The Curiosity Chronicles

Curious About…California Dreaming, II

It is important to establish a visual here before I go any further.

I am sitting in the living room of a rented houseboat in Sausalito, the Golden Gate Bridge and the San Francisco skyline sparkling in the background. The Airb’n’b world is new to me; you find yourself becoming fully immersed in someone else’s life in both a good and a bad way: in this case, I find myself at an aesthetic intersection that can best be described as “hippie-art-teacher-meets-Mad-Max” - dreamcatchers and dried flowers mingle with rusted metal whale sculptures and nautical detritus. It’s dusty and decayed, a dream that never quite caught for some, the promise of The Summer of Love that has long faded. I’m lucky in that I have traveled and lived in many parts of the world, but this is an experience I have been looking forward to having.

I say all of this because one of the main reasons I am here is that I am literally within walking distance of Mecca: The Record Plant, the famous Sausalito recording studio where much of “Rumours,” Fleetwood Mac’s seminal album, was recorded. For those unfamiliar, it is quite simply, one of the most significant pieces of music history: fueled by the conflict between the band members at the time, filled with raw emotion, tension and beauty. Band members Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham were working through a breakup, and fellow members John and Christine McVie were in the middle of a divorce. This being the seventies, the whole experience was amplified by drugs, drink and sex. In the isis Productions documentary series “Classic Albums – Rumours” Stevie Nicks herself suggested that Fleetwood Mac “created the best music when in the worst shape,” while, according to Buckingham, “the tensions between band members informed the recording process” and led to “the whole being more than the sum of the parts.”

I bought Rumours in 1977 when it first came out, on vinyl, obviously. I played it on the tinkly, bulky stereo system that my sister handed down to me, on full volume when my parents went out, on enormous ear-splitting headphones when they were home. I was a nerdy not-yet-gay teenage boy in chilly, wooly northern England: Billy Elliot territory, harsh and unforgiving. Rumours immediately brought sun, light, soft fragrant breezes, emotional and intellectual harmony, a promise of a place I had never visited; truly bohemian, artistic, free. I was obsessed with it. The album had lyrics on its inner sleeve, which I memorized. When I first heard the deep rolling bassline of “Dreams,” I almost fainted: it felt distant, far away, like thunderclouds looming on the horizon, a feeling it still engenders in me today. I still know every word, every harmony.

I’m turning fifty this year, and one of the things I am enjoying about getting older is the ability to bring a memory from my past along with me on my journey, to allow it to age and mellow, as I have hopefully done. Music does that for me. Bringing Rumours back to its home in Sausalito feels completely appropriate, a homecoming of sorts for it, through me, and a rediscovery for me, through it. The Record Plant is sadly up for sale, the town is now decidedly middle class, but the vibe is still here, and true to the cliché, it is still in the woodwork, literally on the façade of the building, but also in the fabric of the entire Bay Area. In my work I talk a lot about the idea of design sitting at the intersection of optimism and pragmatism, and for me, this music, in this place, embodies a creative mindset that this part of the country embodies: sunny, believing in possibility, forward-looking. The California Dream. 

I now own Rumours, as I do with many treasured things, in multiple formats: the original vinyl, on various mixtapes, CD, and of course digital, but in getting ready for this trip I bought the Anniversary Issue complete with outtakes, stripped down versions and demos. In listening to it today, it is all still there, in fact more resonantly: the emotional rawness, the promise, the beauty. Now truly a part of me, it has become my California Dream too. 

And On Sundays We Rest. 

Curious Inspiration. Warning: this is not for the faint of heart and depicts death. But…why is death so frightening to us in the first place? What does it mean to say goodbye? Is it about making a painless departure? Or encasing the memories for those left behind?

AFTER CICELY explores the meaning of modern hospice and palliative care through the eyes of five inspiring women in Asia. This is a visual journal of how they pave final journeys with empathy, dedication and love. It is fearless and brave and most of all, life-affirming. Enjoy. 

Curious About…Unlocking Creativity.

IDEO founder David Kelley talks a lot about the notion of giving (and being given) the confidence to be creative, and together with his brother Tom, has a book coming out in the Fall on the topic of Creative Confidence. It inspired me to write this story about a pivotal experience in my own creative journey. 

Whitley Bay, England. October 1974.

I guess you could say I was a bit of a creepy kid. An outsider.

While all of the other normal middle-class boys were out playing football on the local public playing field, I was inside quietly weaving a macramé plant hanger for one of my mother’s many spider plants out of a ball of string. This was the seventies, and suburban plant hanging mattered then.

Whitley Bay is a small, well-to-do seaside town perched on the coastal outskirts of Newcastle, the North-East’s industrial hub: at the time, a center of coal, steel, shipbuilding, heavy industry. Billy Elliot stuff. Miners drank in local working men’s clubs after clocking-off from their shift, steelworkers and shipbuilders went into town on a Saturday night to get blindingly drunk and stare at strangers across the pub in order to pick a fight to take out their frustrations. Manly. Terrifying. Football is everything, and being good at it was important. I dreaded being picked for the school team and possessing the double-whammy of zero confidence and no hand-to-eye coordination, of course never was: five-a-side usually devolved into arguments as to which side would have to “get” me, the loser ending up with a straggler skipping about on the periphery terrified of the ball coming close. Add to this the fact that there was a “shirts and skins” policy, the skins having to do all of the above without a shirt on, pale and goose-bumped in the howling wind and lashing rain, and you can see why quietly sitting crocheting, an outsider hiding inside, wasn’t such a bad place to be.

