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ISSUE 003SUMMER 2014
M E S H
FEATUREDdavid bynum
finn mageestudio banana things
andrea zitteltanner bowman
allon kapeller-libermann
-
MESH is a publication that aims to critique the
three-dimensional form, who makes it, and why
they make it. We strive to erase the walls between
mediums and focus on the ideas rather than the
end object.
In issue 003, MESH explores the
rebellious side of design: found
object versus creation, re-designing
systems that shape our surroundings,
the anarchy of information displays,
and limited architecture. Any physical
design that questions the
contemporary is explored in
the following pages.
-
SUMMER 2014
Creative DirectorCassie Stepanek
WritersTaylor KigarRaine BlunkAstoria Jellett
Cover Photo // PhotographyPat Bombard
Copy EditorRaine Blunk
Layout DesignCharlotte Croy Hudson
Special thanks to:Mary Roberts
Without you we would be lost. Thanks for keeping us on track.
InformationMESH Magazine is a quarterly design publication founded in 2013 in Savannah, GA. The magazine is on the web at www.meshmagazine.co and on Facebook.
SubmissionsMESH considers submissions of unique design projects year round.
Please email us [email protected] with project details.
-
contents issue 003
005
007
013
017
an introduction fromthe director
social distortion
what do bananas,ostriches and kangarooshave in common?
creating critical objects
021andreazittel
025
029
tannerbowman
the newrule(s)
-
An INtroduction From
-
For our third issue, we wanted to touch on the misunderstood aspect of design, the anarchistic. Objects and spaces that push the boundaries of what already exists.
Initially inspired by the Japanese practice of Chindogu, this issue uses freedom to challenge the suffocating historical dominance of conservative utility. o
The archetype is dead and the world is moving in a new direction. In todays culture, change has become exponential and society must adapt to the rapid growth of products. In order to do that we need to rework the way that we think - not see, touch or feel. The layperson must accept this truth, the designer must abandon the preordained rules if we intend to reorient ourselves.
The designers in this issue have done just that.
Each of the designers featured rethinks concepts that have existed since the human race began: lonliness, time, light, sound and thought manipulation.
One designer questions the purpose of the camera and uses the existing form to distort the concept of capturing images. An artist, who was never trained in design, uses architectural space to test the human condition in regards to what is possible during times of solitude. A student in Chicago completely redefines the way in which people measure and calculate information. Every article in the following pages rebels, contravenes and honestly just raises hell.
ominance of conservative utility
006
-
design photography
article
david bynumpat bombardastoria jellett
mesh mag
-
It is the Saturday night before St. Patricks Day in Savannah, Georgia. Brick historic
buildings house charismatic bars with
doors open, bright lights and brighter
smiles, eager for the wads of green that
tourists are about to unload on their
countertops. The sky is clear black and
every street from Broughton to Bay
blocked off, pedestrians only. They take
the advantage. The mass moves like a river
through the streets, splitting into channels,
following paths and paces less by choice
and more by instinct.
They all converge in Ellis Square.
Inebriated strangers stagnate on ledges
like algae on rocks, open containers in
hand. They wear lime felt hats, plastic
beads, kitschy t-shirts, sunglasses at night.
Drunk frat boys yell gracelessly, high
heels falter on cobblestones, and the
whole thing reads as some half-baked
Dionysian farce in fifty shades of green.
Moving articulately, cutting swiftly through
the throng, is David Bynum with his
retinagraph.
Excuse me. Do you want a picture?People have to yell over the pop music,
eyes wide in the dark. The couple sitting
on the bench is skeptical, but the woman
says, Sure.You have to look in here. Its a new kind of camera.Whats it gonna do, squirt water on you or somethin?No, no, absolutely not. Its gonna give her a picture. He holds up the retinagraph, the lady puts her eyes up to the device, and
theres a bright flash.Oh, shit! she cries as it prints out a message. Bynum hands it to the man and
the couples friends gather around to look.Wheres the picture!Its in your eyes, Bynum says. Its developing right now.
He moves on, cutting through the crowd like
a shark through schools of lesser fish. He is
poised with squared shoulders and
windblown hair, scanning the crowd
through his glasses, asking politely.
Excuse me, would you like a free picture?A frat boy, clearly shitfaced, throws his fists
up. Free pictures!!A brunette girl copies him. Free pictures!This is a new kind of camera though, it takes a picture of your eyes, like a reverse
camera, Bynum explains.Is it gonna give me cancer? the guy asks.No, it wont. Wanna try it?Is it gonna suck my soul out? the brunette
cries as Frat Boy, with a glowing green
necklace, leans into the retinagraph
Bynums holding up. Frat Boy steps away, looking back and forth between the
retinagraph and his friends, as if waiting for
their go-ahead.
You just have to look into the eyepiece and smile.He does, it flashes, and he leans back, eyes
closed. Woah.
Bynums professional field was born out of the early 20th century urge to combine the
tradition of art with the novelty of mass
production. Design is, in its most basic form,
creative problem solving; industrial design
(ID) is the solution of products. The
Industrial Designers Society of America
defines the purpose of ID as to optimize the function, values, and appearance of
products and systems for the mutual benefit
of both user and manufacturer. Industrial designers synchronize function with form,
all in the hopes of making it easier for
human beings to exist in the world.
Different schools of ID range from a
complete rejection of aesthetics to
borderline sculpture. Bynum was educated
in the latter, graduating from the Savannah
College of Art and Design in early 2014. At SCAD I tried to push my skills into what
seems like a typical industrial design skill
set, he says, but I dont really fit into that. The idea that we as designers are always
trying to improve the world and make
things better.
He found his fit with Chindogu, a Japanese
concept of product design that completely
rejects consumerism. As the invented word
translates, a chindogu is a really weird tool, one that seems to solve a common, everyday problem, but would be impossible
to actually use. Either it is impractical (a
small broom affixed to the toe of a shoe so
you can sweep on-the-go) or socially
embarrassing (the all-day tissue dispenser: a
hat with a roll of toilet paper on it).
Inherent in every Chindogu is the spirit of anarchy, reads rule no. 3 on the official website. Chindogu are manmade objects that have broken free from the chains of
usefulness. They represent freedom of
thought and action: the freedom to
challenge the suffocating historical
with a destabilization of the social order.
Picture yourself in a caf, calmly clacking away at your computer with your mocha
latte frappe venti double shot whatever. If a
stranger plopped down in your lap and
started petting your hair, youd be a bit put off, wouldnt you? Bynum wants to be that stranger. But first,
he needed to learn how social
awkwardness works. Disguising his study
as a human factor survey, he built a
working prototype for a hyperphallic soap
dispenser. The user grasps the device and
social
distortion
dominance of conservative utility; the
freedom to be (almost) useless. It is ID anarchy.
Im not a political anarchist, but I think Im a social anarchist, Bynum says, manipulating the sociality of an environment. He spent the last ten weeks of college investigating the dark side of design. His purpose: to challenge unspoken codes of conduct, to disrupt the
flow of the everyday mundane essentially, to burst your personal bubble.
That is how an awkward encounter begins:
pumps the mechanism to eject foamy soap
from the top. Awkward.
Upon realizing how the soap dispenser
worked, one guy, whom Bynum describes
as a dude-bro male type, just got really weird, he got all, he got chichi, and he
wouldnt look me in the eye anymore. He receded inside of himself, and Im just sitting here. Passive regulation of an awkward encounter means simply sitting
and allowing the awkwardness to fade,
resulting in a heightened sense of time. If
Dude-Bro Male wanted to alleviate the
tension, he could have made a joke about it:
active regulation, laughter. Instead, he
steeped in social mortification.
It gave Bynum an idea. If you insert yourself into these situations and start
making these changes, you realize, Oh, wait. I have control. Part of that control is the ability to embed information specifically, visual information. Advertisers
do it constantly, and this kind of subliminal
messaging has always interested Bynum. He
wants to see if he can embed information
through product design, and in doing so,
distort the social order.
Bynums retinagraph is essentially a Polaroid camera, a thermal printer, and a
viewmaster. Inside, theres an Arduino
program and a 70 ground number of
camera flash circuitry. Think of an
afterimage -- a bright picture flashes and
when you close your eyes, you still see it
afterward. That is what the retinagraph does
to you.
