a visit to the temple of apple

So, the apple people told me I had to take the time capsule into the local apple store to get it diagnosed.  It’s like it has some rare condition that requires advanced specialists.  All right, all right, I said, and lined up child care.  Because there is NO WAY I’m going to the uber-mall with a two year old and a four year old.  Which meant going to the apple store on a Saturday.  Today, in fact.  Yikes.

You have to understand, I don’t get out much.  It’s probably been a year since I’ve been to this particular mall.  So I get there in 100 degree weather and drive around for a while looking for a parking spot, find one, and start humping in the time capsule and  my macbook through air that’s all wavy from the heat.  Everyone looks grim and determined, like we’re in some kind of extreme athletic event. But then we step inside, and it’s so amazingly cool that we all walk past each other in smiling, slow-mo, while trendy, happy music is piped in from heaven overhead. 

And then I get there.  The Apple Store.  It’s like a temple.  Shining glass and chrome, everything you see is designed to within an inch of its life.  There are no haphazard choices, from the shape of the electrical outlets, to the slogans on  the mac-worker’s t-shirts (the guy who greets me enthusiastically at the door wears a t-shirt that says, “Not all heros wear capes.”)    The place gleams.  I think to myself, If the apple store is a temple, what is Steve Jobs? The pope?  And as the smiling guy leads me back to the inner sanctum of tech support, I begin to feel like I’m a newbie at a cult meeting.  But a fun cult.  Where everything is pretty.

But different from a temple, the store i really, really crowded.  I mean, they were selling apples like they were hamburgers.   Every terminal, display, store-worker, and register has a small crowd hovering around it.  I have to wait thirty minutes past my appointment, but I can see that the tech-folk, all smiling and slightly grungy (which I begin to understand is another carefully designed marketing strategy) are working their asses off.  I wander around and end up in an aisle full of software for music (making, organizing), movies (making, watching), writing, photo editing, all kinds of connectivity, graphic design, all beautifully packaged, and I start to think, if the apple store is a temple, to what god are we worshiping here?  And I begin to think that the answer might be art.

I know, that sounds extreme.  But, bear with me.  If we give Art the loose definition of ‘stuff people make, that they care a lot about’ then all that software, all these computers, all these music/video players, are all designed to either make art, or experience someone else’s art.  And all the design only emphasizes the celebration of art–the computers and devices are so beautiful, one might say they are art themselves. Is this too wacky?  Have I drunk the kool-aid?

Well, every night when I fire up my new macbook and click the little scrivener icon, and start writing–the stuff that I make, that I care a lot about–I feel really happy to have such a well designed, lovely, space to work in.  To have all my tools handy, in good shape, well labeled, and just when I need them.  To have a clean, well-lighted workshop that supports me by disappearing while it gives me exactly what I need to do my thing.  So, yes, in that case, apple is certainly supporting MY art, anyway.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand that Steve Jobs knows exactly what he is doing in  how he markets this stuff to encourage just such a response. They spend tons of money to create just such an image–and they are making tons of money by delivering, pretty much, on their promise.  But, still, I liked it.  If I was a painter and I walked into a gleaming palace full of perfectly designed paint, paint brushes, canvases, glowing in their potential, along with the means to experience the paintings of many, many other painters, I think I would feel similarly.  It was cool to be in a place that seemed to really dig the stuff people make, and to want to help them make that stuff, and experience other people’s stuff.  Maybe not a temple.  Maybe a party.  A party about art.

Anyway, I sure never got a buzz like this from going to a pc store.  Mr. Jobs can sleep easy, knowing his grand plan for world domination is working.

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I just noticed that it would appear that Mr. Jobs, himself, has commented on my ‘another freaking test post’ post, helpfully suggesting a solution to my time capsule problem.  I’m not quite sure what to make of that, since the chance that Steve Jobs is actually reading my blog seems pretty slim.  Well, Steve, if that is really you, thank you so much for stopping by!  And if it is someone else pretending to be Steve Jobs, um, thanks for stopping by!