As always, I wanted to see, hear and share new stuff.

As well as commissioning new online projects (like Audio Ad Remix), commissioned gigs (like London Philharmonic’s Video Game Heroes, or Charlie Dark’s Black Orpheus) and exclusive daytime presentations (the one that springs to mind is Fallon’s fantastic show and tell with Chemical Brother Adam Smith), I wanted to create new artistic partnerships which could live for years.

My favourite of these was VSM hooking up Bigballs Films and Kutiman.

Kutiman was one of the first artists that I wanted to present at Vision Sound Music. The nome de guerre of Tel Aviv musician Ophir Kutiel, Kutiman is a musical pioneer whose home turf is YouTube, where he uses found footage to create new music. Here’s Kuti recreating Led Zeppelin’s Black Dog, using clips of amateur cover versions of the song.

I really wanted to work with Bigballs Films too. Their creative director, Richard Welsh, who’s a mentor at the School of Communication Arts, where I head up the ideapreneur pathway, is a man of massive creativity, vision and integrity. James Kirkham from Holler kept trying to find a way of getting us two together. He said we’d get on. And we did.

Richard was really excited by the link VSM had with Kuti. Richard wanted to give one of Bigballs’ finest up-coming directors, Pedro De La Fuente the opportunity to create new work and forge a new relationship. Alongside Bigballs DOP Matty Lambert, they planned, plotted and devised in collaboration with Kutiman, to go to Israel and create a film, with the working motif of “Freedom Is” (with a smart Twitter hashtag campaign and Tumblr to spread the word and share the idea).

The video headlining this post is the brilliant first extract of the film that they created.

Creating these kind of long-term opportunities is a part of the work that I do that gives me the most pleasure. I’m really looking forward to seeing the relationship develop and new work unfold.

Hook up with Bigballs’ on Facebook here
http://facebook.com/bigballsfilms

Follow them on Twitter here
http://twitter.com/bigballs_films

To follow Kutiman’s work, his YouTube Channel is a great start
http://www.youtube.com/user/kutiman

Discipline architecture is anti-social in its most basic sense – it’s not only misanthropic, its design that kills off chance meeting and serendipity. At its worst discipline architecture can harm cities as effectively as any anti-social behaviour that its meant to discourage.

Even if the intention isn’t in question, the brutal aesthetic of much discipline architecture is unnecessary. With imagination an intended outcome can be accomplished with wit and style. My favourite examples in London are Emirates Stadium’s anti car-bomb barriers.

Arsenal’s cannons can be sat on, and the outsize lettering invites photographs and interaction. They accomplish their utilitarian task (and are currently the strongest aspect of Arsenal’s defence – boom boom!) whilst creating an occasion and sense of place.

But elegant discipline is discipline nonetheless. No, far more friendly is design that actually invites play, interaction and reinvention. Let’s call it “indiscipline architecture”. Done well, it brings cities to life.

This approach was key for the Futurecity commission Skystation. Futurecity worked with artist Peter Newman to create a seat which would be naturally social, and give users an occasion to interact in unexpected ways, and even see their cityscape from new, surprising perspectives.

Travelling on sabbatical, I was lucky enough to see a great example of indiscipline architecture here in Auckland this week. The Danish artist Jeppe Hein (he of the Southbank Centre’s Appearing Rooms) specialises in creating public art work that invites play. His newest commission, Long Modified Bench Auckland is on a roof space at the brilliant Auckland Art Gallery. The video headlining this post is my daughter’s first reaction to it.

There’s something in the instinct of a circus performer who knows that (other than the macabre threat of the trapeze artist or lion-tamer coming a cropper) what audiences really want to see is extraordinary feats enacted with humdrum objects. Jugglers with kitchen knives and frying pans. Balancing acts with chairs, tables and lampshades. There seems to be something universally exciting in seeing familiar objects reinvented in surprising, delightful ways.

For this reason, I think that the reimagining of street furniture and everyday features of our urban landscape is often more compelling than stand-alone sculpture. Stand alone public sculpture can be wonderful (like Jim Hodges’ Creative Time commission Look & See, or James Hopkins’ recent Futurecity commission Angled Ball), but too often, with little connection to the environment if finds itself in, it can be what US artist and architect James Wines has dubbed “the turd on the plaza” (or a phrase I like even more – “plop art”).

