To The Max

Deborah Clague November 17, 2022

The purpose of my recent visit to Los Angeles was to attend the Adobe Max conference. Billed as “the creativity conference”, the event was filled with inspiration, applied learning in the latest technology, discovery of trends and thought-provoking ideas when it comes to building a career or business in the industry. As a designer, the content was invaluable and highly needed after a long absence from connecting with my peers because of covid. I can’t wait to take things to the next level.

Adobe Max Conference 2022 — Attending the Adobe Max conference at Los Angeles Convention Centre (©2022, Deborah Clague).

DJ Steve Aoki performs at the Adobe Max party (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The Adobe Max party held at LA Live (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The Adobe Max party at LA Live. Guests were encouraged to participate in interactive art exhibits, such as this sequin reveal wall art (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Puppy de-stress zone, Adobe Max Vendor Hall (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Until next time, Adobe Max Conference 2022 (©Deborah Clague).

Voodoo

Deborah Clague November 11, 2019

For the second time, a snake came between my partner and I.

Literally.

Years ago we were on a romantic walk comparing the contrast in our upbringing when I boasted about being a “tough girl from Winnipeg”. With no word of a lie, right after the words fell from my mouth a snake came jutting out of the grass as if on cue and made me squeal like a frightened mouse. It was only a garter snake but my cover of toughness was foiled. My partner laughs about it to this day (it was beautifully set up by an malevolent God). On this occasion, while arguing over whether or not I was wearing appropriate shoes for a hike (I had on sandals as part of the Pacific Coast Trail would cover a beach and I didn’t want sand in my sneakers), my partner expressed that we couldn’t be certain which species of animals were native to the region including, perhaps, poisonous snakes which my feet were fully exposed to.

Again—no word of a lie—cue a snake slithering through the four (or so) feet of space between my partner and I.

What was originally supposed to be a relaxing hike with the ocean and all its majesty at my side ended with me screaming and sprinting back to the car as fast as I could.

For the record, this also ended up being a garter snake.

In Crescent City, CA, I got to see some less scary wildlife including several injured walruses being treated at a marine animal rehabilitation centre, and one curious sea lion swimming around the marina in search of fish. We later hit the 101 and began driving back north up the Oregon Coast to our next destination, Lincoln City.

Highway 101, also known as the Pacific Coast Highway, is one of the most scenic drives on the planet. It is a near constant vista of sand and surf for thousands of miles. I really wish I had a dash cam for this road trip to relive parts of it. What really amazed me was that there was hardly anyone on it. We were traveling during peak tourist season and for great stretches seemed to be the only two people in the universe. Oregon has always been like that though; even while traveling as a kid, I recall the beaches being mostly desolate. The temperature, while inviting for a Canadian, seemed to scare off most locals who appreciated it from a distance. These reasons contribute to the fact that I truly feel Oregon is the most underrated place in the United States. It’s all yours.

In Lincoln City, we stayed at a rented beach house. I tried not to get too comfortable as the lifestyle is beyond my means for anything longer than a few days. But should I ever land that long dreamed of lottery win, a home within earshot of the sound of waves lapping on a shore is at the top of my list. I had a lot of time to contemplate this as the weather was raining for most of our stay. I also thought about my father. This was one of HIS favourite spots as well. It feels like just yesterday we were here climbing the rocks with my childhood dog, Pepper, counting starfish, and marvelling at the giant kelp washed ashore each morning. Oh, how full of wonder the sea was and still is. But these memories are from long ago. Of a time that could never be replicated. So I store them in a heart-shaped box and aim to make new ones.

While finally turning round to head home, a stop at the legendary Voodoo Doughnut was a must. There are several locations within Portland, OR. The one I visited appeared to be an old casual sit-down restaurant that had it’s prime in the eighties (it specifically conjured memories of Bonanza Steakhouse for me, a long-gone staple of middle class Canadian dining). They outfitted the establishment to modern instagram-worthy tastes, including an exterior selfie wall and area for branded merchandise. I was not there for a t-shirt though, I wanted a doughnut (maybe two). The selection at Voodoo is legendary—I think they are the only place to have a doughnut shaped like a penis as part of their daily offerings—and at first I was overwhelmed with what to choose. I eventually settled on my favourites: one maple dip and one “voodoo doll” (which was a raspberry jam stuffed chocolate dip). After brief small talk with my server, I departed and went to my car to enjoy.

I bit that chocolate bastard’s head off in one bite.

It was a fitting conclusion to a “tough Winnipeg girl’s” summer of doughnuts.

