MORE TO COME...

Latest Posts

History was all around me: PreserveCast podcast of my career in preservation (so far)

Published by DJB

“Connection to place is very important to me, and I learned that by walking the streets of Franklin and Murfreesboro, where I grew up. History was all around me . . . and I’ve always wanted to do something about connecting the past to today.”

When PreserveCast host Nick Redding began our recent conversation on the award-winning Preservation Maryland podcast with a question about my path to preservation, my thoughts went to my childhood home, grandmother, and a favorite downtown theatre.

That podcast, looking at my work at the National Trust for Historic Preservation and more, can now be found on the PreserveCast website.

In a thirty minute interview, Nick and I explore not only how I became a preservationist, but also the various jobs that led to my serving as the Chief Preservation Officer at the National Trust from 2010 until I stepped down from the position at the end of March 2019.

“Somebody said that ‘Chief Preservation Officer’ is one of the great titles in the preservation field. Its not as good as ‘Keeper of the National Register,’ but I’ve always thought it is quite an honor at an institution like the Trust, which has such a legacy and also such promise, to be the Chief Preservation Officer. . . .to have responsibility for all our major program areas, is quite an honor and something I think about every day as I do my job.”

Some of the most interesting conversation took place around preservation losses and preservation success stories. When Nick asked what I saw as the biggest preservation loss in recent years, my mind went back to a 2014 battle over a National Historic Landmark.

“I always think the loss of a National Historic Landmark (NHL) is a very sad occasion. There are not that many of them. These are places of national significance and we should do everything we can to try and keep these places — saved, thriving, alive. We were involved in trying to save the Chautauqua Amphitheatre, which is near Buffalo, which was part of a NHL district. This was a place where FDR, William Jennings Bryan, Susan B. Anthony, Thurgood Marshall, Ella Fitzgerald, Van Clyburn . . . the list could go on . . . These people were on the stage there at the Amphitheatre. And yet the institution, in 2014, said we’re going to demolish the Amphitheatre, ‘We’re just going to build a new one. It will have better amenities but it will look just like the old one.’ Well, that’s just not the same. . . . When we lose something at that level of significance to the country, it cannot be replaced.”

Even with a replica, we’ve lost the physical connection which I spoke of at the top of the podcast. It was a totally unnecessary loss of a building that could have been easily saved, easily reused, easily renovated for the next century of use.

Nick followed that question with one about my biggest preservation victory, perhaps something I’d had a hand in during my tenure with the National Trust.

That’s like being asked to choose your favorite child.

So, I took the approach of highlighting three victories. First, while I had only a marginal role in the saving of Mies van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House, I see it as a special preservation victory on multiple fronts, not the least of which is that we kept it connected to its site, its place. Next, I turn to the Pauli Murray House, in Durham, North Carolina. I’m ashamed to admit that I did not know who Pauli Murray was when one of our staff members brought this project to me, but I now know that she was one of the most exceptional and influential women of the 20th century. I note that I like this place because it tells me, “extraordinary people can come from very ordinary places, and that’s part of us telling the story as well.” Finally, I end with the 2017 fight to save the Federal Historic Tax Credits. Organizations like the National Trust do some of their best work when they advocate for tools which local organizations, local citizens, local governments can use to save places in their communities.

At the end of the podcast, Nick has another of those “name your favorite child” questions, when he asked me to choose my favorite historic site or place.

You’ll have to listen to the PreserveCast podcast for the answer.

Many thanks to Nick Redding, Preservation Maryland, and the PreserveCast crew for the opportunity to reflect on what’s past…and what’s ahead.

More to come…

DJB

Image: Preserve Cast – Preservation Maryland’s podcast where historic preservation and technology meet

Don’t create followers, create more leaders

Published by DJB

Management guru Tom Peters has said, “Leaders don’t create followers, they create more leaders.”

In the middle of a week full of simple yet sublime pleasures, I also had the opportunity to experience unexpected leadership lessons with long-time colleagues and friends.

This story begins with The National Trust of England, Wales, and Northern Ireland, which has been a model for preservation and conservation organizations since its founding in 1895. While many National Trusts exist around the world, all are modeled in one way or the other on this original National Trust. I’ve worked with U.K. Trust staff members over the years and have come to count several as dear friends. The Trust’s work to connect people with places and the willingness to give back out of its century of experience to the international preservation and conservation communities have long been an inspiration.

I spent time last week interacting with the National Trust at several levels. The long-time connections were also how we found ourselves in Cambridge last Monday, visiting with Dame Fiona Reynolds, Master of Emmanuel College and the former Director-General (or CEO) of The National Trust. Fiona, an extraordinary leader, had invited us to join her at High Table, an opportunity I wasn’t going to miss.

The Front Court at Emmanuel College, Cambridge

Wren Chapel at Emmanuel — Emmanuel’s chapel, designed by Christopher Wren

Emmanuel College High Table — The Emmanuel College dining hall, set for High Table

It isn’t easy getting from the Cotswolds to Cambridge without a car, but a half-day ride on two trains brought us to Emmanuel on Monday afternoon, where we toured the college’s courts, gardens, and beautiful Christopher Wren chapel. As evening arrived, we all gathered for High Table, a tradition of colleges at Oxford, Cambridge, and beyond. And it was there that I saw leadership lesson #1 in action:

You have the power as a leader to make everyone feel welcome and secure, no matter how lofty your position or prestigious the event.