So more seating that invites climbing; tuned, musical railings; playful, tactile building facades, smart way-finding, naming and signage.

All these create stuff that lets you play with and play in your built environment. It might feel a little more indisciplined, but as part of a well designed development, invitations to play create the kind of places that people want to live in, work in and visit.

So, why take a sabbatical?
When I told anyone that I was taking an 8 month break from work, people didn’t tend to question my motives. More often they looked at me and said “lucky thing” (as if I’d won the break on the lottery), then went on to give me reasons why they couldn’t take such a break themselves.

Aside from monetary considerations, whilst it is true that some people have ties that bind them to work, extended family and place that make taking a break (either with travel or without) difficult, the biggest leap that needs to be made is one of permission.

My first motivation was to give myself permission to take an extended break, then actually take it. Sounds simple, but it’s harder than you think to step off the work conveyor belt. If it was easier, more people would do it.

If I’m my own boss, why does my boss treat me like dirt?
When you work for yourself, if you don’t lay down the law, the person you work for can be a terrible slave driver. They’ll get you to work weekends, cancel breaks, take work with you on holiday and even interrupt your sleep at the dead of night with stuff that really can wait.

I figured an extended break was the best way of sticking it to the man (and showing him who’s in charge!)

Living Covey’s 7th Habit
In Stephen Covey’s 7 Habits of highly effective people (my inner cynical Londoner is pained to admit to being influenced by a “self-help” book, but it really is a cracker) his seventh habit is “Sharpen the Saw”. Take time out to attend to mind, body and spirit. Spend time watching my daughter growing up from day to day. Get to know my wife again. Learn new and un-work-related skills (my swimming’s coming on a treat – thanks for asking!) Refuel and recharge.

Since being away I’ve found that this can’t be done in short order. It takes time. It took around 3 months to really unwind, but I feel that now I’m there and can see that when I return to London I’ll be a lot more effective (not just at work, but hopefully throughout my life) because I won’t be working with blunted, neglected equipment anymore.

I saw the light: there is no light to see!
It was lucky that more people didn’t question my motivations for coming away before I left last October. My motivations were unfocussed at best. It just felt like the time was right and that it was something that I needed to do. Anyway, I hoped I’d find out why I took a break on the break itself – when, Like John Belushi seeing the light in the church of James Brown, I saw the light and my break’s deeper, inner purpose.

For the first couple of months away I kept waking up in the morning thinking “maybe today”. “Maybe today I’ll have my sabbatical epiphany, when it all clicks into place and I LEARN THE BIG LESSON of why I’m here. Only one day I woke up and realised – I’m not going to wake up and learn the big lesson. It’s taken 24 years of my working life to take this break. Far more likely is that it’ll take months, maybe years to absorb, assimilate and deploy what I’ve learned. If there is a light to find, it’ll be illuminated on a slow dimmer. After all, it took me over 10 years to get to grips with Jan Fabre’s Power of Theatrical Madness, and that was only 4 hours long.

So here’s to the next, and last, four months, that will see the three of us leave New Zealand (after some exciting stuff, including going to Womad and speaking at the Sounds Aotearoa music conference – about as close to work as I’m going to get) and head via Sydney to Bali, Thailand and South India before heading home. I’m looking forward to all of it. And looking forward to heading back to London to resume my work life. Refreshed.

To be honest, the ones that have made the greatest impression have all been since I came away on sabbatical, particularly:

