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Custom Huey Lewis Figure – photo by Tim Sutter
Note from photographer: This is my son’s custom Star Wars figure. He insists his name is Huey Lewis. When I asked why, he replied “Because”. Said he can collect garbage easier with his new prosthetic arm.
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Sonic Pavilion by Doug Aitken//
“So if silence is not possible, if a pure signal can never be achieved, a counter-project to the one of noise reduction emerges which is to amplify that background sound.
Such is the allure of the Sonic Pavilion by Doug Aitken – a mile deep boring into the earth with microphones and accelerometers at varying depths. We hear the sounds of the earth, of seismic plates shifting, of a background geologic hum, transposed to the range of human hearing.
This representation is not at all trying to hear anything, to cull any particular signal or data set. It is simply a project about listening. Listening for the sake of listening, for the pleasure of recording that which is buried, masked, and otherwise un-listenable.” – Nick Sowers, from his blog about sound and architecture, “soundscrapers”
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Ian McKellen should be the voice of everything ever.
Probably the single most badass thing about this is that he doesn’t crack himself up. Not so much as a single traitorous, unbidden upturn in the corner of his mouth.
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Have you ever wondered why Japanese design is so damn good? Here is the answer – the Japanese do not differentiate between fine arts and design like we do in the West. They treat both the artist and the artisan equally.
– From an interview. The Viridi-Anne.
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“It’s 95 degrees and the humidity is 80%. People don’t understand that. People see a man with a shovel in his hand working on a job site and think he’s lazy because he’s just standing there. What they don’t see is the struggle going on inside your brain. The part of you that has lived in the wild for millions of years is saying it’s too exhausting, it’s too hot, why don’t you go lay in the shade for a while. That part of your brain sees the shovel, sees the ditch, sees the pipe to be laid, and it doesn’t see how this is getting you food or sex. That other civilized part of you is saying, there is food and sex to be found in that ditch. You just need to hunch over that pipe for another 5 hours, and then for another three days, and then it’ll be this made up thing, Friday, and you’ll have this other made up thing, money. Then you can go out and eat and try to procure a mate.
You just need to clinch that shovel tightly for a little longer and you can get what you want. The little tribesman in your mind doesn’t understand this. Things were easier in his time. Sure you only lived to be 26, but if it was too hot you didn’t move, if some bit of fruit was too hard to reach you walked to the next tree and looked for lower fruit. There is no low hanging fruit left in this world though.
You hold that shovel and think if only I could bludgeon that little tribesman in my brain. Then I could be free to give myself to wage labor, free to force my body to do what it doesn’t want to. So when you see a man on the side of the road not moving just watching some machine manipulate earth, know that he may not be lazy, but just engaged in a struggle between a past that shaped us and a present that was made by us but not for us.”
I sometimes muse, with regret, that it’s difficult to describe what I do (for a living) to my parents. It’s not just them, I don’t have a soundbite for when I meet other people either. Usually, it’s understated, like, “design”. That’s with a lower-case d.
The quote is from a thoughtful Atlantic magazine piece called “What People Don’t Get About My Job:" http://bit.ly/pVKOnj
#Perspective #Insight #Reframing #Appreciation
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Infinitely more elegant than the ugly concrete causeways blocking my view of the water every morning. Suppose it was too expensive to tunnel the *entire* way under?
Wandering Wandering Star 