Yo. Remember all those other entries I posted here, where I flippantly ended with “more on this later”?? Well I lied. I want to come clean and tell you about it. The deal is: IT IS MY THESIS SEMESTER. Which I means I spend all my time staying up all night, finding exciting new ways to graphically design things, and also bracing new methods of not throwing up from drinking too much shitty 7-11 coffee.

But so: I love you. And I just wanted to make that clear: it is not because I don’t love you that I don’t post shit here right now. It’s not you, you see… IT IS ME. Yes.

So yeah I’ll pop my head in from time to time, especially when there is some sort of news that might vaguely appeal to people who are not in graduate programs for graphic design. Any real internet-posting activity that I generate will be on GraphicDesignOnAWhiteBackground.com, my thesis site; my thesis-related tumblelog; ffffound — despite its problems, I keep crawling back for more) — and del.icio.us. Other web thingees will get updated as sporadically as this one, I should wager.

Yeah. But yeah so right now I do have some possible non-nerd news: I have a show of posters up in the RISD GD gallery, over in the Design Center. The key word here is “possible”: the show is called “Graphics Design in the White Cube”, and consists of posters covered with graphic design theory and criticism, both mine and others. That, actually, is possibly the least non-nerdy premise I could come up with, I know… but the deal is that all gallery patrons (putatively including YOU!) get to WRITE DIRECTLY on many of these posters, with the provided Sharpies. Your bemarkered criticism could be as blunt as the word “NERD” scrawled across my hard work, and I would thank you for it, really.

For reals, tho: people have already scrawled in with all kinds of interesting tidbits… way more than I’ve expected, and I just opened it up last Friday. I realize that saying “hey you should write on the poster!” is potentially a cheezy move — at worst, a cop-out — but it actually seems to be working. Who knew.

So anyway, come by and see! I’ll write more here in the summer, definately, but until then, RISD has my balls, effectively, for a few more weeks. Indeed yes. Until then.

-fish

Yo. It’s, erm, 2008. Back at school, trying to wrap it all up and get it out the fucking door — “it” being the entirety of my graduate education, of course. You can sort of see what it looks like here; at the moment, there are a billion little unraveling minutiae to be dealt with: bureaucratic, social, financial, emotional, physiological… and of course my struggle to contend with all of them is wonderfully enriched by the overbearing fact that the genesis of each of these dumb little things, originally, was a fuck-up or oversight on my part. Like forgetting to fill out a super-important form, or sleeping through my alarm when I had an important meeting… Blech. It sucks. The whole mess simply will not die quietly, much like a zombie, or the Cloverfield monster. It’s been a rough two months or so.

See why I’ve been keeping my blog-mouth shut?? So. Anyway I will spare you the worst of the retarded gripes. But so, what I have for you is this: last night, I had to do a bunch of writing excercises, and to distract myself late at night, I concocted the following design-music-cosmology system. I’ll dish up more stuff soon, now that classes have started again and I am therefore less droolingly antisocial. Fuck yes.

…

So. LET:

architecture = 80’s pop-rock,
graphic design = hip hop,

THEN:

type design = turntablism,
interior architecture = late 80’s alt-rock,
(… e.g. Atelier van Lieshout = The Pixies)
book design = the Wu-Tang Clan,
poster design = Tupac,
news/editorial design = Biggie,
web design = 50 Cent,
info design = the Ultramagnetic MC’s,
letterpress poster art = Snoop Dogg,

THEREFORE:

Design*Sponge = Russell Simmons.

AND:

urban design and urban planning = 90’s crybaby alt-rock,
contemporary art = American Idol,
furniture design = jazz,
textile design = The cross-genre continuum consisting of everyone ever cited or otherwise referenced by LCD Soundsystem, Mr. Murphy et al and his close associates, and all those who will come after them and rip them off,
apparel design = electroclash.

SO THEN:

package design = the Fugees,
contemporary calligraphy = the Digable Planets,
Felice Varini = Autechre,
exhibit design = Licensed to Ill by the Beastie Boys,

BUT THEN, LET:

structural engineers = rock drummers,
(… e.g. Cecil Balmond = Lars Ulrich, etc)
CAD = MIDI,
O-CAD = MAX/MSP,
BIM and parametric systems = Ableton Live,

THEREFORE:

Frank Gehry = the Postal Service,

AND:

Hektor = Atom and his Package.

FURTHERMORE:

critical theory = reggae,

THEN:

digital ethnography = Shaggy,
contemporary video art = Buju (or maybe Anthony B),
net.art (quote-unquote) = Bob Marley,
architectural theory = Rusted Root (or Dave Matthews, or maybe even 311, or some shit like that),
media theory = Hootie and the Blowfish,
Fluxus = the T-Connection (circa the reign of Kool Herc).

AND THEN:

motion graphics = the Black-Eyed Peas,
just video and film editing = just Fergie,
database design = the Game,
web-nerd non-design stuff = the rest of G-Unit in general,

THUS IT FOLLOWS:

industrial design = delta blues,
magazine design = Octagon-era Kool Keith,
contemporary painting = Will Smith,
contemporary sculpture = Eminem,
Bio-art = Rihanna.

