kid with aspergers interviews his mom

This is animation set to a real interview: a 12-year old boy with Aspergers interviews his mom. What a great conversation. What thoughtful questions. What a mom!

Posted via email from s@lly l-j

progress

"The fatal metaphor of progress, which means leaving things behind us, has utterly obscured the real idea of growth, which means leaving things inside us." 

G K Chesteron

wow. what, I wonder, would he have to say to us today about what we're up to?

maybe that all this busy connecting on twitter, facebook etc--if not kept in check--is in danger of leaving us more disconnected?

that all this "socializing" leaves us less social?

that all these "conversations" leaves us less able to communicate?

that listening to all the chatter leaves us less able to hear anything?

that calling our thousands of connections "friends" devalues friendship which is one of the most rare and precious gifts we are given?

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David Suchet narrates: "Let's Go!"

Do U love Teachers? Do U love kids?

Have you seen the trailer for WAITING FOR SUPERMAN? 

YES and YES and YES!

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Beatle activated corgi

How did he decide it was only a Liverpudlian accent that would do? (Also: loving the one ear up one down look)

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being copied + when to cry

Guiliana Camerino died today in Venice. The handbags she designed (sold under the Roberta Di Camerino label) dangled off the arms of Grace Kelly, and Elizabeth Taylor in the 50s and 60s. Fancy doctors satchels someone called them. Beautiful is what I call them. Want one. Now please thank you.

Her story reads like a novel. Born in Venice to a prominent Jewish family, she dreamed of becoming a theatrical costume designer. She escaped to Switzerland during World War 2, where, as a refugee needing a handbag and money, made her own. Soon afterwards, a swiss woman riding with her on the bus bought the handbag right off her shoulder. Which is how it all began.

Her bags were widely copied--consciously or unconsciously--by loads of other designers. The senior buyer at Barneys described the shock of looking at Roberta Di Camerino's archive: "Every handbag I had ever seen had already been done by her years before."

Gucci's lattice of G's (she did it in 1946); Bottega Veneta's woven leather (she did it in 1957); Prada's articulated frame (she did it in 1964).

This copying bothered Camerino at first. She says:

"When I was only doing bags, I found it particularly important to be always very well dressed, so I became a client of Chanel. Once in a fitting she saw me crying because someone had copied a bag which I had done exclusively for Neiman Marcus. 'You must not cry now,' Coco said. 'You cry the day they don't copy you.' "

via NYT

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messy desks & genius minds

Albert Einstein's Princeton desk (taken 1955 hours before his death).

Artist John Currin speaking about the process of painting said: 

"... a big part of painting is getting used to things not looking good while you're working on them."

(The exact opposite of that hateful saying "a tidy desk is a sign of a tidy mind" or whatever it is. I prefer a messy desk is a sign of a genius.)

(Can it apply to other areas, I wonder? Like a tip of a kitchen is the sign of a fabulous chef? A mess of a garden is a sign of a brilliant horticulturist? OK. Enough. Stop it.)

Getting used to things not looking good while you're working on them. For me that's when your working on an early draft--say of a picture book--and if you are worrying about how it looks you will clamp down, cramp up and get small and stiff and boring.

You have to keep it playful and messy and far too long. And let it be that way. And be patient. Knowing that when it's time you'll know what belongs and what doesn't. The book will tell you. But if you force it, if you try and tidy it up before it's time, you might be tidying away the best bits. You might be killing it.

Like weeding when you don't know what's a weed or a flower--disastrous. It might be all lovely and clean and tidy and, in the end, just a garden of tidy weeds.

A picture book is like a seed. It grows but in its own time. You can't rush it. You just have to keep showing up each day. Watering it. Tilling the soil. Like a good gardener. And not for too long. For me that's not more than 2-3 hours for an early draft (after that I start unraveling everything I've done because that's the time the chopper and cutter and efficient weeder editor person takes over).

Getting used to things not looking good. That's also something about trust and faith. Following clues. Knowing you're not making it up so much as discovering it. And for that you must be open. There. And listening.

Getting used to things not looking good. Would that include yourself when you're in the middle of creating? Probably. Is that why some writers look a little bit disheveled?

See the full gallery on posterous

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David Suchet narrates: Heaven Breaks Through!

(no need to add a code, just hit ENTER and it'll play)

Posted via email from jsb