I ask if I can try it. Were outside, in a caf courtyard, and the daylight is broad. It may
not work as well, since my pupils are small
and letting in little light, but Bynum says at
night it would make an imprint lasting at
least ten minutes. Well see. I put my eyes up to the viewmaster part,
looking into blank screens. Bynum presses
a button and a bright light flashes in my
eyes.
I see it. A triangle, a circle, a square, and
some lines in between.
Now if you close your eyes-Its blue -- then its purple --The retinagraph prints something out of its
Polaroid component. Not sure if it prints very well outside, Bynum mumbles. He hands me the receipt-paper printout. You
are the circle. North is the triangle. Go to the
square.
008
-
It is the Saturday night before St. Patricks Day in Savannah, Georgia. Brick historic
buildings house charismatic bars with
doors open, bright lights and brighter
smiles, eager for the wads of green that
tourists are about to unload on their
countertops. The sky is clear black and
every street from Broughton to Bay
blocked off, pedestrians only. They take
the advantage. The mass moves like a river
through the streets, splitting into channels,
following paths and paces less by choice
and more by instinct.
They all converge in Ellis Square.
Inebriated strangers stagnate on ledges
like algae on rocks, open containers in
hand. They wear lime felt hats, plastic
beads, kitschy t-shirts, sunglasses at night.
Drunk frat boys yell gracelessly, high
heels falter on cobblestones, and the
whole thing reads as some half-baked
Dionysian farce in fifty shades of green.
Moving articulately, cutting swiftly through
the throng, is David Bynum with his
retinagraph.
Excuse me. Do you want a picture?People have to yell over the pop music,
eyes wide in the dark. The couple sitting
on the bench is skeptical, but the woman
says, Sure.You have to look in here. Its a new kind of camera.Whats it gonna do, squirt water on you or somethin?No, no, absolutely not. Its gonna give her a picture. He holds up the retinagraph, the lady puts her eyes up to the device, and
theres a bright flash.Oh, shit! she cries as it prints out a message. Bynum hands it to the man and
the couples friends gather around to look.Wheres the picture!Its in your eyes, Bynum says. Its developing right now.
He moves on, cutting through the crowd like
a shark through schools of lesser fish. He is
poised with squared shoulders and
windblown hair, scanning the crowd
through his glasses, asking politely.
Excuse me, would you like a free picture?A frat boy, clearly shitfaced, throws his fists
up. Free pictures!!A brunette girl copies him. Free pictures!This is a new kind of camera though, it takes a picture of your eyes, like a reverse
camera, Bynum explains.Is it gonna give me cancer? the guy asks.No, it wont. Wanna try it?Is it gonna suck my soul out? the brunette
cries as Frat Boy, with a glowing green
necklace, leans into the retinagraph
Bynums holding up. Frat Boy steps away, looking back and forth between the
retinagraph and his friends, as if waiting for
their go-ahead.
You just have to look into the eyepiece and smile.He does, it flashes, and he leans back, eyes
closed. Woah.
Bynums professional field was born out of the early 20th century urge to combine the
tradition of art with the novelty of mass
production. Design is, in its most basic form,
creative problem solving; industrial design
(ID) is the solution of products. The
Industrial Designers Society of America
defines the purpose of ID as to optimize the function, values, and appearance of
products and systems for the mutual benefit
of both user and manufacturer. Industrial designers synchronize function with form,
all in the hopes of making it easier for
human beings to exist in the world.
Different schools of ID range from a
complete rejection of aesthetics to
borderline sculpture. Bynum was educated
in the latter, graduating from the Savannah
College of Art and Design in early 2014. At SCAD I tried to push my skills into what
seems like a typical industrial design skill
set, he says, but I dont really fit into that. The idea that we as designers are always
trying to improve the world and make
things better.
He found his fit with Chindogu, a Japanese
concept of product design that completely
rejects consumerism. As the invented word
translates, a chindogu is a really weird tool, one that seems to solve a common, everyday problem, but would be impossible
to actually use. Either it is impractical (a
small broom affixed to the toe of a shoe so
you can sweep on-the-go) or socially
embarrassing (the all-day tissue dispenser: a
hat with a roll of toilet paper on it).
Inherent in every Chindogu is the spirit of anarchy, reads rule no. 3 on the official website. Chindogu are manmade objects that have broken free from the chains of
usefulness. They represent freedom of
thought and action: the freedom to
challenge the suffocating historical
with a destabilization of the social order.
Picture yourself in a caf, calmly clacking away at your computer with your mocha
latte frappe venti double shot whatever. If a
stranger plopped down in your lap and
started petting your hair, youd be a bit put off, wouldnt you? Bynum wants to be that stranger. But first,
he needed to learn how social
awkwardness works. Disguising his study
as a human factor survey, he built a
working prototype for a hyperphallic soap
dispenser. The user grasps the device and
dominance of conservative utility; the
freedom to be (almost) useless. It is ID anarchy.
Im not a political anarchist, but I think Im a social anarchist, Bynum says, manipulating the sociality of an environment. He spent the last ten weeks of college investigating the dark side of design. His purpose: to challenge unspoken codes of conduct, to disrupt the
flow of the everyday mundane essentially, to burst your personal bubble.
That is how an awkward encounter begins:
pumps the mechanism to eject foamy soap
from the top. Awkward.
Upon realizing how the soap dispenser
worked, one guy, whom Bynum describes
as a dude-bro male type, just got really weird, he got all, he got chichi, and he
wouldnt look me in the eye anymore. He receded inside of himself, and Im just sitting here. Passive regulation of an awkward encounter means simply sitting
and allowing the awkwardness to fade,
resulting in a heightened sense of time. If
Dude-Bro Male wanted to alleviate the
tension, he could have made a joke about it:
active regulation, laughter. Instead, he
steeped in social mortification.
It gave Bynum an idea. If you insert yourself into these situations and start
making these changes, you realize, Oh, wait. I have control. Part of that control is the ability to embed information specifically, visual information. Advertisers
do it constantly, and this kind of subliminal
messaging has always interested Bynum. He
wants to see if he can embed information
through product design, and in doing so,
distort the social order.
Bynums retinagraph is essentially a Polaroid camera, a thermal printer, and a
viewmaster. Inside, theres an Arduino
program and a 70 ground number of
camera flash circuitry. Think of an
afterimage -- a bright picture flashes and
when you close your eyes, you still see it
afterward. That is what the retinagraph does
to you.
I ask if I can try it. Were outside, in a caf courtyard, and the daylight is broad. It may
not work as well, since my pupils are small
and letting in little light, but Bynum says at
night it would make an imprint lasting at
least ten minutes. Well see. I put my eyes up to the viewmaster part,
looking into blank screens. Bynum presses
a button and a bright light flashes in my
eyes.
I see it. A triangle, a circle, a square, and
some lines in between.
Now if you close your eyes-Its blue -- then its purple --The retinagraph prints something out of its
Polaroid component. Not sure if it prints very well outside, Bynum mumbles. He hands me the receipt-paper printout. You
are the circle. North is the triangle. Go to the
square.
Im not a political anarchist, but I think Im a social anarchist. Bynum says. Manipulating the sociality of an environment.
-
It is the Saturday night before St. Patricks Day in Savannah, Georgia. Brick historic
buildings house charismatic bars with
doors open, bright lights and brighter
smiles, eager for the wads of green that
tourists are about to unload on their
countertops. The sky is clear black and
every street from Broughton to Bay
blocked off, pedestrians only. They take
the advantage. The mass moves like a river
through the streets, splitting into channels,
following paths and paces less by choice
and more by instinct.
They all converge in Ellis Square.
Inebriated strangers stagnate on ledges
like algae on rocks, open containers in
hand. They wear lime felt hats, plastic
beads, kitschy t-shirts, sunglasses at night.
Drunk frat boys yell gracelessly, high
heels falter on cobblestones, and the
whole thing reads as some half-baked
Dionysian farce in fifty shades of green.
Moving articulately, cutting swiftly through
the throng, is David Bynum with his
retinagraph.
Excuse me. Do you want a picture?People have to yell over the pop music,
eyes wide in the dark. The couple sitting
on the bench is skeptical, but the woman
says, Sure.You have to look in here. Its a new kind of camera.Whats it gonna do, squirt water on you or somethin?No, no, absolutely not. Its gonna give her a picture. He holds up the retinagraph, the lady puts her eyes up to the device, and
theres a bright flash.Oh, shit! she cries as it prints out a message. Bynum hands it to the man and
the couples friends gather around to look.Wheres the picture!Its in your eyes, Bynum says. Its developing right now.
