For instance, if COINs could develop things like the World Wide Web and Wikipedia, plus translate Facebook into Mandarin, couldn’t one definitively solve the problem of puce (a reddish- or purplish-brown color that literally means flea in French)? Imagine it as the It interior color for Fall 2009.  I would especially want Jonathan Adler to weigh in, as red with brown is part of his Design Manifesto. Somehow, he strikes me as a purist who’d prefer not to fuse those hues, but you never know.

What I do know is that COINS can work amazingly well. Last year, I had the privilege of being a part of the media team for the Blue Planet Run, the first ever around-the world relay to raise funds and awareness for the billion people on the planet who have no daily access to safe drinking water.

The Blue Planet Run Foundation envisions a world where every human can draw from their well or turn on their tap, and safely drink the water and their goal is to provide at least 200 million of them for the rest of their lives by 2027.

Toward that end, and I’m plagiarizing myself a bit here, they have already completed 130 safe, sustainable water projects in developing nations. And created their own cyberteam, the Peer Water Exchange (PWX), where donors, non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and observers work together to democratically manage and monitor rural water projects worldwide. With user-friendly technology replacing bureaucracy, learning and expertise are shared and collective success supported. Locals take ownership in building, maintaining and running their facilities and adapting the principles of safe drinking water, hygiene and sanitation. Their motto is Where There’s A Well, There’s A Way.

To learn more about the work of the Foundation and Peer Water Exchange, visit www.blueplanetrun.org

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What does HBO’s current mini-series, John Adams, have to do with contemporary lighting? Well…both are illuminating, appeal to bright people and kindle a desire for, and an appreciation of, self-expression. And then there’s that Father of Electricity thing.

So I started wondering what it would be like if John Adams and Ben Franklin were alive today and debating, say, pendant lamps.

JA: Now, Ben, why on Earth would you want to suspend your light source from the ceiling, when to put a lamp on the floor         or on a table is perfectly acceptable?

BF: I find diffused light at the end of a rope or chain simply magical, don’t you?

JA: Actually, when given a choice I always prefer the direct approach.

BF: There are pendants designed as “task” lighting—over a dining table, bar, kitchen sink or pass-through. And then there          are those that emit more ambience—like those in a living room or master suite. Either way, pendants float above the            fray—and free up counter space.

JA: If you don’t mind, Ben, I prefer to define “free” as in free-standing or portable.

BF: Even if you had to compromise style? A minimalist sensibility? A mid-century modern feel?

JA: I just want to sit in my favorite chair next to Abigail and read a good book, or hole up with my laptop to write my                   memoirs.

BF: Okay , but you don’t know what you’re missing.

JA: The lighting you prefer?

BF: No, I was thinking more of…lightening up.

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If you’ve ever studied a traditional Japanese flower arrangement and said to yourself, “Hey, that looks easy. I think I’ll try it at home” you may find out later there was more to your project than, at first, met your eye. It’s kind of like Picasso’s simple line drawings: anyone may be able to imitate them, but to come up with the IDEAS behind them—ahhhh, that’s quite a different matter. 

I bring this up, because over the weekend, I attended the annual Ikenobo Ikebana Society show at the Chicago Botanic Gardens. It’s an event I look forward to every year, because of the way just being in the room forces every bulb in my brain and dusts my soul with (hypo-allergenic) Fairy Pollen. The modernista and design geek in me loves the natural, elegant simplicity of the designs and the inventive interplay of flora and container. My Outer Gardener kvells at the sight of so many architectural flowers, leaves and branches. And the creative director in me loves…The Rules.

Ikebana is all about rules. The fun part is, literally, bending them.

Began by a Buddist monk in the 15^th Century, Ikebana literally means “arranged flower.” Originally an art of the spiritual elite, it can now be studied and mastered by anyone with the interest, talent or patience to do so.  There are many different Ikebana schools globally. The one whose show I attended happens to have over 60,000 teachers alone.

Without oversimplifying, which I admittedly tend to do (thus my interpretation and practice of another Asian art as Fung Shui Light), the main structure of Ikebana is formed by a triangle, created by twigs (symbolizing Heaven/Earth/Man or Sun/Moon/Earth) and arranged with a few flowers and greenery and maybe some river rocks. There should never be more than three elements and two of them should be the same. The vase or bowl or basin is also integral to the overall composition, which is why I’ve included a few samples here.

Long term, I hope to seriously engage with Ikebana. In the meantime, feel free to visit me in the virtual Shinto Bauhaus, where less is always more.

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I know you’re a modernista in spirit, especially when it comes to home décor, but I’m just a little bit curious about the ends you go to and the means you use to personally express yourself, and if you desire that self-expression to be consistently rolled up in one well-designed life, or if you even think about such esoteric things, or whether you even care about what the heck I’m talking about.

