When Alien hit theaters in 1979, the monster on screen was unlike anything moviegoers had ever seen. The film’s deadly, parasitic Xenomorph was terrifying and grotesque, yet graceful and stunning. “I always wanted my alien to be a very beautiful thing, something aesthetic,” production designer H.R. Giger has said of his creation. “A monster isn’t just something disgusting; it can have a kind of beauty.”
Giger, a Swiss artist known as much for his darkly surreal paintings as for his cinematic work, is the subject of a new video essay that explores how his background in design informed not just the appearance of Alien‘s titular interstellar stowaway, but the look, feel, and pacing of the film, itself. The video, made by Kristian Williams, is a reminder of just how brilliant Giger’s Academy Award-winning design work was, and still is.
As Williams explains it, director Ridley Scott came across Giger’s Necronomicon, Giger’s first book dedicated to his macabre, biomechanical aesthetic, while trying to conceptualize what the film’s monster should look like. An illustration titled Necronom #4, depicting a sinuous creature with an elongated head, so affected Scott that he asked Giger to alter his original design only slightly.
Giger wound up working on the film’s entire production design. “Down the line I realized it made a lot of sense for Giger to design everything that was to do with the alien,” Ridley recalls in the video. “That includes the landscape and the spacecraft.” Giger’s morbid biology-meets-industrial touch can be see everywhere in LV426, but his alien was the showstopper.
Williams says that Giger himself fabricated the costumes, which made good use of his industrial design background. Every piece of the costume was considered, from the mouth-breathing apparatus on its back to the fact that its acidic blood required an acid-resistant exoskeleton (fun fact: the costume incorporated real bones, human and animal). Giger built the xenomorph’s lips from condoms, and nestled a real human skull into the tip of the alien’s cylindrical head. As the video points out, Giger’s aesthetic has become so acknowledged it has its own adjective “Gigeresque.”
In a time where monsters are the result of clicking around on a computer, it’s no wonder we’re still in awe of Giger’s wildly creative alien. Like all movie monsters, it’s a product of an artist’s imagination, but it’s a whole lot scarier when you can actually reach out and touch it.
Robert Vinluan
When it comes to Stranger Things, we’re in a kind of cultural limbo. We’ve dissected all of season 1, right down to the opening titles and props. Now we’re stuck waiting for an as-yet unannounced date in 2017, when season 2 will drop.
In the meantime, here’s a neat toy to tide over any nostalgia cravings: Ramsophone, an online music-maker that lets you click and tap to create your own synthwave score. Designer and developer Robert Vinluan created it, and although he says that “resemblances to the Stranger Things theme may or may not be intentional,” we know what we hear. This is a DIY Stranger Things-style synth machine, and it’s seriously fun.
The Ramsophone sounds like the 1980s, but its looks are firmly rooted in the ’50s and ’60s, when Dieter Rams (after whom the Ramsophome is named) was designing for Braun. The interface features little more than a few white knobs and push buttons to compose your beats, and a tiny red button to turn the music on and off. To mix up the music-maker’s form factor, just refresh the page. You can do this endlessly—Vinluan doesn’t know the exact number of available layouts, but says somewhere between 50,000,000 and 100,000,000 combinations sounds reasonable. His code is available on Github, if you want the nitty-gritty on how that works.
Even with those millions of configurations, the Ramsophone, like a good Braun gadget, keeps it simple. You really can’t mess this up—your score will be perfectly eerie every time.
The Bauhaus never really died. Though the famed German art school existed in physical form for just 14 years, its legacy lives on in many ways. The latest incarnation: Harvard’s massive online archive. The school recently made more than 32,000 digitized artifacts—paintings, drawings, photos, sculptures, and more—available for browsing, and it’s a beautiful time-suck for design lovers.
Harvard’s first Bauhaus show was held in 1930. Organized by undergrads, it was also the first Bauhaus exhibition in the United States. We are revisiting Bauhaus materials, such as this 1930 catalogue, as we prepare to host another Bauhaus exhibition in 2019—the 100th anniversary of the school’s founding. See our profile for the link to the Bauhaus Special Collection. #bauhaus #archives #harvard #bauhaus100 — Image credit: Catalogue of the 1930 Bauhaus exhibition, Harvard Society for Contemporary Art, Harvard University Archives, HUD 3298, Box 1.