He moves on, cutting through the crowd like
a shark through schools of lesser fish. He is
poised with squared shoulders and
windblown hair, scanning the crowd
through his glasses, asking politely.
Excuse me, would you like a free picture?A frat boy, clearly shitfaced, throws his fists
up. Free pictures!!A brunette girl copies him. Free pictures!This is a new kind of camera though, it takes a picture of your eyes, like a reverse
camera, Bynum explains.Is it gonna give me cancer? the guy asks.No, it wont. Wanna try it?Is it gonna suck my soul out? the brunette
cries as Frat Boy, with a glowing green
necklace, leans into the retinagraph
Bynums holding up. Frat Boy steps away, looking back and forth between the
retinagraph and his friends, as if waiting for
their go-ahead.
You just have to look into the eyepiece and smile.He does, it flashes, and he leans back, eyes
closed. Woah.
Bynums professional field was born out of the early 20th century urge to combine the
tradition of art with the novelty of mass
production. Design is, in its most basic form,
creative problem solving; industrial design
(ID) is the solution of products. The
Industrial Designers Society of America
defines the purpose of ID as to optimize the function, values, and appearance of
products and systems for the mutual benefit
of both user and manufacturer. Industrial designers synchronize function with form,
all in the hopes of making it easier for
human beings to exist in the world.
Different schools of ID range from a
complete rejection of aesthetics to
borderline sculpture. Bynum was educated
in the latter, graduating from the Savannah
College of Art and Design in early 2014. At SCAD I tried to push my skills into what
seems like a typical industrial design skill
set, he says, but I dont really fit into that. The idea that we as designers are always
trying to improve the world and make
things better.
He found his fit with Chindogu, a Japanese
concept of product design that completely
rejects consumerism. As the invented word
translates, a chindogu is a really weird tool, one that seems to solve a common, everyday problem, but would be impossible
to actually use. Either it is impractical (a
small broom affixed to the toe of a shoe so
you can sweep on-the-go) or socially
embarrassing (the all-day tissue dispenser: a
hat with a roll of toilet paper on it).
Inherent in every Chindogu is the spirit of anarchy, reads rule no. 3 on the official website. Chindogu are manmade objects that have broken free from the chains of
usefulness. They represent freedom of
thought and action: the freedom to
challenge the suffocating historical
with a destabilization of the social order.
Picture yourself in a caf, calmly clacking away at your computer with your mocha
latte frappe venti double shot whatever. If a
stranger plopped down in your lap and
started petting your hair, youd be a bit put off, wouldnt you? Bynum wants to be that stranger. But first,
he needed to learn how social
awkwardness works. Disguising his study
as a human factor survey, he built a
working prototype for a hyperphallic soap
dispenser. The user grasps the device and
dominance of conservative utility; the
freedom to be (almost) useless. It is ID anarchy.
Im not a political anarchist, but I think Im a social anarchist, Bynum says, manipulating the sociality of an environment. He spent the last ten weeks of college investigating the dark side of design. His purpose: to challenge unspoken codes of conduct, to disrupt the
flow of the everyday mundane essentially, to burst your personal bubble.
That is how an awkward encounter begins:
pumps the mechanism to eject foamy soap
from the top. Awkward.
Upon realizing how the soap dispenser
worked, one guy, whom Bynum describes
as a dude-bro male type, just got really weird, he got all, he got chichi, and he
wouldnt look me in the eye anymore. He receded inside of himself, and Im just sitting here. Passive regulation of an awkward encounter means simply sitting
and allowing the awkwardness to fade,
resulting in a heightened sense of time. If
Dude-Bro Male wanted to alleviate the
tension, he could have made a joke about it:
active regulation, laughter. Instead, he
steeped in social mortification.
It gave Bynum an idea. If you insert yourself into these situations and start
making these changes, you realize, Oh, wait. I have control. Part of that control is the ability to embed information specifically, visual information. Advertisers
do it constantly, and this kind of subliminal
messaging has always interested Bynum. He
wants to see if he can embed information
through product design, and in doing so,
distort the social order.
Bynums retinagraph is essentially a Polaroid camera, a thermal printer, and a
viewmaster. Inside, theres an Arduino
program and a 70 ground number of
camera flash circuitry. Think of an
afterimage -- a bright picture flashes and
when you close your eyes, you still see it
afterward. That is what the retinagraph does
to you.
I ask if I can try it. Were outside, in a caf courtyard, and the daylight is broad. It may
not work as well, since my pupils are small
and letting in little light, but Bynum says at
night it would make an imprint lasting at
least ten minutes. Well see. I put my eyes up to the viewmaster part,
looking into blank screens. Bynum presses
a button and a bright light flashes in my
eyes.
I see it. A triangle, a circle, a square, and
some lines in between.
Now if you close your eyes-Its blue -- then its purple --The retinagraph prints something out of its
Polaroid component. Not sure if it prints very well outside, Bynum mumbles. He hands me the receipt-paper printout. You
are the circle. North is the triangle. Go to the
square.
010
-
It is the Saturday night before St. Patricks Day in Savannah, Georgia. Brick historic
buildings house charismatic bars with
doors open, bright lights and brighter
smiles, eager for the wads of green that
tourists are about to unload on their
countertops. The sky is clear black and
every street from Broughton to Bay
blocked off, pedestrians only. They take
the advantage. The mass moves like a river
through the streets, splitting into channels,
following paths and paces less by choice
and more by instinct.
They all converge in Ellis Square.
Inebriated strangers stagnate on ledges
like algae on rocks, open containers in
hand. They wear lime felt hats, plastic
beads, kitschy t-shirts, sunglasses at night.
Drunk frat boys yell gracelessly, high
heels falter on cobblestones, and the
whole thing reads as some half-baked
Dionysian farce in fifty shades of green.
Moving articulately, cutting swiftly through
the throng, is David Bynum with his
retinagraph.
Excuse me. Do you want a picture?People have to yell over the pop music,
eyes wide in the dark. The couple sitting
on the bench is skeptical, but the woman
says, Sure.You have to look in here. Its a new kind of camera.Whats it gonna do, squirt water on you or somethin?No, no, absolutely not. Its gonna give her a picture. He holds up the retinagraph, the lady puts her eyes up to the device, and
theres a bright flash.Oh, shit! she cries as it prints out a message. Bynum hands it to the man and
the couples friends gather around to look.Wheres the picture!Its in your eyes, Bynum says. Its developing right now.
He moves on, cutting through the crowd like
a shark through schools of lesser fish. He is
poised with squared shoulders and
windblown hair, scanning the crowd
through his glasses, asking politely.
Excuse me, would you like a free picture?A frat boy, clearly shitfaced, throws his fists
up. Free pictures!!A brunette girl copies him. Free pictures!This is a new kind of camera though, it takes a picture of your eyes, like a reverse
camera, Bynum explains.Is it gonna give me cancer? the guy asks.No, it wont. Wanna try it?Is it gonna suck my soul out? the brunette
cries as Frat Boy, with a glowing green
necklace, leans into the retinagraph
Bynums holding up. Frat Boy steps away, looking back and forth between the
retinagraph and his friends, as if waiting for
their go-ahead.
You just have to look into the eyepiece and smile.He does, it flashes, and he leans back, eyes
closed. Woah.
Bynums professional field was born out of the early 20th century urge to combine the
tradition of art with the novelty of mass
production. Design is, in its most basic form,
creative problem solving; industrial design
(ID) is the solution of products. The
Industrial Designers Society of America
defines the purpose of ID as to optimize the function, values, and appearance of
products and systems for the mutual benefit
of both user and manufacturer. Industrial designers synchronize function with form,
all in the hopes of making it easier for
human beings to exist in the world.
Different schools of ID range from a
complete rejection of aesthetics to
borderline sculpture. Bynum was educated
in the latter, graduating from the Savannah
College of Art and Design in early 2014. At SCAD I tried to push my skills into what
seems like a typical industrial design skill
set, he says, but I dont really fit into that. The idea that we as designers are always
trying to improve the world and make
things better.
