Rob Hale

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Albums of 2011.

I’d previously posted my albums of the year over in the comments at Revolution34 - but, being a twit, I subsequently realised a brilliant album I could have sworn I bought in 2010 actually came out at the start of this year (Charles Bradley). That seemed as good an excuse as any to post the list up here along with my previous Tracks of 2011 entry.

In all honesty, it seemed that my most played albums this year were favourites from 2010 - Budos Band, Warpaint (god, I love that band), Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings, Laura Veirs, The Bamboos, Darkstar, Sleigh Bells - and a few late discoveries - Tame Impala’s Innerspeaker, particularly.

In spite of that, I still managed to get through a fairly massive amount of new music - even tho I’m equally sure that (on top of continuing to play the above-mentioned artists to death) most of the records I picked up were either 45s or EPs, or simply older albums. 2011 was good and varied year, musically, altho I’m not wholly sure I could define many of my favourite albums by genre - Lydia Loveless & Jessica Lea Mayfield are certainly steeped in ‘country music’, but it’s hardly the Grand Ole Opry; I’m not convinced that Hyetal or even Zomby are strictly ‘dubstep’ in much of the sadly dogmatic or crossover way in which that label now gets applied; and, incapable of shackling to genre, it’s simpler - if not actually easier - to reel off the many different ingredients of Danger Mouse & Daniele Luppi’s brilliant, sweeping “Rome”.

Still, the increasing meaninglessness of genre is no bad thing. I think, now, that genre only really has any relevance - and can truly be cited & celebrated - with artists like Charles Bradley, and the Menahan Street Band; people so involved with, so steeped in, and so accomplished in the creation of their music, that their genre is merely a natural - but indisputable - byproduct, and it will travel with them wherever.

One less pleasing trend is the absence of straight up hiphop in my listening over the last few years. There simply hasn’t been anything good enough, Damu tha Fudgmunk’s How It Should Sound being perhaps the honourable recent exception. Rap music, seriously - sort it out. You’ve got the best part of a century’s worth of music to sample, and no moratorium on wit, invention & meaning in language, so what’s the excuse?

With all that in mind, here are my albums of 2011 - click thru the sleeve collage at the bottom for a Spotify playlist.

Danger Mouse & Danielle Luppi - Rome (EMI)

Charles Bradley - No Time For Dreaming (Dunham)

Lydia Loveless - Indestructible Machine (Bloodshot)

Peggy Sue - Acrobats (Wichita)

Zomby - Dedication (4AD)

200 Years - S/T (Drag City)

The Kills - Blood Pressures (Domino)

Jessica Lea Mayfield - Tell Me (Nonesuch)

Hyetal - Broadcast (Black Acre)

Kuedo - Severant (Planet Mu)

Kate Bush - 50 Words for Snow (Fish People)

Dan Haywood’s New Hawks - S/T (Timbreland)

Honourable mentions:

John Maus - We Must Become the Pitiless Censors of Ourselves (UTR)

Cults - S/T (Columbia)

Tune-Yards - W H O K I L L (4AD)

Here I sit, forming people in my image.

Odd thing about the newly-revealed teaser one-sheet for Ridley Scott’s Prometheus: I can’t help but look at it like a quad poster design, which has had the image extended after the fact to make it a one-sheet. Which, having seen, I both prefer and cannot unsee.

I also think that ‘my’ quad version of it really brings out the echo of the original Alien poster. Your mileage may vary, of course.

Anyway. I have a feeling we’ll see some more decent poster design for Prometheus before it’s out. You already know the production design will be amazing..

Here come the girls.

Zack Snyder’s Sucker Punch didn’t do much for me as a film, which was kind of disappointing. Visually & conceptually, Sucker Punch contains ideal raw ingredients for Completely Awesome. Five ridiculously hot women attempt escape from an asylum/brothel, employing the obvious methods of dressing like whores & dancing dirty, creating fantasy worlds of elaborate action sequences. Our heroines run around, festooned with weaponry & wearing thoroughly impractical footwear, kungfooing, slashing, shooting, and generally battering everything that comes at them - beginning with huge mecha samurai, continuing with gigantic dragons and an army of Nazi zombies, and winding up on a futuristic bullet train infested with unstoppable killer robots. And all of this really takes place inside the lead character’s mind.

