BLUE AND ORANGE

Repulsive.

LOOK CLOSELY

From the book Humble Masterpieces by Paola Antonelli

Macro photography in the style of Edward Weston is very beautiful. Even though the subject is small in scale, the lens blows up what we would otherwise not see thereby allowing us to invest in new images for our own internal "visual dictionaries." Here, an ordinary green zipper becomes exquisite with a rich and balanced colour palette: olive green, charcoal, light gray, beige and white. Texture becomes incredibly apparent with gripping contrast between the thick woven fabric and the hard smooth metal.

THE WILD WEST

Sherman, Cindy. Untitled Film Still #43, 1979. 9x7"

Monument Valley. The most famous and iconic western landscape that appears in quintessential western genre films such as Stagecoach (Dir. John Ford, 1939) and The Searchers (Dir. John Ford, 1956). What’s interesting about Monument Valley is our desire to constantly film it, photograph it and travel through it -- it’s almost as if we want to escape society and our cities for this untouched open landscape, yet we can’t let go completely and thus name it something to keep it a part of society: monuments are structures that are man-made buildings.

Cindy Sherman is posed here as the archetypal frontier woman. Her body language is very telling: the way in which she touches the tree with her left hand while planting her right foot on the branch indicates possession; this woman is claiming the west as hers. Her visionary upward gaze tells of an optimistic sense of longing for discovery and exploration. While her bare feet again play into the image of a strong independent woman, her orderly coiffed hair and the modest position of her right hand keeping her dress in place suggest an inability to let the traditional image of femininity go to the wind. She struggles with this dual identity, which is even apparent in the photograph’s composition. In choosing to set up her tripod with the mature tree in the foreground and the desert of Monument Valley covered by the tree, yet still apparent in the background, Sherman alludes to the inability of a woman to fully abandon the security of a planted life and embrace the vast openness and unknown that is symbolized by the sweeping desert and big sky.

STOP TRYING SO HARD

Arp, Jean. Collage Arranged According to the Laws of Chance, 1916-17. 13x19"

From the Dada movement emerged Jean (Hans) Arp (b. 1887), an artist –– and Virgo –– from Alsace who studied in Paris and Switzerland. What's interesting about Arp is his split identity: when he was born Alsace was German territory (although it had previously belonged to France), but following WWI Alsace was ceded to France. Then it was returned back to Germany in 1940 during WWII. But wait -- it was then re-retroceded to France in 1945. At the end of WWI Arp changed his name from the German Hans to the French Jean. To have your homeland have such an impermanent place in the world must have been very unsettling. Not feeling like you have a firm place in the world is also a bit frustrating.

This frustration was apparent in Arp's inability to find a sure direction for his art in the early 1900s. This dissatisfaction lead him to destroy most of his pre-1915 work in true Virgo "perfect is almost good enough" fashion. The above collage was created using torn bits of paper and was conceived of when Arp became disappointed by a drawing he had made and tore it up, dropped the pieces on the floor, and noticed the arrangement. To find something from nothing doesn't really make much sense, but it is rather inspiring. Arp freed the medium from the creative process, and in doing so he threw away the perfect, the rational and the real to let his art just be. It became okay for the inspiration (paper) to be the art (again, paper).

DEEP THOUGHT

If all of the magazine publishers go out of business how will artists like Jay Kelly create beautiful collage-based art?

MOTHERWELL THE ORINTHOLOGIST

Tamagotchi-like chick in profile (with long skinny legs)

Top-down view of birds with wings spread out

Two roosters (cockfighting?)

I have long since held that Abstract Expressionist Robert Motherwell created some paintings that resemble birds. Might be indicative of a subconscious desire to fly away from the world to escape from the pressure of being a great artist. Or not.

BLUE AND ORANGE

Jarring.

CALL THE MOVING COMPANY

This cantilevered concrete house, known as the Hemeroscopium House, is located in Spain and was designed by Anton Garcia-Abril and apparently only took a week to build. The use of concrete and glass as materials here is striking; the mammoth scale is akin to public structures like museums and libraries, yet it is employed very successfully in this residential space. The obvious piece de resistance, however, is the trough-like cantilevered pool that impales the house.

The exterior reminds me of the interior design theory that if you wish to make a small space seem bigger, decorate sparsely using big objects not small objects -- big and simple not small and scattered. The Hemeroscopium House takes this theory and applies it to the exterior, which accounts for the colossal feel. While intimidating and acutely frightening, the scale seems to empower the resident of this space vis-a-vis a feeling of "surviving" the ton of concrete over your head that seems to be missing the necessary support. The joint system concentrates the weight mostly at the "V" shaped support at the head of the large pool.

