Today got me thinking about people who inspire me - my ‘idols’ if you want to put it in such a way. I’ve always thought my idols to be a strange list for someone my age, but it’s probably because friends and family have looked at me in a puzzled fashion, accompanied by “Who?” or “you geek…” The list is in no particular order, but was recalled through No.1 in my brain after someone pointed out that the awesome film ‘Back to the Future’ (a staple part of any 80s child’s upbringing!) was 25 years ago. 25!! Cripes. Time certainly does fly…my flying car is parked outside, yeah? ;)
I was a big fan in the 80s due to the films of course, but it’s not until much later that I actually formed genuine admiration for the guy. Read his auto-biography ‘Lucky Man’ and you’ll see why - his amazing positive outlook on early-onset Parkinsons disease and all the tireless work he’s done for raising awareness is really something. I’ve just ordered his next chapter ‘Always Looking Up’ and pre-ordered another book due in August, and I can’t wait.
Apart from having one of the most incredible minds of the past few centuries at least, he’s spent most of his career theorising and making breakthroughs without being able to move, and having to converse and type massive equations via a painstakingly slow computer system. Would he have achieved more being able to write furiously and chatter quickly with peers, or is the enforced patience he has to live with given him time to ponder where others don’t? Something that always makes me think.
I don’t think anyone did quite as much to instil love and awe of nature and animals than David - he is pretty much the king of the documentary and a benchmark for narration and enthusiasm. His programmes and books have never failed to capture my attention since I was a child, and his current work for conservation and planet awareness is something I support wholeheartedly.
I’ll start off with a kind request to Her Maj - knight him already, will you? I mean really, it’s well overdue. Anyway. Despite some people’s aggravation that Fry ‘seems to be bloody everywhere’, I love it! I don’t think there is anything that couldn’t be voiced perfectly by his dulcet tones. I’d very much like him to be my kind, wise uncle or something. But my admiration comes from his unfettered honesty in his documentary about his bi-polar disorder, and his work to support gay rights, coupled with his humble attitude and, let’s be honest, the brilliant Melchett :)
I’d give my right arm to work at Pixar. Seriously, I’m left-handed anyway guys, I won’t miss it… Lasseter’s enthusiasm and sheer maddening amounts of talent just leave me stunned. I can’t imagine how much fun (and how hard!) it would be to work for him, but I wish I even had just 1% of that wildly imaginative talent.
If I hadn’t already promised my right arm to Pixar, I’d give it to look like her. Umm, but then I’d be one-armed and swinging on a rope Lara Croft-style with a bionic arm or something. So yes, apart from that I have a hearty respect for her humanitarian work and her general graceful, strong attitude.
7. Paula Scher and Michael Bierut
I’m putting these guys together as partners in Pentagram design, and as designers whose work I always clamoured to see and hear more of. They are the first people I recommend studying, to any new designers, and whose creative brains I’d love to pick!
Heather’s frank and honest blogging at dooce.com, beautiful photos and experiences with her family and business are always inspiring to read. Heartfelt and humorous is how I’d describe her, and for everything she’s been through I’d love to buy the woman a baby hippo. Or a few chickens. (fans of the site will understand…LOL)
9. My teachers
Anyone who actually enjoyed school as I did, has a soft spot for the teachers whose hard work and kind words helped them along. I count myself lucky to have been part of the ‘top set’ as they called them then, but my good grades were prompted by great teaching.
My primary school teacher Mr Morris was our very own Attenborough, teaching me how to investigate and respect ‘minibeasts’ (insects and creepy crawlies!) and wild flowers. Plus he looked like David Bellamy, beard and all! The ‘reception class’ (kindergarten) year teacher Mrs Garbutt who helped me through stage fright as I played Little Weed, and told my mother she wished she ‘had a class full of Leannes’ bless her.
Mr Bell, my high school history teacher was a hard, stern man not to be trifled with (and the rumours of him being ‘an ex army sergeant or something’ kept even the unruly pupils in check) but a genuinely keen and lovely ‘grandad’ as we grew to call him - once sending one of us out of grounds to the local shop to sneak in ice lollies for the whole class, out of his own money (under agreement that we didn’t tell and spoil his hard reputation! LOL). I was absolutely gutted to hear he passed away a few years ago.
My art teachers Mr Birbeck and Mr Gourley (who also sadly died last year) with amazing enthusiasm, no-nonsense attitudes, swearing and blatant honesty - and their encouragement when I told them I was going into graphic design.
My English teachers Dewhirst and Cuthbertson - infuriatingly argumentative at times, which I later realised was their way of pushing debate and thought from us. Mr Cuthbertson bet us we couldn’t find out his first name, prepared for the barrage of teasing we’d throw his way when we inevitably did ;)
Mrs Suchak who gracefully tackled my atheist arguments in religious lessons, gave me inspiring book lists for English, and told me how proud they all were when I collected my award for best exam grades in the school, after a spell in hospital due to a massive asthma attack. Bloody woman nearly made me cry ;)
All of these teachers stayed out of hours to coach us before our exams, during break and even lunch times for revision and help, and dissuaded our panic when it got tough. I appreciated the effort at the time, but it’s not until years later you realise just how damned hard they worked too.
Not to mention my mother, always there through the hospital visits, reassuring through my “I’m gonna faaaaaail” panics, and popping her head around my bedroom door to prompt me to get some sleep at 2am, still revising. And again at college, usually at 4 or 5am while I was falling asleep at the drawing board or computer.
At 31 I’m still eternally grateful for their influences and advice :)