For example, does the exterior of your living space match the inside? I know many people are pleasantly surprised to find that my place is contemporary, open and engaging when they walk through the door.  Does that mean it looks like Shady Acres from the street? Sure, something more, say, Frank Gehry-ish I’ve seen off the canals in Venice Beach, or even this loft I saw for sale in Fort Lauderdale are more my style, but…does the inconsistency bother me? Certainly not while I’m sitting in my living room on a Sunday morning sipping organic, shade-grown micro-brew and reading the New York Times, but, in my dreams? A Fairy Contractor installs an entirely new façade, complete with chunky cement planters, slate chips, a few underlit river birch and 2’ x 4’ stone steppers while I sleep.

It’s not an obsession to have everything just the way I like it. Okay, well, maybe it is—kind of like wanting to do everything there is to see and do every day in Manhattan. So I’ve trained myself to at least be discerning in my choices and standards, however quirky my taste in interior design, art, architecture, travel, fashion, mode of transportation, music, politics, people and pets may be.

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The question is, why wouldn’t you want to add some metal to your petals and do a little “hardscaping” before the season’s in full swing and you haven’t the time, nor as many choices, to pepper your patio with the pretty and the practical (not always mutually exclusive, as you shall soon see!):

A dining set perfect for tete-a-tetes. A contemporary communal fire pit. Sophisticated seating for your guests. Whimsical garden decorations, including floating votives and bilevel bird feeders, magnificent mobiles and I’ve-died-and-gone-to-Coral-Gables sculpture.

Some of the pieces mentioned are made from stainless steel that just won’t rust. (By the most canny of coincidences, I just discovered how rust-on-stainless is chemically impossible in a display next to the Deco darling of a choo-choo, the California Zephyr, at the Museum of Science and Industry.) Others are designed in regular steel, the most recycled metal EVER. Did you know that every year, North Americans recycle more steel (a lot of its in the 100 million steel cans Americans use every day) than aluminum, plastic, glass and paper combined? And speaking of aluminum, did you know that it is not only durable, but highly sustainable? Yes! Over two-thirds of all the aluminum ever produced is in use today, including the half of all aluminum cans [113,204 a minute—you do the math!] that are recycled. Learn much more at earth911.org

Not to change the subject, but…I’m always fascinated by die-cutting in general, but on metal it’s particularly sexy.

So what other advantages are there to spiffing up the ol’ backyard for spring and summer? Three words: big, yummy barbeques.

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Some of the most redeeming physical features of Chicago’s North Shore suburban enclaves—I mean, besides expansive views of Lake Michigan, the splendiferous Ravinia Festival, wide open green spaces, network of scenic bike paths, world-class Botanic Gardens and densely wooded ravines and forest preserves—are its magnificent mid-century modern homes, or what remains of them, lodged like precious stones between the faux Tudors, ungepatchked Georgians, Heinz 57s, and, in all fairness, real pre-war mansions, that line Sheridan Road and its arteries from Green Bay Road to the cliffs above the shore.

I say what remains of them out of fear that many of these architectural treasures have been torn down in recent years to make way for a whole lot-o-lot-line-to-lot-line hooey. It’s a shame.

These well-planned, organically-built homes (vintage 1945-65) are more or less an extension of Frank Lloyd Wright’s site-specific Prairies, combined with International (Scandinavian) and Bauhaus influences. They are stylistically pretty simple, usually small-d democratic in scale, and decidedly more fun and modern than the standard issue tract home in which I grew up in Southern California. (Ironically, mid-century is often referred to as California Modern.) Huge windows, open floor plans, a functional flow, and, sometimes, state-of-the-art energy efficiency are also characteristic of this breed.

I believe it’s precisely because mid-century modern homes were conceived so thoughtfully that their staying power has been so great. Still, there are those among us that have no interest in living in one, or joining Preserve L.A. or the Atomic Age Alliance or one of many other preservation groups. You know what? They probably don’t share our passion for all things modern and contemporary either.

And they’re certainly not reading this.

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Sure, many parts of the Midwest are still blanketed in the white stuff, but that’s only temporary, right? Right? Well, can we just pretend that that’s true? It is officially Spring, gosh darn it, after all, and not a moment too soon to start thinking of, once again, making our gardens snow—er, grow.

Seven years ago, I bought a house so I could bury my hands into the crusty Illinois soil and feel like one with Nature. Three hoses, nine zillion seeds and seven hundred and eighty-three bulbs later (about half of which I swear have been eaten by our friends, the squirrels), I am still thrilled by the first blooms popping out of the ground—crocuses,  followed by daffodils, followed by tulips and irises, yet so over major free-form productions, I’d just like to go back to sticking my green thumbs into containers.

Containers are like picture frames, allowing you to create one small work of art at a time. Their shape and where they’re placed—on a patio, up front or back steps, on a wall or hanging—are major determinants of which annuals, plants and vines you actually use. Of course, the usual sun or shade rules apply, too. And, oh yeah, there’s that drainage issue. And, getting just the ones you want. Like clothes, it seems all the best ones are snapped up early in the season. 

Once I’ve found the perfect pots, it’s often been helpful to bring them with me to the nursery. There I can actually see how the colors, heights and textures go together and, without having to read all the labels, get passionate advice and motivation from the resident experts. You just want to take some of these lovely people home with you and the flats.

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