A NATION OF STALKERS

www.zappos.com/map

THE NOW NETWORK

I want what I want when I want it. Right. Now. I love how Sprint is positioning itself as the all-knowing power above amongst wireless carriers. It knows everything. Eggs. Tweets. Bicycle sales. Sprint's voice is not centered on the individual like VZW and T-Mobile, but rather the collective and the ability to harness the collective because of their awesome omnipotence.

Visually, Sprint's site opens with this command center that is a collection of boxes, graphs, gauges and more. Everything is organized and fits together. The silver of the boxes has just a tasteful glimmer of gradient and the use of colour is sparing and simple. The logo is not overbearing and politely lets the content rule, thank goodness, so that content and brand become one. Although the actual information is seemingly random, it is nonetheless useful as a quick digest to grasp the goings on of the world easily and quickly. By showcasing their network's power Sprint lets me assume some of that control and power, which of course taps in to my inner information-seeking alpha male.

So much better than a pin drop.

BLUE AND ORANGE

Oh hell. Not again.

NEXT STOP: GREENE STREET

Schein, Francoise. Subway Map Floating on a New York Sidewalk, 1986.

There's an interesting and little-noticed work of art on Greene Street in Soho. It is a sculpture, albeit one that is embedded in the city sidewalk. It consists of inlaid steel bars representing train lines with circular lights representing the train stops. While it is almost an exact copy of a Manhattan subway map, the work does initially seem to be an abstraction due to its scale and odd-ish self-referential subject matter. Visually, the clean metal Bauhaus-esque lines serve as a shiny, light contrast to the matte, dark concrete of the sidewalk. This sculpture belongs here and these lines feel so naturally integrated in their space probably because of they are reminiscent of the famed cast iron buildings that permeate Soho.

The subway, which lives underground, has been brought above ground perhaps in an effort to get people to see and appreciate it as a whole, not just the parts in which we use here and there to get us from A to B. Alternatively, it could also be said that bringing this massive network above ground and thrusting it into our vision could serve as a way of saying that New York's subway system is a mess and a serious urban planning overhaul is needed.

METROPCS: THE PURPLE ONE

Unlimited. Open. Free. Liberated. Those are the sentiments seemingly sweeping our nation as of late and they are dovetailing nicely with the brand positioning of mobile provider newcomer, MetroPCS. For years consumers have gotten used to the idea that all mobile network providers are evil because they nickel and dime you with fees. In the past five or so years, however, we've become accustomed to the freedoms of the internet: free tv shows, free music, free socialization, and free information. MetroPCS has successfully capitalized on this consumer expectation in positioning their company as unlimited.

The only thing that is squelching their development: their name and visual identity. Verizon. Sprint. AT&T. T-Mobile. Easy and recognizable names. MetroPCS consists of a much too broad and mobile-unrelated word forced together with an unimpressive acronym resulting in five syllable meaninglessness.

I can deal with the tagline. And I even like the colour palette: it holds its own position against red, yellow, blue and pink despite its limited swatches of purple, lavender and white. But the logo really needs some help. The lightweight type of the PCS makes it stand out as an unmatching addition that you want to cut off from "metro." What is its purpose, anyway? I can't even find out what it stands for -- pretty cheap sh!t? personal communication service? In an already crowded field they really need to refine their brand.

BLUE AND ORANGE

Direct mail from Tropicana and Shop & Stop

Trop50. Yep, the logo is still subordinate to the "50% less sugar" type. Actually, the Tropicana logo is missing entirely from the front of the carton and is replaced by a Trop50 logo. My favourite part: since real oranges don't appear on the packaging, the designer had to include them next to the carton.

LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT ME

Pepsi billboard. Near Astor Place in New York, 2009.

Enough with the criticism of Arnell's Pepsi re-branding. First of all, the logo itself is a nice contemporary update of the old early 2000s trend of making logos 3-D with elaborate gradients. This 2-D logo not only stands out from all of the gradient junk out there, but it also seems illustrated as opposed to photographed, which lends it more artistic worth. Moreover, it is very economical in that it does not require different versions for different materials (e.g. an embroidered logo can't be 3-D; it would need a flat vector version). The "pepsi" type treatment, however? Well that's a different story. The type is far too feminine and delicate and so does not fit with the inherent in-your-face caffeinated energetic fizzy nature of soda, which creates a disconnect in the mind of the consumer. I'm hoping they phase it out once the logo proliferates society. OOH was a great choice to start this new campaign since it attains millions of impressions in a short period of time.

