Friday, November 6, 2009

The Week-End

musicmuse ca photo courtesy Flickr
Having two days off after Friday became popular in nineteenth-century England. Persons of privilege left the city to visit a country estate. The literature and etiquette of the period centers on just such visits.

Having a week-end implies having a work week. Persons whose labor was their own did not pay much attention to that timetable. As someone who works from home, I find it comforting to know that the hours to which I’m wedded are not a new development.

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More after the jump.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Outsmarting Convenience

Nick Perla photo courtesy Flickr
Attention is in shorter supply than time or money, and it is a matter of habit to use automated systems, like a washing machine or thermostat, to handle routine domestic chores. Furnaces and appliances evolved from the twentieth century’s mass analysis of mass problems.

Today, communications and design let one sidestep the one-size-fits-all approach of conventional solutions to life support. A few second’s attention to thoughtful, hands-on ways of washing, heating, or cooking can yield meaningful savings that lighten the menace of global warming.

Depending less on utilities and more on muscle-power yields more than an easier conscience: small changes foster better health and more disposable income. A series of minor, elegant changes can make stress a memory, at least familiar stress. There’s always room for new, improved stress.

One simple example: coffee. Ready-ground beans and an automatic drip coffee maker keep brew running like tap water, good neither for nerves nor bones. Shifting to whole beans and a hand-grinder, kinder to the ears than an electric one, reduces coffee-making to a low-tech process more like the Japanese tea ceremony than fast-food.

A heating system responds to minor, hands-on changes in control that revise the whole process of staying comfortable. The base line for heating is to have no heat at all. Staying warm used to mean gathering, storing, and stoking solid fuel in a fire pit or chimneyed hearth. Turning the furnace on and off by hand or plugging in a heater is trivial work compared to lugging and tending a scuttle of coal. Every domicile is a unique situation, and personal attention to heat brings all one’s perception and intelligence to the process of staying warm. Since most existing houses have automated systems built in, one can shift back and forth from driving a stick, so to speak, to driving the automatic depending on circumstances.

Turning the furnace off altogether makes it easy to perceive subtle advantages of warmth. If left on, the ceiling lights in my kitchen warm the floor of the bathroom overhead. The bathroom light warms the ceiling enough to keep steam from condensing and lingering in the room. A free standing heated towel rack keeps linens fresh and will pay for itself in a month.

Good lighting and clean windows are vital to living well without central heat. Artificial and natural light keep air circulating in an unheated room. So far this winter, I find that a UL listed electric floor-heating mat stowed under a thin, wool rug keeps our little sitting room comfortable, usable, and far less parched than the portable oil-filled radiator I used last year. Heating from the floor up is far more rational than heating from the ceiling down.

The floor mat draws around 1350 watts, and I anticipate a higher electricity bill. On the other hand, though, the greenhouse max/min thermometer says the refrigerator has little to do in the kitchen, since the room is usually close to forty-five degrees. The featherweight portable twin-tub washing machine UPS delivered last year halved the electricity bill, since I can use rinse water to wash the next load. The machine has a centrifuge that spins clothes dry enough to wear, in a pinch, so even line drying in an unheated space is efficient, especially if I keep one small incandescent bulb lit or use a 6w muffin fan to circulate the air. Line-dried clothing lasts around five times as long as that tumbled in a machine.

All these little refinements support daily life. As an assistant traffic engineer in 1966, I learned to design for the ordinary daily load, not for the worst-case scenario. When visitors arrive or work brings a crunch, I revert to the stupid, expensive robots that were running the house to begin with.

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Wednesday, November 4, 2009

"Nostalgia is always lying in wait for us." David Pye, ca. 1963

Index follows

Last summer’s visit to San Francisco took me to Haight-Ashbury to photograph the ‘hood for the sons of my roommate during 1967’s Summer of Love. We lived there by accident, having chosen the neighborhood for its light, reasonable rent, and proximity to Golden Gate Park.

I won’t add anything to the countless millions of words that have been written about that era except to honor two local businesses that were central to the scene. The first seems to be gone. It was a tiny store front ice cream shop. The man who ran it experimented with flavors and fed many street kids with his minor failures.

The other business, a hardware store, is still there. It was an important force for social stability and the source of materials for many a sidewalk vendor. In ’67, the store was owned by a man whose father and son both helped run it. I snapped a current image of the facade looking better than ever and hope the family still has the place.

The DIY ethic survives, the supermarket now sells music and is decorated by a mural of Janice, Jimi, and Jerry looking like their high school yearbook photos, and the new De Young Museum feels like the Chinese bronzes the old building used to house.

When I visited the Haight in 1968, it looked as if it had burned. The main street and the storefronts were coated in soot. It was a shocking, but understandable change. I stood in front of the Print Mint transfixed, on the verge of tears, and a short, long-haired stranger just walked up and gave me a long, silent hug. Last summer, the neighborhood looked as if the Digger’s agenda to restore the city had been realized. The Sunday I was there, bonny young families were going about their business. The most obvious change was in the landscape: the streets bloom. Perhaps flower power is as effective as the young urban design community used to claim. It certainly can’t hurt.

I credit that place and time with free low-income health clinics, nutritional awareness, free speech, not glowing in the dark, humane child-rearing practices, digital culture, music everything, all ages entertainment, the Reagan revolution, and the same sense of social cohesion that pulled Seattle together when grunge hit in 1990. Having unwittingly lived in two neighborhoods that became global news stories, I can say that grunge was better, because the kids knew more about how to protect themselves.

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More after the jump.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Focus

Photo courtesy Flickr
Every day starts with a new bushel of details. Getting one thing done generates five more. It’s like cutting up a starfish: each piece generates a new animal. It may be better not to complicate things in the first place. Here are some undocumented rules of thumb:

Try. Fail. Try again. Fail better. Samuel Beckett to an aspiring young writer

Design your life. Fred Griffin

Resolve it or leave it out. Jim Scott, jet pilot, illustrator, roper. 1973

Renew it daily. Confucius

Your friendly local Pilates instructor or other trainer is there to help you with the last thing on the list.

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BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB More after the jump.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Sterling

Photo courtesy Flickr
Some not very encyclopedic comments about knives and forks: sterling is a technical term used to describe an alloy of pure silver that has been modified to make it harder and less likely to wear away when it is used. Silver, a “noble metal”, conducts heat well and makes an efficient cooking pot.

Sterling flatware is good value on many counts: first, it’s beautiful, reflecting and amplifying light on the table; second, it’s usually carefully designed to support graceful gestures while eating; third, it takes a long time to wear out, lasting for generations; and fourth, there’s a secondary market for precious metal.

Where table silver is concerned, older is better. If someone serves you a meal with a fork that is so thin you worry about bending it on a chop, consider yourself honored. Silver descends through the daughters in a family and represents continuity of privilege and responsibility. When hard times come, silver can be cashed in to fund the future.

In colonial America, silver and coinage were interchangeable, and old “coin silver” spoons show up from time to time in second hand stores. I bought one for a quarter at Goodwill a few years ago. Until around 1973, United States currency was or represented actual precious metal. Coins were solid silver alloy, and paper money could be redeemed for granulated silver.

In 1988, the Swedish Nationalmuseum mounted an exhibit of three hundred fifty years of Swedish silver design at the Cooper-Hewitt Museum in New York. The showing coincided with the commemoration of the founding of New Sweden in Delaware, and the exhibits cover almost exactly the time span of the jubilee. The show’s catalogue, “The Triumph of Simplicity”, ISBN 91 7100 342 8, is a concise education in the social and aesthetic values of working in precious metal. I often turn to this book when life has left me feeling fried.

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