ideas : People : stories.
the Human Being stuff
In his work, literature becomes a tool that articulates situations, places and objects where each piece is full of theoretical meanings related to one another.
“Jorge Méndez Blake is a Mexican born artist that draws connections between literature and the visual arts through assemblage, drawing, and environmental interventions” (via).
He is also a man who would rather quote another than create something new, which I find truly intriguing.
My wife sent me this photo on the same morning I listened to this podcast, Do Meaningful Work and Change the World with Adam Braun, "the CEO & Co-Founder of MissionU, a debt-free college alternative for the 21st century that CNN called 'perfect for young people who are eager to launch their career'" (via), and I truly enjoyed it.
One of the more inspiring, or challenging, portions of the podcast came at near the 30 minute mark. It's his last interview question to anyone wanting to work for him and his ideas. The question is, "What do you consider to be your single greatest success that is unrelated to your career or your family?"
I asked this question to a few friends of mine and, as intended, it engaged us in a lengthy personal conversation about life. Mainly because we disagreed with the question, "There isn't time or energy for much work outside of my career and family!" And maybe that's okay, because the point of the question is to get to know someone, beyond the job, and find their deeper purpose, their deeper self - not what they did. Because it gets to the question of character.
So when we struggle to find an answer outside of teaching or parenting or husbanding, that's okay, because we're not bragging about what we've done - our simple accomplishments - but the moments of growth, of inspiration, and of where we've been able to see where our work, our ideas, and our presence has been able to change the world.
"The moment I heard the opening thump of bass…I knew I would be using this song for my film. But then those haunting vocals hit my ears…and blew my mind. It was like a punch deep in my soul. It’s hard to explain that feeling when you first hear a song and you immediately fall in love with it" (via).
Mike Olbinksi is a storm chaser, photographer, and an overall pretty amazing artist who has inspired me more than once. And his latest work, Breath, a storm time-lapse film in black and white, is no exception.
"About halfway through editing," Olbinski writes, "I knew the song title would be my film title as well. It was so perfect I couldn’t believe it. Sometimes for me…when I’m chasing or watching an amazing storm…I’ll realize I haven’t taken a breath in awhile. Never really thought of it until I heard this song."
As you may have noticed, for the past month or so, I've stopped writing (more thoughts on that to come). It started consciously in December because I wanted to truly enjoy and unplug over the break. I was supposed to break the fast on New Year's Eve, but couldn't because, like Olbinksi (only opposite), I've been unable to breath. So I took another two-week gulp of air and planned on perhaps another six.
But then I came across Olbinski: "I hadn’t even planned to start working on this film yet," he continues, "but I was so inspired that I furiously began to lay down time-lapse clips. I couldn’t stop pouring over it. It was last September and I was supposed to be working on Monsoon IV, but I forgot all about it once I heard Ex Makina’s “Breathe.” It almost felt like it was made for a black and white storm film."
Inspiration inspires inspiration, furious creativity, and moments of intense clarity where we forget meetings, deadlines, lunch, even to breath. And I love that. Because that means it comes from somewhere outside ourselves, and because when it hits, we have to saturate ourselves in it, envelope it, and then, get it out.
Like filmmaking.
Like writing.
And that's inspiring. Beautiful. "Like a punch deep in my soul." Which I desperately needed.
Thank you, Mike Olbinski!
For more on . . .
If you're in a corner, or in a box, it's not because somebody put you there, it's because you've agreed to be in that box.
I stay outside. Because that's where the people are.
When I first watched this, I thought of my classroom and getting out in the hallways to be with the kids as they pass and walk by. Because even though I want to stay in my room, out in the hall is where the people are. And they want high fives, waves, fist bumps, and sometimes even hugs.
Then, while getting a Fat Tire from the frig, I thought of other boxes, bigger boxes, and more restrictive boxes. Boxes of religion, family, and politics.
But mainly religion.
Maybe yours is something else.
Whatever it is, we've both agreed to be in that box. Isolated, Insulated. And safe.
Because stepping out is entering into the unknown, and to where the people are. People who think different, look different, act different, and are different. Like kids in the hallways.
In the hallways, I lose much of my control and influence. I'm no longer the centerpiece but an outside observer. In the hallways, kids curse, make out, swap cigarettes, and fight, and I stand on the sideline, unable to do much of anything but correct what I can and say hello to those who pass.
Sometimes though, kids want a high five, fist bump, or short conversation.
And somehow, when it happens, in the hallway, on their turf, it seems a bit more genuine because truly, they don't have to say a damn thing. They can walk by, cursing under their breath (which some do, no doubt) or ignore me completely. But they don't - not all of them anyway. They wave, smile, and sometimes stand with me and talk. And I love it because, often times, I learn things about them that the classroom can't teach.
Like the student whose father was just arrested for dealing meth. Or the one who's having surgery on Thanksgiving day because she might have breast cancer.
Sometimes though, they don't say a thing. They just high five, fist pump, or nod. And when it comes from the kid that I get on every single day to do some work, to turn something in and stop dropping F-bombs in my class, well, that too means a lot to me.
And after watching this short clip, I began to wonder what would happen if I stepped out of other boxes, engaged and mingled with other people, different people, and started talking and listening and learning from them? Where would that take me? Take us?
Probably to where the people are.
Which is just where I want to be.
For more on . . .
-N- Stuff : #eattogether : Humanity : A Heineken commercial that inspires more than a drink
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