Enough. There is no crisis. And, thank you, @commarts. There, has, however, been so much relentless noise around AI and its threat and dangers and horrors that I wanted to find some positive signal we might all tune into. Not just more “what will go wrong!!!!” but a little more “okay - but what might go right?”

“You have to kill. Every time.” huffpost.com/entry/tina-fey-…

Why are grotesque, giant black white houses taking over American neighborhoods? They’re huge. Unsightly. Expensive. They’re everywhere. One went up my sister’s lovely neighborhood, stinking up her entire block. Here are some answers. slate.com/business/2025/03/h…

What can you learn from Jim Henson? More than you can possibly imagine. Actor/puppeteer Paul Libert does a working session with SAG-AFTRA performers at the Meryl Streep Center for Performing Artists in Los Angeles on Friday, October 25, 2024. If you have an imagination, it will amaze you. If you don't, I imagine there is always a Monster Truck Rally...somewhere. youtube.com/watch?v=PUpkw1Qr…

It started two years ago. I had to pull back. Less of the normal. Not so much “day-to-day." I needed more time with my parents. There comes a point when you realize: they’re getting ready to leave. And your job is to be there. A friend of mine, a poet, sent me a note. “Brian - There is nothing more poignant than helping the one who brought you into this world to leave accompanied by the same love with which she brought you here.” True. But no one tells you how long the end takes. Or that it happens in fragments. So, for two years I watched my parents disappear. One month they were sharp and full and certain and entirely themselves. The next, something small went missing. A detail. A habit. A look. And then another. Toward the end, I stopped trying to hold the outlines of who they had been, and just chose to meet someone new every week, instead. I stayed. In Florida. In Massachusetts. With my brother and sisters. We adjusted their pillows. Made dinners. Took rides. We all moved in at different points with my mother so she was not alone. We sat beside them and listened to stories we already knew. Some days I was useful. Some days I was not. Thomas Collins' dream car was the Rolls Royce Silver Cloud. Miraculously, we found someone who owned one nearby. So we spent a day in September visiting parks, beaches in Florida he loved. He left us the following week. Mary Collins was sitting on her porch at her house she loved on Cape Cod in October. Her blue Biden flag was up. She left us by morning, looking at her wildflowers. Grief doesn’t arrive like a thunderbolt. It rolls in like a rain shower. Barely noticeable at first, then suddenly everything is damp and heavy and impossible. I returned emails. I accepted condolences. I smiled at the right times. My colleagues at COLLINS—whether they knew it or not—kept me upright. They didn’t push. They just stayed close while I stopped pretending I had energy for anything other than showing up when necessary and remembering to eat something that wasn't an Oreo. And then, last week, I noticed the light on my kitchen floor. That was it. But I stopped. It didn't really matter. But I saw it. And I hadn’t really seen anything like that in a while. And then other things started happening. I heard a garbage truck on 62nd Street at 4:45 AM and didn’t curse it. I was given an orchid and didn’t instantly imagine it dying under my supervision. Not signs of enlightenment. No Eat, Pray...Anything. Just glimpses of curiosity, returning. Robert Frost once said: “The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.”  That’s poetry for: I had no clue what I was in for. None. Yet, against all odds, the world seems to be letting me back in. Not all at once. Mostly. it's the edges. That’s all I have right now. It is not “closure.” It is not “epiphany” Call it Easter. Call it spring. Call it whatever you like. I'm still here. You are, too. And something—quietly, gratefully, undramatically—is beginning.

