99% Invisible - Tony Hawk's Real-Life Willy Wonka

Episode Date: October 20, 2026

A desert train built for Tony Hawk leads into the strange and thoughtful world of N.D. Austin, a designer of real-life experiences. Subscribe to SiriusXM Podcasts+ to listen to new episodes of 99% Invisible ad-free and a whole week early. Start a free trial now on Apple Podcasts or by visiting siriusxm.com/podcastsplus. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

This is 99% Invisible. I'm Roman Mars. If there's one thing we like here at 99PI, it's serendipity. Those little unexpected moments of magic that puncture the plaz of everyday life. But why leave serendipity to chance? What if you could design serendipity into someone's life or some other magical experience to make a better world? while our friends at Death, Sex, and Money found someone who does just that.

He calls himself an experienced designer, but that title might undersell him a little bit. To quote the great Tony Hawk, he's fucking Willy Wonka. And the equally great Anna Sale at Death Sex and Money would like to introduce him to you. Skateboarding legend Tony Hawk hosted a podcast with Radio Personality Jason Ellis. Hey everybody, it's Jason Ellis and Tony Hawk. Hawk versus Wolf, Greatest Podcasts of all time in the history of the universe. What he said about our podcast.

On an episode last year, Jason asked about a recent trip Tony had been on. You were in the desert. Okay, I'll explain it. Let me take you from the beginning. There's a guy I know that I've become friends with in New York, and he creates experiences. And when I say creates experiences, I cannot do it justice of what he is capable of and what he has put together for people. The guy who helped Tony is named in. Indy Austin. But if you're thinking high-end party host or wedding planner for rich people and celebrities, you've got the wrong idea.

I went to his place in New York. The last time I visited, we were just talking about other stuff. And I said, would you consider doing something from my office? Because we have a holiday thing every year, but kind of running out of ideas. Yeah. He's just like, what can we work with? And I said, well, I'd like to do something that is relatively close. But if we have to drive a little bit, that's fine. and those are the only parameters I gave him I don't know what he has what he's planning right and so we have our weekly

meeting and everyone's there and then there were all these gifts on the desk which was not not the usual like holiday gift exchange and so I get instructions like open the gifts so we open the gifts

there's like a shovel a pickax a first aid kit there's a locked brief case, and a set of keys. We look outside and there's this passenger van, and then I just get a location. Yeah. We just start driving

out to the desert, and we are driving, I mean, signs are like, no motorized vehicles pass this point, government property, and then we go around this corner and there's a train. Indie and his team built a five car train from old parts.

It ran on abandoned tracks on public land in the Southern California. It was whimsical, a piano player on one car, a bar car, but at the center of the experience was a ceremony. Like most of the things, Indy designs, at some point you encounter a personal challenge that cuts you to the quick. Tony said there were some relationships among his colleagues that needed mending. When the train was far out, Indie gave the team a bottle of whiskey and told them to bury it and make a promise. We go bury this bottle that we made a pact about. If one of us passes away, we're going to go find the bottle and share it.

In this episode, I talked to Tony Hawk and the train builder, N.D. Austin, who has designed hundreds of experiences from scavenger hunts to coming-of-age rituals and funerals. And for me, talking to N.D., about the origins of his work and the meaning behind it all was transformative. prepare to be wowed. My job as a designer of experiences is just to place stepping stones. So I'm creating a whole scenario of some type, but it's just a series of stepping stones.

Story results out of that, but it isn't a story I'm telling. It's something that happens personal to you. This is death, sex, and money. The show from Slate about the things we think about a lot need to talk about more. I'm Anna Sailed. Tony Hawk first bonded with Indie Austin over their love of rare whiskeys.

Before Indie designed an experience for Tony, he hosted Tony and his wife at his tiny bar, which seats two guests. It's made to look like a toll booth you'd find on the highway. So he's at the sort of the toll booth side of it, and then you're where the window would be, but the window's behind you. and he has this whole selection of bottles and stuff behind him. But it's, I mean, it's tight. Like the three, yes, there are three people in it, but there's no room for anything else. And I imagine in your work and in your life,

you've been around a lot of people who do things a little differently. Like, what is it, when you think of him and what he's able to dream up, do you think that, like, what, is it that he allows himself to do that other people just don't? Like what makes what he does special? I think he works outside the limits, well, firstly of the law. And of any sort of limitations of what you think, where you think you can go, what you think you can be involved with. I think it's more of that element that he sees a landscape or a city, and he sees it for possibilities and opportunities to, you know,

oh, what if we could get up there? It kind of reminds me of, like, how I think of skaters, like, you know, scanning the landscape for where they can skate. Yeah, you see the world in a totally different perspective. Seeing things from a different perspective. for skaters and for Indy sometimes involves trespassing. Indy has been known to create speakeasies

in water towers, hotel basements, and once for Tony Hawk in the San Diego sewer system. And then we go down and there's this entire passageway under the street that I don't know existed. And then we walk below

