2010 HOW Conference: A Review (PART I)

The reason for all of my recent Denver posts? I had the opportunity to attend the 2010 HOW Design Conference, this year hosted by the mile high city. It was a week of inspiration and idea generation peppered with brash self indulgence and rank ego. As a newbie to the whole experience, here is my unbiased, day-by-day review.

SUNDAY, JUNE 6: Anticipation building for kick-off, the massive Denver Convention Centre was a sea of hipsters, hippies, those who took themselves way too seriously and those who didn't. Our creative department filed into the main ballroom, ready to be blown away by the keynote speaker who was described as "an innovative thinker" offering a "jolt of inspiration sure to get our creative juices flowing". Well...sadly, he turned out to be no Kool-Aid man ("Oh Yeaahh?" Oh Noooooooo). In fact, I seriously questioned whether he had been partying with Lindsay Lohan prior to hitting the stage. His entire speech was so frenetic, disjointed and above all LOUD that at times I felt like I was sitting in on an audition for a Michael Bay film (and, as such, wanted to walk out). What did I learn from it? Nothing really, other than the fact that his dog somehow helped him get an invoice paid from an insolvent client. Now there's a skill I need to teach Monty. 

After a bizarre beginning to the evening, we (along with thousands of other graphic designers) swarmed into the fabled resource centre for product samples, one-on-one conversation with suppliers and, above-all-else, free t-shirts. It was at this moment that the true power of my job became apparent. Design/Marketing is SO important in how your product/service is perceived. For example: while several stock photography companies were on-hand passing out swag, the ones with the cheaply produced and/or useless giveaways didn't merit any attention. Even though they spent thousands on being there, if their display/handouts weren't as good or better than their neighbour, I wasn't paying attention. Nor were others. It is the modern reality that everyone suffers from A.D.D. 

Getting back to those same stock photography companies...I found it ironic that there was so much emphasis placed on getting graphic designers to join AIGA, as it will supposedly elevate the profession and generate more respect for the trade by promoting established standards. But in the almighty quest for the dollar, HOW threw another artistic profession (photography) under the bus by seeking sponsorship from companies that sell pictures/illustrations for as low as $1.00. That wasn't cool and is just as bad, if not worse, than having someone develop a logo for fifty bucks and a coupon for a free Whopper. The photographer on my team also wasn't impressed. It needs to be realized that all right-brained souls are in this together; we may suck at analytics, but collectively we do make the world a prettier, more interesting place and gosh-darnit that means something too. Neither should be devalued. 

Part II to follow...

Rocky Mountain Low

"UNITED SUCKS!" The scream cut the tension filled air at Denver International Airport the evening of Friday, June 11. Two-thirds of the SIAST Creative Department were stranded there after a tornado formed over the control tower. At first, we were in awe of nature...observing as windstreams combined to form a cumulous ballet. Then things got ugly. Flights were delayed for hours, then cancelled outright. We had moved from one gate to the next in what seemed like a grand game of musical chairs. Soon they ran out. This is when things got real ugly. People just kept piling in until every square inch of space was covered in flesh (most of which sorely needed deodorant at this point). Wandering over to read the departure board, I was surprised to read that my own flight back to Saskatoon had been cancelled (ne'er an announcement had been made). Sighing (and cursing), I made my way to the United Customer Service desk, now a mile long. 

Two hours later, I was speaking to a CSR and discussing my options (of which there were none). There were no direct flights back until the following Sunday evening. I wouldn't be given any accommodation or food vouchers, much less a toothbrush or even a half-chewed piece of gum. My luggage? There would be no access to it. I could, however, get a stand-by ticket to Calgary where I had a much better chance of eventually getting home. I took the ticket and bid the United Rep adieu (while cursing). 

