i remember not too long ago, a friend in MTV’s design department sent me a classified internal document detailing the company’s demographic research in youth markets. seems it’s not so classified any more.
me too. wanna keep from becoming one? here’s how. to quote a friend, “go forth and be turgid, young man.”
voici les garcons. (via corky.)
heavy on the melodrama, but a well-done article about gay kids building relationships online (ny times, requires a free subscription). this was enormously helpful in building about face youth theatre.
even though i do a lot of work for fetish designers, rubber fetishism always escaped me. but house of harlot totally clinches the deal by adding a much-needed degree of artfulness and a sly wink. now where did i leave that baby powder..?
insomnia strikes again. been up and down four times since 11:30PM. read me a bedtime story..?
i usually stay away from designers’ sites (“hello, pot? this is kettle calling…”): they’re conceptually void, rely on easily-replicated surface technique to define themselves, and are fucking pretentious all ‘round. then there’s hellcouncil, which is simply fucking pretentious: massive doses of suburban teen angst bullshit heaped over too much television and not enough vegetables makes for a disturbing vision of the future of youth marketing. heavy on the designers republic devices, but smartly used and with an evil, angry bent.
settle new art director (a friend from forever ago)
complete employee review forms (“you’re fired”)
prepare for new business meeting
finish identity redesign for diamond broker
try not to think about my upcoming trip to visit friends/celebrate their anniversary/celebrate my birthday (seven motherfucking weeks away)
ignore my insomnia over the past two days
…and be happy that a new addition to my collection is on its way. makes the rest of the day worth it.
…as usual, we are under a very tight deadline but i’m told that you get that about us. Give us a call as soon as you have a chance to go over the brief.
two guesses as to what i’m doing tomorrow morning.
i’ve been thinking about josh mintz frequently over the past few days, wondering if he still has anything to do with his past.
visit his classic greetings from the card factory or even tangled web…two pieces directly responsible for a lot of my own work.
a few years ago, he showed me a beautiful piece in progress called “peppermintz.” a love letter to his daughter. one of the saddest things i’d ever seen. it’s not there any more. in fact, it’s nowhere to be found at all.
i wonder if he ever found her.
on jadedness and irony:
it’s tired. too easy to understand, too easy to respond to. stop feigning boredom when it’s perfectly clear you really would much rather jump on and enthusiastically lick me from throat to ear. golden retrievers do it (note high degree of social approval), why shouldn’t you? god, at least just smile at me. either extreme: i’d love it.
and while i’m giving you action items, could you please stop analyzing everything within your range of vision for like five goddamned minutes and enjoy your life? but most of all…just do something. anything. you’re a brilliant glowing brushfire, and you fucking well know it. stop denying the inevitable. just do it with some degree of smarts, okay? it’s not that hard.
god. some people just piss me off sometimes.
the recipient of the previous speech saw things my way. and then he licked me from armpit to throat. while still in the restaurant.
i win.
something i think i’ve not spoken about here is the tattoos across the knuckles of my right hand. it’s a japanese inscription, designed as a gift for my 27th birthday by john maeda, which reads “accept the opportunity you are offered.” the positioning, on the first knuckle, is that of a classic prison tattoo. the message is a reminder to never second guess my artistic concerns. the positioning is indicative of the accusation of potential failure that carries, and the hand is the one i create art with. i enjoy dichotomies.
i hate blogging bloggers, but there’s an issue being discussed which i find important.
this and this are related to this, which i wrote some time ago.
included are some uselful resources on dealing with your own body perception, particularly if you’re a gay man (and really: who’s not?)
bait and switch: it’s not a sedaris link. (you funny lady!) it’s actually an attempt to call attention to lines and splines, a blog focusing on some of the finest typography in the world - including historical notes, biographies, and breaking news. so go, learn, and STOP SETTING UGLY TYPE (but i’m not bitter).
and did you even know there’s a type-creation industry? there is, albeit a small one: there are only a few thousand professional typographers working today. including me.
