Superfine Fundraiser & Silent Auction for Japan
Thursday, April 14 @ 7pm
126 Front Street in DUMBO

Hey. You there. Heed the info above and frolic down to SUPERFINE this Thursday. All donations and auction proceeds will go to Habitat for Humanity International, specifically their Japan Earthquake and Tsunami Disaster Response efforts. Below are some of the goodies that’ll be on the bidding block.

Thanks to the following businesses and indie designers for their donations:

• Powerhouse Books
• McClure’s Pickles
• Kate Spade New York
• Species by the Thousands
• Kate Durkin
• Dewey’s Candy
• More to come…

There will also be a donations bucket and a few drink specials, thanks to Superfine.

I have some extended family who grew up and live in Sendai and would love for you to open your coin purse for them and their neighbors. For those who know me beyond the digital landscape, I’m moving to San Francisco in a couple of weeks so consider this a fond farewell too.

Say you’ll be there. ♥

And I can see in the smile and the eyes of this blind girl who sculpts Sir Richie’s head out of Play-Doh. So funny.

Originally published on Popten.

Twenty-three nights ago, I arrived in Portland to moonlight as an anthropologist. My mission? To find out if Portlandia exists.

I spied chin beards on boys, glasses on hot girls, and anorexic jeans on both sexes. Might as well have been in Williamsburg, or any city dotting the map of Hipsterdonia. Nay, my quest required extensive research. I had to go deeper.

That’s what he said. (Snap.) My investigation led me into a thicket of locally grown evidence…confirming that the below portrayal is nothing but authentic.

The top ten signs Portlandia is REAL:

10. Urban chickens. Basic and advanced urban chicken keeping classes are in full effect. Hint: It’s free if you purchase a copy of the “Chicken In Every Yard” guide book. Thank me later, I’m late for class.

9. Bird Art. During its annual fundraiser last month, local NPR station OPB offered a canvas tote bag. And guess what…they put a bird on it.

8. Clowning. If I had a dime for every time I heard someone say, “I gave up clowning years ago.” Nobody likes a quitter, especially one with a hand buzzer. Fly to PDX and turn that dirty clown frown right upside down. Register here.

7. Feminism. In Portland, feminists don’t just belong in feminist bookstores. They belong in mother nature.

6. The dream of the ’90s is alive and well. Exhibit A: Those construction barriers won’t stop Goth Tammy or Skinhead Sam from shoppin’ for some Docs.

5. Friendliness. Everyone here is as friendly and concerned as this waitress. It is equal parts refreshing and startling. An old woman on the sidewalk tapped me on the shoulder to let me know she’d be passing. She didn’t want to startle me. (In hindsight, why are the elderly out-walking me?)

4. Dogs. They really are treated better than people in this town. These pup snacks were hotcakes at the Saturday Market.

3. Cats. Felines aren’t far behind on the spoil factor. When’s the last time you bought your lover a hump-worthy catnip body pillow dildo? Exactly.

2. Nests. Humans here build bird nests in their spare time.

1. Organiclocalsustainableveganglutenfreedeliciousdidimentionlocal? Where else can you grab an organic pesto pizza roll, organic local stuffed squash with organic millet pilaf, organic local roasted roots, two organic gluten free vegan gravies (one uses local ‘shrooms!!), organic local green chili enchilada pie, AND wash it all down with a gluten-free beer, all in one shop?

The proof, as they say, is in the pudding. In this case it’s local. Welcome to Portland.

Certain artists are typecast, sometimes by choice. They capture a style so well that it comes to define them. Author Jonathan Safran Foer falls outside of that camp with a chameleonic thud. He keeps us curious.

In his new book, Tree of Codes, Foer does with a physical book what we often neglect in digital—he turns reading into an experience. In showing how a story’s environment affects its meaning, he gives digital storytellers a slap in the face.

Tree of Codes, breaks from the standard book format in two ways:

1. It creates a new story by tearing apart and piecing together an old one—Bruno Schulz’s The Street of Crocodiles.
2. Each page is die-cut to reveal just a handful of words and phrases.

I found the book annoying to read at first, despite its delicate beauty. I couldn’t decipher between the page I was reading and the ones beneath it. It was like a depth perception test following a mug of bourbon.

After sobering up and finding a better technique, I enjoyed the layout. Words hovered in a dream-ridden state. Thought went into each line, each phrase and how it was laid out. Such attention to the UX of reading is tough to find on the web. Foer’s analog approach would be easy enough to toy with in digital. So why aren’t we more playful with narratives online?