A photo posted by Harvard Art Museums (@harvardartmuseums) on
Aug 15, 2016 at 12:17pm PDT
Architect Walter Gropius founded the Bauhaus in 1919 with the goal of creating a utopian school where the disciplines of art and design could overlap and dissolve into a unified artistic language. The school ran workshops on everything from architecture to weaving to graphic design, but its most famous exports, by far, were the people who studied there.
Bauhaus alumni were a prolific and influential bunch. Even after the school shuttered in 1933 due to pressure from the Nazi regime, the artists and designers who studied there continued to spread the school’s teachings. Mies van der Rohe, the architect and final director of the Bauhaus, immigrated to Chicago to become director of the School of Architecture at the Armour Institute, now the Illinois Institute of Technology. Designer Josef Albers departed for Black Mountain College in North Carolina before heading to teach at Yale. Gropius landed at Harvard, where he chaired the Graduate School of Design from 1937 to 1952. And thus began Harvard’s deep ties to the Bauhaus.
Over the years, Bauhaus masters and lesser-known students have donated their work to Harvard’s Busch-Reisinger Museum, giving rise to one of the largest collections of Bauhaus ephemera in the world. Harvard has done an excellent job in making what could be a paralyzing amount of information accessible. The archive is organized by medium and showcases the student work of famed designers. The items are searchable by keyword, title, artist, or object number.
Though the archive helps to contextualize the massive amount of work produced by Bauhaus designers, it frankly doesn’t have much work to do. The Bauhaus’ legacy is already-well established through its long lineage of influential designers— now it’s just easier to find their work.
Anni Albers’s “Design for a Rug” (1927) is one of the more than 32,000 objects whose records are now accessible in our Bauhaus Special Collection. Albers taught in the influential school of modernist art and design active during the years of Germany’s Weimar Republic (1919–33). Bauhaus artists were known for realigning hierarchies of high and low by embracing new technologies, materials, and media. See our profile for the link to the Bauhaus Special Collection. #bauhaus #textile #annialbers #albers #bauhaus100 — Image credit: Anni Albers, “Design for a Rug,” 1927. Drawing. Harvard Art Museums/Busch-Reisinger Museum, Gift of Anni Albers, BR48.49.
A photo posted by Harvard Art Museums (@harvardartmuseums) on
Aug 15, 2016 at 11:14am PDT
Riind
RIIND is a young design studio founded by two MIT engineering graduates, and its first product is a pen.
You might be thinking, okay, two MIT engineers design a pen. It must send digital copies of your writing to your phone via Bluetooth, or enable AI-powered handwriting. But nope. The pen—dubbed, breathlessly, The Pen—is really just a pen. Not a stylus, not an e-pencil, but an ink-to-paper pen that’s made out of aluminum and looks like a bullet. According to RIIND’s Kickstarter page, its founders got the idea for The Pen ($99) in October 2014.
Twenty months worth of engineering later, and The Pen is here. It comes with a suite of features, chief of which is its clip. The clasp rotates to the left or right, making it possible for users to affix it snugly to the inside of a button down shirt, rather than just vertically onto a pocket. Plus, the knurled section at the top of the pen swivels around 180 degrees either way, causing the pen’s tip to protract and retract—a feature the founders say two years to invent. Once the ink cartridge is empty, users can refill it with 35 different kinds of ink—kind of like choosing your preferred font, but, you know, the medieval way.
Leon Neal/AFP/Getty Images
This July, Transport for London (TfL) will roll out a redesign to Johnston, the typeface that’s decorated the London Underground since 1916. The newest iteration is called Johnston100. Designed by type foundry Monotype, it’s the first update to the typeface since the late 1970s, when it was adjusted for new typesetting technology. It’s meant to do two things: (1) Update Johnston so that it’s as legible as possible on screens and (2) Bring back some of the “soul” and “quirk” from the original 1916 design. Off-kilter details like the diagonal bowl on the lowercase ‘g’ and the unusually wide ‘U’ were lost over the years, but have been reintroduced in Johnston100.
Monotype
TfL, the governing body for all things Underground-related, has used Johnston since 1916. Johnston is a friendly, sensible, sans serif typeface that was totally ahead of its time. A calligrapher created it, but its looks are unembellished. That’s largely how it endured all these years; its uncluttered proportions were ideal for a typeface that lives in a frantic, schedule-driven environment like the London Underground.