Through the years I’ve seen how Fiona nurtures relationships, speaking to everyone in ways to support and uplift others while never forgetting a name. Add in an easy-going, casual, and unaffected manner and even something as potentially intimidating as a formal dinner with professors in their academic gowns at one of the constituent colleges of Cambridge University becomes a delightful evening of good food, wonderful drink, and stimulating conversation with some very smart people. It was a night of pleasures to remember.

One of the people Fiona brought into my life is now another dear friend, Catherine Leonard. My interactions with Catherine later in the week led me to recognize leadership lesson #2:

Support and uplift people and chances are they will shine. That’s how leaders create other leaders.

I’ve worked closely with Catherine since she came on staff at the International National Trusts Organisation (INTO) more than a decade ago. She now leads the Secretariat at INTO as the organization’s Secretary-General. Under Fiona’s mentorship and support as the Chair of the board, Catherine has been encouraged to blossom into a strong leader in her own right, something I’ve been fortunate to observe first-hand. When learning that we were traveling to the U.K., Catherine immediately invited us to Northington in Hampshire to spend time at her family home with her husband Ben and children Monty and Connie.

Catherine Leonard Family (c) Leela Bennett — Catherine, Connie, Ben, and Monty – our wonderful hosts in Hampshire (Copyright Leela Bennett)

Gas Cottage drawing — Architectural drawing from the 1860s for the “Gas Cottage” on Lord Ashburton’s estate in Northington

Catherine and Ben live in a historic cottage that has been in Catherine’s family for 50 years. We loved hearing the story of how both Catherine and Connie were born in the house. (Yes, the English are so much more civilized risk takers!) Originally built in the 1860s as a cottage for the man who ran the gas plant for Lord Ashburton’s Grange estate, it was bought — and later expanded in a manner sympathetic to its historic design — by Catherine’s parents. This delightful cottage sitting in the middle of a bucolic English countryside became our Hampshire home for the middle part of the week.

Over three days we mixed business and pleasure: a first-rate performance (with dinner at intermission) of The Marriage of Figaro in their backyard at The Grange Festival; sharing experiences and aspirations with approximately 100 members of the National Trust staff at Heelis, their headquarters in Swindon; travels to the National Trust World Heritage Site Avebury; dinner at the local Hampshire pub The Woolpack Inn; prepping for a meeting with senior staff at Historic England concerning work on Main Streets — known in the U.K. as High Streets; providing Connie with fun facts about Wisconsin and Maine to flesh out a school project on the two states. Through it all, Catherine’s strengths as a leader shown through.

Stone entranceway into the Avebury World Heritage Site

Circle of stones at Avebury — View of the circle of stones (and village later built in the middle of the circle) at Avebury

One of my many conversations with Catherine around our mutual work and interests centered on the values she crafted for herself over the past couple of years. At the recent International Conference of National Trusts in Bermuda, I heard Catherine use the phrase, “Not just consuming, but contributing.” This week I asked her about it. She told me it came from her crafting of values and was a way forward she was seeking to internalize in work and life. And there was leadership lesson #3:

Leaders don’t just consume, they contribute.

The value resonated for me, as I appreciate experiences to simply buying and consuming more and more things. But Catherine’s take adds the importance of contributing. We all take up space on this earth, and she was reminding me that what we do with our time and talent will be weighed against what we take away as consumers of limited resources.

Over the past decade, Catherine has been busy contributing to the work of creating, building, and strengthening National Trusts — and a new set of heritage conservation leaders — all around the world. Catherine’s contributions were, of course, allowed to flourish more abundantly because of nourishment and support received from mentors and colleagues such as Fiona. Throughout the week, both friends showed me time and again how their work, as leaders, creates more leaders.

Friends nurture our soul in different ways. Sometimes we can help them grow by showing our support and providing the space they need to flourish as leaders. And we also have special people we know and cherish who teach us by the way that they live their values, if we are open to seeing and learning.

Have a great week.

More to come…

DJB

Update: Catherine Leonard provided her perspective on our visit in her June 9, 2019 blog on the INTO website.

Image: “Gas Cottage” on Lord Ashburton’s estate in Northington, where three generations of the Leonard family have called home. Photo by DJB.

Remembering D-Day

Published by DJB

Seventy-five years ago today, almost 160,000 troops from the United Kingdom, Canada, and the United States — including smaller contingents from Australia, Belgium, Czechoslovakia, Denmark, France, Greece, the Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway and Poland — invaded Nazi-occupied Europe on the beaches of Normandy. Over the next three months of fighting, 209,000 Allied troops would die before the Nazis were pushed back across the Seine.

June 6, 1944 — D-Day — should never be forgotten. It was a time when the countries of the world came together to combat bigotry, racism, and hatred. Many men and women made the ultimate sacrifice in that fight.

To be in Britain for the 75th anniversary is a reminder of our better natures. We began to see the remembrances of the anniversary as we stepped off the bus in the small Cotswald village of Chipping Campden last week. There, in the center of this beautiful High Street, was a small World War I memorial covered with poppies, the now almost-universal symbol of remembrance for those killed in war.

This week, we are staying with friends in Hampshire where American troops camped in preparation for the invasion. We enjoyed an evening of dining and opera at The Grange, a historic estate where on March 24, 1944, Prime Minister Winston Churchill and General Dwight Eisenhower met in the Picture Gallery (our venue for dinner) to discuss the invasion of Europe. Places here stand as living memorials to that fateful day.

