That last entry hasn’t been sitting well with me. It was truly felt and the theme was sincere, but I’m afraid it comes off too much like “oh yes, I’ve connected with a homeless person, now what a good citizen I am!” It’s like this well-meaning short story I wrote in my journal in 5th grade about the perils of racial prejudice. Just so mortifyingly naïve in retrospect, it pretty much nullifies any noble sentiments that were its impetus.
Indeed, I’d started digitizing all my old journals, finally (something I’ve been meaning to do for years, thanks to my mania for archiving and an obscure nagging fear of losing my personal written history in some kind of unforeseen disaster). I got through the all of the first volume and half of the second and I came to that story — sandwiched between my feelings about Edgar Allen Poe’s melancholy oeuvre and laments about almost by not quite being asked to some dance. I had to stop transcribing. I was too embarrassed to read this story aloud into MacDictate, even alone in my bedroom, and to save it into a digital file no one would ever see. I mean, I used the word “Negro” repeatedly, for heaven’s sake. Granted, this was the early 80s, the term “PC” had not yet been coined and I had far more experience with 19th and early 20th century literature than with real life cultural and racial diversity.
All this is to say that I’m all very well-meaning, but there are still things I’m not necessarily sophisticated enough to write well or meaningfully about. Give me a few more decades.
This isn’t a review of Scott Belsky’s book Making Ideas Happen — because I’ve only read 4 pages of it so far. I’m going to read the other pages, I believe, it’s just that I haven’t yet. A few things have slowed my progress: the book is made out of paper — indeed, it’s a hardcover even. Thus, the book is not on my phone or my Kindle when I’m floating about looking to read a page or two. Also, said physical book has a dust jacket with weird, rough-feeling varnish, which kind of freaks me out and every time I pick it up, I spend some time thinking about this varnish choice. Finally, the cover uses the graphic trope of puzzle pieces in the jacket design, which I find shocking — for its designer to have even suggested something so hackneyed is shocking, but to have had it accepted by the multiple parties no doubt involved and have it go through all the way to production is just downright odd and disturbing. I thought we all had gotten over the puzzle pieces as the best visual metaphor ever thing a long time ago, like in the late 80s. But I digress. Actually, I haven’t even begun anything from which to digress.
In the few pages of the book that I have read, Mr. Belsky posits that lots of people, especially creative ones, have lots of ideas, but the problem is that people don’t follow through on these ideas. (Thus the book is about how to do so.) That sounds very right and true to me. Seth Godin talks about something similar all the time.
Today, this all happened in real life.
So, generally, I sit my office. I do my design stuff. Sometimes I have ideas, such as for art projects, or weird computer applications that have to do with poodles, or infographics or social movements, but usually I just sit in my office and keep doing my design stuff. Sometimes I write the ideas down on my whiteboard or one of many physical and electronic lists that swirl around me in billowing clouds.
Last year, I had this idea, to turn this historic tower in my town into a camera obscura. I don’t know where this idea came from exactly — a combination of wanting to do a community-centric art project, a love of building cameras, an appreciation of Abe Morell’s and Jo Babcock’s work, a general spirit of “hey, I should make some art!”.
This time, I actually acted on the idea, at least so far as applying for a grant to do the project from my local arts organization. I got the grant. And guess what! This means I have to Make the Idea Happen.
So, I’m doing this art event tomorrow. All week I’ve been emailing people I love and like but never bother to reach out to (because I’m reclusive-ish). Many have written back!
Today, I left my office and went to do some preparation. First I went to the Arts Council’s office to get a key to the building that will house my camera. In doing so, I went to a neighborhood of my town I’d never been in before, I found out about all these different city offices that are housed over there and I met someone new from the Arts Council. I already felt more civically engaged — and it was only 11 am.
Next, I went to the site where I’ll make the camera and set a few things up. While I was doing so, a bunch of people — from families to tourists to a group of developmentally disabled teens on a field trip — came up to me and asked questions about the historic building and what I was doing. I was able to let them see inside the usually locked structure, which made them really happy. All people I’d never talk to usually, especially if I stayed in my office. Chock up another few points for community engagement.
Then I went and walked around the neighborhood and put up some posters for the event. I talked to a man at the bus stop who was ranting about wanting 50¢ and giving people who wouldn’t give it to him a really hard time (I gave him 50¢ and he didn’t say thank you. Hmf!) I talked to a Haitian mum and her daughter at another bus stop. A sporty young woman walking by smiled at me as I sat on the grass playing with my masking tape. All of this does not happen on usual days. In the office.
And guess what! It was kind of energizing. Yeah, big deal, talking to a few random strangers, but the thing of actually DOING an art project, of engaging with the people in my neighborhood (sing to the tune of the Mr. Rodgers’ song) really, actually was quite nice. I’m excited about tomorrow. If you’re reading this and in the area, come by! There’s more info about the project here.
