Extraterrestrial Direction

Sometimes it's hard to discount the idea of fate, of something steering you in the right direction.  In my life, I find that things tend to just come into alignment when and where they are supposed to.  Case in point: Boy Wonder started preschool last week, so I now have three mornings a week to myself.  And while there are any number of things I probably should be doing, after the first week I decided I'd like to try to focus on writing as much as I can (otherwise, that fledgling novel will never get done).  So after getting two hooligans dropped off at school this morning, I scrounged some change for a coffee from the car's ashtray and decided where to go.  There's a coffee shop near the school--which happens to be on the way to the Y, where I plan to swim this morning, too--a shoe-in in terms of location, but something in me really wanted to go to a different shop, which is a bit more out of the way.  I decided to indulge myself and opted for the latter.

This is a good place to mention I'm infatuated with design.  I've always loved art and dabbled in it as a hobby, but as I've gotten older I've gotten particularly interested in architecture, interior design, and industrial/furniture design.  I pore over the pages of my Dwell and ReadyMade subscriptions when they come and fantasize about going to design school.  But having two small children to care for at home, and a part-time career established as a writer, always recalibrates me to focus on the projects that are already right in front of me.

When it comes to both architecture and industrial design, I'm ultimately wooed by sustainable and recycled solutions--objects and structures that are made from recycled or salvaged materials (including the reimagining/reuse of old structures when it comes to architecture), as well as things that are recyclable or reuseable after the fact.  My favorite furniture line, and the type I'd love to build myself, is Piet Hein Eek's pieces made entirely of recycled or found materials (see NYT Mag article about him here: The Imperfectionist).  But I'm also especially intrigued by modular design, the streamlining and flexibility of it all.

So back to my narrative: I walk into the coffee shop I was inexplicably drawn to this morning, and on my way to the counter I spy a man I know because he co-owns a coffee/breakfast joint in my own neighborhood.  I flash him a wave and smile and order my coffee, and he comes over.  I ask him jokingly if he's slumming or if he lives in this neighborhood, and he tells me his office is here.  I ask him what he's working on.  I know he's some sort of designer or artist in addition to being an entrepreneur, and remember having looked at his prefab housing website a couple of years earlier.  He says he's still working on prefab and he's doing something that no one else is doing yet--he's very excited about it.  I tell him how much I love design and my intrigue about prefab, and he asks if I want to see it.


I thought he meant a mock-up on his computer and followed him to his table, but he gathered his things and headed for the door.  I had a mug from the coffee shop and hadn't even doctored it with cream yet, but I really wanted to see where this would lead.  Turns out his comment that his office was here was literal--it was in the same building, and was more of a soaring hangar than an office.  He unlocked the door and there in front of me was a gleaming duo of aluminum cubes with giant glass doors and a walnut patio, nestled under the beams of a giant workshop, as if they had been plunked down there with minimal ceremony by a visiting spaceship (this impression may have been influenced by the fact that when I asked him how he learned to do this, he mentioned seeing UFOs as a kid in upstate NY and claimed to be guided by "extraterrestrial direction").

A gaggle of incredibly streamlined and colorful bikes lined the wall (apparently he designs and builds these, too).  He gave me a complete tour of the "house" and explained all the materials and process to me.  Not only were the materials all non-toxic, but the entire structure is recyclable, right down to the mind-boggling German-engineered plumbing drains that actually turn to water and evaporate when melted.  (Holy high notes!)  A one-unit washer/dryer (does the whole process in something smaller than a dishwasher), a countertop range that cooks by use of magnets rather than heat (holy friction!), and a whole host of other things I didn't know existed.  Seeing my obvious awe and enthusiasm he said I was welcome to help and get involved with the project.  He reiterated the oft-imparted wisdom: don't go to school to learn this, just start doing it.

And apparently I shall.  Right place at the right time?  Coincidence?  I have a hard time believing so.