The art of sci-fi supercharged the stories of sci-fi. There were so many elements of the worlds described by authors that needed visual fuel. To describe an elongated, dark colored spaceship with jagged edges produces a hundred images in people’s minds and zero images in hundreds more. But that the ship was somehow not menacing, was important. So the gestural paintings made by one prolific artist told the story. Now I could carry that image into the story and focus on other things.

Meanwhile the other really motivating thing about these images was their tangibility. An astronaut in the foreground, precisely like the father figure in the foreground of an ad. In the former, the astronaut looks forward to cruising over to the moon base. In the latter, the dad is smoking a pipe. Both had the same effect. Whether you wanted to go to the moon or smoke a pipe, you could envision it. It could be you. This was not only possible, but permissible. The medium was not the message. The Message was the message: this is what’s coming for you. You can have this. Effective trick really.

But it was a trick.

Useful for my mind as a youngster because I could imagine participating in that future. It was a visual feast of places I wanted to go. And at one time I thoroughly believed I would go. The year 2000 was going to be magical. not only could you visit Europe, you could visit the space station on Pan Am and just watch the stars or play in a zero-g spa. There was a fantastical life ahead animating a young mind.

The pictures and the stories, always fused with possibility and invitation. I too could join. I too could be a part of that. I had no idea how or when. Didn’t matter. It was simply true, going to happen. When the Playboy cover art did the same thing, I acted the same way. That too was possible, permissible and I had an invitation.

So when things didn’t work out, what then? Pan Am went bankrupt and folded. The space station will fall from the sky in the next few years replaced by nothing. The moon is stupid harsh and it will be millennia before we make a durable place for children frolicking in the agri-domes. Your social activities within your social circle will not automatically include delicious sex at any time. What kind of society am I a part of? What is the dream? Forget the dream. What is the reality? And should dreams be abandoned?

This is a great deal to swallow for an architect.

I am used to transforming a location from one vast configuration to another. I make “dreams” happen. But it is the quality of the dreams, it is the quality of the interactions between participants, that makes me, well, want to vomit a little.

I am clear, sober, that the dreams should be tempered by what is possible with resources obtainable. Obtanium is the material of choice as long as you can pay the price.

So planting a vibrant garden, building a shed, or stripping down and rebuilding some rooms are all obtainable. I can do these things.

So what is holding me back?

Doing them alone. Or worse, having partners who indulge me but don’t share the enthusiasm. And it’s not that I need them to be as enthusiastic about the tasks themselves. It’s the outcome. It’s about rolling through the challenges together. Without that shared enthusiasm and affinity for the outcomes the process for getting there is awkward as fuck. Because part of the dream, part of what I want, is to realize shared dreams.

I knew, even as a kid, that the dad in the ad was happy not because of the pipe, or the tobacco, or the haircut or the sweater-vest. But because he was part of a close knit group going for a common future with equal enthusiasm. He cut a figure in the minds of his community. His appearance was consistent with someone who was looking forward to sharing himself with others. The world outside our bubble was genuine and could be found in every playground, storefront, school hall.

Until it wasn’t.

So. Now I go see “cool” things. by myself if need be. My appetite for fulfilling my enthusiasms at the expense of another’s enthusiasm doesn’t sit well. Like a bone in the throat.

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Footnotes

1. Artwork by John Berkey. More here …
2. On bringing forth visions, see the Radio Pacifca article Beautiful Lies, or Why Art Is Essential for Engineers