Making a thing better

GREETINGS. I’m in the middle of a massive decluttering exploration. Unlike the times when I moved house (six times in Phnom Penh alone, over five years), this time, it’s digital. Well, it’s not just clearing out files and getting rid of the reels and reels of dead, boring pix. It’s about also clarifying the concept for our new directions in 2019. In several spots: at this website; in the real life spaces that the website invites some of us to join in conversation salons for (magic thing that internet can be!); and in the zines we make with the people we are meeting. Together.

S P A C E | ‘Blank Sky’, Finland 2018

But it’s more about the conversation and curation. It’s got bigger dimensions than just the papers that we make. It’s uniquely DK’s because it’s a particular style and approach, and also a mode of hosting, that invites warmth and welcome, we feel, and we are getting a tighter grip on how to do that. What it looks like. Feels like. Lives into, and becomes. All very heady and stuff, I know, but that might be because we’ve only just begun. Gestational stuff is like that. It feels like that: you have the thing there, and then, boom. It’s starting to develop. Nature.

Continue reading “Making a thing better”

S P A C E | The Book of Slow Moment

CURRENTLY WRITING FROM Johor Bahru, in Malaysia. First time.

Never had a reason to stop here but as I’m due in Singapore very soon to host Atelier S P A C E next weekend, figured it was a good time to visit. Why not. Besides, I was getting really tired of being on my own: another first, for me, being fatigued with solo travel. Really strange. I think it has to do with the fact that I’ve only very recently discovered the joy of traveling with friends. I mean, like, for real. Mostly, what is exotic now about movement with people I know already is the conversation that progresses… which is what I miss, right now. Strange, this change.

I had always loved, loved, even lived for, journeying alone. Which is why I went to Finland for three months, to make the pictures in the zine, ‘The Book of Slow Moment,’ which I’ll tell you about shortly. But. But. But. There’s something… changing now… solo travel is different because people are not there to connect, they’re there to stay connected to what they already know and who they already know… which means, they’re closed to you… you are a random intruder into their scrolling. Which means you’re ‘weird,’ for wanting to strike up a conversation with a stranger. Yeah. So what I’m concluding is, and this is really a jolt, is that to them, I’m weird, to these people, who are on the road, supposedly. Not them. (Exception, S. That was cool. Hope you got my msg on instagram. Thanks!)

 

How to find more of us?

In the brute force method of trying to solve a problem, you just keep trying bunches of options until something ‘works.’ What I’m talking about in trying to brute-force finding ‘quality connection,’ is just randomly going around talking to people until, hey!, one or two times out of a hundred, it ‘works!’

SO YEAH. Realized it. I’m just not gonna find the curious people out here, on the road. As easily. People are just bored or stressed, and they want ‘a change.’ Which leaves me wondering, what am I doing here? Looking for the story. But… where is it? You can get lost in the places and you can find the stories, reporter-in-the-field, man-on-the-street interview style, by simply brute-forcing it, but you can also get incredibly bored (like just now. A weird encounter with someone upstairs made me locate to this downstairs, just-by-the-window table, where I feel better because no one is asking a lot of nosy questions about how I’m making a living and why I’m able to do this without having a) won the lottery or b) become a ‘YouTuber’. He said, ‘I’m just curious.’ I said, ‘I have things to do.’) Or maybe I was just getting annoyed because this place was a bit too hip for me (read: ‘pretentious’) and, while the coffee was indeed excellent, didn’t really do it for me, designwise. Too much clutter. Too much ‘interesting’. Too instagram-oriented. Too… overdone. Who was this for? What was its objective? The space, I mean. Was it for me? No. It was for the people who want to journey from afar to take a picture of themselves sprawled on the bed upstairs. Yes. Bed.

Too much.

Just… stop.

I’m a snob, right? Oh, well. Owning it.

Make it… a cafe, if it’s a cafe. (Weirdly, there was a sign on the way to that room that says model photography is not allowed. But of course people were there to take pix of themselves. There. In the cafe. The one with a bed.)

Will I be back there?

No.

Why?

Just. No.

