LOOKING BACK

Back in the winter of 2011, when John finally convinced me to do this 365 project, I told him then that I’d do it on one condition: No blog.

At the time, the thought of putting myself out there for everyone to see – all my failures, my successes, my bad hair days, my overbearingly neurotic days, all my goals, my fears, my everything – freaked me right out. It may not seem like it now, but John and I are pretty low-key, private people. We’re not the type to start blogs and document our lives. (John barely uses Facebook.)

But John was absolutely right when he said to me: Laura, we need this blog; we need it to keep us organized and accountable. (I hate it when he’s right.)

So often we say we’re going to do things, we tell people in passing, and then hope they forget when we eventually fail to follow through. I have news for you: People don’t forget.

Ultimately, having this blog forced us to stick with this project to the very end. It also forced us to be diligent with our craft. As creative professionals, there was an added pressure to produce good content. I feel we achieved this on most days, but some days we definitely did not. Some days I didn’t want to write a single word. Some days John got lazy and left the camera at home. We all have our off days, and that’s ok. What’s more important is sticking with something and getting it done.

THINGS WE LEARNED:

Life moves fast. Take a risk.

If we’ve learned anything from this project, it’s that life moves fast. Really fast! A year can go by in an instant, by the time you realize that everything you “said” you’d do hasn’t come to pass. We like to believe that it’s “fear” that holds us back. I disagree. I think fear is just a concept. It’s an excuse we’ve created for ourselves to squash our potential. It’s not fear that holds us back, it’s CHOICE. The choice to NOT do something. It’s as simple as that. If you say you’re going do something, and then don’t do it, it’s probably because you really didn’t want to do it in the first place.

Failure is healthy.

We also learned that once we abolished “fear” as an excuse – once we realized that it’s in our realm to get things done, that we have a choice in the matter – the prospect of accomplishing our goals became much more realistic. We could start taking risks without worrying about fear or failure.

Samuel Beckett once said: “To be an artist is to fail, as no other dare fail… failure is his world.” This year we learned to embrace failure. We learned that it’s OK to weave a shitty basket, or make clumpy yogurt, or swamp our canoe. The truth is, no one gives a shit if you fail. Not really. People will, however, care if you succeed. People want you to succeed.

It takes a tribe to accomplish big goals.

Sometimes we forget that we’re a community of people. We forget that we have friends and family and colleagues who support us. In most cases, people will help you if you ask for their support. People will lend a hand (or even a backhoe!) to help you build that 10-ft snowman. Friends will be there if you ask them to help you build an exploding volcano (sure they were drunk, but still!). The important thing is asking. You have to make the effort. You have to take the chance. You have to take the risk. Goals, more often than not, are a collaborative effort.

If you put goodness out there, goodness will come back.

When we first started this project, I felt uncomfortable because I thought it was going to be all about us. (I’m not a showy kind of person.) But as the project progressed, we quickly realized that this project was about people more than anything. Bringing people together. Provoking people to think about their own lives and their own goals.

Over the year we’ve received some amazing emails from strangers, from friends, from old high-schoolmates we haven’t talked to in years, who tell us that our project has inspired them; some have even gone on to start their own personal quests, which I think is incredible.

It’s a humbling thing to know that you’ve affected someone else’s life. When this happens, I call that art. If this were an art conference, I might go into some conceptual speech about the importance of creating projects that blur the boundaries between art and life, that challenge people to reflect on those philosophical questions that they don’t get a chance to ask themselves often – but this isn’t an art conference (so I’ll stop and save these thoughts for later).

We never anticipated that this project would strike a chord with other people, although we had hoped it would. I’m still dumbfounded by the press this project has managed to attract. Once the Toronto Star article came out on January 1st, the radio and TV interviews followed. The attention has been overwhelming, and we remain thankful for being able to share this project with others on a mass scale.

GRATITUDE

Obviously, a huge round of thank-you’s are in order. I have to thank our family (our Moms and Dads and Liz & Dave especially) and our friends, for their support and encouragement, and for sharing their knowledge and skills with us. We couldn’t have done this without your generosity.

Also, thanks to all our anonymous readers who left us comments, sent us emails, and those who just tapped into the project once in awhile. Also, thanks to those reporters out there who picked up this story and shared it with the public.

Finally, thanks to John, my partner in crime. My ultimate best friend. Thank you for believing in me, for believe in us. For picking me up when I was down, or stressed, or frantic, or neurotic and overbearing. Thanks for being my #1 inspiration in life, in art, and love. (I can’t wait to marry you.)

WHAT NEXT?

People have asked, what’s next for us? Well, I think John and I will return to living semi-normal lives for awhile. That said, we’ve always got different creative projects on the go through Labspace Studio (they often involve lots of people). The next one we’ll be launching at the end of the month; it won’t be about “us” specifically, but it will be awesome none the less. And who knows, maybe we’ll start up a new blog at some point? Maybe we’ll blog about our around-the-world honeymoon this fall? Or running a nomadic business together?

