Ever since signing up for my first email account sometime in the mid-90's, my password has been under constant scrutiny every time I've signed up for a new web-based service (now up around fifty or so). It's been twisted, warped, stretched, condensed, pinched, punched, cut, and finally massaged into a highly-refined form that is longer-than-six-but-less-than-sixteen upper and lowercase alpha-numerics and including its fair share of "special" characters. It's perfect. With years of practice through entering it in countless times a day, the act itself is a thing of beauty. Fingers, working in unison, fly over the keys to their temporary destination to tap out an audible but ambiguous pattern as the password field is completed in under a second.

I don't have to think about it anymore. In fact, the only time I've thought about my password outside it's evolution from "weak" to "strong" was recently when travels brought me to countries with different keyboard layouts. It was there, crippled by letters in different positions and symbols that are completely missing from their "rightful" place above the number seven or eight, that I was completely disarmed. Forced to assume a slow, one-fingered peck and a google search to copy-paste the required symbols had me think, if momentarily, about my idea of a seemingly universal password (read—mindfulness through failure). But the temporary handicap was removed with a return to my "home" computer and country. And again, I no longer thought about it.

However, with my increased use of small devices with access the internet (phone, iPod Touch, etc...), entering my refined and lengthy password is a cumbersome process that includes digging through sub-menus to find all the necessary keys. I've accepted it so far as my computer-to-mobile use ratio hasn't been even close. Now, as they grow closer to par (and find myself entering my password far more often on the scaled keyboard) I've begun to question whether there is a new way we can think about passwords when it comes to mobile devices. A way in which a password still offers the necessary security but not at added hassle for the user.

Dimitropoulos, a professor of architecture at Georgia Institute of Technology, talks about this shift from physically designing (in his case—actually drawing on paper) to digitally creating as a major movement in architecture education, and continues to discuss what effects this has on the curriculum and the graduating students at large.

While I can not comment on this theme regarding architecture, I can, however, view this within context of my design school experience. Throughout my three-years I have had a number of teachers that have insisted, and preached, to pay certain attention to an "analog" design process within their classes—classes which, admittedly, were much richer for their experience and exploration. Most, if not all, classes I've had teach concept and process over final result, and are solely focused on idea development rather than technical software workings. Still, I can personally observe an overall digital theme throughout the school, which is often more than evident in the workings and outcomes of our projects.

There could be some incertitude regarding what the school's mantra really is. They teach process while not always defining what that entails—essential in both first and second year, if not all the way through. Therefore, when it isn't expanded upon by the professor, the atmosphere and tone of the school can qualify what process should look like. It is here where it becomes an issue of space requirements and student numbers. The lack of space to foster a sustained working community at school pushes everyone to satellite studios, and aside from a few small groups, effectively disconnects students outside of class.

This is not to place blame but rather to enlighten, especially those that may just be starting in design education. Digital methods and software are only tools of the design process, not a substitute for it's entirety. Dimitropoulos further discusses digital process within architecture; he states disembodiment or a lack of human inscription is not only visible in the process and subsequent outcome, but also in the actual space and buildings if built.

It's easily assumed that this digital process applies only to the time spent creating ideas in software—yet, similarly, it is the email and blogs that sometimes find their daily routine all too closely positioned or integrated with our design process. Whatever the case, this final quote from Harris' is relevant for both student and professional alike:

Instead of fostering creativity and expanding our minds in ways made possible by our cognitive protheses, we are running the risk of being passive... [by] the secondary role our bodies play in digital design.

Works cited:
Dimitropoulos, Harris. "On the Lack of Human Inscription in Digital Design Processes". The Role of the Humanities in Design Creativity Conference. University of Lincoln, UK. November 2007.

What you won't see in these photos is everything that leads up to the actual event.

The interminable music, inspiring and piquing curiosity for a sample or mix, comes by means of headphones accompanying commutes to work or as a soundtrack for rides down shady streets to crosstown addresses and coffee. Or as a staple at home where new mixes fill the entire flat from the system in the living room—a living room with a layout well suited to either conversation or concentrated listening, both while accompanied by a variety of culture and design magazines aided by a selection of arc lamps—in duet with the buzz of a window fan, as the hardwood rooms are kept cool amidst the humidity and heat of the outside.

What you see at the show is that weeks' final result, but what you experience is everything that leads up to it—the process—which is not always available for view in creative ends. A further interesting aspect, that this often weekly "final result" offers, is it's dynamic nature. Rather than being a static culmination of previous work it is also a manifestation of what might be to come; part of an ongoing organic evolution of future intent of direction, excitement and experimentation growing forward in any number of directions.

Is there a way this unique dynamic aspect can further be applied to design or architecture initiatives (especially regarding cradle to cradle ideals)?

Jamall Knight during a set at The Academy in Winnipeg, MB

edit: He also maintains a collection of new mixes, thoughts, and photographs on his blog. Check it out: http://leighalfred.blogspot.com/