"the happy box"
Imagination seems to be a lost art. Creativity and individual thinking are often be overshadowed by expectations of our peers. Why do we not think for ourselves? Are the beliefs of a “role model” more important that finding our own set of ideals?
People tend to see things in a manner that is taught; and rightfully so, that is why we have teachers, schools, etc. But do these also take away from imagination and the creative process? Perception is something that changes with age. How we see things, understand them and ultimately judge or relate to them can often be determined by our life experiences and influences.
When I was younger I used to think that cats were girls and dogs were boys. cows vs. horses, chickens vs. ducks.. all one in the same. I don’t know why, or how, or what made me believe this but it just seemed so logical. Maybe it was television, cartoons, or books? Maybe it simply starts with the first time you are dressed as a baby. Blue means boy, pink means girl… green and yellow are neutral. Who decides this? My favorite color gumball was pink when I was little. What does that mean?
Perhaps if we all took the time to notice things and look at them in a slightly different manner we could lose some of our preconceived notions of what is “supposed” to be. What if we all thought a little more about what could be we would all feel a little better about ourselves and each other… maybe we could even reinvent the wheel, or simply find a new friend in the smile of a lonely box.
Chicago. July. 2013
why he cooks:
"…All of this ultimately led to the decision that a kitchen was somewhere i was comfortable being but not a place i would care to spend my days and nights. so i grew, moved on, and found myself majoring in business at a small liberal arts school just north of the city. i played sports, i socialized, i did just what a college student should do.
one summer, while still in college, my grandmother became very sick. my father called me and informed me that he was traveling to spend part of the summer with her…
we traveled to my grandmothers a few days later. we dined with her at an equally “fancy” restaurant in bay harbor. she told us stories of her childhood, time on the farm, her time with her family. her stories of daily chores - feeding the chickens and milking the cows - did little to keep my attention…
…the upstairs dining room sat perched just above the kitchen and the glass handrail offered a perfect view of the dance. i watched in awe. this was art. this was a sport. this entailed everything that i loved. when i was younger i loved graffiti, photography, and anything that seemed to be visually striking and inspire emotion…
…my grandmother passed shortly there after, i spent the entire summer working at that restaurant.
i am still cooking. i envy her time on the farm.”
the french laundry. yountville. august.2007
the perfect partner.
the person that will laugh at your jokes. that tells jokes about super mario brothers and laughs at them harder than you. the person that will smile for no apparent reason and has the confidence to dance and sing and wear purple pants.
the person that wont break your heart. that wont make you question yourself or others. someone that will hold on to you and listen to your thoughts and ramblings about nothing.
your biggest fan, your other half. the person that makes you better for having them as a part of your life. the first and last person that you see everyday. the best part of your team.
someone that supports you and cares for you. someone that has ideas even dumber than yours…
someone that you can fall in love with every day.
exit. chicago. september.2012