IN CONCLUSION:

DADA = Run-DMC,
surrealism = Check Your Head by the Beastie Boys,
Andy Warhol = Robert Smith,
Marcel Duchamp = Kraftwerk,
Le Corbusier = Paul McCartney,
Robert Moses = John Lennon,
Jane Jacobs = Yoko Ono,
Robert Irwin = Sun-Ra,
Robert Venturi = Led Zeppelin,
Tibor Kalman = Sean Combs,
Benjamin Franklin = Elvis Presley.

A few months ago, I wrote an article about the collaborative image-bookmarking site ffffound, which ran on SpeakUp and is archived here as part of Writing Design Criticism. My initial assesment of ffffound was super-mega-thumbs-up, but the more I’ve used the site, the more I got kind of bothered by certain fundamental aspects of it. So here’s a devils’-advocate rebuttal to my own article. Indeed.

OK, so: ffffound is to graphic design what Napster was to music. Seriously. Look: I used to blow hundreds of dollars at Other Music and Tower and Satellite and Fat Beats, et al, making my feet sore walking to as many record stores as I could in one fell swoop, all to find that elusive catchy hook or strange beat that I’d overheard someone cooler than me talking about on the train or someshit. But: then came Napster, and its various P2P children and grandchildren, and I didn’t have to leave my seat. Based on the music-snob knowledge I’d already amassed, I could feed the right words into the search engines of the darknet (PDF), and lo: all the music I wanted was just a status bar away.

Now, I go to a record store maybe once a year. Yeah, of course I go to see bands I like whenever I can, and of course I always buy CDs and other merch direct from the table, to assuage the guilt from my gluttony, and to support the music — in that order. I love music with all my heart, and it is that love that keeps this cycle so fantastically well-oiled, throughout all the complex circumlocutions and moralizations that surround the muddled notion of digital copyright infringement.

Similarly (nay, analogously), I used to buy books and read blogs and ferret out design morsels in the library and elsewhere… but now I just look at ffffound. For example: the other day, while I was doing a diagram for a collaborative book my class is putting out on lulu, I skipped through both my personal ffffound archives and those of the ffffound front page, and lasered off about 20 letter-sized images that somehow spoke to what I was doing. Each reflected my idea in some facet of their design — in their type contrasts, maybe, or in their visualization methodology, or in their basic form, or what have you — but they all were from seriously far-flung sources, only temporarily united in the service of my quest only by virtue of their status as ffffound objects.


Figure 1. Some of ffffound’s most popular images.

I pinned them on the wall, sketched a bit, conferred with my colleagues, sketched more, and knocked out the diagram. In the course of all this, I did not pause for a moment and sink into a comfy chair with my well-thumbed edition of The Visual Display of Quantitative Information, nor did I lovingly tease any slowly-oxygenating prints out of my graduated colleagues’ flatfiles, or anything like that. I pretty much stayed in my standard I-am-designing-shit pose, which was: hunched over a computer. Printouts notwithstanding… If I’d had a monitor that was large enough, or if I hadn’t needed to collaborate with my friends in order to do the thing that I was doing, I wouldn’t have even bothered with the lasers (which laserprints — let’s admit it — are totally screentastic in their glossy quick’n’dirtiness).

The point is: ffffound has emerged as a single repository where I can instantly gratify my urge to see new design thingees. I can root through dozens of pieces of other people’s work, with nothing to give me pause, making no payments of any kind, and with no consequence. It was one thing, back in the early days, when the Internet was brand-new… wow! So much design, so much of it from far away, and all right at your fingertips! But you still had to work for it, and engage with your subject matter. To do design research — and I use that term provisionally here — with a computer, you had to balance queries to Corbis with those to Nexis. You had to know when to root through your bookmarks for samples from some weird blog, and when to hit up Flickr or the Prelinger archives, or when to pack it in and buy a fucking stock image of a woman walking along a beach with a sunset.

Or when to stand up from the computer and look in a book. Or when to talk to someone who would know.


Figure 2. Good design. Via ffffound.

Ffffound gives you all that stuff in one place, all conveniently pre-curated by a slaverishly devoted volunteer staff of designers and design fans. You don’t have to have been blessed with one of its coveted invites to subscribe to its main RSS feed, and then there you go: a fountain of fresh design, photography, and art, right there in your feed reader, with new stuff piped in from the zeitgeist minute by minute. Sure, the system hasn’t got any tags or search boxes, yeah, but with a modicum of hunting around, you can find a user whose tastes appeal to your desires, and subscribe to their individual feed. And kablam: their graphic tastes are at your fingertips whenever you like. Ffffound’s look-but-don’t-post invite-only policy promotes a distribution model similar to that which was engendered by Napster and its P2P descendants, in which a small number of taste-making uploaders can distribute a schmorgasboard of content to hordes of downloaders in a vastly asymmetric fashion. But by passing out invitations through the social network of its users, ffffound follows in the footsteps of OiNK (the now-legendary BitTorrnet music hub) in creating a self-reinforcing community standard. Invites only go to those who users think would use ffffound “right”, the nature of which can only be gleaned from observation.

Figure 3. Tips for designers who want to be ffffound. Ripped off from this.

