500 Days of Summer: In Review

So, recently, I saw the film '(500) Days of Summer.’ It was an honest tale of expectations, perceptions, love and life. However, one facet, among the particulars, that gave the film tremendous depth was the level of detail given to the appreciation of the subtle, captivating urban spaces that remain unspoken in daily interactions. I think the film was largely about the details – the details of relationships, the details of a woman, and the details of everyday life. The film really takes the time to focus, in a very intimate way, on subtleties that a good author will walk through with you – that you would not have noticed otherwise. The details really give this film a rich quality that you can lose yourself in. And, as Mies would say, ‘God is in the details.’

In speaking about the details, I loved all of them – the music choices, the costumes, locations, casting, coloration, editing, cinematography – it was all marvelous. It is pure elation. It bathes in misery. It is honest and heartbreaking. It allows a series of opinions on love. The sequences are all individually crafted and edited in a way that takes advantage of the often-overlooked fact that this is a film. It could be a novel, a short story, a poem, but it is not – it is a film and ‘500 Days’ should be a film; it takes advantage of the medium to tell the story.

The main character, Tom, played by Joseph Gordon Levitt, is a greeting card writer and an aspiring architect. He is a romantic and a head-case, however I think this enables him to find beauty creeping up between the cracks in the sidewalk that most would walk right over. Los Angeles becomes a place in the film, with the help of carefully chosen locations, a genius dance sequence, a park bench and actual Richard Neutra sketches, the film really gives you a sense of place.

In addition to capturing ‘place,’ Gordon-Levitt’s character actually has something to say about place, architecture, and urban design. While the commentary is a little brief and understated at times, he finds beauty in an overlook that looks into a downtown flooded with one too many parking lots. He discusses what he sees though - how there is potential and a subtle captivation in the view to a city. He actually takes the time to voice what he thinks of art, architecture and the city – something very rare in film.

Similarly, there are two sequences in the film where Tom takes time to notice the details of Summer (hair, smile, knees etc.). These sequences are something memorable not because Tom merely mentions them, but that each of her details is totally open to interpretation, as a city is – it could be a cute haircut or a stupid 60’s throwback – it could be an intimate view of a city or an ugly view plagued by too much parking. In other words, perception becomes a choice – it is not forced. The film has an acute understanding of the meaning that we attach to places and to people – and that those meanings run much deeper than physical appearance.

I think it is easy to take a critical position and dismiss a city or a view because of what it lacks - one too many parking garages, way too much asphalt, not enough density, and so on. What Tom navigates well, is the ability to resist the modernist urge to write away history and get lost in what something could be. I don’t think Tom would be one to theorize about a new ‘ideal’ type of urban environment or way of life, rather, he represents an embrace of the ordinary along with the hopes of what could be.

Additionally, here is a music video done by some of the same cast and crew.
Continue

absolut rip-off

Watch the new Absolut Vodka commerical.

Notice any similarities?

(note: the picture is one of the projects featured in Stefan Sagmeister's latest book: Things I have learned in my life so far)

(note 2: I'm switching to Grey Goose.)

Continue

recess time, kids.

let's not take ourselves too seriously. let's get posting. Continue

Blanche Devereaux toga returns on the cover of my portfolio.

Continue

Today's Special Is So America

Home Shopping anchors are sometimes fiercely good at their jobs, usually creepy (see above), and always so America. The Paris Hiltons of daytime tv, some like David Venable achieve viral fame for shear awkwardness. Dylan and I are working on a celebration of this obsession for the b-side of the scrap cover. Scraps for scrap are being pulled from the blog this week! Keep posting or email thestudio@ new material.

Continue

These are Please God Days

It is unbearable how people keep falling in love

with people far away. Not the lovers in different

states with their loins at convenient distances

so the only times are good times half way between here

and Cincinnati - somewhere in Virginia, skiing,

wine tasting - or not skiing and not wine tasting

but making love in hotels with seven-pillowed beds.

I am thinking of lovers who have flown through windows

to know one another better. For whom the fire is not

cleansing or warm, but cracks like the links of a metal

chain around their ankles, wrists, throats.

There is no perfect faith, she says, don't blame me.

When she says sacrifice is something she understands,

she means there is no God of courage. He tells her he is crumbling.

