Open, construct, pour, and celebrate with this ingeniously designed shot glass birthday card from 55his.
We’ve all been there. You walk through the doors of any hospital to visit a patient, and once in the sterile hospital room, your anxiety level raises. This is not just at the prospect of your dear friend or loved one lying there, but also at the fact the next few minutes or even hours and days both you and the patient are subject to this bland momentary existence lacking in form and function. Want to stay a while? You have no choice but to contort yourself on the one and only seemingly prison-issued chair in the room.
What you are about to see should be mandatory in all hospitals. Quality of recovery would show an amazing increase if family and friends could comfortably stay as long as they wish and lend support to the patient just by being there. Not all of us can afford a private wing you know.
Wieland Healthcare has produced this piece of convertible furniture, Sleep Too, that is a virtual family room concept. Check it out…
Time-lapse video shows how Vincent van Gogh’s Starry Night is made from just over 7,000 dominoes.
Flippy Cat recreated Vincent van Gogh’s “Starry Night” from just over 7,000 dominos. The second attempt took about 11 hours total to build.
Believe it or not, the first attempt failed, when a screw was dropped from the camera rig onto it. As a result, the swirling clouds were improved in the second attempt.
We recently had the amazing opportunity of perusing a found New York Times newspaper dating back to January 1, 1946. Nothing titilates us more than having the honor of a sneak peek to what was happening in the new year sixty-six years ago: Times Square saw the noisiest ringing in of the New Year since 1941, Winston Churchill was honored with the British Order of Merit, and the 100th Mayor of New York City, William O’Dwyer, was sworn in at a brief midnight ceremony, to name a few.
Most telling of the times are the advertisements from which we can glean what was in style, how much things cost, and what was no longer in ration (following the war). Take a leap back in time and check out these advertisments in the January 1, 1946 New York Times newspaper.
The power of simple shapes is emphasized in this animated font call Sputnik, designed and animated by Zach Christy.
Last week we brought you Part One of The Man Who Was Really a Camera: America’s Great Walker Evans, an in-depth look into one of the great American photographers. Here is Part Two:
by Lorette C. Luzajic
Walker’s many associates described him as charming and charismatic; he was also a lite version of a dandy, an American rendition, if you will, with astute observatory witticisms and a penchant for style. Even as he saw great beauty in the “vernacular,” (a favourite word) and ordinary, Walker was “an aesthete from the crown of his carefully barbered hair to the cap toes of his Peal benchmade shoes” (Daniel Mark Epstein, New Criterion, March 1, 2000.) Everyone knew that Walker was adventurous enough to embark on all kinds of trips, to wade into neighbourhoods that spanned the full spectrum of humanity, and to enjoy his fair share of parties and reveling.
General Store interior – Alabama USA
Yet somehow, it seems as if Walker was not a full participant in life. His circles of creative writers and artists threw themselves passionately into their world. Decadent and superficial though Walker may have judged them, there was an emotional engagement, a hunger to participate in the full spectrum of life’s rich pageant. Epstein noted that Walker exhorted students to complete work with intelligence, with faith, with cultivation. “Passion he does not mention,” Epstein says, “because it cannot be acquired or reliably controlled.”
The Man Who Was Really a Camera: America’s Great Walker Evans (Part One)
by Lorette C. Luzajic
“I stare and stare at people, shamelessly,” the great American photographer Walker Evans confessed in his book, Many Are Called.
Walker Evans (1937)
It wasn’t just people that he scrutinized. He saw everything, where others saw nothing. Teaching students photography at Yale, he would ask his students what they could see. If they said nothing, or said there was nothing there with which to make a photograph, he would tell them to look more closely. “Oh, yes, you can. Try to find a way.”
“Walker made you feel like you were going through life blind,” said Lady Caroline Blackwood of the photographer. “His brilliant eye would notice the tiniest detail.”
Blackwood is quoted in Belinda Rathbone’s Walker Evans: a Biography, and this eloquent compliment speaks volumes. Blackwood was not exactly a shy, inexperienced wallflower who went through life with her eyes half shut. She was a muse to Freud’s artist grandchild and to booze-soaked poet Robert Lowell; she was heiress to the Guinness estate, and fittingly, a lush herself; and she was a writer whose graphic depictions of sadistic pedophilia would make Nabokov blush. Blackwood was not blind- she had seen a thing or two.
Walker Evans created many thousands of images, but he is best known for his work with the Farm Security Administration. The FSA’s goal was “rural rehabilitation,” with hopes of combating Depression-era poverty among American farmers. The socialist effort was a mixed bag of temporary Band-Aid-ism and abject failure, but the project had an unexpected benefit- it became one of the most thorough historical documentation legacies of all time.