Food for thought‘[...] do not think that good design can make a poor product good, whether the product be a machine, a building, a promotional brochure or a business man. But [...] good design can materially help make a good product reach its full potential. In short, [...] good design is good business.’
Thomas J. Watson Jr., IBM CEO

Would you define yourself by your tastes or by your creations?

January 5, 2012, 2:23 PM

Following the thought-provoking quote, “your taste is why your work disappoints you” from Ira Glass, here is a new ‘kick in the gut’:

When you don’t create things, you become defined by your tastes rather than ability. Your tastes only narrow and exclude people.
So create
— why the lucky stiff

Yet another push, if you still need one, to spend more time creating your own work and less looking at what others are doing. As it gets easier and easier to be online 24/7 — tweeting, instagramming, facebooking, blogging or Internet-knows-what — it gets harder and harder to find the time for your own projects. And I’m talking about investing at least a few serious hours, if not days’ worth, not just thirty minutes here and there, doing trendy all-caps posters using Twitter ‘wisdom’ for copy — even if some seem to make quite a good name for themselves in this way.

It’s also a bit unsettling to realise that if you could judge yourself by your creations only, you wouldn’t have a very good opinion of you, isn’t it?

Before you ask, the source is not a joke, it’s the pseudonym of a programmer, you can read more about his interesting story and disappearance here — I’m hoping he just decided to create more.


Via Quote Vadis. You might also like my post, “My taste is why my work disappoints me.”

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“Do you draw for fun anymore?”

November 27, 2011, 11:56 AM

As I get used to the inevitability of being 30 next spring, I can no longer call myself a ‘beginner’, but I also don’t feel that my experience so far has made me significantly more confident or ‘great’ in my work. Even if Mr Saul Bass provides a bit of comfort — “… the good news, I say to students, is that what you are experiencing is exactly what everybody else experiences, even those people you most admire. The bad news is that it doesn’t get any better” — I’m still searching for at least a faint feeling of being on ‘the right path’.

I’ve been reading some great books lately, but also picking up bits and pieces that feel ‘right’, building something almost like a ‘widsom’ puzzle. One of the pieces was the “your taste is why your work disappoints you” quote from Mr Ira Glass that I wrote about a few weeks ago. This time it’s a talk from Mrs Lynda Barry, on the topic of “What is an image?”. It’s hugely entertaining, very insightful, makes you think, but, most importantly, makes you want to pick up a pencil and start drawing just for fun, just playing, and do it as often as possible.

But I’ll let you enjoy it:



Here are the links too, in case the embedding doesn’t work: part 1 & part 2.

Thanks go to Mr Austin Kleon — do follow him.
Saul Bass quote from the new book, read about it on the Creative Review.

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My taste is why my work disappoints me

October 19, 2011, 7:37 AM

A thought-provoking piece, something that should probably be read as a mantra each morning, titled “Your taste is why your work disappoints you”:

Nobody tells this to people who are beginners. I wish someone had told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase; they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have that special think that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know that it’s normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you finish one story. It’s only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take a while. It’s normal to take a while. You just gotta fight your way through.
— Ira Glass

In short, there is no easy way out. You have to sweat over everything you do if you want it to be any good. Of course, you need talent just to have a real chance of getting somewhere in what you’re doing, but that will only get you as far as ‘decent’ — you need perseverance to make it to the ‘good’ section. And, with a bit of luck, you might even see a glimpse of ‘great’.

It felt like a small epiphany reading this — too often I’ve found myself unhappy with my work. I’ve always thought that a good way of learning is to watch others how they do it. And it was, for me at least. I would often surprise my college friends by being able to work in their style after watching them do just one or two drawings. But watching is not enough. It can break the ice for you, but if you want to make it to the shore, you’re on your own, with no one to help you. You have to go through it alone, fighting your own damned self. Beacons (mentors, colleagues, other sources of inspiration) might guide you awhile now and then, but most of the time, you’re in the dark, swimming for your very soul. You do get better with age if you keep going, but your best chance is to barely make it to the shore when you die. Any other way is just Sirens fucking with your mind. If you ever think “It’s easy, I know how to do this”, they’ve probably got you.