San Diego for a couple miles. Uh-huh. So we're in, like, we're, we're the teenage meat ninja turtles. Exactly. And, you know, the fact that I, sure, I facilitated it in the sense that I paid for it,

but also, you know, that I tapped his resources and his imagination, he's fucking Willy Wonka. Like Willy Wonka, the experiences indie designs can be dangerous, like, Once he helped a wife of a well-known author recreate a kidnapping scene from one of the author's books, they also can reveal something about your character.

According to Tony Hawk, Indy helped a high-profile couple after infidelity. Some big hip-hop artist, I'm not sure who or what it was at all, created this whole experience because he wanted to apologize or make up to... Indy did not want to talk about this job. And at every turn, she had to make a choice. And Indy also designs rituals for things we all go through, like a coming-of-age ceremony for a 13-year-old boy. They stranded him alone on an abandoned island with a backpack, food, and a flare.

And he designs funerals. That's really where it all started. I met Indy Austin in our slate offices in New York City back in June. It doesn't take that long to learn he is a lot. obsessed with locks and keys and scan spaces that could be used for experiences. Like when we gave him the key card to give him access to the bathroom, he took his time to see where else in the building it would work. When he came back, he said sneakily, this opened so many doors. When we sat down to talk for the interview, he presented me with a present, a little metal thing that was

about the size of a credit card with different grooves cut out. He had to explain to me, I could use this to pick all kinds of locks. I brought this to give to you in a way to show you that I'm giving you permission to unlock something. Oh, okay. Oh, okay. Yeah. Or, well, if we're going to unpack. I thought you were just letting me break more rules.

Great. Oh, that's great. So, but here's the thing. I don't want to tell you that in advance, that's what's happening. Yeah. That's just how I, that's where that is coming from in me. Okay. And this is a great example of how I work, which is I won't normally tell you what I think it means to me.

I'll let you have your own experience of it. But to me, I'm thinking, okay, I'm going to talk to someone. I don't know. Let them ask me a bunch of questions I don't know. How am I approaching that? And my approach is, I'm going to see if we can unlock something. I don't, or, you know, we're going to get in. I don't know what it is.

Cool. But maybe there's somewhere we go. That's great. Thank you. My pleasure. Will you describe what you do? I call myself an experienced designer, which of course immediately makes people ask, what is that? It almost sounds like a tech job.

It sounds like a user experience job. Yeah, it's a good smokescreen. There's no formalized field that is experienced design for real world in person. things. So we don't have a convenient container for it yet. Isn't that interesting? We have a word for performance art.

So if there's like something artificial and artifice happening in real life, we have that word. If it's an event, we have an event designer or event planner. But experience is different because it's,

well, how is an experience different from an event? So one way of saying it. You could say that every event is something that you can experience if you're being present for it. But a thing that I'm always trying to make is something that isn't just an occurrence out there in the world, but is an occurrence inside you in a way that matters to you personally. Yeah. The first thing I want to know about of all of the different things that you have designed, Can you tell me about designing experiences around funeral rituals?

Like, how did you first work on some kind of ritual for celebrating the life of somebody after they were gone? So I grew up near a town in southeast Alaska where a little village out in the islands that had very powerful funeral traditions. My parents are, my mother's playing the piano and my father's playing the cello and I'm singing. And these funerals would go on for many, many hours, be really long. So long that a meal would be served in the middle of it. People would be taking naps. Then there would be dancing. Then there would be more music.

Then there'd be really long speeches. Then there'd be even more speeches. Then speeches would come after the speeches. And then there'd be more music. And like, we might sing several times throughout this and then just be like hanging out in this, you know, giant funeral tradition. How should I understand, like, the faith tradition that these certain funerals were a part of? That village that I grew up near is a Clinket native village. That's the tribe is Clinket, and it is probably about 80% native, maybe.

