Last week I gad the privelege of traveling to New Delhi, India for business. While wholly remarkable in many ways (the food!), a singularly non-American moment came in the airport en route back to the US.
Airport security, and immigration security, vary wildly between countries. The TSA in the United States was created in the wake of 9/11, citing the need for increased security. That agency’s effectiveness has undoubtedly contributed to the lack of airline-related terrorist threats, despite tests showing their training and processes have a 95% failure rate.
Exhibit A: Dehli Security
I’ve flown internationally several times over the past few years, but traveling home from Delhi was a whole new level of security. For posterity and comparison, here is a summary of what it takes to actually get on an airplane back to the States:
Before your car can even reach the terminal, it passes through three blockaded checkpoints. Not every car was searched – we were waved through thanks to the experience of my native driver — but plenty were.
After you get dropped off at the curb, but before you can literally walk in the door, a security officer — armed with the kind of shitkicker 14-eye boots, machine guns and perfectly angled berets you don’t mess with — checks your passport and printed itinerary.
Ten feet later, inside the terminal, another equally armed security officer checks your passport again.
Then you check into your flight via your airline’s kiosk. An airline rep checks your passport and visa, and you receive a paper boarding pass and paper tag for your carry-on.
Then you move through the immigration line. The officer asks a few questions, gives you that look (you know the one), checks your passport and visa, then stamps your boarding pass. (You do not want to lose the paper boarding pass. Boarding pass via mobile device is not a thing here.)
Then there’s physical security. Shoes off, laptops out, pockets empty. All carry-ons are screened, and their tags stamped. After you show your passport, your boarding pass is stamped again. Every person passes through a scanner and gets a mandatory wand treatment and pat-down by a security officer.
After that, you’re inside the terminal, with plenty of duty-free shops and a long walk to the gate. But the actual gate has a complete additional security line. Shoes off, laptops out, pockets empty. Another pat-down by another security officer. Any water you bought inside the terminal is confiscated (even if the cap is still sealed). Bags are rescanned and re-stamped, and your boarding pass is stamped and ripped. Once you’re inside the gate, surrounded by plexiglas, there’s no leaving.
One more time showing your well-stamped boarding pass before getting on the plane.
Swallow some narcotics and sleep for 14.5 hours.
Exhibit B: Newark Security
By comparison, the security procedure from the US (Newark, NJ, to be precise) flying to Delhi is about half the steps:
At check-in for bags and boarding passes, an airline rep verifies passport and valid visa. (From the US, you can’t fly to India without a visa.)
One security line (shoes off, laptops out, pockets empty) checks passport and boarding pass. No physical pat-down.
Gate attendants check paper boarding pass, passport and visa before allowing you on the plane.
Boarding pass checked
Total discrete validation points
I don’t have enough geopolitical knowledge or diverse international travel experience to draw meaningful analysis. Regard this as anecdotal.
But it was interesting to me that my country, so politcally paranoid about terrorism, has far less stringent person-to-person airline security1 than a country embedded in a region where terrorism is an actual daily reality. (Two week before I left, the Taliban exploded a bomb in a park in Lahore, Pakistan, killing more than 70 and injuring almost 300 — by intent, many of them children. Lahore is just across the Indian border and 425 kilometers from Delhi. This is closer than Boston, MA is to Washington, DC.)
Would US citizens tolerate such time (2+ hours) and checkpoints? After witnessing years of childish impatience at the mere suggestion of inconvenience for the sake of security, I’m not sure.
1 I am specific in person-to-person security, because I have no doubt highly trafficked international US airports like Newark are full of cameras, face recognition software, pre-cogs and other “behind the glass” technology that helps thwart threats.
This month I made a Significant Career Change. After 12+ years with the same company (Perceptive Software seven years before their acquisition and Lexmark five more years after the acquisition), I stepped away and accepted a position with Oracle working inside their Brand Creative team as a brand director.
While leading and rebranding a $4b, Fortune 1000 brand was fascinating, the opportunity to influence a $39b, Fortune 100 brand, ranked by Forbes as the 17th most valuable in the world, was too tasty to pass up.
The experience has not disappointed.
In the first few weeks, I’ve written key messaging, advised on global campaigns, dove into the deep end of Oracle’s oceanic product portfolio, and learned how to use Apple Mail without punting my laptop into a dumpster fire. The position is a savory blend of writing, positioning, content strategy, traditional marketing, and so much more; every day is mental crossfit as I get to flex all kinds of creative muscles.
The transition was bittersweet. 12 years is, after all, a long time.
My adventure with Lexmark arced over many peak career years. I worked hard and learned hard stuff. Branding at the global scale. Building teams across geographic and political lines. Gaining the confidence of the C suite. Submitting expense reports through SAP. And as a frequent visitor to Lexington, I cultivated a delicious interest in the merits and nuance of bourbon and rye whiskey.
