matter how much money we spend, sales will not grow enough to support this more ‘modest’ sized (at least relative to our wide-eyed expectations) business. It will collapse, founders will leave or be fired, there will be an employee exodus and investors will lose a lot of money. Same company, two different outcomes because we only recognised the opportunity presented by the Internet, not the constraints.”

http://www.businessoffashion.com/2013/05/op-ed-why-are-we-ruining-our-best-young-fashion-companies.html

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“Can the best talent ultimately be retained within large legacy institutions, or post acquisition in a culture and vision they did not sign up for or post acqui-hire at a tech giant where they may work on only one product? Will the shift towards digital product as the leading edge make the focused product players the most appealing proposition for the best talent and fuel opportunity? Again, the next few years will answer these questions.”

 “ …the opportunity to become truly great is about more than just financial reward. It’s about the chance to become a recognised design leader and partner to the brands whose digital products and services shape our world. It’s about the experiences and opportunities presented, which cannot be bought. The one shot you might be lucky enough to have at all this is however all too easily sold.”

The “real” opportunity [?]

The discussion so far has centered around the agency/client model for digital product design, where one is paid for services rendered. This work can be truly inspiring and provides the opportunity to help define experiences for millions of people through client’s products. Where do you go from there? A proven track record in digital product will allow you to extend the traditional model by negotiating alternative commercial terms with companies, for example leveraging expertise for equity payment or under a JV arrangement. However, if you have that capability and spend the next three years only working for clients, you will have missed a far greater trick.

Real success in this area creates a far greater opportunity, which is to fundamentally reshape the the studio model. It has never been easier to build and distribute and market a digital product and those with a capability in digital product design who have been successful in delivering for clients, can and should aim to build capacity to explore their own digital product initiatives. Success here will generate passive revenue streams from the licensing or selling of a digital product or service as well the opportunity to augment the unscalable client service model. That in turn opens up remuneration models for the people that made it all happen which others cannot come close to.

The future, truly great digital product design company will have a stellar client service division, be running successful own product initiatives and will have equity stakes in select ventures where their skills can be leveraged best. Lots of legs on the table and one hell of an adventure.

Over the next few years there’s everything to play for. It’s game on.

http://www.mobileinc.co.uk/2013/05/how-when-and-where-will-the-first-truly-great-digital-design-studio-emerge/

 


/ I have no idea how to credit the little girl in the top image. It was a chilly, grey Saturday night in The Tenderloin. Very early in the evening. Only the geriatrics were eating at restaurants. Similar pattern happening at the gallery opening (dunno if this is a San Francisco thing.) The glitter car is a leftover piece being offered for free by the gallery to anyone able and willing to take it away. She was asked to pose and immediately jacked up and started Vogueing, bless her little heart.

There’s an allegory there somewhere…

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The problem we all face is “The physical fallacy”. All of us, even those [in] the social sciences, have an innate bias where we are happier fixing problems with stuff, rather than with psychological solutions – building faster trains rather than putting wifi on existing trains, to use my oft cited example.

But as Benjamin Franklin (no mean decision scientist himself) remarked “There are two ways of being happy: We must either diminish our wants or augment our means – either may do. The result is the same and it is for each man to decide for himself and to do that which happens to be easier.”

There is no reason to prefer one solution over another simply because it involves solid matter rather than grey matter. This is an interesting area where the advertising industry and the environmental movement (rarely seen as natural bedfellows) sometimes find common ground. Intangible value is the best kind of value – since the materials needed to create it are not in short supply.

http://www.farnamstreetblog.com/2013/03/decision-making-psychology-with-rory-sutherland/

// There is a third way: embrace your wants while augmenting your means. Ben lived in a pre-Kobayashi Maru world.

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[Amazon] keeps a running list of the most highlighted Kindle passages of all time. 

Instead of a cozy tete-a-tete with the idiosyncratic mind of a stranger, you get the reading equivalent of a giant rave, a warehouse pulsing with usually private emotions turned into shared public expressions. It’s a glimpse into our collective, most interior, and most embarrassing preoccupations. 

The most immediately noticeable thing about the list is how Hunger Games-heavy it is. Nineteen of the top 25 most-highlighted passages are written by Suzanne Collins, who is not exactly known for a glittering prose style. That breakdown would suggest that Americans are mostly obsessed with teenagers and dystopias, which, while not entirely untrue, is also useful reminder that this is a numbers game. Bestsellers will naturally have the greatest number of underlines, and there are certain kinds of bestsellers that are more likely to be read digitally. These include books aimed at teenagers that a massive number of adults have embraced (potentially embarrassing), books in the public domain (free), and self-help books (potentially embarrassing). Taken together, they suggest that your average Kindle reader is a creature caught in permanent adolescence, but yearning to improve. Oh, and he’s cheap. 