It was all my father’s fault.

My dad was a bank manager in the biggest branch of the Midland Bank in Newcastle, a middle manager reveling in this newfound life of middle management. We had recently moved back to England from Singapore, where my father had been stationed: as squadron leader of a division of the Royal Air Force, we had lived an Ice Stormy, bucolic existence of verandas, swimming pools and sunshine, my parents playing canasta and drinking martinis in pitchers, smoking and laughing until the wee hours with their glamorous friends, friends with single-syllable names like Mac, Dolly and Stan. My mother was part of an all-wives performance troupe called The Aquastunt Girls, a synchronized swimming team that gave demonstrations in the Singapore Club swimming pool dressed in floral rubber swim caps and noseclips, a gaggle of laughing Esther Williams’ channelling suburban England in the tropics.

Whitley Bay was, to say the least, something of a culture shock.

We used to wait for my father to come home around six so that we could all have our evening meal together. My mother loved to channel our tropical upbringing in the then-heady new era of pre-packaged convenience food so it was not unusual to have boil-in-the-bag curry, crispy pancakes, lava-hot melted string cheese nestled inside a deep fried battered shell, or instant nasi-goreng from a packet. We would sit around and talk about our respective days and my parents, ever-supportive, made a huge effort to be interested in anything and everything I said, even if it consisted of wanting to make a weaving loom that weekend or go out and buy more felt.

The Golden Hands Encyclopedia of Crafts came out every Wednesday, and one day, without asking, my father showed up with it, presenting it with a gentle wink and a “I thought you might like this.” Advertised on TV with jaunty ads showing hippyish bearded types making macaroni wall hangings in their flared pants and deftly weaving raffia bread baskets sitting in their beanbag chairs, it came in 98 weekly issues, divided into seven white plastic binders which had to be ordered specially, to showcase your collection, presumably on your recycled wood crate shelving unit next to the nail-and-thread picture you had just lovingly hammered together. Every Thursday began a new set set of projects and inspirations: tie-dyeing one week, candlemaking the next. Familiar things such as knitting and weaving sat next to exotic new-fangled pursuits such as découpage and gem-cutting. It was a revelation, and I had found my calling: making stuff. I was obsessed with it, and my weekends became a craft-fest comprised of boiling rancid-smelling raw wax pellets, wrapping twigs from our garden in remnants of my mothers’ wool to make Guatamalan Evil-Eye wall-hangings, smothering bits of leaf and shell in liquid plastic to make paperweights, hand-rolling modeling clay into unfathomably heavy beads that were painted and varnished, and of course, the macramé plant hangers, of which several hung in the kitchen window, drooping spider plants peeking through the ill-aligned string and sagging under the weight of their hot-glued clay blobs.

Postcript:  May 2002

My father died in November of 2001 after a long and protracted battle with cancer, a virulent strain which left him paralyzed and bedridden, my mother looking after him. Stoic until the end and always a military man at heart, his firm behest was that I did not come see him incapacitated, he did not want me to see him “defeated.” At his funeral, a windy and solemn affair on the bluffs overlooking Whitley Bay, a barren concrete crematorium beckoned and a howling winter gale whipped us to the bone, a reminder of the days when I had to play football with no shirt on. I remember feeling numb, no tears were shed, it was efficient and quick. My mother simply said: “Au revoir my darling” as his coffin went behind the curtain, their lifetime romance over, for a while at least. I went home to America.

Back in California a few weeks later, I was browsing the internet and almost unconsciously Googled “Golden Hands Encyclopedia of Crafts,” expecting nothing to come up. I had thrown my set away years ago when I went to college, craft being replaced with anarchy, felt and string being overshadowed by punk and tartan. Immediately there was a link, to a lady in Albany, New York, who had a complete set of 98, still in their original binders. Without pausing I bought it at full price with no negotiation at whatever the cost: I think it was four hundred dollars.

A couple of weeks later there was a note from our local post office that I had a parcel. Distracted by the pressures of work, I forgot to pick it up for a couple of weeks, then remembered and went on a Saturday to collect it. Heavy and cumbersome, I struggled to get it up the path, so left it in the trunk of my car and there it stayed for a few more weeks. One night, I suddenly remembered it was there, and rushed downstairs and retrieved it from my car. Opening up the box, the first thing that hit me was the smell, the familiar scent of well-thumbed paper and worn plastic, the smell of my past and of everything that I had so badly wanted to be at the time, and had actually in large part become because of it, the craft magazines that helped me to craft my life. I opened the white binder, and there on the first page of the first issue was my father, smiling at me and jauntily walking up our road, every week, for 98 weeks.

I cried for the first time since he died: heavy, inconsolable sobs. I cried every day for weeks afterwards, and I am crying typing this.

