My heart breaks for the people and wildlife affected by the Australian fires. We only have one planet and it is clear we need to change our ways to ensure its beauty and wonder thrive for millennia to come.
We love you, Australia.
SoGood
I’m excited to judge the RGD 2020 SoGood Awards, which celebrates the power of design to do good! Submissions are any communications design projects that help to incite positive action in our communities and make meaningful changes in how we live our lives.
Applicants should submit their work by February 14, 2020 to be considered. Click here for more information.
The Decade: Loss
The last decade of my life was punctuated with loss. In the span of four years, I lost both of my maternal grandparents, a pet that I cherished, and - the hardest, deepest - my beloved father who passed away months after being unexpectedly diagnosed with terminal cancer. Processing the finality of these events has not been easy and has left me with an emptiness that occasionally wanes but is always present. I try to work with it. I’ve tried to appease it by feeding it stimulation and adventure. I’ve tried to kill it with carbs and boys. I now just treat it as a part of me. Less a burden and more a facet of experience that can influence and direct my path forward towards the life I want to live.
You may never know the last time you get to spend with someone.
Cherish every moment.
Be generous with love.
This is the most important wisdom I gained over the past decade.
The Decade: The Climb
The most physically demanding thing I achieved over the past decade was climbing an actual mountain. At 3,776 metres, it wasn’t anywhere near the scale of, say, Everest (which is 8,848 metres) but for someone who’d rather eat doughnuts than hit the gym, this accomplishment was monumental. I did it for a very special reason - a demonstration of my deep love for my father and a promise to him on how I would fill my days with adventure in remembrance of his spirit.
I’m a person of my word.
To read more about climbing Mount Fuji, click here, here, here, here and here (or search the Japan tag for a travelogue on my other experiences in the land of the rising sun).
I made it! - the summit of Mount Fuji (©Deborah Clague, 2015).
Climbing Mount Fuji (©Deborah Clague, 2015).
Climbing Mount Fuji (©Deborah Clague, 2015).
The terrain on the path heading up was quite rocky and not that easy to traverse at 3:00am on limited sleep (©Deborah Clague, 2015).
The path returning to the bottom was different terrain but equally as hard as reaching the summit. The volcanic ash made it slippery and hard to establish grip (©Deborah Clague, 2015).
The Decade: The Amateur Chef
Growing up, my relationship with food was much different than it is today. Food’s primary purpose was fuel, a means to garner the energy that youth required. It was also pretty routine and safe. My homemaker mom had a few specialties that she seemed to rotate on a weekly basis. This included well-cooked pork chops with a pinch of black pepper, Prego-drenched spaghetti and, my favourite, chicken fingers and fries (being from Winnipeg, I’ve also eaten my weight in pirogies several times over). Food was not an indulgence in my childhood home. Meals were not made from scratch but rather selected for convenience. Up until a few years ago, this was my outlook as well.
The kitchen in my home is bigger than I’d ever had before. The large island just beckons to be put to use, although for a long time it was neglected to the role of storage space for paperwork and other random items. I would occasionally attempt baking something easy but nothing of intricacy. My desire to truly become a gastronomy student was instilled by my partner. One of our first dates was dinner at an Indian restaurant. He was excited to introduce me to biriyani, a rice dish heavy with spices and mixed with assorted meats. My experience with Indian food was minimal up until that point and I was admittedly concerned about the effect it would have on my limited-palate stomach. I approached it slowly, taking small spoonfuls … until I couldn’t stop. The flavour was so rich. It opened my eyes to a whole new world. Biriyani has also become my favourite food. I like it more than pizza - which is really testament to how delicious it is.
Now I take a great pleasure in not only eating but the entire process of cooking from researching new recipes to learning what umami is. When I travel, I am most excited about leisurely exploring the grocery stores and markets for spices and other ingredients not readily available at home. My creative flair is now being applied to cuisine as both hobby and art form. My waistline may be expanding but my overall health and enjoyment in life has never been better.
Cooking at an apartment in Paris (©2019, Deborah Clague).
Bison kebab with homemade tzatziki (©Deborah Clague, 2017).
Tandoori chicken with biriyani (©2019, Deborah Clague).
Lemon-garlic-rosemary chicken with black rice and vegetables (©2019, Deborah Clague).
Book Recommendations
Inside Out
Written by Demi Moore
Demi Moore was one of the most famous actresses of my adolescence. Her looks set a standard for beauty. Her roles aimed to challenge convention and what it means to be a woman, in effect influencing the (pop) culture in which my own ideas and perceptions about life were forming. This book gives interesting insight into what it looked like on the other side, of a life of struggle and heartbreak with those closest to her (including her mother and second husband) breaking her trust and confidence. I also found it interesting as autobiographies with a story like this—of rising to the top without connections, power or wealth—may be a thing of the past in increasingly nepotistic Hollywood.