• My indecision is final – The riveting story of Goldcrest Films is a tale of passion, talent, folly, project management and cash-flow. Surprisingly, the drama’s created by the last two in this list.
• Malcolm X – A life of Reinvention, Manning Marable – This was Marable’s life’s work (he died just three days before the book was published). It’s a fascinating and exhaustive reappraisal of Malcolm X’s life and legacy. Although Marable is clearly an admirer, he wants to get beneath the myth. He uses as his foil Alex Haley’s co-written autobiography, exploring, probing and trying to fill gaps in its account and any retrospective appropriation or projection due to the break-neck pace of Malcolm’s political evolution in the few years before his early death. I’m sure there are inaccuracies in Marable’s book too, but it’s not only an amazing scholarly work, it’s a compelling account of one of the most fascinating and important figures in 20th century human rights activism.
• Le Freak – Nile Rodgers. I thought I came from a messed up family, but Nile Rodgers takes the cake. A brilliant, often hilarious tale of rags to riches, riches to debauchery, debauchery to near death and back. All this from the man responsible not only for the amazing work of Chic, but also Diana Ross’s diana, Madonna’s Like a Virgin and David Bowie’s Let’s Dance.
• Backroom Boys - Francis Spufford. This was the one book that I re-read (I felt I rushed it first time round). It’s a rip-roaring account of British scientific and engineering boffinery since the first world war (Concorde, the GSM phone network, early video games et al.). If you’re used to reading about or working in or around the arts, and needed to confirm that non-artistic creativity is every bit as exciting and life-changing, I’d recommend this book.

Apologies to Horace Truebridge who recommended and raved about it, but once again, the only one I didn’t finish was the solitary novel in the list, The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet. This novel-reading blind-spot is definitely a fault of mine. 

• Chief Cultural Officer, Grant McCracken
• The Happiness Advantage, Shawn Anchor
• Your Brain At Work, David Rock
• What you need to know about Project Management, Fergus O’Connell
• The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, Stephen Covey
• Meditation for Beginners, Jack Kornfield
• The Creative Habit: Learn It and Use It for Life, Twyla Tharp
• A Pattern Language: Towns, Buildings, Construction (Center for Environmental Structure Series), Christopher Alexander
• Switch: How to change things when change is hard, Chip Heath, Dan Heath
• The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet, David Mitchell
• Fun Inc.: Why games are the 21st Century’s most serious business, Tom Chatfield
• Reality is Broken: Why Games Make Us Better and How They Can Change the World, Jane McGonigal
• Economics and Culture, David Throsby
• The New Business Road Test: What Entrepreneurs and Executives Should Do Before Writing a Business Plan, John Mullins
• Future Shock, Alvin Toffler
• Cognitive Surplus: Creativity and Generosity in a Connected Age, Clay Shirky
• My indecision is final, Jake Eberts and Terry Ilott
• Backroom Boys, Francis Spufford
• The Fry Chronicles, Stephen Fry
• Malcolm X – A life of Reinvention, Manning Marable
• Sweet As… Garth Cartwright
• Le Freak, Nile Rodgers

I don’t mean I can’t swim, I can. Like many kids of the 70s growing up in Haringey, I learned and loved to swim in the numerous pools the borough used to have, helped along with the 50 free passes won for swimming 50 metres. My favourite was Durnsford Road Lido, with the spectacular, vertiginous high diving boards (it’s now Sunshine Garden Centre – near Bounds Green).

But, I was taught that very British breaststroke of David Wilkie, Adrian Moorhouse and Duncan Goodhew, much to the chagrin of my Australian father who like Mike from the public information film “swims like a fish” in that languorous, easy Aussie freestyle.

No – when I came down under, I wanted to learn to swim properly. Instinctively, I thought that relearning something that I thought I could do well might offer me life lessons. Without dwelling on this too heavily, this kind of “allegorical experience” is part of what my sabbatical are all about.

So I’ve kept my promise and enrolled for a course of one-to-one lessons taught by champion triathlete and expert swimming instructor Haydn Woolley and started today. This is Haydn in action

I know. Even the most confirmed heterosexual would have to admit that’s a pretty gorgeous sight. I, naturally, am rather less gorgeous, so despite Haydn videoing me throughout my first lesson and emailing me the footage for reference, I’ll be keeping the evidence of my “before” technique to myself (but who knows, if the “after” is shockingly impressive, it may find its way to my blog. No? Oh, okay then. I’ll keep that to myself too).

Haydn’s Tests

Haydn’s first test in the pool was just to watch me swim front crawl. He wanted to find out what idea I had in my head about what I think front crawl should look like.

Suffice it so say from my thrashing, windmilling arms, my mental picture of freestyle is Johnny Weissmuller as Tarzan swimming to save Jane – even down to the sped-up camera work. Apparently, I do everything too fast. The most important thing Haydn told me is to pause at the front of each stroke.

Pretty much like everything in life – I need to slow down to make quicker progress.

