Le Hameau d'Optevoz by Charles-Francois Daubigny

We move too fast. Or, at least, I do.

There was a time when I would go to the museum and make it my goal to take in one painting for as long as I could. I’d wander the halls, looking for a piece that grabbed me and, once I found it, park myself as comfortably as I could, and stare. I’d come close, then pull back. I’d look from one angle, then the next. I’d take in the individual details, then try to absorb the entire composition.

The last time I did this was several years ago, at least five, at the Met, in front of Charles-Francois Daubigny’s Le Hameau d’Optevoz.

This simple, pastoral painting surprised me. I was moved, my senses tingling. I could feel the artist’s hand at work but, more importantly, I could feel the scene, smell it, hear it.

And the painting is very modern in its composition: simple, bold geometric shapes; a solid but sweeping composition; restrained color belied by jewel-like highlights. The aesthetic term sublime would apply.

I spent at least 45 minutes staring at it, barely moving…transported. I wandered away, only to return before I left for the day.

I was reminded of this painting today. I’m not sure why. But as hungry as I am for visual stimulation, to see new things, to be constantly energized by unusual, unexpected images, few things have moved me as deeply as this quiet little painting in a corner at the Met.

If you have the chance, I encourage you to see it. In fact, don’t just see it. Take it in. You deserve the time away.

…

Here are some other paintings by Daubigny that are quite special:

Les Bords De Loise

Harvest

The River Seine at Mantes

From the creator of The Clavilux 2000:

The Clavilux 2000 is an interactive instrument for generative music visualization, which is able to generate a live visualization of any music played on a digital piano. The setting of the installation consists of three parts: A digital piano with 88 keys and midi output, a computer running a vvvv patch and a vertical projection above the keyboard.

For every note played on the keyboard a new visual element appears in form of a stripe, which follows in its dimensions, position and speed the way the particular key was stroke. Colours give the viewer and listener an impression of the harmonic relations: Each key has it’s own color scheme and “wrong” notes stand out in contrasting colors.

All stripes stay and overlap each other in an additive way, so at the end a kind of pattern remains – a summary of the music – which will be always unique since the notes of the composition aswell as the interpretation of the piano player are influencing the outcome. Furthermore the piano player can switch between the standart 2d view and an additional 3d view of the visualization while playing.

More information

Risky business.

I was having lunch today with my friend and colleague, Graham Ericksen, and we discussed what it takes for a company to become truly great.

We concluded that greatness can only happen where failure is an option. We’re not suggesting that companies should encourage failure, or aim for it. However, if a company is unwilling to permit failure as a possible outcome, that company will never take the kinds of risks that lead to greatness.

Graham and I have worked together and separately for companies that fall into both camps: those that risk failure, and those that do not. One thing is clear: where failure is permitted, boundaries get pushed and reputations are made. Where failure is punishable by death, everyone may be safe, but greatness is never an option.

Of course, in reality, companies need to keep the lights on and payroll flowing, but somehow great companies budget for failure, accept it as a cost of doing business, and reap the rewards when the great risks turn out to be great successes.

The Sandpit is a fantastic video by Sam O’Hare. The image style reminds me a lot of Susan Wides‘ photography.

A similar sentiment was conveyed by my graduate school mentor, Marvin Harden, who asked that we not speak about our own work during critiques. Instead, our classmates and, of course, Professor Harden himself, would give us their thoughts on what we were showing.

Obviously, one’s initial impulse is to argue, to explain, to defend. But, as Professor Harden always reminded us, if we are fortunate enough that our work is someday shown in a place of prominence, we won’t be present to explain it to every viewer.

Some will argue that it’s important to know what the artist was thinking, but do we ask ourselves what the chef was thinking before he prepared our meal? Do we ask what the composer was thinking? No, we eat, we listen, we judge.

The idea that artists’ words are more important, or as important, as their work is a recent phenomenon, and in many ways parallels the movement from work that is easily assessable by the average person to work that is more abstract, both in form and meaning.

As art moves from the realm of accessibility to obscurity, the tendency is to blame the masses. “They just don’t get it,” is a common refrain. But, if they don’t get it, explanations won’t necessarily help.

For commercial artists, i.e., designers, this is not a new concept. We don’t defend our work: we present it, and await feedback. We hope people see in it what we want them to see, and if they don’t, then we ask ourselves where we went wrong. We don’t assume that our explanations will suffice. They won’t.

Artists might take a cue from designers: being clever is all well and good, but when clever gets in the way of meaning, you’re no longer an artist, you’re a performer, and your work is a prop. Stop relying on explanations and make sure your work speaks for itself.

Oh, how I miss thee.

As we all know, Apple likes to try to make things easier, to streamline things. However, their recent decision to abolish the iTunes shopping cart was a big mistake. Now, instead of adding a song to your shopping cart, you can either add it to a wishlist, or buy it immediately.

Sounds reasonable, right? Wrong.