Much as psychoacoustically compressed audio files are delivered minus the grounding context of record packaging and liner notes, images on ffffound are ripped from their context and tossed upon the totalizing non-ground that is the sites’ white background. The “quoted from” link that ffffound furnishes is, in many cases, completely useless — bookmarking an image after going directly to its URL simply renders the “quote” link redundant. Furthermore, if such a directly-posted image is from a site with many users (like flickr, say, or facebook) it is impossible to trace the post back to the page in which it was originally situated. The “quoted from” link is also less than compatible with blogs: if I post to ffffound from a blogs’ front page, and the blogger puts up a few new entries, the originating article will move off of the page. To find the source of the image, then, you’d have to root through the blogs’ archive… a task which ranges from eye-rollingly irritating to nigh-impossible, depending on whose site you’re specifically concerned with.


Figure 4. This image is extremely popular on ffffound (as you can see here)… but the user responsible for the flickr page from which it’s taken seems to have copied it, with no attribution, from this guy. Ffffound’s lack of user control and annotation prevents this fact from being noted within ffffound in any way.

And but so: ffffound users could themselves navigate to the right URLs, only posting images when it is respectful (morally, if not legally) to do so. But they don’t. I know I don’t: when I see an image I like on the internet these days, I almost immediately ask, “is it ffffindable??” I have even caught myself thinking this about actual physical objects I see in real life:


Figure 5. Rrrreal llllife ffffound. It was inevitable.

See, what really drives ffffound, though, is love. I love finding and sharing and swapping and trading ffffound images until I’m swimming in them. We all do. It’s sorta like the card game War, and sorta like going to Printed Matter… sorta del.icio.us and sorta HotOrNot (or, more currently, commandshift3). But I am starting to fear that that love may eventually create something nasty. Ffffound already has climbed to the top of many designers’ bookmark lists; the individuals behind some of the more popular design blogs, like SwissMiss and SpeakUp, have presences on ffffound. Such high-profile endorsement legitimizes ffffound as a resource, and allows visitors to gloss over the complex issues of attribution and intellectual property as they ogle ffffound’s visual schmorgasbord. I fear that with each image we post to it, ffffound gets riper for some sort of reckoning in these perilously unresolved arenas.


Figure 6. Escape, from Mandatory Thinking.

We shall see. Will they add more features? Will they take some away? Will the site remain in beta, or will it open its doors to the public? Will an imitator challenge ffffound’s hegemonous hold on “image bookmarking”? Will such an imitator fall first to legal scuffles? Who the fuck knows. I do not. Yeah.

(Anyway. I’m compiling notes for a longer, non-designy entry about me and my big fat life, but in the meantime, there’s always the tumblelogs, in regular and MFA thesis flavors. Indeed. Salud!

Yo. Before I forget, there are many miscellaneous things you should know. I will now list them.

• Bryan and I were up very late indeed making and installing the SPACE ROCKS! poster (as you see above), and it would be great if you came! It’s next Saturday at the GSD, and a bunch of graphic designers and artists, etc, will be speaking about SPACE. And how it ROCKS, no doubt… the full info is here. Indeed!
• In the course of the making of this poster, I paired Johnston ITC with Mr. Barnbrook’s Bastard Fat, which I am like rilly pleased with in some perverse way. I can’t explain that shit. Rilly, you tell me:

• The day after that, though, I got totally busted by the Mason building’s sysadmin for circumventing the school’s print system. He had documentation of how much ink I had (allegedly!) used, down to the microliter or somesuch. So I am now in some serious trouble. Whoops.
• I love ffffound. My paean to it has been up on SpeakUp for a little while, so maybe you knew that, but still. It’s fucking awesome. Yeah.
• My show went up. I call it “my show”, which is wrong, really; I was one of many many participants in what was the graphic design graduate show, which I curated along with Jerlyn and Hoon. So not at all entirely mine (although I did do the identity posters for it) but in my mind I still call it “my show”, however erroneous that might be. Erm. It was a blast, I’ll have you know, yis.
• Through all of these things, I took copious notes on tumblr, where I post both thesis-related and non-thesis-related miscellaneous shit. In the course of our space rocks work bender, Bryan asked me what the value-add of tumblr was, and I described it much as I described ffffound’s allure: more of a value-subtract, really; the lack of control over minutia that you have with most bloggy things (tags, comments, RSS, APIs, etc) make it kind of a pleasure to use. Many of my friends have been using them, because who cares about most blog features? I, for one, could give less of a shit, for the most part, and so yeah hey.
• I got the thirty-inch monitor, like finally, and the ipod touch, on an impulse. Laura pointed out that these are exactly the things I’d throw out my window, if I wanted to make a Yaz record… but frankly I like “Situation” and its ilk as they are, for the moment. The one thing I will always go gaga for is a bigger fucking monitor, and I think I can safely say with this one that I’m good for a little while w/r/t monitor envy and whatnot. Ok. Yes!
• Looking for thesis advisors. Need to find them, like this week. Can’t I summon my recently graduated friends???? Argh.
• Sleep cycle is pretty fucking abnormal. As such I will kill this list now, cuz bleah. But yeah I have to churn out the writing for thesis, so there will be more drivel here soon, I will warn you. Yis!

love ya

-fish

Yo. So I realize that I throw the term graphics design around without defining it, and that is bad. I would like to take a momet to point out that graphics design is a separate idea and methodology from graphic design. Although graphics designers frequently utilize tools also employed by graphic designers — most notably Photoshop — the practice of graphics design employs its own unique approach to key sub-disciplines, such as illustration, typography, and composition logic.