He keeps his resentment in his front pocket, fingering it

like a buckeye. Sometimes he holds it in the side of his cheek -

a damp apology. They sledge stakes in the yard and in the bed

and throw themselves against imaginary fences, falling

back into each other like wounded dogs trying to escape

the front yard. These are please God days when love is not enough

in the flood. She is languorous in the porcelain tub

when he comes home smelling sad. He takes her wet hand

out of the cloudy water and gently brushes his lips against her

knuckles. He stays there fore a long time, beside the tub

holding her hand. She steps out and stands in front of him.

A puddle forms beneath her naked body. He shudders, has to steady himself.

He can think of nothing better to say so he tells her he loves her.

Think of bad days as long distances, she says. You are a layer

of skin I can't explain. They drive past cornfields and graves

wanting to take back the ugly things they said. They carry

everything with them, words heavy as wood axes, waiting

for a clearing, for some moment they can comprehend, like this one.

Continue

i'm here.

talk about diamond in the rough. netherlands architecture, anyone? 

Syracuse's main talent is being seriously sketchville on one block while competing with the world stage on the next. This building is feirce, and it's not even done yet. This sucker is LEED PLATINUM, bling bling. It's some sort of sustainable research mecca, located a 10 minute drive from my place. Think it will be ok if i just go hang out there? Design work done by Toshiko Mori.

Continue

Spill It

What kind of designer are you...

Fill it out, Repost or email thestudio@supermanicecreamcolletive.com. In prep for superman ice cream COLLECTIVE.com, we need to pick your brain. Short/Long answer, what makes you and your work tick. If you need a refresher on multi-Local terms, catch up here.
Continue

horror show

Here is the DVD cover for the short I'm working on. As of right now, this is for a prop, it will be modified for the actual dvd. I might do another iteration later.

Continue

i'm pulling a temps.

no internet for 2 weeks. baltic sea. don't do anything too collective without me. Continue

all aboard.

here's my IDEAL studio, collective.

it is a mobile (and fittingly multilocal) studio carried on a rickshaw. important features are open-air studios, easy-loading dock and latticework for plants.
Continue

SIC Studio

Studio Assignment 2: everyone design your own studio environment...

Go.


Continue

A Northwest Av.Diagonal Gem.

everytime i run past this particular apartment building, i get an odd feeling Laura Bennett is watching me. probably because she lives in it. [see exterior comparison with her season 3 final collection] that sneaky architectrix.

go take care of your 17 redheaded children.

Continue

german haus

a few pictures as promised...

the first two images are of the house. my room is upstairs, on the right side of the house. it faces the back of the house. the last picture is of my room.

all houses around here look very similar, but not cookie-cutter like american neighborhoods.

Continue

out for a bit

I'm doing one of those things where I don't come to studio for a bit, be back Thursday...

IN OTHER NEWS: Kaitlyn got a short film gig, Dylan is moving to his new Local, Kels is back in the EU, and scrap's september issue is on schedule. Dont' forget to send your mailing info to andrew@supermanicecreamcollective.com. Ciao. 
Continue

Ya falta menos...

In 2 days this adorable family becomes my life for the next month.

Continue

hallo.aufwiedersehen

(hello.goodbye)

now you all know about as much german as i do.

tomorrow i journey to charlotte.new york.stockholm.hanover.hildesheim

here goes nothing...


Continue

Jane Goes to the Beach

Let's call this Jane Austen Goes to the Beach, Part: Too Many. Just a few more print-work things to do and this party's on! 

Invite at the printers now...

1st. There was a bit of Blog Styling

2nd. That whole confusion about what time period the inspiration was reeally coming from. Turns out, this wedding (in general) should feel like a Jane Austen Character ran through the 1800s and picked up some Victorian flair on her way to a weekend beach wedding in 2009. (We're talking a ceremony w/ quilt-covered hay-bale seating, marsh-sunsets and raffia fans)

3rd. The invite is finally finished and printing! Try convincing a broken-record of a employee at the printers that you're OK with NO RAISED FONT! NO TISSUE PAPER INSERTS! NO NO NO. Just Print it, front and back!

Also, the beautiful felt-finished paper should make anyone want to get married. 

Continue

let's recap.

Get it. Join it. Spread it. So easy a baby can do it. .

multi-your passions, inspirations, traits, obsessions, work, skills, fields, etc...

local your networks, cultures, circles, settings, wherever you are at the moment

studio. this blog and its physical manifestations. collaborative/collective projects

Post your multi-locals in images! and go..... .
Continue

magic jar

Continue

Magic Jars

Yesterday, My 2yr old niece (Suzannah, our web designer) pranced through the door screaming "yook! Magic Jars!" In her left hand, a glass jar filled with pom pom-felt balls. In her right hand, a matching jar with more multi-colored pom poms. In my terrible grown-up thinking, I had no idea what Magic Jars were or what magic pom poms held. Upon asking later, I was given their definition.

