Open up your mind and say, ahh...

Five months ago, WXY Architecture + Urban Design’s plan to transform a four-mile-stretch of the East River into public parkland was a commendable story about the city’s changing public park systems. Today, in the wake of Hurricane Sandy, their East River Blueway is a critical project, a model for how New York will plan for a future wracked by mega-storms and rising tides.

WXY began work on the Blueway design back in 2011, the same year Mayor Bloomberg unveiled a sweeping plan to transform 500 miles of deindustrialized New York coastline into parkland. Backed by local community groups and Manhattan Borough President Scott Stringer, the Blueway calls for the creation of a winding green thread of beaches, wetlands, and pedestrian bridges and paths that hug Manhattan’s eastern edge, a notoriously pedestrian-unfriendly stretch of land that’s overshadowed by the Brooklyn Bridge, Williamsburg Bridge, and FDR Drive at different moments. “The Blueway really puts the emphasis on the approach from the water,” WXY Principal Claire Weisz told me over the phone. “The design examines the environmental and social value of the East River to communities along the waterfront.” The project’s tagline? “River to the people.”

The challenge with transforming this tricky sliver of land into usable public space is twofold. Even on a clear day, the East River is finicky and fast–not an ideal body of water for public use. And when it floods, it rises rapidly and without much warning, putting nearby housing developments in danger. The solution to both issues deals with what Weisz describes as “soft edges,” a term that refers to design elements that can slow the river’s currents and withstand powerful storm surges. On the Blueway, soft edges come in the form of salt-resistant marshlands, sandy beaches, and bulkheads that reduce wave action. A series of tidal pools will keep kids away from the rapid currents while keeping surges at bay during storms.

The Blueway will cost millions of dollars and take several years to get under way, but as Weisz noted, Hurricane Sandy has served as a wake-up call both for New Yorkers and their city government–on February 7, Stringer pledged $3.5 million to the project. “Sandy made it possible to explain the things we feel need to happen, like soft edges and reducing wave action, that deal with protecting neighborhoods but also help to mitigate storm damage,” Weisz added. “The social side of infrastructure is becoming more and more urgent as our infrastructure gets more dilapidated and our climate gets more erratic.”

The time is nigh for foot-powered washing machines. Though the concept has been explored before, two recent projects are garnering attention for their real-world feasibility in alleviating the struggles associated with laundry in regions without easy access to electricity or running water. GiraDora, created by a pair of Art Center College of Design students, is receiving accolades, and Philadelphia University industrial design students Eliot Coven and Aaron Stathum have concurrently developed a similar product with a different approach; Up-Stream is an analog appliance built around the ubiquity of five-gallon buckets, allowing users to adapt the piece with materials from their region.

The way it works is quite simple: leg strength agitates loads within the vessel, then that same motion–on the same unit–is used to spin the excess moisture out. Coven and Stathum worked with a goal of making Up-Stream as accessible as possible, and as a result, the framework can be customized with indigenous, recycled, or found component parts. “We see the bucket as the common object. But the metal pipes could be replaced with bamboo shoots, for instance. By making it so DIY-centric, people everywhere can use their available resources, but also use their own personal ingenuity and creativity,” they tell Co.Design. “We hope to lay the groundwork for washing and that people will continue to design this object to fit their needs.”

Each durable five gallon bucket can hold about five articles of clothing, and needs only a touch of powdered detergent, or even a bar of soap; a single load takes about 20 minutes from start to finish (not counting drying time). In lieu of a traditional scrub board, which breaks down textile fibers quickly and causes premature wear-and-tear, Coven and Stathum conceived a neoprene sleeve that provides means for spot cleaning. Location was also a consideration. “Many people clean directly in the rivers, contaminating the water for everyone downstream; we isolated this problem by moving Up-Stream on to land,” they say. The duo are looking into a Kickstarter campaign to fund targeted testing and further development, and hope to see the backbreaking task of laundry become a thing of the past.

