Category: Art & Design
It’s true. I’m unfashionable. I’m fashion ignorant.
I’m not the kind of guy who knows much about fashion. You won’t find me buying fancy shoes on my own. Nor a fancy shirt. Nor even know what all the latest brands are.
If you did find me buying something fancy, it was because a significant other was taking me shopping. Because they were sick and tired of my old, ragged shoes. Or faded t-shirts. Or worn-out pants.
Those magazines and television shows espousing fashion tips never register with me. I glance at the pretty pictures, think they looked too hoity-toity, then return to whatever I was doing.
I’ll even be the first to admit: you know that star from Sex and The City, Sarah Jessica Parker? Her character is supposed to be stylish and chic and all that, right? How come I want to claw out my eyes with hot hibachi sticks whenever I see her then? If you slapped white paint on her face and a red ball on her nose, I wouldn’t know the difference.
Or perhaps I just don’t know fashion. I am Jack’s complete lack of fashion sense.
I don’t mind though. I find it amusing that my wardrobe receives an upgrade every time I enter into a new relationship. And now that I’m engaged, it’s like I have a permanent personal shopper. Ahem. (Love you, honey!)
I don’t strive to look like a slob, mind you. I have enough common sense not to wear clothes that have large stains or holes in them. I strive for comfort. For utility. Does it shelter me from the elements? Does it hide my nubbin? Does it feel comfortable to wear? Then put it on!
See, that’s all I want. While I might not be abreast of all the latest fashion trends, I know what feels good to wear.
Some ex’s may disagree. Some may say I wear clothes so long that they go out of fashion, then back into fashion.
Or they would, were it not for wardrobe makeovers subjected to me by those same ex’s. Which, really, I didn’t mind in the least. They were just trying to do what they felt was best for me.
For better or worse, ours is a superficial society. People make judgments based on appearances, however slight they may be. It’s okay. I do it. You do it. We all do it.
If you saw a teenage male dressed in baggy pants that were practically on the ground, with gold in his mouth, hat turned sideways, what would you do? Other than try to get on American Idol?
Now say you saw the same teenage male dressed in a nicely pressed suit and tie and gold cufflinks. You would have a decidedly different first impression of the youth, wouldn’t you? Admit it, you would.
That’s no reason to become a slave to appearances, of course. As any sensible human being, you would probably wait until you heard this young man speak and share his thoughts before making any solid judgments.
Fashion can make a subtle impression. I understand that. You may not agree, or like believing that, but your boss or your in-laws are ever-so-gently swayed by what you are wearing when you first meet them.
I will also readily admit that it feels good to look good. When I’m at a formal event wearing a tailored suit, it feels good. Damn good. I’m no James Bond or Chow Yun Fat, but slip on a pair of shades, put a toothpick in my mouth, and I’m ready to pull out a pair of handguns from my pockets.
This is reason #238 for why I love my fiancée so much. No, not because of handguns. Because she has a knack for finding clothes that are fashionable enough without looking metrosexual (something I definitely am not), yet comfortable to wear. I don’t know how she does it, but she does it. And she’s teaching me little by little how do fish for myself.
The result is everyday wear that fits my base needs of comfort and utility. They aren’t ragged and worn-out, nor hoity-toity.
And, damn, it feels good to wear them.
Hint: she tells me one of the secrets of comfortable fashion is that a guy should feel good wearing a particular article of clothing. If not, no matter how fashionable the piece, it’s not going to look good on the guy. Apparently, when you feel good about it, you have more self-confidence wearing it. And as any woman will tell you, it’s all about self-confidence.
It may be true that I’m unfashionably conscious, but thanks to my personal shopper (love you, honey!), I can remain blissfully fashion-ignorant of the latest trends, yet find comfortable clothes that feel good. And that will never go out of fashion.
“Do you have to be unhappy to create great art?”
I thought for a moment. “I wouldn’t think so. Why should being happy or unhappy matter if you’re a great artist?”
“Okay,” Jimmy continued. “Name someone who’s been happy and created a great piece of art. Music, writing, painting, whatever.”
I rubbed my chin. Stubble. I forgot to shave this morning. “Well, there’s… hmm nah. But there’s… oh, wait, he’s unhappy too. How about… oh shoot, depressed as a doornail.”