PPS: I now own three entire sets of Golden Hands. One sits on my desk. One is on my bookshelf at home, and I have a third emergency set in case there is a catastrophe and the first two sets somehow disappear.

And On Sundays We Rest.

Curious Inspiration. Balletic, erotic, choreographed evolution. Limas Maximus, the leopard slug, has a very unusual and distinctive mating method, where a pair of slugs use a thick thread of mucus to hang suspended in the air from a tree branch or other structure. Perfect in its harmony, complex in its interaction, nature, as always, paves the way for incredible inspiration. Enjoy. 

And On Sundays We Rest.

Curious Inspiration. Japanese visual design WOW created ‘Bloom Skin’, a window installation for Issey Miyake’s 2012 spring/summer collection of ELTTOB TEP. Minimalist in concept and execution, the kinetic piece consists of eight computer-controlled fans that rhythmically  manipulate a single piece of hovering fabric. Linearly situated to run parallel to the front windows, the installation is an eye-catching sculpture that effectively communicates the identity of the new collection. The translucent stretch of textile is organdy, an ultra-light fabric that is used throughout the pieces. Simple and effortless, ‘Bloom Skin’ offers a dramatic and ever-changing backdrop to the shop. Enjoy. 

Guest Chronicle: Curious About…Curiosity.

This is the first of a series of guest chroniclers - selected thinkers, clients and friends - who I’ve asked to write about curiosity as it pertains to their world. Jim Brett is President of one of my favorite brands, West Elm, part of the Williams-Sonoma group. He is based in New York, and under he and his teams’ watch, the brand has experienced significant growth. 

In 19 years of retail, I’ve been fortunate to collaborate with many people who’ve stretched and inspired me. Usually, they’re the people who ask questions that let a little light into the conversation: “How can we make this mean something more?” In all the meetings I’ve sat through—from early on in my career when I was nervously trying to make my mark, to the leadership role I assume today—it’s always the power of curiosity that bridges the gap between what is and what can be.

I’m not exactly sure when the word “curious” came to simultaneously mean “odd” and “inquisitive,” as though these two personal traits are linked. But I imagine it occurred during the straight-laced days of “polite” society when it was socially unacceptable to think for yourself—as though sending your mind on a fact-finding mission beyond conventional boundaries was an unnatural act. In a way, this restrictive societal conformity is the early ancestor of today’s corporate groupthink, and ultimately just as damaging to free thinkers now as it was then. Because being curious is our intuitive state, our primal wisdom, and we should respect its power. Curiosity is how fire was harnessed; today it’s how children learn to experience the world.

Curiosity is the hallmark of a critical thinker.

Albert Einstein said it best when he claimed that he didn’t possess special skills but rather “passionate curiosity,” viewing that single quality as an integral part of intelligence and certainly of creativity. Being curious means going beyond the obvious: it’s what encourages us to say, “I’ve got a different idea.” Perhaps it is this seeking of alternatives, especially when it means breaking away from groupthink, which gives curiosity its risky reputation. But, in my experience, curiosity is elastic and will stretch you outside the standard framework to play a bigger field, rather than leaving you stuck in what you believe is your “specialty.” That’s because curiosity inspires curiosity, leading a group to feed off each other’s ideas. It may bring about spirited discussions (if you’re lucky), but I can tell you, curiosity is where the magic happens.

One of my most successful coworkers knows all sorts of random information plucked from all sorts of sources. He remembers and understands the nubby little details of everything. His curiosity is more than just an idiosyncrasy; it’s one of his core strengths. It’s as though he has a better mental filing system.

What’s fascinating, and what sets one curious mind apart from the next, is how each patchwork of material is aggregated: How people who tie together the souvenirs of their own curiosity can produce wildly unpredictable ideas that twist and turn, yet somehow still go straight to the heart of the matter. It’s remarkable, really.

Curiosity succeeds when it’s a combination of intellect and action.

And the best conduit is passion. But only when it is present in two equally important stages: the passion to discover as well as the passion to follow through. Because passion can be fleeting, a tendency I find in some of the most curious people: They feel so passionately in the moment, but that passion can quickly fade as their curious minds take them elsewhere, often accelerated by today’s social media which can generate short-term curiosity that leads to a lack of focus. For a leader, the challenge is to know when to encourage the sort of no-boundaries curiosity that can produce a great idea and when to impose structure that will lead to action and flawless execution. Because while I believe that curiosity creates the magic, I also understand that focus is what points the wand at your target, makes that magic happen, and gets the job done.

Curiosity can build your brand.

At west elm, curiosity is part of what defines our brand. Our customers and our employees are curious about the connections and the people behind the process. I believe that this particular type of curiosity stems from the desire for a more personal exchange: a time when you knew the shopkeeper, and you valued how, where, and by whom your products were made. We have an intensifying curiosity about makers. Allowing this curiosity to lead us, we’ve focused on how to bring that human element in through handcrafted production and storytelling. We’ve had 11 consecutive quarters of double-digit revenue growth. So, curiosity can eventually impact revenue if you follow it through.

Curiosity is intellectually liberating when you do it right.

Curiosity is ongoing. We’re always moving forward, and we take turns shining the flashlight for one another. I believe it is my responsibility to continue to cultivate curiosity among the people who work for me by asking the right questions and by letting them know that new questions and new ways of thinking are welcome.

