What design can do
I believe that design can be all encompassing, a powerful tool that can solve mighty problems.

Love Begins
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
ojovivo
$LAYYYTER
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I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
todays bird
Claire Keane
KIROKAZE

JVL
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almost home
wallacepolsom
YOU ARE THE REASON
hello vonnie

#extradirty

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Aqua Utopiaď˝ćľˇăŽĺşă§č¨ćśăç´Ąă

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@venusri
What design can do
I believe that design can be all encompassing, a powerful tool that can solve mighty problems.
Global Futures Symposium in Rome, Italy - MAXXI Museum
Paula Gaetano Adi, a noted artist and an associate professor at RISD played a video of her robot, a ball made of electronics and mud, in action. I was confused. Whatâs the purpose?
I registered for the Global Futures Symposium weeks before I left for Rome. The event was a culmination of the work from the Global Futures Labs conducted in various design institutions in different parts of the world. The resulting work, envisioning culturally relevant futures, was displayed in the exhibition Souvenirs from the Futures.
Besides the mud ball robots, there were other ideas presented - reusing the gas emitted by bovine creatures (basically, bovine farts), that toed the line of impossibility. But isnât anything possible these days? While Tegan Bristow, an interactive media artist from South Africa, spoke against globalization if Africa wanted a better future, Saeid Aliari, Industrial designer from Iran thought globalization is the best way to realize a better future.
The biggest take away for me, as a practicing designer, was from the talk given by Stephanie Tharp and Bruce Tharp. They are trying to standardize the language of design, from what I understood, and ran through a list of terms and definitions that can be used to better communicate design work to others (not just non-designers).
As one of the audience members, while asking Paula Gaetano Adi a question, spouted something along the lines of âYou just created a ballâ, I wondered how many others in the audience felt that way. I later spoke to Praveen Nahar, senior faculty at the National Institute of Design, who referred to the work presented as speculative design. It definitely made better sense.
In the forest
Treebeard, Merry, and Pippin have just gone to sleep. That sparkling clear water that completely healed and rejuvenated the halflings just reminded me of those bottled water sold in the stores with the label âFresh Mountain Spring Waterâ or some such similar title. I always buy these, thinking that this water must be the most untouched, unprocessed, fresh water.Â
Now, I am thirsty, as everyone always is, in this ridiculously hot and humid climate. Some fresh, sparkling, spring water from under or inside a Himalayan mountain would surely taste amazing right now. Now, dear Treebeard, couldnât you send some of that water over to my house? Pass it on from leaf to leaf to bark to bark to root to root until it reaches my land?
Photo Credits: Me :D
Research: Truly Interactive Paper Posters
During my research, I came across a studio Novalia based in the UK. They do these amazing posters by printing circuits onto paper and add interactivity to the poster by using touch sensors.Â
Kate Stone, the founder, presented on TED Talk. She talks about how she got into experimenting with paper and technology and shows several examples of her studioâs work. Itâs truly inspiring!Â
Research: Thermochromic ink on paper
My whole project started off based on this paper: http://gmwgroup.harvard.edu/pubs/pdf/1062.pdf
I tried replicating this with thermochromic ink on paper, with a conductive ink pen but wasnât able to get enough current to heat the paper. For my final show in Sping 2015, I created a prototype that consisted of boards with thermochromic ink and blow dryers placed behind them to demonstrate the change of colour in the images.
Research: Thermochromic Ink
My whole project started off based on this paper: http://gmwgroup.harvard.edu/pubs/pdf/1062.pdf
I tried replicating this with thermochromic ink on paper, with a conductive ink pen but wasnât able to get enough current to heat the paper. For my final show in Sping 2015, I created a prototype that consisted of boards with thermochromic ink and blow dryers placed behind them to demonstrate the change of colour in the images.
The Romance of Storytelling on Paper: a handmade experiment
Title: Handbound Graphic Novel Tools and Methods Used : Paper Lithography, pamphlet stitch, coffee for staining paper Story: Self-authored
dongghab by Sowon Kwon.
I have recently been introduced to Artistsâ Books by one of my advisors and was loaned this wonderful artistâs book âdonghhabâ, a self-portrait authored by a Korean artist who advised my advisor when she was in grad school. The title apparently means that people born in the same year have a social relationship. Â She documents suicides and explosions that have happened in the year 1963, the year she was born. Flipping through the pages of the book, it was just weird reading all the events of suicides and murders. Then to think that this was her self-portrait, I was gradually mind-blown. A combination of art, graphic design, typography and an amazing concept, in the form of a book, and a powerful inspiration.
Picture taken from: https://blogs.princeton.edu/
Research: An enlightening reading I did for one of my first grad classes, this book changed how I looked at things - non-living things and shadows my thoughts no matter what I am working on.