“at no charge, virtuaguy can be on your desktop in less than 4 minutes (with a 56 k modem) and, as he never expires, he’ll be your puppet as long as you enjoy!”
i’m gonna get my ass kicked so bad…
nobody believes in online experience of cinematic scale anymore, and i’m not talking about crappy movie promo sites. rather, i mean something which utterly transports you into another world. so you can understand why i was beside myself with joy once i found conclave obscurum.
i had a conversation earlier this week that irritated me: a new friend automatically assumed (out of naiveté) that since i define myself socially as club trash, then i automatically fall into a category poulated by drug addled oversexed emotional car crashes, and that i am more than likely that sort of person.
untrue: i don’t drink much, i can’t remember the last time i was on anything in a club, and i don’t go to pick up guys. it’s totally counterproductive to any sort of emotional health, especially when you go out as much as i do.
i love music, i love my body and i love the way it moves. everything else - drugs, sex, booze - is a cheap way towards what i’m looking for. as well, i love the culture’s jazz-like ability to riff aspects of dissonant cultures off each other and synthesize new ideas towards living. it’s a constant fuel for my artmaking process.
i understand that club culture is intimately tied to an unhealthy state of existence - and that is natural to a culture inhabited by artists, all of whom consistently look for new modes of perception. but that doesn’t mean i can’t tweak my own culture into something that’s perfect for me: a blend of motion, imaginitive self-expression, and joyful expression of my sensuality.
what a beautiful voice that boy has. it’d be even more so if he’d let some of the georgia honey drip into it. ain’t nothin’ wrong with a southern accent. jim goad explores some interesting concepts regarding discrimination against southerners and the stereotypes we labor under in his book the redneck manifesto, the accent being just the tip of the iceberg.
addendum: the plural of “y’all” can either be “all y’all” or “you’uns.”
how do i know? i’m a southerner. i’ve been away from the south for seven years now. but i still use “y’all” in everyday conversation, sometimes i have a twang, and i love it. it reminds me of home.
(someone actually tried to use that line AS A PICK UP two weeks ago; note that he was bathed in a horrific cologne. needless to say, i directed his attention elsewhere)
unfortunately, if he’d done his research beforehand, he might have had me.
it occurred to me: my thirty-first birthday rapidly approaches (april 25th, same as bjorn ulvaeus). and how kind of me to alert you in time to do some shopping, oui?
woohoo! just found out that we won best of show in art and culture at sxsw.
credit where credit’s due:
concept: scott kinsey. identity creative direction: tim hogan, me. site creative direction: me. design: sarah kretchmer, bj moore, jenny lobue. sound design and remix: jef lear, derek fansler. flash and shockwave programming: chris falvey, mike armstrong, sarah kretchmer, derek fansler, me. video creative direction: mike diedrich. video mix and production: mike javor, marc schwartzberg, jules jentzen. artist interviews: lauren shawe, scott kinsey.
rock on, y’all!
another urban monogamy unit is no more. (i should probably stock up on the whiskey to better perform my duties as a friend.) big hugs.
you’d think of all the companies in the world, WIRED magazine would have an operational mail server. jesus fucking christ.
somehow, i never knew that WANT (which i wrote and helped conceive) was in typography 19. interestingly, in the customer reviews, everyone says they’re sick to death of vague, masturbatory carson-styled design. i agree.
unsettling: a big nude-ish portrait of me (still platinum blonde, before i discovered any sort of exercise) covered in gold glitter, the words XXXPLOIT ME superimposed on my chest chosen as the representational spread in the book. not sure what i think of that.
“When Lily Rothman finishes watching “Buffy,” she immediately gets on the phone or the Internet to analyze the episode with other fans.”
thank god. i thought i was the only one.
some wildly fucked up predictions of how market fragmentation will foster unhealthy cultural fragmentation. how many times do i have to say that our culture goes beyond what we consume as market particpants? hello.
NYT link via the monstress.
in the meantime, buffy’s a rerun tonight and i’m pissed. i don’t care if it is the one where Yummy Spike reveals how he’s killed slayers while remaining so scrumptious and platinum blonde, i want the next new episode NOW. i mean, shit: Joyce dies, Willow and Tara finally get kissy on camera, Anja shows her demon heritage by totally not getting the death thing, Xander broods relentlessly and foxily, Dawn, the littlest Summers woman (and, like, so much higher on the badass scale than the Buffster could ever reach) has foreshadowing to her possible skills as The Key yet still skillfully masks the fact that she’s not human at all, Glory the Peroxide Tragedy Who’s Apparently Some Sort of God and Ben the Intern With Foxy Abs and Big Hair are the same person, and OHMIGOD La Buff asked Ben out on a date for coffees and kisses. yowza! gimme the next episode!
