No Show* // an exploration of the human condition

NO SHOW* Trend Report



To kick off our 2018 No Show* series, we explore curiosities around a topic that is both intimate and communal in practice: ritual. Over two sessions with leaders representing perspectives from the fields of technology, transportation, education, journalism, visual art and architecture, we dove deep into the role of ritual in generating meaning for our lives and its impact on our changing world. We gathered social change strategists, leaders in transportation, design experts, mindfulness entrepreneurs, architects, artists, and journalists, asking:  

// How do we understand ritual in the 21st century?

// Why do humans seek rituals? What role do they play in demarcating our humanity?

// How do we cultivate meaningful rituals for our personal and professional lives?

// How do we see ritual changing in the future?


Through a curated dialogue, we shared our personal and professional experiences with ritual, and investigated how it shapes the human experience. From describing intimate family rituals to interrogating cultural norms, we arrived at the following insights:

Ritual is the heartbeat of culture—and the arrhythmia of it.

// Ritual connects us to others. Communities are formed by ritual. The act of coming together to celebrate or mourn brings us together across space and time. How we gather, and at what frequency, defines our sense of community and family. It symbolizes who we are and who we hope to be in the future. Ritual can mark sorrow, celebration or serve an elemental need (e.g., the annual harvest). Our collective rituals become a cultural signal, to ourselves and to others, of what we stand for.

// Ritual cultivates a sense of safety. The daily, weekly or annual practice of ritual generates a sense of safety as it allows us to anticipate the familiar. The creation of ritual speaks to human’s desire to return to something known, often laden with memory and comfort.  

// Ritual connects us across time. Ritual connects us to the past, grounds us in the present, and is a marker of our aspirational selves. In this way, ritual has a multidirectional quality, linking us to generations past, and continuing legacies into the future. Humans hunger for this, a connection to our past, to something larger and more meaningful than our singular lives.


Ritual defines our values. More often than not our rituals are deliberate choices rather than traditions to which we subscribe. Our choices to engage in daily, professional or familial rituals indicates our human longing for meaning and deeper purpose, a trend we see most prevalent in more recent generations.


For Future Consideration...

Ritual harmonizes us across time and distance. Ritual is an inter-generational thread to spark connection with family and  community.

When rituals cease to exist. Changes in culture, climate and technology all have the potential to alter or eradicate rituals we take for granted today. How we reconcile the rituals we’ve practiced in the past with the ones we will come to know in the future will be determined both by our agency in regard to the ritual and, in turn, the strength of the ritual itself. Which rituals in our lives are at risk of changing or disappearing?


Bring more ritual into your life...

  • How might you incorporate weekly ritual practice into your work life? How could it shape your relationship to your team and the work itself? Does it create a legacy of meaning a community?

  • How can you use ritual to connect with loved ones across time and space? How does a gesture like honoring a deceased relative annually on their birthday translate their legacy to future generations?

  • What rituals do you choose to incorporate into your life, and which ones were predetermined for you? Is there a difference between the two? Does the agency to choose make those rituals more meaningful?

  • What do you know about your parents’ or grandparents’ rituals? How might you connect to their practices today?

  • Which rituals do you want to pass down to future generations? Imagine someone practicing that same ritual 20 years from now. What values remain?


*No Show is a collaborative project by Gershoni Creative and DIALOGUE, where we gather diverse minds to explore the human condition. We aim to use No Show as a space that grapples with issues central to society in hopes of building a more connected, caring, and innovative future. Additional insights on each topic to follow.

Interview: In Dialogue // Susan Olesek


Susan Olesek is a self-identified “human-potentialist.” Having developed a remarkably successful curriculum for soon-to-be-released prison inmates through her nonprofit Enneagram Prison Project, Olesek is now translating that work into executive development at Fortune 500 companies. In our conversation, we explored the journey that led her to take on the U.S. prison system and how approaching inmates as already high-potential helps them see it in themselves.


Voices: On Healing and Human Potential, a Dialogue with Susan Olesek


  Susan Olesek |   Photo credit: Vinobosh Photography

Susan Olesek | Photo credit: Vinobosh Photography

Your work at its core cultivates people’s potential to know themselves, which allows them to connect with others and the world in more positive ways. Was there something in your upbringing that shaped your understanding of human potential?