NYC billboards are everywhere and are clutter within a city of clutter. Many of them might get a second or two of a passerby's attention, but these Pepsi billboards are impossible to not notice. They're clean, simple and direct. And they're innovative. While most billboards make sure to jam in a logo, an image, and seven words of copy, Pepsi's ad trims the fat so well that it includes the logo within the copy all while establishing a new colour palette that, due to the billboard's scale, makes it easier to associate the colours with the brand itself as opposed to just the ad. Refreshing.

A VISCERAL EXPERIENCE, PUNK

This web site promoting the movie Crank: High Voltage (2009) caught my attention because I had similar idea last year for Verizon when they had The Dark Knight (2008) promotion: a Facebook application that "Jokerizes" your profile without you knowing how it alters the content of your page. Crank's site is a really good example of an interactive experience done right. It promotes the movie, offers connectivity to the social big three (facebook, myspace and twitter), integrates phygital (iphone), and offers a very deep user experience through the contest's Facebook application. The application promotes mayhem by bringing fourteen days of "high voltage" chaos to your page in the form of shocking videos, status updates, etc. that capitalize on the target's attraction to extreme visceral experiences.

The design of the site plays into this desire for the extreme by using bold, in-your-face colours (yellow and red) along with chunky large type on a sinister black background. The use of black and white photography emphasizes the grittiness and drama of the movie while the layout and pop-up windows are reminiscent of a power plant or some other dangerous locale.

www.crank2.com/mayhemcontest

REVOLTINGLY ALLURING

Fink, Aaron. Lincoln, 2009. Oil on linen, 60" x 72.".

Aaron Fink (b. 1955) knows texture. His vaguely Op Art style subject matter is evolving from revoltingly alluring still life to revoltingly alluring portraiture. Fink's still life works are atypical in their appearance, for it is generally thought that food -- no matter how depicted -- should look edible and delicious. While we are used to seeing photographs of food more so than paintings of food, the idea of manipulating the ideal delicious-looking food to appear grotesque distorts our established visual lexicon. This distortion makes us uncomfortable with feelings of repulsion, yet we are simultaneously attracted to these paintings with their vibrating lines, strong afterimages and arresting colour palettes. Fink makes a ripe strawberry become deadened, dark and melted with textured chromatic vibration as though someone deflated and mashed it by pulling the life out of it. Such a treatment robs the fruit of its conventional identity and gives it a new one. Fink's work begs the question: why should we always depict things in their most beautiful states?

This question becomes infinitely more interesting in light of Fink's move into portraiture of, for example, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. We are used to seeing these men in their most heroic and strong representations, as our currency and every U.S. History textbook confirms. To remember these figures as heroic like their portraits appear is a farce. As much as we may not want to admit it, someone like Lincoln was human and therefore not impervious to weakness, failure and disappointment. Fink exposes this truth by beating up the canvas with smears, drips, scrapes and smudges to remind us that just because the image is not perfect doesn't mean the person is worth any less or not worth seeing in an imperfect light.

THAT OBSCURE OBJECT OF DESIRE: BRILLIANT MASTERPIECE

It’s not a movie. Not a motion picture. It’s a work of art in motion. That Obscure Object of Desire (1977) by Luis Buñuel has the rare trait of under-dialogue. This can be explained as a story and visual back and forth in the form of back-to-back contradiction that is not apparent on the surface while watching the film; it is witnessed by the unconscious or carefully attentive mind of the viewer. This duality is alluded to by the use of black and white in the film. For example, Conchita wears a black and white top and carries a black and white bag: the black and white is indicative of polar opposites. That Obscure Object also did something no other film did before: have two actresses play the same role without at all acknowledging this as though it doesn't happen. But that’s not the only first.

Buñuel’s film isn’t just a film. It is a work of fine art. And to accent his interest in classifying it as art, Buñuel placed his friend Salvador Dali’s paintings (they’re barely visible in the frame, but so obviously his style) into the set of the bedroom during Mathieu and Conchita’s honeymoon. Their existence in the mise-en-scene is a subtle reference to the use of Surrealist automatism as storytelling as opposed to the film being strictly conscious filmmaking.