Sounds like a blast, eh? Alice in Wonderland with guns, or whatever all the hype said. Yet, top boffins are still trying to figure out how Sucker Punch - with a tidy VFX budget, only the most wafer-thin of plots to get in the way, and five main characters who exist purely to be totally badass - wound up being remarkably unexciting, unengaging, and often downright boring. What should have been fun, fun, fun, for the best part of two hours just ends up flatlining. Which is a shame, because it has stuff in it that looks like this:

This has been a curious feature for me of all Snyder’s films so far - I’ve not enjoyed them, but found a lot to love in the visuals. Sucker Punch has plenty up on screen that I thought was interesting or awesome - particularly with the main characters, who should be a whole lot cooler & dynamic than they come across, and there were definitely diamonds in the rough of its sizeable poster campaign. Part of the teaser promotion was a slew of individual character one-sheets & so forth featuring the Sucker Punch girls - and among this mass of imagery is one pair of standouts that caught some sense of the flair Babydoll & Rocket should have had. Those two images were used both for these one-sheets, and a huge standee in IMAX cinemas.

I also liked the concept of the “Blondes have more fight” propaganda-style poster - tho I ended up pretty lukewarm on the rest of the (rather lazy) “retro” and fantasy illustration character posters that got produced..

My favourite visual for Sucker Punch came courtesy of the ever dependable UK quad poster. This quad received a unique design & does look superb - for my money, this is the most arresting image for the film, and the film I hoped it was promoting seemed a whole lot more interesting than the one I saw. There is something fun, stylish & cool about the idea of Sucker Punch, it’s definitely something I like visually & conceptually I’m glad some part of the style & attitude did wind up somewhere.

I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way.

Who Framed Roger Rabbit is a great film, a smart, well-written, funny film – not to mention technically astonishing. It’s in many ways unmatched, very much a unique achievement - with hindsight, a film that could have only been made at that high-water moment in the marriage of technique & technology, shortly before animation and moviemaking both irreparably embraced the digital age.

Sadly, none of that wit & artistry you see on the screen made it as far as Roger Rabbit’s marketing. Here’s the UK version of the main poster style, so we can see just how poorly the film was presented publicly.

Woeful.

Good films don’t always get a good poster, no surprises there, and that’s been true in any decade. Right now, however, there’s a bunch of ways in which third parties are picking up that slack - specialist cinema venues & studios frequently commission exclusive artwork from designers, which can often be bought directly, and you find design blog entries that showcase excellent personal work from amateur & professional designers, reimagining artwork for films or many genres. But whilst this trend for enhancing the presentation & imagery associated with new & classic films is a pretty recent thing, it’s not entirely modern.

Kilian Designs was an interesting enterprise, founded by one Jeff Killian, who set up shop in the mid-80’s to create licensed, limited edition posters - principally sold via fanclubs - and the company opened its account by joining the Star Wars merchandising train. Kilian’s hallmarks were high-quality print & exclusive artwork - and besides a series of Star Wars anniversary posters, during the company’s short lifetime Kilian released some superb commemorative prints for Indiana Jones, Aliens, Night Of The Living Dead, It’s A Wonderful Life, The Day The Earth Stood Still – and, in 1988, Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

I’m not exactly sure how many posters Kilian created for Who Framed Roger Rabbit, but there are at at least a half-dozen (including ones for the toon-within-story “Maroon Cartoons”, such as Wet Nurse), with the most notable being a set of three exceptional one-sheets - all far superior to the official Roger Rabbit poster design. Produced in extremely limited quantities, the first is the “Style C” poster featuring Roger himself, illustrated by then-Lucasfilm artist Dayna Stedny.

The two real standouts from this set feature not Roger Rabbit, predictably, but the film’s most famous character - Jessica Rabbit. Kilian obviously knew these were the best pieces; again painted by Stedny, both are in keeping with the “C” poster design, but the Jessica posters were printed in on gold-coated Mylar plastic, with the border, type & costume details left unprinted.

The first of these, “Style D”, repeats the “Time To Toon in Again!” tagline, and exists in two variants; a teaser print run with a red dress, shown below, and the official run with the screen-accurate pink.

The best of the bunch, however, I’ve kept until last. This is Kilian’s “Style E” poster, again printed on the gold Mylar, but ditching the usual taglines in favour of the best line in the film.

Kilian disappeared somewhere around the early- to mid-90’s. One suggestion is that Lucasfilm became unhappy with what became the final round of Kilian’s Star Wars posters - and having fallen out of favour with their principal licensor, that was pretty much that - but while their Star Wars designs may have been the bedrock of the company, I think their best work was for Who Framed Roger Rabbit. Where the official poster missed by a mile, Dana Stedny’s artwork captures both characters perfectly.

