These hypnotizing animated collages were created by Greek animator Aggeliki Vrettou. Her biomechanical creatures appear to be propelled into motion by everything from electric kitchen appliances to living doll parts. In many cases, the animals’ anatomy is completed by other augmented animals, such as the rat “tail” of the horse above and the breathing apparatus on the muzzle of her animatronic seahorse. Her web presence consists of a MySpace page, where this series can be found, and a YouTube channel where she hosts some mesmerizing animated music videos created for the Greek indie electronic band Ion. Vrettou’s stunning animations vaguely remind me of the haunting animation/artwork associated with Mer’s musical project, The Parlour Trick, created by Scott Spencer (this itself may appear reminiscent of a Beats Antique cover, but predates it). If you’re looking at this post in an RSS reader, the images may not appear to be animated. Click here to see these animals (and others from this series) in full swing!
When I went to art school you could always tell the graphic design majors. They were always the well-dressed, well-groomed ladies and gentleman. Their clothes were unwrinkled and unstained; devoid of paint, charcoal, or bodily fluids. They had it together. It was only upon speaking with them that one was made aware that they had not slept in days, spending every waking moment creating a book of fonts that, they assured you were all quite different, despite what your eyes may tell you, Philistine.
Needless to say they were not the sort that would associate with a ne’er-do-well cartooning major like myself. These people had goals; they were going to get jobs, jobs that actually pertained to their field of study. They would be the ones who would pick the typeface for the books I read and insisted upon the inclusion of a short biography of said typeface near the back so that I would know just how this amazing evolution of the printed word came to be. They would lay out the magazine and brochures. They would make actual money. They would be able to eat on a regular basis. They may as well have been aliens.
It is for you, then, that I link this video. You will understand that this is no simple parody of Lady Gaga’s “Pokerface”, a performer who is a parody already, thereby making this only a part of a Moebius strip of parodies. No, this is truly a love letter to the subtle, almost mythical realm of typeface; a realm whose various shades are so subtle that only the true master can decipher the alchemy involved. It is a fabulous ode to mean lines and baselines, descenders and ascenders, serifs and the lack thereof; replete with bow-ties and beards.
To the rest of you I apologize for the graphic design and Gaga, but not for the beards and bow-ties.
Just a late-night blogging of a beautiful print ad from 1953-54 for Ford Zephyr. Via Vintage Scans, where it’s lovingly presented with the tagline “Ford Zephyr: for the exceptionally well-dressed and positively fucksome bank robber.” Hat and suit by Ronald Paterson, a British fashion designer born in 1917 (and still alive today!) who later served as fashion consultant on such films as The Spy Who Loved Me. Another ad from the same campaign featured an elegant evening gown, also by Paterson (via 20th Century Ads).
I’ve been relatively free of the internet as of late, a state dictated by my having moved. Having finally reacquired a connection one can imagine the dismay I felt upon seeing the post directly beneath this one. Regardless of the article’s cathartic nature, a mere glimpse of that sour visage is enough to drive me to teeth-gnashing rage. Even now I hammer the keys with with unnecessary force.
In a bid to “get my mind right” and dispel any cloying vestiges of bratty whinging being passed off as philosophy I present this very special message from the Miami-Dade County Justice Department, circa 1988, who want you to know who the sex offenders are in your area. To that end, they created this spectacular video, and had these individuals spit some dope rhymes about their crimes. This may or may not be the work of comedian Scott Gairdner. Either way, fake or not, you should probably keep an eye on Sam. He’s a bit too enthusiastic.
If you read any rant today, make sure it’s “The Bitch Is Back”. (Be warned: should you happen to think Objectivism is nifty, you may not appreciate it quite as much.) Andrew Corsello’s essay for GQ concerning author/philosopher Ayn Rand’s followers and her work’s lingering influence over global economics and politics is a raw, rambunctious, damning piece of work. Here’s a choice excerpt:
In the end, it’s not the books but the smug, evangelical certainty of Ayn Rand Assholes that causes me to loathe Ayn Rand in a personal way. The thing I liked most about college was being around so many young people who were as earnest as they were dauntingly smart. People who didn’t (yet) feel the need to own every room they walked into. People who knew how to ask questions. That was it. All that elevated question-asking, and the pliancy of temperament it entailed.
We were children. Then came Rand, “the Rosa Klebb of letters,” as entertainment journalist Gary Susman calls her, to body-snatch some of the best of them. Rhetorical question: Is there anything more irritating than a 20-year-old incapable of uttering the words “I don’t know”?
Actually, there is: an 82-year-old Alan Greenspan admitting in October 2008—at least ten years too late—that he’d found “a flaw in the model that I perceived as the critical functioning structure that defines how the world works.”
WORD. Wish I still had the email address for this kid in my high school econ class who used to carry Rand’s photo around in his wallet and habitually referred to people as “subnormals”, just so I could send him the final, frothing paragraphs of Corsello’s essay.