 

Choosing when to engage

HARRUMPH. Well, that’s just me being me. Not wanting to engage when I just really don’t want to. Leaving and moving forward when something irritates. The wrong mood, the wrong phrase, the not-quite-interesting direction a conversation takes because that’s the slipperiest-and-least-awkward-supposedly, and doesn’t get hot with the friction of the right sort of conflict; not philosophies of how one gets on in a capitalist world but how one examines and explores life.

Need. To. Keep. Moving. To find more of us. You need to have real curiosity (and social grace, right?) if you want to be able to move towards the good stuff. I mean, really. Be good at conversations and things will emerge. For example, the whole thing I wrote above about getting annoyed and leaving abruptly contrasts very markedly to the other conversations I’ve had in recent days (Phnom Penh, Ipoh): contrast the above awkward moment to the chance encounters and story-relating with O. and N. Where there was an actual interest in one another’s histories, curiosity about one another’s pasts, real eye contact, even hugs and goodbye notes. And not a lot of boring (and I mean it in both senses of the word: boring into one’s personal life by asking protruding questions is just as –or more?–tiresome as a long conversation with someone dull).

Many times I have wondered about Johor–or JB. Writing it down. Writing about whom I meet that is actually interesting. Looking for the story; staying open. Giving myself five days.

 

Working on stuff

Testing out some photos for ‘The Book of Slow Moment’, a set of images DK gathered over June, July and August in northern Finland.

MEANTIME. THIS WEEK IN S P A C E, DK are publishing ‘The Book of Slow Moment.’ It had originally been put together as a photozine in black-and-white for a very (very) small set of people. Small circles. Keeps it interesting. But there was such a great response, I figured it might be a good time to share it again, with members of a slightly larger circle. The circle of S P A C E. Today, I’m sharing ‘The Book of Slow Moment’ again. This time, in color. Enjoying solitude and offline time for the last few weeks here in rural Malaysia, I’ve added a new set of words.

Sharing in the exclusive community that’s coming into shape: you know who you are. And thank you for supporting this work to go and find the stories that don’t get told, the ones about real people, who are young and curious or older and wiser, who are of the kind of mindsets that aren’t popular with the people who decide what goes into the press, with the people who are asking new questions and sending you amazing life tips and opening their hearts. It takes time to discover more of us, but I’m definitely gonna keep going, questing, asking questions, to connect and interconnect us. One. Designful. Moment. At a time.

This post is for C. Thanks for sharing your story with me, you really made my day. Good luck with the songwriting. And send me stuff, if you want. 🙂

S P A C E | ‘Fear for the Change’

THIS POST is for N.

N. Cool. I left you a note. I hope you get that, and this. I’ll see you in Riga, maybe. (One hundred percent serious).

I have to hold myself back from going into advice-giving mode, but I can’t help but write that thing the way I wrote it, and also, this:

There are good people running about in the world also asking questions, as you are. Don’t worry: we’ll find some of us, some of each other eventually, and then it won’t seem so daunting and crazy and big and hard. At least, that’s what I’ve noticed.

You left a great impression on me: thanks for that.

Lately I’m finding a string of chance encounters with young women who are reminding me of my earlier goal to put together a body of work designed to help teens, mostly, figure themselves out… or rather… to begin to frame the space that lets you discover yourself fully and completely and not quit in the middle because of some pressures to conform to some things that when you really think about it (as I see you are) really run counter to that. We are taught to be something, a certain way, a certain style, without investigating our way towards something… that we don’t even know what it is yet. Letting the journey come towards us… I remember my friend P in Durham NC saying to me that there’s a Native American tradition that says when a woman turns forty she chooses a name for herself…

*space*

Will do more thinking about what we said when I take the time this week to get away from ‘it all’. Or, wait. Maybe just not-think for a spell…

To the journeys, the new, the near and the next. See you in the up.

S P A C E | ‘Dear O.’

DEAR O.,

Well, hi.

Nice meeting you. Yesterday.

That was surprising and refreshing. I had no idea… that such a small, short question could launch us into, well, I like to call it, um, S P A C E. Designing it: that’s what I do, mostly, but it’s hard to talk about when you haven’t actually experienced it… the things we said, right? Life. The journey. Etc.