“There’s no one, right?”
We stopped. All around us was incredible Prague architecture. It was a harmonious yet schizophrenic cacophony of medieval, baroque, art nouveau, renaissance, gothic, neo-gothic, neo-classical, cubist, and modern styles.
“Damn. I guess I can’t think of any great artists who were happy when they created their great art. I mean, they became happy later…”
“And what do you think of their later work?”
I look at him. “Shit.”
Jimmy laughed. “Exactly. It was total shit.”
“That can’t be though. That could just be a matter of my limited imagination. I’m sure there’s a great artist out there who’s happy and pumping out great art.”
“I don’t think so dude. I really don’t think so.”
We stood still for a moment in silence. Looking at the architecture around us, with its pointy tops and spires reaching for the Heavens, like open hands waiting to be saved.
“So why do you think that is?” I asked. “Why must an artist be unhappy to create great art?”
He cleared his throat. “Okay, here’s what I think. I’ve thought a lot about this. People like to commiserate with others when they’re unhappy. So unhappy songs and stories and art allow unhappy people to feel that they’re not alone.”
“Ah! Good theory.”
“Thanks dude.”
“Misery loves company, right? So it seems natural that unhappy people would want company, even if it’s in the form of art.”
“Right.”
We admired a piece of gothic architecture, with its pointed arches and flying buttresses. The walls were darkened by the ages, scarring the building with ash and soot, like a discarded charcoal painting.
“So does this mean you’ve got to be unhappy to create great art?” I asked.
Jimmy paused. “Yea, pretty much. I did most of my song writing back when I was an angrier, angst-ridden youth. Nowadays, life is good and I don’t find myself inspired to write as much.”
“That’s a shame. That means artists are doomed to a life of unhappiness if they want to be great.”
“Exactly. It’s tragic.”
I stopped and took a picture of a building’s spire. “There’s almost a beauty in it,” I said.
“What?” He looked over at the building.
“I don’t mean the building. I mean in being unhappy for great art. There’s a melancholy, yet romantic aspect to this theory.”
“Oh?”
“Yea. It means artists have to suffer for their art. I’m sure office workers in the rat race hate their lives…”
“Exactly. It’s The Man keeping us down!”
“…and wish they could be off creating art, because it seems so much easier. But in reality, it’s much harder. Creating great art requires great sacrifices too, because if you aren’t unhappy, if you’re not suffering, then you won’t create great art.”
Jimmy nodded. “Well said, man. Well said.”
I turned to him. “So I think I should punch you in the face and rob you right now, then leave you here.”
“What? Why??”
“So you can suffer. I’d be doing it for your own good man.”
“Um, thanks man,” he laughed. “I really appreciate your looking out for me. Really. But I’m okay with being happy for now.”
We laughed and continued down the dark gothic-lined street, as the ashen faces watched us and crestfallen edifices surrounded us.
. . .
Do you think you have to be unhappy to create great art?
I don’t win many awards. Hardly any, in fact. So it was a big surprise when I won the Program Guide Cover Contest for DECA’s NY Conference in high school for a second year in a row.
The main speaker was pretty surprised too, apparently. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
DECA is, according to their website: “an international association of high school and college students studying marketing, management and entrepreneurship in business, finance, hospitality and marketing sales and service.”
My high school had a chapter and one of my teachers encouraged me to join. It was her who suggested I enter the Program Guide Cover Contest as well.
The first year, I drew the NY state flag. It was pretty awesome, if I say so myself.
At the conference, the speaker brought me onto the stage and presented me with a $100 check. For a high school student, that’s a lot of money. I brought a ton of comic books and candy with that money.
Our high school also won another award that year. So that, plus my Cover Contest award, meant we had one kick-ass high school. Our school was mighty proud.
The next year, I won again with a drawing of the Statue of Liberty. Another awesome drawing, I humbly admit.
The speaker rattled off the winners of the various contests. When he got to the Program Guide Cover Contest, my classmates howled before he even said my name. They continued to cheer as I walked onto the stage.
Then I noticed something wrong.
The speaker wasn’t looking at me. His arm wasn’t extended like it was last year. I didn’t see a check in his hand. But I know he announced my name; my whole table heard him.
