My Blog

My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.

I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.

(Dylan Thomas)

Back on the 4th of February of 2006, this blog, in its current configuration, debuted. It has been an interesting ride, even with the two year hiatus in between. Looking now at the blog statistics, we’ve had 218 unique users in the last 24 hours. And that is quite an accomplishment for something that started more as a personal exercise than anything else. I feel happy for this acomplishment. Thank you to all you readers.

Oh, and my friends got me cake today. With candles. Few things beat cake with candles as a surprise. Having friends does.

CONFORMITY
When people are free to do as they please, they usually imitate each other.

Today, someone mentioned to me that no one sings Love as well as the French, while citing Serge Gainsbourg with his muse, Jane Birkin, as an example. I nodded, approvingly, spotting the delicious irony of Jane Birkin being, in fact, British. She still sings Love beautifully, though.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

(Dylan Thomas)

Artist Céleste Boursier-Mougenot devotes himself to transforming the visual world into sound. Underneath you can see an example of precisely that. To tell you the truth, if I didn’t know any better I would believe Frank Zappa had reincarnated as a bird.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=89Kz8Nxb-Bg

“I hope to hell that when I do die somebody has the sense to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetary. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you’re dead? Nobody.”

(J.D. Salinger)

PS: J.D. Salinger has died at age 91.

In 1998, Mark Osborne created what is considered by many to be one of the best short movies ever made. It is called MORE, and brings us the tale of an inventor who lives in a drab, colorless world. The soundtrack, Elegia, is another masterpiece, and was written mid-eighties by New Order in memory of late Ian Curtis.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C8aFxk0aUuU

Color printers are everywhere, nowadays. We no longer think much about them. We just click the print button (or press the CTRL+P keys, as some do), and wait for the results. But what would you say if we could print a 3D object, wait, and after some time be able to hold it in our hands, with (more or less) the same ease as we print a photo?

Yes, technology has progressed to that point. And, courtesy of Paulo Kiefe, from Creative Tools, had access to a ZPrinter 650 from Z Corporation, and was able to try it for myself. We chose a violin model, to test the limits of the device. It was expected that the bow and strings would be tremendously thin due to the scale of the model, so it was fun to see how it would come out. The entire process lasted around two hours, and included preparing the 3D model in a graphic workstation. It must be said that half of that time was waiting for the model to dry out.

Enjoy a sample of the photos. And if you hover over them you will be able to read some captions, by the way.

(click to zoom)

(Poem by Taylor Mali)

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