My goal is often to expand the boundaries of the discussion, so people feel comfortable bringing up seemingly unrelated information that might ultimately take us where we want to go. This requires diffusing defensiveness and keeping the group’s criticism in check long enough to give curiosity the chance to do its job. As Alex Faickney Osborn, cofounder of the advertising agency BBDO, once said: “It is easier to tone down a wild idea than to think up a new one.” And he should know. Obsorn is credited with inventing the creativity technique named “brainstorming,” which he outlined in his 1953 book, Applied Imagination. Sixty years later, it’s still a book worth reading—but only if you’re curious enough to track it down.

And On Sundays We Rest, Part 2.

Curious Inspiration. Watch and marvel at what these craftsmen can do. The wood plane is a tool that woodworkers use to reduce flat surfaces. In Japan, the use of the wood plane is a competitive sport by masters of the craft. In the video, you can see them cut long slices of wood in sheets as thin as 9 microns. Crazy, beautiful, obsessive craft. Enjoy.

And On Sundays We Rest, Part 1.

Curious Inspiration. From a distance, the works of Li Hongbo look like classical sculptures of molded plaster or delicate porcelain, but if you try to pick one of them up, it will stretch apart like a Slinky. That’s because Li’s 3D sculptures are made entirely from thousands of sheets of paper. In the tradition of the Chinese ‘paper gourd’ technique, which is found in paper toys and decorations, Li carves realistic shapes into stacks of folded paper. As this video shows, each piece can be pulled and stretched to reveal the individual sheets of paper it comprises. Enjoy.

Curious About…California Dreaming, I.

I’m spending six months working between our two California offices in Palo Alto and San Francisco and have been reflecting over that last week about the whole Northern California experience: driving around my old neighborhood in Berkeley, across the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito, up to Napa and back to the Presidio. Silicon Valley is particularly dear to us: IDEO’s connections there through Stanford and the Sand Hill Road area run particularly deep. I want to start a set of Chronicles about this place; there is something in the air and has been for a long time, to chart individuals and movements that have shaped the area, us, and therefore me as a consequence.  

I’ve been rereading Ruth Reichl’s seminal autobiography “Tender At The Bone,” which charts her time spent immersed in Berkeley’s nascent food culture in the 70’s and in particular her relationship with the person now widely credited as the founder of California Cuisine, Alice Waters. Having lived near and eaten at Chez Panisse, Water’s famous restaurant, many times, I thought I would start there; her story and influence seem to be me to be particularly representative of a mindset that can only be described as Californian.

Originally a New Jersey native, Alice Waters graduated from the University of California, Berkeley in 1967 with a degree in French Cultural Studies. During her time at UC Berkeley, she studied abroad in France, where she shopped for local produce and prepared fresh foods simply in order to enhance the experience of the table. She herself describes the experience as “living at the bottom of a market street” and “taking everything in by osmosis.”

She brought this style of food preparation back to Berkeley, where she popularized the concept of market-fresh cooking with the local products available to her in Northern California.

Like many others, during her time at Berkeley, Waters also became active in the Free Speech Movement which was sweeping across campus at the time. In response to a campus-wide ban on political involvement and activism, Berkeley students joined together to form the movement. One of the student leaders of this movement, Mario Savio, had a profound influence on Waters. Savio became famous in 1964 for delivering a speech inciting individual student protesters to take action against the “machine” of political oppression. In his Sproul Hall Steps speech he said: “There’s a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious…And you’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus, and you’ve got to make it stop.” Although her political aims have clearly shifted, her approach to provoking change has remained constant over her tenure at Chez Panisse.

During this time, Waters also worked on the congressional campaign of Robert Scheer, an anti-Vietnam War politician. She often cooked for and entertained her fellow campaigners, and for the first time was building her reputation as a cook in addition to an activist.

Waters eventually returned to Europe, where she first trained at a Montessori school in London, and then spent time traveling in Turkey and then in France once again. Principles of the Montessori method, which emphasize practical and hands-on activities for children, are evident in her idea of “edible education” and her Edible Schoolyard program, which engages children in the preparation of fruits and vegetables that they tend to with the supervision of their teachers, is now widely held up as an example of intelligent activism. 

The School Lunch Initiative is focused on bringing wholesome school lunch to the 10,000 students in the Berkeley Unified School District. In 2005, the Chez Panisse Foundation provided a grant to Berkeley schools to hire Ann Cooper as the Director of Nutrition Services for the district. Cooper and the Foundation eliminated almost all processed foods from the district and introduced organic fruits and vegetables to the daily menu, all while staying within the district’s budget. Waters’ ongoing vision is to teach subjects such as history, science, and art through the vehicle of food.

In September 2010, the Center for Weight and Health at UC Berkeley, Center for Ecoliteracy, and the Chez Panisse Foundation released an evaluation report on the School Lunch Initiative. The report tracked elementary and middle school students over three years to determine the effects of the School Lunch Initiative on children’s eating habits and knowledge. The report found that students in schools with highly developed School Lunch Initiative components ate more daily servings of fruit and vegetables than students in schools with lesser developed programs, and that they scored higher on food knowledge assessments. Schools with highly developed School Lunch Initiative components integrated kitchen and garden classes into the school curriculum, in addition to overhauling the school lunch program.