I walked over to him anyways, thinking perhaps the check was in his pocket or something.
The room fell silent. The speaker stood there for a few moments, eyes glazed. He silently shook my hand. I said, “Thank you,” though I’m not sure why. Then I retreated off the stage.
Back at my table, my classmates were still howling. Only this time, they weren’t cheering, they were laughing.
I think it was Dave who was the first to say, “Mike, I don’t think you were supposed to go up there this year!”
They realized this when I was halfway to the stage. The speaker continued rattling off contest winners without pause. My classmates shouted at me to return, but by that time, I was on autopilot.
When I got on the stage, the speaker had no clue who I was. I’m surprised he even shook my hand. I wonder what he was thinking when this random Chinese kid walked onto the stage with him and shook his hand.
And after that, I never entered any more DECA Program Guide Cover Contests.
. . .
Have you ever won any awards?
It’s finally happened! This site has been redesigned. Oh happy happy joy joy! You can finally let go of your breath now.
This site is now centered on my Rambles, weekly stories on random topics published on Sunday nights (usually, although if life gets busy, I may miss a Sunday). I decided to make my Rambles the main attraction because that’s what the vast majority of you seem to want.
(And if not, please let me know what you DO want!) (And no, I’m not going to give you free porn.)
I’m using WordPress to power this site now. If you’re not familiar with WordPress, it’s a popular blogging tool that comes with many pre-made features so site owners like me don’t have to build them all ourselves.
The most significant features and changes from WordPress are:
- Comments: You can now write a comment to any Ramble and share a story of yours.
- Categories: Each Ramble is now associated with one or more Categories. Gone are the “Related links” after each entry; instead, you can browse an entry’s categories to find related stories.
- Different URLs: My sincerest apologies for any inconvenience the change in URLs may cause you; there was no easy way to preserve the URLs from the old design.
- New design: Well, this one is obvious. The new design is not my own; I took elements of existing designs out there and created this conglomerate. The elements are:
- WPThemes.info – Specifically, the Fast Track theme, which won the Pixel Perfect Award from the WordPress 1.5 Theme Competition (congrats!)
- famfamfam.com – Some from the Silk Icons set
- graphicPUSH – Some from the Blog Icons set
- ChinaRed – The background image from this theme
- SF MOMA – I took that photo myself of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art
I have to give props to the designers who created these elements. Awesome job! Thank you for creating these and allowing random people like me to download and use them!
In the next few weeks, you’ll see more changes coming. Like any good ole’ site, this design is a work in progress. I would put up a “Under Construction” sign right now if I could, but then I’d need to accompany it with a spinning logo and flaming skulls. And I’d never be able to forgive myself for that.
The About section will definitely change. The list of Categories and Monthly Archives is a bit unwieldy, so I’ll need to rethink that a bit too. I liked how my old design gave me room to show the current books I’m reading (which is probably more interesting to me than it is to you), so I’d like to find a way to work that back in somehow.
Even though I’m using WordPress, I’d like to stress one point: this site is not technically a “blog.” Of course, you’re free to call it that if it floats your boat. To me, it’s not a blog because a blog is more personal, more journal-like, and is updated daily (or semi-daily).
These Rambles are writing experiments and exercises that I make sure I do just about every week. While many entries encapsulate my actual experiences and opinions, some are entirely fictional. As such, I’ve gone back and revised a few old entries (and have entirely rewritten others).
Here’s one way to look at it: Just as a muscle can’t get stronger without exercise, these entries are my way of exercising my mind. Otherwise, how can I be a better writer?
Here’s another way: Everything here is just practice. So if it sucks, it’s just, um, practice. Yea.
WordPress removes much of the chore and behind-the-scenes code maintenance that goes into this site every week, so I can concentrate just on writing. (Thank you WordPress!) I hope you like this new design. And of course, thank YOU for reading!
And now, for some free porn.
. . .
What do you think of this new design?
I finally got one! An iPod! Along with a Belkin Tunecast and an XtremeMac Car Charger. And you know what?
I give them all a thumbs down.
I purchased a 10gb iPod. I opted for the smaller one (instead of the 15gb or 30gb) despite my library of over 6000 mp3s because of it’s upgradability. The iPod, basically, is not upgradable.