Is your family indigenous? No, no, no. My family is a classic American Catholic combination of Irish. an Italian. Uh-huh. In the 70s, my parents decided they wanted to move out to the woods, which was a thing that was happening a lot at that time. Kind of like a back-to-the-land tradition, like hippie sort of infused vibe in your family?

Okay. And this is the community you grew up in. Yes. How many people? Usually about 60, 70 people, something like that. Small. Yeah. How many kids were around?

Not many. Most of the time, a lot of the time when I was a kid, it was just me and a lot of adults So this is a huge part of your life because then if there's a lot of older people in the community, I mean there were funerals were part of what happened in life. You showed up. You

were a part of this ceremony. You had a role to play, but other people played other roles. I mean, if you think about it, there's more funerals than there are weddings. But actually, let me tell you, let me skip ahead to adulthood. Like, I didn't know I was going to like, I don't know, that funnels would continue

to be important. I mean, it's amazing. Everyone we know dies at some point and or you do first. So funnels are a really important part of your life, but do you spend a lot of time thinking about all the funerals you're going to attend of all the people you love?

You want to spend time thinking about all the fun stuff you're going to do together. So I went to a funeral that was for a friend of mine who died young and his mother was kind of running the funeral. And I think in her grief, what made sense to her was to have this funeral be

all about Jesus. It was a super Jesus-centric funeral. Which maybe makes sense if Jesus is your thing. It's what made sense to his mother. But as his friend, sitting in the audience, I remember being horrified at how

this didn't actually honor him or if he was like a, you know, a vowed atheist. And he would have been horrified if he'd seen what we were saying in his name. And I didn't blame his mother. I made sense where she was coming from.

But I just remember thinking, oh my God, but there's such a missed opportunity to actually honor who this person actually was and who he was for who he was. The first funeral Indy ever designed came a few months after his friends. He got a letter from a woman who was dying and she wanted help to plan her funeral.

After talking, they decided that she would like to throw a big party after she was gone. It was simple and special. Over the years, Indie's funeral planning has gotten more elaborate, like the one for a lawyer in New York City who had brain cancer. This man wrote me, and he said, I don't have any family members. I have like one cousin somewhere who's been, everyone else in my family is gone.

I have no immediate family. But I have a board game group. And it's five of my buddies, and we've been playing board games ever since. We were in college. He said the first weekend freshman year, in our freshman year dormant college, we all met and started playing board games, and we've been meeting now every year since.

And we spend one weekend of the year, and we all get together. At this point, they're all scattered around, but they get together and play board games. And he said, I'm going to be the first one to die, and those guys are going to miss me. But they're not going to want to, like, go to the, cemetery with a shovel of dirt

and I don't, you know, or whatever that is. He was like, so the normal stuff doesn't make any sense. Can you make something? I was like, absolutely. We can absolutely make something. So, he lived maybe another six months, I think.

And the next, at the next board game night, after you died, the five friends gathered, it was here, that was also here in New York. and a messenger came to the door with a box.

And they opened the box, and inside there was a game. It was a board game. I would say it kind of looked like, it sort of looked like a monopoly board in that it was square. You unfold this cardboard thing, and it's square, and there's spaces around the outside, and you have little pieces and some dice and their cards. And sort of, if you're picturing the face of a monopoly board,

it's kind of what it looked like. but as they started to play, it became the game mechanisms of every board game that they had played together over the years, a little piece taken from every different board game. And as they drew cards, it became stories of their time together. And as they went around the board, they went backwards through time,

and backwards through all the games that they'd played over the year. all the way back until by the end of the board, they were back in their freshman year dorm, meeting each other for the first time on that first night. And when they were done playing the game, the end state of the game was the final instructions were fold up the board and put it back in the box. And there was a secret compartment in the bottom of this big wooden box.

And in the secret secret compartment, there were his ashes and a collapsible shovel. and his final wish was that they take the box into Central Park in the middle of the night and dig a hole under this particular tree and bury the box, which we're absolutely not supposed to do. And that's what they did. The whole box that included the board game? Yes.

They played the game one time, and then it was buried with him. Do you feel comfortable sharing what the process was of making that with him? Yes, absolutely. Like how you sat with him, you gathered the stories, you thought about the mechanisms of the different games with him. Yes. He was in pretty good shape. And so as soon as we came back to him and I said, I think the thing is a game. Like, what is your funeral?