Not satisfied, I made my way to a different United Customer Service desk where I inquired how long I would have to wait until knowing for certain that I was heading to Calgary. This CSR told me I would know once everyone had boarded (at 1:00am; it was now 11:00pm). She then inquired about my luggage. I could only get on if my bags were checked for this particular flight. The earlier CSR had not mentioned this, nor initiated the transfer. There is a certain level of trust when checking one's bags that the airline you are dealing with will take care of them. I merely expected my own bags to be re-routed to Timbuktu; I had no idea they would result in me being denied entry onto any other international flight! ARGH!!! I now understood why that lone hero let out the "United sucks" rallying cry. They do suck. Big time. I couldn't get on any other flights. I couldn't get my luggage. I was trapped in an airport, blood boiling, armpits sweating. I didn't know what to do...I was then offered a flight to Chicago(!) where I could probably get to Saskatoon sooner. I accepted and left for a quiet hotel as sleeping with the masses is something best left to Paris Hilton. 

Awaking at 4:00am, I again made my way to the airport, past the creepy mural of dead children, through security, back on the tram to my terminal and headed to the United Customer Service desk. If there's one thing I learned from all those years watching The Amazing Race, it's to talk to different airline staff. Under the veil of corporate nametags, these people are just as unorganized as anyone else but eventually someone - SOMEONE - will come through. And thus, I met my new favorite person in the world, who will remain nameless not for privacy reasons but because I was so happy after our encounter I forgot to ask his name. For he got me the LAST seat on a direct flight back home (leaving only a few hours away). My good day did not end there though...after arriving at Saskatoon, I expected my luggage to be A.W.O.L., but lo-and-behold, there it was...spinning around the conveyor. If an inanimate object could express emotion, it would. For my suitcase was just as happy to see me, as I was to see it. We shared a moment. 

Tornado forming above control tower, Denver Int.l Airport:

Standing room only; the start of a late night:

Creepy mural inside Denver Int.l Airport. Because seeing dead people before flying is reassuring:

Rocky Mountain High

After experiencing some stomach turning turbulence, we landed in the mile high city. Our mandate was to attend the 2010 HOW Design Conference, however, extra days were also allocated for leisure. I have never been to Denver (my father says I have when I was a child but memories of this escape me) thus I was well excited for some sightseeing. The first curious thing that caught my attention upon arrival was the airport. I have read numerous paranoid schizophrenic articles about the Denver International Airport's supposed Illuminati connection. While intriguing (and entertaining), I didn't have enough time to truly explore the symbology or pet the "horse of the apocalypse". Still on my list of must-sees, though. I've already bought a carrot to appease it. No, the arrival gates of this particular hub were just boring gray hallways. Long hallways. Super long hallways, like whoa! With sporadic Native American chanting filtering through the speakers. It was as confusing as the exterior spaceship/abstract mountain range/rip off of the Vancouver Pan-Pacific structure. I will write more about it upon departure. 

After putting away our suitcases and resting for all of 3 minutes, we hit the avenue. 16th Avenue that is. Cowboy boots. Souvenir stands - and, sadly, many destitute individuals. We passed a small park filled with hundreds of people. As I craned my head to see what was going on, I realized they were waiting for the Mission to open. Even more people were snaked around the block, all of them fighting off stagnant heat and hunger. It's a stark contrast becoming evermore common in the 21st century: cardboard boxes neighboring half a million dollar condos. Doesn't seem right. At the people's fair the next day, there were even booths set up providing information on how to deal with bankruptcy next to booths selling candy apples. Truly a sign of the times. The City of Denver is helping eradicate the problem in creative ways however, including setting up parking meters in high traffic locations where the funds specifically aid the homeless population. 

Another thing I noticed about Denver was how dog-friendly the city was. There were urban pooches of all breeds and sizes enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of the downtown area. Patrons were even allowed to tie up their pets next to the patio table of many restaurants. Stark contrast to Saskatoon, where canines are outright banned from a lot of parks. The world is better with dogs in it. More people need to embrace that fact. I managed to find a really neat pet store at Larimer Square and got my own wee furball a few treats and toys. I also bought my parents (who are petsitting my wee furball) a few treats and toys as a thank you. It's the least I can do considering all the mischief Monty is probably up to. 