I thought the history of the phrase was relatively straightforward and local. To wit: At the beginning of fall semester last year, Sue spotted an 8x10” laser-printed ad with tear-off phone numbers, set in Times New Roman via Microsoft Word, advertising the need for a “graphics designer”. The ad went on to detail a fantastically shitty proposition in which you, the putative graphics designer, would do a fantastic spectrum of horribly grueling work for the company in question. Furthermore, you wouldn’t get paid, but “the work would contribute to your portfolio” or some such nonsense.

Sue plucked this ad from the provence of whatever bulletin board she found it, and stuck it on the interior door of the studio. It was the root cause of a great deal of amusement, and the term has fallen into common parlance around here, generally in reference to ridiculous work or amusing addenda to grad student life. Marcos, for example, is new this year, but he employs the term as fluidly as those who were here last year.

I was wrong about all this. Graphics design is a discipline which is alive and well in a scope that far excedes our studio walls, even now. It exists as a parallel to our practice of graphic design, much like the shadow police agency Phillip K. Dick outlined in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep. I present to you the following:

… I was searching flickr for images of Sue’s original find, and I found the above flyer (originally at this source). This unrelated work sums up exactly what ours did, but it comes from a different place and time. Further cursory googling revealed this website.

It is clear from these examples that graphics design is an entity whose evolution is interlocked with graphic design in some sort of unendingly complex 4-dimensional ballet. That one “s” at the end of “graphics” there makes so much of a difference that I had to point it out. So. Now you know. Tell a friend. Yis.

Yo. We’re having a graphics design gallery show, and I am one of the curators. In this context “curator” does not mean what you think it means, but that notwithstanding, it’s going to be a blast, and I am doing all that I can to assure this putative blastedness comes to fruition. This is the email I sent:

A PSEUDO-LINEAR AMALGAM

of work by GRADUATE-LEVEL members

of the GRAPHIC DESIGN PROGRAM,

on view at the SOL KOFFLER GALLERY

at the RHODE ISLAND SCHOOL OF DESIGN,

from OCTOBER 19th through NOVEMBER 4th,

with an OPENING RECEPTION

to inaugurate things properly

at 7:00 PM on OCTOBER 18th.



Your presence at the reception is HUMBLY REQUESTED.

We will, of course, furnish WINE and CHEESE,

and many of the DESIGNERS THEMSELVES

will available for SCINTILLATING CONVERSATION.

… I would add that the wine and cheese is free, and that the Sol Koffler gallery is to be found at 169 Weybossett street in Providence, and you should fucking be there.

The whole thing is pushing my typical sleep-lite school schedule to the absolute max, so more after the fact. Fuck yes!

-fish

PLEASE NOTE: the following bit contains information about the iphone, including (but not limited to) my opinion about the iphone, thus rendering it of little consequence to basically anyone on Earth.

So I had an iphone, for about 24 hours. The virtual keyboard was a total dealbreaker. Maybe my fingers are too fat, maybe they have been spoiled by the tactile feedback afforded to me by my blackberry… regardless, the iphones’ input method was a dog. I mean yeah, you go to the apple store, you play around with one, and perhaps you think (as I did), “wow, that iphone is quite a sexy litte number”. But the thing did not stand up to actual standard use.

Then also, the whole lack of text-selection and copy-paste, and the interface quirkiness (it’s all very well thought out, as anyone will tell you, but that is exactly the problem: it is well thought out, but that hardly guarantees intuitiveness to anyone who is less than 100% cerebral in the manner in which they use their fingers) and the rather strained ichat metaphor for txting… and, and, and. It’s cute, but it fails. Plus, what is with the email options? It will check for new messages either a) never; b) once every 15 minutes, or c) once every half-hour??? What the fuck am I, twelve years old???? My ugly-ass blackberry (to which I have reverted) gets my email as soon as you fling it at me.

Plus, you know, six hundred dollars is class money.

Yeah so yeah. I didn’t drink no Kool-aid. Just so you know. You wouldn’t think that, necessarily, given that you can’t swing a dead cat in my personal living space without knocking over at least 8 or so apple products, but anyway no. Not this time.

Anyway. It’s been a pretty good summer, despite the fact that I spent most of it completely freaking out and acting generally antisocial. For a while there, I didn’t really want to do anything except draw letters and write code. I was fortunate enough to live near Christian (and indeed I still am, for a few more weeks), cuz he would drag me out and make me drink beers, even when I was maximally clammed up. He would then altruistically permit me to effusively babble on about whatever it was that I was thinking about at the time (usually type design) while graciously and generously not smacking me in the face. Really, I couldn’t ask for much more.

So yeah yeah. A few more projects to wrap up, and then it will be fall. I suppose this was my last “summer break”, but really I had such a blast doing actual work, such that the very idea of a “summer break” is complete moot. I am ready for the REAL WORLD, again; bring it on I say. I do have to get through this nastay thesis thing, and then ok yeah. Yeah! I’ll see you back here next year… you can buy me a beer at Enid’s, and I’ll draw a typeface for you. Yes.

I have a chronic and long-standing hatred and contempt for my own work. It’s endemic to the profession, generally… like the common cold of design. Or really, any field where making things out of ideas is the stock and trade.