OK, this is all very simple, even naïve, but I think I am starting to get it. Think I’ll make a point of making more ideas happen.
Don’t expect this post to have some clever point. It doesn’t. I just wanted to share some verbal curiosities.
1.
Word: Leguminous Citation: “My ideal is to always have the beans ready to pick shortly after the peas are finished, for a continuous leguminous harvest.”
Meaning:Plentiful in legumes Source: Farmer Dave in Farmer Dave’s Community Supported Agriculture Newsletter
2.
Word: Understep (variant, Undertrod) Citation: “Kitty Kitty sure likes to understep you when you give him food he doesn’t like.” Meaning: To purposely get under foot, as in cats Source: Me, discussing Kitty Kitty’s dislike of Peas with Salmon flavor food with my gentleman friend
3.
Damn, I forget what #3 was, and it was good too. I’ll let you know if I remember.
Word: Disorienteering Citation: “There should really be a word in English for when you go walking in the woods and you think you’re going to come out in a certain place, but in fact, you’ve circled back to where you started. Oh, that should be ‘disorienteering’”. Meaning: See above Source: Me again, talking to my gentleman friend on the phone, who was engaged in said activity in the wooded portion of an office park
4.
Word: Grossfruit Citation: “Gross grapefruit. Grossfruit.” Meaning: Um, a gross grapefruit. Source: Elizabeth Gale (@drinkerthinker) on Twitter
Back when I lived in Canada, which was a really long time ago, in 1992 or 93 or something like that, I found out that at the liquor store, which is provincially run and called the LCBO, at least in Ontario — like in that Sloan song (listen below), where they say something about “on the way to the LC”, (though I never actually otherwise heard that expression the whole time I was in Canada, Sloan, with their earnestness and their pop song on the radio (this is before they became a 70s band with a light show) convinced me that somewhere in Canada, there were youth saying such things) — they had reusable bags for a loonie. And that was really cool. I’d never seen anything like that before. They were these fairly high-quality, reasonably attractive, eminently smooshable cloth bags, and they were only a dollar! I mean, think back to 1992 or 93, or whenever it was. You couldn’t buy a cheap bag. The weren’t on every corner as a readily-available impulse consumer item. You had to go to the bag store, and buy a bag. And it was probably going to say something dumb on it, too.
So, back when I used to go to the liquor store in Canada, which I did quite a bit, being, at that time, a avid consumer of martinis and other cocktails requiring mixing and a store of plentiful ingredients on hand, they had these bags. So, I picked up a few. The designs changed from time to time and I collected them all. Ok, like 3 of them. And it was really great, because I could put my heavy liquor bottles in them and not have to deal with a breaking paper bag while walking home.
I still have the bags. And they’re still really handy. And I just used one at the grocery store and it was very convenient.
Nowadays, 18-some-odd years later (really?! It’s been that long? How the hell old am I?) even in many countries less progressive than Canada, such as the United States, you can get reusable bags pretty much everywhere. So, there’s really no reason to use plastic or paper bags that they give out at the store. In fact, some states, like California are attempting to make the regulations stricter — in San Francisco, Oakland and Malibu they already use only corn-plastic bags, which is a great step, although there’s some debate as to whether the corn-plastic material really biodegrades properly in typical compost settings. But that may be too serious a topic to discuss right now.
Eventually, and hopefully soon, the practice of giving out free paper and plastic bags at all stores will just go away. It will seem as archaic as, oh I don’t know, well, something really unreasonable. Something where people dig really far into the earth, make a big mess, ruin their surroundings, kill plants and animals, extract oil, make it into a cheap material, create billions of bags out of that material, give them out everywhere, constantly, to be used for about 1/2 an hour and then put into a pile of refuse somewhere to not rot for millions of years while further disturbing the plants and animals and looking awful. And so, you might as well get used to the bagless lifestyle now.
And when I say “bagless”, I don’t’ really mean “bagless” (nor do I mean “bagels” which spellcheck insists I do mean), I mean, bringing your own. I know it can be kind of a hassle to remember and to have bags on hand at all times — for example when you think you’re just going out for a walk but find you desperately need soy-pudding or something along those lines. Here’s how I manage to have bags on hand. And this took me a long to figure out.
How I handle this bag thing
First of all, I have several bags that smoosh up really tiny itty bitty. Most of them I got for free at conferences or trade show type places as schwag. One, that’s really great is is Baggu brand, and although I lost the little pouch thing it came in, though capacious when unfurled, it smooshes up pleasingly compactly and fits nicely into this tiny pocket of my purse-type-bag. (Check out their site… these things come in terrific colors, including stripey!) I almost always have that one with me, except when I forget to stuff it back in the purse-pocket after unloading it.