He found his fit with Chindogu, a Japanese
concept of product design that completely
rejects consumerism. As the invented word
translates, a chindogu is a really weird tool, one that seems to solve a common, everyday problem, but would be impossible
to actually use. Either it is impractical (a
small broom affixed to the toe of a shoe so
you can sweep on-the-go) or socially
embarrassing (the all-day tissue dispenser: a
hat with a roll of toilet paper on it).
Inherent in every Chindogu is the spirit of anarchy, reads rule no. 3 on the official website. Chindogu are manmade objects that have broken free from the chains of
usefulness. They represent freedom of
thought and action: the freedom to
challenge the suffocating historical
with a destabilization of the social order.
Picture yourself in a caf, calmly clacking away at your computer with your mocha
latte frappe venti double shot whatever. If a
stranger plopped down in your lap and
started petting your hair, youd be a bit put off, wouldnt you? Bynum wants to be that stranger. But first,
he needed to learn how social
awkwardness works. Disguising his study
as a human factor survey, he built a
working prototype for a hyperphallic soap
dispenser. The user grasps the device and
dominance of conservative utility; the
freedom to be (almost) useless. It is ID anarchy.
Im not a political anarchist, but I think Im a social anarchist, Bynum says, manipulating the sociality of an environment. He spent the last ten weeks of college investigating the dark side of design. His purpose: to challenge unspoken codes of conduct, to disrupt the
flow of the everyday mundane essentially, to burst your personal bubble.
That is how an awkward encounter begins:
pumps the mechanism to eject foamy soap
from the top. Awkward.
Upon realizing how the soap dispenser
worked, one guy, whom Bynum describes
as a dude-bro male type, just got really weird, he got all, he got chichi, and he
wouldnt look me in the eye anymore. He receded inside of himself, and Im just sitting here. Passive regulation of an awkward encounter means simply sitting
and allowing the awkwardness to fade,
resulting in a heightened sense of time. If
Dude-Bro Male wanted to alleviate the
tension, he could have made a joke about it:
active regulation, laughter. Instead, he
steeped in social mortification.
It gave Bynum an idea. If you insert yourself into these situations and start
making these changes, you realize, Oh, wait. I have control. Part of that control is the ability to embed information specifically, visual information. Advertisers
do it constantly, and this kind of subliminal
messaging has always interested Bynum. He
wants to see if he can embed information
through product design, and in doing so,
distort the social order.
Bynums retinagraph is essentially a Polaroid camera, a thermal printer, and a
viewmaster. Inside, theres an Arduino
program and a 70 ground number of
camera flash circuitry. Think of an
afterimage -- a bright picture flashes and
when you close your eyes, you still see it
afterward. That is what the retinagraph does
to you.
I ask if I can try it. Were outside, in a caf courtyard, and the daylight is broad. It may
not work as well, since my pupils are small
and letting in little light, but Bynum says at
night it would make an imprint lasting at
least ten minutes. Well see. I put my eyes up to the viewmaster part,
looking into blank screens. Bynum presses
a button and a bright light flashes in my
eyes.
I see it. A triangle, a circle, a square, and
some lines in between.
Now if you close your eyes-Its blue -- then its purple --The retinagraph prints something out of its
Polaroid component. Not sure if it prints very well outside, Bynum mumbles. He hands me the receipt-paper printout. You
are the circle. North is the triangle. Go to the
square.
mesh mag
-
creatingcriticalobjects
FINN MAGEE
design article
images courtesy of
finn mageetaylor kigarfinn magee
-
With the state of design in a throttling
consumerism standstill, its nice to see some breaths of fresh airsome designers embracing the wistful, the do-it
yourself, appreciating design for designs sake. We need people to solve problems, to
shake up the milieu, to reconstruct the
world in a new off-kilter process. Finn
Magee is one of those people.
Currently based in London, Finn was first
trained as a product designer at the Royal
College of Art. Hes one of those designers thats very mindful of the current rift opening up in his field. He knows a
creative appetite cannot be fed by
advertising work alone, and that design is
something deeper, something much more
essential and substantial. Finn defines
himself as a creator of critical objects and
is endlessly interested in their theory and
consumption.
His most recent creation was a sweep of
three gicle print posters, one with an image of a desk lamp, another with the
image of an old-school nightstand clock,
and the last of a speaker. They are named,
respectively, Flat Light, Flat Time, and Flat
Soundand each one of them works. The lamp poster will light your bedroom. The
clock will tell you the time, and the
speaker hooks up directly to your iPod.
Why, you may ask? Why the hell not. Flat
Sound is probably the most impressive out
of the three, just because skimping space
shouldnt mean skipping sound quality. This poster was the last installment added
to the series, made in conjunction with
Warwick Audio, and its the thinnest commercially available speaker, measuring
just barely 4 mm. All three posters are for
sale, with a limited edition of 50 per
design (the lamp available in several
different colors). Flat Time is already
completely sold out, and the other two are
quickly following down the same path.
The posters are 420 x 594 mm, and have a
minimal background, simply a photograph
of each object, sitting on the wall, waiting
to be used.
But how do these products fit into the
bigger picture? Put simply, Finns approach to design is refreshing because
he embraces how design affects life. How
it changes our environment and how we
can utilize it for so many different
purposes. On his website he has a page
featured to all the design hacks he
happens upon on a day to day
basisfrom a fishermans rope repurposed as a lock at a pub by the sea
or a mudguard guerilla-jointed over a bike
tire with cling filmthis is a designer in it
purely for the love of solving problems.
The simplest ideas are almost always the
best, and he knows it. Summed up by Finn
himself:
There are only two rules:
1. If its supposed to move, but doesnt; use WD-40.
2. If its not supposed to move, but does; use duct tape.
This is the spirit that we need in
designa hands on, whimsical, no boundary approach. We need to get the
theory off the screens and ads and into
our streets and living rooms. The
techniques of advertising can be used in
this process, and Finn does it well. His
products are humorous and unexpected,
but he instills in it the soul of real purpose
and action. Hes inspired pretty heavily by this Steve Dunn quote about advertising,
and I think it perfectly encapsulates Finns balance between heart and ad work:
I started wearing suits and talking about brand values. And presently, like all
reforming addicts, Im gradually taking every day as it comes. God knows, I still try
and find value in it. But it should only
ever be a small part of any creative life.
Creative enrichment can be found in so
many activities and places, so my final
words of advice are: do advertising, but
dont let advertising do you.
014
-
With the state of design in a throttling
consumerism standstill, its nice to see some breaths of fresh airsome designers embracing the wistful, the do-it
yourself, appreciating design for designs sake. We need people to solve problems, to
shake up the milieu, to reconstruct the
world in a new off-kilter process. Finn
Magee is one of those people.
Currently based in London, Finn was first
trained as a product designer at the Royal
College of Art. Hes one of those designers thats very mindful of the current rift opening up in his field. He knows a
creative appetite cannot be fed by
advertising work alone, and that design is
something deeper, something much more
essential and substantial. Finn defines
himself as a creator of critical objects and
is endlessly interested in their theory and
consumption.
His most recent creation was a sweep of
three gicle print posters, one with an image of a desk lamp, another with the
image of an old-school nightstand clock,
and the last of a speaker. They are named,
respectively, Flat Light, Flat Time, and Flat
Soundand each one of them works. The lamp poster will light your bedroom. The
clock will tell you the time, and the
speaker hooks up directly to your iPod.
Why, you may ask? Why the hell not. Flat
Sound is probably the most impressive out
of the three, just because skimping space
shouldnt mean skipping sound quality. This poster was the last installment added
to the series, made in conjunction with
Warwick Audio, and its the thinnest commercially available speaker, measuring
just barely 4 mm. All three posters are for
sale, with a limited edition of 50 per
design (the lamp available in several
different colors). Flat Time is already
completely sold out, and the other two are
quickly following down the same path.
The posters are 420 x 594 mm, and have a
minimal background, simply a photograph
of each object, sitting on the wall, waiting
to be used.
But how do these products fit into the
bigger picture? Put simply, Finns approach to design is refreshing because
he embraces how design affects life. How
it changes our environment and how we
can utilize it for so many different
purposes. On his website he has a page
featured to all the design hacks he
happens upon on a day to day
basisfrom a fishermans rope repurposed as a lock at a pub by the sea
or a mudguard guerilla-jointed over a bike
tire with cling filmthis is a designer in it
purely for the love of solving problems.
