Latest news with #DanRubinstein
Globe and Mail
a day ago
- Globe and Mail
Make space in your life for ‘blue space'
Dan Rubinstein's latest book is Water Borne: A 1,200-Mile Paddleboarding Pilgrimage, from which this essay has been partly adapted. 'Hey! What's the rush? Take a break! Have a beer.' I'm paddling hard, head down, at the tail end of another sweltering, stormy day of voyaging west along the Erie Canal. The waterside campground I'm aiming for, on the outskirts of Weedsport in upstate New York, is less than a kilometre away. Knackered, all I want is a shower and food, not to hang out with some dude hollering at me from shore. Looking over my right shoulder, I see a small group on the back of a boat docked at a marina. A man with a big grin is waving me over. Despite what seems like a genuine invitation to join their party, it's not always wise to approach strangers who may be well into happy hour. But one of the main reasons I embarked on this journey – a 2,000-km circumnavigation from my home in Ottawa back to Ottawa via Montreal, New York City and Toronto – was to meet people. So I pivot my paddleboard and beeline to the boat. Matt Donahue helps me climb aboard and introduces his wife, son and friends. 'Where the hell are you going?' he asks, handing me an icy can of beer. Leaning back on a bench, I provide a précis. I'm a writer and love stand-up paddleboarding (a.k.a. SUP), and I'm curious about the curative properties of 'blue space,' about what happens when we spend time in, on, or around water. The aquatic equivalent of green space has received increasing attention in recent years from researchers who are interested in its impact on our psychological and physiological health, as well as the health of the planet. Concerned about these things myself, both the world's well-being and my own, I hopped on a 14-foot-long inflatable SUP with a couple drybags of camping gear and some notepads and started paddling down the Ottawa River toward Montreal. That departure took place early in the summer of 2023, which turned out to be one of the hottest ever on the continent (at least for now). Now it's late July, and nearly two months of immersion journalism, and about 40 self-propelled kilometres every day, are draining my energy and resolve. But Mr. Donahue and his crew are inquisitive and enthusiastic. They are happy for me. That somebody on an offbeat expedition is passing through their part of the state. There is teasing and laughing, high-fiving and rib-digging. Their joy makes me joyous. Mr. Donahue gives me another beer for later and we hug. Not awkward, one-armed back-patting. A real hug. 'Where else,' I ponder while paddling away, 'do two middle-aged men who've just met hug like that?' My obsession with blue space was sparked when I got my first paddleboard a decade ago. I had lived in half a dozen cities across Canada, all on either a river, lake or ocean, but never owned a watercraft of any kind. With a SUP, which can be carried under one arm, or in an oversized backpack if it's inflatable, I suddenly had intimate access to aquatic environments. When paddling, I could gaze at shoreline forests or the shimmering horizon, or down into the water at fish and plants, the primordial soup our ancestors clambered out of. When it was hot, it was easy to jump in for a swim. Whether in urban or rural areas, being perched atop a SUP always made me feel better. And while we interact with blue space in individual ways, I'm far from the only person for whom water is an elixir. The science is clear that being in nature is generally good for our bodies and brains. We tend to be more active and less anxious. Although it's difficult to differentiate between green and blue spaces, according to Mat White, an environmental psychologist at the University of Vienna and arguably the world's leading authority on this subject, water seems to uncork a multiplier effect. Dr. White explores what happens when we do anything (paddle, swim, surf, walk, sit) in, on or near just about any type of water, from vast seas to downtown fountains. After leading several research projects and crunching the data, he believes that blue space has a mostly positive and, compared to other outdoor environments, a more pronounced impact on our mental and physical health. 'The crucial point about that research was that it was the poorest communities and individuals who got the benefits,' Dr. White told me. 