Back before the iPad was revealed, Berg and Bonnier sent us a concept predicting the very same, exploring, in particular, its implications for the digital publishing of periodicals. You can see that video here.
It's interesting to review the reader comments from that post, given what we know now. Michael Janzen commented that, "If the predictions are correct Apple will continue to move into the old-school digital and print world drawing in new customers and inadvertently putting the old-schoolers out of business simply by following a steeper innovation curve." And J.R. points out that "something like this will only succeed with the blessing of strong, strategic partners such as the remaining magazine dynasties and other publishers, a la itunes arrangement with record labels."
Well, it's only been a few months, but the announcement of the iPad gave the Mag+ development team their chance to make this thing real. Though it may not put magazines out of business yet, they've certainly succeeded in teaming up with said strategic partners— the April issue of Popular Science is the first to be digitized for the iPad in this way. Downloadable from, yes, iTunes, the magazine goes live tomorrow, and may be a nice way to immediately test out the iPad's multi-touch chops.
Above, Bonnier demonstrates Popular Science +, including dog-earing and background obfuscation, and discusses the new opportunities for art direction that Mag+ presents.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Sruli Recht has a strange sense of humor. We journalists were at a party at the Iceland Design Center when one of the partygoers had a bit too much Brennavin, sat on an unstable table laden with bottles of red wine, and sent the whole thing crashing noisily to the ground. Recht walked in right about that time; spied the huge puddles of red liquid all over the ground; pulled a camera out of his pocket, pressed it into someone's hands, and hit the deck to pose for a crime-scene photo:
[image courtesy Brian Fichtner]
[image courtesy Brian Fichtner]
I remember the day I realized that my computer—at that time, a Mac Classic—was not only alive, but also earnest and lovely. Granted, it was a bit clumsy, with cherry bombs popping up more often than not, but clumsy like a beagle—great company, unstoppable fun, only please make sure the good crockery is under lock and slip-cover the good couch.
That was not my first time and it was not the last. My home is my personal petting zoo. The street, a Looney Tunes movie where fire hydrants and traffic lights come alive and talk to me. I thank my lucky star for helping me find the right outlet for what could have otherwise become an embarrassing disorder. Instead of ending on TV with Lindsay Lohan as a risible example of pathological hoarder, I have become a highly respected curator of things. Not "stuff," don't you dare. They are always things, or objects.
That was not my first time and it was not the last. My home is my personal petting zoo. The street, a Looney Tunes movie where fire hydrants and traffic lights come alive and talk to me. I thank my lucky star for helping me find the right outlet for what could have otherwise become an embarrassing disorder. Instead of ending on TV with Lindsay Lohan as a risible example of pathological hoarder, I have become a highly respected curator of things. Not "stuff," don't you dare. They are always things, or objects.
I remember the day I realized that my computer—at that time, a Mac Classic—was not only alive, but also earnest and lovely. Granted, it was a bit clumsy, with cherry bombs popping up more often than not, but clumsy like a beagle—great company, unstoppable fun, only please make sure the good crockery is under lock and slip-cover the good couch.
That was not my first time and it was not the last. My home is my personal petting zoo. The street, a Looney Tunes movie where fire hydrants and traffic lights come alive and talk to me. I thank my lucky star for helping me find the right outlet for what could have otherwise become an embarrassing disorder. Instead of ending on TV with Lindsay Lohan as a risible example of pathological hoarder, I have become a highly respected curator of things. Not "stuff," don't you dare. They are always things, or objects.
That was not my first time and it was not the last. My home is my personal petting zoo. The street, a Looney Tunes movie where fire hydrants and traffic lights come alive and talk to me. I thank my lucky star for helping me find the right outlet for what could have otherwise become an embarrassing disorder. Instead of ending on TV with Lindsay Lohan as a risible example of pathological hoarder, I have become a highly respected curator of things. Not "stuff," don't you dare. They are always things, or objects.
his year in Milan, Droog presents Saved by Droog, in which 5135 items saved from liquidation sales were presented to 14 designers as raw materials. The result is 19 new products, each available for immediate purchase in editions dictated by the limitations of the liquidation lot.
For example, according to Droog's brand-new and barely populated blog, designer Eric Klarenbeek produced something from over 200 of the salt shakers pictured below. It's like Supernormal meets Martino Gamper, Droog style.
For example, according to Droog's brand-new and barely populated blog, designer Eric Klarenbeek produced something from over 200 of the salt shakers pictured below. It's like Supernormal meets Martino Gamper, Droog style.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
stumple upon has everything!
transformation from Andre B on Vimeo.
German artist, Andre Baran has created a stunning animation based on the idea: “What complexity fits in a Sphere?”
Andre writes:
The theme of this study is the mechanical transformation, a change of the form. The 5 items that have arisen here, fall back in form and process of change on analogies from nature. A sphere, the simplest geometric shape that we know, serves as a starting form.
It was made in CAD Software (SolidWorks and Rhino) an than imported in Blender for mapping, lightning and animation.
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