The Courage to Create and Connect à la Frank Gehry

Poking about the internet I came upon a Playing for Change video. I was enjoying the various stars and regular humans in the video, and up popped Frank Gehry. “Wow!” I thought. “Is he still with us?” No disrespect intended, I hoped he was, I just didn’t know. So I searched, and sure enough he is.

I don’t know too much about Frank, but in spite of my lack of knowledge, I am fascinated by him. His thoughts, his less than linear buildings that defy the traditional rectangular box-like structure and the way he embraces the possibilities of architecture, walls, buildings, and materials are intriguing. It’s as though he envisioned the walls as fabric — able to curve, move, and have life. How cool, courageous, creative, and amazing is that vision, much less the choice to actual create these structures. Look at the Guggenheim in Bilbao. The building is wild and beautiful, and what the museum is doing with the space for community and learning is pretty amazing. I suspect a great deal of what they are doing is inspired by his design.

With Frank back in my consciousness, I searched for videos with him speaking. There are a lot! I’m looking forward to watching a few. I’ve just started watching Jump Into the Unknown.

I feel a kindred spirit with Frank when I hear him speak. While we are in different fields — he an architect, me an educator — I see my interactions with him and his ideas as remarkable moments of professional development! I’ve blogged about him previously, and suspect there will be many more thought-provoking ideas, but for now, here’s what struck me today.

Jump Into the Unknown begins with Frank telling the story of standing before a large Greek statue. He said the experience made him cry. He goes on to say, “I thought, boy that’s what an architect should do … be able to have an emotional response with their work that lasts through the centuries. So that’s what I try to do now. I know that’s pompous, but at least it’s a wish. It’s a hope.”

I thought, “That’s my hope and wish, too!”

I understand your incredulity, but before you scoff or write me off let me explain.

Might I have people with emotional responses to my work centuries from now? Perhaps not. My work is much different than an architect’s. Nonetheless it remains my hope, my wish, and my goal to have that type of impact on others, And let’s consider my work. My work and interactions with others changes me and them. This then impacts future thinking, doing, and interacting. Continue this line of thought and it is highly likely that my choices, words, behaviours, creations, and dealings with others, will engender connections and emotional responses centuries after each young human and their parents have been in my learning space.

As an educator, I strive to create positive connections and emotional responses, and to make a difference in the lives of those I encounter. Unlike Frank, I don’t think that’s a pompous wish or hope. It’s a wish and hope that understands the importance and power of what I do, and the people I do it with and for.