(H/T Inhabitat)

When I write a post like yesterday’s about my experience staying at The Port Royal Resort, there are invariably some people who voice concern and dismay. Some rattle their swords and say that I’ve sold out. Others say that I’m disingenuous (a word I evidently can’t spell, so thanks squiggly line gods). Still others just don’t know what to think, because it’s not a straightforward post about business or marketing. It’s what amounted to a trip report on a few days away from such matters.

There’s a whole “to do” about what is or isn’t okay with “influencer marketing.” In a nutshell, the concept behind this type of marketing is that if you (the company) give your product or service to someone who has an audience of some size and value, that you’ll stand to benefit from the association. But that’s the straightforward intent. I’ll get back to that in a moment. Let me talk about how it gets tricky quickly.

Blogs and Social Networks are the Battleground of This Mess

One challenge is that blogs and social networks have no implied or explicit rules about how such interactions should be handled, and people are forced to presume and assume far more often than not. In the US, the Federal Trade Commission published guidelines around this kind of interaction, but they’re dodgy and people interpret them differently.

The way I’ve handled such matters here on chrisbrogan.com has been relatively consistent over time. If there’s a reason why I might be biased or otherwise have some explicit and obvious reason to express something, I disclose it. If I sell something, for instance, I put (affiliate) or (affiliate link) after the link where I’m selling. (Sometimes, if I have lots of affiliate links in the same post, I might blanket explain that.) I also have a very robust about page that explains my potential biases even more.

But sometimes, people don’t go to that effort. Sometimes, they just promote a product or a service or something where they have the chance to directly gain from an interaction, and they choose not to disclose (or they omit) that relationship.

And at other times, people don’t see a disclosure, but still worry that a piece of writing or a tweet or whatever might be biased, and so they don’t take any action for fear that they’re being sold, but without any disclosure. Still another whole chunk of the web has no idea any of this is going on and they just click through because others haven’t explained that these kinds of relationships could exist.

Me? I’m a big fan of disclosure. In yesterday’s post, for example, I wrote this:

(For those who ask such things: we received free lodging, and Cheryl in the gift shop gave us both a nice hat, but otherwise, this isn’t a paid piece. I’m just writing about a very nice stay.)

Danny Brown and I have talked about disclosure in the past (not so much directly, but in dueling posts and tweets and the likes. ( Here’s a sample of such.)

Danny’s more stringent about disclosure than me, even, and I applaud that. I believe that comes from a PR and journalistic background, though I’m not sure. I just know that he feels strongly about it, and if ever I seem to be out of alignment with his perspective, he lets me know. That’s why I figured I’d write this post, to refresh my thoughts, and/or to hear what else Danny and you have to say.

Disclosure and Influencer Marketing

I’ve written about disclosure at least a few times in the past few years. I think that if we’re going to honor our community and create material that is of value, we must be clear in explaining when we want to express any material reasons to knock a few points off our stated experience.

What’s In It For the Company Who Engages in Influencer Marketing?

A few years ago, I was part of a paid post experience led by IZEA in support of KMART. It was met with some very harsh views by my fellow bloggers and media makers. People were decrying my end, the fall of me as a “brand,” and that I had sold out.

Meanwhile, from the perspective of KMART and IZEA, the project was a success. Sales went up. The brand got a second look from a bunch of people, and except for people who continued to think I was now the anti-Chris for having conducted an experiment in marketing on a – gasp – marketing blog, life went on. By the way, here’s how I responded to the pitchforks back then.

But again, this segment of this blog post is asking what the company gets from influencer marketing. Most times, they are seeking two rewards: some attention from the “influencer’s” audience, and some brand-sharing from the person’s endorsement of their product or service. It’s a challenging territory for companies to explore, and it’s also a bit complex to manage for those people who choose to associate themselves with a brand. I wrote about it in the February 2012 SUCCESS Magazine cover article about celebrity marketing.

But Who Are the Influencers, Anyway?

In inviting me down to their resort and paying my lodging for my stay (I paid for airfare, food, etc), the Port Royal Resort was dipping their toe into the water of seeing what comes of inviting bloggers and the new media publishers of this world into their fold. They picked me, I would imagine, the way others have: they know that I reach a bunch of intelligent people, and they know that I value my reputation. The two together means that if I’m to say something nice about their organization (and the general Texas Gulf area), then I probably mean it.