You do get better with age if you keep going, but your best chance is to barely make it to the shore when you die. Any other way is just Sirens fucking with your mind.

The quote is a transcript from a video interview with Glass, the “On Taste…” part. You can watch it here on Youtube. Via Untitled Mag, Kottke.

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Thank you, Steve

October 6, 2011, 7:42 AM

Feels like losing a dear family member. Thank you, Steve.

“Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose,” … “You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.” — Steve Jobs

Sorry Mr Glaser for borrowing your idea, I’m sure you’d understand.

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Graffiti is dead, long live graffiti

March 28, 2011, 4:50 PM

Street art, graffiti in particular, is more or less an ephemeral form of art, threatened all the time by weather, unhappy landlords, neighbourhood-cleaning raids or, most of the time, other street artists in search of a space to express themselves. There may still be around graffitis from the ancient times, but few are so lucky.

Shoreditch is by definition the cool centre of London, the place to be if you’re involved in any creative business. Almost every street has its own ‘work of art’, if not more. My favourite was this one, a rather unusual, monochromatic graffiti, as it was more a painting than a “wall sketch” (click for the full-size version):

The first time I saw it, I thought the wall was just dirty, as I could only see a small part from the right-hand side. The guys standing with their backs at the road seemed so natural, waiting for something, maybe just killing time. And of course, the smartest touch, the bike tied to the street light added even more depth to the confusion (each time I walked past the wall, at least one bike would be there, almost part of the painting). Details were beautiful, each character having quite a lot of stuff going on, plus there were one or two small bits to discover, like the plane right under the windows, usually hidden by the tree. And last but not least, the background was beautiful as well, an abstract, random-stripes-nonsense at first sight, an interesting city sky-line on closer inspection.

Here’s a closer-taken photo of the left side, taken last fall — the others are taken later on, during the winter (click for the full-size version):

Sadly, or naturally, as all things have an end sooner or later, the painting was replaced a few weeks ago by this less unconventional graffiti (click for the full-size version):

It’s most likely a continuation of the work on the other side of the building, on Curtain Road (which also went through its share of changes):

Unfortunately, I don’t know the [nick]names of any of the creators, so if you know something, drop me a line and I’ll happily add the credits. My favourite wall painting might not be there anymore, but if you’re walking on Great Eastern Road towards Old Street, make a left on Curtain Road to see what’s on.

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Different ways of looking

March 4, 2011, 5:18 PM

Few days ago, I happened to walk past a beautiful scene: a bright-orange pot, holding a tiny, Little-Prince-like tree, caught up right in the never-ending battle between light & shadow. Obviously, I had to stop for a look and a quick shot:

Half an hour later, still thinking about the photo, I felt like putting more emphasis on the subject, closing the frame in and warming the whole scene even more — while I was quite skeptical about Instagram at the beginning, dismissing it as yet another ‘hipster-app’, I came to love it quite fast after giving it a try: it’s fast, it’s simple and it lets me focus on the subject and on the title — a great exercise for any creative person (true, some use it to share their breakfast menu to the world, but I guess that can’t be helped in the current no-privacy world). So here came the second, more focused treatment, titled ‘It’s mostly about being there at the right time, eyes opened.’

'It's mostly about being there at the right time, eyes opened.'

As my Instagram account publishes instantly to my Twitter account, one of my followers retweeted it. While it’s always nice when people ‘like’ your stuff, seeing the retweet made me look at the photo again. Oddly enough, there was something new, something I didn’t see the first time. Or, better said, I realised that, in spite of the title, my eyes haven’t been open enough.