The simplest ideas are almost always the
best, and he knows it. Summed up by Finn
himself:
There are only two rules:
1. If its supposed to move, but doesnt; use WD-40.
2. If its not supposed to move, but does; use duct tape.
This is the spirit that we need in
designa hands on, whimsical, no boundary approach. We need to get the
theory off the screens and ads and into
our streets and living rooms. The
techniques of advertising can be used in
this process, and Finn does it well. His
products are humorous and unexpected,
but he instills in it the soul of real purpose
and action. Hes inspired pretty heavily by this Steve Dunn quote about advertising,
and I think it perfectly encapsulates Finns balance between heart and ad work:
I started wearing suits and talking about brand values. And presently, like all
reforming addicts, Im gradually taking every day as it comes. God knows, I still try
and find value in it. But it should only
ever be a small part of any creative life.
Creative enrichment can be found in so
many activities and places, so my final
words of advice are: do advertising, but
dont let advertising do you.
mesh mag
-
With the state of design in a throttling
consumerism standstill, its nice to see some breaths of fresh airsome designers embracing the wistful, the do-it
yourself, appreciating design for designs sake. We need people to solve problems, to
shake up the milieu, to reconstruct the
world in a new off-kilter process. Finn
Magee is one of those people.
Currently based in London, Finn was first
trained as a product designer at the Royal
College of Art. Hes one of those designers thats very mindful of the current rift opening up in his field. He knows a
creative appetite cannot be fed by
advertising work alone, and that design is
something deeper, something much more
essential and substantial. Finn defines
himself as a creator of critical objects and
is endlessly interested in their theory and
consumption.
His most recent creation was a sweep of
three gicle print posters, one with an image of a desk lamp, another with the
image of an old-school nightstand clock,
and the last of a speaker. They are named,
respectively, Flat Light, Flat Time, and Flat
Soundand each one of them works. The lamp poster will light your bedroom. The
clock will tell you the time, and the
speaker hooks up directly to your iPod.
Why, you may ask? Why the hell not. Flat
Sound is probably the most impressive out
of the three, just because skimping space
shouldnt mean skipping sound quality. This poster was the last installment added
to the series, made in conjunction with
Warwick Audio, and its the thinnest commercially available speaker, measuring
just barely 4 mm. All three posters are for
sale, with a limited edition of 50 per
design (the lamp available in several
different colors). Flat Time is already
completely sold out, and the other two are
quickly following down the same path.
The posters are 420 x 594 mm, and have a
minimal background, simply a photograph
of each object, sitting on the wall, waiting
to be used.
But how do these products fit into the
bigger picture? Put simply, Finns approach to design is refreshing because
he embraces how design affects life. How
it changes our environment and how we
can utilize it for so many different
purposes. On his website he has a page
featured to all the design hacks he
happens upon on a day to day
basisfrom a fishermans rope repurposed as a lock at a pub by the sea
or a mudguard guerilla-jointed over a bike
tire with cling filmthis is a designer in it
purely for the love of solving problems.
The simplest ideas are almost always the
best, and he knows it. Summed up by Finn
himself:
There are only two rules:
1. If its supposed to move, but doesnt; use WD-40.
2. If its not supposed to move, but does; use duct tape.
This is the spirit that we need in
designa hands on, whimsical, no boundary approach. We need to get the
theory off the screens and ads and into
our streets and living rooms. The
techniques of advertising can be used in
this process, and Finn does it well. His
products are humorous and unexpected,
but he instills in it the soul of real purpose
and action. Hes inspired pretty heavily by this Steve Dunn quote about advertising,
and I think it perfectly encapsulates Finns balance between heart and ad work:
I started wearing suits and talking about brand values. And presently, like all
reforming addicts, Im gradually taking every day as it comes. God knows, I still try
and find value in it. But it should only
ever be a small part of any creative life.
Creative enrichment can be found in so
many activities and places, so my final
words of advice are: do advertising, but
dont let advertising do you.
016
-
What do
bananas,ostriches,
andkangaroos
havein common?
DESIGNstudio banana things
ARTICLE
taylor kigar
IMAGES COURTESY OFstudio banana things
-
Studio Banana began as a small start-up
in Madrid and is now an international pool
of connected departments covering
services in communications design,
environment design, and process design
facilitation. One of their many initiatives
called Studio Banana Things is
internationally known for their fun,
whimsical approach to problem solving
and design thinking. What first put Studio
Banana Things on the map was their
product the Ostrich Pillow, which went
viral on media everywhere, featured on
numerous websites, talk shows, and blogs
all over the world. Called a napping
revolution, the Ostrich Pillow is an all
around head cushion that acts as a pillow,
eye mask, and noise reducerperfect for long flights or when you need to get some
rest at the office. The product was so
successful that quite a few companies
started making knock off versions
illegally. We all know that imitation is not
only the finest form of flattery, its also a great indication of a brilliant idea.
After another successful Kickstarter
campaign and collaboration with the
Innovation Quarter at Bangor University in
the UK, Studio Banana Things is back
with their next product, the Kangaroo
Light: an inventive, playful personal LED
light that can be used anywhere. Because
of its flexible hexagonal joint design
made with a silicone exterior, its soft, foldable, and bendable, perfect for
finding things in your bag, using as an
ambient or personal reading light, a
nightlight for small children, or simply to
take portably on a long drive or while
camping.
The light is also splash proof and its 24
built-in LED lights are Arduino compatible,
allowing you to completely customize and
program it to flash in patterns, to adjust
the intensity, or to just have it randomly
flicker for a more ambient effect. The
battery is Lithium-Ion powered and runs
for about 2.5 hours, rechargeable by an
included USB Port.
Studio Banana is an exemplary design
company, and every day theyre proving that its possible to fuse together creative, passionate design while still solving
problems. True to their mission statement,
the studio recognizes that in our
increasingly complex world, these
problems can no longer be solved with
fragmented tools and ideas. Solutions can
only be arrived at with transdisciplinary methods in order to truly innovate and design for tomorrow. By working at the
intersection of all creative disciplines,
Studio Banana operates with an equal
participation between clients and partners
to create novel products, but, above all,
they acknowledge that creation and
collaboration is really based on trust. Not
only the trust between a designer and
their client, but the trust that a designer
has in their own intentions. Its apparent that in every one of their products, the
passion of novel design stands above all
else. This is a company keeping the art of
design paramount to any client s whims or search for profit. Its design for the sake of solving problems, and design for
the bettering of our lives, even if its just to show us a little more fun.
You have just emerged from your Wagon
Station at A-Z Encampment, a subspace of
Andrea Zittels A-Z West community just outside of Joshua Tree National Park. For
one month, you will live in a pod set
against the dusty horizon, sharing a
compost bathroom and communal cooking
area in the middle of desert with eleven
other like-minded creators and makers.
You will build sculptures between cacti in
the High Desert Test Site. Your notebook
will fill with sand from exploring and
drawing and scribbling on pages nestled
between stone outcroppings in the sun. As
the days pass, you will start to reevaluate
what it really means to need something -- you have the entire desert before you,
fellow artists beside you and the bare
necessities at your back. What else could
you need?
Before A-Z West was even a glint in the
sand, Zittel dedicated her personhood to
understanding the social construction of needs as described on the Zittel.org website. In the early 90s, Zittel launched
the Office for A-Z Administrative Services in
a 200-square-foot apartment which
doubled as her home. This would be the
space in which she would create her first
experimental projects, including A-Z Living Spaces, a set of modular furniture that, as its namesake claimed, included all the amenities (from A-Z) one person
needed to live with limited space. Since
1992, Zittel has been creating clothing to
wear throughout four to six month periods
in an attempt to understand the stigma
surrounding wearing the same outfit twice.
For Zittel, isolation its variety of forms has
been both comforting and challenging.
Back in Joshua Tree, 14 years has grown
A-Z West from a temporary autonomous
zone to a functional and active community.
Zittels original A-Z office in Brooklyn has become A-Z East, and as A-Z West
continues to grow, Zittel has begun
renovations on a not-so-secret secret cabin.
On her blog, Zittel explains the need to
re-isolate herself in an already isolated
world by saying that A-Z West is an amazing place to work, and to meet an
incredible group of people who are
constantly passing through but for someone with slightly anti-social
tendencies, such a public life can at times
be a bit rough.
