… 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.
LATER ON TODAY. The first conversation in S P A C E that’s actually in the cloud. A conference call. Connecting members. Across distance, and from spots of time that are disparate, for me. We met in 2011(?), (when was it, S.?) at a bar called James Joyce, for example. Or we met at a place that had a lot of people on laptops and not-talking so we started talking-talking because why not make that happen instead of becoming a zombie. ‘Play a game of cards with us?’ ‘Okay, yes.’ Thanks, MB, for being part of this long journey.
S P A C E | The Book of New Things. It’s not exactly a planning meeting, but you might call it that if you were a planny-planny type, which, believe me, is not my usual nature, but it is, kind of, also. Sometimes you get that side of me that’s like, ‘Right. We have the design intent. That’s 90% of the work, ladies and gentlemen. Now, let’s get crackin’ on this thing before we lose interest, scope creep sets in, someone has a personal crisis and drops out, or expectations get fuzzy and no one knows what the hell the thing is about anymore. Momentum, you could say.’
Which reminds me of this…
A building of momentum: the product of velocity and a critical mass
Why make this kind of S P A C E? Well, for one, it’s terribly difficult to host the online workshops now. It’s just too much. Email is work. People hate it. People are busy. No one has time. I’ve heard all the excuses, and heard them again. A year goes by. ‘Not this time, DK!’ Another year. ‘I’m sorry ! I’m just really busy right now with my own things.’ Then, fair enough. Let me, also, become busy with my own things. Let me deepen the connections that are already blooming. Then, let me focus on tending these small and fragile things–relationships–while introducing the ideal into the new equation… the ideal being quality and authentic and genuine connexion. Human connexion, built over time. This is not an ordinary group of people. And this is not an open invitation. You have to have known me for 2+ years now, for this set. It’s crazy, saying that. (With one extraordinary exception: Stacia Yearwood, of PaperPassages and IHopeThisMessageFindsYouWell. Of course. Because she is an immaculate poet. Need beautiful words to express an emotion? Hire this extraordinary talent.) Maybe we’ll see S tonight. S gave me a great poem. And inspired the Epicurus-moment that we’ll be building in 2019, in S P A C E, which will take to the road. (BH, are you reading? BH, you should most certainly be part of this cookie. Seriously.)
It’s like having the kind of party that I most enjoy: gathering the people whose work I admire, whose conversations have inspired me, and whose art is good, for a brief intersection of paths and closing off of other channels so as to focus, notice, and be right here now. So far, three of us have confirmed being there. That means showing up at weird hours so that an international call can work; from Australia to the western edge of N. America, invitees to this poll were going to either say ‘yes’ to the showing up to the call, not knowing what at all might happen, or say ‘no, thanks.’ But since we’re talking about people in S P A C E, and not just regular people I happened to run into yesterday or something, not that that’s bad, I quite like that, too, and ZM and I’d met the day before one of our salons, in London, that was pretty cool, and TE, too, who said, ‘What are you doing tomorrow? I’ll guest list you for my show’ which was by far one of the top 5 I’ve been to (following Sun Ra Arkestra back in Durham NC when they came through, OMG, and a couple others I can’t say out loud here because, they’re personal, and I care about them, and I don’t like oversharing) but I’m getting sidetracked–
–Back on track, the thing is this. It’s different. When you know someone. Trust is there. I’m inviting people only whom I’ve been in close conversations with throughout the last six months or more, mostly in the online spaces of S P A C E forums. ‘Slow Moment,’ for example–and expanding that out into a call in thirty minutes is the idea here. So esoteric. So abstract. So WTF. But so? I’m doing this because these are the people who are like, ‘Okay. What time?’
90% of it is showing up. Since we’ve built relationships and had quality connexion and trust and many, many dates together thinking, writing, conversing, talking, learning, sharing, showing up for each other, and discovering more about all that intrigues us, outside of the normal bounds of ‘this is what we do for work, this is what we do outside of work, this is what I studied’ blah blah who cares what do you think about multiple universes, there, good chap, or have you ever seen the northern lights? That Phish song–always comes to mind–when I think about the northern lights. But the new things, the Book of New Things, is deep influenced by the recent trip up to the northern part of Finland, up, past the Arctic Circle, where, if you hold your breath and hope, you might get a glimpse of them. And yeah, if your eyes are closed, too…
Comments are open. But just for a bit.
New photography by Dipika Kohli, in mostly black and white. All from the Atelier S P A C E series in Finland, and inspired by the amazing guests in DK’s concurrent online programme, ‘Slow Moment.’