Then I have a couple other ones that I got recently at An Event Apart as an Aquent giveaway. They’re from Chico Bags and they’re they’re not as capacitous, but do come replete with a small carabener fold back into their own little integral pouch — and such things are always pleasing. Indeed, for a recent trip I purchased a Sea to Summit day bag which folds into its own pouch and is super lightweight and micro-tiny. It’s completely awesome. And, though he has thusfar restrained himself to just zip-off legs, my gentleman friend has talked, rapturously, for years, about the pants from REI (or is it EMS? Somehow, searching for “pants pouch” did not lead me to my expected results!) that fold into their own pouch. But I digress. I was going to say, these bags are great to clip on to one’s backpack or bag and to generally have on hand at all times — especially when traveling about the world by foot and public transport. And Chico Bags make a whole line of other things too… the Sling bag looks especially appealing to me. And they use recycled PET bottles to make their fabrics… that’s very cool.
The car trick
Then there’s the car. If you have a car. The trick here, I’ve discovered by trial and error, is to have a lot of bags. Especially if you have better things to do with your brain than remember to bring bags out to your car (or are flakey, or both). You need to have so many bags that even if you fill up a bunch of your car bags, and bring them in the house, and don’t remember to bring them back out, you still have more. My hatchback trunk area thing (boot, caboose, whatever you want to call it) is quite full with totebags of all shapes and sizes. I don’t even know how many. Zillions. Twenty. Twenty-five. And I cycle them in the house, out to the car. It’s handy to have them in the house too — because you can, you know, carry things places.
So what I do is: when I come into the house, I try to empty any bags that have come with me. Then I hang the empties on the front doorknob. This seriously irritates my gentleman friend, who does not like obstructions in doorways, but it does help me remember to take them back out to the car next time I go. So, that’s the secret. Once you hit this critical mass of bags, you always have one handy. And I’m not advocating buying bags all the time, or spending a lot. But, you get them for free places… people are always giving out totebags for this and that reason these days. Very trendy.
And, despite inflation elsewhere in the economy, you can still pick them up for a dollar at lots of places — when you do forget yours, until you reach that critical mass. That’s how I got a lot of mine, when I was always without a bag and had to punish myself in stores for forgetting them by buying more, rather than getting a free paper or plastic bag.
My campaign
So I was thinking of making some badges that say “bagless” (and by badges I mean buttons, pins, whatever) and starting a bit of campaign and to celebrate the whole not-asking-for-a-bag-at-the-store lifestyle — but I do think it might be kind of confusing. The whole having a bag that says “bagless” on it. Maybe that doesn’t make sense. Maybe I’ll just imagine making these badges for now. Ok, sounds good. That’s all.
I was talking to someone at lunch at An Event Apart yesterday. She, like most of the people there, is a web designer (and not a print designer). She was talking about the size of her apartment and how the living room sofa is her office. She said she has one drawer in the living room entertainment unit for her files.
I have an utterly overflowing 12×12-ish room for my office. Even though I’ve been going progressively more paperless over the past few years, storing stuff in the cloud or on my computer with programs like Evernote, Backpack, BidSketch and NeatWorks and scanning everything I possibly can with my Fuji ScanSnap — even forcing it to eat things like napkins with drawings and old passport books which don’t make it very happy at all, but do make me, with my mania for archiving, quite chuffed.
I have 2 monitors, one rather large, (well, not by today’s standards), as I’m often laying out items that are physically big enough that you can’t see them on the screen easily (a spread in an 11×17 book, for example) and that in a program like Adobe InDesign or Illustrator that have palettes upon palettes taking up screen real estate. This just doesn’t happen with web design… I never open any palettes in my code editor. I never design a web page that doesn’t fit on my screen.
But because I’m a print designer as well as a web designer, I have a lot of stuff. I have 6 Pantone chip books and 4 Toyo ones for showing clients different color swatches with various ink systems and methodologies. I have 3 shelves of paper swatch books (and I don’t even keep the printed sample pieces). I have books on technology, typography and books of royalty free art to scan, lots of old Emigre and RayGun magazines. And, taking up scads of room, I have printed samples from jobs I’ve done over the past 15 years. A few each of a zillion business cards and stationery systems and brochures and books and annual reports and this and that and this.
Then, of course, as well as the desk where my computer is, there’s a drafting table, for sketching and for making comps. Although one needs far far fewer mechanical supplies than one used to for print design, there are comp-making tools: black boards for mounting design options, glues, tapes, xact-o knives, and all sorts of different sizes and types of paper for the inkjet. I have drawing pens and pencils, various pads of design vellum for sketching. I have all my filled-up notebooks of work notes and sketches.