Very much so. When I was 12, my father was transferred to Hong Kong, and during the four and a half years we lived there, our family traveled extensively. One summer night in Bombay, I remember driving through the streets with kids putting their arms through our windows, begging for food. I was stunned by the disparity between myself and these kids. All I knew was that it was unfair. And for the first time seeing people prostituting and taking drugs in the street. Somehow it was always easier for me to recognize my similarities with the people I saw, even though our experiences were so vastly different. It was only a question of circumstance. So, even before I was really aware of it, I had an inclination, maybe even a tenacity, to see how we're all worthy, lovable.  


Tell me how you were introduced to Enneagram, the tool you’ve described as your passion, and how your work in the criminal justice system began.

I was first introduced to Enneagram as a new mother in a parenting class. The Enneagram made it clear to me how hard I was on myself. I mostly only saw what I lacked, which is why I felt I needed a parenting class! It was such a revelation to see that my view of myself was part of my personality structure. I am type 1, which is called the Reformer, which means that I'm wired to look for how to make things the best they can be. All aspects of our personality are filling of an emptiness in one way or another. So I came to understand that I was driven to reform the world, make the world enough, make myself enough.
After eight years of applying Enneagram to my own life, I was inspired to certify as a teacher. Shortly after completing my certification—I was teaching one class in my living room and one to a church—I was invited to teach in a small prison in Texas. I hadn’t planned to use the Enneagram for social justice, but this opportunity proved that I was already organized inside myself to see it that way. I had about 100 students, serving a variety of sentences. Some were in for murder, others for drugs, but they all had come down to the last part of their sentence and would soon reintegrate with the outside world.

They self-selected into a pretty tight group that had a lot of capacity and interest in change. That motivation enabled them to go deep with the Enneagram in a short period of time. It was so inspiring. I came away thinking, “Why isn't this tool everywhere? Why isn't it used in more places?”

And how did you come to create the Enneagram Prison Project, or EPP?

You have to understand some fundamental things about yourself. You have to be ready to take emotional responsibility for what happened around that pain, and with self-knowledge you gain the ability to self-regulate and focus.

I founded EPP as a nonprofit in 2012, around the same time I was trying to find my way into a local jail, here in California, so I could run a program similar to the one in Texas. It’s not easy to get access. The people who manage programs for their prison population want proof of commitment. They want to avoid programs that get started and quickly dropped. I didn’t have a lot of experience, but finally I found one program manager who let me make a brief presentation of Enneagram. I showed her a film I had made during the program in Texas, and between that and my passion about for the potential I saw in the inmates, she allowed me to present to 60 men, 12 of whom signed on for a 12 week program.

Those 12 men and I grew a lot together. As I mentioned, the Enneagram presents an opportunity to heal your relationship with yourself then take that into the world. In a teaching environment that healing takes place for both the teacher and the students. Part of healing involves each of us to ask about the pain inside us. We have to know about the pain, because it’s how we end behaviors that don’t serve us. But you can't just dive into your pain. That’s where the Enneagram comes in. You have to understand some fundamental things about yourself. You have to be ready to take emotional responsibility for what happened around that pain, and with self-knowledge you gain the ability to self-regulate and focus. And that was possible because the Enneagram levels the playing field; it doesn't matter where you come from, even with the disparate amount of power and privilege juxtaposed in a space like that. People are disempowered in so many ways that are very personal and that is what makes us similar.


EPP is now an international organization. How did your nonprofit evolve to that level in just six years?

Our project at the California prison lasted for two years. Along the way, I started to talk at International Enneagram Association, and I started to blog. A few people joined me and we worked together on the curriculum, experimenting with different elements of the training. My talks at conferences drew people to come observe the training in person. Someone came from Finland, and before we knew it, we were opening a program in a prison outside Helsinki. Then came the opportunity to teach at San Quentin. By focusing on the work and on the curriculum, we consistently achieved great outcomes with our students. These inmates want to know why they do what they do, and the Enneagram tool is clear and incisive. It answers those deep questions and offers guidance for what they can do with that information to change the course of their lives.


You give so much credit to the Enneagram tool, but you must certainly be a big part of why your program works so well. What do you bring personally to the classroom?