More accurately, I’m sure they’d love it if my post tips someone’s interest from “hadn’t even considered it” to “I’d seriously put this place in my potential categories for my next trip or event or whatever.”

Who are the influencers? Is it me? Sometimes. Is it you? Often. It’s fluid. For instance, anything Dave Thomas likes in music on Spotify, I’m bound to check out and eventually purchase. Likewise, if Steve Garfield or C.C. Chapman blog about some new photography product a company’s given them to try, I’m going to give it consideration.

I’m asked all the time why I don’t much like Klout. It’s because I think the platform is flawed in how they determine influence. They measure chatter. If I tweet a link about some product in a category, and a lot of people retweet it or the like, it counts as influence. (This is the least accurate portrayal of Klout ever. Read Return On Influence (amazon affiliate link) by Mark Schaefer for a much better one).

Instead, I think you determine who’s influential. You’re going to read my post about Port Royal and think one of several things:

• I’m not interested in where Chris and Jacq took a few days off.
• I like Chris, but I could care less. In fact, I live in India.
• I was thinking about a place for next month’s vacation, so maybe I’ll look.
• I’m a rabid Chris Brogan fan and even have his action figure, and I’m buying a condo there tomorrow.
• Whatever. How do I get more followers on Twitter?

But you determine that. No level of my chit chat will somehow mind-meld you into my slave. And even if it did, I don’t stand to gain anything if you visit that resort. Though my opinion on some products or services might grant you a favorable consideration, you still make the ultimate decision, don’t you?

Just because I was invited to check out the Disney Dream a while back, it didn’t mean that people rushed the ships and booked them solid for years to come. Because you decide what you want to do with influence.

I Will Continue to Accept and Appreciate Interesting Experiences

In the past, my relationship with you and with companies has come together to let me enjoy some really interesting experiences. I toured Maker’s Mark headquarters with Jason Falls. I have spent time learning about USA Today and got to drive a bunch of cool cars at GM Headquarters (which led ME to buy a 2010 Chevy Camaro SS, so maybe GM was the influencer).

I have dozens more experiences like this. My last handful of years have been filled with exciting chances to go behind the scenes somewhere and enjoy sharing them with you. That won’t be stopping any time soon. Whenever I’m invited to explore something interesting, I’ll share it with you.

I’ll let you decide whether or not you want to be influenced by it.

I once killed a plant in less than 24 hours. Bought it on the hottest day of the year, took it home, left it out on my fire escape–plants need sun, right?–then woke the next day to a yellowed, shriveled wisp of a thing that looked like it’d been thrown in a deep fryer. As gardening ineptitude goes, that has to be a record.

Koubachi, an app-based plant growing system by alumni of technical universities in Switzerland and Germany, is something approaching a godsend for dummies like me. Using a Wi-Fi sensor and an iPhone app, it lets plants talk to their owners–to share how much light they need, when they’re thirsty, and even how hot the water should be.

Here’s how it works: Choose your plant from the Koubachi’s “plant cyclopedia,” then insert the sensor, a Red Dot-award-winning gadget that resembles some kind of Jetsonian meat thermometer, into the plant’s soil. After an initial calibration period, the app draws up a care plan based on biologist-developed growing models that consider everything from the plant’s species and water cycling to the climate and growing season.

From there, it’s super easy: The sensor monitors soil moisture, ambient temperature, and light, then checks those metrics against your plant’s needs and alerts your iPhone (or web) app when it’s feeding or watering time. You don’t have to check your plants at all, just your phone (which you do every 2 minutes anyway).

The catch: The sensor costs 129 Swiss francs (about $140) online. That’s awfully steep, unless you’ve got a greenhouse full of ghost orchids or something.

Koubachi says on its website that a single sensor can be used to monitor multiple plants (once the app gathers enough information about your plant, it can basically operate on autopilot). You can also use the app by itself, for free; it includes the care plan and alerts, but doesn’t monitor growing conditions in real time, so it’s not quite as accurate. Still, it’s smart enough to know not to leave ivy on a fire escape in the middle of July.