You cannot switch out the hard drive and replace it with a larger one. Once you buy a 10gb iPod, you’re stuck with 10gb. You can’t keep the same device and upgrade it to a 30gb—you’d have to buy a whole new device.
Same goes for the rechargeable battery. Both are built into the device.
There are ways to hack this. Several web sites exist to provide solutions for the iPod’s lack of upgradability. However, it royally sucks that Apple doesn’t allow this off-the-shelf.
Worse, the battery life is rumored to have a life of about two years. After that, it dies. So after two years, you’d either have to buy a new iPod or hack the device and install a new battery. Awful.
The interface is another issue. Apple is known for easy-to-use interfaces. The iPod’s interface, to me, is clunky.
Perhaps for a non-technically-savvy user, it’s easy. Perhaps I’m not part of the target audience for this device.
I could swear I am. But maybe this is really aimed at my grandma. Maybe it’s for her to store the 128kbps—192kbps mp3 files she queries and retrieves from the shared host machines via the Internet with one of her peer-to-peer applications that she downloaded and installed on her laptop computer. Since she’s not technically savvy at all, she needs a simple interface like an iPod.
One of the most confusing aspects of the interface is the “previous song” button. It looks like it would be a “back” button you could use as you traverse its hierarchal menus. It’s not. The “menu” button does that. The “previous song” button simply plays the previous song.
What a shame it’s placed on the far left, where you’d expect a “back” button to be.
It’s not always clear when you’re supposed to press the “select” button as well. For some menu choices, you hit “select” to activate a setting. For others, “select” will go back a menu.
But wait, I thought “menu” goes back a menu? Huh?
Now onto the Belkin Tunecast. This device is similar to the more popular iRock. It transmits the iPod’s music onto four FM frequencies: 88.1, 88.3, 88.5, and 88.7.
Unfortunately, the problem for me stems from the frequencies to which it can broadcast. When the Tunecast broadcasts to an unused frequency, it does it fairly well; I can hear the song loud and clear.
Unused frequencies, however, are the issue. All four of those frequencies are taken by radio stations in the Bay Area. And I’m sure I’m not the only iPod user here with a Tunecast, especially with an Apple office so close to my office.
With competing frequencies, the car radio phases back and forth from iPod to radio station. Worse—inside of tunnels, where you’d expect only outside broadcasts to be interrupted, both outside and inside iPod broadcasts are interrupted.
Oddly enough, after an extended drive, the iPod display had a noticeable distortion at the top—right where the Tunecast connected to it. Does the Tunecast cause some heat damage to the iPod’s display? If so, that would really suck.
Lastly, if you decide to purchase a XtremeMac Car Charger and have one of the newer, slimmer iPods, make sure you get the 30-pin connector. XtremeMac sells a car charger with an industry standard IEEE 1394 FireWire plug. Unfortunately, the new iPods don’t use this; they take a 30-pin connector instead.
I am now the proud owner of a XtremeMac Car Charger with a FireWire plug that is utterly useless to me.
All in all, my first iPod experience was quite a let-down. A total thumbs down. But this is the best mp3 player on the market, according to reviews. So it’ll have to do for now.
. . .
What do you think of the iPod?
“Today, our nation saw evil,
the very worst of human nature.
And we responded with the best of America—
with the daring of our rescue workers,
with the caring for strangers and neighbors
who came to give blood
and help in any way they could.”
- G. W. Bush
“The purpose of architecture is to create
an atmosphere in which man can live, work, and enjoy.”
- M. Yamasaki
“Don’t Rebuild. Reimagine,” says the New York Times Magazine of the site of the World Trade Center. And so a group of leading architects met to discuss what could be done.
This came after the Lower Manhattan Development Corporation, the organization formed by New York Governor George Pataki and then-New York Mayor Rudolph Giuliani to oversee the rebuilding of the WTC site, came up with six proposals.
The six proposals were rejected, and now the LMDC has initiated a month-long design study for up to five teams of architects, developers, and artists.
Rebuilding the site of WTC isn’t going to be an easy task. Much of the city divided between whether to create two tall buildings (to replace the WTC) or avoiding tall buildings. Then there are other issues (the site has a combination of owners with differing interests, from New York City and State to New Jersey to private enterprises Westfield America and Larry Silverstein).
