You can drown in shallow waters.

Yes literally, but I mean it here as metaphor. I’ll explain.

I’ve been watching Season 2 of The Rehearsal, HBO’s comedy created by Nathan Fielder. And it got me thinking…..

If you view comedy as simply entertainment to make you laugh out loud, you will be disappointed. And not just with the show, you may often find yourself disappointed in life. Not because of a lack of smiles and laughter. But because humor is a tool that pries open doors, it encourages thoughts to sit in our heads to be questioned. Great humor is a prism that refracts differently depending on how and by whom it is viewed. It leaves you with the deeply satisfying sensation you get after engaging in conversation that goes well beyond the surface.

Much creativity or entertainment can strike us, “hit hard”, but all the same become quickly unforgettable. Here’s what I mean. You can watch a show, relate and laugh or cry, depending. Even binge it in one setting, it’s that good. But back at the office the next week, the name of the show escapes you when describing it to a colleague. By the following week, it’s as if it never happened. Erased.

What makes something stick?

I think about this a lot when it comes to design. When is a building not just a building? A jacket not just a jacket? Zaha Hadid was one of my favorite architects. She worked in simple materials - concrete her medium of choice. As a fan of minimalism, I’m always struck by the seeming nuance but in actuality stark difference between her uncomplicated pieces rich with depth versus the works of others that simply read flat, nothing to be remembered or discussed afterward. It’s a long standing struggle in clothing design as well. The desire to create something that is so much more is the intent. But getting there is not as simple as piling on or going for a bit of shock and awe in colors, trims and cuts. In fact, in the attempt for all that attention, the item can often feel bereft of emotion. Not intuitive, I know. Conversely, the clean navy blazer can go the way of the unskilled cement inspired architect if the item is minimal but poorly executed.

I think I have the answer for what sticks. For me, at least.

When I was growing up, I couldn’t do math. I struggled with the basics of Algebra 1. Don’t even talk to me about trigonometry.

But statistics? I killed at statistics. Odd, you may think, after all statistics just breaks down to an algebraic equation, only you’re using live subjects or real objects instead of a+b(c) to land a point. It was logical to me because the abstract was brought to life through visuals, deeper meaning, and connections to future considerations. Statistics is a mathematical form of connecting the dots for the purpose of giving meaning. If 40 people loved something and bought it 20 times at $100 per item, math tells you the result is $80,000. But statistically speaking, if the 40 people resided in a town of 4million people, with 2million people in your demographic audience, then you may have $80,000 in sales but you also have a product that is way underperforming. Now you can view $80k with more dimension: why are we not getting more attention, is this product dead on arrival? Connecting the dots, getting context. I can easily forget that the number was $80k, what I can’t forget is that the product is under performing and there is a fundamental issue with converting sales in the market. Sticky.

For something to stick, I need to be able to be able to connect dots and build a picture in my head.

The Rehearsal stays with you. To be discussed. Because while the delivery is flat, there’s depth. And the matter, delivered in Nathan’s deadpan stance, may at first seem about one thing. And then another, until it ultimately drills to a core revelation of what happens when we lose the ability to have discourse. Or worse, when it is not lost, but simply never learned or gained. The inability to question, reflect, and often simply state the obvious can have devastating effects. Played out here in The Rehearsal to their worst case scenarios. There is broader meaning here, it applies to our relationships, how we move through life.

So buck the algorithm. Seek out the complex, read and watch with intent. Let your eyes linger over a building or a painting a bit longer. When you consider a new jacket, pause and recognize what it means to you beyond the stitches and the material. Make connections between the entertainment you enjoy, the architecture you love, the family you grew up with. Don’t be afraid to find meaning. Have you ever tried swimming too hard in the shallow end? Or worse, diving in? You either get no where or it can literally kill you. Use it for what it is, a place to maybe catch some air and rest, every now and then. The deep end is where the good stuff happens. For me, anyways.