On the matter of design
This, naturally, is Blackbird's damn fault. I see that Badge jumped on her FPM (Friday Photo Meme) thing and since this can only be clicked BBwards and no further, the fault lies with her. I have no idea of where the wire thingy to connect the camera to the laptop went, so in lieu of that, I offer a wildly nonvisual ramble.
I am, of course, a sucker for design. It's impossible to be a fan of classic Italian sports cars without being a sucker for design. In my case this line runs to automotive and industrial/domestic design on one side, and to architecture on the other. Thus, I sit agape and marvel at the gorgeous lines of even the car that sucks, a timeless design* by the late, legendary Battista Pininfarina and wonderfully updated by his son Sergio.
Most of the collectible sports cars are not cars whose designs (and costs) made them the darlings of the gold-chain crowd. The Ferrari Testarossa, the 365GT4 and 412i languishe at auctions while the cheaper 246 Dino, 275GTB and 328GTS siblings all continue to show appreciation in value. The same applies to Maseratis and Alfa Romeos and Lancias.
Not all great design is evocatively beautiful. Some just presses my whimsy button, which is why I love Michael Graves stuff, in spite of/because of the fact he has a very successful line at Target. MG's stuff has that sort of whimsical elegance that can both stand out or recede quietly. I love it, and more often than not, I am dazzled by the intelligence of its design as I am smiling at the silly cleverness of the spatula, alarm clock or spice mill.
More than anything else, good design has an obsessive fondness for the end-user. I was reading a review of an electronic something or other in Home Theater magazine when I was struck by the following: "This looks like it was designed by people who have to use it every day." That sentiment dovetails with something Sergio Pininfarina said in an interview 5-6 years ago, to the effect he designs cars not only to please their owner, but to please others who may see it. I suppose this explains my casual observation that Porsche or BMW drivers suffer more eye-daggers than Ferrari or Alfa drivers, even though the formers are relatively more affordable than the latters.
At its height, great design is a beacon, a white-hot pinpoint where beauty and intelligence meet and intersect for a one-night stand that reverberates through the visual history of a place. For my money, the apex of this sort of experience is in Vicenza, Italy. This is where Andrea Palladio did most of his greatest work. It's amazing when you consider most of this great work consisted of private residences and not gummint buildings or cathedrals or anything like that (although he did those as well). Yes, sure, granted, these were palatial digs--whence springs the term palladian--but the fact is that tour groups were not traipsing through these places for centuries and STILL Palladio gets universally acknowledged as a big deal architect.
Like most things I love, I came to Palladio purely by accident. I was opening stuff after one Christmas when I ripped open a set of Andras Kaldor architectural serigraphs of the great Opera Houses & Theatres of Europe. Included among these was Palladio's Teatro Olimpico and I was smitten. Balanced, clean, classical lines made me feel like a groupie with an all-access backstage pass at Live-Aid. Naturally, I needed to dig further and that, brings us here today.
Maybe I'll rummage for the wire thingy and post stuff.
-Joke
* It was, in fact, his very last design before he died and his son Sergio took over the company.
I am, of course, a sucker for design. It's impossible to be a fan of classic Italian sports cars without being a sucker for design. In my case this line runs to automotive and industrial/domestic design on one side, and to architecture on the other. Thus, I sit agape and marvel at the gorgeous lines of even the car that sucks, a timeless design* by the late, legendary Battista Pininfarina and wonderfully updated by his son Sergio.
Most of the collectible sports cars are not cars whose designs (and costs) made them the darlings of the gold-chain crowd. The Ferrari Testarossa, the 365GT4 and 412i languishe at auctions while the cheaper 246 Dino, 275GTB and 328GTS siblings all continue to show appreciation in value. The same applies to Maseratis and Alfa Romeos and Lancias.
Not all great design is evocatively beautiful. Some just presses my whimsy button, which is why I love Michael Graves stuff, in spite of/because of the fact he has a very successful line at Target. MG's stuff has that sort of whimsical elegance that can both stand out or recede quietly. I love it, and more often than not, I am dazzled by the intelligence of its design as I am smiling at the silly cleverness of the spatula, alarm clock or spice mill.
More than anything else, good design has an obsessive fondness for the end-user. I was reading a review of an electronic something or other in Home Theater magazine when I was struck by the following: "This looks like it was designed by people who have to use it every day." That sentiment dovetails with something Sergio Pininfarina said in an interview 5-6 years ago, to the effect he designs cars not only to please their owner, but to please others who may see it. I suppose this explains my casual observation that Porsche or BMW drivers suffer more eye-daggers than Ferrari or Alfa drivers, even though the formers are relatively more affordable than the latters.
At its height, great design is a beacon, a white-hot pinpoint where beauty and intelligence meet and intersect for a one-night stand that reverberates through the visual history of a place. For my money, the apex of this sort of experience is in Vicenza, Italy. This is where Andrea Palladio did most of his greatest work. It's amazing when you consider most of this great work consisted of private residences and not gummint buildings or cathedrals or anything like that (although he did those as well). Yes, sure, granted, these were palatial digs--whence springs the term palladian--but the fact is that tour groups were not traipsing through these places for centuries and STILL Palladio gets universally acknowledged as a big deal architect.
Like most things I love, I came to Palladio purely by accident. I was opening stuff after one Christmas when I ripped open a set of Andras Kaldor architectural serigraphs of the great Opera Houses & Theatres of Europe. Included among these was Palladio's Teatro Olimpico and I was smitten. Balanced, clean, classical lines made me feel like a groupie with an all-access backstage pass at Live-Aid. Naturally, I needed to dig further and that, brings us here today.
Maybe I'll rummage for the wire thingy and post stuff.
-Joke
* It was, in fact, his very last design before he died and his son Sergio took over the company.
Comments
btw, it is SHOW AND TELL not a meme.
memes as just soooo last winter.
-Joke
I'm scared of her.
My point is that when they were both new, the 246 was FAR cheaper than the 365...but which one is going for $100K at Barrett-Jackson these days? The Dino.
Now, the 308GTB was a quick and dirty something from Pininfarina who was miffed that Ferrari awarded the 308GT4 contract to Bertone. In order to make it mo' gorgeous, there were compromises made that weren't really rectified until the 328GTB, and even those took a few years of production.By the time Farrari had nailed down the thing, it was time for the 348 to be launched. The 348 was, styling-wise, a scaled-down Testarossa and the auction prices reflect that.
-Joke