My comrades and I later enjoyed dinner at 'The Cheesecake Factory', a restaurant that people love to rave about. I admit, the chain had me at "cheesecake"...but then lost me after I was presented with my plate of fried macaroni balls. The macaroni itself was delicious. You really can't go wrong with any recipe that includes cheese (again, see "cheesecake"). However the marinara was pink and soggy. Testament to how important presentation is in dining, I couldn't stop imaging that I was consuming a plate of pus-and-blood (TMI, I know). My associates' meals were just as curious...one ordered an individually-sized taco platter that could have fed a small army and the other ordered a salad that was the Mt. Everest of lettuce. While the person outside is starving, those being served are given twice (thrice!) as much as they can stomach. Welcome to America. 

And the Colorado Rocky Mountain high
I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky
I know he'd be a poorer man if he never saw an eagle fly

*As I forgot the cable that connects my camera to my laptop, pictures will be added at a later time. 

Planet of the Apes

I realize that I never did finish my Japan travelogue. Amidst moving to another province and starting a new job, a few things got lost in the shuffle including my Led Zeppelin IV original LP, my beloved Mickey Mouse pajamas and my mind. And it's a damn shame because I really love 'Stairway to Heaven'. Anyway, I was just getting to the best part of my excursion to the land of the rising sun - Hiroshima and Miyajima Island, home to hundreds of feces-flinging wild monkeys. Duck!!!

If I didn't realize it before, the train ride from Tokyo to Hiroshima definitely made me understand just how dense the population of Japan is; the entire island is just one MASSIVE megalopolis with Tokyo blending into Osaka, Osaka blending into Kobe...and everything meeting at land's end in Hiroshima. The contrast between it and Saskatchewan, the definition of wide open space, was like polar opposites. This is why Harajuku Girls exist...because it's easy to get lost in the sea of humanity. If I were to emulate their wicked style here in Saskatoon, I would be committed. Simply having all my teeth here is enough to stand out. I keed. I keed. 

Downtown Hiroshima: 

My first impression upon arriving at Hiroshima was that it was a working class, accessible alternative to the technological glitz and glamour that exists elsewhere in the country. More 20th century as opposed to the year 3000 ambitions of other Japanese locales. The city's tragic history could not be ignored though; a permanent calm hanging in the air was a blaring reminder of the horrific, world-altering events that transpired on August 6, 1945. Admittedly, Peace Park and the Peace Memorial Museum were the reasons for my visit. They are the main things that every tourist wants to see. It is twisted that a place with so much palpable sadness is a tourist destination, but I am only human and I want to see what humans are capable of. 

A-Bomb Dome: 

Atomic Bomb Memorial Mound (over 70,000 people are buried here):

From the Peace Memorial Museum, thermal rays from the Atomic bomb blast have permanently embedded a shadow of one of the victims: 

A young boy's school uniform after the attack:

Wherever I travel, I like to observe the native wildlife. My opportunity in Japan was a trek to Miyajima Island, home of the aforementioned feces-flinging wild monkeys and a few docile deer. I tell ya...I have been around lions, tigers and bears but nothing has made me belatedly wish for a pair of liquid-absorbant underwear like these hairy beasts did. They were insane! Running about, pounding their chests and attacking anything that got in their way or smelled of cheese. I knew I didn't stand a chance. My cousin is the moon. Gathering my thoughts in the observation deck, I made a gameplan. I would leave my backpack behind and hike up Mount Misen (the highest peak on the island) as fast as my feet would take me. Awaiting at the top was a Buddhist shrine where I could ask forgiveness from the Heavens for violently murdering all those mosquitoes over the years, thus hopefully restoring good animal karma once again. 

Traveling by ferry to Miyajima Island: 

Itsukushima Shrine: 

Chill deer: 

You are forewarned:

Don't make eyecontact...don't make eyecontact...:

Buddhist Shrine at the top of Mount Misen:

The existence of God is debatable but the view from the top I was granted made me believe: 

After experiencing some of the most beautiful scenery my eyes have ever witnessed, we made our way from Hiroshima to Kyoto. Every - and I mean EVERY - travel book from Fodor's to Frommer's has written about how beautiful this former imperial capital is and touted it as THE must see spot in the country. It's supposed to represent "true" Japan, they wrote. It's supposed to be a delicate flower, the antithesis of Tokyo's brash weed. I just wasn't feeling it though and ended up leaving early. Sure, Kyoto is aesthetically and cosmetically different from the rest of Japan, with narrow streets evoking a bygone era when Honda and Nissan were just the names of oxen. However, I felt like I had seen it all before...it reminded me of numerous other Asian townships that I have visited. The one thing that I wished to capture through my camera lens in Kyoto proved elusive: the life of a Geisha is a dying art. 