Yeah. Writing a blog post and writing a journal are similar, but I’ve turned this into something else… like, public-facing letters. This. This, too. It’s a letter. Like as if we could find a way back to those times we would send postcards (except, hey, mail gets lost… I’ve already heard that an envelope went awry because of floods in the southeastern United States and because of probably rules and things you can’t put into them towards Eastern Europe. Alas.)

But so? We have internet. So let’s use it. To connect. Say, maybe, this was a postcard, or written in pencil, maybe even cursive. (As you know, there are mostly keyboards around in the cafes here, these days).

 

The things we said yesterday

WELL, I SAID I’d write up what we talked about, didn’t I? Tell you what I heard, tell you as clearly as I can given the background noise (a large group of Ozzies, but they are family-oriented types, they seem to be having a very grownup conversation about whereabouts of the travels of the others; catching up). Mind, it would be easier to write if it was as quiet as when you were here and with far fewer distractions around. When it starts filling up, I feel like leaving a place. More about that to be reflected on, inwardly: when a place gets ‘discovered’ it’s time to move on. I had this short pice I wrote about Haapavesi, in Finland, and someone saw that and said, ‘You went to Haapavesi? Haapavesi!? You go to… peculiar places!’ (Oh. Do I? I guess… I’m looking for new things. And not the things that have already been written about, blogged about, instagrammed, blah blah.) Food coloring in my avocado in Bali. Food coloring so it would be greener. You know, for the instagram. (I returned it.)

Ahead. Well. Sure. Big topic. The things to come are what they are going to be, right? We talked about, in my words, ‘where the turn happened.’ Both of us, questing. Finding one another by sheer chance, in that magic moment that later in the day, I ran into K and he and I talked about that. Some more. And som either things about narratives, but it dived into something super fast-paced and multi-layered when that conversation shifted (place, moment) to another box of space, closer to BKK1, where M was waiting with an empty plate and a laptop and ready to talk. About. Everything. Which I love. And here we are again… S P A C E quests S P A C E, I’m starting to realize, and sometimes I bump into the likes of wonderful young women like you, O, and it reminds me that I have to keep writing towards you: and the others, who are probably, if you are anything like me, wondering what to make of ‘it all’ and how to plough forward into the rough seas of the darkness of not-knowing. A good question.

 

Forays and purple prose

THAT SHOULD be a book, really. A Book of New Things. Am working on it, with some friends, behind the scenes here, to be honest. (All kinds of meanders, wanders, forays into the field, but coming back, touching down, resonance-finding and discovering.) Recently, after asking for some advice about where to take DK in 2019, someone I don’t know well told me to get rid of, in a nice way, I mean, but to tone down all the flowery language. Ornamental verse, and all. Someone else had said that, too. ‘Just say it straight, DK. If you start getting attached to all the decorative writing, it’s nice, and all, but they won’t understand and they’ll just shake their heads and if they’re talking to you say, nicely, ‘I like this but I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.’ Noted. But you know? When I talk all flowery in real life, it’s a different kind of a moment. It’s actually… sometimes… welcomed, in a way, I feel? Maybe because it’s so rare that someone wants to talk in a way that sounds like it’s being written as she talks. I guess. That’s just. How I am, sometimes. Purple prose: it’s cool.

 

***

O, YOU WERE RIGHT. It is like a journal. Yet, I get to say ‘thanks’ here, to you. For saying it like it is: if we are the type of person who thinks a lot about a lot, often, and I mean, like, really often, and we have no idea if what we’re thinking about connects to anything else that anyone else is thinking about, and then we find each other, thinking about things often and a lot and deeply and even to a pint, sometimes, of losing it a little, (yes, it’s a thing), then yeah. We can relax a little. ‘Because someone else is taking care of that part, and caring about it,’ and stuff like that. Co-creating the Work of Doing It All Better… More some other time. Leave me a note if you see this?… (I had more here but I realize I wanted to spend more time writing properly; so tired from the Water Festival traffic, heat, etc. Hope you found your way around town and that it’s all okay with the little bro, too.)

‘That was fun!’