Say, like me, you want to give several songs to a friend as a gift. Well, unless those songs are in one album, you’ll have to buy and send one song a time. Oh, but wait…you can add them to your wishlist, and then purchase and give them all at once, right? Wrong again: if any of the songs you want to give are already in your own library, they cannot be added to your wishlist.

Some people have claimed the reason Apple got rid of the shopping cart was to streamline the buying experience, similar to the one-click option at Amazon. However, Amazon didn’t get rid of their shopping cart; they merely added the option to purchase with one-click. In other words, they didn’t remove a feature, they added an enhancement. In fact, Amazon not only provides one-click and a shopping cart, they have a wishlist, as well. Why? Because a wishlist is, in fact, different from a shopping cart; it’s a place where you keep things you’re not ready to buy yet, but might want to consider later. Apple’s decision to make the wishlist act like a shopping cart is incongruent with how people think of wishlists.

Is this just a tempest in a teapot? Probably, but it points up an important usability issue: never remove any feature users are familiar with without providing a functional, obvious alternative.

The paradigm for usability: self-explanatory, unambiguous, easy to use.

However, nearly every other tool Google offers fails to live up to this standard. Screens are cluttered and clumsily laid out; instructions are required (and often incomprehensible) because the UIs are non-intuitive; and sometimes it’s just plain hard to understand what a tool is supposed to do (in fact, I believe this last item prevented widespread adoption of the much-hyped Google Wave: no one knew what it was or how to use it).

In so many regards, Google is a company to be admired. But I think they’ve forgotten that usable tools tend to be self-explanatory (hammers and doorknobs being a couple great examples).

Google, it’s time to simplify things.

Brendan Dawes' Cinema Redux Print

“Brendan Dawes’ very special limited-edition based on our unending obsession with 2001: A Space Odyssey. Brendan explains, ‘A specially written piece of software takes a tiny snapshot of the film every second. Each row contains sixty of these frames, representing one minute of film time. This process continues for the whole movie resulting in an image that becomes greater than the sum of its parts, in effect creating a unique visual fingerprint of the film.’ Kubrick geeks must have this.”

In particular, I liked Dawes’ description:

“Cinema Redux is an attempt to make a physical visual representation of an entire movie in the hope that you can show the world – or the visitors to your home at least, your passion for a certain film. Not just a certain scene. Not just one single frame. But the entire film, represented in a new visual form, a kind of cinematic DNA. It’s made entirely from a digital ‘machine’ process. But it’s made for an analog ‘human’ world.”

McWatters' last return.

Sullivan's last volley

A few of the things the doubters were wrong about.

I was very skeptical about the iPad, and I remain somewhat so. My main concern is that the iPad is a device that attempts to create a new type of digital experience, never an easy thing to accomplish. It bravely (or stupidly) foregoes features in favor of simplicity (sometimes to its own detriment, as in the case of its lack of Flash support).

However, there is one thing that makes me wonder if it mightn’t be a huge success: its detractors.

You see, I’ve been a Mac user and enthusiast for years, and while my adoration for Apple has chilled over the years, I haven’t adopted the same knee-jerk frustration with everything Apple that some in the technology field have.

Many in this group were quick to claim the iPad an instant flop. They proudly announced all of its perceived shortcomings compared to other devices, without considering the totality of the iPad experience. They took joy in announcing every flaw, without ever having used one. And, they believe their cynicim makes them superior to Apple “fanboys,” even though their logic is just as flawed.

Yet, because this same group of outspoken cynics have been so wrong about Apple’s products in the past, I’m wondering if they mightn’t be wrong again:

• This is the same group who, in 1997, told us Apple would be out of business within a year or two.
• They predicted the iPod would be a failure because it was so simplistic.
• They proclaimed the iMac a toy because it sacrificed robust computing power for a compact user experience.
• They argued the iPhone was just another smart phone, and would be trounced by Blackberry.
• They predicted Apple’s decision to forego floppy drives would render Macs obsolete.
• They warned us that Apple’s wholesale move from serial to USB was a mistake of epic proportions.
• And they told us Apple’s retail stores would sit empty, save for the occasional fanboy eager to buy his latest toy.

They will tell you they never said these things. They will say they’re not buying into the cult of Apple. They will point out the occasions when they were, in fact, right. They will claim all of Apple’s success is due to great marketing. And, frankly, many of their arguments are quite valid.

But I keep coming back to this point: regular people – consumers – seem to love a lot of the things Apple does, regardless of what this other group of technophiles predicts. Whereas the technies often argue Apple doesn’t offer enough features, options, or flexibility, it seems people actually prefer a consistent, smooth, intuitive experience over bloat. And they seem to be willing to pay for it.

There are many reasons to believe the iPad will not live up to the hype (how could it, really?).

But there’s one reason to believe it might do quite well: the cynics are wrong so often, the odds are they’ll be wrong this time, too.

Some related links:

• Gizmodo’s Adam Frucci on 8 Things that Suck About the iPad
• Read Write Web’s How to Hate the iPad
• PC World’s 10 Things We Hate About Apple
• Grumpy Nerd’s I Hate Apple Computers