Shokunin

Shokunin (Sho-koo-neen) is a Japanese word used to describe an individual that aspires to become a master in their particular craft or art form. Ryan Neil falls firmly into this description, as he has been practicing the art of Bonsai for nearly two decades. In this short film, we get a glimpse at the broader thinking behind a professional American Bonsai practitioner, as well as some of the inherent challenges and aspirations that come along with the pursuit for bonsai mastery in America. Join the movement. visit: http://www.theartisanscup.com/ A Film By: Ryan J. Bush (http://www.ryanjbush.com/ ) Commissioned By: Bonsai Mirai ( http://bonsaimirai.com/ ) Creative Direction: The DeSpains ( http://www.thedespains.com ) Opening Title Animation: Caleb Cappock ( http://www.uphilldownhill.com/ ) Music By: C418 - Tracks used: “Taswell” and “Intro” - ( http://c418.bandcamp.com/ ) Filmed in Oregon

What does it mean to be a master; to spend each day in the tireless pursuit of something greater than yourself?

Mastery is about the pursuit, not the end goal; and for that reason mastery can never be realized. It's a commitment to a focus without understanding the value inherent in the focus. It requires a surrender to madness. It's a tireless dedication to the seemingly trivial, mundane, and inconsequential. It's an endless string of questions. It's a place where you find comfort in stillness and a different understanding of time. It's a surrender to a focus that will always be greater than you. It's frustrating, exhausting, and pushes you to quit at every turn. The pursuit of mastery is not easy; it is not for the faint of heart. Mastery is elusive, it escapes your clutches like grains of sand in your hand. But in spite of all it's challenges, mastery is beautiful. It is that moment of pause, that fleeting breath of perfection. It's that one moment that energizes our souls to seek it again. Mastery is addicting and its pursuit will challenge you in the most wonderfully unexpected ways. Pursue it with all your being.

Spaces - Night Sledding

Cold and clear, the dry night air was crisp and silent. A cold front had settled behind the winter storm that left feet of pow. Tonight was perfect for night sledding at the local ski area. We packed our gear and met our group at the base at six. Lumbering from the warmth of the cars, struggling with light gloves, we laced our boots, tightened our snowshoes, and clamped on our helmets. Starting at 7,885 feet above sea level we began the journey to 9,895.

Head lamps off we began climbing under the guise of nearly invisible moon. Leaving the lights of the base behind our journey we entered into the realm of black and white. In the darkness form is manipulated by absolutes; the flat white plains of the ski run contrasted by the jagged horizon line of trees, barely discernible against the star filled night. Tilting your head towards the heavens reveals the celestial cloudiness of the Milky Way. It is here you see stars. The cadence of our climb marked by the foggy exhale of breath. Silence pierced by the moans of metal cleats on frozen snow. The air had pulled the snow dry. With each step it creaked like styrofoam being pulled apart. The subtle undulations of the trail felt not seen.

An hour passed and our party of six landed at the bench before our final ascent. The labor of altitude combined with the cold air cuts at my lungs. The exhale escapes with a slight gurgling wheeze. Under the view of the lifts we push through the final climb and summit at the modest ski cabin. Before disappearing inside I take a moment to look back at the path behind me. The heavens glisten in spectacular fashion, the cities below bathed in their warm yellow sodium vapor light. I grab the doorknob and enter. Inside we meet three others who like use recognized the potential of the night.

We peel of our wet layers of clothing and share water and snacks. The skiers take off their skins. We all catch our breath. Then we gear up; zipping all the edges of our jackets, closing the vents to our helmets, donning our headlamps, and dropping our goggles over our brows. A nervous 'thumbs-up' and we are ready to descend. I push my fists against the snow the sled scratching forward, and I am gone.

The speed is undeniable and it grows. All I know of the world before me is what the headlamp reveals. Contours reveal themselves and continuously morph as I bound along. These are slopes of my childhood and I find myself traveling by memory instead of sight. The others are not far behind me. We drop the last of the steepest terrain and reconvene. This time I let them lead, watching their lamps snake too and fro across the frozen path. Our hoots of joy piercing the night air. One last turn past the lift and into the parking lot and our adventure is done.

'Spaces' is an essay series depicting the memory of my most treasured places. Share your favorite spaces with us in the comments.

South America Adventure - Finale

The speed increased, my table and seat were in their locked positions, and I was airborne. The plane took one last arching bank over the archipelago of Rio, and my adventure ended. The white noise of engines propelled me home while the familiar lull of playlists resounded in my ears. The hours ticked by while I dreamt of the many people and places I had visited.