While it is easy to criticize the naivete of today’s bumper-sticker politics (and today’s Berkeley is particularly ripe with them) as well as the often-reductive formats in which modern issues are discussed, you can’t argue with someone who has dedicated their entire life to a set of deeply-help beliefs and who both lives and encourages others to participate in them. My personal opinion is that Alice Waters’ Berkeley represents one positive and enduring aspect of the California dream: a convergent hotbed of time and space that incubated and embodied the modern-day radicalism of which she is clearly a product, and which this area, to this day, still breathes.

Curious About…鵬程萬里 (A Bright Future)

(My last column for China Business News, presented here in English and the original Mandarin. The title (I hope) refers to the Chinese fable Peng’s Journey of 10,000 Li and means “Bright Future.”)

This is, I regret to say, my last column for this magazine, so I wanted to say a heartfelt Thank You to both China Business News and to you for supporting me on this journey thus far. Over the course of the last 10 months and in 26 columns, we have explored a variety of topics together and I hope that some of my learnings can be useful to you as many of yours have been to me. I have received a lot of feedback and positive reinforcement for my thoughts and ideas, and am grateful. One thing I have avoided is making too direct a reference to today’s China in my pieces, but in this, my final column, I want to address today’s modern Chinese business thinker head-on. So, if you will indulge me, here is an open letter to the today’s Chinese CEO.

Dear Mr. Chinese CEO,

When I first came to China, the sight of a large group of Shanghai locals, their eyes tightly closed, waltzing in time to the lilting music drifting across Fuxing Park as they did their morning exercise literally moved me to tears. I was with a journalist at the time and she asked me why I was having such an extreme reaction. “Because there is something so incredibly hopeful and dignified about them,” was my immediate answer, and I hold true this thought to today: China is a country with a rich past and a vital future, and your everyday people, your 老百姓 (lao baixing - lit.”old hundred surnames” in Chinese means “ordinary folks”, “the people”) deserve nothing but the best in today, their present. When I first came I was determined, as were my colleagues at IDEO, to keep老百姓 firmly in our sights and to design products, services and experiences that made their lives better, gave them the life they aspired to and the life that many of them had struggled far beyond our comprehension to achieve. I firmly believe that it is not just designing for, but with老百姓 that will unlock business, and importantly, economic and social value beyond your wildest comprehension. Please remember to do this.

Secondly, I do not claim to be a master of philosophy, but Confucian and Taoist theory, amongst others, greatly inspired me when I was in China and continues to do so now. Something I realized very early on is that in China, ancient teachings and wisdom run deep, are revered through many generations and are not seen as something to ignore, but something to cherish. Making sure that whatever it is you say, make and do connects backwards as well as looks forward is critical - building on traditions whilst creating new ones. We found through our work that people in China are excited about new things, but even more so when those things connect backwards to traditions that they can recognize: for us, that often meant building on top of existing notions around health, family structure, food, money and social networks; by not ignoring the cultural expectations already in place around these areas, connecting our ideas to people on a deeper, cultural level. I know this may sound reductive, but to me, having a strategy is not enough in China: I suggest that you think about going deeper, and developing a philosophy. Of course I am not suggesting that everything has to link back to Confucius, but we found that ideas rooted in China’s rich intellectual past tended to resonate deeply with people.

Thirdly, it is time for China to rightfully claim its future as a design culture. Again, looking backwards, China is one of the most innovative cultures ever, and you must invest as much time and energy looking forward. We spend a lot of time at IDEO’s office in Shanghai making sure we are growing local talent as well as bringing in talent from all over the world, and it is the dialog which occurs in the overlaps between them that is most exciting. Seeing Chinese designers work alongside Western, new ideologies, methodologies and aesthetics are starting to emerge, and our work is starting to feel unique and exciting, proudly “Made in China” and enchantingly “Created in China”. I hope that Chinese leadership heavily invests in talent, creating new leadership in all fields, and understanding that design and creative, imaginative and inspirational thinking can and should play a huge role in defining the future of China’s industries and its people’s ability to think, make and inspire new ideas.

So finally, I want to end where I began my first column, on the topic of Optimism. I said then that design is a discipline that sits at the intersection of two critical things – a skillset and a mindset. The skillset is that of pragmatism: the ability to bring ideas to life and make something tangible happen. The Hands. The bigger idea, and how I want to end this, is maintaining the mindset of Optimism: the belief that you can change things for the better and being genuinely excited to do so. The Heart.

Mr. CEO, you clearly have the hands to make your future great, and I hope that your journey is long and prosperous, and above all, filled from your heart, with endless optimism.

Please stay Curious.