The next thing we looked at was my kick. I’ve never really known what to do when kicking my legs in front crawl, so (with Weissmuller’s Tarzan as my guide) I vaguely move them up and down whenever I remember. After Haydn’s next test, I found out how effective this method’s been.

Haydn told me that an average person would be able to kick the 25m pool length and back in around 1 minute 20 seconds. He expected with the flexibility in my ankles (which he marked 6 out of 10) and my running experience that I’d be able to do it in around 1 minute 5 seconds. With 4 marathons under my belt and countless half marathons, I shared his confidence. My time? 1 minute 45 seconds (and I conked out around 10m from the finish).

My leg strength and ankle flexibility, when not directed properly counted for nothing. Guessing what a kick should be was probably worse than no attempt at all.

Again, I saw lessons there (and ones that I’ve always known). I need to break things down to their constituent parts and ask “what exactly is going on here”. But it’s not enough then for me to make up my own solution – out there are experts who know exactly the right way to do anything (from my stepdad laying bricks, to Haydn’s freestyle kick). A moment sharing an expert view can save a lifetime’s ill-directed guesswork.

The last part of the first session was all about breathing. In contrast to what I found out when trying to kick, my main takeaway from this was not to think too much about it. As Haydn put it: ”Don’t think about breathing – it’s one of the things people think far too much about”

Amen to that. If there’s one thing that unites all the people I love, it’s their near constant refrain that I think too much about everything.

So perhaps this was the most important learning of all – instead of looking for allegory and life lessons, maybe what I need to is to relax, breathe easy, and just enjoy a swim…

1. You can leave your bike unlocked anywhere in Auckland. It won’t get pinched
I had a bike in New York City. I had two massive padlocks and chains for it. It went in 2 weeks. This seems to go for cars too.

2. People are honest to a fault
I called the NZ equivalent of Ticketmaster to enquire about the John Waters event. The guy at the other end told me “Well, you can book the ticket from me, but we’ll charge you 11 bucks booking fee. You’d be better picking up the ticket from the venue”

3. If they haven’t got it. They haven’t got it
If you look for something and you can’t find it in the shops, it’s not that you’re looking in the wrong shop, it’s far more likely that they haven’t got it in the country.

4. There’s a unsophistication which is naive but endearing
We got a running buggy that’s made in NZ (the Pedigree Sport Buggy). I’d guess it’s made by a family firm. It got a sticker with “Copyright (c)” on one of the side struts. What’s copyrighted? The squeak of the wheels?

5. Drivers are used to lots of space
Apart from the quirk of priority when turning right (the person crossing your path has right of way) people are pretty lousy drivers. It could be that they are inconsiderate or thoughtless, but more likely, they’re just used to a lot of space. The “zipper” technique that drivers adopt in London when letting people merge into lane (I’ll let one in, then it’s me) doesn’t exist here. People get freaked out when you do a three point turn or reverse park into a narrow space.

6. Recycling’s not sorted
In a place with an image as green as any country, Auckland’s doorstep recycling is surprisingly rudimentary. No plastic bags, tetrapaks or compostables. When Haringey Council’s doing something better than you, you know there’s something up.

8. Everyone knows everyone
Like getting on a plane to Reykjavik, when the air stewardess says “Welcome onboard, Mrs Blahblahsdottir – how are the kids”, here the numbers are so small as to make it a large village. Unemployment went up this week to 6.4%. It was the first item on the national news. It went up by 3,000 people.

9. Teenagers aren’t scary
Pushing A-B in her running buggy past a knot of 10 teenage boys, all around 15 or 16 years of age, they quickly got out of the way, and shouted forward to their mates to do the same. As I passed, one hooded youth (for this look is truly universal) called after me, “cute kid!”)

10. People here really love it
Aucklanders, like Capetonians or Sydneysiders love the place. In their own unassuming kiwi way, they don’t know why anyone would want to live anywhere else.

As one of the document’s anchors, I keep returning to a not less than prophetic interview with the late Steve Jobs, from Rolling Stone 2003 (just before the launch of iTunes). The reason I did this?

“Despite interviewing over 60 people from across the music industry, I have quoted Jobs’ because I believe his independence, allied to his subsequent success since the birth of iTunes, will be convincing where the objectivity of quoted music insiders may be doubted.”