Obviously, it's a game. So what is this board game? And it was his idea that it was all the games that they'd played. And so we took game mechanic. He made a huge list of all these games, and we kind of placed him by year. He was like, okay, well, this game came out in this year. We tried it for the first time. We hated it.

And here's why we hated that game. It was terrible. I was like, great, we can use that. We're going to use that piece. Or this other game, we keep replaying this one over the years because actually it's really good. Okay, well, let's take some of the mechanisms of that. We ended up with a thing that was so complicated. There's no way I could ever play it or you could play it.

You had to be the people. These game dudes. Yeah, you had to be these board game, you know, like mega board game nerds who really knew all the intricacies. Or who could remember it would be like, oh, that game we played back in 2004. That was a terrible game. And here's why it sucked. Oh, yeah. We're going to use that.

You know, that's a good example of it being particular and peculiar for them. Because also, like, I wasn't there. Yeah. I only know about how it went. Oh, yes. No one else is there. You didn't get to witness them playing the game. That's correct.

It wasn't for me. It wasn't for anyone else. That's a good example of like, sometimes you're making a thing and you aren't supposed to be present for it. That's fine. I don't need to be there. Like, it's for the people it's for. Maybe that sometimes includes me. But a lot of times it doesn't.

I want to go back now. I want to be able to understand a little bit more of the through line of, so you're a child in a very small, rural community in southeastern Alaska. Did you have the sense as a child that you weren't going to stay there when you grew up? No. No, I was in a world that was a complete and total world. What I didn't know was that my parents were world builders, and I was living inside a world that they had built.

Can you tell me what you mean by that? Sure. I grew up inside a performance that was my parents' performance of the end of the world. So it was the reason they moved to Alaska was because the apocalypse was coming, and they were going to prepare for the end. Coming up, Indy talks about the ideology in his parents' doomsday cult and what it took to leave. When you left, did it feel like you were running away? No. No, it felt like failure. It felt like I failed. I had my whole community and my family and all my people and I couldn't make something for them or I couldn't meet them where they needed to be met. This is death sex and money from Slate. I'm Anna Sale. Indy Austin says his family was part of a cult called The Move. It's a non-denominational Christian group founded in the 1960s around the idea that the end times were kids.

coming. It was every piece. It was every part. Sometimes it was brimstone. Sometimes it was fire. Sometimes it was the government. Sometimes it was everybody. It's everything.

You grew up in a strong, closed system with a particular worldview and there was a lot of fear. Is that right? Yes. That is a great observation. Yeah. That's a very fear-based perspective on the world. Did you feel afraid? I did not personally feel afraid.

Is that what you thought, is that what started to kind of create the gaps? Well, like, when you're a kid, you're not, like, looking forward to everything ending. Everything's beginning. And you're like, how do I start stuff? And where do I go? Like, I want to make things.

That feels like a beginning. And that's a very different perspective than... So I was always aware that I didn't, share my community's perspective on how to look at the world because I wanted to start things and I felt optimistic. I don't know why exactly, but I felt optimistic about maybe making things. Was there a break from you, between you and that community at a certain point? Oh, absolutely.

Like a discrete break or was it a long, drawn-out? Both, but there was a, yeah, there was a discrete break. There was a, yeah. How old were you? I was 17, and then I went back when I was 19. And I said, you know, I'm going to give it six more months. I'm going to try. Why isn't this working for me?

Why can't I do it? I see a bunch of other people can do it. Why can't I do this? All your people. Yeah. Like your people you love. Those are my people. This is my family.

Why do my family do it? And I can't do it. What's wrong with me? That's what it felt like. And I went back. I spent six months. I committed to six months. I said, I'm going to go back.

I'm going to try again. And I'm going to commit to six months to make sure I know that I'm not just like following some bad mood that day. By day two, I knew it wasn't going to work. But I spent all six months because I'd committed to it. And I was like, I'm sticking this out. And then I left. And then that was the last time. Yeah.

Then I really left. Where did you go when you left? The first thing I did is I got a job with the four. service. Classic Alaska job. It's a great job. We were flown to work every day in a helicopter, was hiking around on top of mountains. It was an awesome job. And then, you know, I went to some of the nearest places. I went to Anchorage for a little bit. I went to Anchorage, Alaska, a little bit. I went to Seattle for a bit. And, you know, not too far away, places I could find a job. Turns out growing up in the bush means you have lots of handy skills.