Monotype
Endure it did, but as prescient as Edward Johnston was about type design, it’s not like he predicted that one day travelers would check train schedules primarily through an app. The other new elements of Johnston100 exist purely to make the typeface internet-appropriate—like the @ and # characters. The original Johnston never had, or needed, those icons. Slapdash ones were added in recent years, but Monotype has carefully redrawn them to fit in with the rest of the font family. This is one way TfL is modernizing its signage; the other is through the five new weights of Johnston100. In its original weight, Johnston would be far too thick to read on a smartphone screen. The new “thin” and “hairline” weights, however, are much more pixel-friendly. That’s a crucial update for users: 100 years after Johnston was born, the London Underground doesn’t exist solely underground. It’s on desktop browsers, touch screens, and in travelers’s pockets.
The True Size Of
Greenland is the Achilles heel of the Mercator map. Despite appearances, our icy neighbor to the north is 1.5 times smaller than India, more than four times smaller than the United States, and 14.5 times smaller than Africa. In fact, Greenland is about the size of Saudi Arabia, though you’d never guess it by looking at the world’s most ubiquitous map.
The Mercator projection is an inherently flawed design. It exaggerates the size of countries closest to the poles while depicting size most faithfully at the equator. Though it was once a handy navigational tool for sailors, the map has instilled in the rest of us a gross misunderstanding of geography and relative country size.
For the perspective-challenged among us, there’s hope yet. A new web app called The True Size Of is an interactive map that its creators, James Talmage and Damon Maneice, hope will give people a better understanding of a country’s true size. Dragging one country across the map causes it to change size and shape in real time, allowing you to place it beside countries at other latitudes and compare their relative sizes. For example, as you overlay the United States on top of Greenland, the former stretches and bloats. Meanwhile, dragging Greenland down toward Saudi Arabia, causes the northerly country to shrink dramatically in size. For even more accuracy, you can use a compass in the bottom lefthand corner of the screen to rotate each country for alignment.
It’s a simple tool, but it’s wildly effective at granting a new perspective on the size and shape of the world’s various land masses. As we all know from years of staring at maps that tell us otherwise, that kind of perspective is pretty hard to come by. You can play with the map here.
Jongha Choi
Jongha Choi has a simple storage solution for your small apartment: Turn your unused furniture into wall art.
For his master’s thesis, Choi, who recently graduated from Design Academy Eindhoven, created benches and stools that lay flat but pop open. He calls it De-dimension, and it’s flatpack with a perceptual twist: a perspective drawing come to life, its planar form conveying the height, width, and depth of the “assembled” stool. In the video, Choi pulls one from the wall and, with a smooth, quick gesture, opens it like the page of a pop-up book.
Click over to Choi’s website and you’ll find that his furniture is the physical embodiment of a thesis exploring heady ideas about perspective and how we perceive the similarities and differences between 2-D and 3-D objects. “If our perception of an object is not different on a plane image and an actual subject,” he asks, “isn’t it possible to substitute the two with each other?” In the case of De-Dimension, the stools and benches are never truly 2-D; but the fact our brains can appreciate their dimensionality, even when flat, is a clever visual trick that would earn Choi an awful lot of money if he decides to sell his designs.
Nazzareno Ruspolini
Your smartphone’s flashlight is good for a few things: Seeing in the dark, for starters. Or waving during a particularly emotional song at a concert. It also happens to be the perfect lightbulb for this tiny 3-D printed lamp.
Italian designer Nazzareno Ruspolini created a series of lamps that clamp onto the side of your phone and sit atop your flashlight. It’s called the Ibat-Jour, and it’s freakin’ adorable. Ruspolini has been making the white accessories for a few years now, and they come in four shapes, as to cater to most decorative preferences.
Looking at the photos, it looks like the semi-translucent lamps do a pretty good job of diffusing what’s otherwise a blinding beam of light. We’re still not sure how practical they are, exactly. But does it matter when they’re this cute?
Daniel Smilkov and Shan Carter
If you’ve recently found yourself wondering what the f*@k neural networks are and how they work, you’re hardly alone. The rise of machine learning has made artificial neural networks—the computer programs that facilitate that learning—a common topic of conversation. Google, Facebook, and most other big players in the tech industry are investing heavily in them. News articles about artificial intelligence (including ours) are littered with references to neural networks.
