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Psst. Wanna hear some lectures on marketing?

Tonight at 6:45 p.m., I return to CCAD for the first of a dozen weekly lectures on consumer behavior.

Come. This is your invitation.

There are 100 students registered for the class and it will be taught in a big, comfortable auditorium, so you can just blend in. Each class is only 75 minutes. You could come tonight, any Monday, or every Monday.

Don't be shy. I would love to have you there.

(Usually there are about a dozen Net Cotton Content readers who attend. Nice!)

Let me know if you are coming, and I will send you a map to the specific location.

Ye Olde Rut
I taught this course for years, years ago at CCAD. As one student wrote:

“The course was high-energy, optimistic, full of humor and most importantly: informative. It was one of the few courses that just about everyone who took it not only looked forward to the next lesson, but recommended it to their colleagues as well.”

But, I left after hearing this thought about teaching:

If you are teaching the same thing the same way for more than five years, then you lack either ambition or imagination.

(I think this might have come from Noam Chomsky.)

I was indeed stuck in a rut.

The students were generous and appreciative. But I was teaching the same thing, in the same way, year after year. The PowerPoint slides were so ready, I would just show up and let 'em rip.

So it was time to go away.

The Course Is Sound
Over time, I'd designed the course to help artists:

• Make work that is more than beautiful. The course helps the artist think through the work, so it persuades others and changes behavior.
• Justify each piece of work as more than beautiful. The course helps the artist describe work to executives in the workplace, to win more production budget for, say, the photography.

The legendary CCAD education — especially its intensive first year, "Foundation" — expertly develops each artist's technical skills.

But having hired dozens of CCAD graduates at Young Isaac, I have seen too many who are riding solely on their technical proficiency. They do have highly developed hands and eyes — but aren't always levering their minds.

That's where this class comes in.

Bridging The Gap
After years of helping CCAD artists win the favor of businesspeople in the workplace, I've been teaching MBA candidates about creativity. This has me building the same bridge — over the creative gap — from the other side.

Now, with my MBA experiences, I'm really enjoying re-meeting the artists at CCAD.

And you. Coming?

Round Trip

Several years ago, I was sightseeing in the beloved Negev Desert. Our group had paused in a heavily visited wadi — where passers-by had left thousands of cigarette butts.  

Disappointed by the litter, I asked our Israeli tourguide, "Why doesn't Israel do something about all this litter?"

He looked down at the mess, as if he'd never really seen it before. "Litter?" he asked. "Right. We should do something about it. And it's on our list. But there are other things we have to get done first. Litter is not at the top of the list."

That's easy enough to understand. Higher up on the agenda are the existential challenges.

Same Here
My commute downtown this morning isn't the Mideast Peace Challenge.

But there are many expectations of me and I'm favoring the existential ones.

You see, I'll be on a bicycle.

What Expectations?
The law, the automobile drivers, and — especially — the local bicyclists who advocate for mutual respect on the road want me to stay in the street, on the right, and stop at traffic lights and (I suppose) stop signs.

They want me to follow all the laws as if I were driving a car.

Even Doug Morgan gives me disapproving puppy-lawyer eyes when I ask if he really thinks I need to follow the traffic laws. "What you are doing is, of course, wrong," said Doug when I described my standard bicycling procedures, which are indeed, of course, wrong. 

What I'm Doing
I ride guided by the following priorities, in order of my obedience:

1. Maximize my personal safety and the safety of others.
2. Obey traffic laws.

The traffic laws are important, but — with the order of my priorities — I will always choose personal safety and that of others over traffic laws.

Some Laws Were Made For Obeying
I hereby promise to follow the laws of physics: gravity, centrifugal force, momentum, and center of balance.

I also promise to follow the laws of etiquette. I will stop, dismount, and walk my bike whenever I am anywhere near a pedestrian. That's just simple courtesy. I will signal my intentions to all.

But Some Laws Might Get Me Killed (This Morning).
The law that I ride in the street might get me killed.

We all know how distracted drivers (including me) can be. 

The clearest view of this sad state of affairs is from the handlebars of a bicycle. About half of all drivers are surprised to see me, because they are erstwhile occupied with sipping, tuning, reading, navigating, texting, singing, thinking, eating, picking, and — oh, yes, with whatever cranial capacity remains — operating a one-ton assembly of steel, rubber and glass.

I have almost been struck by several cars, driven by people who either never saw me or lost their momentary focus on my safety. (In their list of priorities, I am not much higher than "3. Don't drive over the dead skunk.")

