Familiar, but not the same.

I love stickback chairs. If you are using solid wood (as opposed to metal or plywood or plastic), its probably the lightest, strongest way to build a chair. And, as is so often the case, that kind of efficiency exudes elegance. That's what good modernism does--express a synergy between materials, structure, form and people.

But sometimes modernism can get a bit sterile. Too much uniformity and austerity lacks warmth. I was lucky enough to visit the Eames House a few years ago and was taken aback by two things. One, it was small! They built it on a budget, and knew how to extract the most from the grand and cozy spaces they created. But the other thing was that it was a really, really warm feeling place. Ray and Charles appreciated that synergy between materials, form and people--not a particular style. That synergy permeated everything they did, and the objects and architecture they surrounded themselves with.

This family of stickback chairs by Lina Nordquist has that sense of warmth to me. They're mismatched enough to feel different from each other--but all have their own internal logic. It feels like a family--not a clone army. I like that. Its warm.

The Tenth Dimension and How to Get There...

Wow. This is the best, most visual, explanation of the 10 dimensions (eleven if you count dimension 0) that encompass Everything with a capital E. Everything (with a capital E) is all possible timelines in all possible universes--the dimension that the super strings vibrate in.

When I was in High School, my outstanding geometry teacher (and dashiki wearing, former rocket scientist) Ed Murrell recommended that we read Flatland to help us to imagine the leap from 3 to 4 dimensions, and beyond. At the same time, I was obsessed with physics in general. I had been exposed to the very fine info-comic Einstein for Beginners, which was helping me to begin a lifelong struggle to grasp the interconnectedness of time, space and probability. Then in college, I read The Fourth Dimension by Rudy Rucker. And that really blew my mind.

But I guess the lasting impression of this journey is my continuing awe at the possibility of the universe (or should I say, universes). Just as Neanderthals probably thought fire was magic, this stuff seems absolutely fantastical, especially if you are, like me, a visual and tactile thinker. But this movie really gets it right. Stick with it, you'll be glad you did.

Genius Loci

My old pal Maria Mortati is an exhibit designer and curator, in addition to being just generally hilarious, sweet and brilliant. I've contributed to things she has curated before like her awesome book and Maker Faire exhibition Power of the Prototype last year and the Bay area Furniture Art Show, back in 2003. So when she asked me to contribute something for her latest show Looking for Loci, I was happy to help out. But this time, I got the whole family involved.

Let me back up a little. Looking for Loci is a show about capturing the feel of a place that is really special to you. Everyone involved created a little diorama in a box (provided by Maria) in which to capture what was special about your Loci. I managed to turn this call for entries into an enforced family art day (what could be more fun?). When I asked my daughter Dinah what place is really special to her, first she said "going to sushi". When I asked for a place that was not a restaurant, she burst forth with this fantastic and magical scenario.

If I could go anywhere I would get shrunk down really small and live in a rabbit hutch. I would ride the bunnies all day long. And at night I would sleep with my head on their fluffy tails.

My wife, Rebecca was more concise.

Its the fridge. It contains life's greatest joys.

My loci was "in my head."

Sadly, my Genius Loci is in my head, which is like a big cluttered workshop with partially finished projects lying around all over the place. I go there to relax, pick up one of those dusty projects and putter. Sometimes things get done, sometimes I just make a bigger mess. I should probably get out more.

In any case, the project was a lot of fun. And the show is going kick off its SF debut at the Studio for Urban Projects on August 28th. So check it out.

Turbines, Hot Rods and the Optimism of the Space Age

Back when space suits had laces on them, the world seemed to be careening towards the future in a way that car geeks could understand. Rockets and spyplanes were all about horsepower and plexiglas bubbles. Who knew that in the 21st century, you'd be using all that space technology to tell several hundred of your closest friends that you are waiting in line for a latte.

But I digress. In the 50s and 60s cars wanted to be airplanes and airplanes wanted to be rocket ships. So why mess around with some steam age relic like a piston engine? You need a turbine, man! Indy cars had had them. Chrysler was even trying to make a passenger car with a jet engine in it (which ran on almost anything, from vegtable oil to Tequila!). So it only makes sense that regular guys would be trying to power their choppers and hydroplanes with them. If you are crazy enough to make a turbine dragster, why not make it a 3 wheeler? Or you could upholster your battery box on your to match your turbine-cycle's ridiculously long seat. Why not? You're already a certified nut job. Here are the rest of the images. Thanks Boing Boing!

Pink Pyramid Passes On

It has been over 8 years since I first stepped into this freaky pink pyramid, rising from the Michigan prairie. Steelcase's Development center is one of the weirdest buildings I have ever been in. Its radial symmetry made way-finding baffling at best. Its enormous central pendulum, skimming the surface of a slick black granite fountain was a bizarre centerpiece. But best of all, the tip of the pyramid glowed pink at night, like a beacon of gay pride in the heart of western Michigan. What else could it be?

While its not exactly my favorite building, I was sad to hear that it is being closed down as part of cost cutting at Steelcase. There's a sense of capriciousness that a pink granite pyramid represents that I, for one, will miss. Goodbye pyramid.

Aviation Eye Candy

If you haven't been there, you really should check out xplanes. I don't have any penetrating insights here, besides the fact that the these folks were insane! Hey, isn't that the plane that the six million dollar man crashed in the second and third picture from top?

Be sure to check out the tag "nobody died." You gotta go one way or another! Unless of course, you are Steve Austin.

Surfing into the Future

Surfboards are an ancient design. Nobody knows for sure when pacific islanders first started riding logs in the waves, but it was a while ago. And the recipe has been fairly consistent. Sure there have been variations in nose and tail shape, and various fin configurations, but that basic canoe-shaped slab with convex sides that the ancient Hawaiians invented has held up pretty well.

One of the things I love about surfboards is that they are still largely made by hand, one at a time, by skilled artisan builders. These designer/builders are largely guided by their eye and guesses supported by their experience on the water. So I was really excited to see Thomas Meyerhoffer's work on designboom. (Check out this article in the NYT as well.)

Here is a guy who has worked as a designer at Porsche and Apple, taking a crack at this ancient archetype. This is a classic form as function problem, approached by someone who is clearly facile in both areas. The breakthrough of his design comes from dividing the surfing experience up into two parts; tail riding and nose riding. By redefining the problem, he can see answers that nobody (that we know of) has thought of before. And people have been working on it for a while.

Clients sometimes balk when I suggest that a naive but inquisitive outsider can often see things that established experts miss. Surfing experts know what the acceptable range of surfboard shapes are. A naive outsider can create something unique, and sometimes groundbreaking, because they don't know any better.

Here's Thomas talking about the design in his own words.