Meeting Francoise.

I first saw her in silhouette.

One leading, the other living a life narrated by the voice of the other, it would not be long until they reached my table.

Sitting atop the café in L’Pompidou Centre, I spent hours watching the silhouettes walk by. In the late morning, a surging wash of visitors would paint the concrete floor, both in the sharpness of their line and in the blurred states of their shadows. The effect is renewing and steady. However today, I found something distinctly different. I reached for the camera to document the moment for the fear that no one would believe what would happen next.

There she was, blind.

I saw the two friends traverse the interior space arriving at the foot of the escalator beneath me. So all at once, I captured the moment. I wondered what her imagination had shown her at L’Pompidou Centre and as the thought left me, I returned to my writing.

Without reason, I looked up to search for a friend that would never come and it was then that I heard them, the blind woman and her friend.

“Francoise, we’re coming up to a glass topped table now. The seats are lined with some red crushed velvet fabric, and the frame is curved steel ok darling. There are two other tables beside this one, and they are empty. You can sit here love. I’m going to go get some food for us, what would you like to have?”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all Jenny. You choose.”

Francoise was listening intently but I could tell that her eyes, dormant underneath her skin, were somewhere else. She looked up as if she could see, emerging from below the level of the water into her first gasp of air. Jenny’s description lifted her through the liquid ceiling that comes with being blind, and she could breathe again.

With a rough sketch of her surroundings, Francoise moved to her hands aged with beauty and yet pregnant with the curiosity of a child. They were feeling, touching, seeing everything out of sight. The painting in her head was not yet finished and I had a chance to be a part of that image, imagination, she needed only to hear me.

To be continued…

The Great Impression

No matter how old I get, no matter how senile, how absent-minded, I will never forget the feeling of watching Paris transform from winter to spring. For this California kid, after twenty three years of living, I've finally experienced a true season. I apologize for not posting more, but sometimes I feel life should be lived, not narrated. Spring in Paris, is definitely one of those times. More to come soon.

The Secret

The aspect I love most about this city is the general attention to craftsmanship in all aspects of life. Just the simple ritual of drinking tea has been brought up into the level of godliness, and the French have mastered a way of finding passions each person is good at, thus becoming ambassadors of their art. So I'll share with you a secret... This art is more beautiful than anything in the Louvre herself, because it is the art of Parisian life. An art lived, experienced every day.

Imagination in an Invisible Paris

"For me, blindness has a lot to do with imagination. It's a constant imagination actually. You imagine everything, what you smell, what you feel, or what you hear. So sometimes we want to really stop and enjoy with all of our senses... sometimes there is no time to just smell or to just listen."

-Sabriye Tenberken, blinded at the age of 12, is the co-founder of Braille Without Borders

There has been a lot of confusion or perhaps a lack of understanding from the design community as to why I am conducting sound research in Paris, or as to why I came to the 'City of Lights' to literally be blind. Some would go as far to call it masochism. So I felt that now would be an appropriate time to share this quote with you from Sabriye Tenberken because it is so dead on in its description of my experience here that it hurts.

Again, Reasons which may have not been clear from the beginning

The first school for the blind, L'Institute National des Jeunes Aveugles or INJA (Royal Institution for Blind Youth) started in Paris in the year 1784 by Valentin Hauy.

Braille is a system used by the blind to read and write. It was discovered by a blind Frenchman, Louis Braille who attended the INJA.

During the 1800s most organs in the cathedrals of Paris were played by blind musicians, one of which was Andre Marchal who served as the primary organist of L'Eglise Saint Germain des Pres.

Raymond Carver's Cathedral

We can gain so much from understanding the visually impaired by celebrating their experiences in design rather than diminishing them to a singular check mark for code. I know I'm going to be excommunicated for this, but it's really not just about the money shot. If I can design a building that makes a visually impaired person say "Wow" then I know I've done my job for the day and I can sleep well.

-Matt

The 'Pursuit of Silence' In a World full of Noise

A new book from writer George Prochnik. Some studies include the relationship of music and alcohol consumption in restaurants in France, as well as its energetic power in retail spaces. Additionally he promotes the use of new technologies and materials in sound proofing such as a silencing machine or silencing cloak.

For those of you asking how sound can be used in design... here's your answer.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=125511963

In the movie Vanilla Sky

Tom Cruise's character woke up to a deserted New York City. Today I woke up to a deserted Paris. Where is everyone?!

L'Mariage de Marion et Louis-Marie

At times, I find it extremely hard to write on this blog because the days unfold like movies, movies which I have a hard time believing myself. And yet it's better than a movie, because it's life -- my life here in Paris. For my thesis at USC with Prof. Annie Chu, I naively created this term called 'erlebnis erafhrung effect' which is defined as an individual living through an event or an experience in which emotional responses are evoked. Every day here in Paris has evoked emotional responses, has executed the EEE, but today's recordings were on a completely different level.