That twelve-week sequence designed for people to connect and converge in S P A C E was about: slowing down to ‘see’, journal, note, and ‘be.’ Says DK: ‘How do you do that? Just start.’ Cover photo styled by artist Kathelijne Adriaensen. // DK 2018
PHOTOGRAPHY. DK’s creative director Dipika Kohli began her freelance career in 1998 with a gig for the then Raleigh newspaper, Spectator Magazine. The conversation with editor Stephen Wissink on that first popping in led to a yearlong photography assignment to capture restauranteurs’ best arrangements of plates of salad, desserts, light entrees, and fancy drinks. From there, Dipika continued to take photographs, but began to focus more and more on architectures, and cities. The urban landscape was always her favorite. Two grants from the Japan Foundation had led, in the 1990s, to a 500-picture series, ‘Japanese Lines’. Curating large collections of snippets of 3″x3″ prints, she exhibited these at the N. C. Japan Center. She co-founded DK in 2006 in Seattle, after working as a staff editor and sometime-photographer for the Seattle Daily Journal of Commerce. Special thanks: Kathelijne Adriaensen for artistic inspiration and Benjamin Nwaneampeh for the fun interview we got to do with him for ‘Don’t Just Document, Make Art’, the S P A C E podcast conversation about photography..
The formation of the most perfected words, the most meaningful, the most philosophical, in the fullest sense of the world occurs unfailingly in periods of ignorance and simplicity. The onomathurgical talent is invariably disappearing as we descend towards the civilized and scientific eras. In all the writings that appear in our time on this most interesting subject, there is nothing but an invocation of a philosophical language, and without knowing indeed without suspecting, that the most philosophical language is that in which philosophy is least mingled. The latter lacks too little faculties to create words. Intelligence to invent them, and authority to have them adopted. Does philosophy see a new object? It will go and leaf through its dictionaries to find an ancient or foreign term, and always the enterprise comes to a bad end. Montgolfiere, for example, which is used throughout the country, is correct in at least one sense. And I prefer it to aero state, which is a scientific term but suggests nothing. You could just as well call a ship hydrostatic. Observe the invasion of new words borrowed from the Greek over the last 20 years, gradually, as crimes or madness demanded them. More or less of them are formed erroneously, they are self contradictory. Theophiloanthrophists, for example, is a term more foolish than the thing in itself, which is saying plenty. A simple English or German scholar would have been led to say on the contrary. Theanthpophile. You will reply that this world was invented by wretches in a wretched age, and yet the terminology of chemistry, which was surely created by invited men, begins precisely with the lowest sort of solecism.
When they should say, instead, oxygon.
I am not a chemist, but I have excellent teasons to believe that honest terminology is destined to vanish. The fact remains in all case that from a philosophical and grammatical point of view it would be the most unhappy imaginable if the prize for barbarism were not contested and wrested away by the metric vocabulary.
p. 138-140 from the chapter, ‘The Linguistics of Joseph De Maistre’, Serendipities, Umberto Eco
CHECKING IN. Catching up. Conversing. In real life, on voice, through the space that is the forum ‘Slow Moment,’ and, in this odd but one:many way, through the blog. It was 2006 when the blog began; I remember. I had been to Gnomedex, a bloggers’ conference (HT CP), and while everyone else was on laptops typing and talking on twitter, I think, (‘this is the backchannel conversation,’ someone informed me, educating me on this digital stuff like no one had at my newsroom), I was there with an old-fashioned reporter’s notebook and a pencil. The notebooks had been in the closet in the storeroom at work. Work was a newspaper. A daily. I went daily, to write things. But the things that we were writing had, I saw fully and clearly, no relevance or bearing on this other group of people. The people who were writing what was going on now. In new ways. Ways that I hadn’t been even remotely aware of. Those of you reading who are digital natives, be forgiving. I am ill-adapted to the modern modes of communication, sorry.
THE SUMMER STARTED with just a simple question, ‘What are the threads?’
Telling the stories, sharing the narratives, making the necklace, and developing the voice. All of this happens in the space of conversations. Where you discover something new about, say, someone else, but also, in the process of simply opening up and seeing what you might say to someone you are beginning to get to know, what you find out, too, about yourself.
Art starts when you see it
We’ve been writing quite a lot and thinking even more, but finding out that at the end of these long journeys, sometimes, where you arrive, is where you started. And you are less tired, because along the way of hat along circle of sewing the new pieces, you have let go of dead things and discovered new space. Quality starts with wanting it.
Letting go, moving forward, picking up the new, and arriving at the next. That is where we are. That is what is newly beginning. A freshness, and a richness, and a complexity. Will share everything in the new zine, ‘A Summer Love Story.’