These cities are special, each with complex challenges and their own elegant solutions. Whether it’s the modern buildings woven into the historic fabric of Buenos Aires, the scenic murals of Sao Paulo, or the sound of grinding sand on the sidewalks of Rio—each place had distinct smells, flavors, sounds, and senses of community. During my travels I was impressed by the altruistic expansion of mass transit, not just to the wealthy neighborhoods, but also to the poorest reaches of these cities. I found myself wonderfully lost among the expanses of towers, stumbling upon unexpected moments of beauty.

The biggest thing I took away from my travels was an appreciation for their ingenuity. Governments are challenged with tight budgets, and thus have to allocate resources carefully. Often this means a lack of what we would consider basic services. The inhabitants of these South American cities respond with unparalleled dexterity. This is a place where one Paulista paints a mural on his garage only to inspire his neighbor to do the same. The pattern continues, and slowly the neighborhood changes. In another city, neighbors come together to close a street once a week for a craft market and it grows into a major community gathering space. Simple solutions to complex problems are discovered, not because they are better, but because they are born of necessity. In these cities there is neither money nor time to throw at problems. Sit on a corner in any of them and watch how their inhabitants live. Study the amazing details of their windows, see how their front stoop also serves as their parking spot. Enjoy the cool breeze in your room drawn from the internal courtyard, or escape from it all on one of the many rooftop patios.

To many these spaces seem simple, and they are. They provide shelter and comfort in an uncomplicated manner. The houses can be constructed with basic knowledge, and they can be personalized easily. Through my journeys I realized that in South America, housing isn’t just defined by where your front door starts, but by its greater connection to the city and its social fabric. It’s these connections that make urban housing in these cities great—and those connections are what I hope to strengthen in my own design practice. 

South America Adventure, Part 3

As the sun breaks the horizon, the tires of the Boeing pounding the tarmac announce my arrival in Rio. Filled with energy and anticipation, I eagerly deplane. I take a bus from the airport, opting for a slower and less direct path to my hostel in Ipanema.

As the bus travels further from the ocean, I notice something—neighborhoods become denser and more impoverished the more inland I go. It isn’t until later that I realize the amazing tension between rich and poor. As I stand below the outstretched arms of Christ the Redeemer, the stark contrast of the city is clearly evident.

Beaches

Defined by its beaches, Rio stretches for miles along a meandering coastline. The beaches abruptly end at countless rows of hotels, condos, and apartments. For many tourists, Rio is a swatch of land three blocks wide that ends at the beach.

The streets in this belt are crowded with restaurants and juice stands. Tiny cafes dot the beach and vendors walk the white sand hawking bikini tops. With a simple wave of a hand, a young man delivers fresh coconut milk. Brazilians kick soccer balls along the varied topography of sand and waves. Barefoot people run by, their fit, tanned bodies emulating the notion of paradise that is Rio.

With the setting sun the city transforms into a lively night scene. Rodizio swords of meat are passed around, blended fruit cocktails are whipped up, and the methodical beats of music fill the air. This is the beautiful Rio most experience; the Rio everyone loves. I discover I am no different from the rest. As I get lost in the excitement, I turn my back to the real Rio, the places where most people live.

Favelas

Dotting the hillsides, over 600 favelas—the Brazilian term for slum—embody the vernacular of the city. More than six percent of the 11.4 million residents of Rio live in these shantytowns. To claim that the favelas are fraught with crime and violence would be simplistic—only ten percent are pacified, operating under lose government control.

Built without code, the majority of favelas are not governed by the local municipality, meaning that varied states of services are available. Sanitation, water, electricity, garbage collection, education, and safety are generally the responsibility of the inhabitants. Most residents don’t own the land they reside on. Many people use a neighbor’s roof as the floor for their home.

Migration from the countryside to the city has led to an explosion in growth of these ungoverned communities. The restricting landscape combined with Rio’s history of eradicating the favelas has increased the tensions between the haves and have-nots. To improve living conditions, the citizens of these favelas have formed community groups aimed at pooling resources and exerting local influence.

As Rio continues to confront challenges of growth and modernization, there is hope for a unique solution. Financial gains from the recent World Cup and the future 2016 Olympics have created an optimistic outlook for the city. Hopefully, they will be able to take advantage of these events to elevate the quality of life of its population.

