March 21, 2006
Magnetic Personalities
This morning in a hotel cafe in Amsterdam I overheard a pair of hard core scientists talking shop. The beauty of deep discussion is that you really don't notice anything around you -- I made a note to myself to strive to achieve such focus but ideally with slightly more discretion.
Their discussion was a passionate one about magnets. I figure they were physicists of some sort. Physicists are analogous to architects in the sense that physicists see themselves as the center of the universe of science -- architects have a similar claim to the universe of art and design. I'm glad that I'm neither a physicist nor an architect as it would be simply too much responsibility to bear on a daily basis.
One physicist said to the other, "You see, each magnet has a different personality ...." He referred to the unique magnetic profile and properties of each of his magnets as if they had distinct personalities like people. The other physicist eagerly listened on acknowledgingly. Although sitting three tables away, I could definitely sense their mutual attraction.
MIT Alum Jennifer Jamieson in NY comments, While I was doing my chemistry PhD at MIT, my labmates and I would often joke around about the way we personified our molecules. We would catch each other muttering away to the reaction flasks, sometimes pleading for the atoms to behave ("please! work!"), sometimes giving pep talks ("okay, now let's see what you can do!"), sometimes scolding (insert colorful language). I think we attributed human characteristics to the molecules only because they were so unpredictable... just like people, in a way.
And, the best part to me was that, just as a person will sometimes do something awe-inspiringly random (like an act of kindness)... so too, the chemistry would surprise in wonderful ways, magically yielding beautiful ruby-red crystals.
August 14, 2005
Tel-A-Trip
In the old comic book series The Atom, there was a neat trick that this superhero would use to get around quickly. The Atom would dial the telephone number of the place he wanted to go, and then he'd shrink to "atomic size" and jump into the telephone transceiver. At the speed of a voice call, the Atom managed to instantly zap himself to the other place.
For circumstances that I cannot explain, I myself do not have the power of shrinking myself to such tiny scales and enjoying the power of teleportation. Instead, when I wish to vacate to say Maine, I must engage in automobile-based transportation.
At the hotel at which I stayed, I learned two important lessons about the power of the Internet. First of all, that any picture you might see on the Internet of a potential place you might habitate, is potentially close to one hundred times better than what you will actually get. One could say a similar thing about a hotel's lobby, as in the ultra-trendy-ish hotel I stayed at in Rome last month with an over-designed lobby and contastingly drab, unexceptional rooms that I would have traded for a Motel 6 room any day of the week.
The second lesson I learned about the Internet, was how unresponsive it really is. While sitting in the Maine hotel's outer lobby I chanced upon this device pictured above, which is called a "Tel-A-Travel." You dial a place with the knob on its right, and you are instantly given an optimal route to that place from your current location. Operation is incredibly smooth, and there's no wait time at all to retrieve the information you desire. I felt ... simplicity.
The device appeared to be an antique, but in pristine and operational condition. It even doesn't appear google-able. I offered to buy the shoebox-sized device, but alas the hotel didn't want to part with it. They felt that their customers really find it useful. So I walked away, lamenting the overall quality of the hotel's facility, but respecting the staff's wish to deliver fine customer service. I'll wait for one to appear on ebay I guess.
April 27, 2005
The Power of Light
While the age of digital typography took us by a storm in the late 80's, I had the fortune of being in the backwaters of Japan where computers were something of a taboo. Type was set in the previously high-tech way of shining light through negative stencils of letters on glass plates to be absorbed onto photographic paper. You'd cut out paragraphs from the developed prints of typeset text, and handily paste them to a board with good old rubber cement. "Cut and paste" really meant something back then.
The "power user" of the photo typesetter was Tadashi Morisaki who could easily have a successful comedy show on television as he was always so funny. Because the transfer process was optical in nature, the process of modifying the lens through which the light shined was always an interesting trick. Morisaki would create optically warped type in ways that would make even Photoshop a bit jealous. Those were the days.
At the Mercer Hotel I enjoyed the sort of accidental motion graphic titling that was occuring at the entrance. The gentle swaying of the curtain made the moment come alive. There are people that will become extremely mad when you take a perfectly good piece of type and stretch / contort / shred it so that it is disturbed from its purity in form. And there are some people like Martin Venezky that torture type for a living. The logic behind the "Right to Read"-folks is that one cannot appreciate type when it is no longer type and is instead just incoherent forms. I tend to agree with their logic, especially when I am trying to figure out where I am or where I am to go. Reading is a power that I prefer not to give up. But if I am just there enjoying the day and the moment, I'd prefer for all type to just go away. Let it merge with the splatter of the everyday unintelligible beauty of a city. Interpret the moment without interpretation. Or even easier and with less philosophy, just take off your glasses. That will do the trick. It works for me.