对鹏程万里的思考

在这里，我很遗憾地告诉各位，这是我为本杂志撰写的最后一期专栏了。所以，我想借此衷心感谢《第一财经周刊》和读者朋友们，感谢你们一路以来的支持。回顾过去10个月的26篇专栏，我们共同探索了很多话题，希望我的一些心得体会可以令你们受用，就像你们的发现也让我受益匪浅一样。这期间，我的想法和创意得到了很多反馈和正面强化，对此我非常感激。虽然我在文章中一直尽量避免直接提及当今中国现状，但在最后一篇专栏中，我想正面提一提当代的中国商业思想家。所以，我谨在此向当今中国的CEO们发出一封公开信。

 亲爱的中国CEO们，

 记得刚来中国的时候，我曾看到一群在复兴公园早锻炼的上海本地居民，他们双目紧闭，随着悠扬的华尔兹曲调翩翩起舞，让我不禁感动落泪。我当时和一位记者在一起，她问我，为什么我的反应这么强烈。“因为他们身上有一种特别的希望和尊严感。”我脱口而出说道，而到今天我依然这么觉得：中国这个国家拥有深厚的历史和重要的未来，而这里的普通人，这里的老百姓值得拥有最好的今天，享受他们的现在。我刚来中国的时候，就和IDEO的同事们一样下定了决心，要把老百姓放在心里，去设计让他们生活更美好的产品、服务和体验，给他们想要的生活，他们为之付出了我们无法想象的努力才奋斗来的生活。我坚信，我们不只是在为老百姓设计，而是要和老百姓一起设计，这样才能为业务带来更多发展潜力，更重要的是，创造出超乎想象的经济和社会价值。

其次，我自认绝非哲学大师，但在中国这段时间，儒家和道家思想大大启发了我，现在也仍是如此。我很早就领会到，在中国，古老的学问和智慧源远流长，世代得到尊崇，绝不会被忽视，而是越发被重视。确保你的言行举止能相互关联、承前启后，这非常关键，也就是要在创造新事物的同时扎根于旧传统。我们在工作中发现，中国人热衷于新事物，特别是当他们发现新事物与传统相关联的时候，这种热情就会愈发高涨。在我们看来，这通常意味着设计工作要建立在对健康、家庭结构、食物、金钱和社会网络的现有观念之上。也就是说，不应忽略隐藏在这些领域之中的文化期待，而是应在更深层的文化层面上将创意和人们相连。我认为，在中国，光有策略是不够的，还要深入结合中国本土的伟大哲学思想。当然，我不是说所有的东西都要和儒家理论有关，不过我们发现，那些与中国丰厚的古老智慧有关的想法更能与人们产生深刻的共鸣。

第三点，对中国来说，现在是时候把未来打造成设计文化。回首过去，中国可以说是有史以来最具创意的国度之一；放眼未来，你们同样需要对将来的发展付出一样多的时间和精力。在 IDEO上海办事处，我们花了很多时间，来确保在引进世界各地精英的同时，注重培养和发展本土人才，因为这些人才之间的合拍和合音才是最为激动人心的。看看中外设计师们通力合作，迸发出新的灵感、方法和美学理念，我们的工作也因此变得更加独特和振奋人心，这是令人骄傲的“中国制造”，更或是令人着迷的“中国创造”。为此，我希望中国商界的领袖人物能起到推波助澜的作用，大量投入人才培养，在各个领域创造新的领袖。我还希望大家能充分认识到，设计创新以及鼓励创意想象的启发式思维，能够也必将在中国未来各行业的发展中扮演重要角色。而这一切都对于中国人民的思考、创造和新想法的萌发同样至关重要。

最后，我想借我在首篇专栏里提到的有关乐观主义的话题，做一个总结陈词。我当时说过，设计这门学科立足于两个关键条件的交界点——技能和心态。技能即务实主义：把想法变成现实的能力，兑现具体事物的本领，也就是用“双手”去创造。而更重要的一点，也是我想用作这篇专栏的结束语，就是要保持乐观的心态：相信自己能够让事物朝更好的方向发展，并全心投入其中，也就是用“心灵”去感受。

CEO们，你们显然都有让自己的未来变得更好的“双手”，希望你们鹏程万里，前途似锦，最重要的是，让你们的“内心”充满无尽的乐观。

请保存那份好奇之心。

Curious About…Inspiration.

It’s four-fifteen in the morning and I’m awake - mind racing, thoughts tumbling, heart pounding…but for the first time in a very long time, it’s not pounding from fear of doing my taxes or missing a deadline, from forgetting to email someone something or anything even vaguely related to the practical or pragmatic - it’s not even the now-familiar heart-pounding of my insane hypochondria that kicks in at around this time, especially when I’m jetlagged as I too-frequently find myself these days. I’m not having a stroke, it’s not some tropical virus or even the all-too-familiar crazy hangover from Ambien.

I think I might be being inspired. 

It all started when I finally stopped. I’ve actually been at home for a couple of weeks, with blissfully no jetlag, no email, no drama, no demands, no need to do anything at a prescribed time or for anyone else. Just the sanity and calm that being home in a tiny quiet town in the dead of midwinter brings; that heavy, dense calm that refuses you the right to do anything but succumb to it. It brings with it a sense of place and a singular sense of purpose: to recharge and nourish oneself.

