I tried it and I don't like it

Offline Recess is a newsletter that invites you to pause from digital distractions and rediscover the joy of finding inspiration on your own terms, away from the algorithm.

A quick note: Thanks for all the sweet replies and shares after last week’s email where I shared more about the new focus, new name, and new format. I have lots of future emails already drafted — a sign that I have a lot to say about disconnecting in order to find inspiration. I want to start the newsletter with a quick summary of what you'll find below and some ideas for rediscovering the joy of finding inspiration. What you’ll find below:

• Three reasons why I like exploring used records

• Solitary vs social processes when creating art

• Music and its connection to a place or an experience

Looking to find some inspiration offline? Visit a local record shop, bookstore, or library. Take a day trip. Ask a friend for a book suggestion (and actually read it).

Rabbit Hole

finding inspiration offline and all the paths it takes me

I visited my sister for 24 hours knowing that I’d be able to sit in her presence (what’s better?), eat at one of our favorite Indianapolis restaurants, and explore some local shops. We’re all lovers of vinyl, so a record store was a must. We’re also all serious readers, so a bookstore, of course. Too much caffeine was woven throughout. As a Filipina, I was pleased to see ube continuing to trend. I always wonder if it would be as popular if it wasn’t so beautifully purple.

We descended upon Luna and knew, as usual, I’d get swept up in the design. Unlike a bookstore, browsing records comes without a thick spine. You flip through them like a rolodex you’ve never seen before. You see the top third before you see the bottom two thirds. You’re either delighted by something new or you recognize something iconic and memorable. 

I love three things about the process of exploring used records:

1. You’re browsing a collection of records that were deemed unnecessary by someone else. Someone parted with this record for some reason or other. It’s why I love shopping for vintage clothing and browsing second hand furniture. But you will change that trajectory and you will deem it important enough to keep it at your house, wear it, and display it proudly.

2. I’m fascinated by and desire to know more about the process around conceptualizing the album's artwork. This square piece of artwork is oftentimes the first impression (sometimes preceding the musician’s aura, brand, and sound). 

3. It’s so large. I see album artwork (checks Spotify) around .5-1.5 inches on my computer or phone. What a shame. Once, while I was willingly under the influence of something, I jotted down in my notes app, “It’s so depressing that we make art for it to just sit on Instagram, so small.” 

If I reflect on why I took photos of the albums above, I think it falls into a few buckets: I liked the artwork as a whole, I loved the typography, and I didn’t want to forget it. My music tastes default to: very pop, mostly dance, emotional, and woman-dominated. My current Spotify algorithm knows I want Charli XCX, Addison Rae, Lana Del Ray, Dua Lipa, Lorde, Rihanna, Remy Wolf, Robyn, Lady Gaga, the list goes on. 

The record store doesn’t know any of that. It stands in front of me and says, “Here’s what we’ve got. What are you willing to pick up? Buy? Listen to?” Sure, I can buy what I know, but what’s the fun in that? I pause for a reason, I pick it up for a reason, I flip it over for a reason, I take a photo for a reason. It’s fun to figure out what those reasons are. 

I listened to the music that made me pause. I didn’t like most of it. I remember writing in my diary as a tween, teen, and even young adult, “I can’t wait to know my own taste with confidence.” Not liking something is just as powerful as knowing what you do like.

Intersections

connected in some way, but have no obvious causal connection

I’ve read, twice in one week, about the idea that sculpture (especially at a large scale) is not solitary (whereas a lot of art is). 

Kara Walker has also talked about this concept while making A Subtlety. She explained, in the interview, that she had to trust the team to craft and build the piece. She didn’t even feel like she could truly contribute to the build until later in the process.

Based on what I know about life, I’m sure the process of making any kind of art can be both solitary or social. Is it ever black and white? What is the spectrum? What can we do to shift things one way or the other?

Happen Upon

things I discover offline, usually because of people with great taste

• This Jamie xx album from 2015 was one that I discovered while in LA that same year. I was staying at a client-turned-friend’s condo on the beach who was out of town. Adam and I were given the keys to her old BMW and we found ourselves cruising around in the glorious weather, marking the trip with this soundtrack. At the record store, I stumbled upon Jamie xx’s newest album and bought the CD. My paid off Subaru proudly boasts a CD player — no bluetooth or smart connect. The album is okay and I probably would feel differently if it was the soundtrack to a trip, an experience, or something away from home. But I felt proud that I let myself discover a new album by a familiar artist before the algorithm alerted me. 

• I purchased the book The Work Of Art: How Something Comes from Nothing at Golden Hour Books in Indianapolis. I’ve started reading it and am looking forward to sharing more about my takeaways in future emails. 

• I also bought the book The Overstory at the pleading request of Adam. He read it earlier this year and I know I will love it. The book’s description: The book is about nine Americans whose unique life experiences with trees bring them together to address the destruction of forests.

PS: If you have any analog, printed, and offline suggestions, don’t hesitate to hit “reply” and share!