(oops. sorry. i geeked.)
another war on club culture. fabulous.
yet again, local policymakers illustrate they have no idea what it takes to stop drug trafficking in nighttime culture. note ever-amusing use of the “whack-a-mole” tactic: smash it when you see it. that’ll work.
why is it this whole “ecstasy is destrying the minds of our children” meme pops up every five years? better question: since it pops up every five years or so, why do reporters still confuse the effects of ecstasy with the effects of dancing all night?
(been looking for this forever.) a comprehensive downloadable listing (3108!) of every logo you could ever want in handy-dandy editable postscript format. en español. slow-ish server.
…in which we make the “sagging economy” a scapegoat for a round of firings we’re doing today (3 offices closed nationwide, 15 internal fires). i would call them layoffs, but the internal losses are clearly politically motivated. two words: contingency plan. i got mine. i’m getting so tired of seeing talented people fall by the wayside to companies who wouldn’t know a strategy if it fucked them over a mailbox.
anthony goicolea’s self-portraiture as childhood myth disturbed me when i first saw it…but upon second inspection, i found it boring, obvious and conceptually shallow (kind of like david lachappelle). but don’t take my word for it: judge for yourself. (link via the limey. thanks, hon!)
sweet paul is featured in a new book on male erotic photography. paul’s work is, in my opinion, some of the best in the field: he regards his subjects with wistful poetry combined with unabashed lust…jarring to the emotions, beautiful to see.
the irony of this is that paul is destitute and verging on homelessness. go buy the book. support art in a very real way.
if you are, like myself, a certifiable Big Icky Faggot, you desperately need rhinestones in your life. lots.
buy your own Bedazzler at Ginger’s Gifts (next day shipping available!). then shine shine shine like the top of the chrysler building.
(note that a midriff-and-flash-allowance memo reading “please restrict yourselves to non-reflective, non-illuminated, hypoallergenic clothing - THIS MEANS YOU, PATRIC” landed in my inbox at work the other day. the HR chick is a primo beeyotch, but it’s okay: i make twice her pathetic salary and since i’m the only creative director they wouldn’t DARE fire me whereas she is merely a corporate cog with a bad jennifer-aniston-circa-1994 haircut. innately replaceable. i win.)
in researching material for this potential new client, i happened upon an organization of companies concerned with the sustainability of local and global biomes…get this…above and beyond what governments prescribe. considering our own fabulously incompetent president has decided to lift environmental restructuring policies, it’s a ray of hope that some companies realize their responsibility.
remember ebn ozn? no? i do. aeiou and sometimes y was the thing that shoved me into the embryonic stage of Me. it forced me into my first proclamation of self (at 14) : i gave myself Big Hair. a majestic new wave mullet: shaved to 1/4 on the sides, chestnut brown to the top of my spine, rooster red blow-dried-upside-down-with-aqua-net-at-the-roots on top and platinum bangs brushing the tip of my nose framing silver eyeliner and a stripe of black eyeshadow. fantastico.
the next change i made was under a year later (10/22/85): i snuck out of the house at 1AM and hitched a ride to a nightclub. and i gave my first nervous-but-loving-being-so-bad blowjob in the back room.
these days, the look is truthful but still Walking Theatre. i’m not hiding behind a costume any more. somewhere along the line i decided to be my costume.
make believe every day, baby. make yourself into the thing you desire most. nobody else will do that for you.
(this one’s for you, big sister. you know who you are.)
okay big guy. i’ll bite. here’s a list of songs that make me go. chronological, even. i reserve the right to genre-hop.
1984: ebn ozn, “aeiou sometimes y”
1985: arcadia, “election day.”
1986: pet shop boys, “tonight is forever.”
1987: siouxsie and the banshees, “this wheel’s on fire.”