All of that experience will stay with me until I bail out of the tech sector completely and open my fish taco stand in Barbados. And even then I’ll still have the bourbon.
So here’s to closing old chapters and opening new adventures. I’m all in.
After the disastrous, self-parodying album Four, I approached Hymns with thick rubber gloves and expectations lower than the bottom of the Thames. However: faith renewed. I don’t know if it’s great because it’s actually great or because it’s just different, but I give Kele and crew credit for creating something totally divergent from old Bloc Party. Gone is the frantic, stabby whirligig of anthemic post-punk, replaced by mostly quiet, mostly introspective, mostly legible ideas of spirituality, relationships both divine and mortal, and the value of honoring the present moment. Forgiving the shockingly bad (ludicrously bad) opening song, which I’ve just gone ahead and deleted from every device, this is the album we knew Bloc Party had the musical and emotional intelligence to write.
There is little grey area here. If you liked Silence Yourself, you will like Adore Life. Full stop. But if Savages’ unapologetic, gaunt, alley-fighting sound didn’t jive with your musical aesthetic the first go-round, I can only tell you that Adore Life is a genuinely better record. It still cuts deeply, but there’s also tangible love, a willingness to listen, a sense of humility that doesn’t so much muzzle the bite of their debut as much as exacerbate the pain via contrast. All that aside, it kicks ass. Worth the wait.
Beacon’s debut The Ways We Separate from 2013 remains one of my favorite electronic albums of the decade. Their quiet, breathy, bassy meditations unfold into a complicated symbiosis of vocal-driven pop and abstract progressive house, creating tinted watercolor compositions perfect for headphones. Escapements picks right up where they left off. The sounds and delivery are well-tread, and teeter on redundancy, but there’s just enough urgency to lock your attention into a synthpop freeze-ray. Beats are snappier. Tracks are tighter. Vocals aren’t always the focus. Beacon’s sound is refined, cleaner, more accessible, and it’s a more-than-worthy sequel.
Since 2013, I’ve had the privilege of designing and managing the visual identity of Content Strategy Forum, a global community evangelizing and advancing the practice of content strategy. Originally seeded from a 2010 Paris event, there is now a regular core team actively building CSF into a reputable and positive member of the content strategy community.
Because of our organic growth, the CSF brand has not exactly grown in a straight line. Slightly inconsistent naming. Occasional off-brand graphics. An unclear relationship between the event, the Google+ community, and the website. For the past few months, we’ve worked behind the scenes to strengthen the foundation in anticipation of our 2016 calendar.
Formalizing names and hierarchy
Before touching visuals, I established new guidelines for the brand names. Previously, “Content Strategy Forum”, “CSF”, “CS Forum” were used interchangeably for the steering collective, the event, the Google+ forum, and the broader community. This led to messy brand hierarchy, especially when the event was independently organized.
We aligned on the following:
Content Strategy Forum and CSF
The master brand is “Content Strategy Forum”. In any communication, we’ll ensure this full name is spelled out at least once. “CSF” then becomes interchangeable.
“CSForum” is the brand of the annual event. I deliberately eliminated the space between “CS” and “Forum” to formalize an offering name versus a lazy abbreviation, and align, literally, to the “CSF” house brand. (And, not unimportantly, maintain continuity for Google searches.)
In 2010, the label “content strategy” was newish and distinctive among sister disciplines. Today, it’s common. “Forum” has become the keyword of our organization, the pinion tying our moving parts together. This is not a bad thing — the word boasts an interesting semantic flair straddling community, assemblage, and civil discourse. I like it.
Re-aligning the core logo
We adjusted the core Content Strategy Forum logo in two small ways.
First, we changed the tagline from “a global cooperative” to “a global community”, a more accurate and inviting description. We even changed the URL to csf.community.
Second, I re-drew the five-circle icon. The previous rotation felt arbitrary and slightly off-balance. The new positioning aligns to a five-point star or pentagram facing right, providing a sense of forward direction and more purposeful structure.
The new CSForum conference logo
CSForum 2016 will inaugurate new event branding that extends the house brand. For the first time, visual identity will harmonize across digital and physical spaces.
The original logo and website design purposefully used an aesthetic ready-made for expansion. The wide color palette, groups of five, and circle shapes were deliberate creative keystones. CSForum 2016 provides the perfect excuse to bring those original intentions to life.
A sample of early exploration:
Many of these early riffs are not very good; they’re just fast sketches taking the identity in different directions. But with feedback from the core CSF crew and the 2016 organizer Content Ark, I ultimately focused on creating a mark that connoted the community interaction that makes live events so rewarding. The final logo:
I think it works. It not only illustrates community, but hints at sparks or explosions of ideas, diversity, and a sense of growth. Structurally, it’s also extensible for future years:
The new CSF style guide
Finally, we launched the Content Strategy Forum style guide. With CSF growing, adapting and solidifying, consistency in presentation is paramount.