Chipping Campden WWI memorial — The World War I Memorial, covered with poppies for the D-Day Anniversary, in Chipping Campden

The English lost an entire generation of young men in World War I. English cities were bombed night-after-night in 1940 and 1941 during the German campaign known as The Blitz in World War II. Their memories of the price of war and the price of the fight against hatred and bigotry remains closer to the surface than in the U.S., where our World War I memorials are sometimes forgotten or threatened with demolition and where so-called leaders wish the troops a “Happy Memorial Day” without understanding the gravity of the sacrifice we are honoring.

Michele Heller, whose father served at D-Day, has an op-ed in today’s Washington Post to help Americans remember what our parents generation was fighting against and how that contrasts with our current amnesia over the importance of leadership. She ends her remembrance of her father — a Jew who escaped Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia and eventually found safety in the United States, only to enlist two years later in the U.S. Army “to fight, as many immigrants still do, for their adopted country” — with the following:

“They all were war heroes — the captured, the killed, the wounded, the mentally maimed, the lucky survivors such as my dad — because of circumstance, not desire. They went to war because of what happened when xenophobia and demagoguery supplanted real leadership.”

Even with all their current troubles, the English clearly remember the sacrifice, and they keep that remembrance front and center. The U.K.’s primary day of remembrance for their war dead remains November 11th, when the armistice ending World War I was signed and went into effect on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918. This year, however, the countryside was filled with special honors and memorials in June, just in time for the 75th anniversary of one of the bloodiest days in history.

Remembrance for D-Day — Remembrances for D-Day in Chipping Campden

Memorials are about memory, which is an essential part of consciousness. Individual and collective memories, connecting over a continuum of time to create community and national identity, are at the heart of why we save old places — why old places matter.

Diane Barthel, writing in Historic Preservation: Collective Memory and Historical Identity, speaks about places where moments in personal history “become part of the flow of collective history. This collective history transcends individual experiences and lifetimes” and are very much tied to place.

The beaches and fields of Normandy certainly stand as reminders of what those who came before sacrificed for future generations. A simple memorial in the middle of a historic, thriving Cotswold High Street helps bring our individual and collective memories together. It helps us understand the price required to push back against bigotry, racism, and hatred.

With thanks for the sacrifice made by the men and women on D-Day. May we never forget, and may we be forever vigilant in fighting leaders who spawn hatred rather than condemn it.

More to come…

DJB

Image: Britain remembers its fallen troops on the 75th anniversary of D-Day: one of many flags along the streets in the Cotswold town of Moreton-in-Marsh

Our Country is Like a Really Old House

Published by DJB

With instant communication and connections, one can travel the globe and still face issues from home. We may try to block them out, but they come up in conversations in other countries. In feeds on social media. During sermons.* Even in a toy display in a store window!

Dog Hate Toys — Toys for pets in a Great Malvern (U.K.) store window

I’ve been reminded again during my travels that in today’s global world, there are many national issues with international ramifications.

Thomas Fingar — the Shorenstein APARC Fellow in the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies at Stanford University, former chairman of the National Intelligence Council, and former Assistant Secretary of State — lectured on the Japan / Korea / China / United States relationships during the Asian portion of my current trip. Fingar provided a realistic and sometimes sobering assessment of future difficulties (many self-inflicted) as we were visiting sites of great beauty and centuries-old history.

A few days later I arrived in the U.K. as Prime Minister Theresa May was resigning and the airways were filled with commentary (some from the current resident of the White House) about the future. In these conversations around the globe, I was reminded of the lack of historical understanding brought to many of our current political debates.

It was my own desire to consider the context of three issues very much on the front page as I left the country in early May — voter suppression, mass incarceration of people of color, and the reemergence of white supremacy as a political force — that led me to pack a copy of C. Vann Woodward’s The Strange Career of Jim Crow for this trip. Woodward’s 1955 classic has been cited by none other than The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. as “the historical Bible of the Civil Rights movement,” yet it had been decades since I’d read this seminal work. While Woodward himself had a somewhat perplexing journey in relation to that movement, his Strange Career of Jim Crow has stood the test of time as a landmark history that also made history. His major thesis — that segregation and overt bigotry were relatively recent developments of the 1890s and were not inevitable — had a tremendous impact on our understanding of the South since Reconstruction and the opportunities available to the country in the 1950s and 1960s. While subsequent editions had a sadder tone, the book nonetheless made a quiet yet insistent case that change was possible, even in the South of the mid-twentieth century.

In the preface to the first edition of the book, Woodward writes that “The twilight zone that lies between living memory and written history is one of the favorite breeding places of mythology.” We can see that myth-making today around questions such as immigration. But many times opinions are simply based — in Woodward’s assessment — on “shaky historical foundations or downright misinformation.”

The historian shows us that white supremacists on the rise today are using many of the same arguments and tactics as the Bourbon interests of the late-nineteenth century, which sought to keep Southerners divided and labor cheap. Tom Watson, the Georgia populist who later turned virulent racist, spoke to blacks and whites early in his career, saying: “You are made to hate each other because upon that hatred is rested the keystone of the arch of financial despotism which enslaves you both. You are deceived and blinded that you may not see how this race antagonism perpetuates a monetary system which beggars you both.” Also in line with today’s political climate, Woodward notes that in the 1890s, “The South’s adoption of extreme racism was due not so much to a conversion as it was to a relaxation of the opposition.” Again, history appears to repeat itself.