I’m always willing to be part of the healing that takes place in the classroom. That part never ends. And I wasn’t even aware of it, until David Daniels—one of the major developers of the Enneagram at Stanford—came in to observe my teaching. David noticed that a big piece of my work was my natural appreciation and love for my students. EPP allows me and all of our teachers to communicate that appreciation, that belief in shared human potential, which some students have not felt for a very long time, if ever. This makes it safe for them to show up in their highest potential, because we see them as that already.

Where do you see the future of your work headed?

Having worked with so many productive, intelligent, and creative inmates, I feel we are just starting a great movement. We’ve given several of our students scholarships to become certified Enneagram teachers. And after their release from prison, they are coming back into the institutions where they were imprisoned as the teachers. I was in the room when one of these teachers entered the classroom four years after doing 25 years as an inmate. It was profound. This African-American man, who was in one of the bloodiest gangs in LA, started in talking about being a type 9—that is the future.

I would love to see our work grow to include the correctional officers themselves. There are many institutions across Belgium where the wardens and the directors all know their Enneagram type. The more that people are willing to know themselves and bring that knowledge to their work, the higher functioning the entire institution becomes.


A version of this interview was originally published on Women@Forbes.


Interview: In DIALOGUE // Suchi Reddy


Suchi Reddy is CEO of her NYC-based architecture and design firm, Reddymade. Influenced by her mother’s love of materials and her father’s love of philosophy, Reddy’s spaces are defined, not by aesthetic, but by their ability to sustain and better the spirit of all who use them. In a recent conversation, we explored her approach to the fundamental question: “How do we make our world?”



What elements in your childhood influenced your current practice and how you've shown up in the world?

 Suchi Reddy // Photo Credit: Chloe Horseman 

Suchi Reddy // Photo Credit: Chloe Horseman 

When I was quite young, my mother, who had this intense affinity for materials, was in charge of overseeing the construction of our house with the architect and his team. In India it's very difficult to find pure white anything on the outside of a house, but she picked white flint for the exterior walls. I would play as a kid, striking stones against it to make sparks. I think growing up in a house while it was being built introduced this love of materials. It was like a subliminal seeding of the soul.

Because there was a lot of petty theft, we had grills on our windows, like other houses, but ours were more decorative. We also had these big sliding French doors that would always be open, which was a very unusual thing in India. But we could do it because we were also separated from neighbors by my mother’s large flower gardens. When you're a kid you don't realize that these things are special, but I have a clear memory of the moment I realized that I was different from my friends because my house was different. And that allowed me to always think about how space shapes our feelings about ourselves.

When you are designing spaces, how do you think about the human connection taking place in them? What kind of behaviors do you aim to bring out in the spaces that you create?

One of the greatest privileges of being an architect is that we get the opportunity to make spaces that serve and uplift people. That is something I take very seriously: the fact that the ideas we bring to a space actually shape what happens in it. It's like you’re trying to establish a kind of communication between the space and the people in that space. And even though the people don’t speak the language, they immediately understand it and respond to it.

Particularly for spaces that people use every day, I want that experience or communication to support them in different ways. So, practically speaking, it’s creating windows that allow them to see that the light is changing all the time, or it’s modulating the heights of ceilings — so that flowing from one room to the next, you change the feeling.

It’s like fashion, which to me is no frivolous thing. What you wrap yourself in is your first home. Then you move out of that into your room, then into your house, then into the world. And I think at each of these levels, your “house” can be made to sustain and better your spirit and your function. It helps you go out into the world breathing a little easier, less stressed about whatever you’re tackling.

Where do you see the practice of architecture headed, and what opportunities are you most excited about for your own firm?

I see architecture more and more incorporating sound and light and quality of air — generally, we want spaces that create a sense of well-being. I think it started with a focus on materials that are more sustainable and better for the planet. Now I see this idea of well-being translating into architecture and design on every level.

A big interest of mine is to try to quantify this aesthetic experience. In our data-driven society, we're already quantifying the experiences of our bodies — so it’s not such a stretch. For example, I know that people recovering from a serious illness pay close attention to how the space around them feels. I’m working now, in partnership with the Brain Science Institute at Johns Hopkins University, on designing a healing room for children who suffer from consciousness disorders, such as comas. The idea is to create sensory experiences in the room that put patients’ bodies at ease  — the opposite of dis-ease. I expect the room will also support the well-being of patient families and caregivers. It’s exciting to me to prove that the experience of a space has a measurable impact on the care and recovery of patients.