Your Occasional Monty:

Miniature Pencils & Multi-Coloured Balls

I recently finished reading Weird Places in Saskatchewan and Manitoba by Glenda MacFarlane. It's an entertaining exploration of geologic and cultural oddities to be found in both prairie provinces, hence its massive 10,000 page count. In all seriousness though, there are plenty of intriguing places that I would now like to visit such as Little Manitou Lake (which is saltier than the Dead Sea), the Great Wall of Smiley (visible from space) and the world's largest pair of underwear, which thankfully don't have my name sewn in them. I plan on chronicling my discoveries on this very blog. First off, the shopping centre that time forgot: Market Mall in Saskatoon. 

My favorite non-Wii related sport is miniature golf, so it was with great excitement that I made my way to Market Mall on Preston Avenue for an after-hours office shindig consisting of miniature pencils and multi-coloured balls. From the outside, Market Mall appeared to be bustling. There were plenty of vehicles in the lot and enough anchor stores (Safeway, Zellers) to give the illusion of economic prosperity. Upon setting foot within it's hallowed corridors, however, I realized that Market Mall in Saskatoon is no different than Fort Richmond Plaza in Winnipeg (coincidentally also with anchor stores Safeway and Zellers); an un-ironic throwback to the 80s...or as one co-worker coined it, the place "where dreams go to die". 

As I arrived early for our tee time, I passed the time by people-watching. The elusive dodo bird made an appearance before a living, breathing soul did, however, the dead silence was eventually interrupted by the sound of motorized scooters transporting the elderly from Hoffer Denture Clinic to the Ex-Cell Hearing Centre. The mall seemed to cater to seniors, as these were the only stores that were open at 6:30pm on a Wednesday night. Well, Boutique of Leathers was also open for business, but I'm trying to block the mental image of anyone over 60 ANYONE wearing chaps. Just...no. At 6:55pm (and not a moment too soon), my compatriots arrived and it was time for a tournament. 

The miniature golf at Market Mall is said to be styled off of the iconic greens of Pebble Beach. In person though, one quickly realizes that this is industry speak for "we were too cheap to buy a windmill". It's a straightforward set-up, offering no real hazards other than the meandering pond that flows through the course. It's off-clear tint left me suspicious that it may lead a double-life as a urinal but fortunately I bore no witness to potty behavior on this night. The fish were also thankful, however, I'm pretty sure most wished they were in an actual toilet instead. It would save them from getting pelted with pennies:

Actually, coins don't kill fish. People kill fish (because they are tasty).
Another sign warned adventure seekers to think twice before diving into a six-inch deep pond:

CANNONBALL - I'm totally bringing floaties next time I head to Market Mall! Which may be soon, as I am homesick and if there's anything here to remind me of Winnipeg, it would be a mall with empty storefronts and the stagnant smell of mothballs in the air.

By the end of the night, I managed to score two hole-in-ones but the real achievement was making it out alive. Yes, I survived Market Mall: Saskatoon's answer to the Bermuda Triangle. 

Your Occasional Monty:

Travel Manitoba/Destination Winnipeg: A Critique

I've been away from my home province for three months now battling the occasional bout of homesickness. My family and friends trigger memories of course, but there are also other things I miss such as leisurely hikes around Bird's Hill Park and a nice slice of Santa Lucia Pizza (mmmmmmmmmmm...I'm going to be craving that all weekend now). However, had I not been born in the land of lakes and Burton Cummings, it would certainly be a case of "out of sight, out of mind" as the two main travel authorities - Travel Manitoba and Destination Winnipeg - don't seem to promote the province well outside of their keystone boundary. 