Still, getting inundated with an idea doesn’t mean you understand it. Daniel Smilkov, a member of Google’s Big Picture Research Group, and Shan Carter, who creates interactive graphics for The New York Times, decided to make the concept more easily digestible. They collaborated to create this interactive data-visualization that lets users toy around with and design their own neural network. It’s not quite kindergarten for neural networks; you need to have a grasp on notions like inputs, regularization, and ratio train data going into what Smilkov and Carter call their “playground.” If you do, the data-viz functions like a plug-and-play interface for trying out different programs. There’s even a play button and a rewind button—if you don’t succeed, just try again.
Beam
Here’s something handy for people who hate Excel. Venngage, the company that lets you make infographics with the click of (a few) buttons, recently launched a new product called Beam. Beam does for charts what Venngage does for infographics as a whole. Which is to say, it makes the process of transforming data into useful visuals very, very easy.
Beam is built on a template. Swap out the default text and data for your own, and you’ve got the bones of a chart. The web tool comes with four chart options—pie, bar, column, and line—and a handful of formatting choices. If we’re being real, the variety isn’t Earth-shatteringly cool. It would be a lot more fun if you could choose your own color scheme as opposed to Beam’s pre-packaged swatches, for example. But what the tool lacks in choice it makes up for in efficiency. Beam holds your hand through the entire process. Embedding the chart is a matter of copy and pasting a link, and Beam makes it super easy to share on social media.
It’s clear that Beam is trying to be the go-to chart design tool for the Instagram set (the company said so itself!). And fair enough—the tool, for better or worse, does democratize the process of making clean, accurate graphics. I’m not sure how many teens are going to be uploading pie charts to their profiles, but who knows. The internet’s seen weirder things.
Pop Chart Labs
Happy birthday, Apple! Today you’re 40.
To celebrate, we’ve compiled a list of the company’s 15 most pivotal products, starting with the design of the iPhone and ending with the San Bernardino iPhone. But to see all of Apple’s products from the past four decades, at once, look to “The Insanely Great History of Apple 3.0” ($90)—a comprehensive visual overview of Apple’s oeuvre, from the folks at Pop Charts Lab. The Brooklyn infographic-makers created the original chart in 2011, when the iPad 2 was the latest innovation. Now, they’ve updated it to include everything up to the iPhone SE and 9.7” iPad Pro, both of which were added to Apple’s lineup after the recent Apple event in Cupertino.
The updated poster, like the original, is organized by year and device category (software, all-in-ones, handhelds, and so on). You can watch as Apple shrinks from the bulky Lisa to the Apple Watch, but you can also see, quite clearly, the impact of Steve Jobs’ return to the company, in 1997. The y-axis of “The Insanely Great History of Apple 3.0” shows the year, and the top half of the chart is a cluster of tiny icons. Toward the poster’s bottom half (which chart’s the period after Apple bought NeXT, and Jobs returned), the data visualization becomes sparser. Apple rolled out the bulbous, colorful iMac, the iBook, and, a few years later, the iPod. The trend toward fewer offerings reflects a shift in Apple’s strategy: Rather than asking consumers to choose between a slew of options, Apple would choose for them.
The post-Jobs years have followed that trend, with the exception of the handheld category, where options remains an important selling point. You can see it spelled out in the data, on the bottom-righthand corner of the poster: it’s a swarm of gadgets, in a range of sizes.
Alamy
New Zealand spent years debating whether to change its national flag. Now, a national referendum has put the idea to rest: New Zealand will keep the Blue Ensign it’s used since 1902.
In keeping the venerable banner, New Zealanders rejected the Silver Fern, designed by architect Kyle Lockwood of Auckland. His design kept the current flag’s four red stars but replaced the Union Jack a silver fern frond as its primary motif. The silver fern is a familiar symbol throughout the country, one used by the All Blacks rugby team and a few official tourism campaigns.
#NZ flag results https://t.co/vljBZKoQjY pic.twitter.com/nzU9fzPUuW
— nzherald (@nzherald) March 24, 2016
Of the votes cast, 56.6 percent were in favor of keeping the current flag, and 43.2 percent favored the fern. Prime Minister John Key, a vocal advocate for this campaign, which cost New Zealand a reported $26 million, told reporters he would not revisit the topic.