When you were starting your firm, how did you define your brand?

The brand question has been a very difficult one for me. In fact, I've never defined it. I think that the architectural response to any situation or challenge has to be something unique to that particular problem. You can bring your aesthetic but that shouldn't be what defines your response.

My hope is that instead of a brand, my firm can generate a reputation for thinking of the right solution to the problem.

Would you say that gender informs your work?

I don't think that gender informs my work. I have seen men and women architects show the same degrees of sensitivity to various things. I do think gender plays a role in the opportunities that come our way. Men tend to receive automatic attention for their ideas, so I would say a woman in this field really does need to work a little harder to be heard.

If you had to impart of three pieces of wisdom to an entrepreneur or another architect, what would you say?

Spend the time needed to develop your own compass, so you know which way it's pointing then follow that. One of the most distracting things in our world is the range of opportunity and influences that keep coming at us. You have to know your skill and what you have an affinity for to be able to keep your compass pointed in that direction.

Always stay creative. Always find space to play. Even in business, it’s essential to integrate a play into your work. If you do, there’s joy in it that stays alive for the long term. And in creative fields, like building an architectural practice, it’s long term. Other types of businesses are relatively short term: make x amount of money, sell the company, move on, do something else. That is a different kind of energy. When you’re in it for the long term, you need to keep it fresh and playful. Then when people come to you, they sense youa enjoy what you're doing and that you're going to enjoy their project.

Don’t be afraid to trust yourself. I truly believe everyone has inner power. It's not something that some people have and some people don't. The difference is people’s ability to trust it. Trusting yourself also makes you a better collaborator, because the clearer your voice is, the clearer it is to collaborate with others.

In our office, when we start to work on a new project, I like to have the entire team present, with everyone throwing out their ideas. The first idea thrown out is the first to be discussed. And it could be anyone’s idea. It could be an intern’s. That’s the kind of atmosphere I like to foster: all of these beautiful energies and passionate forces coming together.

The other really important thing to have on a team is dialogue: one person who says, "Hey, why don't we do this?” And another person who says, "Hey, we can't do that because..." Both views are vital. Fortunately, architecture school trains us well for this because you get taken down pretty brutally every time you present something. Inevitably someone says, ”Is that the only answer?" No, there are always other answers.


Parts of this interview were originally published in Forbes



Cheryl Haines is the Founder and Executive Director of FOR-SITE Foundation, principal of Haines Gallery in San Francisco, and focuses her efforts on the intersection of art, place, and purpose.  In our conversation, we discussed the importance of place in stimulating public introspection, and how she illuminates layers of human connection through her innovative projects that draw from the rich history of our landscape.




  Photography by Jan Sturmann

Photography by Jan Sturmann

Rimma Boshernitsan: What is a lesson your parents taught you that you carry into your current work?  

Cheryl Haines:
I’d say from an early age, my parents always taught me to question and to think independently. They taught me the value of community and that the generosity of spirit is incredibly important. Helping others is really why we’re here. Connection is human.

RB: How did your work with Haines Gallery evolve into the purpose-driven art you curate today?

CH: I opened Haines Gallery in 1987 and was working with a few artists at the time. I felt like I couldn’t do enough for them. One day I realized that what was lacking in my work was a connection to the public. I wasn’t giving the artist a public venue for their voices. I wanted to create a platform for art and a community of helping others.

From the very beginning, it was challenging to develop a successful financial model, but I think the reason it worked is because I didn’t follow any trends or fad or fashion. I mean, I’m well-informed about the international art market and who the successful artists are. I didn’t always choose to follow a straight path in what is recognized as the accepted model. I’ve always chosen artists that I personally believe in. I’ve always tried to connect the conceptual dots in a way that is sustainable for my own passions and intellectual interests. Though I care very much about sharing these ideas with the community, I’ve never really allowed the community to form them.

For me, having internal fortitude and a sense of commitment towards what’s important is critical in developing any business, whether it’s an art gallery, or a restaurant, or a high-tech firm. While this might be a slower process, I think it proves to be more sustainable over time.

RB: How does an emphasis on 'place' fit into your role as a curator? Can you share a bit about how this relationship informs your work with FOR-SITE?