Replacing the WTC wouldn’t be easy either. World Trade Center’s Twin Towers were both 1350 ft high (110 stories tall). This made them the fifth and sixth tallest buildings in the world. Architects Minoru Yamasaki and Emery Roth designed the seven buildings of the WTC, though their names seem to be absent from the list of architects vying to rebuild the site.
The architects in the NY Times Magazine article envisioned more than just rebuilding or replacing WTC. They looked at the rest of Lower Manhattan as well.
In the 1800s and early 1900s, Greenwich Street ran south from Greenwich Village down to the southern tip of Manhattan. Then businessmen David and Nelson Rockerfeller approached the Port Authority, a NY-NJ-owned transit organization, to build a towering financial center in Lower Manhattan and stem the tide of business leaving downtown to for the livelier midtown.
Now that the WTC no longer stands, it is possible to look down Greenwich Street again and see the shore. All of the architecture plans for this project intend to keep this street open.
The visions for Lower Manhattan extend even further than that. The Civic Alliance, a group formed by the Regional Plan Association, is tackling this issue through a coalition of private and public organizations, including New York University (my alma mater and one of the largest landowners in NYC)
In the past, it was the wealthy that dictated what would be built in the city. Now organizations like LMDC and the Civic Alliance are turning to the community for their opinions. And the result is a lively yet widely varying set of voices, leading to the formation of other groups, like New York New Visions, Rebuild Downtown Our Town, and Community Board 1.
The NY Times Magazine architects interjected artistic values into the construction as well. Even Maya Lin was consulted on the memorial design. Their designs range from contemporary to Art Deco.
But whatever the aesthetic, there’s been a consensus to keep the major streets open, like Greenwich, to have a cultural institution (whether it be an opera house, museum, or something else), and to have a memorial designed by some kind of public process. Other top plans include expanding residential housing and providing better commercial venues.
Lower Manhattan in the 20th Century has typically been about the hustle and bustle of Wall Street in the daytime and quiet, empty streets at night and on weekends. Through developments like Battery City Park and South Street Seaport, both built on landfills, some weekend commerce and residential living has come about.
This disaster has brought about a renewed interest in NYC and it’s history. The site of the WTC will undoubtedly be a tourist attraction for years to come, but it will also serve as a symbol of the resilience of the city as well as become a cultural center for our grandchildren.
All of these ideas give me a lot of hope. September 11th, 2001 came during the tail end of the Dot-com bubble, just as many businesses were leaving Lower Manhattan and NYC. Even more have left since 9/11, but out of this disaster is coming hope.
Hope that a more united community will have a voice in rebuilding and improving a treasured and historical part of the New York City.
. . .
What do you think of the new WTC development?
“Three? You mean three? Three million. It’s three million lira,” Jo gasped. “That’s… fifteen thousand dollars Mike.”
Alfredo smiled and repeated his words in Italian again. Jo turned to me and translated, “Quality. This is quality.” She nodded in unison with him.
I walked over to the large, gold-plated frame and studied it’s intricate patterns. It was gilded with 24-karat gold with tiny patterns incised into the wood and gold. It took him several months to finish, he told us.
Alfredo lead Jo over to a counter full of photographs, newspapers, and books. He spoke and Jo translated, “He has six? No, five kids. They are…”
He picked up a black and white photo of five smiling faces surrounded by a gold-encrusted frame.
“…they are all musicians,” Jo continued while Alfredo talked. I looked up from the gold-plated frame and approached them, smiling at the picture.
“This one plays the… piano? Piano. This one plays the violin. This one… what?” Jo looked at Alfredo and cocked her head. He repeated himself, gesturing emphatically with his hands as he spoke. “Oh, this one also plays the violin. And this one the viola. And this one the cello.”
Alfredo smiled and nodded.
“Wow, that’s wonderful, Alfredo!” she cheered. “You must be very proud!”
He blinked, not quite understanding. Then I pointed at a small piece of art hanging on the wall.
Alfredo made a grand gesture with his hands then pointed to the lower left corner of the painting.
“That’s him. Oh, he painted this picture. That’s his signature.”
He beamed with pride and repeated his name.
