What defines a great piece of art? Is it the content? Is it the message? Or is it, perhaps, the dialogue it sparks?
I found myself confronted with this question after watching The Winston Machine at the New Diorama Theatre on Saturday evening. Decently acted, cleverly staged, but – something was missing.
I’m fully in favour of open-endings – I like being confronted with questions to which there is no definitive answer. But I also believe that a play raising more questions than it answers – and particularly if those questions pertain to the plot – is an unfinished play.
The difficulty with this sort of criticism is that it can always be explained away as the author’s intention. And while I don’t dispute that the confusion of the closing scenes could be interpreted as representative of the confusion in the character’s mind – and, indeed, the confusion of modern life – I take issue with the inconsistency of message.
Are we meant to sympathise with the effects of combat on the survivors? Are we meant to commiserate with the difficulties of choosing your life path? Are we being reminded of the perils of comparison? Are we dissecting familial relations? Romantic relations? Friendships?
And what’s Churchill got to do with it?
It was a fantastic experience. I enjoyed the performance, the discussions my husband and I had about our individual interpretations, and the offer of free pizza at the end. But even so, the conclusion didn’t feel satisfactory – which, come to think of it, is possibly a reflection of life itself.
This sounds like an exaggeration, but what I really mean is that The Marriage of Figaro was a resounding success. The public showed up in droves for Mozart’s masterpiece – the Royal Opera House was absolutely packed.
In other words, we’re back to sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, waiting in mile-long queues for the toilets, shuffling along for twenty minutes to leave the venue. It’s almost as if the pandemic never existed at all.
But honestly, I’m not surprised. Not only is The Marriage of Figaro deservedly one of the most popular operas of all time, but the Royal Opera House revived David McVicar’s staging for a spectacular show. The faithful period pieces, the beautiful sets, the (random) appearance of an English Springer Spaniel on stage – it was a delight from start to finish.
What’s interesting to me is what stands out in different interpretations of the same opera. At the very beginning of the pandemic, I watched a stream of Glyndebourne’s 2012 production, which transported the action of The Marriage of Figaro into the swinging sixties.
The principal characters were charming (and Count Almaviva appropriately sleazy), but none held a candle to Isabel Leonard’s Cherubino. She was simply irresistible in the role – expressive, with a gorgeous mezzo-soprano. In the Royal Opera House’s version, meanwhile, I was enthralled by Susanna and Countess Almaviva, both of whom gave stunning solos and combined their strengths for an unforgettable duet.
Though The Marriage of Figaro at The Royal Opera House has now ended, the good news is that Glyndebourne is planning another staging for their 2022 season! I’m desperate to get tickets – fingers crossed that in a few months’ time, I will be sharing yet another review, this time from a visit to one of the world’s most famous opera festivals!
Given that I work for a crypto-friendly business in a product role, it would only make sense to fully immerse myself in the industry. Over the past few months, I’ve read countless articles, bought altcoins in various platforms, opened non-custodial wallets, and staked tokens for passive income. But NFTs continued to elude me.
I had previously worked with an NFT marketplace to create corporate branded NFTs and was meant to receive one at the conclusion of the contest we were running, but when it failed to arrive in my account, I didn’t follow up and didn’t try again until this week. But now, armed with a MetaMask wallet and roughly £100 in ETH, I commenced my quest to purchase a CryptoKitty.
Spoiler alert: I failed.
I had initially heard of CryptoKitties a few years ago when they were all the hype – but even though I was intrigued then, I didn’t make the plunge. Shame. I thought I could make up for it now, so I set out to find the cutest cat under £80, figuring I’d need at least £20 for gas fees.
Ah, how naïve. Either I was doing something wrong or congestion was off the charts, but I was looking at a price tag of several thousand – £80 for a Dali-esque feline, £6000 in gas fees. No CryptoKitty for me.
But then I noticed that OpenSea offers support for other blockchains. So I transferred the existing ETH from MetaMask to my Wirex account, losing about £15 in gas fees, but hoping to eventually make it up by opening an ETH X-Account.
I bought £30 of ETH on Polygon via Moonpay, which was a bit of a nightmare, because not only were they taking more than 10% in fees, but the first transaction failed outright and I ended up waiting hours for the second to go through.
As soon as I had the money, I went shopping! I encountered the concept of free airdrops, which, frankly, I still don’t understand – I think I ordered one, but then it disappeared out of my account, so I can’t be sure. But, on the bright side, I did find art I liked.
I can now proudly proclaim myself the owner of not one, but two NFTs – one from the Women of Collection and one Super Kitty.
I’m super excited, of course, but if this several-days-long experience has taught me anything, it’s that we’re still facing substantial barriers to widespread adoption. High costs, long wait times, and a bumpy customer journey – I can definitely see why so many companies, mine included, are making it their mission to simplify crypto for the mainstream consumer.
