I have a strange fascination with photos of the ocean, in disorienting views, often with people doing disorienting things. Spatial disorientation is an interesting condition, when you can't perceive up versus down. When a sky is mistaken for an ocean. An even more interesting principle is the horizon line. When two planes of space "intersect". Or when people thought the world just ended at the horizon, because the Earth was flat. So when you combine two confounding things: the Earth looks flat, and the sky looks like the ocean, you get one great mess. And no matter how many ways you flip the ocean sideways or flip a person sideways in a normally oriented ocean, it is always incredibly perplexing. But maybe that's the beauty of them—their ability to confuse people in a very profound way.



1. via blacksheep
2. and of Philippe Ramette

This is a website. For a think tank in Singapore.
Anonymous Pte Ltd.
Why would a website ever need images?
Just kidding. But an all type website works well in this case.

Julie Digs posts these great fashion + syntax/inspiration pairings.
Things always make more sense in relation to something else.

Tree of Codes by Jonathan Safran Foer.
The next book on my reading list
(for when I'll actually have time).
Foer took his favorite book, Bruno Schulz's The Street of Crocodiles, and cut out/deleted words to form a new narrative. Each page is die-cut. A perfect example of how form and content are completely married, with one removed the other would fall apart. Rejected by almost all printers it was proposed to, because it was "impossible to make", it was taken on by Visual Editions.

Ink experiments I did for a book project to show the progression of wrestling as a sport—in it's expressionist, exaggerative nature as two opponents mingle, intertwine, float, drop, rise (and repeat). These photos, and the idea were edited out, but it was fun to experiment with ink and different metaphors for wrestling.

A House as a Canvas:

When I lived in the Bay Area, I would drive by this house in Oakland, California once a week for over a year. Over that year it went through various color variations: from white, to a white with splotchy blue patches (reminiscent of the sky), to other blues, to green and yellow combinations. When I moved away, it still hadn't settled into an aesthetic. I wish I had documented it from the beginning—it just took me so long to realize what was going on. The photographs above are taken within a months interval. Sometimes the color would change every week, sometimes it would be more than a month. I was always curious if the owners were slowly (over a years time) deciding on an exterior color for their home, or whether they were just doing color experiments with their house as a canvas. Whatever the case, it was interesting to see the house take on different forms through color.

I've been a long time fan of Anzfer Farms, a workshop/showroom started by Jonathan Anzalone and Joseph Ferriso, in San Francisco. They source reclaimed and washed up/found materials, and re-purpose them into everyday objects. The woods they use have history—often worn and weathered and shaped through experience. This wood, paired with very industrial and artificial elements (glass, electricity, etc) make for interesting objects.