As I studied the gentle brushwork, he walked to his workbench and picked up an egg shell.
“This is made with eggs!” Jo exclaimed. Alfredo grinned and continued. “And… and what? Minerals? Eggs and minerals?”
He pointed to the back of the room and led us to a shelf full of bottles. What looked like clumps of dirt rested in those bottles.
Alfredo took a clump of dirt out and gestured with it.
“That’s a mineral that he uses,” Jo said.
He smiled and put it on his lip and moved his hands away. It remained stuck there. We laughed and he smiled. The clump of mineral didn’t fall even when he grinned.
“That’s great, Alfredo! Eggs and minerals! That’s amazing!” Jo cheered. He put the clump back and scrambled back to the counter. We cast a sideways glance at the bottles before following him.
He opened a large art book and showed us a page. It was a full-color glossy photograph of him illustrating a long article about his life and his art. His name, Alfredo Barutti, stood out on top in strong, bold characters.
“This guy is famous!” Jo bellowed incredulously. “Holy shit!”
Alfredo picked up a small piece of paper and handed it to her. I walked by her side and looked at it.
It was a photocopied clip of an article from the New York Times, dated June 24, 1990.
“Alfredo Barutti, Gilder,” it was titled.
VENICE – Alfredo Barutti’s first love was music, but his father insisted that he learn a trade. He became a gilder, but when he had a family of his own, he encouraged his children to study music.
All five did so and became accomplished musicians. Now Mr. Barutti, who is 65 years old, has a family of musicians, but no one to continue his own dying art, which dates to the Middle Ages.
In his shop, El Dorador, at No. 4231 on the Campo Manin near the Ponte della Cortesia, Mr. Barutti designs and makes frames, mirrors and other furniture, carving and gilding it all by hand.
Jo and I stared at each other in amazement. We had no idea we had wandered into the Campo Manin.
The thrill of the Carnevale had somehow directed us in this direction, and the chill of the air forced us to seek shelter in a tiny open hallway which lead directly to Alfredo’s shop.
What a random encounter. I looked back at the article and skipped to the last paragraph.
Because he doesn’t have an apprentice or a child willing to learn the craft, Mr. Barutti is collecting his notes and pictures of his work in a book, which he hopes will someday benefit someone interested in pursuing his craft.
I looked up and smiled.
“Um, I’m not sure what he’s saying,” Jo whispered. Alfredo pointed at the article and rattled on without waiting for Jo to translate.
My mind wandered back to San Francisco, when I had decided to build an art collection. I wanted pieces that were created by friends and acquaintances, or had special meaning to them.
Part of the intent was to encourage the creative yearnings of budding artists and to support those who imbued special meaning into their work.
This random encounter with Alfredo and his artwork sparked something in me. That this father of five would spend months on one piece of art showed to me that he put a lot of heart into his work.
That he was sharing so much of himself—albeit with a healthy dose of pride—with strangers such as us stirred something inside.
I gestured towards a small gold frame.
“One… One million. That’s one million lira. Uh… that’s five hundred dollars Mike.”
I recoiled slightly. I knew that buying art wasn’t going to be cheap, especially for true quality work. But with a bunch of college loans, travel costs, a car lease, and other expenses to pay off—five hundred dollars? No can do.
“It’s pure? Pure. It’s pure gold on this little frame.”
I looked at a slightly smaller frame. Alfredo lifted it off the hook and put it in my hands.
“Six hundred thousand lira. That’s… three hundred dollars.”
Gulp. Not quite at my range yet. Some art collector I was turning out to be. Guess I’m going to have to wait a few years for my savings to have enough leeway to spend on non-essential expenses. Drat.
The spark wasn’t dead yet though.
Though it wasn’t exactly what he was known for, I pointed at the egg and mineral painting again. Again, Alfredo pointed at his name proudly.
“Two hundred thousand. That’s a hundred dollars.”
I gently picked up the painting and examined it. It’s monotone browns and tans over a light beige octagonal canvas revealed a scene that could only be Venice—beautiful gondolas drifting through the Canal Grande.
“This is the… San Maria della… Salute,” Jo stated as Alfredo pointed to a magnificant structure in the far background of the image.
“And look! Gondolas!” she added.
