mission statement

trying to figure out how to describe my work… any ideas, feedback, which one responds to you?

KEY POINTS:

Tool making
Prototyping
Diversity
See things happen

1
I live to see things happen. To see algorithms unfold, strangers talk, cities be walked in, thoughts come to life. I live to see how many different ways can things come alive in.

This often and mostly means creating tools, places, spaces for others to then reappropriate, adapt, transform. There is nothing more magical than to be part of such an organic process of creation.

2
Poking at the unknown is a sensitive issue. But a fun one. No debate there.

Uncertainties, doubts, fears will often team up to get in the way of our aspirations. Design has allowed me to build tools and develop habits for myself and others to take the edge off of the process of inquiry and to make it more actionable: prototyping, role playing, generative research.
I live to see things happen, come to life, especially if it brings a refreshing twist on things and lemons.

3
Objects of our everyday deserve to have a life of their own. To mingle with one another, interact, and transform. That’s how it is with nature why not the humans’ contribution to this world? Thoughts are much better at traveling, transforming, why not objects?

My process focuses on asking such questions using ambiguous, often inconsequential objects, getting people to make together and generative design research. In each of those I aim to provide tools for myself and others to challenge our understanding of our surroundings.

Who better than a mirror-mirror on the wall to give us a reality check?

4
Some days I sit at my desk and politely ask for it to come alive. I tickle it, growl at it but it’s never quite responded to my invitation. I’m sure one day it will, in the mean time I strive to pull reality one step closer to my daydreams. Objects are meant to mingle amongst themselves, surprise us, help us, challenge us and live a life of their own. I’d like to help them.

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A short essay on 3D Printing

hugo:

good counter point to 3D printing revolution, asking for a little extra common sense and awraness

Originally posted on hellofosta:

3d rabbits

In order to produce anything, you need three elements: an idea, the means to make the idea, and the money to pay all concerned. For these reasons it comes as no surprise that the entrepreneurial explosion of the early 2000′s has focussed on software. Once the idea is solidified, the manufacturing and shipping of a software product, whilst not exactly simple is at least attainable by a small number of people with basic equipment and minimal outlay. In the world of object production the idea is the least of your worries. Atoms, as it has been said many times before, are difficult to wrangle, the engineering infrastructure, commitment level and financial outlay is significant. Even for a tiny plastic widget the initial tooling can run into many thousands of dollars. There’s a change afoot in the world of atom wrangling however, and it’s name is 3D printing.

I saw my first…

View original 3,623 more words

Urban design (tentative) manifesto

We live in a defined and regularly re-defined urban landscape.

 

It’s definition comes from a few people’s interpretation of space and their understanding of a greater population’s constantly evolving needs and desires, and, their ability to translate those very desires into functional structures willing to cohabit. The structures are introduced into the urban fabric using blueprints that address how they work as “organisms” within the existing ecosystem of pre-existing buildings, what they should look like and what they are meant to enable, in other words how they should be used.

This process leaves little room for appropriation, interpretation and multiplicity.

Since these structures are most of the times our housing situations, our modes of transportation, our workplaces and the third place: cinemas, coffee shops, playgrounds, barber shops, it does, in many ways, make sense to standardise the way such structures should function and often privatise the real-estate dedicated to them, saddly it often seems to alienate the people that live and work in them.

Through the mis-use of standardisation and privatisation of spaces, a relatively feudal mindset of a lord’s kingdom, his rule and his singular vision are revived.

Of course, the streamlining of a structure’s purpose and its implementation can benefit the optimization of the service provided there, however, when blown out out scale it merely kills the life and livelihood of that area. The livelyhood of a given area can be defined as the pleasure one might find in living/being in a given spot.

It is that notion of scale that lives in a peoples’ relationship to an existing system of rules that can be easily re-assesed through simple, anodine, playful interventions as they too offer new rules that come and complement the existing ones.

Hence the crucialness of becoming aware of those rules, how they influence our everyday and how to best adapt them concsiously or inconcsiously to our needs using more maliable rules that directly reflect our quotidian activities, much like throwing that space into a sandbox and seeing how it might be transformed.

 

1// CASUAL ENCOUNTERS This game provides a mean of indicating that its users (self-proclaimed players) are will to speak and meet others aware of the code. This can take place in the metro, in the street, anywhere usually crowded as this activity re-emphasises a notion of individuality for those interested in playing and surpassing the cammouflage of the crowd.

2// FLUXUS-ING THE STATE This game would call for a a re-enactment of codes of duty: how would others (citizens) interpret the codes of conduct and mission statements of government officials and infrastructures. This will shed light on the varrying levels of interpretations and implementations of government infrastructures.

 

it seems there are a lot of things we don’t plan for. graduating was one of those. I cot into college trusting a system without fully realizing how much it was costing me, my parents or my peers. and now I am graduating. tomorrow I start my final term after doing an extra year of what might be considered “hanging out” around campus. in those five (meant to be four) years, I meant a million people and it feels I was just about as many, every two months my outlook on something seems to take a drastic change, enough for me to look back at… a week ago and feel as if I were patronizingly nodding as a teenager fumbles with life. Pimples and all.

Tomorrow is the last deck handed. Five classes in which I will be expected to “find” myself. half of which will address how to be a genuine, powerful, conscious amendment to this world and the world of design. Something that now seems like a joke when two months ago I wasn’t sure I was worth it…

When did school become about defining yourself when you have explored nothing? When did affirmation outrun question? When? It feels like the sense of professionalism my school wishes to embed us with (as unnatural as it sounds) is a mere joke. a 45000 dollars hoax per year.