(For more on automotive safety, read Malcolm Gladwell on automotive safety.)

Where People Are Killed
I once told our kids, when they were playing near the street, the following statistics as quickly I made them up:

 

Ninety-five percent of kids killed by cars are killed in the street. Five percent are killed in the first 10 feet of the lawn or on the driveway. None of them are killed when they are upstairs in the house.

Where I am on my bike has a lot to do with the probability of survival. 

You will find me on the sidewalk. Or in intersections that are empty, even if I am crossing against a signal, if that's what is safest for me. 

I live a fairly legal life. Feel free to call me inconsistent. I also teach ethics. Feel free to call me an annoying fraud.

Beloved Cinema

Suddenly, I'm reviewing movies for our local independent art cinema, the Drexel. My occasional reviews appear on their website.

Here's my review of WIN WIN, starring Paul Giamatti, whose father I met a couple times. (That's described in the review, including a letter his father wrote me.)

I don't know much about movies, except I did take a History of Film course at Yale, wherein the professor [name withheld] claimed to have slept with Francois Truffaut.

"So I got that goin' for me, which is nice."
— Carl Spackler, Caddyshack (1980)

When Life Comes Together

It's the very meaning of "home game."

When you know the place, the people, the message. You are wearing the right clothing. Everything you know is displayed for all to see.

More Than That
No one else could do what you are doing. At least: not in the same way.

You are doing something that only you could do.

This just happened big for me.
Everything came together a couple weeks.

I was invited to speak to the Upper School — that's like "high school," but much more expensive — at my alma mater, The Columbus Academy.

So I faced several hundred of the most demanding citizens of central Ohio.

They were quite generous with me.
I'm glad.

Click here for the video. Happily, the school administration cut out the truly inappropriate parts.

Are you doing only those things that only you can do?

Where To Go?

When you woke up this morning, you had a vision for the day.

That vision was partly expressed in the places you might visit.

A coffee shop? A cinema? A friend's home? The Museum of Art? The Franklin Park Conservatory?

Our Days Are Shaped By Where We Go
How nice to be able to go just about anywhere. You are reading the Interwebs today, so you must be rich enough to have places to go.

I'm glad for you. And grateful for myself.

Still, There Are Limits
W.H. Auden wrote:

Private faces in public places
Are wiser and nicer than
Public faces in private places.

While that's Audenian good fun, there is more than a ring of truth to it.

What If You Have No Place To Go
You might have a roof over your head. Barely. You might come from deprivation.

You might get watched closely at the bookstore, to the point where you just don't feel welcome. You feel like a public face in a private place.

What becomes of a person who doesn't know the luxury — or is it a basic need? — of having a few places to visit today?

Here's A Place For Kids Who Might Otherwise Have No Place
Let's explore the Ohio Avenue Youth Center, recently renovated by the courageous and talented folks at Directions For Youth & Families.

I love the DFY&F folks because they help young people establish their footing in life.

Why don't you join met at an Open House at the Ohio Avenue Youth Center this week?

Here is your invitation:

Thursday, February 17th
5 p.m. - 7 p.m. (tours throughout, a 15-minute program at 6 p.m.)
657 South Ohio Avenue, Columbus, OH 43205

Your face will be most welcome.

Last Roll of 2010 (your official invitation)

New Year's Eve: when a young man's fancy turns to bowling.

My Lifelong Belief: Every great year includes some bowling.

Status for 2010: You haven't bowled yet this year.

So it's come to this...

Plan: We are going bowling before nightfall on New Year's Eve.

Why before nightfall?
Because I leave nighttime on New Year's Eve to the professionals. I am strictly amateur. (I'm an aspiring bowler, like I'm an aspiring actor. I hit some of the pins; sometimes they fall down.)

You are invited.
But it's not much of an invitation. You'll pay for your own food, beverages, and shoes. Or you can just watch. (Available Light is paying for the lanes. Perhaps you'll make a year-end donation. There will be no solicitation.)

Some snacks will be provided. (You can buy more if you like. Ten Pin Alley has a very nice kitchen. Really.) You can buy your own drinks.

When: Friday, December 31, 2010, 3 p.m. We will clear out of there by 5 p.m., leaving you time for your glamorous Eve plans.

Where: Ten Pin Alley & Spike's. Here are directions to 5499 Constitution Blvd., Hilliard. (614) 876-2475

RSVP: Please RSVP to Emily Rhodes (emilyerhodes@yahoo.com) with:
1) the total number in your party, and...
2) whether or not you prefer bumpers.