THIS NOTE is for the wonderful people I met last night. A, J and J, thank you. And before the bar, the person at the cafe. I’m sorry I forgot your initial…

Those were some good conversations !

Forgot.

You could.

Have them.

Anytime.

I really appreciate the interest in the zines. It was refreshing and delightful to meet people who were curious and open to the idea of trying something new. This is my job. This is my full-time job. It’s not like I do other things ‘for crust.’ No, no, no. I’m here to make zines. Nonlinear, unexpected: chance encounters, the serendipity of it all. Magic moments? If I’m lucky. More is coming. Join our list? Here’s where.

 

Winter 2018-19: ‘The Work of Art’

Line art by Aubrey Beardsley. DK first discovered these drawings at an exhibition in London 1999. They sent DK inspired with pen and paper, looking for space in flat, matte composition while exploring the negative space in which ‘anything is possible.’ ‘Anything is possible’ was the studio’s first tag line, in 2004.

In search of meaning


E X P L O R I N G _ T H E _ A R T
of
Human Relationship

 

Times, shifts, curiosity about new people and new ways of thinking, and the general crisscross of emails and vague fragments of thoughts are what we write and share about in S P A C E. Works are creative nonfiction short stories, co-created with members of Design Kompany’s team both in Phnom Penh and in the places where we are going to discover new and different voices ‘out there,’ in the field.

Where are the new and unusual perspectives, hiterto underreported or cast aside as ‘ethnic?’ Let’s go find them. Let’s write them, share them, co-create them. In S P A C E Meet us there? Introductory offer: subscribe for just $4/week.

S P A C E posts every Tuesday at 7AM USEST. When. you subscribe, you’ll get it every week by email, plus these exclusive PDF zines, too. Themes change but the idea is that we get closer to the study of what it means to look, listen, discover, hear what we are able to piece together when we make a space for quieting, and noticing, both one another, and ourselves.


Publication schedule

Into the Quiet

4 December
S P A C E | Kärsämäki, ‘ The Book of Slow Moment’

11 December
S P A C E | Oulu, ‘Kesärakkausjuttu’

 

Finding the stillness.


Encounters

18 December, 2018
S P A C E | Phnom Penh, ‘Angle of Incidence’

 Living in Cambodia: then and now.


Companionship

1 January, 2019
S P A C E | Tampere, ‘Miia’

8 January, 2019
S P A C E | Kyoto, ‘One Moment Cafe’

Alexis Jokela’s follow-up story, set in Tampere, to Jokela’s July piece, ‘A Summer Love Story’


Mirth

15 January, 2019
S P A C E | Helsinki, ‘Coat Check’

22 January, 2019
S P A C E | Brussels, ‘The Work of Art’

A. Spaice goes to Helsinki to discover 16 random strangers and talk to them, at a once-off conversation salon on the theme, NEUROSIS. Here’s what happened.


Enchantment

5 February, 2019
S P A C E | Rovaniemi, ‘Arctic Circle”

12 February, 2019
S P A C E | Berlin, ‘Strange Geometries’

A jaunt to Lapland, unplanned and spontaneous, lands a pair of wanderers at the gateway of an unmistakably enchanted forest. Inspired by H. C. Andersen’s description in The Snow Queen of ‘Finnmark’. 


Subtlety

19 February, 2019
S P A C E | Singapore, ‘The Prospect of Beauty’

26 February, 2019
S P A C E |  Malmö, ‘Vakt’

What makes something beautiful? Looking with a microscope for ‘the remarkable’ in a money-obsessed island.


 Calls for submission will be made through S P A C E. Subscribe to get the details.

Subscribe at our crowdfunding page >

Five years: I <3 Cambodia

TODAY OUT OF THE BLUE, I recalled some tidbit of wisdom that reminds me of how true it is that we are able to make things happen if we put our minds to a focused direction. The tidbit went something like:

We overestimate what we can accomplish in one year but underestimate what we can do in five.