Dysfunctio cerebri.

It being Halloween, it seemed appropriate to roll out this piece related to James Whale’s classic 1931 interpretation of Frankenstein. Starring Colin Clive & Boris Karloff in career-defining roles, Whale’s Frankenstein has an astonishing legacy. Regardless of its wild deviation from Mary Shelley’s book - in fact, the film’s screenplay was based on a 1920’s stage adaptation of the story, which took plenty of liberties with the source material anyway - the 1931 Frankenstein has defined the general perception of Shelley’s story, gave us famous quotes & tropes unfound in the novel, and of course, created the unmatched visual shorthand for the Monster (as portrayed by Karloff under some incredible prosthetics, which I might scribble about one day). Frankenstein, with other Universal Studios’ creature features of the period, was & has remained genre-defining cinema, creating a cultural impact which has never diminished. Less well-known, however, is one other visual legacy of the film – a remarkable poster.

Several classic, early Horror & monster films – such as Dracula & The Mummy from 1931 & ’32 (also starring Karloff), and the 1933 King Kong – ran theatrical posters which now number among the most exceptionally rare, and most expensive, reaching comfortably into hundreds of thousands of dollars at auction when surviving one-sheets do surface. But the original six-sheet poster for the 1931 Frankenstein is the most celebrated among the early Horror poster rarities, for a literally singular reason – only one copy is known to have survived, and in perfect, unused condition. This, then, currently is reckoned to be the most valuable film poster in the world:

Some estimates on its price, should it ever come to auction – its owner says it will not – are close to the million dollar mark. That’s a few hundred thousand more than the next most valued film poster. There’s a story connected to the Frankenstein six-sheet’s discovery, of course: that this mint condition, unused example was an accidental discovery, found inside a thought-empty suitcase sold as part of a lot of storage trunks, junked from the old Universal backlot. The circumstances are substantially true, but the exact details of the story vary (and probably became unclear in part to throw other collectors off the scent); for example, one version claims some cases found their way to a yard sale in Northern California; another that the trunks were being auctioned by an antique dealer the opposite end of the state.

The most important thing isn’t (or shouldn’t be) the poster’s rarity or value, however, but whether it looks any good. Which, as you plainly can see, it really does. I think it’s interesting that it suggests something of a theatrical play, it’s not as kinetic as other posters created for the film (or other Horrors of that era); whether that’s a reflection of Frankenstein’s roots in a stage production, or perhaps the artist’s background in producing artwork for stage shows, I don’t know. It’s sad, actually, that it’s easier to write about the poster as a collection piece or someone’s heirloom, counting beans & emphasising scarcity, than it is to relate anything about the artistic or design story here – as far as I can tell, no definite information on the artist is known. The “Morgan” signature in the lower right-hand corner refers to the lithographers who printed the poster, not the actual painter; curious that, like the Monster which came to popularly assume the name of its creator, the poster’s architect should also be eclipsed, any maker’s mark supplanted even by the print process for the final article. As with the film though, the visuals are striking  – it’s tempting to say that, in the powerfully forlorn poise and empty yet expressive face, impossible to ignore as the focus of the composition, the anonymous artist perhaps communicates something more of Shelley’s self-aware Monster than the motivated but mindless horror shown onscreen.

All The President’s Men.

All The President’s Men is one of my favourite films, and not purely because of its immediately gripping story or acting. The whole look & feel of the film is remarkable, simultaneously an incredible commitment to accuracy and authenticity, and a masterclass in tension & narrative – especially considering the constituent parts of this thriller are essentially a series of Q&As, conducted via awkward or garbled phonecalls, inside nervous private homes, and uninviting public spaces. Credit for the arresting visuals of All The President’s Men goes to the trio of director Alan J Pakula, cinematographer Gordon Willis, and production designer George Jenkins.