Emily says: "We have 10 lanes this year, so there is plenty of room for everyone! The first hour of bowling is on Available Light. Shoes, food, drinks, and additional time is on you. Come and go as you please, and feel free to bring any and all ages along. We'd love to see you as we roll in a new year and bid a fond farewell to an award-winning one!"

Those awards? They were for Available Light in the theatre, not you in bowling. As far as we know. Sorry.

Why Bowling?

1. Bowling is America's #1 participation sport. We bowl, not only because we are Americans. We bowl so that we may be Americans. If bowling were a holiday, it would be Thanksgiving, the American holiday.
2. Bowling is a wonderful physics experiment. Through bowling, we learn about inertia and the exertion of force. We are reminded, tangibly, that our actions have consequences.
3. Bowling is a wonderful psychology experiment. Through bowling, we learn about emotional inertia and the exertion of psychic energy. Again, we are reminded, tangibly, that our actions have consequences.

Bowling? If so, let Emily know.

A Day of Creativity

How are you strengthening your creativity?

Is it worth study, work, investment?

Many of you have asked, "May I take your creativity class?"

Until now, the frustrating answer has been, "No." The room is full and Ohio State doesn't allow unregistered auditors.

But now the answer is "Yes."
Because — now — here's a creativity class for you.

For the past six months, I've been working with friends at The Columbus Museum of Art on a one-day creativity program.

Here are the details:

Creativity In Your Life
(a one-day program for everyone)
Thursday, October 14th, 8:30 a.m. - 3 p.m.

Featuring:

• a keynote speech on creativity by Pulitzer Prize winning novelist Michael Chabon.
• a panel conversation exploring the creativity of Liz Lessner (creator of several local restaurants, including the best new restaurant of the year according to Columbus Underground) and Pete Scantland (whose Orange Barrel Media has transformed outdoor advertising into delightful landmarks in Columbus and across the nation).
• a presentation of seven ideas I recommend for keeping your brain sharp, combating our daily tumult and aging.
• a planning session for you to develop a one-year curriculum for your personal creative development.
• and LUNCH. Lunch is included!
• And your choice of four breakout sessions on topics from: how to brainstorm to the latest offerings of the Museum.

Sounds good? (Want to watch my hour-long conversation with Ann Fisher and her listeners on All Sides With Ann Fisher on WOSU 820 AM?)

What do you think this might cost you?
The Museum and I priced this so our friends could afford it.

What would it be worth to come — and expand your mind (just when your mind is hoping for a little expansion)? How much will you intentionally invest this year in your continuing personal creative development?

(And lunch.)

If you are office-bound, what might your company be willing to pay for you to attend? Or, perhaps, for you and your entire team to attend?

Do you have a price in mind? Good.

I bet the price on the ticket information page is lower than what you have in mind.

Behind You With Soup

Joe Blundo is so talented, so prolific, and such a nice guy. A mensch.

We had a chat at Katzinger's Delicatessen on Friday, before my last shift at my summer job. (Actually, it was more of a summer internship, because there was a vast gulf between my scant knowledge and the deep expertise of my co-workers.)

Anyway, we chatted. I showed Joe around. He stood around being Joe. I introduced him to my co-workers as my own summer intern. 

 (I regret that. Afterward, one co-worker said, swooning, "Hey, that was JOE BLUNDO! I love Joe Blundo!" I should have introduced Joe properly. I think I was awkward with embarrassment.)

Then, Joe put this story in his beloved "So To Speak" column in today's Columbus Dispatch: "Unusual Intern Savors Slice of Life at Deli."

Thank you so much, Joe. For what you wrote. And for what you omitted. 

(And for introducing me to Octavian Cantilli.)

Photo credits: OCTAVIAN CANTILLI, Columbus Dispatch

Psst. Wanna hear some lectures on marketing?

Next Monday, August 30th, at 6:45 p.m., I return to CCAD for the first of a dozen weekly lectures on consumer behavior.

Come. This is your invitation.

There are 100 students registered for the class and it will be taught in a big, comfortable auditorium, so you can just blend in. Each class is only 75 minutes. You could come to this first Monday, any Monday, or every Monday.

Don't be shy. I would love to have you there.

(About a dozen folks accept this invitation each semester. Nice!)

Let me know if you are coming, and I will send you a map to the specific location.

