Keywords: Pace, Density, Nervous System, Territory, Rhythm

These field notes represent an early experiment in territory-based observation as design research. This artifact grounds the theoretical inquiry in lived experience. It explores how pace, density, and season shape perception and cognition.

This piece marks a methodological shift: from designing systems externally to studying how environments shape perception and behavior from within. It is not a conclusion, but an attempt to cultivate attentional practices that inform future design work.

NYC Notes – Feb 2026

The ice is slowly starting to melt after 2 weeks of biting cold. I also feel that I have iced over and am slowly beginning to thaw. The days are getting longer. In the returning light I sense renewal on the horizon – after months of darkness and confusion, something is beginning to shift.

Arriving in New York is like landing on a treadmill. I pick up the pace without deciding to. Even with the same daily obligations, I find a way to pack my day with things, and feel agitated if empty space appears. The high energy of the city seeps into my personal energy.

If I am strolling, I make sure not to obstruct the way. I used to criticize the pace here, but now I respect it and just make sure not to interfere if my pace is different. This creates less tension both in myself and with people I cross paths with.

I find it is hard to breathe deeply on the subway. Maybe it is the stale air, or the sounds, or the proximity to other people.

I went out dancing, I am one of the few white people at this social event. I put on heeled boots because I wanted to feel good and let go, and I’m already very tall without them. I’m aware of how much space I take up, and I am still learning how to feel comfortable in my body while remaining aware of what it signals.

It is Lunar New Year. Before making it to Chinatown, my body feels anxious in my chest and stomach. I’m restless and unsettled. It is a grey day. Exiting the subway, the streets are packed. It is impossible to walk fast, and I am accepting it will be like this for a while. I’m letting my body settle into a slower pace. Hearing the drums and seeing the bright colors and vivid movements of the lion dance effortlessly brings joy. Firecrackers are supposed to scare the evil spirits away, and I think they are scaring away my restlessness. I am not a fan of crowds, but everyone is joyful and many children are excited. My frustration is slipping off as I melt into the crowd. My heart is starting to skip with the drums. The sun comes out.

I feel that I am able to walk slower in Brooklyn. The energy is less frantic. Perhaps it is because the city is less compressed and vertical here.

In this city, I am constantly adjusting my pace. Sometimes it demands hardening – I can get yelled at and honked at, I see so many people struggling, and the winter is brutal. It forces me to grow thick skin. Sometimes it asks me to soften – when I cannot fight the crowds, when I see acts of pure human compassion amidst the chaos arising like the wildflowers that grow out of the cracks in the concrete. Individual people bloom like unique flowers in their self-expression – unapologetic and beautiful. This city teaches me where to yield to and when to resist.