So what does public life look like to Zittel? In a 2013 lecture at Boston
University, Zittel described the inability for
her to A-Z her boyfriend (who would break all of the A-Z furniture hed sit on). In 1991, after six months of wearing the
same outfit to work every single day, her
boss ironically asked her if shed worn the same thing the day before. In 1998, she
continued, her installation Raugh Furniture was covered with nude models to discourage people from sitting on it
because it was so fragile. Instead, Zittel
quipped, the showgoers took off their own
clothes and joined the models on the
sculptures. She spent years paying off the
gallery for the destroyed work.
Even after so much time embedded in the
artistic community as a maker, Zittels public life that is so deeply fused to her
real life just doesnt translate efficiently for others. She explains this disconnection
in relationship to A-Z Living Spaces and the collectors whove purchased them:
These experiences were heavily mediated [A-Z Living Spaces] didnt work for other people the way they
worked for me. There was something
artificial. When somebody does an art
experiment and someone tries living in it,
its a novelty. Someone will do it for a day or two, and then theyll use it as a guest room or an exotic experience, but its not a life experiment, which is how they
functioned for me. My own experiences are
the only ones I can control.
Thanks to Zittels work building and
expanding the program at A-Z West, artists
have the opportunity to unearth their own
social construction of needs. But the one month period residents can stay at the
Wagon Station hardly compares to the
lifetime of work Zittel has built around her
own experiences. In that sense, it seems
that Zittel hopes A-Z West can reach far
beyond the constraints of time and space to
impact the experiential processes of its visitors long after theyve left the desert. What do we need as humans -- as artists --
to survive the heat of the real world? Can
we integrate our experiences and
interactions into our ever-present desire to
create? And what, if anything, can fuse the
gap between the two?
018
-
Studio Banana began as a small start-up
in Madrid and is now an international pool
of connected departments covering
services in communications design,
environment design, and process design
facilitation. One of their many initiatives
called Studio Banana Things is
internationally known for their fun,
whimsical approach to problem solving
and design thinking. What first put Studio
Banana Things on the map was their
product the Ostrich Pillow, which went
viral on media everywhere, featured on
numerous websites, talk shows, and blogs
all over the world. Called a napping
revolution, the Ostrich Pillow is an all
around head cushion that acts as a pillow,
eye mask, and noise reducerperfect for long flights or when you need to get some
rest at the office. The product was so
successful that quite a few companies
started making knock off versions
illegally. We all know that imitation is not
only the finest form of flattery, its also a great indication of a brilliant idea.
After another successful Kickstarter
campaign and collaboration with the
Innovation Quarter at Bangor University in
the UK, Studio Banana Things is back
with their next product, the Kangaroo
Light: an inventive, playful personal LED
light that can be used anywhere. Because
of its flexible hexagonal joint design
made with a silicone exterior, its soft, foldable, and bendable, perfect for
finding things in your bag, using as an
ambient or personal reading light, a
nightlight for small children, or simply to
take portably on a long drive or while
camping.
The light is also splash proof and its 24
built-in LED lights are Arduino compatible,
allowing you to completely customize and
program it to flash in patterns, to adjust
the intensity, or to just have it randomly
flicker for a more ambient effect. The
battery is Lithium-Ion powered and runs
for about 2.5 hours, rechargeable by an
included USB Port.
Studio Banana is an exemplary design
company, and every day theyre proving that its possible to fuse together creative, passionate design while still solving
problems. True to their mission statement,
the studio recognizes that in our
increasingly complex world, these
problems can no longer be solved with
fragmented tools and ideas. Solutions can
only be arrived at with transdisciplinary methods in order to truly innovate and design for tomorrow. By working at the
intersection of all creative disciplines,
Studio Banana operates with an equal
participation between clients and partners
to create novel products, but, above all,
they acknowledge that creation and
collaboration is really based on trust. Not
only the trust between a designer and
their client, but the trust that a designer
has in their own intentions. Its apparent that in every one of their products, the
passion of novel design stands above all
else. This is a company keeping the art of
design paramount to any client s whims or search for profit. Its design for the sake of solving problems, and design for
the bettering of our lives, even if its just to show us a little more fun.
its design for the sake of solving problems, and design for the bettering of our lives.
Even if its just to show us a little more fun.
You have just emerged from your Wagon
Station at A-Z Encampment, a subspace of
Andrea Zittels A-Z West community just outside of Joshua Tree National Park. For
one month, you will live in a pod set
against the dusty horizon, sharing a
compost bathroom and communal cooking
area in the middle of desert with eleven
other like-minded creators and makers.
You will build sculptures between cacti in
the High Desert Test Site. Your notebook
will fill with sand from exploring and
drawing and scribbling on pages nestled
between stone outcroppings in the sun. As
the days pass, you will start to reevaluate
what it really means to need something -- you have the entire desert before you,
fellow artists beside you and the bare
necessities at your back. What else could
you need?
Before A-Z West was even a glint in the
sand, Zittel dedicated her personhood to
understanding the social construction of needs as described on the Zittel.org website. In the early 90s, Zittel launched
the Office for A-Z Administrative Services in
a 200-square-foot apartment which
doubled as her home. This would be the
space in which she would create her first
experimental projects, including A-Z Living Spaces, a set of modular furniture that, as its namesake claimed, included all the amenities (from A-Z) one person
needed to live with limited space. Since
1992, Zittel has been creating clothing to
wear throughout four to six month periods
in an attempt to understand the stigma
surrounding wearing the same outfit twice.
For Zittel, isolation its variety of forms has
been both comforting and challenging.
Back in Joshua Tree, 14 years has grown
A-Z West from a temporary autonomous
zone to a functional and active community.
Zittels original A-Z office in Brooklyn has become A-Z East, and as A-Z West
continues to grow, Zittel has begun
renovations on a not-so-secret secret cabin.
On her blog, Zittel explains the need to
re-isolate herself in an already isolated
world by saying that A-Z West is an amazing place to work, and to meet an
incredible group of people who are
constantly passing through but for someone with slightly anti-social
tendencies, such a public life can at times
be a bit rough.
So what does public life look like to Zittel? In a 2013 lecture at Boston
University, Zittel described the inability for
her to A-Z her boyfriend (who would break all of the A-Z furniture hed sit on). In 1991, after six months of wearing the
same outfit to work every single day, her
boss ironically asked her if shed worn the same thing the day before. In 1998, she
continued, her installation Raugh Furniture was covered with nude models to discourage people from sitting on it
because it was so fragile. Instead, Zittel
quipped, the showgoers took off their own
clothes and joined the models on the
sculptures. She spent years paying off the
gallery for the destroyed work.
Even after so much time embedded in the
artistic community as a maker, Zittels public life that is so deeply fused to her
real life just doesnt translate efficiently for others. She explains this disconnection
in relationship to A-Z Living Spaces and the collectors whove purchased them:
These experiences were heavily mediated [A-Z Living Spaces] didnt work for other people the way they
worked for me. There was something
artificial. When somebody does an art
experiment and someone tries living in it,
its a novelty. Someone will do it for a day or two, and then theyll use it as a guest room or an exotic experience, but its not a life experiment, which is how they
functioned for me. My own experiences are
the only ones I can control.
Thanks to Zittels work building and
expanding the program at A-Z West, artists
have the opportunity to unearth their own
social construction of needs. But the one month period residents can stay at the
Wagon Station hardly compares to the
lifetime of work Zittel has built around her
own experiences. In that sense, it seems
that Zittel hopes A-Z West can reach far
beyond the constraints of time and space to
impact the experiential processes of its visitors long after theyve left the desert. What do we need as humans -- as artists --
to survive the heat of the real world? Can
we integrate our experiences and
interactions into our ever-present desire to
create? And what, if anything, can fuse the
gap between the two?
mesh mag
-
Studio Banana began as a small start-up
in Madrid and is now an international pool
of connected departments covering
services in communications design,
environment design, and process design
facilitation. One of their many initiatives
called Studio Banana Things is
internationally known for their fun,
whimsical approach to problem solving
and design thinking. What first put Studio
Banana Things on the map was their
product the Ostrich Pillow, which went
viral on media everywhere, featured on
numerous websites, talk shows, and blogs
all over the world. Called a napping
revolution, the Ostrich Pillow is an all
around head cushion that acts as a pillow,
eye mask, and noise reducerperfect for long flights or when you need to get some
rest at the office. The product was so
successful that quite a few companies
started making knock off versions
illegally. We all know that imitation is not
only the finest form of flattery, its also a great indication of a brilliant idea.