Images courtesy of Koubachi

In 1953, Joseph Stalin signed the plans for a top-secret nuclear submarine base that would become the operational home for the fearsome Soviet Black Sea Fleet.

Hidden inside the base of a mountain in the port town of Balaklava on Ukraine’s Crimean coast, the 15,300 square-foot facility took nine years to build and its entrance camouflaged from spy planes. It could survive a direct nuclear hit and at maximum capacity could hold 3,000 people with supplies to sustain them for a month. Best of all, the vast subs that slunk in and out of here between tours of duty could enter and leave underwater, keeping them from prying eyes at all times.

Once the most sensitive and secretive of Soviet Cold War hotspots, today it is preserved as a museum. I manage to get special permission to drive into the base during the 8,000-mile Land Rover Journey of Discovery expedition to Beijing. We were the first to do so since the Soviet trucks and trailers that ferried in missiles, supplies and essentials over its 40 years of operation.

Driving through the cavernous entrance carved into the heavy rock of the mountain was pure James Bond, but the base that unfolded inside was a hard-hitting mix of superspy fantasy and the coarse reality of the Cold War world in which it played a key part.

The local guide explained how the facility was split into two clear sections on either side of the huge submarine channel that ran through the center, one side used for the operational running of the base and the other for arming the nuclear warheads. Then she dropped a bombshell of her own.

She had worked on the operational side of the base for five years with level-two security clearance — just one step below the highest possible — yet in all her time at the facility she had never known the nuclear side existed. She was only made aware of it when she began guiding tours here years later.

As she puts it: “It was in our culture then not to ask about what didn’t concern us. A common saying at the time was, ‘The less you know, the better you sleep.’”

Not only was this place so secretive that even its own employees were kept in the dark, every possible measure was taken to keep its existence unknown to the outside world. This included removing Balaklava from all maps in 1957 (it would be 1992 before it reared its head again) and employees’ family members from neighboring Sevastopol — itself a closed city that needed heavy security clearance to access — were put through extensive vetting before visits to loved ones were allowed.

Inside the base we first toured the operational side, working our way through the broad network of tunnels until we came to the dry dock, so large that it was capable of holding a 300-foot submarine.

Beside the dry dock was the huge submarine channel, with space for six such subs end to end. Curved to deflect any blast inside the base, the channel is lined with steel gangways above head height. It provides a fearsome environment, with a hulking sub sitting in the black water and the loud echoes of urgent footfalls, the clanking of tools, and the humming of generators.

Crossing to the other side of the base became even more interesting. Here even the tunnels making up the connecting network were curved for blast protection, as this was where the missiles were armed.

We saw the cabinet where the radioactive parts of the weapons were stored. Now empty, its massive steel roller door sits ajar just as it was left when the lethal payload it once concealed was taken by Soviet authorities.

Even the tunnels making up the connecting network were curved for blast protection.

Finally, we came to the epicenter of this underground lair, the room that stored the armed missiles. It looks innocuous now, but to imagine this place primed with as many as 50 nuclear devices left a sobering scent in the air.

As a final unusual touch, our guide pointed out a simple-looking plastic mount, similar to a small patio light, attached to the wall of the room and holding a solitary human hair. This most basic of devices monitored the humidity in the room, which had to be critically maintained at 60 percent — deviation either way could have resulted in an explosion large enough to destroy the entire base, not to mention the mountain that housed it and much of the surrounding area. If the hair began bending, that was the engineers’ cue to adjust the ventilation, and quickly.

Rolling back out into the sunlight of Balaklava’s bay was almost as odd as driving in had been, but for quite different reasons.

Now instead of Cold War killers, the bay is home to a glittering array of yachts from all over the world and at the water’s edge instead of subs skulking in and out, throngs of locals indulged in a spot of fishing while shooting the breeze over a couple of beers.

If that isn’t a sign of progress, we don’t know what is.

Photos: Jeremy Hart