Graphic Design: Visual Comparisons (1964), by Fletcher Forbes Gill

As a big fan of Pentagram, I have pretty much all the books they’ve ever made, starting with the above beauty, “Graphic Design: Visual Comparisons” (1964), written by Alan Fletcher, Colin Forbes and Bob Gill before the official birth of Pentagram (the Fletcher Forbes Gill studio eventually became Pentagram in 1972). The simple drawing on the cover, depicting the book’s title, would’ve probably went just as well on the cover of Alan Fletcher’s later book, The Art of Looking Sideways (2001). So with these two  constantly roaming through the back of my mind, I saw an entirely different scene, where the orange pot was no longer the main subject, but where several other much more interesting ‘characters’ were ‘looking’ around in many different ways. The title this time, ‘… and there’s always more than just one way of looking.’

'... and there's always more than just one way of looking.'

After this, I started playing around some more, trying black & white versions of the photo, other crops and so on. None made me happier than the above one, but it really was a great to be reminded that one can look at things from so many different perspectives. Of course, the scene had quite a lot of things to play around with and focus on, but the same exercise can be done with almost anything, even just one single object. For example, I remember one of the assignments my high school design teacher told me about: you are given a single push pin — you have to come up with a complex pencil drawing composition on a large A1 paper, based only on that tack. Now, there’s a challenge, if you needed one.

And since I mentioned push pins, there’s no better way of concluding it than with this Milton Glaser poster:

Milton Glaser's "Looking is not Seeing" poster.

Further links and credits:
— thanks to Roxana for helping me see things differently;
— you’d probably enjoy my Instagrid photo collection (now over 100);
— you can buy Milton’s poster on his website.

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Hustling the greats — cheap bravado or a genuine “naked emperor” shout?

January 28, 2011, 12:41 PM

While reading Adrian Shaughnessy’s interesting review of Kenneth FitzGerald’s Volume: Writing on Graphic Design, Music, Art and Culture book (on the Design Observer), a paragraph caught my attention especially:

It’s not only his students FitzGerald wants to refrain from gazing admiringly at the great and the good of the design world. His own combative approach to criticism means that he doesn’t shy away from roughing up representatives of design’s elite: Alan Fletcher (“The Art of Looking Sideways … a formless data-dump of quotations, aphorisms, diagrams, reproductions, commentaries, and folderol”); John Maeda (“sterile, programmed ornamentation”); Paul Rand (… students will become even more marginalized and disenchanted with their work and status if they attempt to define themselves by Rand’s fallacies); and Stefan Sagmeister (“Made you Look … a fatiguing compendium of almost every optical, production, and advertising-creative artifice devised since Gutenberg”).

I don’t think I need to tell you that this is the design’s equivalent of whistling bare-assed inside the church on a Sunday morning. Does Mr FitzGerald really mean that? Or is he just saying it to shock and draw attention? What should we believe in then, if role models or mentors are over-rated? It’s easy to say “do your own thing”, but so few of us can actually do that.

It has always been one of the best ways to get fast on top (either in gang fights or in public opinion): pick someone bigger than you — hell, pick the biggest of them all — and make him bite the dust. Should you succeed, you’re the man (until another does it to you, of course). Should you loose, do it in style and at least you’ve made the news — more or less.

It seems these days that almost everybody worships individualism. You can see it in almost everything — large businesses are slowly fragmenting, everybody tries to be a “freelancer”, everybody wants to be their own boss — an understandable thing, after all, who likes to take orders all day?. Marriages are shorter and shorter, single parentage slowly gains ground and becomes the “normal” way of growing up a kid. It’s all fine-tuning as the ultimate self-centred society. A planet of “every man for himself only”. Well, to be more precise, a “western” civilisation of loners. And these days — go figure — most of them (us) seem so bewitched by iStuff.

Well, if Mr FitzGerald wanted attention, he’s surely got it. And maybe that’s a good thing. Shouting out that “the emperor is naked” might prove a lie, but it did make you look thoroughly, didn’t it? I still think that apprenticeship as a way of learning was one of the good things we lost during the last fifty years. Having role-models can be very useful, but only as long as we never forget that role-models are meant to be surpassed.

