With oversized elements combined with opulent forms, designer Tord Boontje’s Closer Armchair creates a seating element that is comforting and graphic. Here, design elements of the Closer Armchair strive for the metaphysical; the designer’s attempt to conjure the comforting forms of our memory.
Constructed of a wooden frame and covered with stress-resistent plyurethane foam at varied densities along with polyester fiber, the armchair is then upholstered with a textile cover in a striking floral graphic motif, also designed by Boontje.
The Closer armchair is available in two sizes.
Link: Studio Tord Boontje
The “Barrell Chair” by Frank Lloyd Wright was designed in 1937 for Herbert Johnson’s house, Wingspread. Made of Natural cherrywood with an upholstered leather seat, the chair was actually a reworking of a design Wright had originally created in 1904.
Wright saw the chair as an architectural challenge. Using tall, straight chairs as a screen around tables, the simple shape of Wright’s chairs allowed for machine production and therefore affordable design. Wright was of the opinion that machines could actually enhance the designs; “THe machine has liberated the beauties of nature in wood.” Speaking to the Arts and Crafts Society in 1901, Wright said in his lecture, “…with the exception of the Japanese, wood has been misused and mishandled everywhere.”
Also features in Wingspread is the Johnson Wax 1 Writing Desk. Characteristic of Wright’s designs, three geometrically shaped wooden tops positioned at different heights provide more than ample writing room. The harmonic ‘wingspread’ design of the desk even allows for multiple users of this desk at the same time with leg room made to spare on the left hand side and table space. The desks steel structure continues the patterns of Wingspread and is painted in brick red (to match the cherry tops).
The desk is equipped with two drawers, a wastebasket, and two racks. Small parts for accent and construction are made of glossed brass.
Gilding, an admirer of Wright’s since childhood, had the distinct pleasure of seeing these pieces last Spring at the High Museum in Atlanta. And yas, it took some serious restraint and posted museum guards to prevent Gilding from sitting in them. Oh, don’t give her that look. It’s furniture. It’s meant to be sat in. Silly museum coordinators.
It is not my design,
Toby Dammit. He
was a sad dog, it is
true, and a dog’s
death it was that he
died; but he himself
was not to blame for
his vices. They grew
out of a personal
defect in his mother.
She did her best in
the way of flogging
him while an infant–
for duties to her
babies, like tough
steaks, or the
modern Greek olive
trees, are invariably
the better for
woman! she had the
misfortune to be left-
handed, and a child
handedly had better
be left unflogged.
The world revolves from right to left. It will not do to whip a baby from left to right. If each blow in the proper direction drives an evil propensity out, it follows that every thump in an opposite one knocks its quota of wickedness in. I was often present at Toby’s chastisements, and, even by the way in which he kicked, I could perceive that he was getting worse and worse every day. At last I saw, through the tears in my eyes, that there was no hope of the villain at all, and one day when he had been cuffed until he grew so black in the face that one might have mistaken him for a little African, and no effect had been produced beyond that of making him wriggle himself into a fit, I could stand it no longer, but went down upon my knees forthwith, and, uplifting my voice, made prophecy of his ruin.
The fact is that his precocity in vice was awful. At five months of age he used to get into such passions that he was unable to articulate. At six months, I caught him gnawing a pack of cards. At seven months he was in the constant habit of catching and kissing the female babies. At eight months he peremptorily refused to put his signature to the Temperance pledge. Thus he went on increasing in iniquity, month after month, until, at the close of the first year, he not only insisted upon wearing moustaches, but had contracted a propensity for cursing and swearing, and for backing his assertions by bets.