The interiors of All The President’s Men are characterised by Willis’ use of shadow, a cloaking darkness & the coldness of strip lighting. Doorways, stairwells & hallways are either bleached in light, or more commonly, shrouded in darkness, often partitioning Woodward (Redford) & Bernstein (Hoffman) from others. The Watergate break-in is shot in virtual blackness - undercover police searching office to office providing bursts of fluorescent light. At the Washington Post, that light penetrates every corner and every office - bright, but impersonal & almost disorientating; it’s impossible to know whether it is day or night outside. Adding to this is Willis’ mastery of focus. Despite the near-continuous activity of the Post’s immense newsroom, and the spiralling, unpredictable nature of the conspiracy – conveyed to us in the same piecemeal, fractured fashion as Woodward & Berstein uncovered it – no nuance or action is lost to the background. You can practically follow the characters’ thoughts during their calls and conversations; and I love that even the gripes & glances of WoodStein’s anti-chemistry – they did not take to each other naturally – are continually there.

The Post’s newsroom is a character in itself, an astonishing example of attention to detail. Unable to shoot at the Post’s real offices, designer George Jenkins had the production department measure & photograph literally every inch & item in the newsroom – and then meticulously recreated the Post’s entire fifth floor, on a vast soundstage back in Burbank, California. The exact same furniture, fixture & fittings were bought & manufactured, even down to the paint for the desk colours being mixed by hand to match the Post’s real departmental colour coding. The Post boxed up their wastepaper & rubbish week in, week out, shipping it all to be used on the film set. Rooms of telephone directories, old & of out of print, were reprinted to ensure accuracy. A cast was taken of a brick in the Post’s lobby, and that was then used to make the bricks for the set. To this day, I don’t think this set has been bettered – none of it merely a convincing facsimilie of a place where people work; it simply is the Washington Post, the whole set is so alive & real in every frame. It’s a masterpiece of production artistry.

One of the most famous elements of the Watergate story is Woodward’s nighttime meetings with “Deep Throat” (unidentified until a short time before his death, in 2008, when he was revealed to be Mark Felt, former Associate Director of the FBI). The cavernous underground garage in which they meet is an unnerving shadow companion to the Post newsroom; similarly structured & shot, but draped in darkness & a ghoulish, lifeless blue light.

“Deep Throat” is always obscured by shadow, but it’s a notable aspect of Pakula’s composition that all WoodStein’s reticent sources are frequently shown to us as partially obscured; if not by light & shadow, then by doors, furniture, corners of tables & surfaces – guarded or perhaps trapped, and as if slightly out of reach of the reporters. Similarly, their close-ups always carry an unsettling quality Even in their helpfulness they are shown backed into chairs or corners of rooms, posed awkwardly, emphasising their conflict or fear - or suddenly shown squarely in frame, brightly lit & uncomfortable, as if in interrogation.

Washington DC itself also plays an important role in All The President’s Men’s exteriors; at all times it is cast as cold, too vast, uninviting, lonely – whether in sunshine, during daytime or night, in car or on foot, sat on Capitol Hill, or even sat in a McDonald’s. Pakula & Willis manage to bring their lighting & framing to bear in every location, inside & out. Redford & Hoffman are frequently shown either somehow divided from the people around them, or simply becoming invisible - lost in their seemingly impossible task as the camera tracks back in the Library of Congress, or along the city’s rooftops.

Another tool used by Pakula is the extreme closeup on the reporters’ weapons of choice; phones, pads, typewriters. These items become fascinating & powerful as WoodStein follow the money, frantically scribbling across yellow notepads, dialling & redialling, pounding out copy. Post executive editor Ben Bradlee’s “non-denial denial” is shown rather than heard. All The President’s Men opens and closes on nearly abstract shots of typewriter ribbon, keys hammering against paper with the sound of gunshots, fatal to Nixon’s administration.

Speak softly and carry a big sword.

Tarantino, unsurprisingly, has a good idea about what makes for a memorable image, and the theatrical posters for his first few films all demonstrate this. The pick of the bunch for me is Kill Bill. There’s a bunch of different styles & variants from country to country, but the ingredients are simple & bold – Beatrix Kiddo with her Hanzo sword, Game Of Death-influenced leathers & Onitsuka Tigers, as much yellow as is fit for print, prominent type & horizontals.

The UK quad format often brings out the best in a film’s imagery, and Kill Bill’s Style A design looks like the classic here – masses of blank space, the strong black horizontal, and the boxed type sits better here than it does on its one-sheet counterpart.

In my opinion, however, the quad design fumbles one key thing – it doesn’t use what became the iconic pose of Uma Thurman’s Bride. For the best use of that shot, and the best of Kill Bill’s many and varied designs, we have to turn - perhaps fittingly, given the film’s many homages to kung fu & samurai films - to these posters for the theatrical release in Japan.