But so: my dear friend GAC, if you don’t know him, is a supremely excellent photographer based in PHL. He can really point a camera at stuff, and he can really whip a llama’s ass with a belt. After I fretted publicly about not having decent photos of my design crapola, he suggested that he might assuage my stated disparity, and we hatched a plan. We had a raucous 24-hour work-bender-photoshoot, some of the results of which you see here.

But yeah: so it’s really really really fucking nice to see someone else seeing your stuff. Whatever one might say about the stuff in question (and a lot of this is debatably not even “my stuff”), it feels SO GOOD to see it from a point of view that is somehow liberated from your own weatherbeaten prism. Like an eyeball massage or someshit. Yes.

Anyway. I’m just sayin’. Wanted to share and all. You should do this, really, if you’re stuck: have your friend do your portfolio, and do theirs in return. It’ll be awesome.

And yeah I’m sure you already know all this shit already, but I am nothing if not grotesquely naive. I mean, I got swindled out of my gizmos by a pituitary mutant. So you probably saw it all coming a mile away. C’est la guerre, no? Yis!

Yo. Portfolio is up, more or less, in BETA MODE. Indeed, I do think Google’s greatest innovation was cementing the term BETA in popular parlance, providing us as such with a far more palatable term than “unfinished”.

Blech. But so more to come with that. Need to find someone who will photograph all my physical design objects (books, posters, etc) for cheap. Need to unfuck that header typeface, need to pull some entries, need to add a few more thingees. Need to rewrite the javascript with jQuery and all that. Blah blah blah, yes yes. But so yeah, watch that space. Yes.

Anyway. Went back to Providence for the 4th this week. After a month of bklyn living, the “I need to get the fuck out of the city” feeling had been percolating, despite the fact that bklyn is supremely awesome in every measureable way. So it turned out ot be serendipidously nice to leave. I went for a walk on the cliffs by the Providence bay, which is something I first did like two years ago. Indeed.

Of course, I have no pictures of that, or of the gorgeous sunset that followed… you will have to make do with this ratty flashed-out pic of my home studio wall. As I said previously: blech! Ok yeah. more later. Yes.

I took out my tongue ring, and quit smoking. I made a list of people with whom I no longer wish to communicate, and deleted their entries from my fone. I made another list of people for whom my love is disproportionaltely greater than the amount of time I spend talking to them, and vowed to rectify this disparity. I started working in Merce’s studio again, and with relish. I wrote some code for them that does not viscerally disgust me. I have been using a bunch of 4GL/mainframe/non-RDBMS techniques for all this (hence the entry title), the mere fact of which is enough to make me laugh out loud. I am also a gigantic nerd, for the record.

I started to start a company/studio/collective with two of my dearest friends, and I am very excited about this. I started to do a website for a friend of mine, for which I have already designed a typeface, which of course is far from perfect (or even “decent” or “readable”, really, at this point), but is thus far super fucking entertaining. I also started to do a book for another of my dear friends, like of her artwork, and it’s a supreme pleasure to make a book of someone else’s shit, vis a vis my own, let me fucking tell you.

I went to the infamous Glass House, by the late Mr. Johnson. I took many pictures, and watched the Cunningham dancers dance. I missed my mom for all this, but less in a mopey way and more in a corner-of-your-mouth-smile you’d-love-to-see-this sort of way, which wasn’t 100% terrible, I am glad to report.

I am generally doing pretty fucking well, I should say.

I like working in places that are not explicitly design studios, because then I start to do wierd shit, because I have to impovise with the materials I have on hand (a condition which has, historically, yielded hillarious results). I have yet to get internet in my house, so I have been making do with coffee spots and royally crappy stolen wifi, which is similarly good because it stems the torrent of inbound distractions. I am at Supercore right now, in fact, and it’s beyond fantastic, despite the fact that they plugged all of their electrical outlets up with silly putty, or someshit, thus forcing wifi freeloaders like myself to cling desperately to the last dregs of our laptop batteries.

In a nutshell.

-fish

We had final crits for Reinfurt’s studio yesterday. I will tell you: I have seen some serious nonsense at crits, in my day. Up at iEAR, people would go through the most absurd shit to avoid confronting the truth about their work. Ditto RISD, of course. But yesterday’s bullshit was super fucking unprecedented, in like every way. I am not going to go into it, really; it’d end up being a bunch of “and he was like … and so we were all like …” type of stuff, but I will in fact offer the following images as proof of the utter histrionic catastrophe that it was.

Figure 1. Rob Giampetro hitting a fucking piñata with a broom handle.

Figure 2. Isaac being all like “WHAT THE FUCK??”

Figure 3. Me being all like “WHAT THE FUCK??”

Figure 4. Bethany Johns being all like “WHAT THE FUCK??”, Sesame Street style.

… so yeah. Most of it wasn’t quite as ridiculous, but that ending there took some serious cake, I’d say. Blaaaaagh. This is why people so frequently roll their eyes when uttering the phrase “graduate school”, isn’t it? It really is, really, like for reals. Yes.

But yes. Things are wrapping up nicely, here. For example, our MFA graduate show opened up the other night. Considering they’re having it in the Providence convention center this year (vs. the RISD museum, which is being renovated or somesuch), I’m pleased to say it actually kind of works. Usually this show consists primarily of the second-rate crapola that people have lying around their studios after their big final crits or final shows, or what have you, but in this case people pulled it together and rocked out. Also, the show itself was well-considered enough to work at the rather massive “convention center” scale, which was, like, a pleasant suprise. Indeeeeed. Breanne has pictures up, too. Yes.