Through this latter most ungentlemanly practice, the ruin which I had predicted to Toby Dammit overtook him at last
Due for her appointment with the gynecologist later in the week, a ‘dearly distracted mother’ recieved a call from the doctor’s office to inform her that her appointment had been rescheduled for 9:30 that morning. She had only just packed everyone off to school and work, and it was already a flustering 8:45 a.m. The trip to the doctor’s office would take about 35 minutes, so there was little time to spare and none to waste. As most women do, ‘dearly distrated mother’ preferred to take a little extra effort over hygiene when making such visits, but this time she wasn’t going to be able to make the full effort. Rushing upstairs, she threw off her pajamas, wet the washcloth that was sitting nesxt to the sink, and gave herself a quick wash of her pleasantly poochy delicate bits to make sure that she was at least presentable. Throwing the washcloth into the clothes basket, ‘dearly distracted mother’ donned some clothes, hopped in the car and raced to her appointment.
It was only a brief wait in the waiting room before ‘dearly distracted mother’ was called into the examining room. Knowing the procedure, she quickly disrobed, hopped up on the stirupped table, and pretended she on a Parisian escape. So imagine her surprise when awkwardly pulled from her Paris walk when her gynecologist said, “My, we have made an extra effort this morning, haven’t we?” Needless to say, blushing was about her only response.
After the appointment, ‘dearly distracted mother’ heaved a sigh of relief and preceded with the rest of her day normally; some shopping, some cleaning, and cooking. Home from school, her bouncing six year old daughter had been playing cheerfully when she called out to her mother from the bathroom, “Mommy, where’s my washcloth?” Leaving her explanation to simple instruction, ‘dearly distracted mother’ told her daughter to get another one from the cupboard. The daughter earnestly replied, “No, I need the one that was here by the sink. It had all my glitter and sparkles saved inside it.”
By simply making a hole in a rubber boot, designer Saskia Marcotti has created an original, kickass bag.
But ‘puddle-stompers’ have recently made a more tender place in Gilding’s heart. Ok, hard to believe, bitchy as she is, but it’s the truth. Blame it all on that little ray of sunshine that was Marisa — rather, make that is, because next to rainbows and puffy clouds, one big flaming ray of sunshine is about all the containment God could put her in.
In February, Marisa died in a car accident. The loss to all who love her is tremendous, and Gilding can’t think of one funeral she has been to that has ever reached the magnitude that Marisa’s did. Family and friends poured in and out of Marisa’s mausoleum like the ebb and flow of gently crashing waves on the shore.
In harkening sorrow, family and friends listened to the silence to find the whispers of some solace to fill the empty space Marisa’s passing left in their heart. What they found was that a space had never been left empty, but filled with more expression and Joy, as was her namesake — Marisa Joy.
Of this sea of joy, sorrowful mourners became artists and philanthropists, and Marisa’s beloved ‘puddle-stompers’ their vehicle.
Project Joy Boots is a not-for-profit organization run by Marisa’s family to raise money, currently for a scholarship to be established in Marisa’s name at her alma mater, Gulf Coast Community College, for future Technical Theater Majors. Rainboots are decorated by family, friends, artists, and just plain cooky people and sold and/or auctioned as pieces of art. Should you want to wear them, then by all means, do so. Afterall, for Marisa, the more outlandish, the more decorated, and heaven knows, if it didn’t by all common sense match a damn thing, then it was the perfect pair of ‘puddle-stompers’.
Visit Project Joy Boots Facebook page for information on how to purchase or even donate your own pair of ‘Joy Boots’. There is also information on how to donate directly to the bank account established for Project Joy Boots raised funds.
Rising from the flood of “awareness-as-apathy preachings” of modern day artists to such ranks of “awareness-as-action” the likes of Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Public Enemy, and Dead Kennedys, Flobots is being heralded in music reviews as a “chocolate/peanut butter combination of music and activism mixed together to create the tasty sensation of protest music.”
Ok, so it was only one review that expressly said that, but that was a pretty damn tasty description. And an accurate one. Flight With Tools, the band’s first full-length release, is a call to arms that even the most jaded listener will swayed to pick up a flag — or cardboard sign touting fancing slogans of activistic ilk — and march on Washington with.