These various thoughts came together in my mind as I listened to a podcast from On Being with Isabel Wilkerson, the author of the exceptional The Warmth of Other Suns. Host Krista Tippet notes that Wilkerson’s book, published in 2010, is “a carrier of histories, stories, truths that help make sense of human and social challenges newly visible at the heart of our life together.” It is interesting that Wilkerson has also become “an unexpected voice on the enduring human drama of refugees and immigration,” having been “herself a product of one of the most under-reported stories of the 20th century which she chronicles — the exodus or Great Migration of 6 million African Americans from the south to the north of the United States.”

Wilkerson — like many thoughtful commentators today — notes that racism and bigotry continue to divide the country because we have not done the hard work to face and understand our past. I especially like the metaphor she employs:

“Well, it’s kind of reminded me that our country is like a really old house. I love old houses. I’ve always lived in old houses. But old houses need a lot of work. And the work is never done. And just when you think you’ve finished one renovation, it’s time to do something else. Something else has gone wrong.

And that’s what our country is like. And you may not want to go into that basement, but if you really don’t go into that basement, it’s at your own peril. And I think that whatever you are ignoring is not going to go away. Whatever you’re ignoring is only going to get worse. Whatever you’re ignoring will be there to be reckoned with until you reckon with it. And I think that that’s what we’re called upon to do where we are right now.”

We have not reckoned with the truths about our relationships in Asia and with the full impact of nuclear warfare. The United States seems committed to repeating horrible incidents from our racist past, rather than grapple with the core challenges in how our economic and government systems support racism. Moral leaders like The Rev. Dr. William J. Barber II point to those challenges as they write about the hypocrisy found in politicians who pass draconian anti-abortion bills in states like Alabama, “using the power they have gained by suppressing minority votes to signal that they are pro-life despite their opposition to living wages, health care, commonsense gun laws, and environmental protections. They are suppressing the vote because they know there is a new demographic in Alabama that if organized in fusion coalition can change the political electorate.” It is the same coalition that the Bourbons fought in the 1890s. Historians, like Woodward, have helped show that repeating the past is not inevitable. Change is possible.

As we begin another week where national and international unrest appears probable, perhaps it is time for us to call on our political leaders to follow Wilkerson, Barber, King, Woodward and many others into the country’s basement where we can all face our fears.

More to come…

DJB

*Seriously, the Archdeacon who spoke at St. David’s Church in Moreton-in-Marsh yesterday noted the state visit of the U.S. President. In typical understated, yet wicked, English style, his comment was, “The Queen is so excited.”

Image by Deedee86 from Pixabay

Japan by sea

Published by DJB

Donald Trump, you may have read, recently visited Japan. I also just wrapped up a tour of the Land of the Rising Sun. At the risk of being the target of a derisive tweet or internet trolls, it is fair to say that I had the better trip.

The two-week National Trust Tours exploration of Japan, with a focus on its coastal cities and sites, certainly broadened my mind. Not only were the people and places welcoming, but the sharing of perspectives from our guides, study tour lecturers, and fellow travelers enriched an already heady experience.

The World Heritage sites, such as Todai-ji Temple in Nara, the capital of Japan from 710-784 CE, were powerful and moving, especially as one found places away from the crowds to privately indulge in the architecture, gardens, and spiritual meaning of the spaces. More modern sites, such as Hiroshima, the Adachi Museum of Art and Gardens, and I.M. Pei’s Miho Museum, were also important touchstones for understanding parts of life in today’s Japan.

Kabuki Theatre detailing — Exterior detailing on the Uchiko-Za Kabuki Theatre

It was at the more out-of-the-way places, however, where I found the time and space to connect more deeply with the culture of our host nation. On Shikoku Island we traveled to the small traditional village of Uchiko to visit an exquisite, full-scale kabuki theatre, one of my favorite buildings from the entire tour. Similarly, Toko-ji in Hagi, a medieval center of Japan, was a large site where you could lose yourself among the hundreds of moss-covered stone lanterns guarding the graves of five Mori lords. The effect was sublime.

Toko-ji temple interior — Interior of the Toko-ji Temple

Toko-ji Lantern details — One of the many small coves in Toko-ji, where one could pause and reflect without the crowds

Another day took us to remote Sado Island, where we visited a center for traditional Japanese drumming and the weathered yet resilient Shukunegi fishing village. More than 100 traditional Edo-period houses line narrow streets, where the villagers live, work, worship, and play. It felt very much like a different culture from the hustle and bustle of the cities, yet the building forms—set cheek-by-jowl and using every bit of available space between sea and mountains—showed how the Japanese have had to value their land for centuries.

Typical lane through Shukunegi — Narrow lanes separate traditional houses in Shukunegi, a fishing village on Sado Island

A Shukunegi house, curved to fit the available land

Shukunegi street scene — Water, pathways, and homes all co-exist on a very small piece of Sado Island in Shukunegi

The spiritual is never far away in Japan, be it Buddhist temple or Shinto shrine. We were fortunate to see traditional and current practices in a variety of settings throughout the tour.

Daisho-in Temple, Miyajima — A Buddhist monk prays amidst the beautiful Daisho-in Temple in Miyajima

Itsukushima shrine — The famous gateway to the Itsukushima Shinto Shrine in Miyajima

Prayers at the Itsukushima shrine — Offering prayers at the Itsukushima shrine

Itsukushima View — View from the edge of the Itsukushima Shinto Shrine, with the vermillion torri that appears to float on the water at high tide, in the background

Buddhist statues at Toko-ji — Buddhist statues, decorated to offer prayers of protection for children and travelers, at Toko-ji in Hagi

One day we ventured to Gyeong Ju, South Korea, a World Heritage City. The royal tombs at Tumuli Park rivaled burial sites anywhere in the world. Dozens of mounds sit within beautiful gardens, and the few that have been excavated are wonderfully interpreted, both on site and at the Gyeong Ju National Museum.

