The emergence of the open corner — sense making through art and humanity
Title credit: Tanja Kerlo | Traditional Chinese edition
Last month, I found myself in Dubai, where I attended the World Economic Forum Young Global Leaders Summit. I played dual roles as a scribe and a member of the facilitation team for The Value Web and Matter Group. Throughout several preparatory calls with Aaron Williamson and Tanja Kerlo, we collectively conceptualized the visual metaphors for the event. Aaron and Tanja, drawing inspiration from Islamic mosaic art, introduced the captivating ‘mosaic’ theme, symbolizing the rich color and spirit of diversity.
Despite possessing limited information and lacking firsthand experience of the space, my intuition guided me after another prepping call with the team — Santosh Nair, a talented and professional scribe from India, and Alexandra Farias from Matter Group. I trusted my intuition and packed an assortment of materials, including hundreds of custom-cut cardboard pieces (20x20cm), colored tapes, brushes, and paints, and embarked on a journey into the unknown.
Despite our limited understanding of the space on-site and the absence of a visceral experience, this adventure has decided to expand the possibilities of storytelling and scribing, transcending the 2D concept and evolving into a 3D experience. Not confined to establishing a traditional “knowledge wall” or scribing in a specific space, I deeply felt that the term “wall” has its specific limitations and connotation. In the sensitive moment of the ongoing Middle East conflict, should we rebuild the “wall” or let go of it? The day before the meeting, I heard more news of war and conflict as well as the hospital explosion and casualties in Gaza. In the midst of these complex emotions and strong feelings, how can I still hold my posture, gently and resiliently, with an open heart and listening, while simultaneously creating a space that can carry the intensity and depth of experiences?
In these dialogues with myself and the facilitation team , the transformation from a “knowledge wall” to an “open corner” unfolds — a space that maintains openness to possibilities and hope. The original corner persists, but through the manifestation of a three-dimensional turn, the blank L-shaped corner visually seems to spread a pair of invisible open wings, ready to embrace the emerging possibilities. As we reflect on the entire system, those often overlooked are the ones situated on the “edge” and those without the opportunity to appear (voice). The open corner is located beside the entrance of the vast high-ceilinged conference space, silently existing like a blank canvas. It embodies what we observe as inequalities in different systems, while also metaphorically suggesting that even seemingly insignificant corners have the opportunity to make their voices heard.
The long scroll hanging from the top, featuring a pivotal opening question, not only created a focal point but also maintained openings on both sides. Santosh and I are not tall enough to reach to the top, and has to use a ladder to go up and down during the three-days conference. The ladder naturally became an ongoing artifact and part of constructing the corner space, symbolizing a work in progress. Square cardboards panels pay the role of messengers, encapsulating synthesized messages from diverse conversations and dialogues. Hanging and suspended them with linen threads infused uncertain movement, metaphorically representing the various dynamic uncertainties, chaos, and ambiguity people face in the system. It also invites participants to read between the dynamics, to walk in between. Tapes served as annotators, branches, and threads, intricately connecting the various components. It’s also a metaphor of amending, dividing, piecing together fragments in the system.
The underlying themes transitioned from new patterns to impact, broadening the horizon for forward-thinking. An invitation extended to all, urging them to draw near, circumnavigate, step into, and bear witness. Participants were not only encouraged to linger and reflect but also to contribute their words throughout the three-day event.
The facilitation team worked diligently behind the scenes, continuously collecting, synthesizing, and integrating content from various parallel session. This provided Santosh and me with concrete material to express the abstract and metaphorical, presenting it cohesively. I engaged in a constant tug-of-war with my inner voices, challenging my blind spots and assumptions. As a scribe, I questioned the purpose of our existence and the potential impact of the messages conveyed through artistic expression, striving to find meaning in our roles.
One morning, as I was fully immersed in my work at the open corner, a female service staff member approached me, I inquired about what she saw. After a moment of silence, with a heavy accent, she replied, “I’ve been serving at big conferences for many years, this is the first time I’ve really looked at all these in such a conference. All of the drawings and messages are really big and deep questions! They are questions for life!” She said this with a radiant big smile. Later that afternoon, a young junior service staff member stood beside me for a short while. ”I want to spend time to look closely and read it carefully so I can share those messages with my friends; they need to see it,” he expressed with a quiet voice and shining eyes. Then he pointed to the large orange-red marks in the upper right corner of the Earth and asked me, “What is that?” I countered by asking him what he saw. He looked at it in silence, then turned to me and said:
‘I see flames, my heart hurts a bit.’
Although we were strangers, we stood side by side, gazing at the image of the Earth. In that moment, I felt a profound connection.
“Art is confrontation. It widens the audience’s reality, allowing them to glimpse life through a different window.” — The Creative Act, by Rick Rubin page 98–99
In these rare and precious moments, a glimpse of the possible answer to my inquiries emerged. The Open Corner embodied the spirit of a container — the collective experience of the social field. As scribes, we wield markers and brushes as our sensors — sensing tentacles and torches that explore unknown territories. We listen to and serve the social field and surface the least seen into our awareness, and manifesting them through artistic and creative forms.
Art, in its various forms, reaches all walks of life. Amidst the ongoing war and humanitarian crisis in the Middle East, it instills hope that, through art, we can make sense of our core existence as a human species, finding a healing glimmer amidst turbulence and uncertainty.
I’d like to express my gratitude to the marvelous YGL global community, especially the facilitation team: Aaron Williamson and Tanja Kerlo, dear friends and colleagues I’ve known and worked with since 2010. Alexandra Farias from Matter Group, and Santosh Nair who worked seamlessly together during this memorable experience in Dubai.