It also began with unpacking, with organizing, with purging and by default, reflecting on our life and how we live. We’ve been living out of suitcases for several years now, priding ourselves on our nomadic lifestyle, traveling from place to place. Believe me, it does not suck to be in Sydney, Singapore, Shanghai or San Francisco, but it does take its toll and especially on the more practical side of life. Our basement has borne the brunt of this, over time becoming a loading bay for dozens of random boxes, remnants of our life from other cities and countries, things we have acquired: mementos of places, books, portfolios, pictures, magazines, the detritus of being creative people, or so we keep telling ourselves.

This week I started to open the boxes, and watched our lives over the past few years tumble out: books I bought but never read, magazines I kept because of some random thing in them, things I acquired: clothes, china, candles, fragrance, toys. I played archaeologist over my own creative process, seeing patterns in the things I kept buying: felt, a fabric from my childhood, covered diaries, bags, pillows, objects; white ceramic, which I have collected for years, came in every texture, form and size; and sadly, empty sketchbooks, a constant calling to create in a new yet familiar format, kept appearing, the first couple of pages filled with scribbles, then…empty. 

But then something else happened. I stopped being frustrated with thinking about what shelf these things needed to go on, how to compartmentalize or organize them or put them away…and started actually looking at them, reading them, delving into them and above all, discovering the original intent of having them in the first place: to inspire me. Suddenly and uncontrollably, my mind filled with ideas, of things I want to do, places I want to go, things I want to see, ideas for work, for home, for everything.

My inspiration has inspired me.

So…my New Year’s Resolution is to not do this any more, to not sublimate my desire to be out in the world trawling like a blue whale for things that inspire me, my resolution is not to forget to reflect on these things, to enjoy them, play with them, carry them with me in some way, and to make use of them. To allow them to nourish me.

My friend Vanessa Holden, the creative director of West Elm, was profiled recently on a blog and I keep going back the portraits of her that accompany the article, joyfully standing in front of a huge wall of images, images of things she has collected, things that inspire her, that move her. Her creativity and inspiration literally jumps out at you. I want to do that somehow, and even though I may be mobile, I want to figure out how to take all this with me in some way. I don’t want to only get this rush every few years when I unpack, I want to have it become a part of my daily ritual, to stop, absorb and reflect on the journey I am on.

I say to the designers I work with on a daily basis: “Being inspired is part of your job.” I think that maybe it is time for me to take my own advice. 

Curious About…Purpose.

One of my favorite quotes is by the artist Pablo Picasso: “The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.”

There is much usage in today’s modern business lexicon of the word “purpose.” I suppose it makes sense, given the increasingly complex times we live in: the constant threat and strain of one global economic crisis after another, endless geopolitical unrest, dramatic climatic shifts and environmental disasters occurring with increasing speed, not to mention an increasing individual pressure to be more successful, more attractive, make more money, buy more stuff…the list goes on and on. We clearly feel adrift, and are looking for ways to feel anchored, secure and in control: feeling more deliberately purposeful is one of them.

I went a few years ago to a financial analysis breakfast put on by the Financial Times in London: it was held at the lowest ebb in what would soon reveal itself to be the biggest economic recession since the thirties. A bunch of verbose consultant-types were trying to compete with each other for the cleverest theories about How We Got Here and What We Do Next.

A man in the audience stood up. He introduced himself quietly and simply as ‘a banker.’ He was clearly not going to get any love from this crowd, and he knew it. He said the following, surprisingly without any grandstanding or pathos:

“I have some news for you all. We are not in the middle of an economic crisis. We are in the middle of a moral crisis, and our economic decline is merely a symptom of our moral decline. I know being angry at me feels easier. But it is ourselves that we are really angry at.”

Silence filled the room.

So here we find ourselves near the end of 2012, trying to make sense of, depending on which way you look at it, our moral or economic decline, trying to reconnect ourselves back to what matters, trying wherever possible to do The Right Thing. Hopefully not just consumed with or consuming the What, but genuinely starting to think about the Why. Why we do this, Why we buy that. Why we choose this product, who makes it, and Why I should care. Why?

Modern brands are smart and realize that this core desire to come from something deeper, to not just have a strategy but a purpose, is not only smart philosophically, but smart for business too. As consumers increasingly shift their attention towards more meaningful products, services and experiences, having a core set of purposeful values that you stand for, can articulate and most importantly, demonstrate, is key. No longer is it enough to communicate What you make, but now you need to have integrity and a belief as to Why you make it in the first place.

The star of the purposeful business conversation for the last couple of years has without a doubt been restaurant chain Chipotle in the US. Tired of the lack of human values inherent in the world of fast food, it decided to take a stand and in response created Food With Integrity, a purpose-driven philosophy aiming to change mainstream American food culture.

The first issue Chipotle wanted to address was industrial farming. They knew many stories of family farmers who had turned their farms into factory farms and then subsequently grown to regret it. In response they commissioned a short film entitled “Back to the Start” which highlighted the inhumane issues of mass animal production in a simple, human, animated format. At the end of the film, a title card appears letting people know that they can download the theme song, a cover version of the Coldplay original by Willie Nelson on iTunes, and that the proceeds benefit the Chipotle Cultivate Foundation, dedicated to creating a sustainable, healthy, and equitable food future. People responded and the song reached number one on the iTunes chart, the movie was viewed over 7 million times and Chipotle’s sales have skyrocketed, consumers seeing their own desire to change a issue that has haunted many for years finally come into the mainstream. Doing good begets doing good.