In the middle of the pandemic, Ryanair quietly resumed flights to Finland. Having stumbled across £10 return flights to Tampere, I booked dates in January without thinking. Unfortunately, two weeks or so later, Ryanair informed me that our flights had been cancelled.
I had already booked the required tests – and, since Covid requirements kept changing, this meant one for before, one for during, and one for after. Not to mention, Ryanair being Ryanair made it next to impossible to get a refund. So I rebooked for Helsinki.
This came with additional complications. Since the flight landed late, we’d need to stay a night in Helsinki before catching the train up north. Second, since the flight back also landed late, we’d need to park our car at the airport. And, finally, we’d need to find someone to look after the dog.
It felt like a monumental task and I came close to calling the whole thing off several times. Still, we persevered – as our reward, we enjoyed three blissful days by the frozen shores of Lake Päijänne.
As the saying goes, when in Finland, do as the Finns do. Meaning we indulged in lots of skiing – skiing on the lake, skiing in the woods, skiing on the streets, skiing everywhere. Followed by – what else? – sauna.
One of the days was spent cycling up and down icy roads on “fat bikes”. This was a completely new experience for me – thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. Especially when racing down a steep hill at 35km/h, hitting an icy patch and feeling the bike beginning to wobble beneath you.
We also warmed ourselves by the fire, watched the colourful birds of Finnish winter (woodpeckers, bullfinches, blue tits, oh my!), and had a go at baking joulutorttu (Christmas pastries). Even though three days passed far too quickly, it finally, finally, felt like a proper holiday.
As a fairly recent entrant into the product management profession, I’m only just immersing myself in the community. Beyond studying the practical tenets of the discipline, such as the Agile framework, SCRUM methodology, Kanban, etc., I’ve also began digging deeper into the history and culture.
And, like with anything on the internet, sometimes you fall into a wormhole with unexpected results. Given that he is a top PM influencer, it’s probably not that unexpected that I would come across Lenny’s Newsletter, but what is notable is that his article about how to get into product management has inspired me to share my story.
Credit: Unsplash
I got my first office job as a DMCA Agent back in 2010. Since then, I tried my hand at everything from academia to media auditing, eventually finding myself slowly building a marketing career from roughly 2014 onwards. As with any job, there were things I loved, such as web analytics, and tasks I would’ve preferred to avoid, namely pitching PR stories.
When I joined my current company, it was to coordinate cross-channel marketing campaigns and product launches. As a marketing project manager, I ensured alignment across both the marketing team and the wider company, co-hosting a monthly strategy meeting with senior stakeholders.
When I was tasked to launch our newest crypto-enabled card offering, I began working a lot more closely with the tech team, not to mention the legal, compliance, operations, and support teams. I was also in regular communication with the partner, integrating additional features, such as rewards and charitable promotions.
This was a different world to marketing. I was shaping the very product our company provides, and I was hooked. At the next opportunity, I spoke to my manager about switching allegiances and moving over to the product team. I can’t be more grateful that both he and the Head of Product saw my potential and facilitated the move.
All this in just over six months. I firmly believe that success is a mindset. It’s about building a breadth of knowledge and becoming, in the words my favourite business author, Cal Newport (co-opted from comedian Steve Martin), “so good they can’t ignore you”.
Furthermore, my own experience suggests that it’s not only about nurturing expertise in one specific subject, but also transferring a broad range of skills developed across multiple industries to reach what theoretical biologist Stuart Kauffman terms the “adjacent possible” – and that, that is where true innovation is born.
So if you’re looking to make the change, build yourself a career progression plan. There are so many great resources out there, from paid courses to free courses, from books to blogs, from Youtubers to Twitter influencers. Read as much as you can, but never forget to build the relationships that will help get you to where you want to be.
It’s been so long since I’ve seen a play. I think the last one was Pride and Prejudice* (*sort of)back in October, but for someone who, before the pandemic, used to go to the theatre regularly (sometimes even twice in one day), it was an almost unbearable gap.
So yesterday, we risked leaving the puppy home alone for longer than two hours and set off to Bush Theatre to watch the acclaimed Fair Play, a “gripping exploration of the friendship of two young women who bond over a love of running”.
But, spoiler alert, that wasn’t all the play was about.
We’re immediately introduced to Ann and Sophie – the former an up-and-coming talent, the latter an established competitor. They act as typical teenage girls, talking about everything from their passion for running and their dreams for the future to parents, school, religion, boys, and sex.
Ann’s career is rising, but suddenly, she’s disqualified from the Worlds for too much testosterone, and the play takes on a much more serious tone. Reminiscent of high profile cases such as Caster Semenya’s, the discussion turns to preconceived notions of what’s fair in elite sport – and the sexist, racist undertones that define them.