After another successful Kickstarter
campaign and collaboration with the
Innovation Quarter at Bangor University in
the UK, Studio Banana Things is back
with their next product, the Kangaroo
Light: an inventive, playful personal LED
light that can be used anywhere. Because
of its flexible hexagonal joint design
made with a silicone exterior, its soft, foldable, and bendable, perfect for
finding things in your bag, using as an
ambient or personal reading light, a
nightlight for small children, or simply to
take portably on a long drive or while
camping.
The light is also splash proof and its 24
built-in LED lights are Arduino compatible,
allowing you to completely customize and
program it to flash in patterns, to adjust
the intensity, or to just have it randomly
flicker for a more ambient effect. The
battery is Lithium-Ion powered and runs
for about 2.5 hours, rechargeable by an
included USB Port.
Studio Banana is an exemplary design
company, and every day theyre proving that its possible to fuse together creative, passionate design while still solving
problems. True to their mission statement,
the studio recognizes that in our
increasingly complex world, these
problems can no longer be solved with
fragmented tools and ideas. Solutions can
only be arrived at with transdisciplinary methods in order to truly innovate and design for tomorrow. By working at the
intersection of all creative disciplines,
Studio Banana operates with an equal
participation between clients and partners
to create novel products, but, above all,
they acknowledge that creation and
collaboration is really based on trust. Not
only the trust between a designer and
their client, but the trust that a designer
has in their own intentions. Its apparent that in every one of their products, the
passion of novel design stands above all
else. This is a company keeping the art of
design paramount to any client s whims or search for profit. Its design for the sake of solving problems, and design for
the bettering of our lives, even if its just to show us a little more fun.
You have just emerged from your Wagon
Station at A-Z Encampment, a subspace of
Andrea Zittels A-Z West community just outside of Joshua Tree National Park. For
one month, you will live in a pod set
against the dusty horizon, sharing a
compost bathroom and communal cooking
area in the middle of desert with eleven
other like-minded creators and makers.
You will build sculptures between cacti in
the High Desert Test Site. Your notebook
will fill with sand from exploring and
drawing and scribbling on pages nestled
between stone outcroppings in the sun. As
the days pass, you will start to reevaluate
what it really means to need something -- you have the entire desert before you,
fellow artists beside you and the bare
necessities at your back. What else could
you need?
Before A-Z West was even a glint in the
sand, Zittel dedicated her personhood to
understanding the social construction of needs as described on the Zittel.org website. In the early 90s, Zittel launched
the Office for A-Z Administrative Services in
a 200-square-foot apartment which
doubled as her home. This would be the
space in which she would create her first
experimental projects, including A-Z Living Spaces, a set of modular furniture that, as its namesake claimed, included all the amenities (from A-Z) one person
needed to live with limited space. Since
1992, Zittel has been creating clothing to
wear throughout four to six month periods
in an attempt to understand the stigma
surrounding wearing the same outfit twice.
For Zittel, isolation its variety of forms has
been both comforting and challenging.
Back in Joshua Tree, 14 years has grown
A-Z West from a temporary autonomous
zone to a functional and active community.
Zittels original A-Z office in Brooklyn has become A-Z East, and as A-Z West
continues to grow, Zittel has begun
renovations on a not-so-secret secret cabin.
On her blog, Zittel explains the need to
re-isolate herself in an already isolated
world by saying that A-Z West is an amazing place to work, and to meet an
incredible group of people who are
constantly passing through but for someone with slightly anti-social
tendencies, such a public life can at times
be a bit rough.
So what does public life look like to Zittel? In a 2013 lecture at Boston
University, Zittel described the inability for
her to A-Z her boyfriend (who would break all of the A-Z furniture hed sit on). In 1991, after six months of wearing the
same outfit to work every single day, her
boss ironically asked her if shed worn the same thing the day before. In 1998, she
continued, her installation Raugh Furniture was covered with nude models to discourage people from sitting on it
because it was so fragile. Instead, Zittel
quipped, the showgoers took off their own
clothes and joined the models on the
sculptures. She spent years paying off the
gallery for the destroyed work.
Even after so much time embedded in the
artistic community as a maker, Zittels public life that is so deeply fused to her
real life just doesnt translate efficiently for others. She explains this disconnection
in relationship to A-Z Living Spaces and the collectors whove purchased them:
These experiences were heavily mediated [A-Z Living Spaces] didnt work for other people the way they
worked for me. There was something
artificial. When somebody does an art
experiment and someone tries living in it,
its a novelty. Someone will do it for a day or two, and then theyll use it as a guest room or an exotic experience, but its not a life experiment, which is how they
functioned for me. My own experiences are
the only ones I can control.
Thanks to Zittels work building and
expanding the program at A-Z West, artists
have the opportunity to unearth their own
social construction of needs. But the one month period residents can stay at the
Wagon Station hardly compares to the
lifetime of work Zittel has built around her
own experiences. In that sense, it seems
that Zittel hopes A-Z West can reach far
beyond the constraints of time and space to
impact the experiential processes of its visitors long after theyve left the desert. What do we need as humans -- as artists --
to survive the heat of the real world? Can
we integrate our experiences and
interactions into our ever-present desire to
create? And what, if anything, can fuse the
gap between the two?
020
-
AndreaZittel
designarticle
photography
andrea zittelraine blunkcourtesy ofandrea zittel
Indy
Isla
nd, 2
010
You have just emerged from your Wagon
Station at A-Z Encampment, a subspace of
Andrea Zittels A-Z West community just outside of Joshua Tree National Park. For
one month, you will live in a pod set
against the dusty horizon, sharing a
compost bathroom and communal cooking
area in the middle of desert with eleven
other like-minded creators and makers.
You will build sculptures between cacti in
the High Desert Test Site. Your notebook
will fill with sand from exploring and
drawing and scribbling on pages nestled
between stone outcroppings in the sun. As
the days pass, you will start to reevaluate
what it really means to need something -- you have the entire desert before you,
fellow artists beside you and the bare
necessities at your back. What else could
you need?
Before A-Z West was even a glint in the
sand, Zittel dedicated her personhood to
understanding the social construction of needs as described on the Zittel.org website. In the early 90s, Zittel launched
the Office for A-Z Administrative Services in
a 200-square-foot apartment which
doubled as her home. This would be the
space in which she would create her first
experimental projects, including A-Z Living Spaces, a set of modular furniture that, as its namesake claimed, included all the amenities (from A-Z) one person
needed to live with limited space. Since
1992, Zittel has been creating clothing to
wear throughout four to six month periods
in an attempt to understand the stigma
surrounding wearing the same outfit twice.
For Zittel, isolation its variety of forms has
been both comforting and challenging.
Back in Joshua Tree, 14 years has grown
A-Z West from a temporary autonomous
zone to a functional and active community.
Zittels original A-Z office in Brooklyn has become A-Z East, and as A-Z West
continues to grow, Zittel has begun
renovations on a not-so-secret secret cabin.
On her blog, Zittel explains the need to
re-isolate herself in an already isolated
world by saying that A-Z West is an amazing place to work, and to meet an
incredible group of people who are
constantly passing through but for someone with slightly anti-social
tendencies, such a public life can at times
be a bit rough.
So what does public life look like to Zittel? In a 2013 lecture at Boston
University, Zittel described the inability for
her to A-Z her boyfriend (who would break all of the A-Z furniture hed sit on). In 1991, after six months of wearing the
same outfit to work every single day, her
boss ironically asked her if shed worn the same thing the day before. In 1998, she
continued, her installation Raugh Furniture was covered with nude models to discourage people from sitting on it
because it was so fragile. Instead, Zittel
quipped, the showgoers took off their own
clothes and joined the models on the
sculptures. She spent years paying off the
gallery for the destroyed work.