After the government announced in October, 2014, that it would consider exploring a new flag, thousands of aspiring designers submitted ideas. Many can only be described as batshit insane, and we’ll let John Oliver tell you about them. But there were plenty of good designs, according to the rules of vexillology, and the Silver Fern was among them. It’s simple enough to remember, but its meaning is unique to New Zealand: local lore traces the fern’s origins to the Māori, the country’s indigenous Polynesian population. Adopting it in place of the Union Jack icon would have symbolically divorced New Zealand’s flag from that of Australia and the United Kingdom.
The Most Dangerous Writing App
“Don’t stop. If you stop typing for more than five seconds, all progress will be lost.”
Those are the directions for The Most Dangerous Writing App, a brutal new web tool designed to help you get over your writer’s block. The app is the work of Manuel Ebert, who describes himself on Twitter as a “Ex-neuroscientist, data wrangler, designer, and engineer.” He’s also a founding partner of Summer.ai, a small data consultancy agency. Ebert made The Most Dangerous Writing App on his own time, and released it for free.
There are lots of tricks for overcoming writer’s block. One of the most commonly prescribed bits of advice is perhaps the most obvious: just write. That could mean banging out a rough draft in one fell swoop, or it could mean pretending like you’re writing in a diary, letting out a stream of consciousness. Or, as editors love to say, “just pretend you’re at a bar, having a beer, talking to your friend.”
The Most Dangerous Writing App
The goal of all these strategies is to force you to get over your ego. Stop waiting for a romantic surge of inspiration and just write. The Most Dangerous Writing App doesn’t care what technique you use, provided you keep typing. If you stop, even for a second, the edges of the screen become tinged with red. The longer you go without typing, the redder the edges become, until, after five seconds of inactivity, your progress is unceremoniously erased. Forever.
While writing this I somewhat predictably experienced a small bout of writer’s block, so I gave the app a try. The interface is a clean, no-nonsense text editor. You’ll find nothing in the way of formatting tools; if it wasn’t already abundantly clear, the app is purpose-built for writing and writing only. It allows for plenty of backspacing and typo-correcting, both of which can be useful for procrastinating in micro-doses, but I mostly felt compelled to write. Somewhere towards the tail end of my five minutes (you can choose to write nonstop for five, 10, 20, 30, 45, or 60 minutes, if you’re a masochist) the pressure starts to set in, and I’m really rambling. The UX is cleverly conceived, if a bit stressful at first (my heart rate went up while I was using it).
The Most Dangerous Writing App
But then, that imposed sense of urgency is the whole point. If you’re someone who thrives under pressure, or feels most productive when you’re working at the eleventh hour, the Most Dangerous Writing App could be a good way for you to apply that pressure, artificially.
And for the record, it did get me over my writer’s block. You’re reading this article now, aren’t you?
Pop Chart Lab
Typography is complicated. Letters are easy enough—we learn the alphabet as children and then cease to consciously notice them as time goes on—but typography, the art of crafting the written language, is a tricky business. Typographers create fonts in type design software, where letters are mapped with a series of coordinates. By tweaking each vector a millimeter here, and a hair there, designers can create the kind of expressiveness that differentiates Baskerville from, say, Courier. Both are serif typefaces, but they feel extraordinarily different.
“The Taxonomy of Typography,” a new print from the Pop Chart Lab poster-makers, explains the typographer’s palette. Painters have colors; typographers have neo-grotesque type, ascenders, and letter-spacing. Like a periodic table of type elements, the chart explains typography by breaking down varieties of type, letter anatomy, measurements and spacing, and typesetting. Whether you’re a type neophyte or a seasoned designer, it’s a handy chart. You can snag one through Pop Chart Lab’s pre-order sale, for $29, here.
Pop Chart Lab
Adam Calhoun
Punctuation is having a moment. There was this book. Then these posters. Now, there’s yet another set of visualizations that looks at the unsung heroes of literature. Inspired by Nicholas Rougeux’s “Between The Words” posters, scientist Adam Calhoun decided to put his own spin on punctuation as visualization.
Calhoun was curious to see how the punctuation in his favorite books stacked up, so he wrote a script that strips the words from the pages. Next to Rougeux’s swirling posters, Calhoun’s visualizations are less abstract, more straightforward. In one, he simply leaves them as-is—a block of periods, commas and dashes in all their geometric, grammatical beauty. In another, he assigns each glyph a color, creating glowing heatmaps that show which marks are most prevalent.