On the young-adult front, some of the most-liked Hunger Games lines don’t have much resonance beyond the tales themselves—descriptions of places and events in the novels. I can’t explain why a critical mass of Americans were intensely interested in the sentence “‘I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you,’” Peeta replies.” (Actually, I can explain, but Team Peeta is a whole different essay.) Other passages, though, are more obvious candidates for underlining. After all, the thing that makes you pick up the pen is something that you recognize from your own life, or that makes you recognize something about your own life. 

The most-noted line on all of Amazon is from the Hunger Games: Catching Fire, and it reads like something from the prologue to a self-help book: “Because sometimes things happen to people and they’re not equipped to deal with them.” The Eeyore-ish affirmation is echoed by No. 4 on the list, another Collins special. “It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.” In terms of existential despair, however, those are topped by No. 12 on the list, also from the trilogy. “We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction.”

The bleakness of the worldview suggested by those passages is striking. It’s no surprise then, to find self-help passages appearing alongside them: They help us cope with our inherently flawed human selves. Stephen Covey’s The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People appears several times—“It’s not what happens to us, but our response to what happens to us that hurts us”—as does Dale Carnegie’s How To Win Friends and Influence People. Quotes about the healing power of God also make a strong showing, as do musings on the nature of marriage, and work, and leadership, and white carbohydrates.

http://www.newrepublic.com/article/113263/kindles-most-highlighted-passages-and-soul-american-reader#

// It’s good to be reminded of our youth. And not just when acquisitions like tumblr happen.  

The snarkiness of these furtive, over-the-shoulder quantitative glances at the assumed collective of pre-teens/teens/proto-millenials is disappointing.  What’s wrong with longing, uncertainty, despair, unrequited feelings, affirmations, hope…?  Subtract emotion and life’s equation reduces to zero every single time. 

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“Who knew what objects would be required for any act of sorcery? It was, by its very definition, an irrational art. Many sorcerers were magpies, since one could not tell what physical item – if any – would be required for a Work.”

Replace sorcery -> creativity.

Sorcerers -> designers.

Or on bright, first-day-of-spring kinds of days, sorcerers -> artists.

Objects -> ideas.

Our profession is ever an act of improvisation – sometimes rushed, sometimes languorous rehearsals (with our creative teams) and performance theater (with our clients, and, eventually our customers/users).

So if gathering ideas and saving them for use in ideally unexpected future uses, defines me as magpie, then wings spread without conscious thought, flicking in anticipation for the joy of collecting.

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“It is so much easier to take pictures in a place that is strange. You are relieved of the burden of knowing anything, of having to distinguish between the obvious and the intimate.There is an openness in which you discover yourself and where you imaginatively are. That sense of discovery…”

 

Corollary: I love eating in restaurants where I don’t understand the language(s) being spoken around me. Conversations are soothing radiators of warm, comforting human companionship – absent the high-frequency buzzing irritant of everyday complaints, banal observations and uncomfortable glimpses into screeching, sadness and boredom.

I’m secretly hoping for a future Google Glass plug-in that performs real-time language translation from English to any dialect of my choosing (that I don’t understand, of course).

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The Importance of Arts Integration on Deep Learning

When I was a student at Butler University I had a psychology professor named Dr. Neil Bohannan. While Dr. Bohannon and I did not see eye to eye on many things, I readily admit that I learned quite a bit from the man. One of the phrases that struck me, and I recall it often (because I utilize it often), is “Learning = a change in behavior based upon acquired knowledge.” This equation, if you will, suggests two things; first – in order to learn anything, one’s behavior must change.  An example of this behavioral change might be: We studied the United States Constitution in History Class: I decided to vote, because I recognize voting as a right that is given through the Constitution. (Was it Mark Twain who said, “A man who doesn’t read good books has no advantage over a man who can’t read them.”?)

The second tenet is that behavior will change based on the assimilation of acquired knowledge. The input is the knowledge, but the output will manifest learning through the exhibition of an assimilation. In essence, there must be prior knowledge that sets the original behavior. Synthesizing my first example: perhaps I understood voting, or voted prior to my study, but due to my study I will now vote a certain way. Perhaps I will join a political party? This is a behavioral action taken due to my increased knowledge utilizing my prior knowledge – thus – I learned.

Let me break this down into a simple – yet profound example, so it’s easy to understand…

My daughter was 7 at the time. She and her mother were making cookies. I was drinking coffee and grading papers at the kitchen table. The ladies had melted chocolate in a pan on the stove top. My wife took the melted chocolate and turned to the sink to pour it into a mixing bowl. She told my daughter, “Don’t touch anything.” My daughter looked at the red hot coils on the stove top. I noticed her staring at them. Then she did something insane… she reached out and touched them. Now, my daughter – even at 7 – was a smart girl. For her to do something so inane was unfathomable, but she did it. I quickly grabbed the entire ice tray from the freezer and stuffed her hand in it while my wife called the pediatrician. “Why did you do that?” I asked her. “I don’t know?” she answered, with tears in her eyes. 2nd degree burns. A beautiful coil singed on my little girl’s hand. It’s still there to this day.