Flobots — a hip-hop group from Denver, Colorado — is a lyrical cacophony that seeks to educate without sermonizing. The song structure is complicated, the music is rivals the operatic complexities of arena rock with a rising, flowing discord of varies instruments and beats, and all culminate into one seemless entity that is…Handlebars. Ok, all of their songs. Handlebars just happens to be the one Gilding is inspired by at the moment.
Tree Houses are awesome, in fact, they are the ultimate childrens ‘toy’. Gracing every child’s christmas list — including the grown ones — and every once in a while you will come across some significant other’s Christmas list posted to the fridge door in even the most elegant of aged handwriting asking Santa for that ever dreamed of tree house. If you think you’re too old for Santa Claus and Christmas Wish Lists, get over yourself. You’re a drag and you friends and loved ones are doing you a diservices by not telling you so.
But Gilding always dreamt of going that one step further, having a tree house literally inside of a tree. Ok, so Gilding is far too hoity-toity to be happy with that mere amount of space as would be afforded from a bored out tree so obviously the conventional tree house need be built as well — hey, Gilding’s fantasy therefore she can be as bitchy as she wants to be. (Ha! Like any of that has ever stopped her before.) But how fucking cool would it be to have to ascend into a tree house from a winding staircase inside of a tree.
Swiss Family Robinson, eat your heart out. Living in a tree house was your last resort, you silly shipwrecked harbingers of Christian-oriented moral lessons of frugality, husbandry, resignation, and cooperation. Eco-architect Mitchell Joachim has created a ‘tree house’ meant to save the earth one ficus molded frame structure at a time.
Designed to be a living treehouse in which the dwelling itself merges with its environment and nourishes its inhabitants, the Fab Tree Hab dissolves conventional concept of home and establishes a new symbiosis between house and its surrounding ecosystem.
“In order to build the arboreal frame, the designers utilize “pleaching” – a gardening technique in which tree branches are woven together to form living archways. Trees such as Elm, Live Oak, and Dogwood bear the heavier loads, while vines, branches, and plants form a lattice for the walls and roof of the house. The interior structure is made of cob (clay and straw), a tried-and-true green building approach that lends itself to customized shaping of walls and ceilings.”
The trees that form the frame and the plants that grow on the external walls are meant to provide sustenance for the inhabitants as well as other living creatures that interact with the structure. This living estate will be biologically pure and contain no unknown substances, as the structure will utilize all natural building materials. As the designers point out, even those building materials that tout sustainability are nevertheless industrially manufactured and contain components that are not fully understood in terms of their long-term impact.
Henry David Thoreau said, “The world is but a canvas to the imagination.” Painter and bookmaker, Evy Jokhova concerns herself with the deepest recesses of imagination’s psychology with that of her own current craze with fantasy and fairytales within contemporary society.
Through various medias, Jokhova creates make-believe worlds that focus on escapism through imagination. As Carl Sagan once said, “Imagination will often carry us to worlds that never were,” and Jokhova works are an attempt to realize the need for inventions of unrestrained fantasy in our society; defining the moment when the boundary between the real and the imaginary blurs.
Referencing everyday life, Jokhova morphs
the mundane objects of our daily lives into
people and animals, creating fantasy worlds, dreamscapes, and imaginary creatures. Most intriguingly is the fluidity with which these scenes morph over various medias within one works, let alone several, creating fantasy worlds that never meet boundaries and wholly involve the viewer in a surreal world meant to inspire the imagination and encourage involvement with the works.
Repetition and layering are used within the works to help the ebb of this boundless of fluidity and manipulate the imagery within to create new forms. Composition, line, and form come together to create abstract and representational forms from basic forms that manipulate imagery and construct exploration rather than specific imagery. The installations become portals into an alternate world that surrounds us within our own.
Link: Saatchi Online
If Edward Gorey and Richard Scarry were to have a ‘love child’ — eesh, sounds painful — Mattias Adolfsson would be it.