Which brings me back to Picasso.

I’m not suggesting that purposeful business has to just be about giving things away, but you have to have an agenda that is not purely about making money. Chipotle are in the business of changing an arcane industry and money is following that purpose, just as it should. As the world gets increasingly complicated and unstable, holding on to things that speak to us and our inherent desire to do good for us all – as people, producers and planet – means that purposeful business practices feel like a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

To Purpose.

And On Sundays We Rest.

Curious Inspiration. 

Capturing the essence of your own home is an interesting task; allowing yourself to meander through it and seeing what rises to the top, even more so. In my case, I’ve realized through fooling around on Instagram that our home is essentially a selection of textures from around the world. The house itself is pretty neutral - a simple box - although with every surface meeting every other surface at an angle other than 90 degrees the shapes are in themselves a work of art. But blessed as we are by amazing beach light, ample glass, great views and changing seasons, the house becomes a living canvas. Enjoy.  

And On Sundays We Rest.

Curious Inspiration. My colleague Noella Boudart kindly sent me this incredible video of starling murmuration after I shared a talk last week about the interdependence structures that exist in the natural world. Flocking starlings are one of nature’s most extraordinary sights: just a few hundred birds moving as one is enough to convey a sense of suspended reality, and the flock filmed above the River Shannon contained thousands. Watch it all the way through. Enjoy.

Curious About…Hierarchy.

I’m often asked by a journalist or an audience member at a talk I’m giving: “What’s the biggest barrier to innovation being successful inside an organization?” I always give the same one word answer: “Hierarchy.”

A simple explanation of what I mean by that: one of our key principles at IDEO is the concept of encouraging wild ideas: of being bold, exploring the edges, being silly sometimes, but essentially being brave, not self-censoring and allowing yourself to free-associate: you never know (and we have seen it proved-out time and time again) how today’s crazy brainstorm idea often becomes tomorrow’s new business idea. What is required for that to happen is the confidence that you won’t be judged, held negatively accountable for failing or, worst case scenario, fired, for having the courage to speak your mind. Fear of your boss is possibly the biggest inhibitor to creativity, and your boss acting in a way that encourages that fear is the biggest single threat to creating an innovative culture.

Wikipedia states: “A hierarchy is typically depicted as a pyramid, where the height of a level represents that level’s status and width of a level represents the quantity of items at that level relative to the whole. For example, the Director of a company could be at the apex, and the base could be thousands of people who have no subordinates.”

I personally couldn’t disagree more with this concept of a hierarchy being a triangle with a single person at the top: it implies top-down control, rigidity, ascension and power. When I draw IDEO’s structure, I draw it as the inverse: an upside-down triangle, with myself and my leadership peers at the bottom, supporting, fluidly providing buoyancy and a platform for others to build on top of. Trite as it may sound, I think the role of today’s CEO is to be less top-of-the-pyramid Chief Executive Officer and more base-of-the-pyramid Chief Enabling Officer.

I am aware of the cultural implications of saying this and rarely in this column do I address issues of Chinese nuance head-on, but this issue is so essential to the success of innovation in business that it something I feel I must bring up. From personal experience of working in China that the CEO of the typical Chinese organization is often expected to perform an extremely top-down role: Confucius himself stressed the importance of maintaining hierarchical relationships. While hierarchical relationships can take many forms in China, they all tend to center around deference and respect for the dominant figure in the relationship. Some examples include the ruler-subject, husband-wife, parent-child, elder-younger brother, teacher-student, doctor-patient and even in friend-friend relationship. I appreciate that because the structures of these relationships are so important to Chinese culture as a whole, they can also influence behavior in all aspects of lives. I am wondering if it is time to re-think this concept, to still have the benefit of a hierarchy, that is to say: clarity, structure and focus, but without the need to behave in a hierarchical and top-down way.

One thing I can say that working in innovation consulting has taught me is the importance of embracing flatness: of acknowledging the fact that ideas can and often do come from all places inside an organization: the top, the middle and the bottom. Not being threatened by that but in fact excited by it is what separates a truly innovative organization from one that merely dabbles in innovation. One of my best-ever clients, AG Lafley, the former CEO of Procter & Gamble (P&G), was adamant that his role as CEO was not just to promote top line growth by creating breakthrough ideas, but also to nurture, develop and keep talent at all levels inside the organization by rewarding bravery, encouraging risk and creativity and embracing failure. He was still the CEO, but I would argue the inverse pyramid kind, that of a Chief Enabler. A testament to this is P&G’s resounding market success and the fact that so many of Lafley’s team are still with the company today, many haven risen to senior leadership roles, and are encouraging the same behaviors in their teammates today; that wherever and whoever an idea comes from, it is valid and to be taken seriously.

Interestingly, Confucius also talked about the concept of Collectivism: the desire for co-dependence and group decision-making. I am starting to wonder if the answer for today’s Chinese business lies somewhere between these two constructs – that of the new, more enabling pyramid structure and the wisdom of collective decision making, of encouraging wild ideas and deciding together, without judgment, how to move forward.

To Enabling.