Then again I may be wrong.

rien ne vaut un lego. rien.

l’absolut est absurde et pourtant. Seems my childhood was woven in absolutes. Unaware but drifting INTO a market mentality I’d flow from Lego to Lego. Though each seemed to me a world of its own only fused by my hand; I had not yet realized they were all tied together in product lines and brand identities. Set after set, box after box, they were packaged realities, so little ambiguity other than the reach of my ingenuity. The were tailor-made or seemed to be. How did I ever think I’d had grown out of them.

After eight years I finally bought a new set. Nothing to regret. It sat in my living room idle. Eying at me, begging for me to fondle, its bricks its tricks. but eight years. Eight years is a long time to numb eagerness. One thing is to buy, another to have, and yet another is to BE having, all too often mistaken for behaving.

That I did, for two weeks I behaved, conditioned: there was work to do, to be done. The question, remains, taunting, the Lego eyeing. So I surrendered, fuck id. almighty id.

In a second, I found myself crouched on the floor, hypnotized by the schemes, rivet-ized by the teams, yellows and blues, blacks and reds dressed in cues. I sat there until friends came over. Blindly giving my minutes and hours to the set. No better way to reset.

When the friends left I played some more. In the morning I set an alarm, I had things to do, but it was necessary for me to start the day fiddling with the Legos. In the end I even woke up before the alarm… Hadn’t done that since I was ten… Wake up earlier than required to play Legos…

Eight years is a while. You have time to see things differently many times. As I followed the instructions on the page, the indications guiding me towards the “proper assembly,” I couldn’t help but to marvel in front of the clever color-coding, the clarity and efficiency of the wordless instructions and the magic of the pieces’ perfect tolerances.

Eight years later it was the first time in a really long time where I felt looked out for. There is a beauty to actively witnessing something that WORKS, without imposing itself on you. Any second I could’ve stopped, made something else. However, it was like a stroll through ones carefully crafted microcosm, where parts of the puzzle respect each other, absorb and absolve one another, I could see all of a sudden where my thirst for “perfection” had had time to thrive. Legos make the world and its humans seem deceivingly fixable. I honestly believe there is no such thing as FIXING society but I now see why I held on to such a belief for so long: it’s reassuring.

Surprisingly, the second I finished the set, I noticed I profound difference with how I would’ve reacted eight years ago: I wanted to give the set (a crane) a personality… Make it speak, or at least grant it a for of expression, perhaps to pull it out of the world of legos into that of unfixable real-life.

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words

seems like we should all have a couple of words we hold dear, we hold sacred, we protect. today so many branding efforts and ad campaigns use “word from the everyday of the ‘people’ ” that they all lose meaning. nothing new indeed, commodification has been around for a while now but it seems a simple form of passive resistance would be to, thus, chose several words that we protect from generalization, that we try to use only when MOST necessary.

mine would be:

play, home, disruptive.

these three i hold dear, and i hear being overused far too much:

“playful design” “kid’s like to play” “serious play”

“home coffee” (where the “baristas”, complete strangers, will tell you “welcome home!”)

“disruptive innovation” “disruptive product” “disruptive idea”

 

the first one to me is meant to be used a lot, but not in a commercial context WHATSOEVER.

the second should never be part of an ad or branding its application should be immense: a shelter, a land, a room, an idea, a group of people can all be homes and it’s important to reserve a word for them

the third one is only to be used in hind sight, in retrospect, “2010 was a disruptive year”, “the internet wasn’t that disruptive”

Scream in the jello

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two days of cries. different ones. screams of pain and joy. tearing sounds, sounding tears. thrusts, ironically erotic, pathetically dramatic.

1.
throat blown, irritating ideals rip through his flesh. spasms. cries. he rips the air, grasping at things as his lungs and heart puke out his rage. But no one knows where it begins or ends. we are all caught in rapids, begging for respite. from his might. from his plight. fight. fight. we are snorkelers caught in a tsunami of frustration, on a bedrock of gadgets.

as tsunamis do, he will quiet down. rest, it’s soothing and beautiful, torturing also to remember him convulsing two minutes ago. such pain. such maddening pain. until his breathing picks up, his mandibule slaloms, the avalanche is upon us. break, let me break something! FUCK! he cries FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!.

I never saw toys as weapons. I never saw shelves, wheels, tables, vacuum cleaners, as projectiles, then again I had never seen socks dipped in blood either.

It was a night of anger, transformed into terror. He emotional gag reflex had been punched into action, his dam blown, damn blown.

as time went by, particles of fear and anger accumulated the night sky seemed blurrier, our reflexes less willing, our responses less forgiving. the terror had subverted the anger, the outburst turned to “inburst”. what seemed to once be letting go became letting in, letting around, letting into, letting through, caged.

2.
oh my god
she too screamed, but of (forced?) joy. i hadn’t heard (from) her in months. and i wasn’t meant to. the joy was for a friend. another one. the cry crashed into the silence. as a wall might onto a room of jello, unthreatening, “but still.” still. still in silence, still in my silence. so far from the quakes of the previous day. and yet in those cries came similar struggles, thrusts, ironically erotic, pathetically dramatic.

but beautifully chilling none the less. both of them.