Discipline, quality vs. quantity, and the power of “intellectual elegance” – remembering the great Massimo Vignelli, who died on Monday.
“The life of a designer is a life of fight. Fight against the ugliness. Just like a doctor fights against disease. For us, the visual disease is what we have around, and what we try to do is cure it somehow with design.”
“Take it all back. Life is boring, except for flowers, sunshine, your perfect legs. A glass of cold water when you are really thirsty. The way bodies fit together. Fresh and young and sweet. Coffee in the morning. These are just moments. I struggle with the in-betweens. I just want to never stop loving like there is nothing else to do, because what else is there to do?”
To give you pause: If we treated physical illness like we do mental illness. Complement with a fascinating read on mood science and the evolutionary origins of depression and artist Bobby Baker’s courageous visual diary of mental illness.
Truth.
unculturedmag:
Deus Ex Machina Launches Pop-Up Shop at Freemans… typophile
My heart just skipped a beat. Or two. More like five.
Stellar by Hasselblad
Tinky Winky lived here. I would not lie to you.
—Dorn
Window shopping, NYC
—Dorn
“Looking is benign. Seeing has teeth and comes with consequences. You see it, you own it. Sometimes it owns you.”
Jane Dorn (photographer)
http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2014/04/03/jane-dorn-photography/
(via ruthosman)
Seth Godin wrote a children’s book for grownups about vulnerability and creative courage, illustrated by Hugh MacLeod, and it’s absolutely wonderful.
“I swear to every heaven ever imagined,
if I hear one more dead-eyed hipster
tell me that art is dead, I will personally summon Shakespeare
from the grave so he can tell them every reason
why he wishes he were born in a time where
he could have a damn Gmail account.
The day after I taught my mother
how to send pictures over Iphone she texted
me a blurry image of our cocker spaniel ten times in a row.
Don’t you dare try to tell me that that is not beautiful.
But whatever, go ahead and choose to stay in
your backwards-hoping-all-inclusive club
while the rest of us fall in love over Skype.
Send angry letters to state representatives,
as we record the years first sunrise so
we can remember what beginning feels like when
we are inches away from the trigger.
Lock yourself away in your Antoinette castle
while eat cake and tweet to the whole universe that we did.
Hashtag you’re a pretentious ass hole.
Van Gogh would have taken 20 selflies a day.
Sylvia Plath would have texted her lovers
nothing but heart eyed emojis when she ran out of words.
Andy Warhol would have had the worlds weirdest Vine account,
and we all would have checked it every morning while we
Snap Chat our coffee orders to the people
we wish were pressed against our lips instead of lattes.
This life is spilling over with 85 year olds
rewatching JFK’s assassination and
7 year olds teaching themselves guitar over Youtube videos.
Never again do I have to be afraid of forgetting
what my fathers voice sounds like.
No longer must we sneak into our families phonebook
to look up an eating disorder hotline for our best friend.
No more must I wonder what people in Australia sound like
or how grasshoppers procreate.
I will gleefully continue to take pictures of tulips
in public parks on my cellphone
and you will continue to scoff and that is okay.
But I hope, I pray, that one day you will realize how blessed
you are to be alive in a moment where you can google search
how to say I love you in 164 different languages.”
b.e.fitzgerald (Art is a Facebook status about your winter break.)
This.
(via byrdiegrey)
OH.
Fast. Windows down.