Life From A Window

“With the advent of the internet, people believed that place wouldn’t matter.”

“With the advent of the internet, people believed that place wouldn’t matter.”

Listening to NPR the other night, this phrase jumped out at me.

In some context, it’s true. Place doesn’t always matter. We collaborate easily with partners all over the world and our staff works together seamlessly amongst offices in New York, Bogota and San Francisco.

But, and here’s the thing, those place do matter.

Not only do we have offices in those locations for a reason, but the members of the Z-team who work and live there are there for a reason.

I recently shared Mateo Pericoli’s lovely book, The City Out My Window with a colleague in our Bogota office and, in the course of the discussion surrounding it, he mentioned that it would be wonderful for the Bogota team to share the views from their windows – a bit of their Bogota – on this blog.  That led to a conversation about Zemoga and how our team is located in so many different places and bring such varied outlooks and experiences to the table and how maybe, just maybe, it would be pretty interesting to share a little insight into the culture of Zemoga by getting perspective from members of the Z-team, scattered the world over.

Over the next several weeks, we’ll be sharing with you views from several people at Zemoga.  We hope you enjoy looking at the world through our eyes.

Andrés Tachira__; Bogota, Colombia

I like this view, because it is a calm place in “la candelaria” (downtown). It is the perfect place to get a glass of wine, listen to good music, think about myself and, if the moment brings some inspiration, paint something full of memories.

Sven Larsen; New York, NY, USA

The view outside my window is a constant reminder of the city I live in. For real New Yorkers, water towers are the signature architectural feature of our city, landmarks as distinctive as the Empire State Building or the Statue of Liberty. Rome has it’s fountains, Paris it’s tree lined plazas. For surly Gothamites, these supremely functional curios from another era are what we claim as our own, reminders that somehow, without us even noticing, this city has become our home.