This week, I have mostly been:

  • posting bits and bobs on FormFiftyFive
  • coming to terms with the fact that my eighteen year-old set of Pantone swatches probably needs replacing
  • accused of being inspirational on siteinspire, simple on siiimple, and a heavy eyeful on HeavyEyes
  • quite liking the new Jarvis Cocker album
  • producing a ridiculous number of leaflets and postcards and posters
  • waiting hopefully, patiently, for more comments on my DRB review
  • reading lots of New X-Men
  • continuing to wonder if anything is ever going to happen with the Times’ Crash competition
  • inventing WiiFat and then deciding it probably won’t work
  • looking forward to seeing how my Gym Class article is going to look (issue three out soon people – you know you want it!)
  • venting on Twitter
  • loving Lost and then weeping into my Dharma overalls once I realised I have to wait until next year before I can watch it again
  • eating lots of lovely take-out with lovely Dr B
  • wondering how Debra has managed to stay on The Apprentice
  • getting excited about space.

100 Greatest Albums Ever … ish

Incredibly off-topic (as if I ever stick to one topic), but I just spotted this: the top five from MTV’s 100 Greatest Albums Ever poll:

  1. Michael Jackson – Thriller

  2. Craig David – Born to Do It

  3. Guns ‘N’ Roses – Appetite for Destruction

  4. Radiohead – OK Computer

  5. Nirvana – Nevermind

A slow hand clap for Craig David’s management. Good luck with that telephone bill.

York needs

Being a touristtown, York is pretty well served for food, drink, culture and shopping. Despite/because of this, I find there are some glaring omissions from our streets – places that other cities have, places that would seem to fit naturally into the York way of life. There is only one way to remedy this situation: a hastily conceived list.

Establishments that York desperately needs:

<p?Canteen
Simple, amazing food. Why should London have all the fun?

Urban Outfitters
Hmm … might be a bad idea … Dr B might end up spending all of our money within an hour of it opening. Probably best to keep it at a safe distance.

Tootsies
Just so I can get my weekly fix of their amazing Eggs Benedict.

YO! Sushi
My first Yo Sushi experience involved me spilling half my dinner onto the conveyor belt, then watching as the big green mess – my big green mess – went past every single diner in the place for fifteen minutes. Despite this ignominy, I love the place. Not only is the food good, but you can make amazing conveyor-belt movies while you eat.

Magma
Amazing design bookshop. One of those places that, despite being the size of a broom cupboard, I try to visit whenever I’m in London. For some reason I think the York branch should be housed on a boat. Not sure why.

LEGO shop
Simply because the whole LEGO pick n’ mix concept makes me happy.

Impressions Gallery
This was a great photography gallery that used to be in York, but for some stupid reason they upped sticks and moved to Bradford. Stupid Bradford.

Case Study Houses

My current obsession: Case Study Houses of the 40s, 50s and 60s. If you don’t know what these are, here’s the definition I found on Wikipedia:

“The Case Study Houses were experiments in American residential architecture sponsored by John Entenza’s (later David Travers’) Arts & Architecture magazine, which commissioned major architects of the day, including Richard Neutra, Raphael Soriano, Craig Ellwood, Charles and Ray Eames, Pierre Koenig and Eero Saarinen, to design and build inexpensive and efficient model homes for the United States residential housing boom caused by the end of World War II and the return of millions of soldiers.”

So anyway, I’m obsessed. This is basically because a couple of weeks ago, Dr B and I were in the Tate Modern bookshop and came across Taschen’s new box set of Arts and Architecture reprints. It is amazing.

It is also £400.

I’ve spent pretty much every day since trying to work out how I can justify this expense. Current justifications:

  • I can afford it if I sell my collection of The Face magazine
  • I might possibly want to write about Case Study Houses On Film for a PhD that I might one day want to do maybe
  • I like arts and architecture – it’d be stupid not to buy it.

In the meantime, I’ll just scatter a few pictures of the houses on here.

This week, I have mostly been:

  • cutting out all coffee, booze, etc. in a major detoxification attempt
  • discovering the meaning of Sunday afternoons (Fellowship Of The Ring plus cream cakes)
  • getting lots of post
  • celebrating Dr B’s birthday (which involved eating, shopping and whistle-blowing)
  • playing with Tumblr’s queue feature
  • printing out a LOT of mock-ups on wonderful wonderful Cyclus Offset
  • harassing D&AD and Creative Review
  • publicly mocked for not looking my age … which I think is a compliment
  • educating Dr B in the ways of The Dude
  • started work on a new map, but not the new map that I wanted to start work on
  • somehow managing to keep up to date with The Apprentice, Mad Men and Lost
  • reaching the end of my home-made Tom Gauld desk calendar.

Top five Harrison Ford hand-acting moments

I was watching The Fugitive last week and it confirmed something that I’ve long suspected: Harrison Ford is the greatest Hand-Actor in the world. Ever.