As post scriptum, the cover of the book looks rather nice:

And while we’re at it, here’s another quote from Mr FitzGerald’s book:

It is a delusion that the activity of fine artists is divorced from commercial considerations. It isn’t even a matter of degree. All that separates art and design is the kind of marketplace one chooses to operate in.

Now that’s something with which I totally agree.

Further reading & links:
• Adrian Shaughnessy’s review of the book on the Design Observer;
• Kenneth FitzGerald’s blog post about his book.

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On creative “un-aired” gems and Russell Brand’s jaw-dropping skills

December 18, 2010, 1:03 AM

Any creative — whether they’re a musician, actor, architect, designer or any other — can tell you that, more often than not, the best things they come up with never get published. And the more commercially you’re involved, the worse it gets. Lone-wolf-like artists might get away with it from time to time, since they’re supposed to be working for their own ego, pleasure, spirit or whatever you want to call it. Or at least that’s the theory. In real life however, even Balzac had to “write” off his debts from time to time.

As a designer, I’ve seen plenty of great ideas that never got out of the agency (“pitching” inside the team is a great way to keep the creative fire burning, but it can lead to frustration sometimes, especially when you’re doing it between more than three good designers), or lost to other lesser ideas due to client’s uninspired choices — unfortunately, we’re not Paul Rand to present just one idea. So by the time you’ve been in the business for a few years, I bet you’ll have quite a collection of great ideas that “never made it”, one reason or the another.

Now, I’ve disliked Russell Brand from the first time I saw him. It was pretty much obvious: a “oh-look-at-my-pretty-hair” attention-whore that probably spent more time in front of the mirror than his girlfriend, the kind of guy that doesn’t have any kind of decency and respect for anything except for his own self-centered ego — thus, the perfect show host, the kind of celebrity two-dime tabloid journalists would not have to invent stories about, they’d have plenty each week. The successful kind.

Having such a good opinion on Mr. Brand (oh, the irony), it was only out of boredom that I watched “Get Him to the Greek“. Even if Russell seemed to just be playing his own self, not a fictional character, I did enjoy the movie. A good popcorn one, not great like “The Hangover“, but still enjoyable enough.

So, cutting it short, I definitely wasn’t prepared for the following effortless, jaw-dropping proof of uncanny acting talent from Russell. This is a raw, behind-the-scene gem, and I doubt that his finished-film performance will top this. Here are the details about how and why we have the pleasure of seeing this:

Famous for his onscreen improvising, Russell Brand has to stick to the Shakespearean text in Julie Taymor’s film The Tempest, where he plays the jester Trinculo. Still, an antic comedian like Brand needs some sort of outlet for his verbal flights of fancy, and so it is that when Taymor asked Brand to expound on his character during rehearsals, he responded with a dizzying, dazzling monologue delivered in character for almost five minutes. Vulture’s got exclusive video of the moment, which rendered Brand’s co-star Alfred Molina practically speechless.

But enough ranting, just see for yourself:

No need to tell you that I’m really looking forward to watching this film, first of all because of Alfred Molina’s class, but now also hoping to see some of the above Russell Brand “magic” in the actual, published film. Being an american one, however, my hopes aren’t very high — American films are so much like “design by commitee” projects.

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Since we’re on the subject, there’s another great British actor that’s usually underrated, Tim Roth. These days he’s ‘conducting’ a TV series called “Lie to Me“, which is already in its third season. He plays the role of a specialist in reaching the truth through applied psychology: interpreting micro-expressions, through the Facial Action Coding System, and body language. I know, sounds boring, but, believe me, you’ve rarely seen such a high-class performance in a TV series (the way Tim walks, tilts his head, grins — all in character — is simply wonderful). Here’s a third’s season poster, as an apetizer:

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LATER EDIT
If you need any more proof that Russell Brand is a smart fellow underneath all that show that he puts on, watch this BBC interview with Jeremy Paxton: Paxman quizzes Russell Brand on the cult of celebrity.

§

Credits:
• Russel Brand video via Joshua Blankenship, from NY Mag;
• Thanks Peter for the BBC interview.

