Issue 003

36
ISSUE 003 SUMMER 2014 M E S H FEATURED david bynum finn magee studio banana things andrea zittel tanner bowman allon kapeller-libermann

description

 

Transcript of Issue 003

  • 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

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    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