Ye Olde Rut
I taught this course for years, years ago at CCAD. As one student wrote:

“The course was high-energy, optimistic, full of humor and most importantly: informative. It was one of the few courses that just about everyone who took it not only looked forward to the next lesson, but recommended it to their colleagues as well.”

But, I left after hearing this thought about teaching:

If you are teaching the same thing the same way for more than five years, then you lack either ambition or imagination.

(I think this might have come from Noam Chomsky.)

I was indeed stuck in a rut.

The students were generous and appreciative. But I was teaching the same thing, in the same way, year after year. The presentation slides were so ready, I would just show up and let 'em rip.

So it was time to go away.

The Course Is Sound
Over time, I'd designed — and now redesigned — the course to help artists:

• Make work that is more than beautiful. The course helps the artist think through the work, so it persuades others and changes behavior.
• Justify each piece of work as more than beautiful. The course helps the artist describe work to executives in the workplace, to win more production budget for, say, the photography.

The legendary CCAD education — especially its intensive first year, "Foundation" — expertly develops each artist's technical skills.

But having hired dozens of CCAD graduates at Young Isaac, I have seen too many who are riding solely on their technical proficiency. They do have highly developed hands and eyes — but aren't always levering their minds.

That's where this class comes in.

Bridging The Gap
After years of helping CCAD artists win the favor of businesspeople in the workplace, I've been teaching MBA candidates about creativity. This has me building the same bridge — over the creative gap — from the other side.

Now, with my MBA experiences, I'm really enjoying re-meeting the artists at CCAD.

And you. Coming?

Running Reubens

Today, I'm returning for my second weekly shift at Katzinger's Delicatessen. I will bring your sandwich to your table between 11 a.m. and 1:30 p.m. today.

Of course, now that I have already worked a full two-and-a-half-hour shift — last Friday at lunch — I am An Expert On All Things Delicatessen, Food Service, And Culinary.

To wit, I shall now share some of my observations:

• "Delicatessen" is different. As we drive around our wasteland, we see all sorts of small sandwich shops that call themselves "deli." No! If knifing mayonnaise on corned beef (please don't do that) makes you a deli, then I'm the Duke of Cornbread. A delicatessen is much more complex and requires much more expertise (and inventory) than your local sandwichmonger. Keep driving. To here. And please don't call Katzingers a "deli." It's a delicatessen.
• On that note, you have no idea how expert the people are behind the counter. Look at your sandwich. Consider your expectations. Now calculate your happiness. That isn't easy to achieve, sandwich after sandwich. These folks are grabbing, weighing, piling, toasting, schmearing, wrapping, and so much more at an unconscious pace. (And pretty darn cheerfully, I might add with admiration. Your Reuben has good karma.) You simply can't imagine the skill, experience and care that is going into your #11. And the folks at the cheese counter know more about cheese than I do about my own children. (Then again, I've never sliced my children.)
• Pickles are expensive food. Busing tables, I see that some folks have taken pickles as if they were building a centerpiece. The rule is simple: take one pickle from the barrel with your sandwich. No sandwich? No pickle. Eat the pickle. All the way to the end. You think they grow on trees? (Uh, maybe they do.) Doesn't matter. They cost upwards of 50¢ each, so eat the damn pickle. Didn't your mother tell you about wasting food? There's a difference between free and a gift. This is a gift. Don't be a pig.
• Speaking of expense, these high-priced sandwiches are a bargain. Think about it. If the same ingredients were spread all over a plate, instead of on a slice of bread (trucked in daily from Pittsburgh), and placed on a tablecloth with a candle, you'd be paying $25 for that meal. (Don't argue with me. That's a fact. The quality of the ingredients is that high.) Quitcherbitchen. You get more than what you pay for.
  

Oh, and one more observation. It has do to with a long-running conversation I enjoy with Diane Warren, the owner of Katzingers. The conversation includes me snarking: "What's your exit strategy? Do you expect to be carried out of the delicatessen? Will we wrap your corpse like a knish and deliver you to Epstein's in the delivery van?"

Now, However
After working a day in the delicatessen, I think that conversation is about me wanting to get out of my old job — not Diane needing to get out of her delicatessen.

Because now I completely understand why she would want no exit strategy. After all, what would a great retirement be? Forget retirement. What is heaven?

Heaven is working with beautiful, skilled people feeding the world simple, delicious meals.

That's heaven, isn't it?

If not, what do you think heaven is?

So, anyway, who wants an exit strategy for heaven?