Place informs it all, honestly. It’s funny how ‘art about place’ has become part of a lexicon. It’s been something that’s been part of our mantle for more than 20 years. In part, this type of language and practice of place-based art comes from living in San Francisco with such a diverse community.

My personal reflections on notions of place started when I began doing research on the Gold Rush. I discovered that it was one of, if not the most, diverse migration of peoples in human history. And it wasn’t due to a major famine or war or religious conflict -- people were called from all over the world to come here. Tracing how people have found their way and what this means for a particular area sparked my interest. I started seriously reflecting on the notion of place — physical, socio-political, psychological, geographic — and how it forms us as individuals.

This all informed my development of the FOR-SITE artist residency program in Nevada City. The foundation has 50-acres near the gorge of the South Yuba River, and is nestled up against the Sierra Foothills. We brought in Bay Area architect Michelle Kaufman to design the residences, mutable workshop and event space. I was immediately taken with the texture of it, not only the physical beauty, but the complications behind its very dark history. There was the eradication of the Native Americans and the violence of the mining camps. There is a residual darkness. You can see it in the landscape; there’s been quite a degradation of the landscape from the hydraulic mining, and there’s only a handful of Native American communities. It’s amazing to me how these things can coexist.

This awareness was combined with a very utopian, idealistic, back-to-the-earth, calm and spiritual existence in Nevada County and this tension has influenced the approach of our educational programs and the type of artists we invite for the residency program. There’s this incredible layering of natural and cultural history. It’s a very rich environment to invite artists to.

RB: At what point did you decide that the intersection of human rights and the arts resonated with you?

Activism can be a small gesture. It doesn’t have to be something grand. You don’t have to be a famous artist. You don’t have to be a major politician or a major philanthropist. A child can write a postcard and mail it and that’s just as important.

CH: I became quite involved with the Tibetan Human Rights Movement through Chaksampa, a Tibetan dance and opera company that I supported for many years as donor and board director. Through my position I gained a greater understanding of Tibetan culture: its history, the threat that it was under by the Chinese government, and the lack of international support they were receiving.

That was a turning point when I started considering the intersection of human rights and the arts. I wasn’t actively trying to meld the two interests or pursuits until just a few years ago when I started working with Ai Weiwei. Only then did I have access to a unique opportunity to combine my work as a curator and public presenter of projects with my interests in human rights.

RB: How would you say your awareness of ‘place’ guides your human-rights focused projects?

CH: We’ve only just started in many ways. Whether it’s Ai Weiwei on Alcatraz, using the lens of Alcatraz to talk about human rights, freedom of expression, the role that communication plays in creating a just society or it’s the World War II bunkers in the Headlands, at Fort Scott resoundant with presentations mining social injustice and “fear of other”.

Our latest exhibition at FOR-SITE, Sanctuary addresses the fear of “other” and the barriers that are being suggested to prevent immigration. The fact that it is placed in a nondenominational former chapel at a military base is crucial.  A place of repose of society and security - A suitable venue to unpack the issues surrounding refugee crisis of today.

RB: How do you personally engage with the public education aspects of your projects? Have there been any particular moments that have moved you?

I wanted the visitor to tell me how it’s affecting them, what they were thinking, what questions they had. I visit my projects often to seek greater understanding. Many times when people curate an exhibition, they’re done and they move on. I didn’t want to do that with this form of public engagement. The messages were too important.

@Large, Ai Wei Wei on Alcatraz provided a particularly fertile environment to interact with the visitor and learn from their experiences.  I would stand there quietly in the Yours Truly room, which contained postcards that we sent out to the Prisoners of Conscience in prisons around the world. A steady stream would come up to me and some of them would be crying, others would be children showing me their drawings saying, “I’m so happy to be able to do this.”

People would just hug me and say, “It’s one thing to go to a beautiful and impactful art exhibition, but if you walk away saying ‘What can I do? How do I address these overwhelming concerns about equality and freedom of expression and human rights around the world?’ You gave us a tool. You gave us an opportunity to engage ourselves, to pick somebody in Uzbekistan or China or the Congo and write to them and say congratulations for your courage. To say, ‘Thank you so much for standing up for your rights and all of our rights. We are thinking about you today.’”

RB: Can you say more about the Prisoners of Conscience project?

We sent out 94,000 postcards to Prisoners of Conscience in detention around the world after we’ve vetted it very carefully with Amnesty International to make sure that whichever people we were mailing to, it wouldn’t cause damage or it wouldn’t put them in any danger.