BIG - The Power of Architecture

BIG presents a nice talk about the Power of Architecture.

http://video.wired.com/watch/bjarke-ingels-will-make-you-believe-in-the-power-of-architecture

People First Design

This talk was given at a local TEDx event, produced independently of the TED Conferences. In his talk, Jeff looks at reimagining cities. With more people living and working in cities than before, making cities sustainable and livable spaces is more important than ever.

Watch my friend Jeff Risom at his TEDxWBG presentation. 

South American Adventure, Part 2

Part 2: Sao Paulo, Brazil

My adventure continued with a four-day stop in Sao Paulo, the largest city in the Americas. Home to almost 21 million Paulistanos, this burgeoning metropolis is tucked into the coastal hills of Brazil. I arrived late at night, a dank fog bearing down. The city’s crushing loss in the World Cup was still very apparent, the disappointment palpable in the air. The taxi’s tires sounded a methodical cadence against the moist pavement in the eerily quiet streets as I progressed to my apartment.

I arrived in the neighborhood of Vila Madalena, a series of vertical towers arranged on steep hills. Stepping from the cab I walked to the gate, pressed the callbox, and waited. For my stay, I had arranged to rent a room from a stranger via Airbnb. Now alone in the dark rain, isolated by a language barrier, I suddenly wondered if perhaps this had been a poor choice. The voice through the speaker box responded in Portuguese. With a click and buzz, the gate unlocked. Inside the elevator labored its way to the thirteenth floor. When it finally stopped, I stepped out and knocked on the apartment door. Luiza greeted me and welcomed me inside. Her apartment was arranged simply with mid-century modern furnishings. A band of single-pane windows spanned the living room, framing an endless expanse of towers, the profiles shaped by the fragmented lights of their inhabitants. 

The voice through the speaker box responded in Portuguese. With a click and buzz, the gate unlocked. Inside the elevator labored its way to the thirteenth floor. When it finally stopped, I stepped out and knocked on the apartment door. Luiza greeted me and welcomed me inside. Her apartment was arranged simply with mid-century modern furnishings. A band of single-pane windows spanned the living room, framing an endless expanse of towers, the profiles shaped by the fragmented lights of their inhabitants.

Vila Madalena

Luiza and I immediately connected as we discussed design. As a professional photographer, Luiza has a great pulse on the artistic energy of her city. It wasn’t until later that I realized I was staying in the epicenter of modern Sao Paulo. Vila Madalena is a neighborhood in transition. Over the past decade a youthful, artistic crowd has relocated to the area. The streets are lined with beautifully painted walls and garage door murals, which weave together to form a colorful neighborhood tapestry.

Trendy new clubs, celebrity chef restaurants, and boutique stores crowd the commercial core. Modern residential towers designed by popular young architects are sprouting up. Some call this transformation gentrification, but the energy and veracity are electrifying. This is the place to be in Sao Paulo.

I had the opportunity to join Luiza and her friends and explore the alluring nightlife. We ducked into hot spot bars and caught movies projected on alleyway walls. We talked about modern politics and the struggles of our generation. The energy and rhythm of this place is difficult to put into words; its pulse gathers momentum throughout the day until it becomes an insistent, pounding drumbeat. Vila Madalena is unapologetically authentic in its evolving identity, confronting the challenges of change with an optimistically youthful naiveté.

Paulista and Downtown

Paulista sits atop one of the highest ridges in Sao Paulo. Radio towers compete with financial institutions for this prime location, which loom down over the city below. Historically this has been the epicenter of finance, and thus the most powerful district in the city. Paulista is easily accessible by bus or metro, and because of this access to mass transit, the area is starting to change. Museums have relocated here and some of the neighboring hillsides are occupied by expensive dining haunts, yoga studios, and high-end gyms. Modern furniture stores and lighting galleries are cropping up. The scale feels more urban than Vila Madalena, with a wide avenue bordered by a continuous wall of skyscrapers. Unlike Madalena, there are fewer trees and people don’t amble; instead they move at a quick clip toward their next destination. This neighborhood didn’t feel "lived in," and it was hard to speculate how many people actually call it home.

Continuing down the ridge, I arrived in the historic downtown of Sao Paulo. Unlike the business-centric vibe of Paulista, downtown retains a historic feeling. Massive stone cathedrals, old-growth trees, colonial buildings, and modern high-rises all intermingle. Downtown felt like it was the most dynamic of the neighborhoods I wandered. It is and always has been in motion, and it felt comfortable in its identity. Roads burrow through hillsides, and bridges span ancient creek beds. In the downtown center, many streets surrender to the demands of the pedestrian. These walking streets are crowded with a mix of business people and the residents who live here. Downtown was not quiet, but it had absolutely everything one would need to live and work in a single place. It had the density and amenities to be a truly walkable community.