This "V" metal joint is a brown colour that contrasts nicely with the dirty beige of the concrete. Texture is remarkable, as each of the three main colours holds their own texture: beige concrete as scuffed, soft and sculpted; brown metal beams as a hard sharp matte; the gray-blue glass as reflective and shiny. The result is a balanced interplay of clean and defined forms, which makes me think that the Hemeroscopium House takes on a very human quality despite its gargantuan and industrial sum appearance.

The concrete is sculpted and soft like a person's skin while the metal beams and joints feel like the skeletal system holding the body together. And most importantly, the glass is reflective and clear like the eyes, which themselves are a window to the soul. Something is missing in this list, though: the mind.

The interior of the house is not visible from these photos, but from through the glass it seems as though it is an open, vast space with long draped fabric curtains that can be closed at will. It is as if this house, despite its blatant domineering and forceful feel, still longs for privacy. And isn't that really the point of a house? That is, enclosure, security, and a keep-safe for one's possessions.

THE ATE-TRAIN IS RUNNING LATE

So TBWA/Chiat Day has decided to evolve the Snickers campaign into a series of made-up words that resemble the logo of the product. While it's nice to see OOH advertisements that do not have 100+ words of body copy or layouts that were done in Powerpoint, the concept here is very weak. The brief probably went a little something like this: Objective: Remind people that Snickers exists and is a food. Strategy: Hunger-related words that look like the snickers logo. Target: A1-120. The minimalist look -- recently employed by pepsi's OOOPTIMISM campaign -- is completely nice and breaks through in media space that is otherwise littered by fifth tier colleges and mta safety announcements. But the idea? The concept? Come on now. "Transfer to the ATE-TRAIN" "HUNGERECTOMY" -- there is nothing here. It's like the eyes are open, but the brain is closed.

BLUE AND ORANGE

The horror.

(and exactly what world is that?)

100% ORANGE

Tropicana had their agency do a re-design of the Tropicana packaging visual identity last year. Should we get excited about this new design? No, no we should not. Just because a design is new doesn't necessarily make it good. That is the case for Tropicana's new look. And this is why:
• The biggest problem is that the Tropicana brand name on the front of the carton is reduced in size and becomes an equal or subordinate element in the design. The "100% orange" becomes the focal point due to its heavy weight, large scale, and centered location.
• Ease of use was thrown out the window. Tropicana makes many types of OJ... pulp, no pulp, some pulp, calcium, heart healthy, etc. Therefore, they need to make sure the consumer can scan across the shelf and easily pick out their choice. "Pulp Free" is nearly hidden by being placed over a background of a similar colour orange. And moreover, why is that the only element that is capitalized in title case?? Everything else is lowercase.
• Typeface. Yes, we know sans serif typefaces are all the rage -- they're modern, clean and liked. Choosing a sans serif typeface just for the sake of having a sans serif is, however, not liked. There is no balance here; the various weights do not complement one another and, quite frankly, the bottom details look really cheap.
• Also reinforcing this meretricious look is the way the layout resembles a generic store-brand juice. The carefree way the type is thrown together underscores this problem.
• The glass of orange juice is all wrong. I do concede, the idea of using a close-up in an almost abstract way is okay. It could work. Just not here. The Tropicana brand is recognized for the iconic straw-in-orange icon. That image tells me quickly and easily that yes, this juice is damn fresh. An unimpressive glass of orange something (Tang?) is too direct and doesn't even look very quenching.
• The GOOD: the only salvageable element in this re-design is the nice touch of the leaves adjacent to the cap so as to resemble an orange. Cute.

We're glad that Tropicana decided to revert back to the old packaging. While it could stand an update, such an update must be thought through beforehand and not after in an absurd justification document that compares the product to the Mona Lisa, Da Vinci, the universe, and... oh wait, that was Pepsi. (See here for the Pepsi post-design justification of brilliance document: PDF here)

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EDIT:

Published: April 02, 2009

NEW YORK (AdAge.com) -- Tropicana's rebranding debacle did more than create a customer-relations fiasco. It hit the brand in the wallet.

The new Tropicana Pure Premium packaging (right) had been on the market less than two months before the company scrapped the redesign.

After its package redesign, sales of the Tropicana Pure Premium line plummeted 20% between Jan. 1 and Feb. 22, costing the brand tens of millions of dollars. On Feb. 23, the company announced it would bow to consumer demand and scrap the new packaging, designed by Peter Arnell. It had been on the market less than two months.