Calhoun takes it one step further by breaking down the data into digestible bar charts that show words per punctuation mark, words per sentence, and overall use of punctuation. Unsurprisingly, Earnest Hemmingway’s “A Farewell to Arms” is lacking in punctuational flourishes, relying only on periods and quotations to fill out the author’s stark writing style. William Faulkner, on the other hand, wasn’t afraid of a wordy sentence and a semicolon or ten.
It’s hard to say what’s behind the recent spike in interest in punctuation. For Calhoun, the intrigue seems to lie in the unspoken impact punctuation has on an author’s writing. For others, it might be that the glyphs, themselves, are admiration-worthy pieces of design. Either way, it’s clearly a good time to be a word nerd.
Adam Calhoun
Ideo, the big-name Silicon Valley design consultancy and propagator of “design thinking,” has sold part of its business and joined the Kyu collective. Kyu is part of Tokyo’s Hakuhodo DY Holdings, and includes other agencies like Sid Lee, Red Peak Group, and Digital Kitchen. The dollar value of the partial acquisition, and the fraction of Ideo’s business that it constitutes, have not been made public.
In a post on Medium, Ideo’s CEO Tim Brown explains:
The rate of change has been dizzying, and today’s advanced technologies — AI, genomics, robotics, data science, the Internet of Things — have so outpaced our industrial-era organizations and infrastructure, they end up hitting institutional cul-de-sacs. The technologies don’t come to a halt, of course, they simply move on, seeking out other places where they race ahead. If our institutions are to survive, they’ll have to create new roadways.
That’s a design problem — one that requires new rules of engagement with a broad set of collaborators. We’re excited to have found those collaborators in a few like-minded design firms.
In the same post, Brown quickly dismisses the idea that Ideo is “caught in the much ballyhooed death spiral of the independent design firm.” Instead, he says the decision to sell a stake in Ideo’s business and join a collective is part of a larger mission to “apply our collective design practice to greater challenges.” Whatever the reason, the business deal fits the larger trend of big firms buying up smaller design studios. McKinsey bought Lunar; Yves Béhar sold a majority stake in fuseproject to the Chinese holding company BlueFocus. In many ways, these transitions aren’t new. There’s a long history of commingling between design and business (more on that here). Ideo is just the latest—and most high-profile—firm to make such a move.
The trash can. The pouring paint can. The happy Mac. Susan Kare designed them all. In creating these and most of the other icons on the original Apple Macintosh, she established the visual language that would form the foundation of point-and-click computing. Here, Kare, icon of icons, talks about the creative decisions behind some of the best-loved symbols of the past four decades.
Kare delivered this presentation at last year’s Layers Design Conference in San Francisco, but the video was only recently posted online. It’s full of fresh observations about the creative process, insights about her time at Apple, and advice for designing with accessibility in mind; so even if you’re familiar with Kare and her work, we’re willing to bet you’ll find something new here. We knew from Kare’s 2013 book, for example, that the command icon (⌘) was originally a symbol used to denote interesting features at Swedish campgrounds, but the story of how she stumbled upon the symbol in the first place, and how she weighed its merits at the time, was new to us. (Her description of her first trip to Sweden, decades after she copped the command icon for Apple, is also pretty damn charming.)
Her talk’s about half an hour long and well worth watching in its entirety. The second half of the video, a Q&A between Kare and Daring Fireball’s John Gruber, is also worth a watch.
Abrams/Aaron Draplin
Aaron Draplin is sort of like the Bernie Sanders of graphic design. While plenty of graphic designers prefer to play inside baseball, Draplin, who runs Draplin Design Company out of Portland, is a design evangelist for the everyman.
He’s got a bushy beard, a DGAF attitude, and, you know, a bunch of really awesome graphic design work to his name. He’s done identities for Patagonia and Nike Skateboarding, record covers for Conor Oberst, print work for WIRED, and is the guy behind those ubiquitous Field Notes notebooks.
Draplin is a branding man who’s ultimately become a brand himself. Now the designer is dropping a book called “Pretty Much Everything” (out May 17), and according to the official announcement it’s going to be a “mid-career survey of work, case studies, inspiration, road stories, lists, covers, and logos.” Chances are it’s probably going to be pretty damn funny, too. Stay tuned for more information.
