The Art and Science of Perspective

It's another quiet Sunday morning and I'm up earlier than I'd like - I always seem to be - my companion cup of coffee by my side, my thoughts scattered across a multitude of work projects and personal to-do lists; of changing seasons and new beginnings and comforts in the smallest things. The gazebo beckons, but I'm hesitant, though a sit down, listen-to-the-world type morning might be just what I need to still the turbulence inside.

The neighbour's cat pops in through the broken screen on our front door, helping himself to our hospitality and the bowl of dry cat food on the kitchen floor belonging to our resident feline, who allows this with mostly indifference but sometimes makes an effort to display his dominance and reminds the free-loading neighbour who the real boss is. I would fix that screen, but the door is slated to be replaced soon (we hope) with the upcoming renovation - it has been upcoming for quite some time, hasn't it? - and, really, the other cat is pretty darned cute and loveable, and purrs when you pick him up, and you know how that goes...

The boy's football season is underway again, and after 2 games the Falcon's sit atop the standings at 2-0, a great start but they haven't really been tested yet.

He's playing strong-side linebacker and is a punishing defender with amazing closing speed who loves to hit. And you know he's still 12, right? His defensive coach came over from another city team that didn't have enough players to field their own squad this season, and I think the boy has caught his eye. I'm not coaching this year, and it's nice not to be so close to the team; to be able to enjoy the games from the stands and not from the sidelines. I think the distance helps him too, and allows him to develop within his own comfort zone and personality far enough out of our eyes and ears to become who he will be. But it's still nice when he asks for my take on his performance after games and practices, and I try to be a supportive parent first and a former football coach second.

* * *

Spent last Sunday afternoon checking out the touring Da Vinci exhibition downtown. An inspirational couple of hours spent walking in the footsteps of an amazing, inquiring mind. His desire to completely understand his world led to scientific and artist breakthroughs that we take for granted today. A visionary who over 500 years ago had designs for a parachute, a diving suit and tank-like vehicle, also gave the world the genius of his talents with a brush and paint. His detailed notes and sketches of his ideas are fascinating to behold, and his anatomical investigations and subsequent renderings pioneered and forever altered the world of physiology and started us on our journey towards understanding how the human body works.

Say nothing of great works of art like The Mona Lisa or The Last Supper.

We walked through rooms full of recreations of his inventions and mock-ups of some of simple machines that would forever change our world. Things we take for granted today like ball bearings and meshed gears; eccentric cams and pulleys and levers. The boy enjoyed trying to understand how they worked, and you could see his mind's gears and wheels turning as he studied and handled the wooden contraptions.

It was difficult not to walk away from that exhibition in awe of Da Vinci's vision and understanding of his world. As we drove home we discussed what we had just learned and I wondered how many more discoveries were waiting to be unearthed from the everyday around us, and whether another mind of Da Vinci's genius would ever grace our time.

* * *

I was on the road this week for work, overseeing the final weeks of a new retail store build out a couple hours away, while trying to finish 3 more back here in the city at the same time. It's the 'feast or famine' scenario, and even though we knew it would likely be like this, the delays and changes and unforeseen issues that inevitably pop up on all the sites take their toll on me. It's a delicate balance, and it's easy to feel overwhelmed and out of control. The detail oriented perfectionist who understands and respects the designer's and client's needs and concerns but can't deliver as he'd like due to conditions beyond his control, can easily forget that this is all really just business, and solutions will present themselves and things will work out with patience and an open mind.

Especially when it seems the people onsite directly responsible for creating the final product appear not to share the outcome-driven focus and willingness to accept challenges as a means for creative problem solving. Herding cats would be easier most days...

It's nice to return home after a stressful few days on the road where everything gets magnified by your proximity to the situation, back to the familiar surroundings of comforts like your own bed, the slightly worn bearing in the kitchen exhaust fan that squeals just so as you try to nap on the couch, the disorganized desk that calls for you to get it back in order (which you dutifully ignore) and the welcome-home-how-do-you-do of a hot water heater that waited for your arrival before leaking water all over the laundry room floor and the dishwasher that decided you needed to investigate the flashing error code on its display...

Disconnecting and checking the dishwasher's electrical and water supply/drainage lines is straightforward mechanical logic rooted in science. As is the replacement of the worn hot water tank's temperature/pressure relief valve. Identify the problem, locate the required resources to correct said problem, then proceed through the necessary series of actions to solve said problem. Managing others to do the same or similar on a jobsite within a myriad of fluctuating timelines, external conditions and agendas under the constant constraints of time and money takes a different set of skills and a different mindset. And a huge dose of patience and an ability to and willingness to work well with others. Some days I have them. Some days I don't so much.

I didn't make it to the gazebo - not yet anyway - but I've found some solace in the week's events. Da Vinci reminded me that art and science aren't separate entities but rather share a relationship within the framework of form and function. Perspective is the key to understanding in all areas, whether it be trying to solve a logistics issue on a commercial jobsite or the reason why gallons of hot water are running across the floor. How you view a problem directly determines how you will find a solution for it. Da Vinci was blessed with the ability of exceptional perspective and it allowed him to uncover many mysteries of his world. He used it to create amazing works of art and a multitude of scientific inventions and designs that helped get us where we are today.

The familiar comforts of home and family, whatever they may be for you, can and should be used to better frame your perspective of the world, from which you can move forward confidently and with purpose, knowing you can solve the problems you will undoubtably face. Identifying those issues and solving those problems is really a science. Finding comfort in the face of those problems and issues?

Well, that parts the art.