More and more often these days, I make electronic comps, and present things to clients with emails and PDFs and Basecamp, but certain presentations still demand the old school formality or exactitude of physical comps and designs pasted up on boards. I wonder if that will eventually fall away completely. I wonder if color management and monitor calibration will ever be simplified to the point of ubiquity.
I’m not even talking about all the art supplies and photography stuff I have because I also do that stuff. Or all the paper samples I’ve kept after not using them for projects because they’ll come in handy for art later. Or all the reference books about things tangential to design and technology.
There isn’t a whole lot of point to this article. I just thought it was interesting that a web designer can operate without a lot of trappings, whist a print designer is a bit beholden to their stuff. Certain things like color and paper texture cannot be experienced through the computer screen with any semblance of critical accuracy (yet)— so you have to have actual, analog samples on hand. My possible tendencies towards pack-ratting notwithstanding, it explains a bit about my non-minimalist office, and why, though I’ll wander off working with my laptop for days at a time, I always end up back here somehow.
Maybe life is simpler if you design only for the web. Certainly the folks at An Event Apart were very focused, and very knowledgeable about their craft. Maybe print is dying, like they say… certainly it’s a lot more dead than it was 15 years ago when I started as a designer (and worked on only print). And I’m not much one for advocating printing via traditional methods these days, with the toxicities and resource-wastefulness (there’s argument about resource usage in print vs. web, but I’ll not go there today). Nonetheless, there is something very pleasing about understanding the art and craft of all that analog printing technology (or its newer digital counterparts) and knowing the ins and outs of making physical things as well as virtual ones.
Every day, every year, I feel my one, cluttered foot in the past slowly pulling away, towards an all-digital world, or at least work world (my film cameras and my piano without a power cord are happily entrenched). I wonder about print, and print design. I’ll still be designing logos next year, for sure, but I wonder about the one-off brochure mock-ups to show clients the way the paper feels in the hand.
But, as I sit here copying 155GB of precious, laboriously scanned and retouched photographs from my backup drive to a new home (“about 8 hours”) on account of yet another traumatically failed hard disk, I’m going to guess it’s going to be a little while before I’m totally ready to let my paper samples hit the recycling bin.
I know Polaroid Week is over — it was last week — (and sorry, I’m not going to go ’round calling it “‘roid” week, as it’s apparently officially known, I’m all for neologisms and clever word-mutation, but that just smacks of “hemorrh…” to me), but I wanted to post a few more bits and pieces.
During the aforementioned special week, I shot a roll of the mysterious TZ Artistic Fade to Black SX70 film (again in my Pronto! B — see the last entry about shooting PX100 Silver Shade in the same camera). Apparently this stuff is an “experimental material”, which may mean it’s an “experimental material” and may mean that it’s totally screwed up. Film stock functionality is in the eye of the beholder though, no? In the instructions for this film, it says that, after it pops out of the camera, you need to watch it carefully, and as soon as looks the way you’d like it to, color/exposure-wise, you need to make a very quick decision and open up the film and get the backing away from the front mylar (and thus stopping the development) or else it will, well, fade to black.
So, I set forth in the world armed with scissors, and proceeded to take shots and then rush my photographic patients into the ER for emergency surgery, covering myself, a café table, a park bench and god-knows-what else with caustic paste. (Much to my gentleman friend’s delight whilst we were eating our lunch.)
The first shot, outside, of a stone lion-type-animal went quite swimmingly (more swimmingly, even, than it appears on the web — thanks color profiles). The colors looked lovely in a weird cross-processy way, a few minutes after exposure, and I carefully removed the backing part way and set the photo standing on its side (with the front and back not touching each other). I left it thus through lunch, and after reassembled it by taping the back back to the front, on the back (yay, confusing sentences!) with some masking tape I also had on hand.
I tried some shots in the café, which was somewhat dim, and managed to get 1 out of 3 to expose in an even quasi-reasonable way. This, I would imagine, was my fault, not the film’s — I was fussing with the light/dark dial and not being very clever. The shot that came out was of another lion, this time a carved wooden one that was part of a chair. Again, I did my emergency surgery. This time, the colors came out dark, but somewhat pleasing. Almost painterly.