Now I don’t think Ford is an actor of great range. His career can basically be broken down into two pre- and post-Fugitive eras: smirky and frowny. He does have a shedload of charisma though, and most of this can be found in his incredible hands. Observe:

1. Blade Runner
When Rutger Hauer breaks his fingers in the final chase scene, Ford practically invents a new thespian art. The only way Hauer can compete is by ramming a nail through his palm.

2. Raiders Of The Lost Ark
The whole swapping-the-idol thing at the beginning is a masterclass in defining a character with a few simple gestures. Even better is later on when he’s hiding on the ship and all you see are his hands appearing from that pipe, one finger at a time.

3. Temple Of Doom/Empire Strikes Back
The Harrison Ford school of piloting. If something isn’t working, just tap the dial a few times. Then panic.

4. Return Of The Jedi
Leia and Han reprise the whole “I love you/I know” exchange, only this time Ford uses his deft sleight-of-hand to cop a feel.

5. The Fugitive
 The hands are particularly tense and shaky in this one, and there’s a few choice moments. Probably the best is when he throws his arm through a closing door and generously gives his right hand a few moments of solo screen time. It steals the show, but the Academy gave the best supporting Oscar to Tommy Lee Jones instead. Idiots.

GCM #2

The second issue of the rather excellent Gym Class Magazine launched at Colophon a couple of weeks ago. Amongst other articles (including a particulalry good article on typography and gender by Michael Bojkowski, with sleepy commuter pics by Steven Mills), there’s a Q+A with little ol’ me, accompanied by a specially made infographic “Accomplishments in masculinity, by Commander James Bond”.

Go but yourself a copy now. Go on now.

This week, I have mostly been:

  • discovering that I’m a member of D&AD (can I have my Annual now please?)
  • getting myself a lovely Panasonic LX3 … and trying to work out how to do anything with it
  • exploring London town
  • shaving
  • getting all kinds of excited about Where The Wild Things Are
  • surprisingly organised at work
  • trying to work out if I can justify spending £400 on reprints of 50s/60s issues of Arts and Architecture
  • converting Dr B into an Apprentice fan
  • listening to REM, A Camp, Nine Inch Nails and pretty much anything involving Damon Albarn
  • launching the most exciting thing to happen to the Internet this year: the one and only, the unmistakable Binky Guestbook
  • looking forward to Dr B’s birthday weekend (and not just because it involves a ridiculous amount of pizza).

Helix House and the heinous H

Okay, so this has been bugging me all week. The other day, our neighbouring office put up a new sign. Nothing particularly special about it, but I couldn’t stop looking at it … there was something wrong … something …

And then I saw it. One of the H’s is upside down. I’m guessing it’s the second one. See – the crossbar is slightly lower. It’s one of those things that isn’t immediately apparent, but it’s just enough to make the whole thing look wonky and irritating. It’s a bit like Shannon Doherty and her whole one-eye-lower-than-the-other thing.

And now I don’t know what to do about it. I’m sure if I just wandered into their reception and told the receptionist about it, I’d be greeted with a confused, pitying look. Should I send them a note? Is there a Royal Society for the Protection of Type I could contact?

I have to do something. I can see it out the window. It’s looking at me.

Weekend in the city

Dr B and I have just spent a rather excellent weekend in London. One of the highlights of our adventure was exploring Spitalfields market and eating at the excellent Canteen. As well as a menu packed to the gills with loveliness (scotch egg with piccalilli? Yes please), I was particularly taken with the design by Hudson-Powell.

Other highlights: picking up a Jack Dylan poster in the market (from the man himself), peering through the windows of Wieden+Kennedy and getting lost amidst the shiny, deserted architecture of the city.

Good times.

This week, I have mostly been:

  • being a little bit disappointed with my new Moleskine (stupidly bought “notebook” instead of “sketch book” – more pages, but they’re way too thin)
  • sitting through all of Beck’s dirgy Chemtrails to discover there’s actually a really good bit at the very end
  • getting older
  • chopping off hair
  • rediscovering pâté
  • learning how to spell pâté
  • the last person on Earth to discover that the BBC’s iPlayer is really rather spiffing
  • wondering how to respond to this design brief: “please design this”
  • spotting the first bits of blossom in the trees (I get quite excited by the onset spring)
  • reading about astronauts.

Thirty-One

Yesterday, I had a bloody good birthday. Big thanks to everyone for being lovely, particularly Dr B, who has now raised the bar so high that for her birthday my only option is to fake my own kidnapping and go into hiding for three months. Again.

Anyway, here are some of the bloody good things I got:

  • The Stanley Kubrick Archives
  • a haircut
  • a toothbrush-holding robot
  • half a duck
  • cakes aplenty
  • Type Trumps
  • a LEGO USB stick
  • a Design Museum voucher
  • Watching the Watchmen
  • a pedicure
  • horribly painfully drunk.

Plus I watched Tremors for the squillionth time. Bloody good day.

