Real Simple and HOW magazine have recently featured the work of Matthew Sporzynski, who describes himself as a "pretend structural engineer." His paper sculptures are very creative and, frankly, pretty freakin' amazing.
OK, class. Getting in touch with our inner child can only help us be more playful and daring in our design choices. Especially for those of us tending toward a "corporate" look [raises hand].
So . . . sharing time. I'll go first. When I was a kid, I used to believe the animated "scrubbing bubbles" on the TV commercials were quite real. Since cleaning the bathrooms was my primary chore around the house, I used to beg my mom to buy this product, because wouldn't that just make my life a whole lot easier.
I'd like to think this belief was the result of really terrific marketing rather than me just being a dimwitted kid.
Now I know I'm not alone. When you have a few minutes, you gotta visit this website -- a wild list of things people used to believe as children. Pretty amusing stuff. I found there are others who had the same conviction regarding the "scrubbing bubbles."
This blog is a collection of resources and ramblings regarding the field of design. I am a media designer who enjoys creating, but becoming increasingly aware that we do not create in a vacuum. In the spirit of being a lifetime learner, I'm always on the lookout for information on how we send and receive visual messages in this crazy world of mass communication.
The Monkey Wrench
As a kid, I thought one of the coolest things to do was work with my dad in his wood shop. Since I really didn't inherit my dad's skill at woodworking and general "fix-it" abilities, I ended up being the helper, but I didn't even do that well.
Once, in the middle of a rather intense project, he barked out an order to me: "Get me the monkey wrench." I ran to his tool box, rummaged through the pile of what I considered completely foreign objects, searching for the Holy Grail. My only problem — I didn't know what the hell a monkey wrench looked like. In that moment of panic — desperate to please my father and, even more so, not wanting to look like a complete idiot — I learned an important lesson: know your tools.
Now I know, regardless of our profession, we all have our own personal set of tools. They don't necessarily look like the ones in my dad's red Black and Decker, but they're just as valuable. In gathering my own tools, I've seen the importance of having them close by. Knowing what they look like. How they feel in my hand. When it's appropriate to use them. When to add to the collection. It's been said that the tools make the man. I'm not sure if that's true, but I think they definitely make THIS man a little more useful. So I'll keep working on sharpening my skills and looking for ways to improve the way I work.
At the very least, I now know what a monkey wrench looks like. (Thanks, Dad.)