A Gardener's Lawn

It's Tuesday, it's cloudy, and we need rain. Of course it's no guarantee that we'll get any moisture out of the system currently hovering over us, and the cracks in the yard are getting larger and more numerous everyday. Some neighbours are watering religiously, trying to maintain that lush green lawn that normally takes little management beyond weeding and mowing, but this year they are fighting mother nature, and she usually wins. Lawns in the shade seem to be doing well, but those in direct sunlight are scorched and brown and dusty, to the point where we wonder if the grass will survive and grow again next year

We know better.

Grass can look after itself. It has millions of years of history on it's side to attest to it's tenacity and perseverance. Give it a little water and some bright sun shine, and it will grow, slowly at first maybe, but then it sends out roots and establishes new plants and over time sets in and turns a brown or black landscape green. Yes weeds are a natural part of that process; establishing more quickly than the seeded grasses, holding nutrients in the soil and preventing everything from blowing into the neighbour's yard. Over time the grass fills in and with help from a careful gardener whose timely plucking of the undesirable, naturally occurring vegetation, shifts the balance in favour of the grass, and a lawn is born.

Of course a weed-free lawn is the perfection, and only exists in the mind of the gardener. The reality is something altogether different, and involves a war-like arsenal of tools and chemicals or back-breaking stooping and pulling. A constant struggle to one-up mother nature and her amazing ability to keep hiding dandelions and thistles amongst the blades of grass.

Yes, grass can look after itself, but it finds a natural balance with other plants and species in a confined space; a natural harmony that escapes man's quest for perfection and order.

It's like my desk.

I like a clean desk, with its organized spaces and open flat surfaces upon which to spread files and plans and papers; the filing drawers filled with neatly arranged and properly labelled folders, everything and anything available to me at a moments notice with minimal effort and maximum efficiency.

Let's backtrack.

I like THE IDEA of a clean desk. Just like the gardener likes THE IDEA of a weed-free lawn. But I seem to have more paper dandelions and thistles on my desk these days than lush green lawn spaces of organization. If I try with enough effort, I can convince myself that my desk is a natural balance of work harmony, a glorious scene of colour and foliage, ripe with blooms and life, a thing of beauty to be treasured and admired as I sit and enjoy the surroundings.

Yes, I can be delusional with the best of them.

Spent the weekend back home - small-town, childhood-memories, home - celebrating the 25th wedding anniversary of my brother and sister-in-law at a come-and-go-tea at the local Senior's Centre. Rows of tables and chairs set out to welcome old friends and neighbours, with trays of cookies and dessert squares over by the barrel of juice; the silver industrial-sized pots of coffee and tea on the other paper-clothed table in front of the Centre's kitchen pass-thru window with a plate of teaspoons and ranks of cups stationed to their right, the staple of a community gathering, constantly filled and refilled over the course of a summer afternoon.

We visited with familiar faces and caught up with old friends and gazed around the room trying to place the as yet unrecognized, wondering if we should know them, if we ever did know them, and with hushed lean-ins, whispered queries to each other hoping to prop up fading memories of a different time. The children, dreading an afternoon trapped in a ancient museum of a place, all had their electronic comforts close by, likely texting each other a table or two away, but eventually the nieces and nephews broke through the boredom and conversed and laughed, the younger set chasing around the perimeter, burning abundant energy until crashing for a well deserved nap later; the older set even playing cards, while the guests of honour worked the room and shared congratulatory conversations and listened to and told the same old stories.

A digital photo slideshow on an infinite loop played in the background, showcasing the couple from their childhood years through to courtship and marriage and into the family stages, a lifetime's worth of memories compressed into a few minutes of ooh's and aw's and remember-when's.

The wedding album from that day 25 year's ago sat on a table near the Centre's entrance, and a quick thumb through before the guests arrived confirmed that we were all kids back then; skinnier, with more and bigger hair, and very questionable fashion choices. The children of course loved that. The boy was amused that dad ever looked like that and thought it terribly humorous to continually remind me all afternoon - of course I pointed out that he has my genes, and karma's a bitch, so tread lightly young padawan. Enjoy it while you can.

I looked around the room at the faces of people I once knew, and of those I still do, trying to find the order and neatness of the event which my brain craves. Some faces are gone, missing in time, the reminder that fate plays no favorites; others have remained mostly unchanged from how I remembered them, many more have changed beyond memory, and some have grown into those of their fathers or mothers. I watched the children of friends, themselves becoming adults before my eyes, and time stood still for awhile and the voices around me faded away and I saw a room full of energy at every stage of life, a constant process, marked only by the effects of time.

It wasn't that long ago we were the ones chasing each other around the room, or those bored beyond belief in that self-centered ego filled world of teenagerdom, and the pictures prove we most certainly were those wide eyed kids in the tuxedos with the big hair and the stiff poses, and it seems like yesterday we had the toddlers in tow, and now we're the ones closing in on milestone anniversaries ourselves. Soon we'll be the faces of those couples and individuals shaking hands and giving hugs and wishing the happy couple well.

Like the slideshow on the projector in the back of the hall, a lifetime gets reduced to minutes of memories, the smiles, the moments captured and remembered forever, treasured, admired. Time carries us along on it's journey, and the distant forgotten moments are left behind, like the gardeners weeds plucked out of the lush green lawn, removed in hopes of creating the perfect ordered life. But we know the weeds are there, just like those stray dandelions and thistles hiding under the blades of grass, and the wise gardeners know it's the contrast between them that makes the lawn seem more vibrant and fuller.

Happy gardening.