That full length banner is apparently one of the more unusual Japanese theatrical formats to have survived outside of the cinema itself. Typically they’re the best part of 2 metres tall, and along with the B1 & B0 large format posters – roughly equivalent to a slightly oversized US one-sheet and a double-sized one-sheet, respectively – these more massive posters simply get thrown away once the film’s run is done.

Kill Bill Vol. 1 also had other great posters for release in Japan, including a landscape composite of character shots, and this expressive closeup on Kiddo winding up:

Kill Bill Vol. 2 came out with imagery which was just as strong, and here the UK teaser quad does win out – inverting the yellow & black, and framing a striking shot of Thurman between the horizontals.

Vol. 2’s imagery also strikes out in different directions, less consistent than Vol.1 – actually bringing the designs full circle to the original teaser poster for Vol. 1, which partly made a feature of the Bride’s dress design. The first teaser for Kill Bill Vol. 2 gives us a rich shot of the Bride in her wedding dress, and swaps the strong horizontals for bleached diagonals.

One of the lead French theatrical posters runs with this theme, switching Beatrix’ side-on pose for a great, defiant head-on shot:

As with Kill Bill Vol. 1 tho, for the best Vol. 2 poster it’s back to Japan. Again, there was a variety of styles, but the most striking were the “Kill is Love” series. Completely breaking from any other previous visual styles, these posters featured some of the other female characters as well as Kiddo - stills from the film, overlaid with illustrated type & decoration. Mostly, the illustration is the more interesting part, rather than the image – but one of these is different.

Agreeing with the French in their choice of imagery, the Japanese created my favourite of all the Kill Bill posters; and in the 40-inch B1 portrait format, one of the most striking (I’m also showing off slightly here, as I actually have one of these.. one day I might even have space to frame it). The best of the Kill Bill posters are all striking, bold & stylish, great reflections of the films, and overall the designs & the images are among the best of cinema’s last decade. But this one – although unusual & unique among the largely consistent presentation & imagery of Kill Bill’s posters - I think is the best of the lot.

Your move, creep.

“Iconic” can be an overused word, but with film marketing imagery & poster design from the 70’s & 80’s, you can’t really avoid using the term often, and with justification. And “iconic” can’t be used much more justifiably than it is with the poster for RoboCop.

Probably the best Judge Dredd movie Hollywood will ever make, RoboCop is not only exciting, satirical, hilarious, aggressive, & smart, but is practically the poster boy for “iconic” - literally. Murphy stepping out of his OCP cop car is indelible imagery, as visceral & memorable as anything in the film itself - and that’s before you add in “that” logo font, the knowing & unashamedly corporate copy, and that essential design glue, layout. No other film poster can ever do anything similar, because it will simply look “like RoboCop”. No band or comic can use that pose for a cover or splash page, unless they intentionally want to tip their hat to RoboCop. That one single, kinetic & ambiguous pose of Murphy - is it a hero getting in the car, riding into the night? Or a threat stepping out, a potentially lethal embodiment of brutal law - belongs forever & inextricably to RoboCop. It’s a poster which created one of the most iconic images in modern cinema.


Who made it? Well, appropriately for RoboCop, it may not have been OCP but it was something equally as venal - it was Marketing. The dreaded Marketing. Home of 99% of the worlds’ cultural stupidity, home of decision (and, even worse, design) by compromise & committee, natural champion of the Lowest Common Denominator, and a breeding ground for buzzwords, bullshit, hype & mediocrity. Marketing, of course, sits in the glare of the half-vicious, half-joshing satire of Robocop; who doesn’t remember those superb world-building commercials? “I’d buy that for a dollar!”, like so much of the film, was iconic in itself. Then there was the “American tradition” of the 6000 SUX - not just a comment on America’s love of new, large, inefficient & ugly cars, but parodying a real new car from one of Ford’s realworld competitors. The central premise of the film uses & abuses Marketing, of course. With a private company running the police force for profit, the genesis for the ED209 & Robocop programs is rooted firmly with the marketeers & their ambitious, amoral executives.

Yet it was faceless, soulless Marketing that gave us this most iconic of film images. It’s not hard to see why, tho. If there’s one thing Marketing knows, it knows its own, and that world is at the core of RoboCop’s story. The Robocop poster would have been a gift to a talented designer in the wasteland of Marketing - not only does it have to sell the film, but it actually works as part of the fiction; how else would you sell a real RoboCop, at that time in history, in a setup like the one in the film, except by announcing “THE FUTURE OF LAW ENFORCEMENT” with a bullhorn & the irony dials firmly set at nought.