Royal burial mounds in South Korea — Royal burial mounds in Tumuli Park, Gyeong Ju, South Korea

Royal burial site — Interpretation of a burial site in the royal burial grounds in Tumuli Park

Royal funeral jewels — Display of royal funeral jewels at the Gyeong Ju National Museum

We followed that morning visit with a tour of Bulguksa, one of the most beautiful Buddhist temples in Korea. We arrived during a festival season, so the lanterns and flowers added to the beauty of the landscape and buildings.

Bulguksa temple — Bulguksa Temple in Gyeong Ju, South Korea

Lanterns at Bulguksa Temple — Lanterns holding prayers from the faithful, hanging from the ceiling of a walkway at the Buddhist Bulguksa Temple near Gyeong Ju, South Korea

Bulguksa temple entrance — Entrance to one of the main temples at Bulguksa

Japan is a photographer’s delight, and I found so many wonderful details that caught the eye of the camera lens.

Hiroshima children's art — Children’s art created from origami doves at Hiroshima

Bulguksa Temple detail — Detail from the Bulguksa Temple in South Korea

Golden Pavilion garden — A peaceful section of garden at the Golden Pavilion

View of the Itsukushima Shinto Shrine Gate

Cover in fishing village — Cover for utility service in the historic Shukunegi Fishing Village on Sado Island

Tea ceremony sweet — Sweet for the tea ceremony in Kanazawa

Todai-ji detail — Detail from the Todai-ji Temple in Nara

Snow covered mountains near Otaru — Snow covered mountains in northern Japan, as we near the port of Otaru

Finally, one of the more delightful aspects of the trip was the myriad welcome and good-bye ceremonies from local residents at the smaller villages and cities. Each differed and was unique to the particular region. We were drummed away from Sado Island while we were enchanted with traditional dance in Korea. One of the most charming welcomes came when we drew alongside the dock in tiny Hagi and were met by a group of some 20 high school students who wanted to talk with us as a way to work on their English. Their curiosity—and their request to write our names in Japanese characters—made for a warm welcome. My “David” was relatively simple, but it became one of the most cherished take-aways from the entire trip.

My name in Japanese characters — “David” in Japanese characters

Travel expands the mind for those who choose to be present for the teachings. Beautiful thoughts of this ancient yet modern nation will certainly be rolling around in my head long after the specific memories begin to fade.

More to come…

DJB

Image: Buddhist statues, decorated to protect children and travelers, at Daisho-in Temple, Miyajima, Japan; photo by DJB

Life-long learners

Published by DJB

Some of the most interesting travelers are life-long learners.

While taking in the wonders of place, people, and culture on recent trips to Japan, South Korea, and the United Kingdom, I’ve spent time observing my fellow travelers. The reasons for travel vary widely. Some individuals finally have the time and resources to venture to new horizons while others are serious compilers—and completers—of bucket lists. The reasons are almost as endless as the people joining me in visiting the temples, shrines, gardens, mountains, priories, theatres, museums, and much more along the way.

Life-long learners take a special approach to travel, just as they do in life. They are curious, to be certain, but most are also risk takers. In The Leadership Machine, authors Michael Lombardo and Robert Eichinger suggest that learners are “willing to feel and look stupid” because they can admit what they don’t know and are eager to move forward to learn. In the working world they are often the ones willing to “go against the grain of what they know how to do and prefer to do” in order to get better and to learn new skills.

I prefer the description of life-long learners as “sense-makers.”

Among my fellow travelers, the life-long learners are easy to identify. They don’t speak up just to look smart. However, the objective and dispassionate questions they do raise are almost always the best ones on the topic. The life-long learners don’t dominate conversations, but instead seek first to understand before making pronouncements.

We all learn in different ways, yet experiences seem to be a key part of the career path of successful leaders. From my observations there are multiple ways in which experience teaches. Life-long learners revel in fresh challenges. They connect with people. Hardships don’t faze them, but instead seem to energize them. They enjoy life.

On this trip, we’re also honoring the learning journeys of our children. On a quick stop-over in the United States between the Asia and United Kingdom segments, we celebrated our daughter Claire’s graduation with a Masters in Social Work (MSW) from the University of California, Berkeley. By taking risks, going where she may not be comfortable, and empathizing with people on all levels, Claire has shown me how to work to make sense of life’s quirks, challenges, and opportunities.

CLaire graduation — Our wonderful Claire, now with her MSW degree from the University of California, Berkeley

Upon our arrival in London, we have had the opportunity to visit with our son Andrew—Claire’s twin—who is a masters student in vocal performance at the Royal College of Music. This is my first visit to London since Andrew moved here for his studies, so I wanted to tour the RCM buildings and get a picture of where he practices, researches, and performs on a regular basis.

Don Alfonso, Guglielmo and Ferrando (l-to-r) – in a 1950s setting of Cosi Fan Tutte – plot to test the faithfulness of their fiancés.

On Saturday we traveled to the wonderful English town of Great Malvern and the Elmslie House, where the Felici Opera Company—with Andrew in the role of Ferrando—performed a delightful English version set in the 1950s of Mozart’s Cosi Fan Tutte. We joined in the laughter at the antics of the two young men who agree to a clever ruse to test the faithfulness of their fiancés, while we were simultaneously thrilled at the exquisite melodies of Mozart. Like Claire, Andrew has shown me how to take risks and follow life’s passions.

