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How Picasso Redesigned Apple, Inc. — And Our Lives

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(Pic #1) The Bull, Lithograph by Pablo Picasso, 1945 / Inspiration for Mac sleek.

Twelve lines — and there it was.

It seems almost impossible to fathom, but just one defiant Spanish artist revolutionized the way a multi-billion dollar industry designs its products, and changed the way we all work. Pablo Picasso, the irreverent, most trailblazing painter and sculptor of the 20th century, continues to shape style and function, nearly half a century after his death.
The series of bull drawings below, explain how. And why Apple, Inc. is still “all in.”

(Pic #2) “The Bull” (lithograph series) Pablo Picasso, 1945

Picasso pretty much defined minimalism through these eleven drawings…starting with a fairly realistically rendered bull up top, and ending with a handful of lines that evoke the animal’s “essence” at the bottom. The series is a step-by-step illustration of how to break an image down into its most basic parts.

Today, Apple incorporates these lithographs into its internal, highly secretive training program.

(Pic #3) Steve Jobs: “Let’s make it simple. Really simple.”

Jonathan Ive, head of design under Steve Jobs, describes the process of creating one of Apple’s Power Macs: “We wanted to get rid of anything other than what was absolutely essential,” he said. “We kept going back to the beginning, again and again. Do we need that part? Can we get it to perform the function of the other four parts?”
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The relationship between Apple and the prolific painter was exposed in a New York Times article in 2014. The Apple Uiniversity course on communication (taught by Randy Nelson, the former dean of Pixar University) focused on all 11 versions of “The Bull.” His point was: you rip through dozens and dozens of iterations until you can simply deliver your message in a concise way. The Apple brand has stayed true to that philosophy, ever since.
As the former Apple CEO explained: “The way we’re running the company, the product design, the advertising, it all comes down to this: Let’s make it simple. Really simple.”
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Fun fact: Steve Jobs was influenced by 20th-century European artists. In fact, the original Mac logo from 1984 was inspired by Picasso’s contemporary and sometimes rival, Henri Matisse.

 

The Art Of Knowing What Matters

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How the Southern Cal wildfires forced me to “go deep” — again.

(Pic #2) Safe! Classic blades from the 1960s.

One of the things artists do, is draw attention to what’s important, or at least to what they think is important. They do this with shape, color, texture, light, and shadow. That part is easy. The hard part is knowing what’s important. It’s true in art, it’s true in life.

On January 17th, 1994, I was in Lake Tahoe on assignment when the Northridge earthquake struck. Within hours I had learned that my personal sanctuary, my house-on-stilts in Coldwater canyon was a total loss, and had been red tagged. It was deemed uninhabitable, and more than that, just stepping foot in the house would be not only foolhardy, but illegal. However, my things were in there, and I wanted them. No, I needed them. When I got to the house, the driveway was literally torn away from the street. I could look down and see the canyon. But I hopped over the crevice and went in anyway.

I needed my mementos, my artwork, my clothes, my important papers. Understandable right? Those things are important. But — apparently I also absolutely had to have my ice skates, which I hadn’t worn since I was 16, and my cookware, which got less use than my ice skates. In that moment I had lost all sense of what was important. When I got back on solid ground, physically and emotionally, I swore that would never happen again.

(Pic #3) The view from our house, as we heard calls for mandatory evacuation.

Then a couple weeks ago my neighborhood caught fire. Josh was at work when the word came to evacuate. He told me to get together the things I absolutely couldn’t live without, and he would pick them up in a couple hours. In the meantime, I would grab the cats, and go. I won’t go into detail about the huge pile of curious things assembled for him to retrieve, I will only say I’d forgotten my pledge.

I am not sure exactly what the lesson is here. Except to say this: The firestorm has passed, hundreds of homes were burned, ours was spared. The people I love are safe. My cats are happy and healthy. I still have my ice skates. I also have, once again, a commitment to focus on what’s important. My hope is that I will remember to give those things shape, and color, and texture and light, and leave the inconsequential things in the shadows.

Wish me luck.

The Art of “Great Neighboring”

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(Pic #2) Piglet found, recovering from her 2-days M.I.A.

Lost: Deaf Black Cat / Found: Best Neighbors Ever

I call it a miracle, but in truth, it’s just the way life should be. Last Sunday our 14-year-old deaf, asthmatic, one-toothed cat got out after dark, and completely disappeared in a matter of minutes. We panicked, and began to search for her in the neighborhood with a flashlight. But being hearing impaired, it wasn’t as if we could call, “Here, kitty kitty.”  Our mission was oddly quiet. We searched up trees, down drains, and under cars.

Nothing. I began to cry, and Josh tried to keep me positive. But we had seen hungry coyotes lurking on our street before, and couldn’t help envisioning her quick demise.

Awakening the network

Desperate to get the word out as fast as we could, I remembered a friend had recommended a community website called, “Next Door.” It has a section for Lost and Found Pets, and apparently, people really read it. I uploaded a photo of “Piglet” and described our quest. “Lost: Deaf Black Cat — Very friendly, very loud.”

(Now when I say “loud” — I mean ear-piercing. This old cat meows so loud, that I’m pretty sure you’ve heard her, wherever you live. Even if it’s on the East coast. And it’s not a traditional cry, it’s more of a high-pitched Ethel Merman yowl.)

The next day, three people I’ve never met stopped by to offer their searching services, and one nearby animal-loving woman named “Bambi” offered to help tape posters up on telephone poles. I welcomed the reinforcements.

Two nights and two days go by. I had checked two animal shelters and a local vet. The cat was microchipped, so we had that going for us. But the the silence in our house was painful. Josh and I both heard phantom howls in our sleep, and I’d run outside in the middle of the night to check.

Bambi then called and suggested one last effort. She said delivering the flyers to neighbor mailboxes would catch the eye of people who don’t see the telephone poles. I thought it might be worth a try. Made 10 more copies, and slammed them hopelessly into nearby boxes. But that night I pretty much decided the game was over…. and I began looking on shelter websites to adopt another cat. I found quite a few candidates.

Then, 48 hours after her disappearance…as I drove home from the gym and began to turn into my driveway, I saw an animated crowd of people in front of our house. I saw that the sprinklers were blasting, and thought the neighbors were there to help with the what I believed to be a water emergency. Then I heard the magic words as I rolled down my car window: “We found your cat!”

I sat there in disbelief. Odds are, they found someone’s cat, but unlikely mine. But my new neighbor Tim (across a major street and two houses up the hill) emerged from the shadows holding the most beautiful little black face I’d ever seen. It was Piglet. I reached out to hold her head, and she started purring. I melted, parked the car and took her from Tim’s arms. The picture below is how we slept together that night: arm in arm.

(Pic #3) Nighty-night, Piglet.

It turns out, Tim and his wife had seen our flyer in their mailbox. They read that she had a loud meow, and heard her wail outside their window. It could not be ignored. When Tim spotted her, she wouldn’t come at first, but then he offered her a piece of ham. She had obviously gone some time without eating or drinking, and came out of the bushes to safety. The flyer photo was a perfect match. We suspect Piglet was chased by a larger critter, but we’ll never know for sure. She was skinny, had collected a wreath of leaves around her tail, but overall, was none the worse for wear.

So the lesson for me is this: Creative collaboration continues to convince me it is the best way to solve a problem. If you’re stuck, share the task. If you can share it with loving neighbors, all the better. Being open to others’ ideas can help break through the paralyzing fear, guilt, or sense of chaos we feel when faced with a heart-crushing loss.

Thank you, Bambi. Thank you, universe. Welcome home, Piglet.

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