The 5-years-and-counting journey in Cambodia is getting outlined and packed-together, in the way I like to do when taking stock and making summary statements of ‘what I’ve learned’ to myself. I remember doing that for every single project, at my first job. An architect’s office. Before that, I’d write down what I thought I’d learned from my college projects, mostly civil engineering stuff, all those diagrams, all those flowcharts, all those steel load calculation I-beam thingies.

 

I-Beam. Steel Mechanics. I got a stupid ‘B’ in this class. The other ‘B’ was in… psychology.

 

 

Ace is high

IT WAS HARD work and tiring but the important part, I think, was learning to get through the tedious. Problem-solving. Arranging items, making calculations. Learning what problem it is that you want to solve. What variable you want to optimize for. These are the things of engineering school. You work all night on a homework assignment, or anyway, half of it, then you meet for coffee at usually Caribou on Hillsborough Street to find JK, who would have the other half, and there you go. Voila. Done. From what I learned, thereafter, JK went into finance. Said so, once, in a letter? Or a call? I can’t remember. I went into design somehow. Not that I studied it. Not that I studied journalism, either, but worked for a daily for two years and an alt-weekly for two, too. (‘Two, too.’ I like this little thing.) When we were seniors, we talked about what we were gonna do next in Life. The big chapter of Next. J wasn’t taking the EIT. ‘What’s the point? I’m not going to be an engineer, ever. And neither are you.’ I took it, passed. I never became a PE (professional engineer). Last time I heard from J, I was in art school in NY, cycling around over the Brooklyn Bridge at half past three usually, running around to jazz clubs with a black pen and white paper, all night long. But hell if I didn’t know how to take a derivative. LaPlace transforms, however, were never my strength. Why am I talking about math?

My father, an engineer told me not to study architecture because it was too artsy, and so I went into structural civil engineering, no, wait: it was geotechnical. Soils. Soil mechanics. Talk to me about clay. Talk to me about silty-sandy.

 

The hydraulic gradient. (A+). ✨

 

 

E-School

OR NOT. But if you did engineering, ask me to tell you my joke. Have one good joke. I’ll tell it to you. Oh, I know why I’m talking about math. Yeah. Because, KE. Fractals and chaos and our renderings on the computer all night while we tried to figure out the equations and Julia sets and z stuff. K, my best friend in those days, and roommate, and optimistic, very dear friend. K, who came to ‘Today I Love You’ the art installation where so did my high school art teacher and a new client at a big university who had signed the contract with the software guys who had subcontracted DK and whom I’d yet to meet. ‘Hi, I’m DK.’ ‘Hi!’

And yeah: serendipity. Entropy. The way things emerge. Chaos, turbulence: flow. This is starting to sound like a poem.

Poetry and math. Math and jazz. These are the things. It’s getting interesting around here. In S P A C E. Shoo.

I <3 MATH? But math is fun. Geometry, sin cos tan. Relational art and relational aehsteics and trigonometry are all related. Related ! See what I did there. Wow, I type like this when I’ve had too many coffees in a row, and it’s loud where I am because of some kid’s video game, and of course the pops. Too loud radio. Too many people on their phones. I forgot why I liked being fa away, in Finland (very very quiet). But I also had missed the chaos of all this: the noises blurring into each other and ridiculousness of conversations that the so-called ‘do-goody’ types come and do nothing of substance. But maybe they need five years… be nice, DK. Be nice. Ooo. One of them is ordering something, in that typical way of condescension, making a wisecrack that he doesn’t think anyone can understand. Me, on my headphones, trying to blare out the jarring juxtaposition but secretly  enjoying it, too. The chaos. What a change from Caribou on Hillsborough, and all those gridded pages of calculations and discrepancies coming up and the most important conversation being what to do next. Here, it’s anything is possible. Anything is next.

But next, more immediately, is KL.

 

KL // DK 2018

S P A C E | ‘What is important to learn and know about?’

‘THAT IS EPISTEMOLOGY.’

‘Hm?’

‘Epistemology.’ [The branch of philosophy that studies the nature of knowledge, its presuppositions and foundations, and its extent and validity.]

‘Um.’

‘Do you know what that is, DK?’

‘No.’

‘Oh.’

‘…’

‘Well we should have coffee sometime. What you’re saying is very interesting. I’d like to continue.’