Magic Jars - n. jars with stuff in them. These jars become magic when you fill them with (insert desire here).

What makes your jars magic? Submit now...illustrated project to come.

Continue

mother mother mother

I have had this beautiful 50s blouse hanging in my closet (which I still need to alter) and it doesn't really go with anything I have now. Surprised? So was I.

The problem was that that the blouse is too short and all of my high-waisted skirts were too contemporary. Solution: The first addition to the mother apparel collection is going to be a high waisted-bubble skirt...because who can't resist those?

I need input on the fabric I choose.

Continue

Bike ride in l'Eixample, anyone?

...because I've got a double bike. We can gawk at Gaudi tracery.


Continue

Jane is a hot mess.

This illustration that was meant to be inspired by Jane Austen, but was really just Victorian scrollwork, has now turned into a Hot Art Nouveau MESS! I'd say help, but it's too late. bah!

Continue

TAGWALL construction, deconstruction

finally, all the timelapses compiled from the TAGWALL project by Virginia and Dylan (with obvious help from numerous collective and noncollective members). the project was an interactive architecture + art project that took place as part of a day-long music festival. a video with updated credits coming soon.

song: Badonkadonkey by Born Ruffians on Warp Records.
Continue

Join the COLLECTIVE's Mailing List

Send your newest mailing address and contact info to >>> andrew@supermanicecreamcollective.com


Continue

an early poem.

for you all.

FUNDACIO JOAN MIRO, MONT JUIC

Painting and poetry are done in the same way you make love; its an exchange of blood, a total embrace—without caution, without any thought of protecting yourself.” – Joan Miro

A homeless man pinched my nipple once on Nou de la Rambla

in front of the supermercat on my way to class, the same store

that the screaming lady with a splinted arm tries to steal candy bars

from everyday, a Voll Damm beer in her good hand, a glassed look

in her black eyes. I didn’t know what to say to the homeless man

and his dirty fingernails coming at me or the woman and her beer

but I wanted to speak in my broken Spanish, if only to say your welcome

for the feel and stop screaming, I’m trying to sleep. He probably would have

turned around and smacked me on the ass, and she’d have sat me down

with a yell and tried to warn me of the next inquisition, braced arm waving defiantly over her head. Dylan and I could hear her now as we made our way

toward Mont Juic to the Miro museum. We knew we’d miss her, her screams a lullaby we’d come to expect from El Raval, along with

the doner kebabs, the street we coined Tranny Alley with corners full of big,

beautiful men and women strutting their oiled limbs, locking arms with

young Americans stumbling home at 4 a.m. until they are pushed off the streets by the trucks with the long thick hoses, spraying water every few

hours, circulating, cleaning the city. From Mont Juic on this particular day

the shanties had a silver lining. Sagrada and the Torre Agbar stood erect, pointing skyward, symbols of God and water.

The kelp of the city will reach their fingers out and touch,

without caution, total embrace hands to our nipples, our heads, our knees,

as if to say go forward in one breath and you are never free

from me in the other. This is the exchange of blood, this touching, this hurt, this pulse

of the city, the falling down from 12 inch sidewalks into gutters, climbing to the top of art museums to see the shanty rooftops stacked, some

white, some green, some falling inward. One day in mid October Barcelona and I

stopped in the center of the playground and pricked our fingers with found razor blades.

We pressed them together. I feared nothing but separation. Living is like

making love, all that blood, embrace. We try to protect ourselves,

but how could we ever, with all those beautiful bodies running around us, their dirty hands, splinted arms, oiled limbs, thick hoses. The lark's wing ringed in the blue of gold meets the heart of the poppy asleep on the field studded with diamonds, 1967.

A black line divides us. I am black and blue. I am already lonely.

My bloody thumbprint, your diamond field.

Continue

scrap. a monthly fiercelette.

Info on scrap: 

scrap is a 8*5, 10pg, newsprint booklet of writings, poems-in-revision, drawings, sketches, thoughts, artifacts of communication. It will be the quickest, most regular, physical manifestation of this blog. When you post, you submit. We'll print and mail. You distribute in your LOCAL. Leave in your coffee houses, places of work and study. etc. et al. et seq. 

Continue

road trip 2009

a f****** poster.

Continue

the collective writes a manifesto

just in case anyone out there needs some rules to follow...
the blog is the studio. if the blog dies, studio does, too.
Continue