IN A FEW DAYS, I will be starting the salon in our protected-page space, ‘Slow Moment.’ It’s about slowing down. Recharging. Discovering yourself when you make time to show up… for you. No obligations, no ‘to-do’s, and scrapping the idea of ‘getting something accomplished,’ the idea of this particular programme is to let it flow. Flow. So important. I have been talking with people in online conversations for about four months now, setting things up for this special 12-week session. It’s our last online workshop, for the general public, as it just became obvious that for DK, making people be creative isn’t important. What’s important for DK is helping those who have already taken a step, of their own accord, towards some kind of transformative breakthrough. Of course you can’t have a linear path to breakthrough. Or transformative stuff of any kind. Of course it takes work, struggle, sloshing about, tackling vague ideas, throwing most of them away, and starting over, when you recognize that all the work so far has been ‘sketching.’ We call it P L A Y. Playing our way towards the new and the next is what we do around here.
Zining in Finland, Cambodia, et al.
ZINING HAS BEEN, for me personally, a way of slowing down. Zining in Finland, in particular. ‘This is Finland,’ said J., whom I met last night at the pub. ‘We just… be.’ Not bad. I really enjoyed our brief chat outside of the place; karaoke was on inside and it was a thin crowd. I cycled over there with my midnight ride in the pretty-bright-still-but-not-like-before light. Mist was out. Mist. This was what we talked about. Small town life. Passerby. Chance encounters. That’s the stuff of gathering the narratives that make S P A C E the zine; showing up to ask the questions and be prepared for anything is the jazzy jam that is Atelier S P A C E. (If I don’t show up for me, how can I ask others to show up for themselves? So I am living the practice. Go where you don’t know anyone. Find out stuff. Ask them things. Talk to people. Learn. Discover. Find a theme. Then, either with guests who are interested in joining in with you or without them, write a short 8-page zine that pulls together the best of that which you pick up, makes it contemporary, gives it a shape, and then, print some of them, and share them.)
Pubs are third places. They are where we convene. I know, I know. There is an objective, most of the time. Not me. I’m there for the conversations.
Here where I am about six hours north of Helsinki, things are quiet. Conversations are slow and easy. All around is nature—and it’s handy that you can cycle around to get the things you need. Foodstuffs. Provisions. Euros. It’s convenient, small, and just fine. I am not a stranger to small town life; and this stay has got me remembering all the things about Skibbereen and rural North Carolina that I used to really enjoy. End-to-end rainbows, for example. Which I talked about in the past, here on this blog, when ‘A Slow Moment begins’ got writ.
Poetry slams in S P A C E
WRITING MORE. Zining. Making poems with people around the world. ‘Whatever of philosophy is made into poetry is alone timeless.’ These words—I had quoted them in my TEDx talk, ‘There’s Not That Much Time Left.’ Something I haven’t admitted out loud anywhere on the public spaces of the blog is this: I was kind of winging that talk, there, at the end. You have to read your audience, right, and see where the feeling is going. You have to see what fits, what’s working, what’s not. It takes time to build up to that. It’s a long, simple crescendo. You get going and you start and you begin to get the feeling. Here is what’s the story. This is where we’re synching. It’s a jam session, to me—even me on the stage felt like that. I was laughing and enjoying myself with the people in the front rows who were laughing and enjoying themselves with me. (Afterwards, a ‘speechmaker’s consultant’ tried to pitch me, and said, ‘You really don’t want to laugh at your own jokes.’ But for me, for DK, for all he things that have become, since, S P A C E, if I don’t laugh, I’m not having fun, and if I’m not having fun, whatever the hell is the point?’ Of course I didn’t ask him to help me. In fact, that was the last time I got on stage, aside from one other time, in the same city on the same stage, in fact, for ‘Fuzzy Quantum Pop.’ Too fun.)
DG said it: ‘Throw away most of the stuff you write, because you know what? It’s bad. I did that. Do you do that? Throw away most of it?’ I nodded. He said, ‘Good.’ DG is a pianist. I get along with piano people, drummers. Maybe because they like to accompany… words. I am the vocals. I realize this now. Words are my thing. Pen is my medium. Whether lines in marker, or cut lines, or lines worked out somehow (it takes a long time sometimes, but other times comes in bursts, like now, unedited and uninterrupted—a story flows) into poems, or occasional ebooks, I make lines.
Slow moment? For me, bringing the lines into shape. Giving the scaffold in architecture blueprint to the ever-emerging shape of S P A C E. Something to say? Leave a comment, below. Comments are open, until the bots catch on.
DK is making S P A C E, a weekly interactive magazine and an online community for people who are highly engaged with the creative process.