Mastery isn't gained from intellect. Mastery isn't gained from talent or ambition. Mastery is earned through time and dedication to your craft over years. Don't conflate it with fame. .... At a big design conference a few years ago, the organizers declared their mission: “To create a safe space for design.” I understood. Mostly. But I couldn't help imagining Garamond Simoncini curled under a weighted blanket or a new UX model being gently reassured it was "valid." Perhaps a poorly kerned logo was trembling backstage, beginning its healing journey. We were not there to celebrate design. Apparently, we were there to apologize to it. Their mission made me wonder: Have we confused comfort with creativity? And just when we need creativity the most? The real work of design has never been particularly safe. Nor should it be. It's uncertain, uncomfortable, and sometimes brutal. The way I see it, that's what makes it worth doing. That's what gives design the energy, meaning and magnetism good brands and people need. Design doesn't need a sanctuary. It needs standards. Design doesn't need protection. It needs people who care enough to say, “That's not good enough.” Such individuals don't appear overnight. They're not minted by a "branding certificate" or last week's newest prompt engineering guideline. Talent is built over time, through repetition, care, and the hard, invisible work of getting better. That's why walking into the room of the 2025 One Show to meet our Design Jury felt different. No posturing. No egos. No style ponies. At the center was Liza Enebels, Jury President—grace with teeth. She doesn't vibe. She judges. Around Liza? Dandara Almeida Nkenna Amadi Lara Assouad Fabio Barros Marcio Doti Carl Gerhards William Harald-Wong Ken-Tsai Lee Alexis Nikou Cynthia Pratomo Federico Russi Rehanah Spence Julia Ulmer Yah-Leng Yu This wasn't a jury. It was a masterclass. 15 designers from around the world, each carrying decades of focus, failure, refinement, and return. They didn't ask, “Is this brave?” Please. They asked, “Is this any good?” Not in the trending sense. In the lasting sense—the kind that holds up under sunlight and scrutiny. These weren't influencers. These weren't personalities. These are masters. That's why we invite them. In an age where mediocrity is crowd-approved, where design is flattened to mood boards and where opinions have been treated like acts of aggression—a standard isn't "gatekeeping." It's oxygen. Because if we want design to do more than scroll by—if we're going to matter— we don't need more “safe spaces.” We need rooms with spine. Rooms run by people who know the difference between good and loud. Who don't mistake a prompt for their purpose. Mastery isn't mean. It's imperative. So this jury aimed higher. In a profession that's becoming a lookalike, software-driven house of mirrors, I now see others aiming higher too. Just like everything good that lasts. Aiming for mastery.

Writing prompts for a large language model is basically giving instructions to a very, very smart parrot with an MFA. You talk, it talks back—but hopefully with something much more…useful. You don’t need a PhD or a fleece hoodie, but you do need to think. A good prompt is like a good dinner party question: clear, clever, and not too long. This new whitepaper from Google is not for people who enjoy guessing games. It’s for those who want real results from their Gemini model—through Vertex AI or API—where you can actually fine-tune things like “temperature,” which, shockingly, is not about the weather. They walk you through the art of prompt engineering, show you what works (and what really doesn’t), and help you become the kind of person AI actually listens to. Go, all prompt engineers. kaggle.com/whitepaper-prompt…

Why an ancient Greek myth still deeply resonates thousands of years later.

So, the robots will not only be weaponized for wars, but will be (more importantly) deployed for the performing arts. Boston Dynamics goes full-on cosplay. Convincingly.

“Why can’t we read anymore?” by Hugh McGuire hughmcguire.medium.com/why-c…

Futureshock. Kawasaki has just introduced a four-legged robot. It runs, climbs, and jumps like a horse. You ride it like a horse, too. It runs on hydrogen. Welcome Corleo. A robotic tauntaun. And this new tauntaun will NOT freeze before you reach the first marker. .

Design Rule 186 When a designer speaks, they immediately start sounding like someone who wants approval or someone who has something worthwhile to say. Choose.

New York City gets its first subway map redesign since I first came to the city in 1798. Holy shit. It is beyond great to see the long-awaited map finally come to life - and with overdue improvements made from all of the testing and evaluation iterations! But, please keep in mind @MTA to focus on understanding just how this new map does with daily subway riders and those who rely on it the most. Align any other crits with real commuters, their real needs their necessary updates. All that said, it looks great. So, bravo!

Becoming a leader: Is “killing your old self” a good idea? Probably. Leaders win by outsmarting the game, not outshining their players. And if you cannot do that with your old self…well, you know what to do. bigthink.com/business/becomi…