Yeah, you're not useless. No. And turns out everyone needs something built. or made somewhere. Wait, like what? Like, you know, I got a job renovating apartments, and it turned out they really liked me because I could do almost every single piece of the thing. I could replace windows, I could replace the trim,

I could paint the thing. I was like, well, I can swing a hammer, and I wasn't like, this is my life. But I was like, this is the next thing. Did you, in your 20s, did you find yourself sort of gravitating to different systems to try them? out like churches or?

No, not really. I mean, I briefly, I would occasionally eyeball other systems briefly. But very briefly. I wasn't like, I'm now lost without that system and have to get found or get saved or have some whole structure. I was like, I'm just going to move without the structure and find out. what happens? Because I was curious about that. I was like, am I just immediately going to start murdering and raping people without a system? What's going to happen?

Am I, is that? Turns out, no. Just because you don't have a system doesn't mean that there isn't some built-in, you know, human sense of what is right in the world or what is right for you. And it turned out. But there are some rules that you'll break.

Oh, lots. Absolutely, lots of rules. But the rules are mostly made up, and the rules are mostly something we get to choose about. And I feel that that's not like a burden to navigate. I feel like it's a privilege to get to navigate that and to get to play with. So most of the boundaries that we have in the world are,

we've all sort of collectively agreed or agreed to not think about them. We're really good at, I don't know, we're really good at just being a, river that carves a course. And once we have a deep channel, you just keep flowing in the same channel of thought that you've always flowed in.

That's super easy to do. I didn't want to be stuck in the river. I was like, how do I find the edge and climb up and stick my eyes over the edge of this channel that my mind has carved? How do you get out of your own mind

in your own space? And the answer to that for me was through generosity. Okay, tell me about that. I found that I hadn't, I felt really powerless when I was, so for example, when I was leaving my community, I felt really powerless. Or at other times in life, I felt often, felt very powerless. And in those times, I found that one of the things that really worked for me was to act

with generosity towards things that maybe didn't deserve the generosity. someone you hate, if you can be generous towards them or someone who hates you, if you are generous towards them, they have no power over that part of the thing that you control. You, weirdly enough, are outside of all of their jurisdiction when you're acting with generosity. You're taking your power back by giving away things. Yeah, yes. Can you give me like a concrete example of when you first started to see like, oh, this is a hack here.

If I can figure out how to be generous in this interaction or this relationship, like what was one of the first things where you gave it that name? Okay, I think I can name, I think I'd make a name an early example. I had a moment in my early 20s where I was with a group of friends

and I was tired of, my problems or being feeling stuck in my head. And I found that making a generous surprise for my friends was, I don't know why I initially started doing that, but I think I did that because I was just curious. I was like curious to how they would react. So first there was curiosity. And then my friends experiencing the surprise

and me seeing their joy at having something small but generous made for them. Like that made me realize that the entire time and process that I'd spent, making this little surprise for them, that was all time in which I was, like, really alive. I think we call that flow state. I wasn't worried about my problems,

and I wasn't in any state of fear. And so there was a moment where the house that my parents built in the wilderness of Alaska that was only meant to last five years, because the end was coming, I started to fall into the swamp. The foundation rotted because it was just a bunch of stumps. My father built the house.

It was built on a bunch of stumps. Well, 25 years later, the stumps were rotting, and the house was falling into the swamp. And that was a moment where I wasn't on speaking terms with my parents, but I decided that I was like, you know, here's the thing I can do. I can go back and put a foundation under their house. and that is an act of generosity that I can do, that they won't have any control over how I get to give

and what I'm giving. And that's the only way I know to work on repairing our relationship. And so I spent a summer. That was the first time I went back to Alaska, and I spent a summer crawling through the mud under my parents' house, dragging giant beams into the trenches, jacking the entire house up. and then pouring a cement foundation and setting the house back down on the cement.