Buñuel, whose camera was his paintbrush, just let his unconscious run wild. He shot in the moment without numbered shots or any planning. That way it was stream of consciousness and truly fine art.

Visual transitions that are more interesting than match-on-action shots get us from one scene to another. Usually a transition appears as a quick fade or even just a cut separating two scenes; this is what contemporary bourgeois directors like Spielberg and Ridley Scott use. Buñuel, however, employs a more creative approach. He may have a character speaking in front of a not readily apparent portion of the background, say in front of a landscape painting featuring an aqueduct. Then all of a sudden we’re looking at a shot of a real aqueduct. It’s not a painting; it’s the camera planted in front of the aqueduct so our new scene is of the aqueduct.

Terrorism is a major theme in the film. It comes in and out throughout the entire length of the film, as though it is a thought or a panicked worry cropping up here and there in someone’s mind. It behaves like a thought: transient, but always there haunting you every now and then like a worry. And we all know how negative worrying can be for your health. Which is why, yep, our characters die in the end because of terrorists. But the funny thing is, we the viewers are thrilled because the film is over! The back and forth tease finally ends and we are relieved.

Much like deja vu, these random terrorist worries and neuroses together function as a type of foreshadowing. First we hear the conversation in the scene in which Mathieu first meets Conchita as the maid. Then we see through a POV shot that Mathieu is reading a newspaper with the headline, “Jet Blown Up By Terrorists. 290 Dead.” Wait, why 290? As noted above, Mathieu and Conchita get killed by terrorists in the end, so it’s not 290 people, but rather our two people. Just add 2 plus 9 and you get 11, which is visually 1 and 1… Mathieu and Conchita.

Making of the film: Jean-Claude Carriére and Buñuel collaborated so closely to make this work of art (true partners work together 50/50) that they lived together in an isolated location while staying in small monk-like cells adjacent to each other. The two artists ate all of their meals together and had designated brainstorm times as well as brief alone time. The process from there is unbelievable. While they lived, they lived the screenplay. In those close quarters they were the actors, writing from their own perspectives and viewpoints as the actors. But aren’t the actors supposed to act out what the writer and director already have? Yes. But the director is god. As such, Buñuel made this sentiment clear by acting before the actors get to acting. He is the original. The 360-degree, all-encompassing god and auteur of the film. They just let the unconscious run wild. And it turned out that two men living closely together all alone for a long period of time is surprisingly similar to a married couple. Whoa.

TV MAY BE TRADITIONAL, BUT THIS SPOT ISN'T

Finally. A TV commercial that didn't cast for the typical and overseen white nuclear family of four: mom, dad and two kids. This T-Mobile spot gives viewers the real deal -- a single dad.

PEOPLE ARE STILL SMOKING??

Over the past few years in New York the decrease in smoking has been evident in the wake of the ban on smoking in bars and restaurants, but that's not enough. The above campaign assumes a different position than those created by organizations like Truth by not condemning smoking, but by offering the help to quit. By now we all know how bad smoking is for you -- it's utterly absurd and crazy to ignore the adverse effects smoking has on your body. The NYCgo people have tapped into this evolved mentality and are extending the effort by offering to actually help people quit. This is great. But the media buy? Not so great.

NYCgo could be utilizing other media to communicate their message of help since a subway turnstile is not a visible media placement, especially considering the crowded nature of subways and the rapidity with which people move to get out of the subway and to their destination.

If they really wanted to use a turnstile, it could have at least been more creative in, say, making the bar into a cigarette with a line like, "PUSH SMOKING OUT OF YOUR LIFE" or "PUSH THEM OUT FOR GOOD" or "WE'LL GIVE YOU THAT EXTRA PUSH." And to take advantage of a tight physical space, a microsite with more information on exactly how NYC can help you quit could have been developed with the same name as the headline for economy of space (e.g. PushThemOutForGood.com). Also, I don't know about anyone else, but I can't dial 311 from my cell phone.

Another way to communicate their message could have been a creative sampling to show how NYC can help you kick the habit. I think the city offers free Nicorette/Nicoderm, and placing samples of these things in ashtrays on bar counters could also drive the message more directly to the smoker populace.