When I was younger, I was obsessed with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, so I am always observing the scenery around me with the eyes and ears of a detective. I clued into the wedding 30 minutes before it started because the entire parking lot in front of Louis Vuitton was empty except for one lone Aston Martin DB9-it may have nothing to do with the wedding, but I new something was up. Then I noticed some women tying lilies to the chairs along the aisle, and I also saw a number of instrument cases strewn across the floor of the choir area. I knew something must have been up, so I waited and then I saw the family filing in as if it were a promenade. Luckily, I was dressed to the nines today, so no one mistook me as a tourist even though I was surrounded by long-tailed suits and hats that made the women look like moving sculptures from another time. So I sat down just to the right of the bride and groom, and in the time of two hours, this is some of what I heard:

1. The sound of wedding vows echo through a church, a confident "oui, je t'aime" from a man to his future wife...

2. The sound of a family cheer on their newest extended family...

3. Two best friends wishing the couple a happy life together...

4. The sound of the entire wedding party surrounding the new bride and groom and singing them a song of good fortune as they skip out of the church...

5. A glissando from l'orgue, sortie avec l'orgue... incredible.

I didn't even know these people, but I was still moved. Today's recording was so different that the others because it was a familial effort, hundreds of voices singing in a tone so cheerful that it felt warmer than the sun coming into the church. I still wonder, how can I achieve the same emotional response that a composer achieves in a piece of music in the experience of a building? Any suggestions?

I have so much work to do beyond this fellowship to answer that question, but I am moving forward, blindly. (pun intended-when are they not?)

To Marion and Louis-Marie... Thank you for letting me be a part of your day. Cheers, and a long life to you both!

Daniel Kahneman: The riddle of experience vs. memory | Video on TED.com

Daniel Kahneman: The riddle of experience vs. memory | Video on TED.com

Thanks Victor for sharing the post with me.

A day in the life of Matt

Days like this are so creatively stimulating I have to force myself to stop, just to send oxygen to my brain.

Mondays are usually the one day where I leave the docket empty and I make it up as I go. Here's my Monday docket for April 5, 2010. I wrote this one down because one day, when I can no longer do these things, I want to remember how amazing a day can become when everything is left to chance.

1. No surprises here, start the day off with a walk along the Seine

I decided not to take the metro today since it was the first day in a long while where the sun was strong enough to warm my back. I had intentions of going to the Petite Palais to do some more research, but the walk along the Seine was so therapeutic that I kept walking with no real desire to get anywhere fast.

Breakfast of Champions

2. Listen to the saxophonist under the bridge, Passarelle Léopold-Sédar Senghor

He played Edith Piaf's 'La Vie en Rose' for me while I sat and watched the boats pass by. Don't worry, I've got it recorded if you're interested in hearing it.

'La Vie en Rose'

3. Make a creative note about my dream home

I continued my walk to the docks along the Champs-Élysées. I took notice of the colors of the boats, colors worn down by the river, by the sea. One of the side projects I'm working on involves finding spaces in Paris that comfort me and designing a program to pull swatches from these spatial memories. So far, I've got about nine color harmonies. They have inspired rooms in my dream 'studio' as well as future fashion statements I may one day make.

4. Forget about time

I followed the Seine, stopping here and there to sketch or make a recording, and three hours later I found myself in front of the Eiffel Tower.

OK Eiffel tower, you got me this time...

5. A quiche lorraine with a view

After deciding to take a quick break, I went into the café at the architecture museum at the Trocadero. It has the best view of the Eiffel and you can have an amazing lunch for just about eight euro. I stayed there and watched the light change. I read a few lines of Munari, wrote a few lines myself and continued to get lost in the city.

The light.

6. Research for children's book

I ended up in the Nautical Museum of Paris, where I ended up taking about 300 photos. Sorry, I have a weak spot for these kinds of things, and I swear everything in this museum got me excited to continue this story I'm working on. Coming to a pair of hands on you soon...

This woman in beech wood, caught my eye and my attention for 30 minutes

Studying the hidden landscapes in nautical rope

Diving Bells and Butterflies.

Light house light bulbs... I wonder how man Frenchmen it takes to change this one.

7. Walk back, high tea

Now it was about four in the afternoon. In London, four means tea time! So I walked back to the Louvre to have high tea in my secret place, Mariage Fréres. The one I go to has an incredible atmosphere, and they usually play cuban jazz which fills the air with this aura of a time long ago.

This is an image of the downstairs seating area... I have yet to clandestinely take photos of the incredible space above.

