February 28, 2006
French Fry Art
Wow... an enormous stack of McDonald's French Fries (held together only with Heinz Ketchup)! Artist Jack Daws doesn't usually sculpt with food... I'm so absolutely positive he should get in the Gunness Book for this one! (I'm mostly just floored that McDonald's fries held up under such a strain.)
More of Daws often politically charged work:
a. Confederate Flag – Colors of Ethiopian Flag
b. White Flag
c. Union Jack – Colors of the Irish Flag
• More Jack Daws (some images may be unsuitable for children)
February 27, 2006
I've been hard at work on my scale model of early Disneyland and I'm now finally ready to reveal it. You will most definetely be impressed!... until you learn that my scale model is only a quick photoshop cheat. But it sure is fun!
(click photos to enlarge)
The Life and Death of a Pool
This open air swimming pool on The Isle of Man first shut its doors in 1981. Soon after, it was transformed into a fish farm which was finally abandoned in 1990.
(click on photos to enlarge)
Photographs by Papalamour. Copyright© 2006. Right are reserved.
Storytime with Mr. Octopus
An octopus is caught in a number of sometimes harrowing, sometimes delightful circumstances. One minute we laugh, the next we cry. You must visit this work of photographic genius, taken by flickr prodigy Snowshyn.
Note: I have conveniently provided the text (below) that transforms these photographs into a delightful children's multimedia extravaganza. Whenever you hear the "beep", click on the next photograph.
To Begin Slideshow, Open a New Window with this Address:
Begin reading: Oh my god, I'm so damn nervous... I hate girls. Girls are gross. I'm glad I never...
Beep: Ahh! Girls! Girls!!! Where did these stinking putrid girls come from?!
Beep: Oh goodness. I escaped that one just in time. Sheesh... the only thing worse than girls is...
Beep: ... cats!!! Oh no! A cat! Help! Wake up, wake up, wake up... MOMMY! MOMMY!
Beep: MOM-MY!!! Oh... Hey guys! I hope you didn't hear that... I just had the most horrible nightmare. Got anything to drink?
Beep: Canned coffee? You give me canned coffee? What kind of stupid friends are you? Leave! Leave now!!!
Beep: Well good. That Desperate Housewives show is on anyway. Relaxation at last. But... I'm lonely...
Beep: I must see her... my one true friend. Because she loves me when no on else does. Because she serves me hot beverages. And because she's always glad to see me...
Beep: ... my owner!!!
Beep: The End
Chinese copy artists, posing with their copied work.
February 26, 2006
One loyal Citizen recently expressed doubts about the powers and origins of the phrase "Woah-Hey". Not only did he find it merely "interesting", he also sarcastically sugggested it might have been spawned by something as stupid as "frisbee golf".
Shame on you Citizen! Shame, shame, shame! You should know that Woah-Hey (one of the three most powerful magical phrases of the Republic of Tinselman) has its roots in old-school skateboarding culture. I'm talking Venice. I'm talking Dogtown. We excellent skaters might have used it like, "Woah-Hey... don't be so bummed out," or "Woah-Hey... totally radical dude, totally!"
Because President (for Life) Robyn Miller once worshipped the Dogtown insignia as a religious icon, drawing it on all his junior high school notebooks, because he did this with perfect zeal and dedication, because of this he was finally able, through years of continual study, to master the exact inflection, intonation and cadence of the mantra-like "Woah-Hey" until its paranormal properties (and there are many) began to surface.
And, as if you don't already know, this is why he is President (for Life) and you are not.
Of course, besides all that, Woah–Hey! is the offical greeting of the Republic of Tinselman (as I've mentioned in past posts).
Very little in this post can be corroborated. You must simply decide to blindly trust me, your President (for Life) Robyn Miller. And by the way, I have not forgotten our war with NSK of which we now know Wikipedia is an agent. I'll explain more later.
February 24, 2006
Sea of Lanterns
I just wandered across this shared photoset of the most fantastical lanterns from this year's annual Lantern Festival in Tainan City, Taiwan. Until today I had never heard of the festival, which involves lantern contests, lantern floats, prisoner-made lanterns, religious lanterns, wishing lanterns, and a great "sea of lanterns." Take a look!
(click on photos to enlarge)
February 23, 2006
WAR WAR WAR!!!