An additional avenue could be to advertise on something every smoker needs: matches. A special matchbook could be developed for dispersement at drug stores and bodegas that appears to be a normal book on the outside, but on the inside the sticks could resemble individual cigarettes so that when someone tears a stick out, it is as if the cigarette is torn in half. This could be paired with relevant messaging on the inside cover of the matchbook.

Jus' sayin'.

HEATING UP THE PROCESS

Klein, Yves. Fire Painting, Untitled, c. 1960. mixed media, apprx 35" x 61".

Yves Klein began his foray into his famous Fire Paintings by igniting firecrackers that were attached on a canvas at an exhibition opening. This one, which was created in the early 1960s, made use of paint, water splashes, and of course a good flamethrower. The yellow paint is a naturally perfect colour for contrast to the dark browns of the burn. Klein is not just burning the canvas, but could be exploring the idea of deliberately "burning" or melting -- and therefore disposing of -- gold, or worth and value. Sounds masochistic.

While still about the beauty of the finished painting, the process takes precedence here: the power of hurling hot fire onto a canvas and burning your composition by teasing it destructively and dangerously makes for both exciting art and artist.

BLUE AND ORANGE

Almost made me consider a different blog host. Really.

CALL THE MOVING COMPANY

This house, designed by architectural firm Marmol Radziner, is a tight and modular Bauhaus-style work of art located in Venice, CA. The sharpness and hard lines of the exterior are mirrored in the interior. On the ground floor a sliding slotted screen, retaining walls, and narrow and high horizontal windows assist in maintaining privacy. On the top floor, however, floor-to-ceiling windows generously allow the outside in while their panes subscribe to a visually pleasing 1:3 ratio. The dining room windows have the same 1:3 ratio while doubling their function (how very economical) to act not just as windows and light bearers, but as picture windows and a scenic backdrop in lieu of conventional dining room wall ornamentation like a painting. Because that would be, well, oh so bourgeois.

The interior is endowed with rich, open-grain walnut cabinetry, which is complemented by clean white walls and counters. Like any Bauhaus design, this house keeps things to a minimum without all those undesirable bourgeois details. Even the lighting is recessed into the ceiling for a smooth, uninterrupted appearance. The floors are underdone in poured cement in the common areas while the more intimate areas of the house like the bathrooms and bedrooms have hickory hardwood floors. The architect must have wanted to soften the more personal rooms, but didn't want to stray info superfluous territory, so used a wood that is hard like concrete to keep the density consistent throughout the house. Additionally, these materials -- concrete and hickory -- are incredibly durable and strong and therefore make for a very rational house.

While the piéce de résistance is the exterior slotted shade, the colour palette is really quite remarkable both on the interior and exterior. The interior relies on a streamlined palette that carries through each room: white, brown walnut, light gray and black. The exterior is without embellishment and so assumes its natural surroundings as part of its palette, which is composed of dark brown, green and blue. Stunning.

DE KOONING, THE EXCEPTION

De Kooning, Willem. Seated Woman, 1940. 36" x 54"

While I would normally be posting something like this in the BLUE AND ORANGE category, this early de Kooning uses that colour combination to a mocking advantage. The subject of the female figure came to define de Kooning -- later on in full bloom with the "bitch goddess" Woman I and Woman II -- and this oil painting, emerging from stiff, drab portraits of men, is one of his very first Women.

De Kooning possessed an acute discomfort with women, stemming from his having a cruel and abusive histrionic mother who gave him a rough upbringing in the tenements of Rotterdam. This hatred and fear of his mother flowed into De Kooning's painted women of the 1950s; they appeared at once fecund, yet monstrous and omnivorous, full of anger and intimidation. Seated Woman, above, precludes the later Woman paintings, but shows the beginnings of their tension, in this instance evoked through the pairing of blue and orange.

At this point in his life, de Kooning was starting to fall in love with his muse, Elaine. Something was awakened inside de Kooning; he began to dip into the fleshy pink colour that was later laced through his Woman paintings, even slathering Elaine's apartment in the colour. Perhaps the mounting cold, dark clouds of World War II pushed him to look for warm emotions and maternal security. Posing as the subject, Elaine is depicted with 16th-century style clothing that suggestively exposes her long neck and soft, open chest, which together with long, curved lines evokes a sense of romanticism and desire. The background becomes so ancillary that it is as if it was not paid any attention to; the focus here is on the figure. And focus he would... de Kooning and Elaine married three years later.