'If you're rich, it doesn't matter how often you spend time in blue space. You're healthy and happy anyway. But if you're poor, it matters hugely.' Water is a double-edged sword, Dr. White cautions. Drowning is the third leading cause of unintentional injury death around the world. Around two billion people don't have access to clean drinking water. Rising seas, intensifying storms, widespread flooding and water-borne diseases are among the deadliest consequences of global warming, and they tend to displace and kill those with the least capacity to escape or adapt. These realities notwithstanding, people are happiest in marine and coastal margins, a pair of British environmental economists determined, gathering more than a million pings on their 'Mappiness' app. Blue neighbourhoods are 'associated with lower psychological distress,' reports a paper out of New Zealand. And taking the sea air – breathing in 'bioactive compounds that may originate from marine algae,' in the parlance of Belgian biologist Jana Asselman – appears to give our immune systems a boost. These settings also offer opportunities for social interaction, suggests a Scottish literature review, kindling 'a sense of community [and] mutual support between people.' Moreover, hanging out in blue space promotes 'pro-environmental behavior,' especially among children. In other words, we pay more attention to others and take better care of the planet. To decipher the mechanisms at play, I contacted another environmental psychologist, Jenny Roe at the University of Virginia. Blue space triggers our parasympathetic nervous system, Dr. Roe said to me before I left home, which basically tells the brain what our bodies are doing and then acts like a brake, dampening the stress response. Water can instill a sense of being away and boundless possibilities, she added, yet also a feeling of compatibility with our location, of comfort and belonging. Evolutionarily, this makes sense. Our bodies are mostly water and, like all living things, we need it to survive. Even looking at a creek or pool is enough to lower blood pressure and heart rates, a pair of University of California, Davis, psychology researchers concluded, attributing this link, in part, to our forebears successfully detecting drinking water in arid environments. I was thirsty throughout my trip. Lukewarm electrolytes don't cut in when you're paddling for hours in hot, humid conditions. But the kindness of strangers kept me hydrated. People in boats and on shore offered me cold water and sports drinks; they shared snacks, stories, local intel about guerrilla campsites and, on several occasions, let me tent on their lawns. Poor and rich and every socioeconomic status in between, Black and brown and white and every blended colour on the spectrum, they welcomed me and looked out for me. The interviews I had set up in advance were validating my holistic health thesis: in Kahnawake, Que., a Mohawk reserve near Montreal, I saw young leaders re-establishing their community's relationship to the river decades after the St. Lawrence Seaway was bulldozed through their front yard; I met kayakers on the Lower Hudson whose non-profits fight for free access to the river, so everybody can take advantage of its healing power. But it was serendipitous encounters that buoyed me the most. And even academics like Howard University's Lemir Teron affirmed that despite long histories of injustice, waterways such as the Erie Canal hold promise as public realms where a cross-section of people can gather. Why does blue space seem to encourage connections between strangers? There's no peer-reviewed paper on this topic, but I think it's because of the impact of aquatic places on our well-being, coupled with a latent danger that compels us to watch out for one another, and the fact that we tend to slow down around water, creating opportunities for face-to-face conversation. Much of my paddle took place in upstate New York, which leans Republican. One muggy morning on the Erie Canal, I pull over and chat with a man sitting on a staircase that descends into the water, feet submerged, below his Trump-flag-adorned RV. We discuss whether the dark clouds gathering to the northeast will blow this way. He thinks I'll be fine. Soon, I'm out of sight upriver and it's pouring, but there's no thunder and the rain feels like the best kind of shower. Had lightning struck, my new friend would probably have granted me refuge.
Forbes
28-05-2025
- Business
- Forbes
Meet The Podcaster Redefining Luxury Media With A New Magazine
Courtesy the Grand Tourist, photo Daniel Cano One of the design world's most influential podcasters has launched a magazine that entertains, informs, and fills a gaping hole in the luxury lifestyle category. The Grand Tourist (the publication) was birthed from the podcast of the same name, founded by Dan Rubinstein four years ago. Rubinstein has spent over two decades in media, most notably as the Home & Design Director at the sadly defunct Departures magazine and Editor-in-Chief of Surface magazine. Some of the biggest names in, yes, design but also food, art and fashion and have been featured on the podcast, most notably Kelly Wearstler, Nick Cave, Jean-Georges Vongerichten, Philippe Starck, Annabelle Seldorf, Theaster Gates and Patti LuPone. Courtesy the Grand Tourist, photo Daniel Cano 'It was a bit of a political statement,' he now acknowledges. 