Enchanted Objects
An enlightening reading assignment for one of my first grad classes, this book changed how I looked at things - non-living things and shadows my thoughts no matter what I am working on.
Graphic Novel -Â Shadows
CHAPTER IÂ
Out of the Snake Pit
1834, London
âThey be guvâs people. Doon wan te git throân in prison for nuthinâ
She turned her head to follow his voice as it moved around to the door of the hackney. It was pitch black and wet outside. For a moment she felt safe cowering inside the four walls of the hackney. She heard the door to the hackney open and hit the side with a loud bang. A burly hand grabbed her arm and tossed her to the ground. She landed on her hands and knees, her body quickly drenched in the cold rain. She felt a cold object slide inside her bodice.
âHereâs a guinneâ.â She heard pity in his voice. She half kneeled, trying to grab his arm.
âNo, please,â She tried to grab his arm, âI have more money. I can ..â They both turned towards the end of the street behind them as they heard the sound of a carriage approaching. She stared at him in horror.
âPlease, Sir, ..â
But the driver was already slapping his reins on the horses, and, drove off in a wet clop of hooves and wheels. She started running behind the hackney when she almost stumbled back to the ground. A searing pain went through her leg. She heard the carriage get nearer and nearer. She took off at a run, her feet splashing in small puddles as she ran, her coif wet and flattening onto her head.
Someone shouted behind her. She glanced behind her. To her utter horror, she saw three burly men running after her. They were not that further behind her. She didnât know where she was running to but she ran.Â
One of the burly fools chasing after her had slipped, causing confusion among the men. Through the rain, she saw small ramshackle buildings lining either side of the narrow street but no sight of people anywhere. Her mind tried to trick her into a sense of complacency, letting her think she had put a good amount of distance between herself and the fools chasing her, but she knew better. The pig never gave up on his properties. He either brought them back to be tortured or killed them mercilessly. She didnât stop.
She dashed through a narrow opening between two buildings only to come out into a wider street. Here, gas lamps dotted the street at irregular intervals. Why arenât there any people here? Would she be able to find a hackney here? This area seemed a little better off than the one the hackney stopped in. She felt her body slowing down, one of her legs that had gone completely numb was not helping her frantic urge to run to safety. She wiped wet tendrils from her eyes as she looked around her surroundings. Empty alleys, sinister looking shacks, and short, squat buildings passed in a wet blur around her. She whipped her head this way and that, looking for dark corners as she half-ran, half-limped through the streets, trying to find a place that would allow her some moments to herself before they caught her. Or even better, killed her. She shivered in the rain that had already dampened her dress.
A shadow flickered at the corner of her eye. She whirled around and took a step back. Her leg stepped into a muddy puddle and collapsed under her. An excruciating pain engulfed her body. She looked down to see streaks of mud coated her entire being. The rain continued to wash away the tears that have been pouring out unbeknownst to her. She choked on her sobs as she tried to get some breath back into her lungs. She raised her head and spied a dark corner just a few feet away from her.
Panting, she raised herself onto her arms. She heaved her hips an inch forward, her arms shaking, threatening to collapse under her. She groped the slippery ground for footing as she slowly found her way to the darkness, her dress bunching and slithering out of the puddle behind her. She flailed her hands around her, her fingers coming into contact with a rough wall that abraded her bruised fingers. She crawled as far as she could and rested her head against the wall.
She licked the raindrops from her lips and, let out a heavy breath. Images and thoughts swirled in her head. A groom with a perturbed expression standing amidst beautiful arrangements of purple orchids and delphiniums, the child with his toffee eyes and chestnut curls who must be crying for her even now, the mistakes she made. More tears slipped out of her eyes as shame and guilt washed over her.
She froze as she heard a slow series of squelching sounds approaching the alleyway. She knew that saunter. She had heard those slow, relaxed footsteps on hardwood floors and on expensive carpets. They paused right outside the circle of darkness she was in. She held her breath and didnât let it go when the disgusting pig of a man walked away.
In the forest
Treebeard, Merry, and Pippin have just gone to sleep. That sparkling clear water that completely healed and rejuvenated the halflings just reminded me of those bottled water sold in the stores with the label âFresh Mountain Spring Waterâ or some such similar title. I always buy these, thinking that thinking that this water must be the most untouched, unprocessed, fresh water.Â
Now, I am thirsty, as everyone always is, in this ridiculously hot and humid climate. Some fresh, sparkling, spring water from under or inside a Himalayan mountain would surely taste amazing right now. Now, dear Treebeard, couldnât you send some of that water over to my house? Maybe pass it on from leaf to leaf to bark to bark to root to root until it reaches my land?
About Me
I believe that design is all encompassing.