Wood Lion
Now, of course, I was determined to photograph more lions with my few remaining shots. So I went on an insanely long drive, looking for lions (eventually managing to go from Boston to Lowell to Portsmouth NH in a quite indirect sort of way). Oddly, I did not find anymore lions (well, one, in felt on a purse in a shop but it was very dark and not a very good setup). So I photographed a buddha and some mural-whales and some other things I’ve now forgotten, because, wait for it, they faded to black! Apparently, you have to be quite careful about leaving too much caustic paste on the mylar surface, and you have to let it all really dry before you put it back together. Oh well. The buddha came out kinda neat… with a bunch of digital processing, it can be neater. But that’s cheating. Or not. Depends on my mood.
dress-shop-buddha (with a little digital contrast tweaking)
Firstly, I am sorry I disappeared for so long. At the risk of making this a boring and trite “dear diary” moment, I’ll just say I was slightly preoccupied about where to take the Tiny Flying Goats project and dissatisfied with my perceived failings. But, damnit Annie, you know you need to just forge ahead. So here we are, and here we go.
Secondly, today is a one-day holiday (International Respect for Chickens Day) amidst an entire week-long holiday (Polaroid Week). I think this Chicken Respect business is pretty much up there with Groundhogs’ Day in terms of brilliant holidays. I have, coincidentally, been spending quite a bit of time respecting chickens of late (chiefly hanging out with them in various locales, working on a new photography series). I’ll be writing about the chicken photos later, but for now, please do celebrate today by respecting chickens. You can also read some more about our fine feathered friends at United Poultry Concerns. (I am concerned that the chickens are all going to be hung over tomorrow, after all this partying.)
Polaroidism
As for that other thing, Polaroid week… I’ve been celebrating that too. Mostly, this is because I sprung for some of that yummy new PX100 Silver Shade film that the Impossible Project put out recently. It’s pretty pricey (understandably, with the R&D that’s been going on the past year), but it’s completely delectable, and I wish I had more of it. But it’s sold out, so I guess I’ll have to wait for the “second flush”.
Nerdy Camera Stuff
Though I try, I’m kind of bad at being a geeky photographer. I get a bit befuddled about the parts of photography that involve numbers. Sure, I know that stuff, and sure, I’m always trying crazy ambitious things like taking lens-building workshops for medium format cameras which totally involve math, and getting together with my photographer friend Jared for hours of coffee and camera-geek-talk… but at the heart of the matter, I’m much more of an impressionist than a stickler for exactitude and technique.
That said, let me tell you a little about my experience with the new PX100 Silver Shade integral Polaroid film… I was slightly wary of using it, at first, as it is, as I was saying, rather pricey ($21/8 shots), and the website made it sound very temperamental. But it turned out to be quite charming and not that difficult to deal with.
I was using a circa 1977 Pronto! B rigid-body SX70 camera.
Outdoor Shots
First, I went outside and shot with available light. It was a bit cold out… maybe 55 or 60˚F. (This film is prefers 63-75˚F), so I put each shot in my pocket to develop (the film is also light-sensitive while developing). Turns out the heat and darkness of my pockets did the trick quite nicely — though my results varied based on how long I kept the pictures away from light and what setting I had the light/dark adjustment set to on the camera (starting with it in the center for outdoor shots and adjusting in small increments worked well).
Indoor Shots
Later that evening, being addicted now to the Silver Shade film, I decided to do some still life photos inside. I set up two very bright color-balanced photo floods on either side of a table. I pulled out a Polaroid “macro” lens (i.e., a +3 filter). Of course, this lens wasn’t actually for this camera (it’s for pack film Land Cameras, I think), and actually had a different dimension and attachment mechanism than the Pronto lens, so, you guessed it, Scotch Tape to the rescue! Actually I’m quite well-chuffed with the weird vignetting that the smaller-than-the-lens-and-inexactly-attached filter caused.
The temperature inside was in the upper 60s, so that wasn’t an issue, but I still developed the shots in my pocket, to protect them from the light. I think they may have, thusly gotten a little too hot, causing some solarization-like effects (in a kind of oxblood-red color, in the shadows). Shooting indoors, with all that light, I had to turn the light/dark dial way up… or is that down? (I didn’t meter this situation, but it was pretty obvious what needed doin’.)
Summation (whoa, that’s an awfully formal subhead)
Interesting that the outdoor/colder weather shots came out far more yellowy-sepia and the indoor/hotter shots came out far more red. Both are lovely palettes. Especially fooling around with ill-matched filters and stuff, these pictures are delightfully and weirdly reminiscent of van dyke brown prints or even callitypes… but then they’re encased in plastic and pop out of one’s 70s camera instantly! If “thumbs up” weren’t trademarked vis-a-vis the rating of films, I would certainly give one or two to this film.
Today, I would like to pontificate about my love for you control:tunes. This little add-on/plug-in for iTunes from you software has been around for a long time. I’m not sure how long, but I feel like I’ve been using it for years. And the cool part is, despite upgrades to the OS (we’re talking Mac only here) and to iTunes, it has always worked.
Although it can do lots of stuff, I’m not really a power user. On the other hand, I’m awfully sad when I’m without it.