Rooftops of Great Malvern — The rooftops of Great Malvern

Great Malvern view — Looking down at Great Malvern from the lower reaches of the Malvern Hills

The fact that the production was in Great Malvern was a special treat. Home or frequent haunt of some of England’s most accomplished composers, writers, and artists (Sir Edward Elgar, George Bernard Shaw, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien), the town, landscape, and Malvern Hills clearly inspired life-long learning and creativity in many who ventured here.

Asking questions with an openness to new ideas. Making sense of what we see by dispassionate and deep study. Inserting “punctuation marks” into our lives to ask “What have we learned this week about…?” All ensure that life simply doesn’t go by as we perform tasks, succeed or make mistakes . . . and learn nothing. As Lombardo and Eichinger put it:

“Everyone wants to know the secret of success, and there is one. It’s called continuously learning to do what you don’t know how to do.”

Have a good week.

More to come…

DJB

Image: Lanterns holding prayers from the faithful, hanging from the ceiling of a walkway at the Buddhist Bulguksa Temple near Gyeong Ju, South Korea

I.M. Pei, Rest in Peace

Published by DJB

Eight days before the revered architect I.M. Pei passed away at 102 years of age, I had the opportunity to visit one of his last—and more remote—commissions: the Miho Museum in Japan.

Standing amidst the Shiga mountains in a protected nature preserve, Pei’s Miho Museum, which opened in 1997, fits in well with the other modern yet very accessible works of this master who left an indelible mark on the world before his passing on May 16th of this year.

Pulitzer Prize-winning architectural historian and author Paul Goldberger wrote a lovely obituary for Pei in the New York Times, capturing the architect’s expansive work and spirit. When thinking of Pei, my mind naturally turns to the beautiful East Building of the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., a museum I’ve visited many times. One feature that always brings a smile to my face wasn’t exactly designed by Pei. Etched into the stone is a listing of all those who made the East Building possible—politicians, National Gallery leadership, architects, and more. At one point the beautiful Tennessee marble has turned a different color, the result of millions of visitors rubbing the name of I.M. Pei with their hands, wanting to connect physically and spiritually with the design that showed how a modernist could fit a masterpiece into the core of Washington’s monumental architecture.

While not as famous as the East Building, the glass pyramid at the Louvre, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, or other major works designed by Pei, the Miho Museum nonetheless struck me as impressive architecture that beautifully fit its site and unique program.*

Tunnel to Miho Museum — Mountain tunnel that leads visitors to the Miho Museum

After a slow ride up curvy mountain roads, one arrives at the Miho and its welcome center. From that point visitors approach the museum itself via a pedestrian tunnel cut through the mountain, giving a hint of the 75% of the museum spaces that Pei placed underground to maintain the look of the nature preserve.

Entrance to bridge — Emerging from the pedestrian tunnel to cross a beautiful bridge, with its first glimpse of the museum building

From the darkness of the tunnel the light draws you toward a cantilevered bridge and a first look at the museum building. I was there on a perfect spring day. The shift from darkness to light and beauty was as striking as it was intentional.

Entrance to Miho Museum — Entrance to the Miho Museum

Once inside the museum, Pei’s use of steel and glass for the ceilings and some exterior walls, balanced with warm French limestone for the interior spaces, takes over the experience. The extensive glass allows a sense of nature to move into the building, and also provides vistas which include an earlier bell tower Pei designed for the museum’s founder.

Interior view of the entrance hall — Interior view of the Miho Entrance Hall

Ceiling of Miho Museum — Interior view of the ceiling of I.M. Pei’s Miho Museum

View of the bell tower — View of the distant bell tower from the museum’s central hall

After almost two hours at this wonderful space, it was time to go. The trip back from the light into the tunnel meant you were leaving what Pei, upon first seeing the site, described as Shangri-La.

View of the bridge and tunnel — Looking back across the cantilevered bridge

I would have felt privileged to see this beautiful work of art at any point, but to have had the opportunity to be in Japan and to see the Miho Museum first-hand in the month of the master architect’s passing, was especially moving.

Rest in peace, I.M. Pei. Your work has graced the world we live in.

More to come…

DJB

*I’m not going to use this post to go into the somewhat mysterious—and perhaps questionable—practices in acquisition of the collection by the controversial founder of the museum, Mihoko Koyama, who is also the founder of Shumeikai, a new religious group that claims some 300,000 followers.

Image: Entrance to I.M. Pei’s Miho Museum by DJB

Children of the drum

Published by DJB

Two wooden sticks, a calf skin, and a hollowed-out tree trunk. Basics from nature. I never thought they could bring such primal fun, but that was before I spent a morning at Kodo’s Sado Island Taiko Center.

The recent National Trust Tours Japan by Sea trip led me on a Friday morning to remote Sado Island, the nation’s 6th largest island comprised of two parallel mountain ranges separated by a plain dotted with small rice farms. First known as a place of exile for intellectuals and political dissidents, it now boasts premium quality rice and sake. It also serves as the home base for the world-famous taiko drumming group, Kodo.

“Exploring the limitless possibilities of the traditional Japanese drum, the taiko, Kodo is forging new directions for a vibrant living art-form. In Japanese the word ‘Kodo’ conveys two meanings: Firstly, ‘heartbeat’, the primal source of all rhythm. Secondly, read in a different way, the word can mean ‘children of the drum’, a reflection of Kodo’s desire to play the drum simply, with the heart of a child.”

