"Quarantined Creatives" Podcast.

Sotto explains “Guest Experience 2.0” aboard SkyRanch One with host Heath Racela.

Covid Quarantine brings out the “podcaster” in people, and Eddie is no exception here. This show, unlike the typical theme park history podcasts, focuses on how theme parks are affected by the COVID19 virus, how reopening may hurt the desire to return, and what can be done long term to reimagine the experience in a way that brings people back. Our host, TV producer Heath Racela also expands the conversation into the realm of design and storytelling in the film industry. He asks Sotto to explain how the motion picture production design process compares to and inspired the design of theme parks and attractions.

"Cars that Matter" Podcast with Robert Ross.

My favorite host! Robert Ross knows all the right questions.

It’s really fun when two design enthusiasts get together and talk design, cars, planes and theme parks. Our host Robert Ross, decides to throw his best and most intriguing design questions toward an unsuspecting Eddie Sotto. What a match! What begins as in interview, turns into a relaxed and free-wheeling conversation that goes far beyond cars into theme parks, tequila tasting chairs and private jets, yet somehow lands on four wheels. Enjoy Sotto’s insights into everything from James Bond and his Aston Martin, to Ferrari and Fornasetti. There are always those Disney references too!

Since 1989, Robert Ross has been writing about art, design, audio, motorcycles, and especially cars—new and old. A lifelong enthusiast, Ross enjoys a few machines of his own—both contemporary and classic—but he especially values the people he’s met, and of course, the countless vehicles entrusted to him along the way. He has contributed stories to Robb Report magazine since 2001 and consults with companies in a diverse range of luxury segments. Ross is a native of Los Angeles, where he lives, works, and drives. A variety of interests beyond cars and bikes keep him busy, with collections that include tribal art, music, and lunatic-fringe audio gear. However, a passion for 15th century Old Master prints eclipses all others.

"Experiential Designer" Yeah, right.

Currently featured on linkedin.

"Experiential designer" was a relatively unknown title when I began using it more than a decade ago. Brooks Branch, a brand guru and client at the time described what I was doing for him as such and so the moniker stuck. For the first few years it had to be explained, but now it's everywhere and might need explaining again. Like "storytelling", "experiential" has spread across the brand landscape like margarine to the point where applying underarm deodorant has suddenly become an "experiential storytelling journey". Yeah, right. 

The Snowjob.

So to that end, it might be relevant to revisit what made Brooks choose that label in the first place. I'm not the traditional "creative". Not being an architect, but designing architecture, not being an acoustician, but creating sonic environments, and not being a screenwriter, but penning brief project narratives, you realize that you're designing spaces as a total experience. Seeing things from every sensory perspective, then using design to immerse guests in a feeling. We certainly take in experiences in real time using all of our senses; so why not design that way? Who makes horror movies without sound? What chef ignores what his meal smells like? It all matters. Just visit a space where something feels kinda "off ", then it's a "de-tuned" experience. But what is an "experience"?

One dictionary described it as "a child's first experience of snow", a sensory feast. You taste it, touch it, crunch it, and watch it blanket a forest. It's bitter cold, it's fractal, and even transforms while melting in your hand, and if you're fast, it's nature's LEGO to erect a Snowman. 

Growing up as a kid in LA with a fascination for places like Disneyland, I longed to escape the gas stations on every corner for alternate "worlds" that were rich and immersive, but not all places made the cut. Fantasy relies on the suspension of disbelief and thematic contradiction trashes it.  Imagine watching a Western only to see a Tesla drive through the scene. The car is a contradiction to that world and breaks whatever spell it had on you. Like seeing a plastic vault door in a bank would cause you to lose trust.  Tiki Bars do immersion well, as those umbrella drinks support the "savage" logic or narrative (or you're too bombed to care.) Venice, Italy is really good at immersing us in its "world". Void of distractions like cars, it's a rat's maze of fractured streets that pay off with grand squares, singing gondoliers, Cappuccino and Campari; all held together by its own crumbling yet harmonious architecture. All in, we get a sense of the Renaissance by immersion. Venice succeeds eternally because of it's seamlessly unique experience (until they add a Marriot.)

Main Street "Discovery Arcade" Disneyland Paris

After being a designer at Disney Imagineering for 13 years, developing "lands" (like the victorian "Main Street USA") in places that already are adult theme parks like Paris, it dawns on you that the "real world" is much like the themed one, only with more contradictions. Leaving Disney to set up my own practice 10 years go, I sought to export some of that "form follows feeling"  sensory experience into brand development and place making. Even if it was not themed per se, the process of starting with the emotional "wow" then designing in total to sustain it, seemed to have value.  Why?

The Example.

To illustrate, we were tapped to create "Rivera", a chef driven restaurant that as an experience, had to define "modern latin dining." It was to have it's own abstract narrative and logic that was to be designed to match the chef's "mayan modern" vision. I created a playlist of music that I imagined guests would hear while dining. It truly guided a unique design, but that wasn't enough. To communicate this beyond presented artwork, we gave each potential investor my soundtrack to listen to so they too could imagine being there opening night. We got the money, opened the restaurant, and each investor was thrilled to hear their music scoring the real experience, which exceeded their expectations. We used one sense to convince another, by communicating the "wow" in advance bringing those investors into the soul of the idea. To me, the big win is in the synthesis of design with those sensory elements.  There is an exponential power when they all fire seamlessly as one, like a full orchestra over a soloist. 

"Experiential design scores the senses, then tunes them to shatter the mind's glass"

The Takeaway

So what's the point? It's to realize that the senses matter and that as much as the process typically is to just hire an architect, agency, or an interior specialist, as humans we experience so much more. De-silo the players and make it all important.  Galpin's ClubAston sells more than a car, it sells "James Bond", so we helped craft an experience to convey that aspiration, from music to martinis and it lives in a vault (opening image.) Experiential design scores the senses, then tunes them to shatter the mind's glass. I try to see things as scenes, as a camera does, where everything is there to support and collectively communicate a feeling. Having set designers as an inspiration and film in my family, I was fortunate to grow up around this organic story driven process, to design in a way that makes me prioritize by emotion, then love each detail. You can too. Concept is King and its execution deserves "special forces" as this stuff is not typically easy! Hope that is helpful to you, and thanks again Brooks!