They also understood, as Marketing would, that The Car’s The Star. Or, in this case, the superior example of Detroit engineering that dwarfs the automobile. Look how big Murphy is - completely uncropped, owning the whole central third of the poster, the OCP cruiser & abstract background lights merely framing for Robocop’s massive form. Even that superb, stern & forthright copy sits warily to one side as it steps out - one crushing metal foot serving as an emphatic & unequivocal fullstop to its own name & seller’s strapline.


Ah yes. The name on the poster. Or more precisely, that font. Exactly as it should be, “RoboCop” is a logo. If they’d had any longer to think about it, it would have become a brand, and it betrays a touch of genius. As a typeface, the RoboCop title font is painfully trying to be “futuristic”, and dates itself as a result. It’s ugly, ostentatious, humourless & weighty.. but forged as a logo, it’s amazing, it’s trying hard not to smirk at you, it’s incredibly self-aware, and - perhaps most importantly, like all the best film logos - it manges to encapsulate something of the film in its form. It’s hard to nail down, but there’s a quality to that “RoboCop” logo which shows that the people who created it cared about the film, and what it said. It was the perfect fit for the film, for the same reasons as the copy, and the image.

After all that, I have to admit what you’ve already realised - it wasn’t really some generic, stereotypical “Marketing” strawman that created this poster. It was, as I’ve said, people (albiet faceless) who cared, who had talent, who did a brilliant piece of work. It was designers at B.D. Fox Independent. Who, by the way, also designed the poster for the 1989 Batman (one of the world’s really, REALLY iconic logos given reverent & loving treatment). They also created the posters for E.T.; Halloween; Cronenberg’s The FlySpinal Tap; In Bed With Madonna;Memphis Belle (which they seemingly approached as a bratpack movie group shot, but with flight jackets & a fucking great plane in the background); BeetlejuiceBill & Ted. The list goes on. The point is that, far from being the 99% talentshy Marketing cockmonkeys, in & around the 1980’s B.D. Fox clearly had creatives on the books who knew what they were doing.


Genuinely, I believe that even just the RoboCop logo, never mind the whole poster, is up there with those of GhostbustersStar Wars & Back To The Future as a handful of the most truly iconic logos in cinematic art design - ones that stand on their own as instant signifiers of their films, away from any associated imagery, and will never need revising or reworking*. I also wonder if, like those logo designs, that “RoboCop” was also one of the most last minute iconic logos of all time. If you look back over the published design development of those other films, you see some terrible, of-their-time fonts & logos used throughout development - some often approved for the longest time, not simply trials or placeholders - and then only shortly before release did the now accepted “classic” logos come into existence, finally capturing some aspect or other of the films for which they have become a kind of iconographic shorthand. I have no way of knowing, but I suspect that final RoboCop logo would have had the same 11th hour genesis.


So anyway. A tip of the chrome dome to Marketing, the unnamed designers of B.D. Fox, and the producers, of RoboCop - who judged exactly the tone of the film, recognised exceptional work when it was presented to them, and gave one of modern cinema’s most iconic films an equally potent & iconic poster.

*Postscript - All three Robocop films have been released as a Bluray boxset. Some clueless modern marketing moron thought they should “have a go” at the logo and artwork. Hey, guess what? It SUX.



Around the internets (slight return).

Forgot about this last week, and really, only a short list this week. It’s almost like I’m actually doing work & stuff, and not rooting about on the web…

And I’m not even going to mention the Blade Runner prequel/sequel/remake thing. I’m just not sure I can really take that on & cope with it just yet, even with Ridley Scott involved.

So…

Found this pretty fascinating, but sadly brief, look at how Hatch Show Print works.

Nastumi Hayashi’s “levitating” self-portraits are quite bizarre. And probably quite painful to create.

Found my way to From Your Desks, which is also pretty fascinating - a look at the working area of various designers, including Bill Daniel, Ben Barry, the Heads of State, Milton Glaser, all kinds of folks. Only downside is the navigation’s not great, for getting a content list, but using the archive links at the bottom of the frontpage works best. Their blog is worthwhile too.

There was the usual excellence from Kim Jong-Il Looking At Things.

I had a Statler & Waldorf moment on the Twitters. It can go here too.