Here’s what happens:
I’m working away at my desk, listening to music from iTunes. As each song starts, an unobtrusive overlay (sort of like a Growl notification) fades in to the lower left hand of my screen, telling me what the song and album is. Since the iTunes app is usually buried under heaps of other programs on my second monitor, and since I do tend to let iTunes DJ entertain me for hours at a time, or forget what record I’ve put on, or don’t know what song or album I’m listening to, or wonder what a song is called, it’s very handy to be able to consult this pop up. It’s also very easy to ignore it if I want to. I can also make it go away faster by clicking on it. And all of this is totally customizable. The size, position, color, duration, transparency or the very existence of the pop-up. It’s all in your hands.
Here’s another thing that happens:
I’m working away at my desk, blasting MC Yogi’s Elephant Power record (which has brought me untold hours of happiness this year) or some punk rock, or Fred Astaire or something when the phone rings and I see from the caller ID that it’s a client. Or the government, or some other party upon whom the benefit of answering the phone without a raucous party in the background should be bestowed. Of course, iTunes is buried under all kinds of stuff, and I’m not flight-fingered about the F8 “pause” button on the keyboard (as I tend to use those F keys as key commands in my Adobe software and don’t ever expect them to work in the Finder for some reason)… and, moreover, the phone ringing flusters me, and I’m generally busy trying to plug the earbuds of my headset in and act all cool and suave and like I don’t spend most of my days working in splendid isolation. You control: tunes comes to the rescue. There’s a very handy PAUSE button right there in my menu bar (along with, admittedly, a lot of other stuff with which I’ve cluttered it up — sorry Mac minimalists!). It’s super-easy for me to click it and stop the party asap. Phew, suaveness recovered.
You can also use that same menu bar interface to find out what you’re listening to or select something new to listen to and to do iTunes geeky things like set ratings and favorites. And you can customize this little menu thing too. It comes with a huge variety of button sets in various styles and colors — and apparently, you can also make your own. You can put them on the left or the right or not at all. Personally, I’m quite happy with the flat orange buttons on the right and have been for years. Familiarity breeds comfort.
You can also set it so that the name of the song you’re listening to scrolls by in this button area for the amount of time (and at a speed) you specify. I like that.
I’m totally sold, based on the features I’ve mentioned (especially because it’s a free app). But you can apparently also set up all kinds of hot keys to control various iTunes-y things in an even more streamlined manner. I’ve not pursued this option, as my braincells allocated to storing information of that kind are already filled up remembering that option-u is umlaut and option-x is almost equal to and what the typographic names of such things as æ, «», |, and # are. (ash, guillemets, pipe and octothorpe).
Thank you people who make good software and give it to us for free. You are very cool.
My Gentleman Friend, who indulges in a form of tracking which mountains he climbs up in terms of what season it is, tells me that winter is ending, technically, in a couple weeks (March 20th, at midnight, I think). Thus, spring is coming, and that means it’s time for spring cleaning. While I’ll take on the obligatory dusting and cleansing, I don’t really find it all that thrilling, truth be told. I do, however, really get into more enterprising reorganization projects around the house. (Well, apartment.) I love the black and white quality of a violent clutter purge, or a furniture move. A changing of storage methodologies or artifacts on display can also do a lot to brighten up a room and make one feel very accomplished and clever and productive.
Indeed, this morning, I took on the the first step in a reorganization project I’ve been mulling over for a while (usually at inopportune times), in which I move my most oft-used cameras to the top of the Ikea Expedit in my studio and store the rest in a box relegated to the basement. (Granted, since I shoot with lots of crazy cardboard pinhole cameras and modified cheap plastic and antique numbers, as well as a few “real” cameras in different formats, the number of items in my “oft-used” group exceeds the space available on top of the 5×5 Expedit). So I moved the stuff on top of the design books bookcase (old design notebooks, a box full of handmade paper, old Emigre magazines when they were in journal format, a (badly) handmade clamshell box full of fur from one of our dead bunnies (Mr. Bunny 2, the Big Orange Bunny) wrapped in Saran Wrap) to various places. I moved the boxes of photographs from the top of the Expedit to that bookcase. I started putting cameras up on top of the Expedit. I liked that they were accessible, but it looked kinda crappy. Too chaotic. Too many shapes and sizes. Too many cameras to fit nicely in the space. I decided I probably needed a more complex holding system for them, to keep them reigned in and organized, but still in view. Probably need to build something clever. Maye hack something from Ikea. Hmmm….
Seeing as I had a coffee date lined up, that wasn’t going to happen today. So I decided to spend my remaining morning puttering-about-the-house time browsing some of my favorite websites about fixing up one’s apartment. The kind I like are kinda DIY, mindful of one’s resources — both personal and global.