This is, of course, a living document. You’ll see the usual suspects of color and type guidelines, but as brand conventions evolve — visual, naming, editorial — we’ll use this as our master reference.
If you’re interested in learning more about Content Strategy Forum, or staying in touch about events, visit csf.community and subscribe to our newsletter.
… Sorcerer’s Stone … Chamber of Secrets … Prisoner of Azkaban … Goblet of Fire … Order of the Phoenix … Half-Blood Prince … Deathly Hollows
In the beginning of 2015, I sat down and read all seven Harry Potter novels back-to-back, which, if we’ve learned anything in binge-watching TV series on Netflix, is really the ideal way to consume protracted stories. (How people waited for years between books I’ll never understand.)
The series did not disappoint. In fact, it exceeded all expectations. The arch-story and its plotlines, the subplots and characters, the micro-interactions and scene-setting, the absolute clarity of writing over seven long books, and the ability to not only never lose focus but tie it all together at the very end, was so masterful, and so rewarding, that it’s tough to draw any contemporary comparisons.
Harry Potter is as approachable as Narnia, as intriguing as Game of Thrones, as self-enclosed and complete as Tolkien. If you haven’t read them because you think the whole kid-doing-magic shtick is for middle-schoolers, you’re shorting yourself one of the world’s great literary experiences. I look forward to re-reading them all again in the next few years.
Another classic that I just got around to this year. What hasn’t been said already about Dune? A million readers thrilled, a thousand books influenced. This masterpiece of speculative science fantasy, set on a desert world where water is the ultimate resource and the environment is harvested by capitalism, remains deeply resonant.
The story, a survival tale of one man stranded on Mars, is a page-burning classic of hard science meets human ingenuity meets the fickleness of inter-planet environments. The movie was remarkably loyal, but the book remains the better adventure. (Also a candidate for best cover this year. What an amazing painting.)
Best described as “abstract fantasy”, this looping, layered novel threads disparate narratives of industrialists, hunters, photographers, scientists, shamans and a rogue cyclops into a dense tapestry centered on an impenetrable, enchanted tropical forest. While Catling writes with unchained imagination, the words trip over themselves and often great ideas get mired in language as obtuse and heavy as the very forest that confounds the characters. In the end, the storylines fizzled away and I was left grasping for meaning that felt just out of reach.
The second (of three) in the series, this follows the story started in Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children. The writing has graduated beyond the stilted plotting of the first, and the storyline is less dependent on the antique photography that inspired the series. A rewarding read that leaves me anticipating the conclusion.
A pleasant narrative that follows the first marriage of Ernest Hemingway. The writing was very good, but ultimately the story failed to gain momentum. Made it two-thirds through.
(Often I read my kids’ books just to see what they’re consuming. They’re right at that sweet phase of imaginative young adult — older than Dr. Seuss but not quite Hunger Games — where authors range free in unrestricted, friendly, colorful worlds.)
A book whose jacket would have you believe it’s about a giant imaginative cat, and it is, sort of, but the heart of the story is a husband and wife struggling to make ends meet and how drifting into homelessness and poverty affects their two young kids. Very real, very touching, very appropriate.
An adventure story of four siblings who take over a treasure-hunting operation when their parents disappear. Fun, non-stop action full of colorful characters, this romps through oceans and cities with twisty plot reveals. My son’s book of the year.
Framed as a letter to his son, this short and poignant meditation drifts between personal memoir, societal diagnosis and historical fact-checking to illuminate, in the scythe-like language of an ex-poet, what it means to be black in America today. Timely, relevant and, tragically, required reading. It’s plainly obvious why this appears on so many “best of 2015” lists.
This extended photo essay traverses the globe to capture lifeforms that have lived contiguously for at least 2,000 years. From the usual suspects (giant sequoia; 2,200 years) to the unexpected (colony of aspen, 80,000 years) to the weird (Antarctic moss, 5,500 years) to the tragic (the Senator Tree, 3,500 years but killed in 2012 by assholes on meth), the elegant photography and outstanding essays offer dozens of ways to put our own lives, and really the duration of the entire human race, into blinding perspective.
Ms Kolbert narrates us through a long case study of the five major extinction-level events that each killed off significant portions of the earth’s biomass and bio-diversity. The argument, of course, is that humans, and humans alone, are currently driving the earth’s sixth extinction event through environmental destruction, climate change, and sheer capitalist greed. The writing is sharp and unapologetic, the subject engrossing and fatalistic, the final conclusion as unavoidable as the cliff we’re about to drive over.
A fascinating journey into the science and psychology of sound, our author explains the most interesting spaces, the quietest place on earth, and much more. If you have any interest in recording, or the physiology of this crucial sense, this is about the best book out there.