'At the time, not so much now, there was this lament that traditional design media and art and style media was being flattened and dumbed down in the age of social media and publishing today. And magazines that used to do the long form profile stopped doing it completely. So [The Grand Tourist] was meant to be the ultimate long form profile.' Because it was launched during the pandemic, the podcast was meant to be a grand our through the worlds of art, design and style, through audio. The name, aptly, refers to the Grand Tour, a journey taken by (predominantly) monied European young men in the 17th to 19th centuries. It served as an education via travel, a voyage throughout France and Italy that could last anywhere from several months to several years. Courtesy the Grand Tourist, photo Daniel Cano Rubinstein, similarly, has educated his very devoted listeners over the past four years. His 364-page hardcover tome features 8 interviews from the latest podcasat season, which includes fashion designer Erdem Moralioglu (who also graces one of the three covers), artist Calida Rawles, and curator Hans Ulrich Obrist. In addition, Rubinstein commissioned original articles covering a swathe of inspirational topics from travel (sailing the Nile), the arts (an Arte Povera museum in upstate New York), partnership (a profile of David and Sybil Yurman), fashion (Van Cleef & Arpels high jewelry creations) and, of course design, from profiles of people that have the industry all a-buzz to a survey of notable Italian seating of the past and present. It's all accompanied by original photographs taken by the likes of Alessio Boni, Roland Beaufre, and Jonathan Becker. Courtesy the Grand Tourist, photo Maxime Poiblanc The magazine (which is really a book with ads interspersed throughout) is offered in three different tipped-in covers with embossed cover lines – which is magazine-speak for extreme attention to detail, luxurious and expensive. 'I wanted it to be a collectible object that people would want to be a part of,' noted Rubinstein of the linen-covered book that was printed in Belgium on weighty paper. 'We want the magazine itself to be part of the experience.' the Grand Tourist To commemorate the first of what will be a bi-annual publication as of next year (buy it here), we asked Rubinstein about some of his favorite episodes from the past four years. It's an intriguing selection, with links provided for those who'd like to experience the entire episode. Vienna Courtesy of Hotel Sacher—Credit Heldentheater Siegl & Urschler OG 'I spent a week in Vienna in 2023, talking to a real mix of people from museum directors to hoteliers and designers — all with a connection to Austrian culture and Austrian history. I had a personal connection as well – my great grandmother was from Austria, my great grandfather is buried there and all the food I grew up eating is essentially Austrian food.' Deeda Blair Socialite Deeda Blair (Photo by Kyle Samperton/WWD/Penske Media via Getty Images) 'I went to her house and she made lunch for me. She was wearing couture. It was the most intimidating lunch I've had in my life, in an enormous room with this tiny table, set for just the two of us. We had sweet tea, grapes in aspic, weird retro food from her book including a delicious salad that only masters of the universe from the 1960s eat. Afterwards we went to her study in her living room and set up the equipment and did a lovely interview.' Patti LuPone LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA - SEPTEMBER 16: Patti LuPone attends the Special Launch Event for Marvel Television's "Agatha All Along" at El Capitan Theatre on September 16, 2024 in Los Angeles, California. (Photo by Axelle/Bauer-Griffin/FilmMagic) 'The best conversations happen in the most unexpected and casual ways. When I talked to Patti LuPone she was rehearsing for 'The Roommate,' the Broadway play also starring Mia Farrow. She was losing her voice a little bit. When we started the interview the screen was off, so I couldn't see her. So I asked about turning on video, and there was a pause. And then she said, 'Oh honey, I'm in bed.' I'm like, that's totally cool and fine. And, all of a sudden, there she was sitting up in bed with a headset. Her voice was so strong she was almost blowing out the mic.' Calida Rawles Gillian Garcia 'This is one of the most heartfelt episodes I've ever done. Calida is a photo-realistic painter who got an MFA from New York University and was told she wouldn't be successful because she couldn't be both a mother and an artist. There were a lot of racial undertones to the criticism she felt. Gillian Garcia shot her for the magazine – in her Los Angeles studio and neighborhoods that she really identifies with. Oddly enough, a month after that episode came out she ended up walking one of the Hermes runways.' Frédéric Malle PARIS, FRANCE - NOVEMBER 4: Frederic Malle attends Le Diner des Amis du Musee d'Orsay on November 4, 2024 in Paris, France (Photo by Luc Castel/GettyImages) 'I had never interviewed a perfumer before but he's the most fascinating. He comes from a family of creatives – his father was a film producer and his uncle was the director Louis Malle. Frederic was the first to the first to give the 'nose' behind the scent credit for the scent, and he called himself the 'publisher' of the scent. He unlocked a new era of fragrance that is more about craft and technology, not just marketing. Everyone thought he was crazy, but he is a true entrepreneur.'
