I subscribe to the philosophy set forth by the CCDA.
I love this tongue-in-cheek primer on how and how not to practice place-based community design.
I love On Being’s virtuous approach to better (more civil) conversations.
I’ve made a list of lessons that seem to be standing the test of time.
People are our community’s greatest assets. Teachers. Poets. Pastors. Politicians. Artists. Biologists. Mechanics. Mailmen. Human ingenuity is an incredible thing. When we call forth the unique gifts we see in our neighbors, we watch with amazement as our fellow citizens become increasingly inclined to take action on the causes they care about most. Time and time again, I see how engagement on the individual level serves as a precursor that drives lasting transformation. While the complexity of city challenges seem to demand wide-scale reactions, it’s valuable to recognize that efforts towards systems change and neighborhood renewal start small—in human hearts. This is slow, humbling work that begins with handshakes and eye contact, grows from consistent and compassionate rhythms, and sustains with intentional and continual care, one person, one relationship at a time, over and over again.
In today’s economy we’ve become accustomed to instant everything. Our groceries show up on our doorstep, our ride downtown arrives in 5-minutes, our favorite movies are two clicks away on a device in our pocket. But community is different—it’s a process not a product. Cultivating healthy communities takes time and tenacity. We don’t “deliver” community to people—instead, we shape it together. Nobody wants to be a project. Charity this is not.
Good ideas require good timing. What made sense five years ago may no longer work today. Similarly, what works today may need retooling down the tracks. (There’s a reason people joke about shredding a business plan before the ink dries.) Some projects benefit from a predetermined shelf life. Knowing when to stop can be just as important as knowing when to start. Longevity grows from a willingness to reflect, evaluate with honesty, evolve, adapt, and (sometimes) stop.
Ernest Hemingway was known for his rigorous editing, meticulously removing word after word from his manuscripts. The result was a concise handling of the English language, devoid of superfluous expressions. Simplifying written and visual communication helps make information approachable and accessible to a wider audience. That’s my general philosophy as a writer and designer. Pie-charts, platitudes, and industry jargon rarely changes hearts...but your story might. Let’s uncover it together.
Real estate is increasingly available in desk-size parcels at a co-working space near you. Be that as it may, if you build it, they won’t necessarily come. Shaping spaces for connection and community—“third space” is common parlance—requires an understanding of how physical features impact human experience. Furniture choices, lighting decisions, ceiling height, private vs. public zones, music—it all matters. It’s all designed, which leads to...
Everyone has their own definition of “good” design. After all, we are aesthetically sensitive people, living in a highly designed world, given the power to choose from an endless sea of brands, products, and ideas all designed to cater to our unique desires. That means every brand you support, product you buy, and idea you digest was intentionally shaped by someone to appeal to your “unique” taste. Somebody thought about the contour of your toothbrush handle. Someone chose to make the pattern on your socks a diamond shape. Someone made the decision to paint your favorite park bench green and someone else decided to place it under that perfect tree. But, alas, design is about much more than form and function. Design is about making meaning. And since humans want to know that their lives have meaning, design matters. Design is a tool to transform the way people engage the world—for better or worse. Make it count.
We humans in the Western world are accustomed to doing everything in our own strength—at a speed which is not sustainable, with a standard of perfection that is not attainable. What if there’s a better way? And what if that way moves us towards real human flourishing—for ourselves and for our communities? What if that way means partnering with (gasp!) God? I believe that God is alive in the world on an active mission to make all things new. God is in charge; we join him as imperfect co-conspirators on the adventure. This requires us to humbly set aside our desire to control, to fix, and to save…by ourselves. Somehow, in this posture of openness and obedience, we begin to see how our human longings—for joy, justice, beauty, and belonging—align with God’s longings, and how our gifts and skills can be a part of advancing goodness and love in the world. This gives our lives—and our work—boundless purpose and deep meaning, every day.