In 1962, the architect Buckminster Fuller envisioned a floating city that would free humanity from its dependence on the Earth. The speculative project consisted of enormous geodesic spheres that would naturally levitate in air warmed by the sun and be anchored to mountaintops.
'Give them a smile, you know, something that can also be a deeper level of understanding,' Sara Ricciardi tells designboom, framing the installation as an immediate emotional trigger before it unfolds into something more layered.
Each morning, he made himself a to-do list and crossed out items as he completed them as straightforwardly as any middle manager. Shopping-list tasks like 'china markers' or 'order canvas' sit alongside reminders like 'paint sister's baby furniture.'
The design elements I would use for my maximalist work takes inspiration from tarpaulin advertisements and posters you would see across Metro Manila. The visual character of these advertisements are really kitsch.
"The idea for a dedicated consultancy arm actually predates GCC's launch in 2020. Right from the beginning, it was clear that while shared standards, tools and advocacy are essential, many organisations would require hands-on, tailored support to implement meaningful change."
Sand Art is a game by Kory Jordan and published by 25th Century Games for two to four players ages 10 and up. It takes about an hour to play, and has you collecting resources and then coloring in a bottle, making art in a bottle out of sand, in case the name didn't give away the plot. Gameplay Overview: Sand Art has you gathering and mixing sand, which is used to fill your bottle.
Tom Prochaska distinguished himself in many mediums: He was a masterful printmaker, an intuitive painter, a builder of papier-mâché figures, a creator of fused glass panels, and graphite-on-paper drawings.
Much of Instagram's video content is organized around transformation-the virtual magic of the before-and-after and clips that show cause and effect. A person makes pasta from scratch in 20 seconds via edits that compress time-intensive labor.
In the hushed, monastic cells of Florence's Museo di San Marco, Mark Rothko's canvases pulse with spiritual intensity. Rothko's paintings are a new arrival, part of the city's latest major exhibition.
I see myself first and foremost as a weaver working at the intersection of craft and technology. As an Angeleno, I grew up learning how to weave in the Wixárika tradition of my matriarchal bloodline by watching my mother and my grandmother.
Yale came to me and said there isn't an overarching book about the history of printmaking; they wanted it to be about the printed image. There are a lot of books about printing-about the history of journalism or the history of books, the printing press and the printed word-but not so much about the printed image and its processes. So that was my challenge.
On Franklin Street in Brooklyn's Greenpoint neighborhood, one non-commercial gallery fosters 'a small, stubbornly human space for friction.' Friction—the ubiquitous buzzword that captures the simultaneous delight and discomfort of doing things the slow way—is at the heart of artists Pap Souleye Fall and Char Jeré's current show at Subtitled NYC. It also reflects the overall spirit of this little exhibition space and of a burgeoning movement to reject our culture of optimization in favor of a bumpier, more intimate, less alienating experience.
The studio is at my house within a ranch, surrounded by nature. It's on the second floor of the house, where there's better light. My routine all day shifts between studio work and housework, including outdoor garden work. I get up a bit before 7am, drink coffee in the yard, and get morning sunshine. Then my husband and I eat breakfast and do a bit of cleaning or some chores in the garden.