Pier at Crescent City, California (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

View from living room of beach house rental, Lincoln City, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

View from beach house rental, Lincoln City, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Empty beach, Lincoln City, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Flora and fauna, Lincoln City, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Starfish, Lincoln City, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Sand art, Lincoln City, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Our rental beach house, Lincoln City, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

A rainy day excursion to the Tillamook Cheese Factory, Tillamook, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Voodoo Doughnut, Portland, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

San Francisco Vignette no.5

Deborah Clague December 4, 2014

It was 4:20pm. As the ferry back to Pier 33 embarked from Alcatraz, I made my way to the bow to secure the best spot for photographing San Francisco's skyline. Next to me stood two tourists from Mumbai. We entered into conversation about Goa, dolphin sightings and imagined life in maximum security prison.

"So what did you think of the tour?" I asked them.

"It was very interesting," one of the gentleman replied. "but I don't understand why everyone thinks it is bleak. I did not find it so. They were criminals and got the punishment they deserved."

San Francisco Vignette no.4

Deborah Clague December 3, 2014

It was 5:23pm. We were at Haight-Ashbury admiring the now commercialized former hub of the counter culture. I wanted to visit Whole Foods.

At Stanyan Street, I gazed into the eastern periphery of Golden Gate Park and felt a thousand eyes stare back at me amongst the darkness of the trees. Loitering about were young people, old people; some more weathered in appearance than others, some with canine companions. They congregated here with visions of 1969. Of free love and cheap drugs and being in the presence of their apostle Garcia, even though he - and the gospel he preached - were long dead.

Death changes everything.

"LSD. I can get you some LSD." a 20-something male with a yellow lab uttered to my companion and I.

I walked into Whole Foods.

San Francisco Vignette no.3

Deborah Clague November 29, 2014

It was 1:45pm. The purpose of my trip to San Francisco was ultimately business. I was attending a digital design conference hoping to acquire knowledge and inspiration from some of the greatest minds in the industry. Currently stationed at the podium was a content strategist from Facebook. As he spoke, I surveyed the audience. It consisted of a motley crew of marketers, designers and programmers each remaining amongst their own tribe and realm of self-importance. Half the room had their face buried in their phone. This is how we connect in the modern age; we speak to the world via an interface rather than to those at the same table.

Later in the evening, I went for a walk. One of the highlights of my trip was strolling through China Town at dusk and I used my limited time in the city to revisit its magic nightly. The colours, the scents, the noise … all weaved together to transport me to another world. My phone, in this setting, was used to capture a part of that.

San Francisco Vignette no.2

Deborah Clague November 26, 2014

It was 12:36pm. We were seated at a booth near a window overlooking the ice rink at Union Square. My lunch date talked about shopping and clothing and men but I wasn't really listening. To get to this restaurant on the 7th floor of Macy's, we had to pass the seasonal display, the sight of which sucker-punched me into a state not conductive to sociability. The first Christmas without my father is approaching and I am dreading it. I miss him terribly.

I focused on the rather lengthy menu but could feel the weight of someone's stare. Looking up, I met the gaze of a man seated at a table to my left. He resembled an elderly Spike Lee and was dressed quite dapper for what appeared to be a solitary dining excursion. He smiled warmly at me and didn't blink. I averted my gaze out of habit, as I am wont to do when someone challenges my aplomb.

"I'll have the soup of the day and a salad."

In between listening to the one woman dialogue at my table and watching a flock of pigeons terrorize the patrons seated on the patio, I continued sneaking a glance at the man at the next table. He didn't look away. Now nor did I. I smiled back at him. He nodded.

I observed as a waiter brought his order. A large bowl containing a hot fudge sundae. My soup and salad arrived shortly thereafter. We ate in synchronicity.

San Francisco Vignette no.1

Deborah Clague November 24, 2014

It was 11:15pm. I stood at the corner of Ellis and Cyril Magnin, slice of pizza in hand poised to satisfy a late-night craving. There was a lot of activity on the streets, something foreign to the sleepy northern village I call home. Sirens blared in the distance. A mentally ill man to my right shouted obscenities at no one in particular in between reciting random bible verses. Cars honked incessantly at a cab in front of me. The light was green, but it remained stationary. A shirtless man was trying to open the trunk. I assumed he was loading gear.

"What the fuck?! HEY!!!" the cab driver exclaimed upon looking into his rearview mirror. The shirtless man continued to be transfixed with opening the trunk.

A scuffle ensued as the taxi driver physically pried the shirtless man away from his vehicle and placed him next to me near the curb. I started to contemplate which self-defence technique would best work against this clearly high-as-fuck individual should shit go down. I didn't want to lose my pizza, but it was probably inevitable. I noted the shirtless man also wasn't wearing shoes. His gaze was as vacant as a zombie.

Without incident, he made his way back to the trunk of the cab. The driver again exited his vehicle and braced for round two. The mentally ill man to my right proclaimed that God is great.

I continued munching on my pizza. The walk signal lit up. My hotel was two blocks away.

The symphony of the streets played on.