April 25, 2005
Ladies First
Chivalry in Japan is something of a minor art. Tradition demands that a wife walk a few steps behind a husband. In fact the Japanese word for wife is written in Kanji as "inside house." Being the father of four daughters makes you extra-sensitive to these kinds of things. The increasing divorce rate in Japan is indicative of the fact that anti-chivalry is a disadvantageous policy in relationships.
I was born and raised in the United States, yet I grew up in a small business in the International District (read "Chinatown") of Seattle. Thus my cultural upbringing was a combination of a set of Japanese traditions that was rooted in an immigrant community, together with schooling and socialization that was set in the context of the US. I think that this pattern of the immigrant's children growing up in the US is thankfully a common theme here. Often immigrants remember only what is good about where they come from, thus I was instructed as to what was great about Japan (even though when I lived in Japan for six years I realized there were many discrepancies between my father's memory and the reality of Japan).
In spite of my upbringing, I was enamored by the ideas of chivalry early on. Although to date, I've never seen a gentleman throw his coat over a puddle for a lady to walk over. Today such behavior would be considered pathetic. In today's culture, men and women are equal, and thus preferential treatment in either direction is simply not politically correct. Why open the door for a woman when she is of able-bodiedness and can certainly open the door by herself?
Perhaps the bigger question is one of politeness, versus the battle of the sexes. It doesn't hurt to be polite to people around you. That goes for men and women. The Japanese are the masters of politeness with the infinite stating of "sorry" in every placative form. There is a point where politeness can be simply manipulative.
At The Plaza Hotel I was looking for the restroom and was surprised to see the scene depicted in the photograph. On the left is a receded door labeled "Mens Room" and on the right is a palatial step upwards into the double-doored "Ladies Room." As I am known to be subceptible to the quiet glow within spaces like a fly, I drifted closer towards the space on the right but quickly veered back to my original destination when I envisioned myself being dragged out of the premises by hotel security.
There is nothing more powerful in the visual vocabulary of an artist than the power of establishing contrast. Anything big and fat appears bigger and fatter when placed next to something flaccid and skinny; anything bright and red looks brighter and redder when placed next to a drab and dark blue. Thus the contrast between the Mens Room and Ladies Room at The Plaza Hotel reaches epic proportions in this architectural statement that doubles as a political statement of old. As a public art installation, it achieves an unintended greatness that belies most of our synthetic and natural landscape. Nothing could be appreciated in a simpler way than these gilded restrooms of New York City. I hope you have a chance to visit them.
Ole Kristensen in Denmark writes, "Try spending a little time at David Gauntlett’s theoretical funhouse where equality meets complementary. There’s lego sets and trading cards for the ambitious theoretician." I'm certainly going to order my set today.
April 22, 2005
Follow the Light
To continue my collection of dark and dingy hotel hallways, I stayed at the Maritime Hotel with its characteristic round windows. The hotel is on the piers of New York City and is reminiscent of a seafaring vessel. I believe it is a hotel that has been redone out of some older less chic hotel infrastructure, thus the rooms are somewhat teeny tiny and kind of spooky.
Circular windows are something of an oddity, and thus results in the particularly captivating nature of the hallway. When one thinks of why boats have round windows, I would imagine it is because they are easier to create tight seals around the edges of a circle (versus a rectangle). I guess that would explain why airplane windows are also rounded (wouldn't want all the oxygen and pressure to escape).
A circle in the physical world is truly extravagant. It is usually cut out of some larger element like a rectangle. The problem of course is that you end up with waste. If you are of the type that cannot stand the crust of bread and tear out all the crust just to eat the center, you are a person that loves circles I would guess. I don't particularly love circles, and thus you can tell what kind of bread eater I really am. This discussion is making me hungry. Time for a snack.
The talented young architect Mateo Paiva in New York writes, "Knowing your pleasure for the elementary pixel, I thought it was funny you chose this hotel with a 'pixelated' facade." Actually I chose it just based upon price—I'm frugal.
April 20, 2005
Metallic Glue
Recently I visited the University of Texas at Austin campus to give a lecture. Austin is the home of one of my all time favorite hotels: the Hotel San José . It is hard to explain this hotel in simple words. The rooms are spartan and it's right on a main street so it is quite noisy. Originally the San José was a motel and it probably wasn't at all chic like the way it is today. The room rates are extremely reasonable to stay at such a special place. There's nothing like it.
While waiting to check in, I noted a window by the reception desk. The simple eye and hook latch is a device that leaped out to me in all of its simple glory. I immediately envisioned some Wild West settler from a past century that had an 'aha' moment which fueled this this primitive mode of homeland security. As a child, we had a door in my house with this latch but in a modern house you don't see such a device so often.
The latch reveals its functionality through its design. The interface is its own function. Furthermore, it is of a level of simplicity that you could imagine making yourself. The cognitive distance to making, understanding, and operating the device is minimal. One could always go to a hardware store to marvel at this latch, but I would recommend visiting the San José instead.