A few weeks ago, I won an iPod from Saskatoon Shines, the local civic tourism branch. When I went into their offices to collect my bounty, I noticed that they had, amongst the racks of promotional items for Saskatchewan sights and events, brochures and information packages on Alberta, British Columbia, Yukon, Northwest Territories and even Nunavut. Not a Manitoba pamphlet in the bunch. I chalked it up to our infamous rivalry and petty jealousy over our football team being superior the fact that Winnipeg is getting an IKEA first. 

A short while later, I took a trip further west to Banff, Alberta. Stopping at several visitor information centres (on both sides of the border), I again noticed how, in addition to touting local tourism hotspots, other provinces and even U.S. states were offering marketing materials in an attempt to lure travellers (and their money) to visit. So where was Manitoba? Alberta couldn't possibly hate Manitoba for having a superior football team. Nor could they be jealous over the shiny new IKEA, when they have two. I started to contemplate whether it was because we brought the world Burton Cummings, but then I started to laugh while thinking of his moustache thus losing my train of thought for a few weeks and now I'm here revisiting the question again: how in the world is Travel Manitoba and Destination Winnipeg promoting the province? Even the success of "Homecoming 2010" is questionable; the entire creative department crew at my new job is originally from Manitoba...and none of them have heard about it! 

A Winnipeg associate that is well-versed/well-known in tourism marketing had told me that both of these entities focus a lot of their efforts on attracting visitors from bigger, more cosmopolitan centres because it gives the illusion that the city is on a level playing field. For instance, money is spent promoting the province to New Yorkers. I can't help but wonder how many New Yorkers can even find Winnipeg on a map, much less actually WANT to travel there. Which begs me to ask, why aren't they more actively pursuing tourists from neighboring provinces? As Saskatoon is on the Yellowhead, why can't I pick up a brochure for, say, Riding Mountain National Park while on my way? Perhaps it's part of a new MPI initiative...the less vehicles that stop in the province, the more the car theft rate will decrease. Or maybe Manitoba's battered highways just can't take the additional traffic. 

I don't have a formal education in marketing. I'm just the go-to person to make things look pretty. However, it would seem logical to me to at least be where your competition is. Promote the culture. Promote the cuisine. Retire the assumption that everything is "world class" and instead focus on being in a class of your own. 

Anyways, Burton Cummings. Mustache. LOL. Good times. 

Copycat is the New Dog

Imitation, they say, is the sincerest form of flattery. Let's see what my lawyer thinks. A few weeks ago, I received an e-mail from a mysterious individual about the launch of a new Winnipeg-based dog website, which sounded very similar to my own creation Winnipegdogs.com (est. January 2008). Apparently, the author (who claims to enjoy my dog blog regularly) felt that there was room in the local market for two competing canine-centered sites. Not having been provided any links to check out this venture for myself, I brushed it off as nothing. After all, the person who sent the e-mail didn't even bother identifying themselves; how serious should I take them?

After doing updates on the Winnipegdogs Facebook page, I noticed a number of wall posts from a new member (again, no name provided) referring people to this new copycat site. Clickity-click, I was directed to a URL remarkably similar to my own (how creative) and a home page that appeared to be influenced from my work as well. It was the Hyundai to my Honda. The Justin Beiber to my Justin Timberlake. Becoming increasingly annoyed, my emotions turned to rage after clicking on the "Donations" page - this new copycat site wasn't soliciting donations for the benefit of local animal shelters...they were soliciting donations for their own operating costs (none of which were specified)!!! For shame. For shame. 

I would like to leave a note that in NO WAY whatsoever is Winnipegdogs.com affiliated with this imitation. We created the website (and it's new sister site, SKDogs.com) because we have a genuine reverence for our furry, four-legged companions and do it on our own time and budget. I challenge this copycat to do likewise.  

There's Magic All Up In This Post

I haven't written about Juggalos since October 20, 2009 and I am ripe due for another post. Thankfully their fearless leaders, The Beatles of Generation Y (Why?), have blessed us with what may very well be the greatest thing to ever happen to the internet - Insane Clown Posse have dropped their latest video for "Miracles", a thought-provoking single that begs the question "f*%#in' magnets, how do they work?".

Behold their genius...I promise you, your life will forever be changed by clicking play: