pixel this

I love when two completely divergent signals from the universe converge and make a connection in front of my very own eyes. The topic of the day is: Pixelation. Within in 48 hours (albiet several days ago at this point. I'm a confessed latent blogger), I discovered both Anti-Advertising Agency's culture jamming project, Pixelator, and Montage-a-Google, courtesy blog.FABRICA.

Now I open up the forum to you, dear reader: convergence or not? What, if any, is the connection between the two? Why are completely separate minds thinking alike?

Spoiler Alert: Read on only if you want to know the author's opinion. Since quantifications such as "digital," "megapixel" and "resolution" have crept into our laymen's vocabulary, and since virtually every camera is now a camera phone, artists and thinking creative sorts have been toying with the aesthetic qualities of pixelation. Grainy, blurry, early video game-esque, and generally distasteful, blow-up that low-res image to the point that the original form is flattened and obscured, and what you get is pleasing, patterned squares, seemingly random, but with an inherent connection to the next. A la geometric, modernist art of the early-mid twentieth century. (I might do some research and throw in a couple of links, but I'm essentially referring to the movement that, given a protractor, a ruler, and some shades of paint, the intial response is "I could do that!")

starring

I have a soft spot in my heart for typography. We can "feel the difference when sommething is set in one typeface," rather an another, says says Ina Saltz, a professor in Electronic Design and Multimedia at City College NYC. "There's a visual distinction that sends a visual message." Saltz was one of more than a dozen interviews that I spent more than a month on (just prior to starting this blog), for a story exploring the rising trend of typographical/word tattoos. I interviewed several "words" in Shellly Jackson's Skin project, a typeface designer in Las Vegas whose whole torso is covered in Latin tattoos in antique typefaces, Saltz, editor of Body Type, the first photographic book of word/typographic tattoos, among others.
So I was thrilled to read unBeige's blog report on the world premiere of the feature-length documentary film, Helvetica, held at SXSW last week. The film "just might be the best history of graphic design we've ever seen," reports unBeige. Helvetica, that [in]famous font, turns 50 this year.

Festival organizers had to turn away more than 150 people at the SXSW premiere. I think that's going to be the precident as the film begins touring the international film fest circut. It's coming to New York for a screening at the New School on April 6, and guess what? Yep, sold out. The film's website has the complete—and oft updated— tour schedule. In the meantime, I'm gonna try to get into the screening, guerrila-style.

TB's ANTM [trademark symbol] in the SFV

The realization that the second episode, cleverly named "the girl who went to prom", of the new cycle [why cycle and not season, I've never figured out] of Tyra Banks' America's Next Top Model was filmed at Birmingham High School in Van Nuys--the alma matter of several very close friends of mine--inspired a flurry of internet searches on models, the San Fernando Valley, America's Next Top Model, and so on. Here are a handful of pleasing, albiet quick, reads on Birmingham High's fifteen minutes:

Blog entry on said episode from Media Bistro's Fishbowl LA blog

Find the images from the on-site photo shoot, in all their pop-up window glory on this Phoenix (?!) newspaper blog

Or, find the images from the on-site photo shoot here, at the show's ubiquitous site,although the PHX blog is more fun

An oldie but goodie, faux Tyra Mail, courtesy McSweeny's

ANOTHER model show! NYT on The Agency

fierce!

on the mic

I've long said that if I were ever going to karaoke, it would have to be a hip-hop song. [Or something by Sublime. For every rule there is that exception.] Why? Because it's less singing and more akin to fast-paced, badass spoken word. Sort of. This disclaimer has gotten me off the hook among my karaoke-ing friends, because how often are songbooks updated? Never. Who sings anything newer than 1995? No one.
Enter hip-hop karaoke. It's a monthly gig at the Knitting Factory downtown, that's been turning over the mic to hip-hop fans of all stripes for a couple of years now. It's a fantastic scene, entertaining and open-minded, as in, you don't have to ooze hip-hop flava or attitude to be embraced by the audience. Your heart has to be in it, and the rest is what it is. Let me put it this way, the highlight of the night was three 17-year-old boys, super nerdy and gawky in that mid-adolescent way—the cherub-faced Asian kid wearing the Abercrombie hoodie was at least a foot shorter than his two friends—belting out Biz Markie's "Just a Friend." The song came out in 1989, meaning that these boys were, at best, conceived. I relate—I am anything but the picture of a hip-hop fan, and yet there I was, growing up in a small swath of land between suburbia and a military base and I was constantly adjusting the tuner on my boombox to try and get reception of Power 106 FM, an L.A. based hip-hop radio station based almost 100 miles away. It was occasionally interrupted by the local police scanner, but otherwise, the signal was strong, if you could get the dial just... so.
So, what song would I do/might be doing under the courage of a couple of drinks? It would have to be Salt n' Peppa's "Shoop." But I need a Salt. Or Peppa. Any volunteers?

farmer's tans...

Thanks to Paper Magazine's esteemed co-editor-in-chief, Kim Hastreiter, for spotting what was clearly the best photo-op of Milan's recent fashion week. Image courtesy Hastreiter's blog column, Fashion Schmashion. Check it out.

the little Bush that could

Fashion Week Daily reports that Laura Bush, neice to Señor Presidente, has "an organic concept of lifestyle branding" in the works. Presently, though, she's focused on the "Feed the Children of the World" burlap shoulder bags campaig coming to amazon.com near you on April 1. Good Magazine did a nice little spotlight on the "Feed" bags in December.

you let sublet?

I've been traipsing about with The Sublet Experiment theater crew a lot in the last week. The gig is this: Kindly friends and family have lent the group their living spaces to put on a theater show in their apartment/loft. Relinquish keys, anxieties, etc. Leave while anywhere between a 12 and 30 strangers arrive at your apartment for the show, except on the night(s) you stay to watch yourself. And in that case, pretend you don't live there, prepare to be surprised when the actors drink from your glasses, brush their teeth in your bathroom sink, etc., and restrain from jumping to answer the front door buzzer when it rings.

One of the oddest aspects of the experience is that it really feels like an intimate gathering, a dinner party or a night of charades, rather than public theater. Afterwards, the guests stand around and chat in small groups, gathering coats, scarves and gloves. A cluster of empty beer bottles sits on the kitchen counter, ready to be taken to the recyling crate that sits on the landing outside the door. The home stereo plays softly, and the water runs steadily as someone washes a few dirty glasses—props, and, I wonder, possibly a remnant dish from the host? Would you leave a dirty dish(es) in your sink if the show was coming over?

Next up, after wandering nomadically for nearly six months, changing venues every week, playwright Ethan Youngerman and director Michelle Tatenbaum have found an as-of-yet-undisclosed, semi-stationary venue for The Sublet Experiment for the month of March. After March, who knows? The natives may get restless...