Brilliant writing isn’t enough to keep readers happy. Long blocks of copy, no matter how poetic, are begging for attention spans to scamper off elsewhere. In a design dominant field, it’s easy to neglect voice, tone, even punctuation. Or to forget about how each will figure into a broader environment.

Maybe that’s because we get swept up in technology. We use it to tell stories rather than to shape them. The following ideas and executions use technology to influence how stories are read. Bravo! The better ones put UX at the forefront. In doing so, they offer some lessons in communicating creatively.

• We Tell Stories: Bring physical location into the narrative.
• Telescopic Text: Let the reader decide what information to absorb.
• TextArc: Represent text visually.
• The Sweet Old Etcetera: Make static literature kinetic. There are lots more eLiterature exampleshere.
• Open Bookmarks: Consider the selfish benefits to social reading.
• Ben the Bodyguard: Communicate utility via a character.
• @RuthBourdain: Mix vinegar and oil. Hilarity ensues. (Perhaps a bit off the mark, but a good demo of re-imagining existing voices.)

These concepts and methods fool with language, narrative and technology to entertain. It’s humbling to think that a few pieces of paper and an X-Acto knife can do the same.

When we leave room for interpretation and delight, we can expand the playground for digital fiction. We can turn stories into experiences that are unique to each reader. So let’s stop neglecting the goddamn words. Pretty please?

Thanks to Google Chrome, Virgin America passengers got to fly with free wifi during the winter 2010 holiday season. BBH was charged with promoting this offer and communicate it just before take-off. We extended the charm of Virgin’s animated in-flight safety video, bringing the gadget-toting nun into the spotlight. You can watch the video here.

In an effort to educate computer users of a certain age and help them become tech savvy, Google created an online book: 20 Things I Learned About Browsers and the Web. To promote the book, I worked with BBH NY to develop a series of online banners and print ads for the New York Times and other major publications. The ads relied on curiosity and simplicity—as well as Christoph Niemann’s charming illustrations—to introduce complex topics like cloud computing and phishing.

No. I don’t work for Ocean Spray. I just love cranberries, and my cranberry harvesting dreams have come true thanks to my new friends at the Rocky Bog in Dennis, Cape Cod. They strapped me (and Jenny and Brian) in some leaky waders (theirs didn’t leak) and put us to work. It was all quite fanastic:

The autumn wind whipped us, but not in a slave-like manner. It was crisp, almost gentle. Once the bog was flooded, the berries floated to the surface. This was thanks to a farmer and his “water beater” which is the machine that plucks berries from their vines.

As we hiked up our waders, those already at work used long rubber tubes to corral the berries. They were cowboys with lassoes, and the berries were tiny and confused ponies. Scattered, no more.

Meanwhile, a semi-truck pulled up next to the bog. That was our cue to enter the abyss, for we had a truck to fill.

We would use our metal brooms to push the berries into the center of the corral. At the center, a long tube, reminiscent of that scary scene in E.T., extended from bog to truck and sucked the fruit up in its path. Near the end of the journey, a machine separated the berries from the vines and gunk.

Our arms grew tired, but encouragement pushed us forth. In the distance, a land-bound Bostonian shouted: Round ‘em up, fellahs! We got hot corn chowdah and pumpkin bread for yah. Just the words we needed to press on.

The berries grew redder throughout the afternoon…so pretty. My waders leaked like an overly caffeinated elephant, but what a day. And now I’ve got some fine cranberry jam in the kitchen.

As a Milwaukee native, I found this change jarring. But the worst was yet to come, as displayed below in my calculation of the brand acquisition:

The equation, broken down, looks something like this.

Step 1: You take the blue Midwest Airlines logo and mix it with yellow, resulting in Frontier’s green color scheme.

Step 2: Multiply the scenario by half a dozen frisky animals (like Larry the Lynx and Flip the Dolphin), imperative to Frontier’s branding and fleet of air carriers.

Step 3: Delete half the cookies and take away their warmth. To explain…Midwest Airlines is known for its signature “baked on board” chocolate chip cookies. Every customer receives two, with melting morsels aplenty. But on a recent Frontier flight, I received one lone cookie—and it was straight out of the cooler. So Frontier has cut the supply in half and ditched the easy bake oven, at least for now. A recent tweet from @MidwestAirlines promises to reintroduce the warm cookies soon.

Fingers crossed.