“What if we tried to make a different kind of computer, one that didn’t demand your attention, that didn’t try to absorb you in interaction, that merely displayed beautiful things from the Internet?” - This Kickstarter darling reached its goal within 30 minutes. Here’s how it will change the art world.
Newspapers. Soda cans. Pizza boxes. Everyone’s trash looks different but what these artful portraits show is that we all have something in common: We produce a lot of it.
On Tuesday, a bonsai tree boldly went where no bonsai tree has gone before.
Azuma Makoto, a 38-year-old artist based in Tokyo, launched two botanical arrangements into orbit: “Shiki 1,” a Japanese white pine bonsai tree suspended from a metal frame, and an untitled arrangement of orchids, lilies, hydrangeas, and irises.
Founded and curated by Amsterdam-based writer Bas Van de Poel, the Computer Virus Catalog collects the weirdest viruses from the annals of computer history, and visualizes them as art. By pairing a computer virus with a graphic designer, Van de Poel’s project is a wonderful tribute to the history of chaos, computers and code.
It’s time for House Delaware to embrace their new official motto, “We’re in Delaware”—at the edge of a blade, if they must.
Megumi Igarashi loves pussy.
More precisely, the 42-year-old designer loves her own pussy. Constructed from molds of Igarashi’s genitalia, the artist’s body of work includes a vagina lampshade, a vagina kayak, vagina smartphone cases, vagina dioramas, vagina toys, and more. But the Tokyo police don’t share Igarashi’s predilections, at least, not in an official capacity.
It’s visual whiplash. The soft lines and gentle colors lure you in, then—pow!—the subject matter hits you with unexpected force.
You spend all day thinking about innovating in your career. How about applying that focus to everything else?
Can Jim Mason solve the developing world’s power problems with a temperamental machine that runs on garbage?
It is a challenge just to find the door to All Power Labs, an upstart alternative-energy concern in the industrial wastelands of far west Berkeley, California, and it’s not unusual for visitors to circle the block several times before realizing that the only way in is through a rolling gate with a small sign. Beyond that is what appears to be a scrap yard filled with old shipping containers and rusty hunks of metal. Welding torches spark and flare; walnut fragments litter the ground. And all around are iterations of APL’s main product, the Power Pallet, a contraption consisting of a large silver barrel on top of various other metal parts, all connected with pipes and hoses. It looks like something you’d use to cook meth. In reality, the Power Pallet is a small refinery, which converts biomass (nutshells, wood chips, corncobs) to hydrogen-rich gas, attached to a four-cylinder engine, which burns the gas to generate electricity. The weirdest part: It is, potentially, the most important and transformative energy product that no one has heard of.
"I tried to cast a wide net with this first batch—not just culturally and racially diverse, but pulling from history, fiction, and myth," Porath says. "Some are badass, some sociopathic, and some are just bizarre. The idea can be an umbrella for a lot of stories, and I wanted to see which ones people would react to."
… and did we mention that there are also lasers?
Making sure we live in a healthy world is a collective action problem. It doesn’t really work unless everyone—or at least a significant majority of countries, industries, and consumers—starts making radical changes in behavior. If that doesn’t work, one student designer envisions a future in which we resort to personal air quality drones.
Planned for the big United Nations climate conference in Paris next year, Naziha Mestaoui’s “forests of light” show is really two light shows in one. The first is the public show on the buildings and monuments, which will be made up of trees generated in 3-D. The second is the image of the show on mobile phones, augmented with “unique virtual trees” attuned to each viewer’s heartbeat.
"We live in sad times when material things, expensive or not, have become more important then our own lives," the photographer says. "I started feeling the need to capture that exact moment—the moment of the impact. I wanted to do it ironically, and play down the seriousness. I enjoy the idea of people becoming victims of their own obsessive and compulsive neurosis, but there had to be a comical side to tragedy. If laughter leads to only one moment of thoughtfulness I will have accomplished my mission."