When we arrived at the beautiful Taiko Center, the first view of the drumming room took my breath away. One’s eye is drawn to many different features: the large glass windows inviting the lush Sado Island landscape inside, the circle of drums along the walls, the wood construction and cathedral ceiling that promise wonderful acoustic properties for the drumming, and—primarily—the two huge taiko drums that were hand-carved from a 600-year-old “keyaki” (Japanese Zelkova) tree by Kodo members. It is a sight that excites the senses.

Kado Center main drumming room — Kodo Center drumming room

We were warmly welcomed and given a history of the center and the Kodo Cultural Foundation, which is focused on social education and giving back to the local community. Kodo grew out of a 1970s concern that young people were leaving the island. Eventually Kodo was formed as a type of university for the study of traditional Japanese arts and crafts. More than 30 performing members, apprentices who undergo a two-year program, probationary junior members, and other supporters make up the community. One of the more exciting recent programs is an expansion of the use of taiko in promoting health, fitness and preventive care for disabilities through their “Exadon” program.

Our instructor for the day was a charming young woman who initially helped us with the appropriate stance behind each drum (legs spread apart, knees bent, stomach tucked in tightly) and the proper grip on the drumsticks (with a loose wrist). On the first few beats, our group was all over the place. But like a patient choirmaster, our instructor asked us to listen to each other and work as one. Soon the sound of the drums, beating in unison, was booming around the room, making the tops of the two huge taikos vibrate with sympathetic sound (similar to the lower strings on a harp guitar). The world was coming together as one. Then, picking up the pace, she laid aside her drumsticks in order to use two wooden blocks as a metronome. She had the group varying tempo, twirling between beats, and generally losing ourselves in the excitement of the sounds.

DJB drumming — DJB at work (and play) at Kodo (photo credit: Melissa Blunt)

For a brief time, we became the children of the drum. I cannot remember when I’ve had this much fun.

Our lesson completed, we were treated to a thrilling mini-concert on the largest of the taiko made from the keyaki tree. For the rest of the day, the group babbled in excitement. We’d been together almost two weeks, but it took those children’s toys to connect us at a different level.

A child of the drum (photo credit: Melissa Blunt)

We love our technology and what it makes possible today. But we also need to remember the basic things that make us human, helping us work together in community. We need to find ways to get to the heartbeat.

Have a good week.

More to come…
DJB

Image: Playing the huge taiko drum by DJB

Gardens and gardeners

Published by DJB

Linking the passions of America’s founding fathers with those of the ruling classes of Asia wasn’t on my agenda when I left for a two-week National Trust Tour of Japan and South Korea earlier this month. Sometimes serendipity just strikes.

It was pure chance that I began reading Andrea Wulf’s Founding Gardeners: The Revolutionary Generation, Nature, and the Shaping of the American Nation as I was leaving for my first trip to Asia. I was absorbed in her illuminating study of the passion for gardening, agriculture, and botany of Washington, Adams, Jefferson, and Madison—America’s best-known founding fathers—as I was entering a world where exquisite gardens were the obsession of Japan’s ruling class.

The juxtaposition was fascinating and delightful.

I became acquainted with Wulf through one of my favorite books, her 2015 work The Invention of Nature, with its description of how Alexander von Humboldt radically reshaped the way we thought of our relationship to the natural world. Founding Gardeners, written in 2011, isn’t as consistently strong, but is an enlightening read in its own right. These four gentlemen (plus Abigail Adams) tied the beauty and bounty of the American landscape to their concepts of liberty and the greatness of their new country. As expected, Thomas Jefferson was a recognized leader in this work, but the surprises here are more with the passions of George Washington, John and Abagail Adams, and James Madison.

In Wulf’s hands, Washington steps down from his perch as American deity to become a farmer (albeit one with slaves—more on that in a moment) with a real passion for the land and its bounty. She recounts how he takes time out every week during the most stressful periods of the revolution and subsequent governmental crisis to write out detailed instructions to his farm manager. Washington read widely in the agricultural and gardening works of the day and corresponded with like-minded individuals across states and oceans, sharing letters, books, seeds, and specimens. At Mount Vernon, he developed a garden that spoke to the vibrancy of the American landscape and experiment in self-government. Madison, likewise, took time from his extensive labor in shaping that government to learn and practice model farming techniques. In fact, Wulf makes the strong case that Madison was one of the first individuals to espouse the notion of conservation, long before Henry David Thoreau or George Perkins Marsh. In Madison’s Address to the Agricultural Society of Albemarle, our fourth president, “did not see nature through a romantic lens of transcendent beauty but as a fragile ecological system that could be easily destroyed by man.”

“In a world where many still believed that God had created plants and animals entirely for human benefit, Madison told the members of the Agricultural Society of Albemarle that nature was not ‘subservient’ to the use of man. Not everything could be appropriated, Madison said, for the ‘increase of the human part of the creation’—if it was, nature’s balance would collapse.”

My main quarrel with Wulf’s book is the consistent absence of the role of the enslaved population in the work of Washington, Jefferson, and Madison. Adams, of course, did not have slaves and his plot at Peacefield in Quincy was much smaller than the gardens of other three. While the enslaved population is mentioned, it is not always clear who was doing the work to take vision to reality. Washington seems to have taken a more direct physical role in the creation of his landscape than the cerebral Jefferson, for instance. More attention by Wulf to the building and care of the gardens by those slaves would have provided a more realistic context for the work and world of the southern founding fathers.