Following the ordeal I thought about why my daughter would do something so ridiculous, and what my daughter learned. Obviously, she learned not to touch a hot stove. To a degree she learned how to treat burns. We had a follow up discussion on listening to mom and dad. She knew the stove was hot. She could feel the heat. She could see the red coils. Her mother had given her a verbal directive saying, “Don’t touch anything.” And yet KNOWING that, she still touched it… So the question becomes: WHY? Did she really know that the coil was hot? Surely, she did.  What does it mean to know something? Can you know something without experiencing it?

Let me give another example:

I know my sums in math. I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide – but I don’t know how to utilize math, like the guy in that show Numb3rs. I can’t function with math. I can’t use it in my life to do much more than make sure the person making change at the cash register is correct. According to Dr. Bohannon’s theory – in the purest sense – I did not really LEARN math in school. It does not affect my behavior and I have a limited knowledge from which to acquire utility where mathematics are concerned.

By contrast… I can write music. I can create music. I can manipulate music. I choose music to listen too based on my mood. I can communicate feelings and emotions with music. I can help other people appreciate, analyze, create, and synthesize music. I hear music in my head at all times. I dream about music. I think in song patterns and sound waves. I hear lyrics when I’m in certain situations. I can connect my own behaviors and the behaviors of others to songs. I can hear colors and see palettes in music. I type in rhythms. I walk with a beat that changes according to my motion. I am a marionette of the Muse. I have learned music. I live it. I breathe it. I think with it. I think about it. I love it. 

See the difference?

Two things should come to your mind. The first is that I did not like mathematics, but I love music. The second is that mathematics and music have deep connections. Since math and music hold such deep connections, why did I not also develop a love for math? That’s an excellent thought. The difference may lie in what I love most about music… A person does not have to understand music to create it.

It’s true that music has a form and order to it. I can show that order in the chord structures. There are seven tones in a scale. Utilizing those tones we can build seven chords. Each of those chords can be manipulated into major, minor, half, and fully diminished chords. Also, the chords can be stacked with additional tones to create new chords. Additionally, music has functionality. Each chord works in an orbit around what we call the “tonic” or home-base chord. I did not learn any of this until I was in college, yet I was playing professional gigs through high school. Not fully understanding music did not hinder my creation of music, and my desire to perform it fueled my practice of it. 

Because of this universal understanding in music – and, really, all of the arts – they become approachable, meaning students can see themselves utilizing the art. Not everyone acts well, but most people are comfortable acting. The confidence in their ability elicits practice, and the practice elicits better acting skills that can then become refined into even better skills. Because of this principle, the arts can be utilized to create learning experiences in your classroom. These experiences give us a measurement – place, time, sequence of events in order, that students can set their learning anchors on. The experiences will also add to the student’s knowledge base. Once the knowledge base is assimilated, they will remember and adapt their behavior based on this newly acquired knowledge.

They will learn.

Do I have proof of this? Yes. Sarah and I have a student, let’s call him John. John is completely unmotivated. John’s parents have stated that John shouldn’t have to do anything that he’s uncomfortable with (including graduate, evidently?). I had all but given up on John, but during our Midsummer Night’s Dream project, while we were reading through the play, Sarah and I decided to have the students get up and tableaux the scenes to help them understand what was going on. John did not read aloud, but he did participate in a scene or two. After that, I noticed that John was paying attention. When the project ended we had the students debrief, which is a norm for our classes. On the debrief John said, “I din’t think midsummer d be cool, but we got to act it out. that was cool.” (sic) Did John understand the content? Yes. Would he have understood it if he had not seen it? No. That much is very clear. When did John begin to become involved? During the tableaux. I can give you the date and the time. What will he retain from Midsummer10 years from now? We will see, but my moneys on the tableaux of Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Dr. Bohannon was right. The question is: How do core-curriculum (traditional academic) classes utilize aesthetic experiences to create these learning anchors? I think the answer lies fully and completely in the curriculum that creates aesthetic experience: the Arts. Arts integration, by being approachable and creating experiences for learning, is the key. 

– Nate Foley
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And, from the Atlantic: 

The conflict between career ambition and relationships lies at the heart of many of our current cultural debates… 

Relationships Are More Important Than Ambition (?) http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2013/04/relationships-are-more-important-than-ambition/275025/

HT @anxiaostudio  http://bit.ly/12uToKN