‘Well. I’m not doing coffee dates these days. I get tired of all the admin that comes with setting them up and moving them around. I like hosting stuff where you just combine everybody, now. Or trying to get a really intriguing discussion going, like a salon. Did that in India, a six-part series, talking about modernity and change in Sikkim… Beautiful place, have you been? Hm? Oh, Gangtok. Really great. Oh! I also really liked taking about the creative process in a thing called ‘MAKE.’ What? Yeah. I do. I really do. I like titling things. Concept art is that, really. You set it all up before hand and the art happens when it starts… you let it just play.’

‘…’

‘But yeah. Salons. Fun. Plus, placing people together in a highly designed space, S P A C E, I call it now, is, um, waaaay more interesting to me. To share and connect across well, chords of a circle, in a way. Hm? Chords? Sure, I can explain. Like this, wait. Let me show you.’

[Takes out sketchbook and a black pen. Draw this:]

 

 

 

 

‘See? Isn’t that more interesting, now, than just one li’l ol’ chord, on its own?… I really prefer the relational aesthetics, to just this thing. I kinda talk about it a lot more on my website. But yeah. Chords. Remember geometry in tenth grade? Wait, here. Where’s my red pen… Oh, there. Okay, I’m ready:’

[Draws:]

 

Chord: ‘A line segment connecting two points on a curve. The red line segment connecting two points on a circle’s circumference is a chord. Note: when the chord passes through the center of a circle it is called a “diameter”. Different, la.’

 

 

[Nervously] ‘Uhhh… Well I was thinking just coffee.’

‘Coffee dates with me tend to go on for two or four hours. Not even kidding. And with some people, 10 hours. And….’ [Smiling] ‘… once, for like, twenty days. Two years ago? That was fabulous, rare, beautiful, artful, insight-making, maturifying, two years on… even better. And we’re still talking. We talk like hell. It’s weird. I love it. But yeah. And I’m trying to get a new venture started, right now. A magazine called S P A C E. So, no? Besides, we just met.’

[Hurt] ‘But… but… I don’t get to have conversations like this ! You’re making me think. About things. In new ways. I can’t talk like this with my best friend, or my wife, or my colleagues. I really want more of this… Can we? Aren’t I just amazing? Besides, I’d like to get to know you better. Personally.’

‘Best thing to do is join one of our online programmes, ‘Philosophy of the Moment Section B’ starts soon, or come to one of our events. Or join the mailing list to see what’s going on. It’s all kinds of conversations like this. These are the active spaces. Meet me and everybody.”

‘Um. Well I only have a little time. So I could meet for coffee.’

[Ad-lib. Repeating the part about events and mailing lists. Elaborates on why. Goes into depth about the meaning of social spacemaking] ‘…. whatever remains after a set of  ‘get to know you’ seasons, I like to make something. With them. S P A C E is the thing I’m interested in. S P A C E quests S P A C E…’ [Smiling]

 

 

 

‘Well. That sounds hard and time-consuming.

[Stubbornly] ‘Nothing worth doing should be an instant gratification. If quality is important, I mean. To me. To me, it’s like this: Art. Takes. Time.’

‘…’

‘…’

‘Are your parents Marxists?’

[Laughs]

This is part of a series, 100 conversations. Underwritten by members of S P A C E.

The things to come

Phnom Penh // DK 2018

First editorial meeting today, for S P A C E | Phnom Penh, ‘Angle of Incidence.’

Discovering, sourcing, planning, sharing, connecting, interconnecting and framing. That’s what it is. To start.

Getting the team together. Organizing the pages without overthinking or over designing.

Leaving room for stuff to develop, other stuff to emerge. Being okay with things taking time. Being cool with letting go of what doesn’t fit, in the collection. Bricolage and collage being my ‘thing,’ along with relational art and the aesthetics around that, which academics write about (thank y0u) but which I, personally, design moments in which me, and hopefully others who also enjoy these things, can experience the ‘magic moment.’

