Welcome to W O R K

In the last few days, we began to ask a couple of people if they were curious about talking together in an online forum, on the topic of W O R K. Enough said ‘yes’ to make it *happen*. So…

This week, we have begun the journey in a set of protected pages, on this website. That’s what all the protected page posts are, if you were wondering. We’re talking together, but not in public forums, because we want to keep the circle small, cozy… intimate. You talk about the things that matter the most, and you don’t want to blab to the whole wide internet about them.

What makes for good, quality ‘work’?, this began with. In some really fascinating threads over the last three years here (behind the scenes, in protected-page posts), I have learned one hell of a lot about this, and especially, what my guests and partners in these conversations have had to say.

Things go back a ways, for example, when we were in Durham NC, DK’s Akira Morita had hosted a conversation forum that was called re (WORK).

Here’s a pic.


re(WORK) the open space hosted by Akira Morita in Durham NC when DK was based there. From left: Beck Tench, Rob Petrusz, Victor Jimenez (standing), Carter Cue, Alice Williams. The location is: Bull City Coworking. Photo: Laura Hamlyn / August 2012.

While it’s great and awesome to be able to get together in real life for conversations, sometimes people are just in very different parts of the world whom we are interested in gathering together in space. So that’s why we do the online conversations. We want to connect, and interconnect, a very wide range of perspectives so that we can learn from each other and discover new inputs.

What is ‘work’?

Well let’s just get right to it, shall we?

What is work, anyway?

That’s the focus.

This exact, narrow query.

From DK:

‘What is the future of work, that’s a different question, and a favorite of some of the people whom I used to know, back in Seattle, when we sat around with our super remote and super design-your-own-day style of working, whether over Belgian beers at Stumbling Monk at Designers’ Korner, say, or over coffee at Top Pot on Summit Avenue, which was just down the street from one of the offices I used to rent, on Olive Way. It was so good, those days of being in the space of playfulness and learning, together.

‘I still remember when LS came by to one of the ‘Dream Kitchen’ lunch sessions. I remember how he said some things that really resonated with me, and had heard about the event, somehow, I think through the newspaper maybe or some other spot, I swear, I have no idea, but then, years later, sitting in a house in the north of Finland, I suddenly remembered it.

‘How it felt to receive new people from ‘the internet’ to my office, welcome them to the conference room table, share coffee or tea or whatever, and then just… talk. We talked then in that session about what our dreams were outside of work. It was… great. To have a chance to hear out what people were feeling and thinking, but just for a time, and then everyone went along on their own, separate journeys. I wrote to LS out of the blue, more than a decade later, hoping I spelled his name correctly and hoping he was the only one who had that gmail address. Surprisingly, I got through. He wrote right back and asked me what I was thinking, where I was, how I was doing, and I did the same. Our journeys went in many directions, of course, in separate phases, but hell, what a cool thing it was to have heard someone say, ‘I remember that conversation.’

‘Really?

‘Wow.

‘But: come to think of it, I remember, too. Which is exactly why the words ‘Hit the high note’ came back to me, all these years later. LS said, on the call that we had, that they weren’t his words, but he was quoting. Didn’t matter: the feeling of wanting to raise the bar never left me, and ‘hit the high note’ expressed it so very clearly, so very well.

‘I remember a lot of them. Not all, of course. And I get to hear so many of them, day by day, because of the design intention that it took all these years to crystallize. Optimizing for the ‘a-ha’ moment–I can tell you more about this.

‘I have a lot more to say.

‘And so do our guests, I imagine, too.

‘Let’s get to it.

‘Let’s go.

‘I’m gonna share more when I’m ready, about the new things beginning, thanks in large part to SJ. It’s cool. I’m jazzed. It’s… flowing.’

Be a part of the conversations

We’re going to get started soon. I’m sending the pre-start homework out this weekend. Ask us anything, if you are curious, through the form at the end of this page. If there’s enough interest, we’ll do a real-life version of this, somewhere in Vietnam, in the early part of September.

True ‘cost,’ true value of a thing, according to HD Thoreau

Ask about W O R K

The Art of Not Knowing || Atelier S P A C E pre-event

A conversation salon for just a handful of people at ‘the blue hour.’ Read more about it at the event page, here.

THE BLUE HOUR is the time after the sun goes below the horizon and the sky goes into deep blue for a while. That’s the magic hour: it’s a photographer’s dream. Join Design Kompany and photographers for a low-key conversation salon. It’ll be held at an intimate venue with no more than 8 people. This is a pre-event for the 10-12 November Atelier S P A C E || Singapore, so we’ll play one of that programme’s light conversation salon style Surrealist parlor games, which is called ‘Art of Not Knowing.’ (Plus, get a sneak peek of our mini art installation, ‘The Prospect of Beauty.’)

Let’s talk about the magic moments in life, about uncertainty. Nostalgia, relationships, mementos. How we remember them, or choose to let them go. Meet us at the blue hour at a *secret meetpoint* at the National Gallery. An agenda outlining what you can expect and specifically where we’ll be convening will be shared by email through Eventbrite with registered guests *only.*

Advance tickets only.

Very limited seats (Max 8).

Questions?

Contact A. Spaice on insta or through the form at this page.