1988: front 242, “headhunter.”
1989: new order, “fine thing.”
1990: meat beat manifesto, “helter skelter.”
1991: the normal, “warm leatherette.”
1992: lords of acid, “i sit on acid.”
1993: jaydee, “plastic dreams.”
1994: the prodigy, “no good.”
1995: everything but the girl, “single.”
1996: blind mr. jones, “dolores.”
1997: meat beat manifesto, “mad bomber/the woods.”
1998: dubstar, “i will be your girlfriend.”
1999: dubtribe, “el regalo de amor.”
2000: resistance d, “feel high.”
2001: leee john, “mighty power of love.”
sent by a beautiful man (and that’s not just a physical description):
urgent deadline: médecins sans frontiéres (msf) asks you to support south africa’s efforts to make essential medicines more accessible to its people by signing the global “drop the case” petition at their website by april 15.
the petition calls on 39 pharmaceutical companies to drop their lawsuit against the south african government. the lawsuit is blocking the implementation of legislation that aims to improve access to essential medicines by making drugs more affordable.
if you have a moment, you might think good thoughts towards andy.
in case you wonder why i give a fuck, andy and i have been friends for about 15 years now. history matters.
seems the bayne family is looking rosier these days. jordan bayne, who’s older sister to cody (one of my most trusted friends, and pictured here) has just launched her own site. hubba hubba.
backstory: when we were in knoxville together, cody owned a nightclub for which i created a logo=, which led to a typeface= which moved me to chicago and was later used as opening credits in this movie. and oh yeah, on the website for this one, too.
the whiteney is launching a major new exposition of digital art. haven’t had a moment to check, but it seems like the usual digital art deal: too much in love with the medium to pay attention to the message. comments from anyone with more time to look?
for those of you who’ve asked: the shirt i’m sporting in this image is by custo barcelona. there’s a joyful decadence to their excess i haven’t seen in many other designers. it’s a welcome break from the minimalism of seasons past.
you can view the entire spring/summer womens’ collection here (and let it be known a lot of this stuff is unisex, and very affordable).
via voicemail: “hey, peekay, just callin’ to see if you wanna go out and have a beer and talk about this streaming networks thing. just tryin’ to be a good friend, do my job, keep on top of the relationship.”
whatthefuck IS IT with only children, anyway..?
i don’t know whatthefuck i did, but chester just kamikaze shopped for me: amazon sent me this, this, this, and this (which is quite possibly my favorite movie this side of breakfast at tiffany’s).
sounds like someone wants to get his ass taken out to dinner.
thanks, baby. you’re a doll.
i’d like to point out that every designer does wedding invites…not just those designers of the kinko’s variety. that’s what i’m doing tonight.
here’s the front and inside of one i did for jen and shaun last year. apologies to lines and splines, whom i know hates martin majoor’s scala…but its coldness is the perfect contrast to andresen’s notcaslon. it’s the typographic equivalent of locking joan rivers in a glass room with joan collins and waiting to see who throws the first fistful of shit.
world’s fastest wedding invite: voiçi. now where was i? oh yeah…yesterday was supposed to be upperbodyday. oh well.
principal typography is avalon, a neugebauer hand-drawn pen script digitally recut by richard lipton, whose body of work for font bureau is a beautiful thing…usually too quirky for my tastes. perfect here. and scala has turned into my own personal helvetica.
“of all the points of contention that have dogged art during the past thirty years, noe has polarized debate as effectively as the morass of disputes aurrounding popular, or mass, culture. while some accuse mass culture of sheer banality and rail vainly against its omnipresence, others hail it as a validation of counterculture ideology that dismantles the elitist heirarchy of the past in favor of a new cultural democracy. somewhere in between these two lines of thought lies a third line of thought, which suggests that all artistic expression is intrinsically poular, in the basic sense that it is meant to appeal to someone other than the individual who created it.”