As peace-loving President (for life) of the Republic of Tinselman, I have some news that may come as a surprise: War has been declared (by me) against the state of NSK! It seems they've moved in on our "non-territory" and are rapidly gaining ground. We cannot allow this! We will not allow this!
The NSK dares to taunt us by calling themselves, "A state in time, a state without territory and national borders, a sort of 'spiritual, virtual state.'" Worse yet, they claim to be, "the first global state in the universe." Preposterous!!!
Obviously, there cannot be two of us. One of us will have to go and it's not going to be us. We're the good guys. We use mysterious phrases like "Woah-hey" and "Wow-magical." We embrace Godzilla and the Loch Ness Monster. We practice top-secret "boo" tactics and adore tinsel (because of its obvious magical properties). The NSK does none of these things. And they are dangerous and diabolical to their very core. Allow me to illustrate:
First, unlike the Republic of Tinselman, the NSK has no president, no monarch, no leader of any clear kind. Instead it functions under a "shared" borg-like "collective." This is obvious nonsense.
Hmm still, I've got to admit, I've always liked passports. I think it's the stamps. They can be very cool. Hmm. I'm torn.
Okay, thirdly, the NSK are just so elitist. They've got luxurious resort-like embassies all around the world and only V.I.P. citizens of the NSK get to party hardy at them. This is a stark contrast to the the Republic of Tinselman, where any and all citizens have an open invitation to The Eternal Holiday Palace of Tinsadelic Summertime. And being citizen is as simple as reading this blog. Snap... you're in.
Moving on. Fourthly, and I'm afraid they've got us beat hands down on this one: posters. Recruitment posters. And this one with the fembot is just beyond greatness (shame on us):
Oh... and they've also got this logo that's just tinseliciously manical (and that's good):
All the good things the NSK happens to do are just more reasons to go to war with them. Plus, declaring war gave me this amazing rush of power! Wonderful War! Yeah, baby! And the first thing we're gonna need is a great logo! Definetely. And we've still got our flag, our Flying Funkturos, our Lucy Mark V Parliament Building, our Presidential Wienermobile and our Dymaxion Houses. And all we've got to do is show those NSK-ers that we're better than they are. Ha! We'll get there! Victory is ours! Victory! Victory!
Thank you for your kind attention.
Your President for Life,
a. Plaques of NSK Embassies
b. Fembot Wants You!
c. NSK logo
February 22, 2006
Very few of the Tinselman posts are Myst related. This one is. It's one of our earliest design maps of the five islands of Riven. If you're familiar with Riven, you'll be able to tell right away that this first attempt was only a rough stab – by the time we'd finished, our design had dramatically changed.
I'll try to post more of the maps in the future.
(Using firefox? Don't forget to magnify the larger images.)
More Myst Links:
Reader Comment: Scott Elyard says, "I think I recognize the unused CG garden set that was shown in the Myst to Riven book." You can see a rendering of the Garden Island "east path" on Richard Watson's website.
Images licensed under a creative commons license. Some rights reserved.
How to Survive an Apocalypse
If art expresses a person's innermost soul, then this man must have felt tangled up inside himself.
Frank Van Zant's vision was sparked when he heard the prophecy of a medicine woman: "In the final days there shall rise up a place called Thunder Mountain." She also told him that only those who lived at Thunder Mountain would survive the coming apocalypse. Van Zant wasted no time; he changed his name to Chief Rolling Thunder Mountain, moved his family to the desert in Imlay, Nevada, and began to build his monument.
Curiously, it does not look much like a mountain. Nor thunder. It looks more like a web of veins (or maybe nerves) that almost seem to be strangling the little house within.
At age 69 Van Zant committed suicide because he had finally completed his masterpiece.
Note: The monument has been in disrepair for a long time now. In recent photographs, most of Van Zant's original paint has worn away.
Reader Comment: Karradine says,
I knew Thunder in 1970, and stayed with him for several weeks. He was a friend to Baha'is, and an intelligent - if eccentric! - man.
Sleeping in his house was a real experience, utterly normal until the wind began to blow, for he had made his house from bottles collected from the roadside, and made the mistake of building part of one wall B0TTLE-MOUTH OUT!
The first time I awoke at 0230, with banshees wailing so loudly sleep was near impossible, I was loath to disturb him, and only mentioned it the next day, whereupon he explained it and told me it keeps evil spirits away (with a sly look on his face).
Quite a guy, Rolling Mountain Thunder!
Update: Welcome visitors from the boingboing link!
(click photos to enlarge)