In March 2013, the Bay Bridge in San Francisco lit up. Artist Leo Villareal designed a massive installation that transformed the bridge that stretches between Oakland and San Francisco into a canvas of shimmering lights. It was public art on a grand scale; like the Eiffel Tower in Paris, only bigger. Some numbers: 25,000 lights, 1.8 miles long, 500 feet high.
It twinkled for two years and then in March of 2015, the lights turned off. Now, just in time for the Super Bowl, the lights are coming back. Thanks to $4 million in funding, Illuminate the Arts commissioned Villareal to design a new light show, which we can only assume will surpass the original in terms of ambition. They turn on tomorrow evening (Jan. 30), and this time, word is, they’re sticking around for good.
Mattel
Barbie just got a redesign. The iconic doll now comes in four different sizes: petite, tall, curvy, and original. You know the original size—it’s the one that, if Barbie were a life-size human woman, would leave her with a 16-inch waist and an inability to walk on her own two feet. It’s also the size that’s outraged critiques for years, prompting Mattel to make a radical design move. That move was unveiled this morning, in a TIME magazine cover story. The TIME story covers the business and design choices that went into launching the new Barbie body styles, but it also sheds some light on the origins of Barbie’s unattainable figure:
Barbie has courted controversy since her birth. Her creator, Ruth Handler, based Barbie’s body on a German doll called Lilli, a prostitute gag gift handed out at bachelor parties. Her proportions were designed accordingly. When Handler introduced Barbie (named after her daughter Barbara) in 1959 at the New York Toy Fair, her male competitors laughed her out of the room: nobody, they insisted, would want to play with a doll with breasts. Still, Barbie’s sales took off, but by 1963 women were protesting the same body men had ridiculed. That year, a teen Barbie was sold with a diet book that recommended simply, “Don’t eat.” When a Barbie with pre-programmed phrases uttered, “Math class is tough,” a group called the Barbie Liberation Organization said the doll taught girls that it was more important to be pretty than smart.
The new sizing lexicon is deliberately neutral, but in plain English it means that in addition to the original doll you can now buy a short Barbie, a tall Barbie, or a Barbie with hips, thighs, and a hint of meat on her bones. It’s this last one—curvy Barbie—that is the real game changer, and the one that’s stirring up reactions. They are, of course, mixed:
So love this! ABOUT TIME! Can I lob in a request for #PowerLiftingBodyBarbie?! @barbie @mattel https://t.co/9LT3zFqwST — Sarah Robb O’Hagan (@SarahRobbOh) January 28, 2016
Look. Here’s why curvy @Barbie matters to me: I tell my daughters my body is normal, all bodies are normal, but their dolls don’t back me up
— Mena Vuvalini (@filamena) January 28, 2016
Curvy Barbie? She represents the first institutional voice to ever tell me my body type is pretty *now*, not in some golden past. — Tenderly Punk (@sweetpavement) January 28, 2016
Im happy and cautious in my sentiments of this change–what Barbie is doing is beautiful! Yes it was spurred by $ losses but they’re a Corp
— Tatiana King Jones (@TatianaKing) January 28, 2016
The new Barbie looks like me if I lost twenty pounds in my arms and nowhere else, basically — Rachel Feltman (@RachelFeltman) January 28, 2016
the fact that it’s just a new kind of Barbie & not like, Barbie’s Fat Friend is making me real happy, is all
— AC Sullivan (@GOODNESSaidan) January 28, 2016
Curvy #Barbie? That’s good. Now, where’s #DadBod Ken? — BigHeadSports (@BigHeadSports) January 28, 2016
The Guggenheim Museum in New York City is as much a tribute to architecture as it is to art. The building, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, is a wonder to wander through, with its soaring atrium and gleaming, spiraled ramps. It’s a museum best experienced in person, of course—but for those of who can’t make it in the flesh, good news: You can now visit through your computer.
Following museums like the Museum of Modern Art and the Tate in London, the Guggenheim is the latest addition to Google’s expanding Cultural Institute project, which has digitized more than 32,000 pieces of artwork from more than 150 museums around the world since 2011. Using Google’s Street View technology, digital visitors can now explore Wright’s building, ascending and descending its ramp with a digital pair of feet. More than 120 artworks have also been digitized and made available online.
