Portfolio

Sundries

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrel:
I try to avoid any book that I see people reading on the train. It's not so much a stance against popular culture as it is an egomaniacal need to feel above whatever it is others are interested in (I should probably take this up with a therapist sometime). When Susanna Clark's massive tome made its US debut, dozens of readers lugged it around for months. I wrote it off as an extension of the Harry Potter phenomenon and thought nothing more of it. A pity, really, as now that I'm lugging the book around myself, I find it quite engaging. With lots of characters, side-stores and footnotes (that go on for pages) Clark has crafted a pleasant world to get lost in.

A Young Adult Novel that I Cannot Mention:
A dear friend just signed a two book deal with a respected publisher. I was honered to read the first draft and offered lots of suggestions and notes. Fortunately, the book really is good. There's nothing worse than having to tell a friend that their book, band, artwork, poetry, or similar expression is . . . really great! No, really, you're totally talented!

I've been in that position more than once. It's hard to maintain a pleasant countenance when, deep down, you feel rather nauseous about the whole thing. This experience was pleasantly different. I'll plug it when it's actually in book stores. For now, I've been sworn to secrecy.

Chris Thomas King
In college, I spent countless hours listening to old, scratchy recordings of blues and folk music. I'd scores of albums, many of them from the amazing Smithsonian Folkways catalog. Sadly, in the days before albums were easily ripped to hard drive, I sold the entirety of my collection to (a very happy) used record store. I needed the cash to support an incredibly stupid relationship. Chris Thomas King, with his extraordinary rendition of the classics, has reunited me with the music that once meant so much to me. I've more or less forgotten about the girl.

His Name is Alive
Fuzzy, geek-synth, electronica from Michigan. With sexy vocals. I downloaded Detrola the other day but have yet to listen to it extensively. I think it's good, but it requires a certain situation (and headphones) to be properly appreciated.

Information Aesthetics
I've been on the job interview circuit for the last couple of months. In countless conversations I'm asked "What sites to you read regularly? Where do you draw inspiration?" The answer, inevitably, is Information Aesthetics. It's the sort of site that looks great to prospective employers and has the benefit of actually being a source of great inspiration.

Journal

Monday, March 26

HELLO? ARE YOU STILL THERE?
I am. Though my output is somewhat (OK, radically) diminished I remain present and accounted for. I can’t quite explain the ebbs and flows of my interest, but it seems related to the overall form and function of the site. Since combining the journal that was Greasy Skillet with the portfolio that was Machine Chicago I don’t seem to have quite as much invested as I used to. There’s a reluctance to prattle on about personal issues on a site that also serves professional my professional interests. In short, the merger wasn’t a particularly good idea.

And so, once I get things a bit more firmly established with work and school, another retooling seems to be in order. For now, I’ll just carry on. A new entry follows and the “sundries” column on the left has been refreshed.

THE EROTIC ARCHITECTURE OF HIROSHI SUGIMOTO
The photography retrospective currently on display at the MCA features a massive print of Hiroshi Sugimoto’s Fujisawa Municipal Gymnasium. A small, web based version of the print simply doesn’t do it justice. The 4 x 5 foot image in the gallery is extraordinary. Surrounded by scores of prints from dozens of artists at the MCA exhibit, it stands out as something truly unique. I glanced at everything displayed, but I savored Sugimoto’s print.

Fujisawa Municipal Gymnasium, Hiroshi Sugimoto Along with the rest of his architecture series, it’s strangely erotic. The gymnasium is obviously phallic and so obviously not. I stood there, dumbstruck, for a long while. All the while repeating the artist’s name so that I wouldn’t forget. Hiroshi Sugimoto. Hiroshi Sugimoto. Hiroshi Sugimoto.

Passers-by undoubtedly thought I suffered from some odd obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Sugimoto uses a large format, 8 x 10 inch camera. I don’t know the precise nature of his technique, but uses incredibly long exposures to achieve the ghostly, almost pinhole like images. I don’t have anything approaching his equipment or experience, but I’d love to try to replicate his process somehow. I think I can approximate it with my trusty Graflex 4 x 5.

The results, undoubtedly, will be laughable. But emulating the masters of a craft never hurt anyone.