Seemingly whimsical at first glance, Adolfsson’s illustrations are far more incisive, created of layered details that is plainly visible yet intricate enough to beckon deep, long spent moments examinging all its nooks and crannies.
There is a warmth that emminates even from Adolfsson’s black & white inkings that would make even the Grinch’s heart grow from its two sizes too small.
There is much that could be said about Adolfsson’s illustrations, but frankly, it would be gilding a lily without much ado for justice. These are works that simply must be experienced. So take a look. You have your choice of stumbling upon his Fantasy Cities Set as Gilding first did, or just explore Every Drawing as you are bound to do, or check out his blog, Mattias Inks.
Hell, go mad-doodly-wild and check them all out.
Link: Mattias Adolfsson flickr | Mattias Inks Blog | Mattias Adolfsson’s Portflio
Inspired by Britain’s love of tea, product designer Christine Misiak mixes elements of the contemporary with bright, poppy colors and elements of craft with industrially manufactured products. The outcome is a design of old and new.
Misiak rejuvinates old neglected tea sets by recycling, restyling, and resurfacing them, transforming them into elegant ‘green sets’ that celebrate the tradition of past and that of the present.
The “homeless” tea sets are rescued from their days of going to waste in dust gathering charity shops, flea markets, and car boot sales and transformed into Misiak’s product lines, “New/Old Tea Sets” and “Old/New Tea Sets”, as whole sets are customized with vibrant or contemporary colors, creating a shocking contrast of new and old. And no era of tea set is left unrescued if found, from antique, to mod, to modern contemporary, each set is customized by Misiak to reflect this blending of old and new.
Founder of the New
Deal, the greatest
investment in our
literally rebuilt the
United States and
brought it from
the 19th century into
the 20th. And now,
the Franklin D.
Roosevelt Presidential Library and Museum at Hyde Park, N.Y., the nation’s first presidential library, is falling apart in near irrevocable proportions, threatening the loss of the materials documenting this historic legacy, which brought us roads, bridges, dams and even libraries and museums.
The tradition of national presidential libraries was innaugurated by Roosevelt when he donated his personal and presidential papers to the government — a testament to the once great presidents’ belief that they were nothing greater or above than a public servant. Along with these paper, Roosevelt also donated land from his estate along the Hudson River. Friends of the president formed a nonprofit corporation to raise money to build the library, which Roosevelt designed himself and incorporated within the facade the native Hudson Valley fieldstone. Construction started in 1939 and finished in 1941; much of which has not been updated since.
The basement, which lies below the water table and is where collections are stored, flood in a good rain, and have only sump pumps, which were installed in 1939, to keep it dry, but don’t. Storm and sewer drainage run together, which means they mingle if there’s a backup in the basement, and causes flooding in restrooms and public areas.
The electrical system, which was also installed in 1939, has outlived the suppliers of its replacement parts. Archivists use the original circuit breakers to turn the lights on and off, which is housed in the flooding basement and presents a hazard for shorting and setting the place on fire, subsequently destroying the entire collection. Furthermore, the staff have come to resort to stuffing towels against doorjambs to keep water out.
and they are
would, and will
soon, a grave
When is the
last time a
people he is
meant to serve, the papers not only of his legislation, but those of his own personal collection. These papers demonstrate a time in America in which the presidency believed and practiced the moral value of public service. Roosevelt’s papers demonstrate not a deification of a president stored within the walls of a library, but precedence. A precedence that this is what it means to be a president. Furthermore, the F.D.R. Presidential Library and Museum is not a monument but a place of research and knowledge, a place of America’s history, not of reverence to one man. As President Reagan described, presidential libraries are “classrooms of democracy” that belong to the American people.
Parts of the steam heating system are also original, including the asbestos that was used to insulate the steam pipes, presenting a danger to employees and the public as the asbestos continues to crack and peel. The museum saw some 110,000 visitors last year, along with the 15,000 elementary and high school students who visit each year, making it among one of the most popular presidential museums visited.