AHEAD. New things, ahead. Grateful for the learning, and the reconsiderations of old things. For the replies to the notes I’ve been sending here and there around the world, and calls that I’m getting to make and enjoy relaxing into, too. For the responses to the poetry, for the notes and the critiques to the Winter 2018-9 collection’s editorial calendar. For the trust. For showing up. For the new rekindlings, deepening of some of what had begun, on my last trips here, and also, for the continued happening-upon new and different others that lands me here, time and time again, in S P A C E. Today was cool. It’s not over yet, but it’s been really neat. Booked tickets. Firmed up plans for the next stops. [To the wonderful urban planner, C, whom I just met today–hey! That was one hell of a conversation and very much needed. My questions again: how do we design and architect social spaces that ‘feel great’, but also, help people discover ways to think crticically and make choices that let them live better? What does a full city contain that an underdeveloped one doesn’t? What should be doing, as people who design spaces, and whose responsible for us ‘being happy’ and ‘living such as to become our best selves?’ Used to nerd about about these topics at walkable communities conferences Stateside and the time in Seattle interviewing loads and loads of engineers, city officials, and yeah, urban planners. The podcast I mentioned, is here. So yeah. Looks like Tuesdays are turning into S P A C E-y ones. Shall I make another thing? I can. I’m thinking maybe just two or three people now. It’s tiring, sometimes, to keep at it. But yeah. Sometimes you fall into the moment and it catches you by surprise. If you wanna talk about art, design, architecture, the shape of space, poetics, cities, and what gives the fabric of meaning to them, hey. I’m all in. Just hit me up.) To A and K: safe journeys. To A and R: SYS. And yeah. For anyone wondering what’s going on behind the scenes, here is where to join the conversation.]

8-9 Dec | Atelier S P A C E Singapore

RETURNING TO SINGAPORE for the second-ever popup salon-cum-zinemaking atelier, Atelier S P A C E. This time, we’ve got a bunch of zines to show from our travels to Finland, Malaysia, Cambodia, and the UK. This is a chance to engage very deeply and meaningfully with a very small group of people: just 4. You’ll meet, greet, and connect to co-create an 8-page zine, built from the conversations you’ll be part of as we talk, discover, and find our way to what the group wants to make, together. A unique experiential publishing opportunity. Made with, and for, those of you who are ready to try something new. In Singapore, and curious?

  • Book your earlybird ticket here.
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The work of Art

IN A STRANGE, curious, wonderful arrangement of things related to times, shifts, curiosity about new people and new ways of thinking, and the general crisscross of emails and vague fragments of thoughts that belong to, well, S P A C E, I’m having a moment. A moment of learning. Of wild-eyed awareness of what it is we do. In S P A C E. Not because I haven’t done things here before that I feel have merit, but because I wasn’t able to pack it into a short, concise, easy-to-relate-to, and most importantly, fast, little sentence. A ‘blurb,’ if you will. A ‘marketing blurb,’ ugh, cringe, bleh. And yet. You have to. Be relatable. If you want to be related to. Only in recent weeks, practicing by doing this, more and more, the making of space in which new and different others can find remarkable connexion, sure, in the salons and workshops and ateliers and popups and even now, in the co-created works we are publishing soon in miniature printed zines, too, it’s happening. The awareness of the what, after so many years of practicing how, and theorizing about why. ‘What’ has been important, of course, in the big way it always is. But when people asked me, ‘What is this, DK?,’ I wanted to run. To Sweden, to hide on a boat, say. Or bury myself into books. (Described both experiences in Breakfast in Cambodia). But I have to answer the question now. It’s taken a while, but I know how, now. About the ‘what is it’ thing. I know. Ask me? Here’s a form.

 

Hitting ‘print’ on ‘Janteloven’

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… And I’m excited, too, to finish the next issue already, today is the launch of S P A C E member Aske Pedersen‘s ‘Janteloven.’ Really great to work on this, I’m feeling excited to share it with our community, soon. Today we’re just gonna stare it internally, in DK’s very small, most inner circle of S P A C E: editors and friends, who’ve been talking with us, teaching us new ways of trying things, experimenting, exploring, traveling, discovering, and most importantly, writing and making, with us, these past 2+ years, around the world. But I do have a public page, too. Find it here.