I finished up Founding Gardeners as our plane was touching down in Kyoto, Japan. As luck would have it, our first lecture on this study tour was a look at Japanese garden history by Dr. Michelle Damian. Quoting from a treatise on medieval Japanese garden design named Sakuteiki, Professor Damian highlighted influences on design such as Buddhism, nature (and reflection on memories of a wild nature), geometry (the shape of the land and the desire for balance), and taboos (especially the need to be aware of, and avoid, them). We followed that with tours in and near Kyoto of the gardens at the World Heritage sites Tenryu-ji temple and Kinkaku-ji (Golden Pavilion) temple. Both were stunningly beautiful and set the stage for our later visits to more remote locations along the coastline of the Inland Sea and the Japan Sea.

Two exceptional gardens—one quite modern and the other dating from 1676—dominated our visits in the second week of the tour.

The more modern work is at the Adachi Museum of Art, founded in the 1970s by Adachi Zenko and designed to include viewing gardens as well as a collection of modern and contemporary Japanese paintings, especially those of Yokoyama Taikan. Zenko felt an affinity between the works of Taikan and nature, so he constructed superb gardens which could be viewed as one walked through the museum. These gardens are set against the backdrop of the ubiquitous mountains that make up the Japanese landscape. Pulling art, garden, and landscape together made for an unforgettable experience.

Adachi Museum Gardens — Adachi Museum of Art Gardens, Japan

The following day our tour landed in Kanazawa, an artistic center that escaped bombing in World War II. The highlight was a visit to Kenrouku-en gardens. Kenroku means “combined six” referring to a renowned garden from the Sung-dynasty in China that required six attributes for perfection: seclusion, spaciousness, artificiality, antiquity, abundant water, and broad views. Construction began in 1676, and by the early 1880s it had matured to the beautiful garden seen today. The 25 acres comprises an entire city block.

Most of the gardens we visited in Japan were constructed under the direction of the ruling class, as were those at Mount Vernon, Peacefield, Monticello, and Montpelier. No matter the differences shaped by culture, landscape, and time—and recognizing the backbreaking work often produced by forced labor—these places nonetheless have matured to something that reaches millions of people from all walks of life. There is a peacefulness that comes from visiting these special places on opposite sides of the world. As Wulf describes the differences between the beautiful — which was applied to scenes or objects that were “small, smooth, delicate, and light” — and the sublime — associated with vast, often rugged landscapes — I couldn’t help but give thanks for the opportunity to become engrossed in both over the past two weeks.

More to come…
DJB

Image: Tensha-en Garden, Uwajima, Japan by DJB

In search of the worst case scenario

Published by DJB

I have only recently come to accept that I’ve spent my entire life as a worrywart.

This is hard to admit, because I worry what people will think of me if they know that I’ve lived a life of constant concern about what can go wrong. Knowing I dwell unduly on difficulty or troubles, will family, friends, and colleagues think less of me?

A quote attributed to Mark Twain (and recently repeated during a lecture I heard by a Zen Buddhist monk at Tenryu-ji Temple in Kyoto, Japan) gets at the heart of the issue:

“I have been through some terrible things in my life, some which actually happened.”

Until recently, I attributed my willingness to dwell on the worst case scenario to good planning. Having an advanced degree in planning led me to rationalize that I was simply trying to make sure things went well by gaming out all the things that could go wrong. But it was pointed out recently that perhaps I’ve taken that to extremes. I could tell I was driving others crazy with this approach to life, and I had to admit that I was driving myself crazy as well. After tossing and turning one night while every bad scenario possible raced through my head, I awoke (literally and figuratively) to the realization that most of those terrible things that have come up in my head through the years have never actually happened.

In considering mindfulness and living in the moment, I was fortunate to hear this presentation in Kyoto at Tenryu-ji Temple—a remarkable UNESCO World Heritage Site. Perhaps it resonated because Thomas, the monk, was an American who could speak from my cultural context. Thomas was an exchange student from the 1960s who came to Japan and never went back. When describing mindfulness and meditation, he said that several of his Trappist friends spoke about the “sacrament of the present moment.” A sacrament is something that gets you closer to what you define as the creator. He suggested that all thoughts in our head are either about the past or the future, yet we can only really connect with who and what we are in the present.

This fit very well with a cartoon a friend sent to me about worrying. A young lady is in her kitchen cooking and enjoying her favorite music, both things she really loves. Then she begins worrying: will the kids enjoy the meal, was the recipe a little sketchy, weren’t those vegetables starting to go bad? Three or four frames later she’s worked herself into a lather, and only then realizes that she hasn’t thought about cooking or the music—the things she really enjoys—for several moments.

Taking your mind off what you are doing in the present leads to worry and frustration. In his lecture Thomas suggested that if you find yourself in a line and are annoyed with the lack of movement forward (a common occurrence on a trip with 100 fellow travelers), step back and consider your thought process. I’ve tried that out multiple times and it has been helpful in moving back into the present.

As a lifetime worrywart, I’m not going to change overnight or on one trip. But being outside my normal routine is a good time to use different places and experiences to start. Perhaps those terrible things that aren’t going to happen to me in any event will begin to fade away.

Have a good week.

More to come…

DJB

Installment #3 in The Gap Year Chronicles

MORE TO COME…

Encounters, discoveries, and observations from the slow lane of life.

Latest Posts

History was all around me: PreserveCast podcast of my career in preservation (so far)

Don’t create followers, create more leaders

Remembering D-Day

Our Country is Like a Really Old House

Japan by sea

I.M. Pei, Rest in Peace

Children of the drum

Gardens and gardeners

In search of the worst case scenario