Thursday, June 25, 2009

The Splayd




Ok, I've never personally seen or used this object, but I'm fascinated by the graphic and the analysis of the Splayd, and the concept that one utensil could serve all these purposes. There are two issues here:

1) What are the advantages of reducing our utensils down to one? Is this a gimick, or is it really useful and practical?

2) The idea of using this diagram as a model for showing the overlap between other like but dissimilar designs (for example, my telephone and my iPod) could create other sweet 'object mash-ups' (the iPhone, in fact, if I use my previous example). I like that idea of simplification.

Link to original post from the ragbag.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Moleskines


I just recently picked up two new Moleskines for my collection. Moleskines are kind of the ultimate artsy-fartsy accessory. I have quite a few of them, and I love them for more than the status symbol that they convey as an object. They are beautifully designed notebooks, and speak to a certain aesthetic, which I happen to hold quite dear.

Simple, small, practical and pleasing to the touch. My preferred versions are the larger side-opening note pads, small sketch books and the hardcover day planner (although I don't use it for day planning, because it doesn't quite fulfill my needs on that). I'm going to focus here on the side-opening note pad, because it's the one that I've managed to complete the most of (I think I'm up to 4 now in the last 2 years).

Some features I like: the texture of the paper, the fact that the binding opens all the way up to allow you to cover every square inch of the paper (and to make full layouts if you so desire), the pocket in the back, the last few pages with perforations so you can rip them out if you need to give a phone number or a open or a sketch, the elastic band which stretches just enough to fit a pen inside, and the fact that the notebook itself is just about the length of a pen, so you're not adding any extra space by hooking your pen in that way.

What don't I like about these Moleskines? Not much. Basically the same things I dislike about all other forms of handwritten notebooks: it's hard to write when you're in the first pages because your wrist raises off the table, the slipperiness of certain inks and the blotting through for some types of inks on the reporter paper, the fact that I never have anything of any value to write about. Otherwise, what is there to complain about? It's simple, well thought-out and customizable—the way I think most consumer objects should be.

Speaking of customizable, I use the day planner as a daily journal: two sentences each day about my reflections, and a sentence of reflection. In the opposite page, I reflect on the whole week with some terse statements and feelings about what I've experienced. This leaves a lot of stuff I haven't figured out how to use in the planner: personal data, address book, travel planning. I have started using the yearly planner to write in the big events of the year, so I can either plan in advance or document them in just one word. It's a work in progress.

Update on the Tropicana box

They had not sold out of these boxes at one of my grocery stores, and I'm now the proud owner of one of those neat little orange caps. Now if only I had the proper collection place to display such things.

The Worst Shower on the Planet



How would I define worst? I actually had a pretty nice shower, once it was a shower and not a bath. Worst would mean absolutely least intuitive with the least clues possible for my success at showering. All I wanted was to take a stupid shower.

I like to think I'm pretty good at figuring things out. I spend a lot of time thinking about design, I'm frequently called to fix broken things, and I have a damn degree in mechanical engineering. None of those things helped me make this shower work. I spent about 20 minutes closely examining all the details of every part of the shower, with absolutely no success. I called my mother, who thought this whole predicament was (understandably) hysterical. I finally caved and woke Ben up to ask him how the hell this thing works.




Seriously. How was I supposed to know you pull down on the tub faucet. It's an aesthetically pleasing design (kind of), if only because there is nothing distracting you from the beautiful and soothing white tile. BUT, there is no clue to indicate that you can pull down on this other than the bumped edge, which barely seems to exist until you realize/know that's a clue for your hand.

Maybe I'm just bitter. Maybe my pride was a little damaged by this experience. But still. This is a crappily designed shower (no offense to Ben - it was relatively clean and it worked fine once it was on), and left even yours truly pissed and confused.