Don’t Act, Just Look at Websites
If you’re a decorating/home improvement DIY aficionado sort, you probably already know about these sites, but I thought I’d give a little run-down, just in case you were looking for this sort of thing (and it will spare you, dear readers, from another rant on prehistoric archeology, at least for now… ).
When you are in a quandary as to whether you need more clutter or less clutter and either way, what arrangement it should be displayed in and, moreover, how you might make the project of creating said display device as crafty and ambitious as possible, take a gander at these sites:
The standby is Apartment Therapy. I’ve poked around there, off and on for years, it seems. But I think I just realized there is an actual Boston section, where I can view the nice apartments of people in my actual vicinity. You’ve got to love that — especially if you’re hopelessly voyeuristic about people’s apartments, the way I am. It’s full of great stuff, but some of those places are actual houses and way nicer than my apartment will ever be — I don’t think my landlord would appreciate my installing a black and white psuedo-19th century stove) or painting my floor white. (That white-floor bedroom is so amazing… can you imagine you (and your muddy golden doodle) being that clean?)
Then there’s Design*Sponge. There’s tons here — great “Before and Afters” and “DIY”s which will make you want to pick up even more trash-furniture off the side of the road to rehabilitate, recipes, podcasts and my fave section (again with the voyeurism!) “Sneak Peak“. Looking into the houses and apartments of neato artists, designers and crafters is really a wonderful guilty pleasure — only not so guilty, as one can do it without actually sneaking around in person.
Finally, there’s Tiny-Ass Apartment, compiled by Simone, whom I believe has also written for both of the sites mentioned above. Having spent about 10 years in about 600 square feet, I relate to and appreciate this site a great deal (even though my space has now grown larger as has the amount of stuff I choose to fill it with — like a goldfish that grows to fill his bowl). When I lived in my studio apartment, I reveled in the cleverness of vertical stacking, secret hiding spots and general stuff-compression. Guests may have found it precarious, but I found it wonderfully cozy. At any rate, Tiny Ass Apartment has tips and tricks and a healthily irreverent attitude that makes for a good read regardless of your dwelling’s proportions.
Roost: Letterpressed and other clever cards
Roost: One always envies people with apothacary cabinets
Roost: Friendly Sentiments
Roost: Green Gardeny Stuff
Roost: Red Lentils
Bonus: Real Life, Brick and Mortar
My aforementioned coffee date being in Salem, Massachusetts, I happened by a lovely new shop whilst on my way. It so charmed and enchanted me (and I so wanted to buy everything, except that I’m not a consumery consumer person… and thus limited myself to one gift for a friend). You may be nowhere near Salem (but everyone ends up there, eventually, no? And Salem has been getting really awesome the past few years), but if you are (or online) check out Roost. It’s small and bright and purveys attractive, affordable wares displayed in sensitive groupings that glimmer like color-sorted jewels. It’s got a bit of the aesthetic of Anthropologie without all the mossiness, attitude and clothes for waifs. (Though I do love a good, inspiring visit to an Anthropologie store on occasion.) Lovely vintage-style glassware, felted bowls and toys, letterpressed greeting cards, repurposed and recycled items and some great assemblage art. Everything so clean, quirky and delightful… just makes you want to have a really neat apartment.
Jamie, one of the proprietors (and a quite agreeable, friendly sort at that), told me they may hold some DIY workshops in future, to help encourage people to reuse/upcycle curbside finds and worn out this and thats. I love that stuff!
Nice to have a day when one thinks about light, practical things rather than worrying about the woes of the world (and to do lists). Here’s to spring!
When I was a student of art history at university, the oldest art I learned about was, I think, that of ancient Greece. I also took a course in the “Architecture of St. Paul the Apostle”, which seemed like it was about something more aged than ancient Greece, on account of everything being indistinguishable heaps of sandy rocks, but St. Paul the Apostle and the architecture in which he was hanging out were, logically, a product of AD times. (I actually paid so little attention in this course, it’s almost like I didn’t take it…. reading the New Testament and looking at slides of dusty heaps of stones… not so interesting to me at the time). Anyway, yes, ancient Greece. Having lived near several Museums with respectable Egyptian galleries, I’ve poked around ancient Egypt as well. But I never really looked at anything older. Never took any courses in prehistoric art of any sort, nor did I have anthropology or science requirements that made me go there. Which was good, since I didn’t think that stuff was very interesting — didn’t have the wow-factor of, say, Medieval art.