Anyway. Now I’m in New York. Going to look at sublets… if you have a sublet that I could rent from you for june/july/august, and involves NO ROOMMATES and preferably is in Greenpoint, then by all means, lemme at it. Otherwise yeah, wish me luck, and I’ll meet you at the Shake Shack in two weeks for lunch. Fuck yes!

-fish

PS. Even more on SpeakUp / WDC, this time on intellectual property and ripping people off. Fun times. Yes!

YO MY WALL IS UP!! Come to the fucking mason building and SEE!!!! I’m very happy with this shit. I know you’re not supposed to like your own shit, but I am taking an exception this time, and liking it. Yeah!

Also I have a new article up on SpeakUp and Writing Design Criticism. Do tell me what you think if you have some time to waste. Because I love you, and your opinion is paramount. Indeeeeed yes!

Anyway that’s it for now. I will be unbroke in about two hours so talk to you after I buy some food and eat it. Until then.

-fish

Hi. Still trying to unfuck my brain. Doing some work, at my dad’s house on Cape Cod. There was a totally awesome wifi signal for the first two days, but they must have smelled my thirst for internet from afar, cuz it got completely turned off right when my gmail inbox filled up for the first time, which screwed up my fone. This whole sequence of events was actually kind of awesome, cuz it made me throw myself in the ocean, which was cold enough to make me feel as though I was being burned alive.

Can’t deal with people, just yet… at least not in large numbers. One on one, one on two, okay sure fine. More than that and I start to act wack, a mode in which I would prefer not to operate. I do love you, though, I should add. I love you more than ever before. I just can’t think straight, is what it is. Yes.

But it’s nice to work, again. My dad’s house is not at all equipped for graphics design, so it has been a total MacGuyver adventure. I have done the following things in order to get shit done:

• disassembled three floor lamps and cobbled the components together for a photo shoot that thankfully did not burn the place down
• ripped up a rag and used it to tie off garbage bags which were wrapped around ungrounded extension cords and dragged through puddles
• drove across most of cape cod to go to a fucking mall, to get yet another USB cable, cuz I forgot mine
• smashed an epson magenta ink cartridge with a hammer, to get pictures of splatters
• concocted just the right mix of ketchup and balsamic vinegar to spill down a sheet of paper, in leu of ink
• chopped several ballpoint pens in half with a cleaver, before I figured out the ketchup/vinegar trick
• chopped up a forsythia (see above) but did not kill it

…. I can rightly claim to have done other nutso shit, but that’s the top of the design-related list. Now I’m going to try to write some shit. Writing is what I thought would be the easiest to kickstart, but — suprise, suprise — it’s the hardest. So. In leu of anything decent, here’s most of an email I sent to David Reinfurt, in which I explain what the deal is wi the the whole cavalcade of ripoffs. Mr. Reinfurt is teaching a studio I’m in this semester, and he is awesome. Yes.

We haven’t talked in a month or so (egads!) but so let me fill you in on what my intentions are in this project. It’s a large project, parts of which fulfill the requirements for some of my other classes. What I have been doing is producing a series of posters wherein I rip someone off. The attached zipfile contains several examples; they range from established designers, to more obscure practitioners, to well-known artists who work with type. The idea is simple: I choose a piece of work by one of these people and replicate it as faithfully as possible from scratch. That is to say, I don’t just open up their JPGs and fuck with them. But I substitute the text “I AM TOTALLY RIPPING YOU OFF” for their words. You’ll note that in some cases I have added ancillary text, when either the nature of the off-ripping or the target of the ripoff demands it.

This is an object lesson in intellectual property and the rather contentious and ill-resolved idea that one can “own” an idea. This has been a hot-button issue in software (e.g. open-source, DRM, proprietary interoperation protocols, etc) as well as elsewhere in all fields related to cultural production… if you have not already read the attached essay by Jonathan Lethem, it’s a good read on the topic (amusingly, I would have simply linked that article on harpers’ website, but they made the whole thing “available to subscribers only”, sort of proving my point, in a way).

The manner it relates to our class is in what I am doing with this stuff. In the “art world”, recent innovations have forced the uptake of intellectual property pragma that relates to some of the nonsense with software. It is one thing to make a masterwork painting that is a completely unique physical object; it is quite another to make a digital piece of “art”, using the same production tools as designers, film-makers, et al, and then artificially limit the works’ distribution by only producing a limited number of, say, DVDs, or digital prints.

Works like these rely on constructs like “certificates of authenticity”, which are analagous to software license certificates and the like. In theory, you can make infinite copies of the data that comprises the Ubuntu open-source operating system, or of Microsoft Windows, or of Matthew Barney’s “Cremaster Cycle”. Duplicating the latter two, however, is illegal, even though both of these things have been produced with the same sort of toolchains that enable distribution of an unlimited scope (they’re both bits and bytes, at the end of the day, after all). Intrestingly, “certificates of authenticity” serve as a currency of sorts… an apt comparison as art collection is often compared to a futures market.

