[“Seven Swans Reimagined” is pretty uneven, like most tribute albums. But I’m loving DM Stith’s interpretation of Sufjan Stevens. -egg]
[“Seven Swans Reimagined” is pretty uneven, like most tribute albums. But I’m loving DM Stith’s interpretation of Sufjan Stevens. -egg]
[Using drones to find ways of farming better. Pretty cool :). -egg]
Drones — a Soybean Grower’s Best Friend — aerial acuity — Medium
Here’s an enjoyable short story from the heady, optimistic early days of The Capital-S-Singularity in sci fi:
[Very cool, although I think it could be made even better with freer and more organic movement. -egg]
Babel Tower is the latest artwork by Shirin Abedinirad (previously) who has become known for her outdoor mirror installations designed to reflect landscapes and elements of architecture. This newest piece, a collaboration with interaction designer Gugo Torelli, adds a kinetic component to a stair-stepped ziggurat that simultaneously reflects elements of the sky, horizon, and ground while slowly rotating 360 degrees. She shares about the piece:
Babel Tower is an interactive installation that recontextualizes the spiritual architecture of the Babel Tower with modern materials, creating a union between ancient history and our present world; it is combing the past, present and offering a union for future. The top view of installation by reflecting the sky is connecting it to the earth, symbolizing the aim of Babel tower to reach for the heaven; The structural use of mirrors, serve as a reflective vessel for light, an integral feature of paradise.
You can see more views of the sculpture on her website, and watch a video of the piece in motion down below. (via Colossal Submissions)
Source: Babel Tower: A Kinetic Mirrored Ziggurat Reflects the Surrounding Iranian Landscape | Colossal
[This is probably the most effective use I’ve ever seen of the sort of 3d surface charts I was doing with sift.space. NYT rocking datavis as usual. -egg]
A 3-D View of a Chart That Predicts The Economic Future: The Yield Curve – The New York Times
[If you’re having trouble seeing it, here’s a much bigger version of the image. -egg]
I kept thinking it had something to do with the pigeon.
Maybe this has happened to you.
Locked out of your car or home, you pull out your phone and type “locksmith” into Google. Up pops a list of names, the most promising of which appear beneath the paid ads, in space reserved for local service companies.
You might assume that the search engine’s algorithm has instantly sifted through the possibilities and presented those that are near you and that have earned good customer reviews. Some listings will certainly fit that description. But odds are good that your results include locksmiths that are not locksmiths at all.
They are call centers — often out of state, sometimes in a different country — that use a high-tech ruse to trick Google into presenting them as physical stores in your neighborhood. These operations, known as lead generators, or lead gens for short, keep a group of poorly trained subcontractors on call. After your details are forwarded, usually via text, one of those subcontractors jumps in a car and heads to your vehicle or home. That is when the trouble starts.
The goal of lead gens is to wrest as much money as possible from every customer, according to lawsuits. The typical approach is for a phone representative to offer an estimate in the range of $35 to $90. On site, the subcontractor demands three or four times that sum, often claiming that the work was more complicated than expected. Most consumers simply blanch and pay up, in part because they are eager to get into their homes or cars.
By day, Virgina-based glass artist Kiva Ford (previously) fabricates one-of-a-kind glass instruments designed for special applications in scientific laboratories. By night, he retires to his home art studio where he utilizes his vast skillset to create curious glass vessels, miniatures, goblets, and other unusual creations working entirely by hand. Ford says his artistic practice is heavily inspired by his interests in mythology, history, and science.
Ford’s artistic observations of the natural world have begun to merge directly with his scientific glassblowing abilities in a number of new hybrid pieces. In Metamorphosis andMetamorphosis II, we see the sequence of a caterpillar morphing into a butterfly and an egg turning into a frog, all seamlessly encapsulated by handmade glass instruments, evoking the mystery of a ship in a bottle.
You can follow more of Ford’s work on Instagram and he sells hundreds of glass objects—mostly miniatures—through his Etsy shop. (via Hi-Fructose)
[Other than liking a few of the bands, I had almost no idea of any of this history or subgenre. Great article on twee/indiepop. -egg]
Indie pop is not just “indie” that is “pop.” Not too many people realize this, or really care either way. But you can be sure indie pop’s fans know it. They have their own names for themselves (popkids, popgeeks) and for the music they listen to (p!o!p, twee, anorak, C-86). They have their own canon of legendary bands (Tiger Trap, Talulah Gosh, Rocketship) and legendary labels (Sarah, Bus Stop, Summershine). They have their own pop stars, with who they’re mostly on a first-name basis: Stephen and Aggi, Cathy and Amelia, Jen and Rose, Bret and Heather and Calvin. They’ve had their own zines (Chickfactor), websites (twee.net), mailing lists (the Indie pop List), aesthetics (like being TWEE AS FUCK), festivals (the International Pop Underground), iconography (hand drawings of kittens), fashion accessories (barrettes, cardigans, t-shirts with kittens on them, and t-shirts reading TWEE AS FUCK), and in-jokes (Tullycraft songs and the aforementioned TWEE AS FUCK)– in short, their own culture. They’re some of the only people in the world who remember that Kurt Cobain used to kind of be one of them, and they’ve been wildly generous about the moments where one of their private enthusiasms– like, say, Belle and Sebastian– bubbles up into the wider world of indie music.
As of the mid-1990s, there were a hell of a lot of kids like this in America: Happy pop geeks in love with all things pretty, listening to seven-inch singles released on tiny labels, writing songs about crushes, and taking a good deal of pride in the fact that everyone else found their music disgustingly cute and amateurish and girly. This is the story of how they got there– a partial history of the indie pop project, and a beginner’s guide to what it meant.