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Beauty — how ‘human’ or ‘normal’ should it be?

December 12, 2010, 10:13 PM

Few of the ‘normal’ people don’t feel their soul cringe when they see a disabled person. Whether out of pity, guilt, fear, anger towards fate or just because of the strange gut feeling, you can’t feel comfortable unless you take some time to get used to it. It’s actually quite a natural, biological reaction. We are ‘set’ to search for the genetically-best representative of the opposite sex, more or less. Anyone that looks different gives us a sense of discomfort, usually requiring quite some will power to overcome it. Unlike animals, who let their disabled to die or be eaten, humans do benefit from the “mind over body” thing — or at least try to.

Biological ‘settings’ are not the only ones to blame. Most human societies have outcasted handicapped people for most of our history (in spite of the recent 20th and 21st century ‘enlightenment’, everyday life is still far from easy and ‘normal’ for a disabled person). Also, thousands of years of art are more than enough proof of our cultural & social notions of beauty. Ancient greeks, the Renaissance (to name just a few) tried to portray the perfect human, homo universalis. Even if art from the last two centuries has taken more abstract forms, we still strive for the “greek standard”, more or less. Just take a look through most magazines: 100-m-athletes-like and 90-60-90 models everywhere — no wonder anorexia and bulimia are some of the most common problems these days. Even regular people feel disabled when comparing themselves to ‘society’s standards’.

So it’s no wonder that art (or sports) performed by disabled people seems so strange, almost out of this world, sometimes.

Meet David Toole, a professional dancer — don’t be fooled by the absence of his legs (of which he says the only good thing is that they come in pairs):

David Toole, CandoCo dancer.

And that’s just a hint, watch this promo for “The Cost of Living” film, made by the DV8 Physical Theatre (definitely wait for the second part):

No matter how awkward it first seems, you can’t deny the artistic value. It might look different, you might even find it hard to watch, but by the end, it surely does make you think that beauty might lie outside the comfort zone as well.

And how about Aimee Mullins? Yes, her TED talks are inspiring, to say the least. But you can’t help wondering, would she had come so far if she wasn’t such a hot babe beautiful woman? Of course her looks didn’t help her olympic career or learn walking at the age of two in spite of her handicap, but I doubt Alexander McQueen used her as a model because of her performances. Nevertheless, her story is fascinating and makes you think that it might not be long before the existence of Motoko-Kusanagi-like cyborgs (the Ghost in the Shell series is one of the few franchises that really explore the idea of a technologically-enhanced human society, with its social and psychological implications).

Aimee Mullins (athlete, actress and fashion model)

Come to think of it, would Venus de Milo be just as beautiful if she hadn’t lost her arms? Would she look more ordinary?

Venus / Aphrodite of Milos, (created somewhere between 130, 100 BC).

So what is beauty? How normal or human should it be?
Would we be able to acknowledge ‘alien’ beauty?

Let’s not forget that even for fellow humans, a Zulu for example, beauty might mean something completely different, almost like from another planet for the rest of us. Impressionists had to hold their ground for a some years before they were taken seriously; Pollock‘s paintings might look just like mindless splashes of paint; Christo‘s environmental works of art might seem just like the wrappings of a big child that somehow managed to get the funding for his play. Or even Warhol‘s works — are they actually beautiful? Or just strange enough to be considered art?

There is no final answer. No undeniable truth. Saying the old “beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder” is just politically-correct bullshit — trying to be nice to everybody. Beauty exists, just as ugliness. They just come in so many different shapes that it’s sometimes impossible to tell them apart.

And why should we need answers anyway?
It’s the questions that got us humans so far, haven’t they? We just have to keep our eyes (and minds, of course) wide open — you never know where beauty might come from, least its form.

Credits: David Toole photo taken from his website, Aimee photo taken by Howard Schatz, Venus image taken from The Independent.

Further reading:
— “Racing on carbon fibre legs: How abled should we be“, by Aimee Mullins

Michel Petrucciani, pianist and composer

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