This week, I have mostly been:

  • learning the word “manicule”
  • preparing mind for overseeing imminent magazine relaunch
  • really getting into Lost – so much so that I’m now getting old episodes from iTunes and inserting them into the current series to act as handy flashbacks
  • really giving up on Heroes
  • amazed at how much some people love petty bureaucracy
  • watching and loving a live broadcast of the New York Metropolitan Opera’s Madame Butterfly at City Screen (very posh – wore a suit and drank bubbly and everything)
  • loving the new Yeah Yeah Yeah’s album (and being a little confused by the lyric “It’s Derek!”)
  • looking forward to the second issue of Gym Class Magazine
  • eagerly awaiting a velcro-based lawsuit scandal at the Beeb
  • wishing I was at Colophon2009 or the D&AD Peter Saville talk
  • listening to the incredibly clever Stanley L Witkin with the incredibly clever Dr B
  • getting a little obsessy about manicules.

Rob Reiner, what happened?

Dr B and I watched Stand By Me yesterday. Great film. Did you know that between 1984 and 1992, Rob Reiner made This Is Spinal Tap, The Sure Thing, Stand By Me, The Princess Bride, When Harry Met Sally, Misery and A Few Good Men? That’s seven classics in eight years.

And then it all went North.

I can’t think of any other film-maker with that kind of run of consistent amazingness. Not Spielberg. Not Hitchcock. Not McG. Kubrick maybe, but that was over the course of approximately a thousand years. Reiner just churned out one era-defining gem after another. Amazing.

That is all.

This week, I have mostly been:

  • seeing more members of my family than I was able to shake a stick at
  • sniffing some fresh postcards
  • coming to terms with the fact that the new Red Dwarf episodes might be worth watching
  • discussing spirit photography/religion/Cloverfield with some awfully clever people
  • slowly and painfully perfecting the art of M&S instant pancakes
  • wondering how much is too much to spend on a case for a camera that I can’t afford
  • staring slack-jawed at Don Draper’s unique negotiating style
  • singing “We Didn’t Start The Fire” by Billy Joel quite a lot
  • making Dr B watch Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (and if you haven’t seen it, WHY NOT?).

Thumbs down to the Brits

I watched the Brits last night. They were not good. Some thoughts:

1. It was hosted by a young Paul Shane and someone from a Showaddywaddy tribute band, both of whom went to great lengths to avoid anything resembling humour. Oh, and Kylie, going through the motions (did you know this is the 47th Brits she’s attended? Yeah, you’d look bored too).

2. Take That descending from the ceiling to mime whilst dress as Joe 90 clones was just a bit weird.

3. This year’s Craaazy Unexpected Pairing was … are you ready for this? … just a lot of old noise. The Ting Tings and and a creepy marionete version of Estelle sang over each other’s songs in a bid to eek out another few minutes of popularity. It’s not exactly PJ Harvey and Bjork covering the Rolling Stones now is it?

4. Actually, it was quite fun trying to work out which acts are going to have vanished off the face of the earth in a year’s time. “Most” was the correct answer.

5. Kanye West rambling on about what the word “best” means was quite funny. He’s really quite geeky, isn’t he?

6. Scouting For Girls? Scouting For Girls? Why?

7. The Pet Shop Boys were amazing. As were Iron Maiden. Didn’t they have sensible shoes?

8. Exactly who decides who won what is becoming increasingly elaborate and pointless: “And now for the Best Welsh Solo Artist Award, as voted for by the people of Bexleyheath. By text message. On Tuesday afternoon.”

9a. In order to show up the two pathetic little boys on stage, we can only hope and pray that there was some kind of über-manly Tom Jones/David Hasselhoff spat backstage. Probably over the virtue of Pet Shop Boys’ Barbie-singer-lady. Dr B suggested that an even more amazing sight would be a Jones/Hoff thumb-war …

9b. … which gives me an idea. Rather then spending oodles of cash on one bloated embarrassing night that in no way reflects the fact that the music industry is actually a bit different now to how it was ten years ago, ITV should produce Pro-Celebrity Thumbwars. Just five minutes, once a week, and the whole thing scored by an exclusive song by the most zeitgeisty act of the moment. The competitors would be announced just a day in advance, pairings like Henry Winkler versus Seal; Lars von Trier versus Richard Roundtree; Angela Lansbury versus Craig Charles. This has the potential to be so very amazing that it might even herald in a new age of peace and enlightenment.

10. If nothing else proves that the Brits are completely out of touch and redundant, then consider this: Girls Aloud won a Brit. One. Their first one ever. In six years. How bloody ridiculous.

This week, I have mostly been:

  • working out exactly how stupid Luke Skywalker is in Return Of The Jedi
  • being amazed with iTunes’ Genius facility
  • welcoming the return of Mad Men
  • saving Academics
  • having a higher opinion of Bolt than the rest of the world (the ever tasteful Dr B excluded)
  • discovering the sample holy grail that is Isaac Hayes’ Ike’s Rap II
  • trying not to succumb to Foolish Designer Shopping Syndrome and spending £25 on a notepad
  • patiently waiting for my new camera
  • getting the hang of tweeting
  • tidying my desk … I know I left it here somewhere …