Experience and memory, as discussed in class, is central to food and dining. Whenever my family has come to Melbourne through the years (before I moved here), we always stayed in the same Carlton apartments, and always went to Tiamo Restaurant (tiamo meaning ’I love you’, in Italian). It’s full of old maps and signs (even an old Spencer St Station sign!), posters and notes, and (strangely) a serviette, covered in mathematical formulas, taped to the wall with blue band aids. This morning, I spoke to the owner about the signs up everywhere, discovering that most had come from his grandfather’s collection, and others were bought from a trader in Melbourne.
The waiters speak with strong accents and often get your order wrong. The kitchen is noisy and one waiter in particular walks around whistling songs I don’t recognise. The food is full of flavour and spice and personality. I adore this place. It’s so memorable and warm and satisfying. I hope to keep coming here with my family, over the years.
Kate Kidson-Purry, 29 July 2016, photographs of Tiamo.
Me n’ my fellow eggsies going out for our meal, sketching n’ stuff~ 😊
Various Artists (posted with permission), 29 July 2016, untitled sketches.
Two printing runs and several hours later, I’ve finally perfected the template!! I’m really happy with how this project is progressing, and right now I’m experimenting with type and composition… because this will be such a minimal design, following the style of Makiko herself, it’s very important that that I use space cleverly and have my type choice just right for the interview content.
One thing I am finding hard is that Makiko’s work is not widely known, and therefore has not been widely circulated on the internet; there are only a few high-quality versions of her work available. She’s busy, currently, and hasn’t replied to my latest email for several days, so I’m not sure I’ll be able to source them from her directly… I think I’m going to try scanning some of her illustrations from the magazine nico, the winter 2008 edition, which featured a number of her works.
Edit: Look at that linework!! It’s hard to believe it’s entirely two-dimensional, it has such life on the paper! And the icing on the cake (of this set of designs) is the way the stark black-on-white linework contrasts with the vibrant orange and the deep blue.
This new advertisement near RMIT is really cool!! I love the fluid use of type, and the way the texture of the wall mixes with the softness of the spraypaint.
Edit: I love this in so, so many ways…. I can’t find much information on the piece, but the Digital Art Museum says it’s variations of ‘directed chaos’*. These gorgeous line-based symbols don’t appear to have any meaning (that said, I don’t know what the artist was intending when she made them).
Yet, my immediate reaction was to see these forms as a typeface, which says something interesting, I think, about the associations that come with certain uses of the grid. Admittedly, I am studying typography as well, so that’s obviously a factor. I’d love to make a typeface out of this sometime.
I researched Vera Molnar, and I’m stunned I’ve never heard about her before! Apparently, she was at the forefront of computer-based art, notably randomised art developed through algorithms, and geometric pieces that studied the breaking down of units, expressed as a series of increasingly fractured images. Brilliant! My own art and design may usually tend towards more fluid and organic imagery, but I adore geometric and mathematically-based design. There’s something so clean and pure about it. Perhaps the lack of human interaction sets it apart from other design, gives it a unique and untouchable sense of ‘other’.
Update: I didn’t follow the attached link in the original post at first, for some silly reason. Now that I have, it turns out these works were part of a series inspired by the magic square in Albrecht Dürer’s engraving Melancholia, as shown below (please ignore tumblr’s hideous tendency to stretch images):
This piece has been deeply researched and debated, and (given my research on it thus far) has been said to contain knowledge of astrology, theology, philosophy, and even alchemy. The angelic figure is said to be despairing in the limits of human knowledge (as shown by the measuring instruments and objects about her), bound somehow by her inability to fly; bound by the inability to transcend human imagination and attain higher concepts of abstract thought, the yearning for which is possibly symbolised by the ladder which shows a path upwards and out of the frame. It is very likely that, given her own work, Vera Molnar was attracted to this piece because of its mathematical and scientific exploration. But what I find really fascinating is that this is far from any kind of detached algorithmic sequence; this is a piece communicating frustration and melancholia. It is believed, widely so, that this is a spiritual self-portrait of the artist himself, and his own melancholic distaste. This is not a purely intellectual piece–in fact, it could be easily argued that this is the exact opposite. This is full of emotion, of yearning, of brooding nostalgia.
I love when the intellectual and the scientific (so often paraded by society as being superior to the arts) coexist alongside design and emotion in such a harmonious and meaningful way.
Edit: Reblogging this because it’s a brilliant example of intelligent collage! Check out his Instagram, it’s fantastic (link above)
Update: It seemed appropriate, after today’s (Wednesday’s) lecture to add that Dan Cretu’s work is almost like a more modern equivalent of Sergei Sviatchenko’s collage work! Though I believe Sviatchenko utilises space far more, and thereby creates a sense of balance and contrast which I really, really enjoy.