An Office

The tenor of my life at the moment is work. Why and where and whom and how much money, and will I be able to take the fertile ground of so many ideas and parley that into rent, a new winter sweater, an Inkling, a trip to see our friends in Dallas?

I mentioned when I wrote about moving in that I have a new job, but what I should have said is that I am now freelancing full time; I rearranged my life because I was offered a long-term freelance writing contract with “a media design firm for museums and public spaces.” Essentially, I spend 3-4 days a week writing content for interactive apps for art museums. (If ever there were a perfect job description for me, this is it. I’m a writer for interactive apps and experiences at art museums. I love saying it.)

My rearranged life worked out so that I am still at Landmark Ventures, where they were gracious enough to keep me on part time as well. I have slowly stepped back as they continue to create great events, and it has been a thrill to see that team and idea keep growing. The promise of spare time was threaded through this job change too, and though the time has yet to materialize, new work arrives. I have been consulting with startups in Brooklyn about branding, product, identity and corporate culture; 3 so far, and it seems more will come. I have joined the website OurGoods, where I hope to barter marketing consulting in exchange for the space to launch a magazine.

In my head I have an office. It has big chairs, soft couches, high ceilings, work benches with built-in lightboxes and tilting surfaces and tiled monitors. More and more I like the idea of tiling monitors around one another, growing my visible digital workspace by expanding out as well as down. The office is not closed doors but not quite open plan; nooks, perhaps, or a bookshelf perpendicular to the wall where a dividing line could be. I like the idea of the person(s) on the other side of that bookshelf, how we might push volumes aside to see one another or flip titles around for others to see when we’re finished reading them. I used to think I wanted a home by myself on a seashore with a fireplace and a space for writing, but no more; I have come to love the idea of a collaborative professional life.

Stacks of magazines, source books, a french press, a bag of kettle corn. A wall of windows. A wall of bookshelves. A wall of pinboards overflowing with ideas, quotes, ephemera torn from articles and picked up in shops and museums. A wall of scrap paper, or blackboards, or whiteboard paint, where we have written lists. “We’re thinking about.” (Inherent nuances of genuine branding. The flow of culture.) “We believe in.” (Local businesses. Inconvenient principles.) “We’re working on.” (The technical requirements of online event documentation. Restructuring a startup team to address operational and planning gaps.) What would we be, this office? Culture consultants. Brand experts. Experience developers. Passionate people full of ideas.

I went from certainty in a full time job to freelancing during a terrible economy, and while I’m still getting tremors every now and then at the potential impracticality of that decision, I’m glad it’s done.