We heard back from Chelsea Manning. We heard back from John Kiriakou, the ex-CIA agent that out of the government on water boarding techniques. We heard back from a couple of the architects of Arab Spring, Ahmed Maher, Ahmed Domo. We heard back from Ibrahim Sharif from Bahrain and others that it was working and the communications were received.

The postcard project, Yours Truly, came from Weiwei’s father, Ai Qing. Not many people know this, but he was a very famous poet pre-cultural revolution of China, one of the most famous of his generation. When things started shifting politically there, he fell out of favor and he and his family were sent to a labor camp for 16 years in Northwest China near the Mongolian border where he was asked to clean public latrines. The entire process was incredibly demoralizing.

They lost everything. They were part of the intelligentsia. They were an important family. At one point, an anonymous postcard showed up in the mail on the anniversary of the publishing of one of his renowned poems. The postcard said, “Don’t worry, you have not been forgotten.” Weiwei remembers this story and shared it with me as the basis for Yours Truly.

RB: I keep getting goosebumps. This is amazing.

It is amazing. He remembered that postcard ever since. He’d never had a chance to address it before, but when this project started unfolding he full heartedly supported it. It is one thing to illuminate and honor people who are behind bars because of their political beliefs, yet it is different to actually reach out to them and tell them that they have not been forgotten. It is also a way to empower the individuals that visit the exhibit and write the postcard. Activism can be a small gesture. It doesn’t have to be something grand. You don’t have to be a famous artist. You don’t have to be a major politician or a major philanthropist. A child can write a postcard and mail it and that’s just as important.


RB: How do you spark such public dialogue through your work?

With @Large with Ai Weiwei, we had over 900,000 people visit the island. I would venture that maybe 25% of them at most were art world participants. Most of them were either tourists that were going to Alcatraz anyway and just happened upon this exhibition, or tourists that were going for both reasons.

By being accessible, we spark a public conversation around all these very important topics. We spark introspection. Weiwei inspired me. It is visible in his choice of Legos, for the Trace Project which was the Prisoners of Conscience that were displayed on the floor of the New Industry’s Building. For @ Large one of the many reasons he chose Legos was because it would be a material that would attract youth or the children that would come to the island. It would engage them in the art and poise them to ask questions.

Every project we do now, I think very carefully about how will young people be able to enter this conversation? What is it going to mean to them? How do we get them to ask questions about what’s being presented. It’s very important.

That’s the power of our work. It is the ability to walk that line between conceptual rigor, aesthetic refinement, and accessibility to all.



No Show* // an exploration of the human condition

NO SHOW* Trend Report



Purpose: the reason for which something is done or created or for which something exists.

As a force that directs action and moves both individuals and nations, the sense of purpose is a curious facet of the human experience. In the finale of our first year of No Show* 2017, we gathered to analyze and identify this invisible, yet powerful experience that shapes human decision-making, collective direction, and organizational cohesion.

In typical No Show* fashion, we wanted to hear from diverse perspectives to develop a rich environment for inquiry and exploration. We invited founders, journalists, designers, architects, elders, and innovation consultants together to examine the role of purpose in our personal and professional experiences. We asked:

// How does purpose impact our interactions?

// What characteristics defines collective purpose vs. individual purpose?

// Is there collective purpose that our individual purpose furthers? Is there intergenerational purpose within our civilization?

// How do we shape opportunities for people to achieve their purpose in the future?

  Photo by Gershoni Creative

Photo by Gershoni Creative

Through reliving childhood dreams, and following circuitous paths in search of meaning, we developed insight. Purpose, we learned, is not a destination, but a sensation that guides us. Purpose is the accumulation of questions and answers, a continual process of external knowledge and self discovery leading to new milestones and new directions. It changes over time and can mean pursuing a risky endeavor in one moment, or resting in stillness in another. It is shaped by the innovations of the moment, with the current frontiers of possibility influencing the next generation’s perception of purpose for the future.


Over the course of 2017, this series on the Human Condition has covered topics such as: Nourishment, Belonging, Attraction, and Creation. We aim to use No Show as a space to grapple with issues that are central to the challenges society, in hopes of building a more connected, caring, and innovative future. Additional insights on each topic to follow.