Even after so much time embedded in the
artistic community as a maker, Zittels public life that is so deeply fused to her
real life just doesnt translate efficiently for others. She explains this disconnection
in relationship to A-Z Living Spaces and the collectors whove purchased them:
These experiences were heavily mediated [A-Z Living Spaces] didnt work for other people the way they
worked for me. There was something
artificial. When somebody does an art
experiment and someone tries living in it,
its a novelty. Someone will do it for a day or two, and then theyll use it as a guest room or an exotic experience, but its not a life experiment, which is how they
functioned for me. My own experiences are
the only ones I can control.
Thanks to Zittels work building and
expanding the program at A-Z West, artists
have the opportunity to unearth their own
social construction of needs. But the one month period residents can stay at the
Wagon Station hardly compares to the
lifetime of work Zittel has built around her
own experiences. In that sense, it seems
that Zittel hopes A-Z West can reach far
beyond the constraints of time and space to
impact the experiential processes of its visitors long after theyve left the desert. What do we need as humans -- as artists --
to survive the heat of the real world? Can
we integrate our experiences and
interactions into our ever-present desire to
create? And what, if anything, can fuse the
gap between the two?
mesh mag
-
You have just emerged from your Wagon
Station at A-Z Encampment, a subspace of
Andrea Zittels A-Z West community just outside of Joshua Tree National Park. For
one month, you will live in a pod set
against the dusty horizon, sharing a
compost bathroom and communal cooking
area in the middle of desert with eleven
other like-minded creators and makers.
You will build sculptures between cacti in
the High Desert Test Site. Your notebook
will fill with sand from exploring and
drawing and scribbling on pages nestled
between stone outcroppings in the sun. As
the days pass, you will start to reevaluate
what it really means to need something -- you have the entire desert before you,
fellow artists beside you and the bare
necessities at your back. What else could
you need?
Before A-Z West was even a glint in the
sand, Zittel dedicated her personhood to
understanding the social construction of needs as described on the Zittel.org website. In the early 90s, Zittel launched
the Office for A-Z Administrative Services in
a 200-square-foot apartment which
doubled as her home. This would be the
space in which she would create her first
experimental projects, including A-Z Living Spaces, a set of modular furniture that, as its namesake claimed, included all the amenities (from A-Z) one person
needed to live with limited space. Since
1992, Zittel has been creating clothing to
wear throughout four to six month periods
in an attempt to understand the stigma
surrounding wearing the same outfit twice.
For Zittel, isolation its variety of forms has
been both comforting and challenging.
Back in Joshua Tree, 14 years has grown
A-Z West from a temporary autonomous
zone to a functional and active community.
Zittels original A-Z office in Brooklyn has become A-Z East, and as A-Z West
continues to grow, Zittel has begun
renovations on a not-so-secret secret cabin.
On her blog, Zittel explains the need to
re-isolate herself in an already isolated
world by saying that A-Z West is an amazing place to work, and to meet an
incredible group of people who are
constantly passing through but for someone with slightly anti-social
tendencies, such a public life can at times
be a bit rough.
So what does public life look like to Zittel? In a 2013 lecture at Boston
University, Zittel described the inability for
her to A-Z her boyfriend (who would break all of the A-Z furniture hed sit on). In 1991, after six months of wearing the
same outfit to work every single day, her
boss ironically asked her if shed worn the same thing the day before. In 1998, she
continued, her installation Raugh Furniture was covered with nude models to discourage people from sitting on it
because it was so fragile. Instead, Zittel
quipped, the showgoers took off their own
clothes and joined the models on the
sculptures. She spent years paying off the
gallery for the destroyed work.
Even after so much time embedded in the
artistic community as a maker, Zittels public life that is so deeply fused to her
real life just doesnt translate efficiently for others. She explains this disconnection
in relationship to A-Z Living Spaces and the collectors whove purchased them:
These experiences were heavily mediated [A-Z Living Spaces] didnt work for other people the way they
worked for me. There was something
artificial. When somebody does an art
experiment and someone tries living in it,
its a novelty. Someone will do it for a day or two, and then theyll use it as a guest room or an exotic experience, but its not a life experiment, which is how they
functioned for me. My own experiences are
the only ones I can control.
Thanks to Zittels work building and
expanding the program at A-Z West, artists
have the opportunity to unearth their own
social construction of needs. But the one month period residents can stay at the
Wagon Station hardly compares to the
lifetime of work Zittel has built around her
own experiences. In that sense, it seems
that Zittel hopes A-Z West can reach far
beyond the constraints of time and space to
impact the experiential processes of its visitors long after theyve left the desert. What do we need as humans -- as artists --
to survive the heat of the real world? Can
we integrate our experiences and
interactions into our ever-present desire to
create? And what, if anything, can fuse the
gap between the two?
022
-
You have just emerged from your Wagon
Station at A-Z Encampment, a subspace of
Andrea Zittels A-Z West community just outside of Joshua Tree National Park. For
one month, you will live in a pod set
against the dusty horizon, sharing a
compost bathroom and communal cooking
area in the middle of desert with eleven
other like-minded creators and makers.
You will build sculptures between cacti in
the High Desert Test Site. Your notebook
will fill with sand from exploring and
drawing and scribbling on pages nestled
between stone outcroppings in the sun. As
the days pass, you will start to reevaluate
what it really means to need something -- you have the entire desert before you,
fellow artists beside you and the bare
necessities at your back. What else could
you need?
Before A-Z West was even a glint in the
sand, Zittel dedicated her personhood to
understanding the social construction of needs as described on the Zittel.org website. In the early 90s, Zittel launched
the Office for A-Z Administrative Services in
a 200-square-foot apartment which
doubled as her home. This would be the
space in which she would create her first
experimental projects, including A-Z Living Spaces, a set of modular furniture that, as its namesake claimed, included all the amenities (from A-Z) one person
needed to live with limited space. Since
1992, Zittel has been creating clothing to
wear throughout four to six month periods
in an attempt to understand the stigma
surrounding wearing the same outfit twice.
For Zittel, isolation its variety of forms has
been both comforting and challenging.
Back in Joshua Tree, 14 years has grown
A-Z West from a temporary autonomous
zone to a functional and active community.
Zittels original A-Z office in Brooklyn has become A-Z East, and as A-Z West
continues to grow, Zittel has begun
renovations on a not-so-secret secret cabin.
On her blog, Zittel explains the need to
re-isolate herself in an already isolated
world by saying that A-Z West is an amazing place to work, and to meet an
incredible group of people who are
constantly passing through but for someone with slightly anti-social
tendencies, such a public life can at times
be a bit rough.
So what does public life look like to Zittel? In a 2013 lecture at Boston
University, Zittel described the inability for
her to A-Z her boyfriend (who would break all of the A-Z furniture hed sit on). In 1991, after six months of wearing the
same outfit to work every single day, her
boss ironically asked her if shed worn the same thing the day before. In 1998, she
continued, her installation Raugh Furniture was covered with nude models to discourage people from sitting on it
because it was so fragile. Instead, Zittel
quipped, the showgoers took off their own
clothes and joined the models on the
sculptures. She spent years paying off the
gallery for the destroyed work.
Even after so much time embedded in the
artistic community as a maker, Zittels public life that is so deeply fused to her
New
Rau
gh F
urni
ture
real life just doesnt translate efficiently for others. She explains this disconnection
in relationship to A-Z Living Spaces and the collectors whove purchased them:
These experiences were heavily mediated [A-Z Living Spaces] didnt work for other people the way they
worked for me. There was something
artificial. When somebody does an art
experiment and someone tries living in it,
its a novelty. Someone will do it for a day or two, and then theyll use it as a guest room or an exotic experience, but its not a life experiment, which is how they
functioned for me. My own experiences are
the only ones I can control.
Thanks to Zittels work building and
expanding the program at A-Z West, artists
have the opportunity to unearth their own
social construction of needs. But the one month period residents can stay at the
Wagon Station hardly compares to the
lifetime of work Zittel has built around her
own experiences. In that sense, it seems
that Zittel hopes A-Z West can reach far
beyond the constraints of time and space to
impact the experiential processes of its visitors long after theyve left the desert. What do we need as humans -- as artists --
to survive the heat of the real world? Can
we integrate our experiences and
interactions into our ever-present desire to
create? And what, if anything, can fuse the
gap between the two?
mesh mag
-
You have just emerged from your Wagon
Station at A-Z Encampment, a subspace of
Andrea Zittels A-Z West community just outside of Joshua Tree National Park. For
one month, you will live in a pod set
against the dusty horizon, sharing a
compost bathroom and