-dan cameron, senior curator, new museum of contemporary art.
let’s play follow the leader and cross-blog the shit out of each other. ‘cause that’s, like, rilly rilly interesting.
my houseguests, in from london, unveiled their work for this show. all went wonderfully, and now i’m sleepy from champagne. tomorrow’s headache will be worth it; not often one has the proud moment of seeing friends honored at a renowned museum.
the miguels, latest in a long line of superb portuguese designers just sent beautiful new work (for which i gave a copy of gia): view 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
then there’s jef who’s not only a sublimely talented musician, but possibly the most thoughtful designer i’ve worked with.
his new album’s almost ready; you might buy one of his earlier works while waiting for it. dark, moody, abstract ultrapop. guaranteed to melt in both your mouth and hand.
robot26 is your destination for the day.
a moment of oscar zen, brought to you by the good folks at spoonfed.
wondering lately, as i try to make analogy between design and other artmaking forms, if there is such a thing as “reductive” design: starting from a block of material and whittling away until the finished object reveals itself. every digital design tool we have to work with is additive in nature. is that always constructive? i think not. sometimes it seems more pertinent to let craft guide the artmaking process, as opposed to design’s usual basis in which the information guides form. i long to click and open a randomly generated tableau which i can then pull back into my own perceptions of its meaning.
form is an important part of meaning, and now that culture is built haphazardly from dissonant globally-spawned elements, it’s more crucial than ever.
so far, i’ve only been able to do this using photographic and hand-created media. my computer gets in my way. i want it to let me make a mistake.
any thoughts, all you artists, designers and dilettantes? comments welcome.
age 16 : “breaking away” chic
age 17 : come on eileen
age 18 : residual nu-ro (no idea who the girl is)
age 19 : goth (and first acid trip)
(it’s amazing the horrors one finds looking for a snapshot)
personal image selection is a scrapbook into the selector’s personality. below, the entire contents of my desktop pictures folder. some taken from some of you, some given by some of you, some created by me. interesting because none of these were collected for public viewing.
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10
11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20
1) unrecognized incoming numbers: i don’t answer. leave a voicemail. i call back if it’s important.
2) the guy who likes to continue meetings while i’m at the urinal : stop it. you’re creeping me out.
heavy metal parking lot. filmed before a judas priest concert in jersey, sometime 1986.
homina homina homina.
pizzicato five breaks up. and that’s the sound of my candypop heart snapping in two. via metafilter.
i’d like to note that, in spite of my current introspective mood, there’s time be a silly girl.
my houseguests left a pineappley pink glittery barbie fantasy ball from chupa chups on my keyboard this morning. i have, of course, been merrily giving head to it all night.
licensing agreements that make no sense are the best: testament that even the most idiotic marketing monekys will, if given time, do something brilliant regardless of intent.
when bitten into, my fantasy ball had a bitter center that i wasn’t too keen on swallowing. the subtext isn’t really that deep.
my pal dj shakey shaun has teamed up with his beautiful wife dj promqueen and dj toddy in a celebration of our chosen family. everyone come to the artful dodger wednesday nights for an event called thursday morning regrets.
there’s a revolving cast of my friends, plus colorful drunks from wicker park. old school punk, nu-ro, popcandy classics, the best wine and beer list you’ll find in chicago. i can’t guarantee i’ll be there every week (grandmama works too much), but you’ll meet someone fantastico.
philosopher/author/friend rob wittig, interviewed in the new york times on the future of online writing. also spotlighted is rob’s site, for which i created the identity and tons of imagery.
go to flaresound immediately. beautiful diverse dj mixes streaming straight to your ever lovin’ disco heart. dj dyno (link is an mp3 stream) is rocking me, amadeus: thick slabs of bass, breakbeats, gurgling in from outer space. go. now.
my typeface bad excuse (it’s free for download) is used for j-lo’s trashy new chrome logo in her “play” video. rock!
anyone got a copy as an mpg or mov file? would love to know. good material for the archives.
thanks to ches for the heads up.
10:30am - finish and launch new site
(barring interference from crappy products)
2:30pm - teach html to theatre administration
6:30pm - buy art from saic conceptual robotics division
it’s a busy day for aunt violette. ohmigod, i’m late. fuck.
how do you say goodbye to your best friend in the world? after fifteen years of being physically inseperable, the pain is horrific.
but you were generous enough to close the chapter triumphantly. i’ll miss you guys. i love you always.