Sophie acts as the foil, unaware of her privilege as a conventionally attractive, middle class white woman and admittedly “relieved” that there was an explanation for why Ann was outpacing her despite working to the same training plan. Ann is justifiably furious, challenging Sophie on the arbitrary distinctions of womanhood that exclude predominantly women of colour.
I didn’t know what to expect, but I knew it was going to be good – and I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve always been a fan of plays that feature only one or two actors, because it’s much more intimate, and I feel a deeper connection to the story.
Fair Play stayed with me long after we left the theatre, thinking of the symbolism. I commend the screenwriter Ella Road for not giving in to the temptation to end the play with reconciliation between the two main characters – its ambiguous ending reminds us that, like in real life, human emotions are nuanced, and psychological wounds can’t always be solved with an apology.
Fair Play is running until 22 January at Bush Theatre.
It depends on our individual interests. We’re all multi-faceted people. Some musings will resonate with a wider audience, while others will bring joy to a select few.
But the real reason any of us write is for ourselves. That being said, it doesn’t mean we can’t endow our writing with purpose.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the direction I want this blog to take. I’ve considered whether it’s too frivolous, whether it has a silly name, whether I should be more professional.
Credit: Unsplash
But then two things happened. First, I started watching Colours of Chloe, where Chloe Shih not only shares her product management experience, but delves into gaming, travel, and other personal interests.
I also started reading a book I’ve wanted to read for a long time – The Authority Gap by Mary Ann Seighart, which talks about the discrimination women face on the basis of our gender and how hard we must work to be taken seriously.
The former showed me that it’s possible to make a genuine difference while remaining true to yourself, while the latter encouraged me to do something about issues that matter.
I’ve always been wary of disclosing too much, but this is something I can’t stay quiet about.
Every woman has experienced gender discrimination. From catcalling to unwelcome advances – or worse – we’ve almost grown accustomed to harassment. But in the workplace, it’s much more covert and therefore insidious.
It’s being talked over in meetings, it’s being passed over for promotions, it’s having our input dismissed, it’s having male colleagues take credit for our ideas, it’s being expected to make the tea – in short, it’s being held to different standards. And to add insult to injury, it’s not being believed when we speak up.
I don’t usually share negative experiences. A lot of the reasons for this are identified in Seighart’s book – after all, women are conditioned to be positive, to defer to men, to avoid causing problems.
But if we perpetuate this silence, how will anything change? And that’s why my role models are the women who aren’t afraid to speak up and share their stories. Women who do take issue with something as “minor” as a LinkedIn poll by an influential investor not mentioning any female entrepreneurs.
And it’s facing our fears and possible repercussions to share our own experiences, not only to close friends, but publicly to the wider world. Like the incident I had with a former manager, who, despite being an incredibly verbose man, had the audacity to tell female subordinates that they aren’t concise enough in meetings (all the while repeatedly wondering why no one speaks up).
The only way forward is to keep sharing our stories, working collaboratively towards equality, and making individual decisions for the common good. One of the things that stuck with me from Chloe’s videos is that she interviews prospective employers as much as they do her – if they don’t have a diverse management team, she’s not interested. Of course, we don’t all have the same luxury, but it’s something to be mindful of for the future.
The situation is already better than it was fifty, twenty, even ten years ago, and that’s thanks to the women who came before us, who weren’t afraid to risk their jobs or reputations to draw attention to what is truly important. And if we keep it up, there’s hope that we’ll achieve global gender equality within this century.
As the festivities of the last few weeks make way for a new start, I want to reminisce about the last trip we took in 2021. After Christmas, I found myself restless. Even though the days were dark and dreary, I wanted one last adventure. So we packed up our bags for one night away, and set out for the West coast early on the morning of the 27th.
We arrived in our destination of Ilfracombe by midday, just in time for the rain to cease and the sun to come out. Stocking up on a few snacks, we headed for the coastal path. The cliffs were stunning – and, best of all for two Londoners and their dog, it was almost entirely devoid of people.
Unfortunately, it soon started to get dark, and as we turned back, the wind and rain returned. Still, we didn’t let it dampen our spirits, and we made our way to The Royal Britannia pub, where we’d booked accommodation. As there weren’t many visitors, we were even upgraded to a sea view suite.
Feeling energised, we quickly changed and made our way to the pub downstairs. Dinner would only be served in an hour, so we got two pints, settled near the fireplace, and made small talk with the locals. It was the sort of comfort hard to find in London – warm, relaxing, unassuming.
Staying the night was another story. The dog wouldn’t stop whining, so we had to take him out a few times into the pouring rain. We only got to sleep at midnight, hoping his occasional barks weren’t disturbing any other guests.
Still, the previous day had more than made up for it, so we were keen to start our next adventure the following morning. Unfortunately, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. We decided to brave it, driving out to a nearby cape, but the wind and relentless hail chased us back to the car within half an hour.
And so we made the long way back to London, glad for the short change of scenery. Sometimes, it makes all the difference.
Swordfoosh 