Personally rebuilding the foundation of your family home. Yes. It's very on the nose. Yeah, kind of. Coming up, Indie finds a home in New York City, and he tells me about a current project he's working on. It's one that has sparked a lot of conversations for me around the dinner table. How would you feel if you found out that your friends were paying,

paying for someone to secretly create good luck for you for six years. Yeah, we had a lot of long conversations about what the ethical boundary was. Indy Austin moved to New York City in his late 20s. He said he was immediately attracted to the energy and also to the sense that there were places to uncover and to infiltrate boundaries to be played with. I'd never been to a place where I was like, oh, there's space here. to make something. I think part of the

exploring what this place is as a foreigner to the city definitely is just physically moving around through the city but part of it is exploring what people's norms

and rules are and it's very interesting to see who cares about what and so on some streets it doesn't matter matter what buildings are on the street, there's like an eagle-eyed old lady sitting in the window, you know it.

And she knows everything that's going on in the street and there's nothing like she is watching. Other streets, though, no one's watching and no one cares. So I'd be like, why? And I couldn't always tell why. It wasn't obvious to me why one should be in one place versus the other. So number one, I was just like, who cares about what? and the moment you start asking yourself who cares about what you start seeing all the cracks in the gaps and there are cracks in the care all over the city and when you go into those cracks that's where you find space to make transformation happen or space to bring some love and attention and that love and attention is really transformative and really powerful do you remember the first experience that somebody

offered to compensate you for that you did? Wow. No one's ever asked me this question. I think it was this guy who came to a friend's birthday party where I had done a tiny little

photo scavenger hunt thing, a little miniature version of these scavenger hunts that we would do get a bunch of friends together and we'd do these photo scavenger hunts where everyone gets a little disposable camera and 10 captions to photos that don't exist yet. and then we'd send them out into the city

and then I'll congregate back at somebody's apartment and go through all the photos Oh my God, how fun. So like an example would be, a caption would be like, look how many fit in here. Something like that. And this guy came to one of these things,

just a fun thing we're doing for friends. And he was like, can you do like a birthday party? And I said, no, I don't think so. I said, no. He said, I'd love to hire you to do it. this birthday party. I said, I don't think so. But maybe there is something you need that I could make. And then we talked about it and it ended up that what he really wanted wasn't a big birthday party. He really wanted to do something special for a girlfriend. And I was like, I can help you

make a really good gift. But that process, I didn't know I was doing a design process. I was just having to talk to figure out what the thing was. But that actually turned out to be what. what a design process is, where you spend time with someone to actually learn what they really need or where they wish to end up, or how they want the people to feel when they're done. And usually people can answer those questions. Usually people know, oh, I want my people to feel this kind of way.

Or I hope, my hope is this kind of feeling. And almost always you can engineer a path towards that state. I live in the Bay Area, And I hear the word design a lot around. Can we find a better one? Well, I think that thing that I'm sort of struck by after hearing you talk is as a designer, like you are how different the manifestation of what you design what it is because you have generosity at the core instead of designing for clicks or growth or. And so it makes me curious just how you, when you're around like tech people who talk about design and I imagine you think about design thinking and a lot of that comes out of the tech world, are they people with whom you feel camaraderie?

Do you feel like you're on the other side of the fence from them because you don't share sort of fundamental values? How do you feel? Oh, I am fundamentally part of the resistance. You are? Oh, absolutely. Yes. Like... Do you feel like you're studying their tools to, like, be part of the resistance?

No. No, their tools are not very useful. Okay. No, their tools are about getting. I don't know. I'm not Amish. I use a phone when I need to, or I'll use tech as necessary. But there's very little...

used to learn about tools that are attempting to get, I think for me. I almost never feel inspired by tools that are designed to capture your attention, to take something from you, to convince you of something. I grew up with weapons-grade attention-capturing tools, and so most of the tech stuff doesn't resonate for me. If it had any generosity at its core or any connection to beauty, maybe there'd be something there.

But most of the tech stuff that comes out of the Bay Area is remarkably uninterested in beauty and remarkably uninterested in creating something generous in the world. Did you have to figure out, This is a crass question, but I'm just curious. Go. Having done it as a way of caring for your community

or the way that you socialized and then it becomes something that you're selling, how did you figure out your rate? Number one, I'm not selling the thing. People are coming to me and asking me to do something for them, so I'm not like... You're not out hustling. Or it doesn't...