The heating system is so out of date it can’t be calibrated or repaired. Old transformers contain PCB, a dangerous toxic material. Security and fire systems are outdated. Household dehumidifiers are deployed among the archive stacks and museum exhibits in a losing battle to control damaging humidity.
The House Financial Services Subcommittee has approved funds for repairs and new equipment at the library, covering the first year of a three-year program. The House Appropriations Committee is the next step, and, of course, the Senate must agree.
Such is a sad state for the stewardship of our history.
Link: NYTimes– “Freedom from Mildew | Franklin D. Roosevelt Library & Museum | William J. Clinton Presidential Library & Museum
Original article written by Nick Taylor of the New York Times, “Freedom from Mildew”
1 bottle white zinfandel wine
1 bottle raspberry-ginger ale (such as Reeds)
3/4 cup pomegranate schnapps
1 pint raspberries
Stir together wine, ginger ale, schnapps, ice and raspberries, in a large pitcher, and serve.
Yield: 6 servings.
Recipe by Emiline
Link: Visions of Sugar Plum
Frances Trombly recreates the mundane objects of our everyday life, making labor-intensive pieces through weaving, embroidery, cross stitch, and crochet. By recreating what it mass-produced Trombly gives testimony to the beauty that is missing from the otherwise utilitarian original, bringing ornamentation to what would by nature simply be of usefulness.
“Her objects exist in an environment where value lives, where value thrives, the gallery or museum. The contrast confronts the viewer, asking questions about labor, value, history, feminism, class, and the American way of life.”
Falling Garden, San Staë Church on the Canale Grande, 50th Biennial of Venice, 2003.
“The Doge (Mocenigo) needed a church so as to be able to have a monumental tomb built for himself, the church (San Staë) needed a saint so as to be able to be built, the saint (San Eustachio) needed a miracle so as to be pronounced a saint, the miracle needed a stag in order to be seen, and we built the garden for the reindeer.
The visitors lie on the bed above the Doge’s gravestone, and the garden thinks for them.“
“The local school district is really hurting. We live in one of the lowest paying and poorest counties in the state. Part of the reason for this is that a large portion of the land in the county is owned by the University of Florida and is therefore tax exempt.”
DeeZone makes an astute observation in but one of the facets of Florida’s current education crisis. The import of this observation is Gilding’s own current life changes as she and Mr. Gilding move on to University for the next stage of their life.
Last Fall we had quite a rude awakening when we toured the Fine Arts department of Florida State University. Our programs were picked and being applied for, our living arrangements had been made and contracting arrangements to modify our new home for wheelchair accessibility for Mr. Gilding were in the works. What we found there was a University whose Art department was completely inaccessible to wheelchairs and a program advisor who found it a complete and utter imposition to have us there let alone apply to their program. She was even so brazen as to tell Mr. Gilding that if he couldn’t “do art the traditional way — the way its supposed to be done — then why waste your time and the program’s time.” The feelings of humiliation and degredation were more than words can adequately describe and is still an open wound for us. The advisor didn’t see him, she didn’t see an artist. She saw a wheelchair. She saw 30 years of documented complaints and AHEAD seminars and student disertations against the department for their inaccessibility staring her in the face.
For crissakes, its art — isn’t the whole concept behind art about pushing the fucking boundaries! About working outside of the box!
This past weekend, Gilding & Mr. Gilding spoke with the preliminary advisors of our respective programs of study. Already being an extremely competitive school to get into, Florida’s budget cuts in its current education crisis has caused Universities to become even more elitist than they already were. With this in the rise, many students, including the Gilded Duo, have chosen the path of community college to seek their Associate in Arts degree and transfer into one of these leading Universities — a path with which many Universities put priority in admitting transfer students with an A.A. over Freshman and even Sophomore applicants.
