Sydney

Sydney is a 40-year old freelance video filmmaker who works from home. He has a fairly sophisticated technology setup in his apartment (a PC with a large monitor that he calls "nuclear" in reference to it's large emanating electronic presence), but prefers to get out of that environment with its overwhelming amount of technology and low ceilings and work outside.

He spends a couple of hours per day in a park near his house, a few minutes drive away. It's not a green space, per se, an almost dirt and hay covered steep hill that has no name, but with a wonderful view and several eucalyptus trees. He finds that being in this different environment he can focus on the editing he needs to do in a better way. The day we met with him, he was reviewing Mojave Desert footage and was able to see mirages in the footage that he hadn't noticed before, his eyes just worked better in that environment. He mentioned several times that he doesn't even look at the view, he looks at his computer.

He transfers the key files he needs to work with to his laptop, a 12" Mac, and can very quickly head out. He will occasionally check email, picking up a WiFi signal (or two) from the hill, including one he's been picking up named "snakepit" for years, but if not, that's also fine. He's "trained" his clients and colleagues to use email as the best way to reach him, he's not comfortable with the technology of the cell phone, and prefers to be able to control his interruptions (and his work schedule) through the use of email.
On the day we spoke with him, his work involved updating "markers"  the in and out points of clips. He described how he needed to be immersed in the video, and was working in a poetic, non-linear fashion. To that end, he always uses headphones, which help pull him into the world of the software itself.

In his park, Sydney knew where to sit at various times depending on the sun (didn't want the image on his screen to be "washed out"), the wind, and the people walking dogs  ultimately he preferred the privacy he could obtain on the hill.
At one point, Sydney sat "in" a tree  nestled within the boughs of a eucalyptus, it created a comfortable seat for him. It reminded him of his recliner at home, sans footrest. It was his preferred way to work. He had an old leather calvin klein briefcase that he carried his laptop in (better not to appear as if it held a laptop) and he used it on his laptop to make a desk for the computer, protecting his knees from the extreme heat the laptop generated.
He would hold the computer with either hand, his palm or a few fingers stabilizing it. He was editing by tapping a few keys in sequence, rather than using the QWERTY keyboard as actual words.

He would use the battery life as almost an informal way to measure how long was "enough" in the park  some sense that if he was there doing a specific task longer than he had battery life, he was putting too much into it  the implication being that these projects could take infinite time, but it was important for him to make sure to move on and get on with things. He wasn't interested in hauling another batter with him  he wanted to be as "lean and mean" as possible with what he was carrying with him. He had his computer, the briefcase, a pen, a logbook, and the headphones, and that was it. He thought perhaps a solar panel strip (not a replacement of the entire face) would be a useful accessory.

He acknowledged some thought to how it looks to be seen working in a park, as if parks were for enjoyment and one shouldn't be working. The laptop connoted working, in his mind, and may not be appropriate. He thought he might get strange looks now and again, probably another reason for his preferred privacy approach  to come to the park when no one is there (before kids get out of school in the mid-afternoon, for example). But it was not an overall impediment. He described working with the laptop in other countries and how it aroused curiosity from others, and in a post 9-11 world may even have confirmed some beliefs about Americans that are held in other countries.