8. Regatta

More research on the book... I watched a regatta which is my way of describing french kids sailing toy boats at the Tuileries. Today, all the boats were rented out so I just sat back and watched them sail away. The neon colors of the sails and the sound of kids running on the gravel always stays in my mind.

I think I'll miss this the most.

9. Shakespeare and Co.

This bookshop across from Notre Dame is where I spend many of my evenings into nights because of two reasons: they always have a reading on Monday nights and it's generally the best time to go because all of the artists and intellectuals from the Latin Quarter leave their studios to get in some good poetry.

Mr. Calder reciting poems from his book 'Solo.' notice how moved the girl (Gemma) on the right is...

10. Meet someone famous, be inspired, take their advice and 'fly solo'

Today's reading was by John Calder. If you don't know him, he's a famous poet, writer, and publisher. I listened to him read a few of his poems, and we got to talk afterwards. From what he says, Samuel Beckett was quite the character in his day. I told him about the project I was working on in Paris, and he told me to stay a while so he could read me a poem he wrote called 'Solo.' He said it might inspire me...

11. End the day with the sunset along the Seine

Like a close friend of mine who just celebrated her birthday, this one never gets old.

Good night Paris. You've made my Monday.

Excerpts from the Traumatic Fantasies

Her eyes were wet like glass.

Clear and deep, they were the only feature of her body that echoed a life once lived. Her feathers so black, so vapid gave off a thick perfume of ash and smoke. You could touch her skin with your eyes. The organ was so leathered by the fire that it draped a blanket across her large frame causing it to disappear into the now soot painted walls. The new camouflage would not help her here.

She had died a second time.

The feathers had burned off of her coat but their tips, fragmented, were attached to the body as if she had turned into a flightless porcupine atop the legs of a small giraffe. If you shook her, remnants of her burnt self would fall to the floor like fire flakes, snowing. She had no purpose but to continue to stare and watch as the rest of her frozen body burned amongst the electrical wiring.

Who will take her picture now?

It's important to me to be able to write descriptively and imaginatively about experiences I encounter because when we design, we must inherently create a space, an image, and describe it. Like a detective, the mind has to be as small as an ant, and walk every surface of the space or object, explore every shadow and have an intimate relationship with the unseen surroundings. If I can't draw a space at first, I'll write about it. This is a design exercise that works best when describing mundane things which force you to change scales such as olive oil and balsamic vinegar, locks on a door, or the proper way to eat a hard boiled egg. For my ten lucky readers, I can post others in time so you can understand more about these mental exercises I make for myself. Just let me know in the comments section.

If you ever see me in some sort of a haze or deep thought, I am usually doing one of these exercises. This is the first time though that I've told anyone what I was really thinking about. Hopefully you can gain something from it.

The space here is a section of the taxonomy shop in Paris called Deyrolle which burned in a tragic fire.

Our lady, a stuffed ostrich:

Noisy Neighbors

Paris treats its musicians well, and every day I'm starting to memorize these different sound environments. The musicians here perform in the same way that one uses icons and landmarks to navigate through the city. Each musician creates a sonic neighborhood, which offers new avenues for mapping out urban experience in cities similar to Paris. Not that I ever get tired of drawing Nolli plans... Did he just say urbanism? I could hear the same studies being done in London, New York, New Orleans or Barcelona. In addition to music, sound promotes urban experiences through relationships between pedestrian protection, scale, green space, wet space, transportation, and even temporary events such as flea markets or art exhibitions.

Back in Los Angeles, a mentor of mine told me he always found transitional spaces to be key players in design, and after having gone through maybe 400 or so sound recordings, I couldn't agree more. The way the sound behaves when transitioning through space is gradual. It never turns itself on or off like an ipod. It just fades into an echo. In fact, most times, I feel that the city sounds and the music I hear is even more beautiful when you hear it from a distance reflecting off of the facades a million times a second. It definitely adds to the quality of life index to the life of Parisians.

Usually design wants to stop sound from coming in. It may pertain to the sound of a local train, or an airplane landing just down the bay, or the infamous noisy neighbors... here, at least for me that's definitely not the case. De-De-Definitely.

Un Claude Deux Claude

Monet and Debussy were the two who led me to this watercolor. There is a reason and a relationship, but I will divulge those ideas at a more appropriate time. For now, we can be content knowing that I can start to visual my ideas and process driven research. If you think you know what it's going to look like in the end, you are assuming too much because the creative office has yet to wrap its head around the analysis, but things are starting to surface.

"If you already know the answer to the question, then why ask?"

Sound is merely what we hear when we listen. We're not dealing with sound, we're understanding processes of listening. Sense of hearing, not sense of sound... I realize this will probably make no sense at all, and most of this is stream of consciousness, but I feel its important to write it anyways. Don't forget, the world was once flat.