Daybreak arrived and I found myself again navigating the damp, crowded streets as I made my way to the airport. I didn’t yet know what Rio de Janeiro would have to offer, but I knew it would be markedly different. As the wiper blades slid across the windshield, I recalled my time here. Sao Paulo is dirty, complex, rough. Its history is troubled and unglamorous. But it is precisely this richly textured history that makes it a true city. Perhaps it’s the imperfections that keep visitors away, but these wrinkles keep Sao Paulo authentic. It’s these wrinkles that make it so great.

South American Adventure, Part 1

Each year Ankrom Moisan offers a travel scholarship to a lucky employee (or two) wanting to further their professional knowledge. Individuals are encouraged to submit applications that detail where they would like to go and what kind of insight they hope to glean during their travels. This year two scholarships were awarded: one to Seattle-based architect Levi Rippy, who proposed studying urban housing in Buenos Aires, Sao Paulo, and Rio de Janeiro.

Part 1: Buenos Aires, Argentina

My journey started with 13 days in the romantic Argentine capital. Arriving early in the morning, dawn pulled back its veil to reveal a new city. I was here to study urban housing, and as the taxi weaved through a dense morning commute I knew that I had found a great place to start my adventure. When the cab stopped I found myself standing outside of a nondescript door marked simply with its address. The well-worn cobbles bathed in the warm winter light; I had arrived in San Telmo. Through the door was a beautifully renovated complex of simple rooms, a picturesque patio, and the owner’s apartment. This place, with its changing flow of residents, would be my home for the next two weeks.

San Telmo

This is one of the oldest neighborhoods in Buenos Aires. Narrow, one-way, cobbled streets are contained by short, four-story stone row houses. The street level is a mix of retail, offices, and restaurants. Defensa Street is the backbone of the neighborhood, hosting the local craft market every Sunday. The street is closed for its entire length, filled with people peddling their crafts. Performers occupy the corners, playing instruments, dancing, or showing some fanciful talent. An empty lot, normally reserved as a car park during the week, transforms into a lively picnic ground. Locally-made sausages are grilled, and their flavored smoke fills the air. You can pull up a chair and take in a tango show. I pause, taking in the smells, flavors, and sounds. It all feels very Argentine. This neighborhood is alive, and the whole city comes out to be a part of it. This was the perfect place for me to call home. 

Sunday Market, San Telmo, Buenos Aires

Palermo and Recoleta

Beloved for the cemetery and polo grounds, it is easy to understand that Palermo and Recoleta are the neighborhoods of money and power. High-end retail stores, five-star hotels, embassies, and the blue-dollar exchange houses are all here. The streets are cleaner, stripped of their urban patina, and parks are filled with dog walkers with their wealthy clientele’s pets. People live in high-rise buildings that were funded by wealthy individuals concerned with leaving a legacy. During the day it is quiet, as most people have left to do work in the city center. At night the cafés and clubs are alive with the late night vibrancy that Buenos Aires is known for. The neighborhood has the air of exclusivity, but in a more welcoming sense. It’s like a gated community that always leaves the gate open; you reluctantly enter, fully acknowledging the threshold you cross.

Recoleta, Buenos Aires

Puerto Madero

This is the new and booming part of Buenos Aires. Cut off from the city by the canal, this underdeveloped area has been the focus of new development. Cranes dot the horizon, and towers reach new heights. Starchitects battle for projects here. Zoning has clearly been created to provide for a livable neighborhood, but it is too new, too clean, too planned to know yet if it will work. The streets are wider, designed for anticipated cars; the prices of food reflect the trendy atmosphere of the restaurants. It is an area where all looks so perfect—until you realize there is no place an average worker can afford lunch. The entire neighborhood caters to a small and specific crowd, so it lacks that diversity that makes a truly urban neighborhood. It is sterile, restricting one's experience to a series of hermetically sealed spaces—from car to condo to café. It’s urban, but with more focus on polish than grit.

As I pack my bags and prepare for my next stop, I find the experience of Buenos Aires lingering sweetly on my tongue. The movement of tango, the smell of choripán, the sticky touch of dulce de leche, the taste of the first glass of Malbec—they all coalesce into that experience that is the City of Fair Winds.

Puerto Madero, Buenos Aires