There was something about this painting that took root in me. Sure, it wasn’t one of the gold-gilded frames that he’s known for, but it was still a beautiful piece of art—a beautiful piece of art that helped visualize this special and unique trip.
I dug into my pocket and counted out two hundred thousand lira.
“This will be to remember our trip to Venice by,” I smiled at Jo. She hugged me and Alfredo gave us a big toothy grin.
. . .
Do you know any gilders?
Here’s a funny phenomenon:
Every time you put a new web designer on a project, he/she simply MUST redesign the site.
I have yet to find one that is comfortable with the current “look and feel.” All of them simply have to put their own stamp on it.
And I’m not going to lie. I’m guilty of this too.
Why? An extra portfolio piece? A greater sense of ownership? To feed the ego? Or all of the above?
A redesign makes some sense though. After all, why would you hire a web designer if you didn’t want a new look and feel? If you wanted someone to maintain the graphics on your site, you’d hire a graphic productionist, not a web designer.
And of course you want to change your look and feel.
Of course you do.
Web sites change their visual design on an average of twice a year. Major eCommerce sites change their visual design on an average once a year.
Design trends change just as fast. So to keep up with the current design trends, you simply must redesign your site.
You wouldn’t want to look passé, would you?
Of course not.
But don’t worry, redesigning your site is easy.
Just find any ole’ web designer. I’m sure every one out there will want to redesign your site. Because none of them like what your current site looks like. Your site already looks outdated. And all of them want an extra portfolio piece.
Including me.
So, do you want a redesign?
. . .
Want a redesign?
What’s with the tiny fonts designers seem to love nowadays?
Have you seen them? Some of the nicest designed sites (those that are considered at the cutting edge of web design) use the tiniest of tiny font sizes possible. And they use it for their main copy too.
I’m talking about this. Super ultra tiny type. It’s fine for copyrights and special cases. But as main body copy? Pul-leeze.
Why? Please tell me. I really want to know. Please tell me why?
I hadn’t minded it that much when I used huge 21″ monitors. But I was just issued a laptop at work, and reading tiny type on a laptop’s screen is excruciating. My eyes begin to water after trying to weed through the first few sentences. And I’m not hard of sight either.
What’s worse is that these designers deny a user’s right to change the default font size of their browser.
With the introduction of stylesheets, it seems that many designers have jumped at the chance of using familiar offline type measurements without a care for their readers—they’ve specified their web page fonts to always and forever be at 10pts (or even lower).
Changing the browser’s font size is futile. You’d have to override the web page’s stylesheet in order to read the text easily. But (of course there’s a but) then you lose all of that pages’ styles. And many of these same designers rely on these styles to design their pages.
Ugh.
Here’s a solution to those stylesheet woes: Understanding Em, an article that originally appeared on Web Review about using EM measurements instead of point measurements for type. With this method, users can change their font sizes and still retain the stylesheet settings. Happy, happy. Joy, joy!
But back to my first question: why are so-called cutting edge web designers using tiny type sizes nowadays?
I think it has something to do with the direction typography trends are heading. There’s a movement towards illegible type as illustration; the grungier and harder-to-read the type, the more cutting edge it appears.
Some designs are intentionally difficult to read and force the reader to squint and stare for minutes before comprehending the full message.
Another part may have something to do with the value of screen space, or screen real estate, as it’s called. There’s a lot of content that designers try to cram into a limited amount of space, and to make sure the reader sees all of it, they make the font as tiny as possible.
Yet another reason could be a backlash against the use of large type sizes. Some snooty designers consider large type sizes a mark of amateurism. So they jump in the other direction in a paranoid retreat and use tiny type sizes.
Lastly, it may just be because they like how it looks.
Whatever the reason, I hope they stop doing it. It’s poor usability and makes for a poor web experience. Why would I want to visit (and revisit) a site that is difficult to read?
The screen is a poor medium in which to read as compared to print. Furthermore, a computer monitor is unhealthy for the eyes, especially for a long and strained duration.
Strong contrast is the best way to make digital text readable. Tiny type decreases the contrast of the type. Just as you wouldn’t place text over a busy, high contrast background, don’t use tiny type.
Thank you for reading and helping to make the web an easier place to surf.
. . .
What do you think of tiny type?