The museum explains it was quite the challenge to capture the essence of the building, given its unique architecture. Apparently, it took a fleet of drone, tripod, and street view trolley cameras to get the shots that were then stitched together for a 360-degree view. We have to admit that, while it’s way cooler to see see the museum IRL, the circularity of the Guggenheim does lend itself quite nicely to the 360 experience.
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The Danish have a word, hygge, that crudely translates to “cozy.” More accurately, it translates to, that profoundly content feeling you get when it’s frigid outside but you’re inside wearing flannel and drinking hot toddies in front of a fire.
Hygge, pronounced “hoo-gah,” is a bit of a polysemy. It’s derived from the Norwegian word for “well-being,” and you can feel hygge, be hygge, or do hygge. Denmark’s official tourism website has a page called “The art of Danish hygge,” which explains that hygge high season starts at Christmas, “when Danes pull out all the hygge stops,” but reassures you that you can still experience hygge in the summer. “Picnics in the park, barbeques with friends, outdoor concerts, street festivals and bike rides can all be very hygge.” According to the BBC, hygge is even a course subject at Morley College in London.
Hygge is also the best way to explain the principles of Scandinavian design. Think of it like an aesthetic adaptation to the harsh winters there; when it’s below freezing and dark for 16 hours a day, making your indoor environment warm and welcoming is imperative. As Fredrik Carlström, the founder of a Scandinavian design studio called Austere, put it to me (in a separate interview), “Scandinavian design isn’t austere. It’s what is outside that’s austere and it makes our homes really nice.” It’s why furniture and lighting from that part of the world is of such high caliber.
If you’re not yet hip to hygge, now might be a good time to embrace the Danish attitude towards the cold. Menacing news reports of the “crippling” and “deadly” blizzard that’s headed for the east coast will remind you to stock up on bottled water and batteries. (And you should, we’re not here to be flippant about potentially dangerous storms). But hygge, aptly described by this travel website as, “the art of creating intimacy,” might help you pull through, too.
Nike
Since opening its World Headquarters in Beaverton, Oregon, in 1990, Nike has consistently augmented its campus. The latest expansion was just announced, and it’s 3.2-million square feet of ziggurat-like buildings, parking areas, and mixed-use facilities.
That’s massive. By comparison, Apple’s new spaceship campus will be a reported 2.8-million square feet. To pull it off, the athletic wear company is working with three different studios—ZGF Architects, SRG Partnership, and Skylab Architecture—and one landscape architecture firm. Judging from the materials available, it’s early days for the expansion. Nike released two renderings. One is an aerial view of the arrayed offices that “takes inspiration from human movement, speed and the strength and energy of competition.” The other shows off a basketball court and a series of outdoor staircases that echo Renzo Piano’s famous design for the Centre Georges Pompidou in Paris. CEO Mark Parker said the new designs are good for employees, which makes them good for the athletes who wear Nike’s stuff. “We relentlessly evolve how we inspire our own teams and design environments that foster chemistry and collaboration.” It’s slated to open in 2018.
Threadbase
As simple as a t-shirt is, the more it becomes a sartorially accepted wardrobe staple, the more we expect out of it. The folks over at Threadbase, a newly launched data project, know this and are here to help. The founders are on a mission to, “organize clothing data and make it searchable,” and for their inaugural database, they’ve analyzed men’s t-shirts, by washing, drying, measuring, and weighing an insane 800 of them.
Threadbase’s findings, rendered in chart form, tell you that a size small Uniqlo crew neck shirt is the same size as a medium Alternative Apparel crew neck shirt, chest width-wise. They inform you that Alternative Apparel, Banana Republic, and H&M sell some of the shortest t-shirts out there. It also explains that with tees, weight—a sensory detail that can often evoke a sense of luxury—does not correlate to price. And much, much more.
A t-shirt is a personal thing—a 2013 story in The New York Times Sunday Magazine said that 9 out of every 10 Americans clings to at least one old shirt for sentimental reasons. Maybe you like your tees boxy, or heavy, or especially resilient, when tumbling around a dryer set on high heat. Either way, this impressively granular batch of data might help.
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Here is a recently erected church in Taiwan that’s shaped like a shoe. The structure is over fifty feet tall, and was designed by local government officials in Taiwan’s Southwest Coast National Scenic Area.
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