Franz Erhard Walter, Lager der Probenähungen, installation in Museum Marta Herford,
(© Franz Erhardt Walther / VG Bild-Kunst, photo: Hans Schröder) (via hoolawhoop: to fold)
OK internet, if you say so. Maybe we can call it post-fashion apathy, to be more descriptive, and less buzzwordy. Or #hashtagcore, because the singular thing about internet culture among “digital natives” seems to be an obsession with trends, and coining the new “it” thing.
(Elsewhere: normcore in the wild.)
27 Feb 2014 / 1 note
The New Yorker wonders: Why is academic writing so academic?
Ordinary writing—the kind you read for fun—seeks to delight (and, sometimes, to delight and instruct). Academic writing has a more ambiguous mission. It’s supposed to be dry but also clever; faceless but also persuasive; clear but also completist. Its deepest ambiguity has to do with audience. Academic prose is, ideally, impersonal, written by one disinterested mind for other equally disinterested minds. But, because it’s intended for a very small audience of hyper-knowledgable, mutually acquainted specialists, it’s actually among the most personal writing there is. If journalists sound friendly, that’s because they’re writing for strangers. With academics, it’s the reverse.
27 Feb 2014 / 1 note
I’ve been doing some homework for a review of the upcoming exhibition at GSAPP, “Messages and Means: Muriel Cooper at MIT,” and found this conversation Ellen Lupton had with Cooper on May 7, 1994. Unpublished, but online here.
LUPTON: Could you explain the conjunction of AI and design?
COOPER: I would like to see enough intelligence with enough rich graphical vocabulary that a designer could interact with technology in an empowered way. The designer should be free from the technical details in order to work with the more interesting aspects of the medium—finding pathways, etc. The machine can be a substitute intern or assistant. The machine can also take on a teaching role, and the designer becomes the intern. For the expert, the machine could be an intern. For the novice, the machine could be a teacher.
20 Feb 2014 / 2 notes
The Tiny Dialectic. ‘I’m making a very fine distinction’
Follow directions for ‘The Dialectic’ but with thumb and forefinger one centimetre apart. Bring hand toward eyes for closer inspection.
Use when unpicking specific detail, or when too self-conscious to use ‘The Dialectic’ gesture.
Unpacking the academic’s body language – very necessary. See more from the Glossary of Critical Hand Gestures over yonder.
New favorite snow / rain / polar vortex / bad weather day activity – doodling on this awesome re-creation of Susan Kare's MacPaint:
29 Jan 2014 / 2 notes
“We yearn for the fully packed, the circle that is so juicy and perfect that not an ounce more can be added.”
23 Jan 2014 / 0 notes
Happy 2014! A belated new year’s greeting from me, but this seemed to me an appropriate token of well-wishes (if not in image form, then IRL, over here.)
20 Jan 2014 / 2 notes
Currently on heavy rotation – Kim Jung Mi, Now (1973). Good for those wintertime blues (and the S. Korean roots!). From Light In the Attic (who reissued the LP in 2011):
At the dawn of the 1970’s, South Korea’s rock music scene was at its zenith. Much of the reason for this was the god-like musical touch of guitar wizard, songwriter, producer, and arranger Shin Joong Hyun. For this album, he took a young girl named Kim Jung Mi, and transformed her from a wallflower student into a folk-psych chanteuse in record time (if Francoise Hardy is the Marianne Faithful of France, then Kim Jung Mi is, I suppose, the Francoise Hardy of Korea). The ten songs on Now were written and recorded during 1973 with a firm mandate to create a truly psychedelic sound experience. On each number, Shin Joong Hyun and his backing group laid down pure emotion on tape. Mr. Shin’s fuzz guitar weaves in and out of the tracks, interlaced with his own poetic musings on nature (spring, sun, flowers, rain, and wind), all else in the world apart from Kim Jung Mi’s soothing voice and insistent bass that crouches and creeps, depending on its mood, displaced. This raw feeling, combined with Kim Jung Mi’s seductive, expressive vocals and empathetic string orchestration, resulted in an album that is nothing short of awe-inspiring. Mr. Shin’s ethereal cover photo—the blue graininess of the sky dripping into fading clouds, with Kim Jung Mi surrounded on her sky-high isolated mountaintop by flowers—is the perfect image to represent what is, without a doubt, one of the best psychedelic albums ever created.
Thanks BM for the h/t! Listen to it on YouTube here.
9 Dec 2013 / 2 notes