If you’re interested in staying connected with us (which I hope you will), I encourage you to follow Labspace Studio (our creative agency) on Twitter and Facebook. You can also follow my personal Twitter account for Laura-only ramblings. (John’s not a Twitter guy).

So that’s it. It’s been an epic year for us. We feel blessed. Moving forward, I know we’ll continue to operate with the same amount of tenacity and openness to risk as 2012 (albeit at a slower place).

We leave you with our wrap-up video of the entire year. Music by Canadian singer-songwriter, Serena Ryder.

Most Sincerely,
Laura Mendes & John Loerchner
Co-Directors/Labspace Studio

PS:
If any publishers or producers or editors out there want to discuss the idea of publishing a 365 book, or movie, or anything of the sort, get in touch. We’ll call it: GET OFF YER ASS AND GIVE ‘ER!

(I jest, but not really.)

[The following is a designated 'John-only' to-do]

There’s a feeling you get when you stand on the edge of the ocean that there is something very large, wild and untameable out there in front of you. When you stand on the edge of the Canadian wilderness and look out it’s not much different. There is a whole wild world out there. It’s scary, it’s big, it’s beautiful and amazing. Once you take that first step out into it you can’t help but get tangled up…and then you can’t help but wonder when you’ll stop caring if you’ll ever come back again.

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It’s been a crazy year of adventures. We’ve seen some spectacular sights. But one thing I’ve been eagerly anticipating has been getting out on the ice.

For this climb based to-do, my good friend Daniel Moore joined me. This morning we met up with Shaun Parent who runs Superior Exploration, just north of Sault St. Marie. Shaun’s an experienced guide, who pioneered ice climbing in the Lake Superior region (among many other items on his long resume). After a meandering breakfast discussion on the finer points of climbing, the art of travel, and close-call climbing deaths, we headed out to the ice to earn our frigid stripes.

What a fantastic day. Everything went smoothly, no problems, mistakes, injuries or impalements (a condition somewhat unique to ice climbing).

Ice climbing is definitely not a sport to be approached lightly, but when approached correctly it can be an exciting, challenging, intense, rewarding experience. I’m in love with climbing all over again…or maybe I’ve found a mistress?

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PS: To-Do #365 will be posted later tonight! We’ve made a pretty awesome wrap-up video to show you, but the internet connection in my motel room is stupid slow. Looks like it will take a whole day for the video to process. Stick with us!

Let me tell you, there’s nothing pleasurable at all about getting a Pleasure Craft Operator card (which is just a fancy title for “Recreational Boat Operator” card). I think they stuck the word “pleasure” in there only to dupe people into coughing up the $49.00 to take their excruciatingly boring online test.

I feel awful for having to subject our friend Dan, our house guest for the night, to this bogus formality. We’re like: “Hey Dan! Welcome to our home. Want a beer? Want a coffee? Want to help us get our Pleasure Craft Operator card?! It only takes an hour, maybe four!?

Thankfully, Dan was a good sport about it all, and had no qualms sitting with us past midnight, absorbed in exciting things like boat hull designs, nautical charts, and how to properly care for a floatation device.

Unlike other online tests, we couldn’t skip through our study chapters like we had hoped. Each section was timed accordingly, forcing us to sit there and listen to the most painfully annoying moderator voice take us through the entire course.

In the end, we scored 94% on our final exam, which consisted of 50 multiple choice questions, taken from 5 different online study chapters, which took us just over 3 hours to fully read. (We may have looked up a couple answers on the internet.)

Now that that rigamarole is through, we’ll be looking forward to this upcoming summer. (One of our 2013 to-do’s is to learn how to sail.)

*Mucho thanks to Dan.

As John and I near the end of this year-long project of ours, we’ve had to put some thought into how we want to remember it all by.

People keep asking us: what’s next? Will there be a 365 book? A movie? A reality show? (I find all these questions sweet and semi-hilarious.)  While we never intended this blog to be anything more than what it is — a digital place to keep us on track and organized — it recently hit us just how much content we’ve produced over the year; thousands of photographs have been taken, nearly 365 musings of various lengths have been written, and over two dozen Youtube videos have been produced.

The thought of all this content disappearing into the vast unknown of cyberland, made us realize that having a physical keepsake to remember this year by is something we should have for ourselves.

So, when it came time to approaching this particular to-do, Make a photo scrapbook, we decided to do something even better:

For the last month, we’ve been working diligently on producing a 365 Things in 365 Days book. John, especially, has been working his ass off laying out this giant document. What you see here is a “curated” version of our year in coffee table book format, featuring the best photographs from the year, along with modified quotes and commentary.

Once the project comes to a close (this Sunday!), we’ll be printing our book through Blurb, a cool “Make your own book” company. If anyone is interested in getting their hands on one, let us know and we’ll keep you posted on the details. We’ll also have the full book available for you to download for FREE.

For now, we’ve included some sample pages for you to see our layout and creative direction. (We’re really pleased with how it’s all come together.)

We’ve got two more days to go on this project. Stick with us.

Our progress shots just came in from friend, Laura Heany, last night. Even in their half-realized stages, I’m in awe of her craft. Over the years and through operating Labspace Studio, John and I have met and worked with so many talented artists. But to help us achieve this particular to-do, we knew exactly who we’d be calling first.