Favourite line: “My story is mine alone; I’m the only one who was there for all of it, and I decided to claim the power to tell it on my own terms.”
Face It
Written by Debbie Harry
I always felt cool by-proxy that Deborah (Debbie) Harry and I shared a first name. After all, the lead singer of punk band Blondie is one of THE coolest people of all time. Her voice, her image, are iconic and gave me many memories of my own in life as her music provided soundtrack to it. This beautifully designed autobiography tells her story in a relatable, conversational (but sometimes detached) tone that includes both the darkness and light of achieving success in the music industry. One disillusionment I was left with though surrounded the passages dealing with sexual assault and objectification (when, during a meeting, a record exec just stares at her breasts, Debbie relates that it is because she is too powerful to look in the eye rather than calling out the behaviour for what it was). It is especially odd relating these experiences but then, near the end of the book, stating that she never felt she had hardship just because she was a woman. Deborah also uses her book as a gallery to display numerous pieces of fan art she’s collected over the decades.
Favourite line: “Like most girls of my generation, I’d been programmed since childhood to look for a strong man to carry me off and look after me. I bought into those fantasies as a kid at least to some degree, but by the time I was in my mid twenties I was done with that. I was wanting to have control, and as Dad always said, I was too damn independent for my own good. I looked for adventure and new experiences instead of settling down.”
Catch and Kill
Written by Ronan Farrow
Ronan Farrow was one of the pivotal journalists who broke the #MeToo story in 2017. This book documents the first rumblings that a well-known Hollywood producer had a long history of sexually assaulting his clientele (and even built his business and staff to act as accomplices) and then veers into the scary world of private surveillance and the lengths the rich and powerful will go to in order to maintain a social structure that most benefits them. If you ever question why women don’t come forward, this book will tell you all you need to know.
Favourite line: “I remembered us, as we positioned these pewter kings and dragons, and a grown-up voice sounded, calling her away.”
Brave
Written by Rose McGowan
After reading ‘Catch and Kill’, I picked up Rose McGowan’s autobiography for another angle of the story. Rose was one of the instigators of the #MeToo movement, bravely sharing her story of being raped by studio head Harvey Weinstein and in the aftermath becoming a feminist icon. This book is an intense, angry read and she holds nothing back when sharing stories of everyone from Marilyn Manson to Adam Sandler. This book is so lined with fury, actually, that I can’t see Rose working in the industry ever again. Which ultimately may be what she wants. I agree with a lot of the points she makes and feel her voice is best served with her own thoughts and words rather than a script.
Favourite line: “The adults I met were dedicated in their pursuit of beige, not all, but most.”
Into Thin Air
Written by Jon Krakauer
Every so often I come across a book that so captivates my imagination I become completely consumed, seeking to learn and experience everything I can about the subject matter in all forms. The compelling ‘Into Thin Air’ has drawn me further into the world of high altitude mountaineering, sharing the gripping, ultimately tragic, story of the 1996 Mount Everest disaster in which eleven people lost their lives. As this past climbing season ended with eleven more deaths, it seems that nothing was learned and the mountain is still open for commodification. I cannot praise ‘Into Thin Air’ enough; it is one of the greatest books I’ve ever read in my life.
Favourite line: “Above 8,000 metres is not a place where people can afford morality.”
The Decade: Neighbours
This past decade, I became a property owner. After much research, budgeting and financial forecasting, I found an affordable place that was a blank canvas for the life I wanted to breathe into it. Besides equity, that was the most appealing aspect of home ownership; my home is an extension of the design work I do and its transformation from being a floor-to-ceiling throwback of the mid-80s dusty rose trend to “neo-gothic New York” (think noir with exposed brick) is truly something I am proud of.
I’d be lying though if I said I didn’t use to constantly monitor housing prices to see if I was taking a hit (or making a gain). I had no intention of actually selling … but instead sought the comfort that I hadn’t made the biggest financial mistake of my life. A mortgage is a huge burden to carry and at the end of the day, we all want to get ahead. Over time I realized though that money and the security it affords was only a part of what I needed in life.
The day I moved in, my new neighbour, an elderly woman who strongly resembles the Queen Mum, opened her door to peek out at the commotion in the hallway. With a smile and an impromptu hug, I was touched by how welcoming and kind she was. Her eyes were the bluest blue I’d ever seen and I felt a sense of warmth in her presence. In addition, she took an immediate attachment to my dog, Monty, which was a blessing as even though I reside in a pet-friendly building, there are a lot of people who don’t like pets (and will openly tell you so). Over the years, my neighbour and I have become incredibly close to the point where I consider her my adoptive grandmother. She is my family, if not by blood then by love.