Happy birthday, comrade Nadya. Can you believe it’s already been a whole year?! So much has happened in that time. You endured intense hardship and celebrated huge victories, moving from LA to London to San Francisco. You collaborated with remarkable people and accomplished admirable feats. Hell, you even manged to stop biting your nails! Congratulations.
Every single day, your efforts and encouragement continue to hold Coilhouse together. You really are our tiny, sexy tube of superglue. We’re stuck on you like clock gears hot-gunned to a cosplayer’s cotton poly-blended bloomers.
Now, we realize it’s not much (certainly not a $53K Lady Yu porcelain action figure), but still, we wanted to make a concerted effort to celebrate your birth properly this year, with vaguely unsettling Russian animation…
Plenty of cake…
…and of course, party hats.
Now blow out the candles! (Hint: they’re under the shar peis.)
It’s been quite a hiatus for the FAM. Why that was, no one knows. Perhaps the FAM was in hiding, on the lam after a particularly large methamphetamine deal went decidedly South; or maybe the FAM has been kept in a dank, dingy basement for the past two or three weeks, the unwilling plaything of a cruel and demented mistress. Like I said, we’ll never know. But the FAM is back, albeit with a gaunt visage and a faraway look in its eyes. Poor, poor FAM.
To ring in its return we present to you, our adoring, viewing audience Rowdy Roddy Piper’s breakout film, They Live; directed by the one and only John Carpenter. Now, I realize that there has been a particularly heavy dose of Carpenter on the FAM as of late and, rest assured, this will be the end. For a while. Hopefully. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. They Live is the story of a young man named George Nada who comes into the possession of a pair of sunglasses that allow him to see the truth lying under the surface of our perceived reality. That truth being that the world is controlled by skull-faced aliens who jerk us about like puppets through the use of hidden, subliminal messages. This lifting of the veil terrifies Mr. Nada and he is encouraged to save the human race by masticating chewing gum and “kicking ass”. He is partnered with Kieth David — who previously appeared in Mr. Carpenter’s The Thing — who plays the part of Frank Armitage. Frank Armitage is also the pseudonym that Carpenter used when he wrote the script and is also the name of a character in The Dunwich Horror by one Howard Phillips Lovecraft. The story of They Live a has equally pulpy roots, the plot being taken from both “Eight O’Clock in the Morning” by Ray Nelson, originally published in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction and a story called “Nada” from a comic entitled Alien Encounters by both FantCo and Eclipse.
It is no surprise then that They Live turned out the way it did. This is a classic sort of quick and dirty sci-fi, with brash, one-liner-spewing heroes and a central premise masquerading as social commentary. But you know what? As cheesy as They Live can be — um, Rowdy Roddy Piper stars in this — it is still fantastic, a delectable morsel of Carpenter’s truly over-the-top films that are both unabashedly silly and truly enjoyable. It is mindless, yet guilt-free entertainment and sometimes, that’s all one need.
Can one of you guys please get me this Yulia Tymoshenko doll for my birthday? A $53K porcelain representation of Lady Yu as Robin Hood, complete with a bow and arrow and leather boots fitted with spurs, isn’t too much to ask for this year, is it? Anyone? …guys? Okay, fine. I’ll settle for the homemade Barbie version. (Unless Marina Bychkova decides to take a stab at it.)
The dolly above, along with other figures of prominent Ukrainian politicians, was crafted by artist Yelena Kuznetsova for yesterday’s Ukrainian Doll Parade, an auction aimed towards raising money for the construction of an orphans’ rehabilitation center. Tymoshenko’s doll was by far the most popular; it was auctioned off for ten times the estimated price, according to news source RT.
Top row: L: Yulia shows the babybats how it’s done. R: Yulia and the Prince of Darkness. Bottom row: L: Yulia and her pet tigress, Tigrulya. R: Yulia knows how to accessorize.
The Coilhouse obsession with Tymoshenko (and, more recently, her tribe of Amazonian defenders) dates back to 2007. Since then, she’s been busy – negotiating oil disputes with Russia, campaigning for health reform, and galvanizing global support for leg-o-mutton sleeves and black lace. After falling out with President Yushchenko earlier this year, Tymoshenko announced her bid to run in the January 2010 Presidential Elections. While I’m neutral on Tymoshenko as a politician, I’m a staunch supporter of her hair and its commitment to solving the gas crisis.
Today is Tymoshenko’s birthday, so here’s wishing our Ukranian Dune Priestess the very best on her special day. Your update on Yulia’s gothic agenda, after the jump.
Polish artist Szymon Klimek creates startlingly small models out of paper thin sheets of brass, which he displays in glass goblets. Even more astounding are his lilliputian, moving engines powered by the rays of the sun with the use of tiny solar panels. I have a raging nerd-on for work like this. I spent much of my youth attempting to hastily construct various types of models and miniatures. My lack of patience was a considerable hindrance, meaning that I left a long trail of shoddily painted plastic and wood behind me; amorphous piles of acrylic, enamel, and glue that in no way resembled the images that adorned their respective packages. One really must enjoy the process in order to construct magnificent pieces like Klimek’s and I, like many, am much more interested in the destination than the journey. I suppose that’s why they invented money.
