Topic

Writing

A collection of 304 issues

On inspiring and inspiration.

Today I received an email asking for a letter of recommendation for someone in a not so far gone past life. This someone was nominated for an award, and a mutual contact asked me to write a kind word. "But don't mention this," she implored. "

The eldest.

My sister Megan, 1970-something. Purgatory ski resort, just north of Durango, CO. This morning, when I liberally applied my new Lush conditioner, the smell reminded me of my sister, Megan. I don’t know what it was. Maybe the chalky orangeness of it. Maybe the woodsy sweetness in it. Whatever

Write, then.

I am inspired by Orangette. I want to write. I really do. And what this means is that I need to start writing every day. Even if it’s just a paragraph. But speaking of paragraphs, I now hate how the ones on this blog look. Thanks to Ellen Lupton,

White space and the city.

My post using Omm Writer – beautiful white space for writing in. I have always, always loved snow, having spent most of my childhood knee-deep in it. So this recent post on Design Observer about snow, cities, and white space deeply resonated with me. The author talks about snow as the

Grungi frutti.

Near Fell's Point in Baltimore, on my way back from taking Michaela to work. She's learning to drive. I figure the East Coast is a good place to learn how to drive defensively, as long as you don't get killed in the process. East

Brew bar.

via www.flickr.com On our trip to Philly on Saturday, we found – just by chance while walking from Independence Hall to Rittenhouse Square – this great little espresso bar on Spruce Street; Spruce Street Espresso. They had on their shelves coffee cups from several Seattle coffee houses, so we knew

He rushed.

via www.flickr.com This is outside a market on Spruce Street in Philadelphia. I took Michaela and her new boyfriend there for her birthday. We had a great time. Having just finished Jane Jacobs The Death and Life of Great American Cities, it was great to be able to

Cities and the quiet interface.

She walked by just as I was taking the shot. This little old lady next to the tall, glass, modern building in SOHO, filled with architects sitting down for a presentation, those builders and definers of the urban space. While in New York last week, my senses were heightened of

Urban interaction.

In my ongoing thinking about the city as an interface – as an operating system, if you will, of this thing we call Earth – I picked up a book I bought while in grad school: Universal Principles of Design. It lists a multitude of various design elements and principles to consider

The white box.

"The box is under the seat," I thought as I situated myself between my sisters in the back seat of the Volkswagen. I could not see the box, but I knew it was there. Unseen, like an abandoned thought, but still, its presence was tangible. Its presence was