The hustle's very different. It doesn't work like that. I'm not like specifically attempting to get a lot of new clients. I'm trying to make work for the people that I can really make a difference for and that isn't everybody and it shouldn't be

I once gave someone and once told someone that I thought what they really needed was to go on a cruise take a Disney cruise and it was true it was truly what I actually a designed experience I thought this is actually what you should do

they were like no but what are I supposed to want the artisanal bespoke thing and I was like I don't know I think actually you'll get everything you need from that cruise. They had a great time on the cruise. Do you, when you are approached by paying clients, like, how much work do you say no to? And is there a pattern to what you say? Like, I don't need to do that. I don't think there's any real pattern, but I have some personal formulas or something or like

criteria, which is not always necessary, but I have them if I need them. So sometimes someone comes to me and they want something. And it's not clear to me. if it's something I can contribute to or not, or I don't know what the path in is yet. And so then I start asking myself some questions, or I can ask them some questions. So for example, I know, just off the bat, that I'm very motivated by generosity.

I love place. So things that arise out of place are really potent. Intimacy is very important to me, and I love making intimate experiences, even if they're large scale. So sometimes we make something for thousands of people. but there'll be real intimate moments in it. And, of course, transgression.

Transgression. If people are willing to transgress, it doesn't have to mean physically. I think trespassing is really easy to point to because it's very photogenic. More complicated to talk about is other kinds of transgression. So, like what? Emotional transgression or perhaps consent transgression. An experience Indy is working on now plays with, consent. In 2019, he was approached by a group of friends.

This woman came to me and said, I've got a friend who is really depressed, and she has really terrible luck. Is she depressed because she has terrible luck, or does she have terrible luck? Because she's always depressed. A little chicken egg. They asked ND to make their friend a party. It seems like the first experience people usually ask for, and the one Indie, he says no to the most frequently as a party. Indy thought about it and proposed something different to focus on changing how their friend perceived her life. I think the way to do this is long-term.

So if we made some luck occur in her life, in some respect it feels to me like luck is actually just pretty mechanical and procedural. And for example, like, if you had an uncle who, like, had some good connections to the thing, and your uncle was just like, hey, I got you hooked up with the thing, the tickets to the thing, you'd be like, wow, I'm so lucky. But, like, no one else has got that uncle. You just happen to have the uncle.

Wow, that's great. But that's like some coincidence you can't control. But maybe I could pretend to be the uncle for this person and hook them up with some stuff. And maybe it would have that sensation of feeling like you're really, Fortunate. Things are going your way. Maybe. I'm only guessing. But I said, if you will commit to funding this for six years, I'll commit to doing it.

And what we'll do is we'll make serendipity, good luck, happen in the life of your friend. But you can't tell her that you're doing this to her until year six, you have to decide. and then you have to decide whether you tell her or don't tell her and how. And then the very first thing, the very first thing we did, they were like, she has a terrible job. Her boss hates her and is horrible. And she was a designer who's working with this company that was awful. You've heard of them and they suck.

And her friends were like, she's too depressed to get a new job. and she doesn't believe that like anyone would hire her blah blah blah. I was like, that's got to be so easy. I was like, we can fix that. Of course I didn't know what I was talking about, but they knew that. I'm making something for the first time,

and it's new for me, and it's new for you. We're both going into a journey into a thing that neither of us has done before. You're agreeing to try, but you don't know what the outcome will be. Yeah. Well, we have an outcome we're shooting for. I was like, this is super logistical.

We hire the person, who rewrites her resume and makes it look good. You can just hire that person. And then we made sure that the resume got in front of, like, the people who needed to see it, and those people forwarded it to some other people. And eventually, one day, she just gets a call from this company. It's like, hey, we saw some of your work.

We think you look cool. Want to just come talk to us? Okay. She went and talked to them. They were like, you're great. You're hired. It's interesting because that could be perceived as care, and it can be perceived as like manipulation.

Yes, okay. So now you're getting into some of the ethical and philosophical issues here. So is it, or at what point is it no longer caring to make a surprise for someone that you are lying to them about? And people do this all the time, where you're making a special surprise. and so you're not going to tell them what's happening on the birthday on the special thing. But then what happens if you extend that for two years

and now you're keeping a secret for two years? What happens if you extend that for six years? Is it still okay? Is it beyond some boundary for you? And also, what happens when she finds out, is she going to think that all her friends really love her or is she going to think that all her friends are super manipulative? How is it going to read?

One of the things I decided was that I didn't ever want to do anything to her. we can make opportunities available, but if she doesn't bite, then maybe it wasn't for her. We've done some, you know, we did some amazing things for her. It was really...

