O arquitecto projecta, actualmente, uma percentagem muito pequena do espaço organizado; não vemos aliás como poderia projectar "tudo" e do interesse mesmo que haveria em que ele "tudo" ptojectasse, até porque não têm limite as actividades de organização do espaço arquitectónico. Cremos, sim, que a ele compete a criação de protótipos e sem dúvida, portanto, o comando do espaço organizado naquilo que à sua profissão diz respeito; mas aceitamos que, para um grande número de obras, ele possa não ser chamado, na medida em que "os outros" — profissionais ou não — saibam organizar o espaço com lógica e com beleza, condições que, diga-se em abono da verdade, o arquitecto muitas vezes não possui, facto que deve dotá-lo de uma certa humildade ao criticar os mesmos "outros" que, por vezes, possuem tais qualidades em maior grau que ele próprio.
"Tenho dificuldades em fazer a distinção entre brincar e fazer design. Muito daquilo que fazemos no design é brincar. Testar coisas enquanto ideias, enquanto conceitos, mas também, enquanto objectos no espaço, brincamos com coisas."
As ideias – “o embrião” – costumam surgir momentos de solidão, embora evoluam e se materializem quando as partilha. “Os outros abrem-te o espaço criativo”, sublinha. O estar só, prossegue, permite também conhecer-se melhor: “Quando estás sozinho, avalias-te. Ficas com uma consciência muito grande. Sabes do que precisas, das tuas fraquezas e qualidades. Evoluis muito no autoconhecimento, porque quando estás rodeado de pessoas diverges e perdes consciência”.
GZ: (…) When I watch you work, even with gear that’s unfamiliar to you, I’m always impressed with your ability to poke at lots of different angles and then quickly filter them into something that is both exciting and consistent. (…)
B: (…) I learned from my experiences that when I overthink a problem, I become very self-conscious, trapped in my own thoughts, and start having blockages. Every time I’m in those kind of situations, I just put my bergsonist hat on and act like a naive child but still following the aesthetics I cultivated since I started this whole thing. (…)
We speak a lot during the start of the project, and we ask a lot of questions to our client. Than we start up Indesign or Illustrator and make first sketches. We always start the projects right on the computer, and do only little sketching on paper. We save every version of these sketches and archive them on our servers. I think every poster we did had at least 10 very different visual directions and 50 versions in-between those. When everything is settled—the information is there, the mood is right, the images are striking—we have a look all together and decide on how we are finishing the work and how we present the work to the client.
The art historian Aby Warburg (1866–1929) is said to have donated his significant family inheritance to his youngest brother on condition that he promised to buy all the books Aby wanted in perpetuity. He had built up an enormous book collection right from his twenties, but, inspired by studies in Renaissance painting in Florence and Strasbourg, wanted to have a library that went outside traditional disciplines and categories. He called the library his ‘Denkraum’ (thinking space) and considered it a ‘problem library’ rather than a collection of books, where the differences between a dedication to knowledge and aesthetic output are erased.
In Warburg’s problem library, sense arises from compatibility. Throughout his life, Warburg kept his library alive by organising and constantly rearranging the collection on the principle of ‘the good neighbours rule’: the idea that books arranged by their titles – where every single work is complemented by its neighbours on the shelf – open pathways into the fundamental strengths in the mind and history of mankind.
Bolin tells CJR he isn’t some kind of internet-hating Luddite determined to show how evil technology is. In fact, he’s a computer programmer by day, one with no real background in media or publishing literary magazines. So why did he decide to create one that makes such a dramatic point about the need to disconnect?
“I created it in part because I think it’s funny to use irony in that kind of way—to have a piece of the internet that forces you to leave the internet,” he says. “To create something new that functions as commentary but is also participatory, in that it forces you to participate by disconnecting. I liked that idea.”
Much of Karl Marx's early writings are primarily concerned with the state of the human soul under capitalism: with the alienation of working not for yourself, but for an employer who appropriates the value of your work; with the fetishism of commodities: the investment of inanimate objects with transcendent properties beyond their usefulness; with the system of lies and delusions by which capitalism understands and justifies itself (…)
Additionally, cameramen of the era insisted that their cranking technique was exactly 16 fps, but modern examination of the films shows this to be in error, that they often cranked faster. Unless carefully shown at their intended speeds silent films can appear unnaturally fast or slow. However, some scenes were intentionally undercranked during shooting to accelerate the action—particularly for comedies and action films.
[“The Runaway Species”, by Anthony Brandt and David Eagleman, a composer and a neuroscientist,] makes a single argument, clearly and thoroughly: creativity is never the creation of something from nothing. Instead, consciously or not, people refashion things. They do this for the most part in three ways: by bending, breaking and blending. Bending involves taking something and altering a property. Breaking involves taking a whole apart and assembling something new from the fragments. And blending involves mixing multiple sources together in new ways.