vol. 2, no. 20 | Daylight
Shortly after leaving college I began to realize that the thing I had liked most about the storytelling, poetry, and open-mic events we used to host and perform at was not that the work itself was any good, but that it was being performed by people I cared about.
That it was live media—something crafted and performed—also allowed for a kind of attention and distance that many times felt more connective than hearing the same story told over conversation.
(I always think of a friend who was saved on a mountain climbing trip by a massive search and rescue operation. So many of us had heard him talk about it after we got back from summer break, but the version he told in front of a small crowd felt so much more expansive.)
I don’t mean to say that you can’t truly know what someone’s summer was like if they don’t present about it to you for nine-and-a-half minutes—there are so many ways to connect with and know about people—but there’s something that continues to feel really special about these mediated experiences, about turning a metaphorical (and literal) spotlight on someone.
Livvy and I started calling this kind of thing ‘micro media’: media made for a specific person or group of people, which works (at least on one level) because of preexisting shared context.
That’s what PowerPoint Party and Glint and In The Making are, at least partially. We learn or are entertained or shocked by information and stories and processes, and through them we also get to know about actual real people within this community—what people do for work, for fun, what they’re fascinated by, how they got together, what they’re processing.
And I think Summery is a particularly wonderful version of this, because—being the close and porous group of people that we are—so many of us have been in each other’s summers, have sat together at the same parks, tables, events. And still, there is so much I didn’t know about your summer, that I’m so glad to know now.
Thanks to everyone who came out, who presented and listened, for sharing your summers with us.
—Ivan
Happenings
This week:
Mary Ann’s Book Club: Stand Out of Our Light, Monday, September 29
This book, written by a former Google strategist, makes the case that certain technologies make it hard for us to want what we really want. It holds the high honor of being included in the Alex Prinsen Media Theory Library for Anti-Technopolistic Thought, and has been described by library founder, Alex Prinsen, as a really good primer.
You are likely far too late to start reading it now, but we still welcome you to come to the discussion.
$0–$10, free for members
Keep your sunlight unobstructed →
Weekly Wednesday Worknight, Wednesday, October 1
The Company is about combining creative work with good friendships. Make an appointment with your side project this (or any) Wednesday at a Worknight, where we oscillate between enforced, focused, quiet time and optional chatty social time.
$5, free for Company and Moonlight members
PowerPoint Party No. 31, Saturday, October 4
Twelve people giving 7-minute presentations about whatever they’re currently into. At past parties, people have presented about propulsion, Beyoncé, storytelling, and witch hunts. It’s a wide mix.
It’s a nerdy and sincere crowd that cares a lot, and we’ve met some of our favorite people at these.
Want to present? We’ve got a waiting list. Want to just show up and meet interesting people and learn about what’s fascinating them lately? That’s great too. Bring a friend, or come alone and make a friend.
$10, free for members and presenters
Next Week:
Mild Salsa No. 8, Sunday, October 5
Are you interested in learning how to dance salsa for the very first time? Or continuing to learn? Or pretending like you don’t already know and then blowing us all away with how quickly you seem to pick it up on your very first try? Then join us for our next Mild Salsa class! Organized by Michelle and Mark, taught by Jess Torres, attended by people you have no reason to feel embarrassed around.
$5
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Also coming up: Glint: Flight (Oct 14), In The Making (Oct 23), Offsite: Madeleine telling at The Moth GrandSLAM (Oct 24), The Third Annual Creative Coding Art Show (Oct 25)
Nostalgia
Do you remember the zoo day that Alex organized? How it opened with mariachis, and we started with snacks? That Beth’s hairstyle looked mildly like a giraffe’s, and we wondered if they were confused? How her hair was also the same color as the flamingos?
How we didn’t see any bears, but then later we did? That we saw a sea lion show? That we spotted the snuggly sleeping otters and aww-ed so loudly that we woke them all up? How we saw so many other beautiful animals?
Do you remember the surprise of the new mulch, bright and springy, that first day of fall? How I thought about attempting a backflip but was reminded of my age and responsibilities? How Dan earnestly asked me to consider that it might actually be the last thing I ever did?
How that night we had Summery? How so many of us had been there for so many parts of each other’s summers, and still it was such a novel thing to hear about them?
That afterward you biked home in the rain, and every prickle reminded you of how happy you were to be alive? How your home smelled like autumn when you arrived?
Do you remember the morning that you called in wardrobe support for your new client meeting, and it went well? How outside it was so cold and cloudy and very much fall? That we had a Rice Krispies treat? How we ran into Jim during recess?
The Moonlight report, the progress, and the plans? The brainstorming about how one might double-or-nothing their wager? The coin flip?
