Art is very subjective. One person’s favorite is another’s hated reject.
But when art meets commerce — what used to be called, “commercial art,” there is another standard. It must communicate.
The artists behind the signage of the new Littleton Village, a residential and commercial development near my home, crossed the edge a little too far:
1. At each edge of the main corner’s signage area, there are two obelisks that look like something from a science fiction movie.
2. During the day, shadows hinder readability of the development’s name.
3. What’s with those white vertical stripes? Before the development name went up, I thought they were giant adhesive strips to adhere the development’s name. No. They are not lighted, either. And then there are a bunch of holes that look like ventilation for an underground chamber.
Why not make things better than what real life offers?
That’s the idea Andy Hildebrand applied to sound when he was working for Exxon. His technology has been applied to alter the sound of a tune so that the pitch is always perfect. But like many good things, it can be overdone. A tune can be altered to sound like a robot is singing.
Many popular musicians love this technology. When applied minimally, it can improve a musician’s ability to hit a note properly. When applied to the maximum, it will produce that robot effect.
And I get to hear robots every day. The building I work in has a Muzak music subscription service, and they chose the Auto-Tune channel to play all the time — in the halls and in the bathrooms.
Thankfully, Auto-Tune does not intrude into my office. Never shall it pass those doors.
(And I’ve written about this before. It’s a subject that is near and dear to my heart.)
I love spotting the shiny bits — the things that pass most people by — the details.
(And that’s why I love hanging out with, living with and working with those who see the big picture. Contrast is healthy for our souls.)
In Fort Collins a few weeks ago, I spotted the back of this Honda. You’ll note it says “Fit” on the left and “Jazz” on the right.
In America, the smallest Honda is the Fit. It’s called the Jazz in the rest of the world. The owner of this car appreciated that fact enough to find a badge from both places.
I love it!!
(And I love Fits. We have one.)
New windows for an old building… sometimes that doesn’t work.
Seeing this gap reminded me of reading a great phrase someone really smart once said: “no one puts new wine into old wineskins.”
And that made me think of the gaps that are all over Colorado’s roads. The extreme heat and cold we experience — and the water that seeps underneath our road beds — cause all manner of cracks and holes to appear — and gradually become larger and larger.
Road repair budgets are not what they used to be, so car repair bills related to tires and wheels are becoming commonplace.
Why can’t a smart engineer-type invent an inexpensive elastic road surface that will expand and contract with the changes in weather and precipitation? This surface would need to provide a uniform surface — as in, very smooth.
Know anyone up for the challenge?
In 2004, I bought this Adobe suite of software. At the time, it was the full complement of software that the world’s best graphic designers would use to create their artwork.
(The current cloud-based version still fills that role.)
I paid something like $700 — and at the time, the regular full price was north of $1,000.
Today? That software is useless. It’s not worth a penny.
The computers it would run on have long since been retired.
And even though the core functionality of that suite of software hasn’t changed, no one would buy that old version.
At least we still hold value when we get older. Our core functionality isn’t that much different, though there are newer faster versions.