How many years then? Six. When's the decision? Almost, almost. Very soon. Wow. Hmm. Do you want them to tell her?

I don't think I get to want one way or the other way. I don't, or I don't want to have to want. I don't want to have to, I think it isn't my decision and it shouldn't be. And I know if I start wanting, I might unconsciously start influencing them one way or the other, and I don't want to steer them. They have to decide how their friendship works and what that looks like and what that means for them. Have there been, when you think back on your body of work, have there been unintended consequences that you just didn't foresee as a designer? Always. I think always. And are, like, are there any of that sort of haunt you?

Oh, absolutely. But the ones that haunt me the most are like, like the ones where I lost friendships, where I feel like we went through this experience together and some part of how we grew in going through this experience may just grow apart. also there's another unintended consequence that I think experience a lot which is it's so good people want more of it and don't know to like not want too much of it because how do you draw that boundary exactly and so people are like hey can we stay here always can we be here forever or can we have this all the time or this was so good what if this is what I do forever and this is the thing so I think sometimes the only difference between some of my work and And what I realized my parents were doing is that I have end states and end time and end dates on my things. Everything I make ends.

That's why I love the magic circle. That's why I love the space in which the rules are different and the rules are particular. And then we go in there, wherever that is. We describe the boundaries of the thing. Now I'm talking about experience design theory. But anyway, we go in there, we spend some time in there, and then we come back out. When you say magic circle, I'm like, what does that mean? What are magic circles?

You're reminding me of when I was a child, I went to summer camp, and I was one of those kids who just bawled the last night of summer camp because I didn't want it to end. Right. But of course, the reason it was precious was because it was ending. Much like human life. Yeah. Exactly.

Like, I can't remember the last day of third grade or fourth grade or sixth grade, but I can remember the physical feeling of like hugging my, tent mates and bawling and appreciating what it was we shared because it was ending. That's very human. Often in my tiny bar,

my little three-person bar. Toll booth bar, right? Toll booth, yeah. Often in the tiny three-person three-sum toll booth. You know, we have a magical time together. We have some really good cocktails.

And there's just the three of us. And you're like, I don't want to leave. I want to stay here. This is actually perfect. And I empathize with that. And I also think that's really important to not spend the rest of your life lost, trapped inside the toll booth. The toll booth.

That's Indie Austin, an experience designer living in New York City. And thank you to skateboarder Tony Hawk for being game to talk to us about Indie too. This episode was produced by Zoe Aguilay. Thank you also to Jeremy S. Bloom and Stefan Zenoch. You heard a little of the music Stefan composed to accompany Indies experiences, one in the sewer, another on a tugboat. The rest of the episode, as always, was mixed and engineered by Andrew Dunn. Cameron Drews is also on the Death Sex and Money team. Daisy Rosario is our senior supervising producer. Mia Lobel is the head of Slate podcast, and Hillary Fry is Slate's editor-in-chief.

You can support the production of our show by joining our membership program, Slate Plus. And I hope you will if you haven't already. You get bonus episodes of our show and other Slate shows like Decoder Ring and how-to. And you also can listen to Slate's full podcast catalog ad-free. Subscribe directly from the Death Sex and Money show page on Apple Podcast or Spotify or visit slate.com slash DSM Plus to get access wherever you listen. Our theme music is by the Reverend John DeLore and Steve Lewis. If you're new to our show, welcome, we're glad you're here. Find us and follow us on Instagram at Death Sex Money.

I write a weekly newsletter. You can subscribe to it at anasail.substack.com. And you can reach us any time at the show with voice memos, pep talks, questions, or critiques at our email address, DeathSexmoney at Slate.com. We love hearing from you. Indy also told me that for one day in his life, life, he worked a desk job. It didn't last long.

I went to a temp agency. And they're like, okay, fill out this form. And then you are just going to be on call. Got a job where for one day I went and sat at a desk in the front of this really horrible booze company that was selling this pink vodka. And I spent a whole day sitting at this desk in front of a phone that never rang. No one came in. No one wanted this vodka. I went back to the temp agency.

And I was like, I think I'm in the wrong place. I did that job one day. As I left that job, they gave me a bottle of the pink vodka. They're like, you haven't tried it? I was like, well, I haven't been clubbing lately. I'm Anna Sale, and this is death sex and money from Slate.