Or the morning that the for ‘sale signs’ arrived? How they were loudly drilled into the walls?
How we ran into Livvy outside on the way back from grabbing lunch? How we talked about death and jobs and a plan to hug the building? How we planned for retirement, and hoped we’d all someday reach it? The afternoon with Ryan?
Do you remember the big Worknight? How a tiny delegation of us ‘ran in’ to Rebeca at her work meetup? That Case and Livvy collaborated on a receipt printer? That thirteen of us successfully unraveled?
Or the collage night at Orbis, after that quiet day? How we sat in a circle with scraps of paper all around as night fell?
The recess that we walked to the playground just to sit and lay down?
Bureaucratic Minutiae
Jessica S. has joined the Paperwork staff as a Contributing Nostalgia Reporter and Assistant Photo Editor.
The playground has new mulch! It’s super springy.
At Summery: Livvy, Fer, Jim, Beth, Lizzie, Alex, Ivan, Halie, Elliot, Mark, and Allyson reflected on the most recent delineation in the inexorable march of time, and what it meant to them.
You may have seen, or will soon see (either in a following photo or with your own eyes) signs outside our building announcing its availability for purchase. This isn’t news. The building has been for sale for quite some time, it is just now more explicitly for sale than it was before. Yes, it does seem more real now, and yes, it was hard to hear the loud sounds of the signs drilled into walls that feel like parts of me. You ask if we have a plan? Of course we do. It is as follows: The building will get sold (as of yet we can’t figure out how to be the people it gets sold to, being that we can’t figure out how to come up with the money). Perhaps the future owner will look kindly upon us and let us remain as tenants while they wait for the market to be more favorable. But at some point, we will be asked to leave. We will comply peacefully, but we will remain vigilant. It may be weeks, months, years, or decades, but at some point the new owners will choose to tear this old building down. They will not be sentimental about it. After a lifetime of razing old buildings it will just be another calculation, the whole purpose of their purchase. This structure, that has stood at this corner since the late eighteen-hundreds, that has seen a city unfold before it, will not be worthy of preservation. But our contacts at the permitting offices, or our spies in the neighborhood, will give word, and on the date scheduled for its demolition we will reassemble on this hallowed plot of land. Those of us that remain alive and in the area, who remember what this space meant to us, will appear, with new and old friends, partners, lovers, children, grandchildren. Some of us will even fly in from afar. And we will link arms in a chain and surround the building. We will stare in the eyes of its destroyers, the people in suits and puffer vests, the workers atop their heavy machinery, and in one voice we will proclaim that we loved this place. That it meant something to us. That we shared so much life inside these walls. That they cannot possibly know how sacred this space was. We will say that this was the birthplace and first home of something great and strange. That it was a both a way station and a refuge. That this is a place where friendships and romances began, and have they ever had a place like that? Do they know what it is like to be displaced from a palace of memories? We will say all of this in unison (for some time before we will have come up with very catchy chants that get at all of these key points). And then we will each unlink arms, turn around to face the building, and give it a very long hug. That’s our plan.
At Worknight: Lexi scanned photos; Livvy printed something on the receipt printer; Alex built an extension form; Ryan finished an actuarial exam chapter; Case added an image to a website; Lizzie uploaded Paperwork photos to the website; Ivan poked PowerPoint Party presenters; Norton worked on art show layouts; Will worked on an ASCII canvas box; Allyson finished a resumé; Drew A. started a resident artist PowerPoint; and Dan planned an art show (unrelated to Norton’s).
To follow up on the peaches: Beth has made a plethora of smoothies; a delicious peach + honey puree that she drinks over ice with sparkling water; peach + Bleu cheese salad; peach, brie, honey, and butter on a toasted English muffin.
Finally, a reminder that The Company is a member-supported gathering place, and if you know any of us, you’re welcome to pop in any time for free (outside of events). If you know that one of us is here and you’d like to come by, reach out and we can let you in.
Photos
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This issue of Paperwork was written by Ivan with additional reporting from Jessica S., and was shot by Ivan and Lizzie. Photo selection and editing by Ivan, Jessica S. and Livvy. Editorial support was provided by Livvy and Norton. This issue, and The Company itself, was made possible by the support of our members, Halie, Drew, Justin, Mason, Lexi, José, Mary Ann B., Trevr, Allyson, Lizzie, Melissa, Elijah, Michelle, Jim, Jaime, Jacob, Mark, Sabrina, Beth, Dani, Chris, Will, Rebeca, Sarah, Mary Ann T., Alex, Jessica P., Jessica S., Mike, Ben, Sam, and Liz.
Do you know anyone in the Denver area who might be looking for creative community? Feel free to forward this email along to them. Everyone loves Paperwork.
😘