I’ve also made other deep connections, including a close friend that I’ve taken on trips from Chicago to Dubai. And then there’s the person who moved in with me, someone who appreciates my eclectic taste in art and sought to make it even more unique - I now have an indoor garden with its own custom-crafted waterfall! This is priceless to me.
The friendships I’ve made and the experiences I’ve shared with my neighbours have so greatly enriched my life that no amount of money lost in a constantly fluctuating market could ever detract from what I’ve gained. These memories from 2010-2020 have firmly established my house as home.
My indoor garden, a work in progress (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
The Decade: A New Best Friend
There’s excitement when moving to a city you’ve never visited before. It could be an opportune time to reinvent yourself. To form new hobbies and embark on relationships that are misguided but ultimately shamelessly fun. If I’m being honest though, I settled rather quickly into my comfortable ways again. I’m an introverted homebody and those just aren’t traits conducive to being the life of the party. And no one talks about it much, but forming adult bonds and friendships is a rather difficult thing to do. As you get older, most people have their social groups established. Life can get especially lonely when starting over from scratch.
Within two weeks of my move, I made a new best friend though. A little guy that has brought me such happiness and unconditional love that I can literally feel my heart swell with emotion when I think of him. The “guy” I’m talking about is my wee Monty, a mixed breed with the sweetest personality. He is twenty pounds of both teddy bear and sentry. Adopting a dog forced me to explore my new city and focus on something other than my own isolated milieu. One of my most cherished memories were the first three nights he spent adapting to life in my apartment.
Night one: I placed Monty in his kennel in the living room in order to get him accustomed to my absence. All night he cried. I broke resolve rather quickly and brought him into my bedroom.
Night two: I placed Monty’s pet bed on the floor next to my own with the hopes that he would easily drift into slumber knowing I was in the same room as him. This didn’t work either as he kept attempting to jump up onto my bed. He didn’t cry—and he didn’t bark— but the sound of this struggle broke my resolve.
Night three: Monty had established his place of sleeping on the bed with me, eventually taking over the dead-centre of the mattress so that I could barely move. I didn’t mind at all. Like I said, he’s my teddy bear. For all that his presence has enriched my life, he can live like a king.
The first glimpse I ever saw of Monty. This was the photo used in his adoption listing (2010).
The Decade: A New Home
As the decade nears its end, I wanted to vignette some of the moments that most touched my life:
It was February of 2010 and we were driving down the Trans-Canada Highway with as much of my stuff as could fit in the back of a Nissan. My father was behind the wheel, navigating the sheen of black ice while attempting to give me a pep talk that would last nearly the entire duration of my one-way trip. For I was leaving my hometown, my family and friends, and everything I knew up until that point to start a new life in a city I had never even visited before.
From 2004 to 2009, I worked from home operating a small creative consultancy business that partnered with marketing firms on a variety of projects big and small. In October of that final year, a downturn in the economy resulted in the loss of two of my biggest clients. Fraught with anxiety over my future in the field—not to mention the more tangible, immediate stress of how I would pay my bills—I made the decision to re-enter the job market. As I am wont to do, I also made the decision to make other sweeping changes in my life including applying for positions in different cities. The start of a new decade felt like a perfect opportunity to also start a new chapter in my life. And so it was written.
In January of 2010, I boarded a flight for an interview.
Within a few weeks, I got the job.
It happened incredibly quickly and while my initial ambitions achieved exactly what I had hoped, the palpable sense of loss I felt as the light pollution of Winnipeg faded further from view overwhelmed me. I cried so much we had to stop and stay overnight at The Twilight Motel in Moosomin, delaying arrival in my new home by a day. While some may have perceived it as cold, my father’s rational, direct way of supporting me helped open my eyes to the possibilities that laid ahead. At that time, he never openly cried. Even though I knew he would miss me (and worry about me), he only focused on what was best for my personal growth.
The past, predictable and safe, could always be resurrected if I made the choice. My childhood bedroom was available, even if the stuffed animals that once shared it with me no longer existed. I would just have to call.
The future though, open and exciting with so much potential, was what he encouraged.
Reflecting on the past decade and all the memories I’ve cultivated, I made the right choice.
Voodoo
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).
A rainy day excursion to the Tillamook Cheese Factory, Tillamook, 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).
Voodoo Doughnut, Portland, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
Voodoo Doughnut, Portland, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).
Voodoo Doughnut, Portland, Oregon (©Deborah Clague, 2019).