Not only does Laura have a supreme technical ability, she has an almost unearthly way of capturing her subjects, of peeling away their layers to reveal a deeper, more mysterious essence about them, one that can’t be revealed in pixels alone. I find this fascinating.

I’m also intrigued by anyone who can achieve such extreme focus and care in their work. These are the people I often admire. The people who thrive in silence and stillness and who are comfortable in the act of being alone; I think they’re a rare breed these days.

Laura, if you’re reading, I wonder what it feels like to stare at someone’s face so intensely? Is there a process you go through, perhaps beyond the technical, that allows you to bring your subjects to life? (Feel free to comment below. I’d love to know.)

*We’ll be posting Laura’s finished drawings on Sunday (the very last day of our 365 project!). Come back and check them out. You can also view more of Laura’s work over on her website.

Update: Finals are up! And they’re magnificent.

After nearly a year of 365 “firsts,” I can honestly say that nothing has been more rewarding than the firsts we’ve been able to experience with other people.

There have been so many instances throughout the year that we’ve found ourselves having to rely on the skills, knowledge, resources, and generosity of friends and family to complete our epic to-do list. (This was something we didn’t anticipate when we first started out.)

It’s easy to forget, disregard, or take for granted the knowledge that can be found within your own immediate network; as consumers, we tend to look externally for that stuff.

But what we’ve learned in this project is that “knowledge” can be found everywhere, in the most unlikely places, and – if tapped accordingly and given the right context – can be the seed to some exceptional experiences.

Thanks to our friend, Brian Sasaki, for sharing his incredible gift with us last night.

Our friend and colleague, Gram Schmalz, is a brilliant guy. His official title with Labspace Studio is “Head of Experimental Technologies.” He does stuff like programs multichannel networks and builds interactive installations like this store-front window that makes music.

Last night, right before our yodeling session, Gram took us all through the process of building this adorable Arduino controlled sugar-scooping robot we affectionately named, “Annie the Sugar Bot.”

Team effort was required to problem solve our way through some of our robot’s kinks and quirks: we had to swap our base a few different times, adjust the height of our sugar bowl, the angle of the spoon, and the speed of the robot.

A few more tweaks and I think our little “Annie the Sugar Bot” might just have some market potential.

Late night experiments using ice, glass, light, and a drill.

Today I learned there’s a major difference between a “foot massage” and “foot reflexology.” A foot massage = pleasurable (maybe even ticklish). Foot reflexology = painful (bordering on torturous). We all make mistakes, but this one was a doozy.

All I wanted was a nice, relaxing foot rub. Instead I got some Chinese girl’s death hands. Screaming and wincing with every violent prod, poke and jab, I could not turn back on this mistake. No amount of rationalizing would stop Ming, my foot reflexologist, from inflicting pain on me:

“Um, hey, this hurts. Please stop?” “No. Trust me….is good for you. You thank me tomorrow.” “Um, no. Seriously. My whole foot feels like it’s on fire.” “Oh no…you fine.”

At one point Ming persisted to punch my heels and my calves vigorously with her fists, before giving me the equivalent of an “Indian sunburn” on my ankles.

I don’t know how John managed to stay composed, despite his obvious pain and discomfort. Me, I think every client in the entire massage parlor could feel my pain.

Giovanna has been in the “psychic” business for 17 years. From everything I’ve read online, she’s got a fairly good track record: decent reviews overall and a client base that seems to keep coming back.

Beyond being attractive and charismatic, Giovanna has a boisterous demeanour about her; if I didn’t know she was a physic I might have mistook her for some gossipy Italian soccer mom. (Looks can be deceiving.)

Today when we arrive at her Yonge St. studio, Giovanna greets us wearing jeans and a pink cardigan. She looks slightly disheveled, as though she just got back from a hard day of shopping at the Eaton’s Centre. I’m slightly disappointed, as I assumed she’d be wearing something a little more mystic looking like a head-dress or a cape or an eye patch.

She asks us what we’d like done today and we tell her we’d each like to have an individual tarot card reading ($40 a pop). John stays seated in the waiting room, which looks like the bedroom of some seventeen year-old acid head, and I follow Giovanna to a tiny side room off the main foyer. Once seated, Giovanna takes out her tarot cards, asks me to cut the deck in half, and proceeds to tell my fortune.

During our 25 minutes together, Giovanna tells me many things, most of which goes in one ear and out the other. I can recall a lot of the same remarks from the other reviews I read online earlier: “I see you working abroad.” “There’s definitely real-estate in your future.” “One of your parents is not healthy.” A couple times she sends a text message during my reading, and at one point lets out a long, loud yawn.

John’s reading is no better. He gets the same, banal, copy and paste kind of assessment. Before he knows it, he’s back in the waiting room with me, handing over his $40 to Giovanna. Sucker.

Neither us of really expected to encounter a legitimate psychic today. But we did expect to be entertained; a little smoke and mirrors in this context could have gone a long way. Instead we got a soccer mom in jeans and a pink cardigan.