It is a touchier subject with artists and designers. In the attached article by Simon Doonan, he humorously details a situation that arose where the artist Jack Pierson claimed eminent domain, as it were, over Doonan’s aesthetic. Pierson tried to suggest that he had some sort of exclusive right to use found junk signage in his artwork. This argument implies that Pierson’s identity as an artist was solely based on style and technique.

My response to this mess is to rip a wide range of people off, and tell them about it. My poster series thus far includes Karel Martens, Jenny Holzer, Laura Dapito, Wim Crouwel, Ed Ruschia, John Baldessari, Experimental Jet Set, and Erika Nishizato, among others. I have already been given clearance to hang these posters in the Mason lobby, and they’ll be up there for 2 weeks starting around the first. Here is the current plan for the wall:

http://objectsinspaceandtime.com/~/fish/_for_david/_masonwall_mockup03.pdf

The distribution aspect of the project is such: I will also mail a copy of each of these posters to the person who has been ripped off. Enclosed will be in intellectual property receipt, and a complaint form, replete with an obnoxiously impersonal cover letter. I designed the receipts to mimic the simple laser-print transaction receipts from the local 7-11 (see the attachment ipreceipts.pdf for some examples) and I have printed them out at the right size, taking care to rip the bottom edge of the page so they appear as authentic as possible. (to that end, I have a friend in digital media who has several actual receipt printers that I can get access to, so that’ll appear as real as possible).

How people react, both to the posters as displayed in an “art gallery” style context and to having their own work egregiously aped, will draw forth my currency design. I see the project as a dipstick, with which I might assess peoples’ prevailing sentiments on intellectual property issues in design. I have already sent out a few posters, and I will do another round.

But so. As I mentioned, I am in a rather poor mental state, these days. (it took me about four days to write this). I think I need to be away from class for a little while. I am planning to go down to my dad’s house on cape cod for a few days. I’ll bring my laptop and work there, but I need peace and solitude. If I stay here I fear I won’t be able to get out of bed, most days.

What I would like to do is to finish this project up, and work with you individually to design my currency. I really don’t want to ask for this this kind of “special treatment”, quite frankly. Most everyone has offered me an opinion on what I should do, and they all range from “jump back into your work!” to “take all the time that you need!”… personally, I hate to claim any sort of extenuating circumstances for myself. I want to ultimately be treated like anyone else. But I must take exception in this case. I am fine one minute, and a mess the next.

Please let me know if this is agreeable, or what I might clarify. I hope you’re well. Thanks for reading.

Figure 1: Phillipe Apeloig.

So yeah, I am totally ripping you off. Really, when you look at my design work since day 1, it’s what I’ve been doing all along; I’m just being as brutally honest as possible about it, for this project. Yeah. If you want me to totally rip you off, or if you have suggestions on who I should totally rip off, do let me know. I find the most satisfying things to totally rip off are things that are already, in some fashion, total ripoffs themselves… like when early tDR starts to creep into Wim Crouwel’s territory, or Bruce Mau shamelessly aping Quentin Fiore; that sort of shit.

Figure 2: Karel Martens.

Naturally I already tried to do Paula Scher’s swatch posters, but I can’t cram the phrase “I am totally ripping you off” into them, typographically. This is fine with me because the Public Theater stuff is so much more fun to emulate. But yeah, using that same phrase (more or less) on all the posters is part of the game; my friend Christian pointed out that this made it into a sort of All Your Base type of thing, which I agree with. I am all about such image-macro meme stuff these days, anyway (see last image here) so that’s just dandy.

Figure 3: Stefan Sagmeister.

Blech. Yeah. Also I was rereading the first half of Design Writing Reseach and it occurred to me that so so so much of the last, oh, maybe 80 years of critical theory is essentially a bunch of fumbling around in the dark towards an understanding of neuroscience. Like, instead of going right to the source and preparing histologically stained cross-sectioned rat brain samples, and all that, people have been content to sit around in corduroys and talk about indexical signs and that sort of shit. Like, you get the feeling that eventually, theorists just might stumble through all the issues and arrive at something relatively demystified, that acknowledges the whole perception-is-cognition thing without quasi-religious rhetoric getting in the way, et cetera. Wouldn’t that be interesting, if that happened? I think that’d be fucking interesting.

Like, there was this one time I was talking to a professor from MCM at a bar, and he was going on about some logical paradox he had claimed to glean from Derrida, or somesuch, and I mentioned something about V1/V2 and how you can’t look at any one part of the brain as the “soul” or “seat of consciousness”, which really I thought was pretty basic, and he was all like, “oh yeah, neuroscience”, and looked at me like I’d taken his toys away, and the conversation was pretty much dead in the water at that point. I dunno. Funny, yes? Maybe. Another angle on the pseudoscience conundrum; maybe the opposite angle, even.

Anyway. That’s all I got for now, I have to go totally rip more people off now, so I will talk to you later. Yes. Salud.

-fish

Whooooo. Yeah so I just put up my review of the Cooper-Hewitt’s National Design Triennial up on Writing Design Criticism. I’m of the opinion, as are others, that the Triennial was rather wack. I mean, did anyone like it? All my designer friends have had rather unkind words for it thus far. Maybe those of you who are not all-encompassing design nerds? Do let me know, because I am curious.