But once again, its seems as though the Arts is stonewalling for the sake of pretenciousness, and the budget cuts affecting Florida’s state funded education systems is further giving them the ability — and the blanket to cover their asses. Where it used to be talent, a slam-dunk portfolio, and the GPA that make-or-break an individual’s chances of getting into the Arts program of the University of their choice — in this case being University of Florida — now its course numbers…hell, its even the access to courses.
See, the purpose of the Community College, in the track of higher education, is that it is an institution with which an individual — upon graduating with their A.A. — has attained an education in all the core required classes necessarry to their major for continuing on at the University level as a junior — or in other words, entering Baccalaureate studies. However, many Universities are requiring as core requisites, courses that aren’t offered at most Community Colleges, not only for attaining an A.A. in their respective field, but just not offering those courses period. Such is the case, as we learned this weekend, with the UF Digital Media and Graphic Design programs.
So where does that leave us, or any other student in the same such situation? Well, the UF advisor’s suggestion — pick another University, go there, obtain those classes if they offer it, the credits may or may not be accepted by UF (and in most cases will not be), include those works in your portfolio, and being the elitists that they are, if your portfolio knocks them out of their socks they’ll find some way of accepting you into the program (though probably not into the desired program of study) and let you work your way through each program until you have taken the classes you need to finally be accepted into the program you want. So why can’t they let you transfer in with the classes you have and do the same? Because they don’t.
Yep. That’s it. That’s the answer that you are supposed to accept. To do the latter is no different than what the advisor is proposing in the former — not respectively at least. The loophole that the program is latching onto is the difference of having to take a sophomore level class at the University, which they won’t allow you to do because as a transfer student you are technically a junior, which means you don’t have the required class you need to be accepted into the program and therefore you won’t be which means you can’t take classes at the University because you won’t be accepted into the program. Whereas, if you take the required classes at some other University, even if the credits don’t transfer, the program advisors can see from your transcript that you have taken the class and therefore to some degree have learned those expected core requisites and you can then be admitted into the program (if your portfolio impresses them) and take those same classes that you have already taken at another University again just so you can have to proper course codes necessary to graduating from the School of Fine Arts at the University of Florida.
Sound like a lot of splitting hairs. That’s because it is. It’s nothing more than bureaucratic bullshit. So how does the current Florida education crisis factor into this. Well, budget cuts means that less money is going to the programs within the University, which means the programs are forced to accept even less students than their elitists asshole selves already do. Less money also means that other colleges are not able to create those programs necessary as core requisites. The need for these beginning higher education institutions to seek non-existent to minimal funds to create these additional classes is further put on the backburner as the additional courses often vary from Univeristy to University (one such example is that UF requires two courses for admittance into the Digital Media and Graphic design programs that FSU does not require). The lack of continuity or uniformity between Universities may create diversity — or as they like to say without so many words, puts their quality stamp of approval on its graduates — makes it less of a priority for colleges to create the courses needed if they can’t transfer to all the state’s Universities across the board.
Furthermore, budget cuts have caused the acceptance rate of students into programs to be cut in drastic proportions. Last year, UF was only able to admit 1000 new applicants into its Fine Arts program. With another $1-$2 million dollars being cut from the school’s budget, the University has forced the Fine Arts program to cut is acceptance rate to nearly half of what they accepted last year — that’s only 500 applicant spots available for this Fall.
So what’s the moral of the story here? Florida’s education is a whole vat of suckage at the moment — while the Nation is funding college careers at an all time high even with the current recession, the State of Florida is pulling funds from education every chance it gets. On that note, students, go fuck an alumn and guarentee your spot at the University of your choice. And if that’s not an option, then apply to the University of Central Florida in Orlando. They are a competitive school to get into as well, but current trends have shown that the school is much more open to enrollment than many of the state’s other Universities are currently being.
On a totally hypocritical note, it looks like Gilding herself is in good standing to be accepted into the College of Liberal Arts & Sciences at the University of Florida for her major in English. The English program wasn’t nearly as elitist as the Arts. Go figure.
Beginning quote from Deezone, “Florida Education Crisis”