I was looking through boxes of old photographs the other day and happened upon these pictures from a long ago wedding. At some point in the evening, I lent my camera to Delilah, my cousin’s daughter. She was 6 years old at the time. I didn’t think much of it until I picked up the photographs from the lab (yes, that’s one way it used to be done). At first, I had no idea what I was looking at. But then I remembered that the camera had been out of my possession for a short while…in the hands of a three and a half foot tall child. Wow, I never imagined that a wedding could be all chins, elbows and breasts.
I don’t play games on my phone or tablet. Not because of some principled stance opposing them, or because I think they are boring and repetitive. Nope, my reasoning stems from experience: latent addiction is just waiting to devour all aspects of my life. Enter Catch…an elegant, playful, and visually stunning iOS game designed, developed and coded by Andy Bergmann. Andy is an executive creative director at CNN and all around talented guy. The premise of the game is as simple as it gets: catch the ball. There are no instructions on how to accomplish this simple action. No need. You start tapping and swiping, and soon enough you’ve got it. Until the next level (there are 50), when other objects are introduced into the mix as a means to increase the game’s difficulty. Did I mention that the hand and the objects exist on different 3-dimensional planes? According to Bergmann, “Catch requires an interesting combination of spacial perception and eye-hand coordination.” Catch appeals in large part because of its simplicity and unique graphic sensibility. I see a twelve step program in my future.
Here’s a nice write-up in Fast Co.
To download Catch, click here. Free for a limited time on iTunes.
Well, almost exactly five years and four months to the day from when it opened (yes, I am a little embarrassed about this), my husband and I finally decided to take a stroll on the High Line. It was a perfect early fall morning in NYC: wind blowing, sun shining, thickets of tourists wandering about, and the din of jackhammers and excavation trucks filling the air. The High Line is truly a marvel of architecture, vision and extraordinary landscaping. And yet, I am left feeling that it is a part of a city to which I no longer belong. I know there are a lot of voices on this matter of change, and loss of what was, and I don’t wish to delve into that conversation right now. However, let it be said that, while I don’t necessarily begrudge New York for what she has become, I don’t recognize her any more. In all of the ruminations, I did manage to catch this little snippet of ivy…undulating in the storm.
Hansel and Gretel immediately comes to mind. Or, perhaps a dacha in Russia, after the Bolshevik Revolution. So does Tiny, A Story About Living Small. This house is magical, set back among the white pines. The color scheme is obviously not for everyone, including myself, but it catches me off guard every time I pass it by. It’s the insulation (called “chinking”) between the logs that ultimately draws me in. The bold white lines appeal to my graphic self. Yesterday, as we sped by and I let out my now predictable gasp, P. kindly turned around and pulled off the road so I could traipse onto the property for a few close-ups.
I mentioned recently that I had taken a bookbinding class. It was held at Mildred’s Complexity, which, in loose terms, is the studio portion of Mildred’s Lane. I can’t fully define the place, because it is so many things. A breeding ground for art, design, thinking, and anything else you wish to add. All of that aside, when I walked into the 2nd floor space I couldn’t believe my good luck. It is a visual feast. From the white padded floor (was it covered in felt or linen or some other material?) to the hanging clothing patterns, to the piles of stacked packages and papers and fabrics. And that just touches the surface. Anyway, I took a few quick photos of the orderly piles. Here they are. To learn more about this very unusual place, click here.
Medium? Large? Or Jumbo? Ever wonder how, in the pre-mega-industrial age of farming, they graded eggs? Well, the Acme Egg Grading Scale is the answer. Friends of mine have one, and, for the past three or so years, I have seriously thought about swiping it. No need. This year, for my birthday, my friend Craig sent me my very own egg grader!!! Best present ever, if you aren’t counting the vintage apple peeler that arrived in the same package. Anyway, fast forward to a hot summer weekend. Some other friends of ours were visiting us upstate. Over cocktails and dinner preparations, they decided to start grading our eggs. Here is the end result. Lovely type treatment…don’t you think? Keep in mind that just because an egg looks large, it may not rate as highly as a smaller egg of denser proportion.
I would attribute my weakness for pink and green to those formative years spent in ultra-preppy New England. These brilliant leaves are being shed by a maple tree that is, tragically, on its way out. Regardless, I can’t stop picking them up off the ground.