Old Stuff at Home
Lately though, I’ve started to see something it it. I have been listening to The History of the World in 100 Objects podcast from BBC Radio 4. (Available on iTunes, with more info here), which begins with discussions of quite a few prehistoric objects. I’ve also, over the past few months, been watching whatever documentaries I come across about early humans. This all started when I saw population geneticist Spencer Wells’ fascinating documentary on how we’ve recently been unraveling the early migrations of humans out of Africa using DNA.
I think why this period (prehistory) has been attracting me is a because of its reductionism. Not that life was simple then, or that early people were less capable or clever than contemporary ones — rather, we know so little about that time that we can only ferret out (what we perceive to be) the important aspects of prehistoric lives in broad strokes on a vast and gappy timeline. And these things, or achievements, if that’s how you want to characterize them, can make us really think about what we do now. What we’ve evolved to do — and whether these activities make our lives more complicated or simpler and better. When did people start to talk? Did it make things better, or add undue complication? Was it worth it? What does that tell me about verbal communication today? Monogamous couples, staying put instead of being nomadic, building shelters instead of relying on caves, cooking food, eating meat, hunting in groups, planting seeds, domesticating animals, wearing clothes… all this and so many other big and small steps in becoming who we are today. Better, worse, what if it were different?
My to do list
The other day I was driving somewhere, doing some errand or other, in a bit of a driving coma. I thought fleetingly about all the things on my to do list, my very populated white board back at home. I felt a slight bit of apprehension about getting the to do items done. Being in a slightly altered state as I was, suddenly all these tasks I was meant to do, which I’d been carefully collecting, curating and crossing off, seemed intensely arbitrary. Why these tasks? Why email this person? Why email at all? Why have a computer? Why work with computers? Why design a business card for my friend? Why write in my blog or promote my design firm? Why even have design firm? Why lock myself into doing all this busywork?
OK, there are reasons, at least if I’m participating in the framework of human society in which I live. And I do tend to do that. I need to make money, I like to make my friends happy, I design things, I use computers. That’s what I do. I need to buy coffee because I’m addicted to it and like it. I need to send emails to share information. You know the drill. Arguably, none of these things are about survival on the basest level, and aren’t strictly necessary. Some of them would be very difficult not to do, with the way things are in the world (like making money), but I expect I could go off in some wilderness, eat nuts and berries, live in a cave, keep warm under a pile of leaves, that sort of thing. (Now, I know I’m not the wilderness type and have a problem with mosquitoes, but we’re talking theory only.) But assuming I had the base survival things under control, wouldn’t I want more? Wouldn’t I want to have some clothes that felt good next to the skin or to wear a nice shiny rock I found on a cord around my neck? Wouldn’t that make me happier? Would making these not-strictly-necessary items which gave me aesthetic pleasure be busywork? Or would it, in a sense, be art? Does it even matter which, if I have the inclination (instinct?) and it adds to my joy at being alive? I posit that it does not.
Meanwhile, in Olduvai Gorge, Tanzania…
That’s why I find episode 2 of The History of the World in 100 Objects so moving. It’s about a stone chopping tool made 1.8 million years ago and found by Louis Leakey in Olduvai Gorge in East Africa. It’s a heavy rock, chipped just so to make it useful for a number of cutting tasks. And it is the oldest object we know of that demonstrates human’s capability to design. In the podcast, naturalist David Attenborough says:
This object is something created from a natural substance for a particular purpose, and in a particular way, with a notion in the maker’s mind of what he needed it for. Is it more complex than was needed to actually serve the function which he used it for? Do you know, I think you could almost say it is. Did he really need to do one, two, three, four, five chips on one side and four on the other? Could he have got away with two? I think he might have done so. I think the man or woman who held this, made it just for that particular job and perhaps got some satisfaction from knowing that it was going to do it very effectively, very economically and very neatly. In time, you’d say he’d done it beautifully but, maybe not yet … the start of a journey.
The maker of this chopper went, perhaps, one step beyond the point where the tool would serve its purpose, to make it also pleasing to the eye and well-fit to the hand. When I upgraded to a Good Grips vegetable peeler after years of using the standard plain metal kind, I was acting on the same impulse, as was the person who designed the Good Grips peeler.
So what’s my point?
Maybe it’s a silly thing to have gone on about, since most of us, especially us blog-writing, blog-reading types, are, generally, members of the framework of modern human society. We don’t live in the woods and make decisions relating only to survival. Most of us have completely bought into the validity and necessity of our to do lists.
But once it a while, it’s good to question it. Question it all. Reaffirm that you’re still on board with making tools with extra chips to make them fit in your hand better. That design and art, and purposeful, technically non-necessary actions add beauty, meaning, pleasure (what have you) to your life and those around you. That they’re worth doing. If they aren’t — if there’s anything on your to do list that isn’t necessary (for survival, or its modern equivalents) or doesn’t add joy to life, you might want to just cross it off now.