I wanted to get into all sorts of other shit in the article, like about how it’s kind of odd that COMA did the book and the identity for the show AND were featured in it. That’s odd, amirite?? I mean, COMA is fantastic, really… they came up here for a visiting designers’ workshop last spring, and they were the guest critics for the thesis reviews, and they’re excellent critics and designers and all that, BUT… WTF?? I would like to know WTF. And also the heavily preemptively defensive tone the curators seem to be taking is also quite something. HRMMMM, INDEEEED!!

But I do recall hearing some guy on the radio, circa the year 2000, defending the Millenium Dome. This dome was the temporary home for a monstrous, all-singing, all-dancing show about humans and how generally awesome they are and will be in the future, which ran through the year 2000. People generally hated it, even when on drugs, and it’s pretty much been written off as a failure since. But so the guy on the radio was talking about how gigantic expos such as that are typically received poorly in their time, but remembered fondly, and that such would be the case with the dome.

After reading that Guardian precis, I dunno about the dome, but the radio guy’s thesis sounds rather believable… it’s easy to be like, “last triennial was SOO much better.” I myself can’t weigh in on that, as it’s the first I’ve been to, but hey yeah. Do let me know what you think, indeed.

But so yeah. Trying to finish all open writing projects, now. Got a few more. Some are typical grad-school pre-thesis nonsense, some are for my own shits and giggles, and some are bits I hope to actually get into print sometime in the possible future. That, I think, would be very nice. Even Jacek, from 2+3D, was like “yeah, it’d probably benefit your career to have something published in English,” and I agree with that… to which I would add “… and also in actual print and not on some sort of blog.” Indeed.

I do love me some blog, though, although I still find “blog” to be one of the most repulsive neologisms ever crafted. I’ve been writing blather on the web for about 10 years now, and the practice has thoroughly fucked up my editing techniques. In the case of that Triennial article, for example, I wrote the first draft in Word. I cleaned up my grammar and whatnot, and then moved it into InDesign, where I simultaneously typeset the article, wrote the footnotes, placed images, and re-edited the fucking text. After that, I went through the whole thing again in Movable Type. It is the act of publishing the stuff online, though, that lets me see the real gaping horrid errors. I’ll fix like one error, rebuild the whole page, and then look at it anew, and with each pass I’ll find all the stuff that eluded me when editing in any other program. I think the scrutiny comes from when I originally had an “online journal”, which I updated in Emacs over dialup; in such an environment, retyping and reediting is a royal fucking problem.

Not that my shit don’t stank, or nothin’. I am sure the piece is far from perfect. But hey.

Another thing I should mention is that I have been nerding out so thoroughly these days, to the point where my social life is basically done. It’s quite sad. Now that there’s more light in the day, though, I’ve had it with such nonsense. So you (yes YOU) should call me up and buy me drinks. I promise you all types of entertaining conversation and observations, really. In fact, there’s a party here at Mason (yes, the studio, but it’s the best I can do right now) this friday after Open Studios. You come by there, that’d be an excellent start. Yes. Word. Allrite. Talksoon.

Yeah!

-fish

What follows is a rather annoying essay I had to write for grad seminar, in which I “reflected” on a presentation I gave on my influences vis-a-vis my work. Please excuse the rampant pretense. Yes.

There are a great many things in this world that pique my interest. Of those that fall under the general aegis of my practice and work, I’d say it’s pretty easy to draw a line down the middle of them. On one side, there are the things that I love because something about them speaks directly to my persona.

Figure 1. Yayoi Kusama: Infinity Mirror Room, synchronized light bulbs and mirrors, 1965.

Yayoi Kusama’s monumental works, through which she sought (nay, seeks; she’s still a practicing artist) to defray the constant crackle of her neurological problems, inform my process in a way that naturally goes beyond mere formalism. Her work offers a viewport into the war she fights with her own errant brain on a daily basis. As such, it serves as an example of how such a force can be channeled, rather than pacified or otherwise “cured”, into art. I see things like that and I think, aha yes, I could do that.

Figure 2. James Turrell, Live Oak Friends Meeting House, light installation, 2000.

James Turrell, on the other hand, produces work that is austere in presentation, punctilious in process, and clear in intent. My hands aren’t steady enough to make the things he makes, and my mind lacks the zennish clarity one needs to conceive of these things in the first place. I’m attracted to the work, because it offers something I need. Turrell himself, however, is not someone I particularly identify with: we have little in common in most aspects. I’m sure that if we were stuck next to one another on a plane and forced to converse for a time, we’d wind up pissy and uncommunicative long before landing. (Not that that would ever happen; he’s most likely flying first class these days, whereas I’m stuck in coach.)

Figure 3. Karel Maartens, Counterprint, experimental monoprint, 2004.

Unsurprisingly, those few characters who straddle that line are among the most compelling: Karel Maartens, for example, is a supreme master of printing processes and data visualization. However, he does not allow these highly technical and systematized facets of process to rule his work; he still finds value in irregular metal junk, as the monoprints in his “counterprint” monograph wonderfully illustrate. His work multiplexes the calclulated and calming qualities I find attractive with the ragged human aspects I can identify with.

Figure 4. Maya Lin, Topologies, variable installation, 1997.

Ditto Maya Lin: In her Topologies show, she had meticulously and mathematically CNC-routed slabs of wood happily intermixed with prints she made by inking fragments of glass. The stochastic and the inductive were both bent into form by her vision.

Thi