“I think that street art is illegal and it has to stay illegal.” --Invader
I was in an Uber on the Don Valley Parkway today and, for some reason, all of the graffiti on its sound barriers caught my attention in a way that it hasn't before. Maybe it's because I don't travel enough by car or maybe the highway people haven't yet done their spring cleaning. Either way, I caught myself thinking, "Hey, a lot of this looks pretty cool. Here are boring and utilitarian sound barriers that have been covered with colorful things."
Of course, street art is a tricky thing. Because, at the end of the day, it is, as French artist Invader says, illegal. It is an act of vandalism. And so there is a fine line between street art and criminal behaviour. When I leave my home in the morning and I discover that someone has spray painted nonsense on one of its exterior walls, it absolutely pisses me off. How about I come spray paint your home?
But what if it wasn't nonsense? What if Invader had decided to "invade" Toronto and I instead found a pixelated neon green Pac-Man outside of my lobby? It would still be illegal and it would still be vandalism, but I would frankly feel excited that Invader had decided to come and bestow my home with one of his art pieces. I would then proceed to take a picture and send it to all of my family and friends.
“I think that street art is illegal and it has to stay illegal.” --Invader
I was in an Uber on the Don Valley Parkway today and, for some reason, all of the graffiti on its sound barriers caught my attention in a way that it hasn't before. Maybe it's because I don't travel enough by car or maybe the highway people haven't yet done their spring cleaning. Either way, I caught myself thinking, "Hey, a lot of this looks pretty cool. Here are boring and utilitarian sound barriers that have been covered with colorful things."
Of course, street art is a tricky thing. Because, at the end of the day, it is, as French artist Invader says, illegal. It is an act of vandalism. And so there is a fine line between street art and criminal behaviour. When I leave my home in the morning and I discover that someone has spray painted nonsense on one of its exterior walls, it absolutely pisses me off. How about I come spray paint your home?
But what if it wasn't nonsense? What if Invader had decided to "invade" Toronto and I instead found a pixelated neon green Pac-Man outside of my lobby? It would still be illegal and it would still be vandalism, but I would frankly feel excited that Invader had decided to come and bestow my home with one of his art pieces. I would then proceed to take a picture and send it to all of my family and friends.
Now, obviously it makes a difference when it's a known artist. Context matters. But Invader had to start his illegal pursuits somewhere. And I find it interesting to think about the line where something is able to pass, in our minds, from being an illegal nuisance to a desirable art piece. I experienced moments of that along the Don Valley Parkway today.
The late fashion designer, Virgil Abloh, had a design rule for himself called the "3% approach." Above is a slide from a presentation that he gave at Harvard back in 2013 where he listed it as item 3 of his "personal design language." The idea behind this 3% rule is simple: you really only need to change something by 3% in order to create something new.
Now, obviously it makes a difference when it's a known artist. Context matters. But Invader had to start his illegal pursuits somewhere. And I find it interesting to think about the line where something is able to pass, in our minds, from being an illegal nuisance to a desirable art piece. I experienced moments of that along the Don Valley Parkway today.
The late fashion designer, Virgil Abloh, had a design rule for himself called the "3% approach." Above is a slide from a presentation that he gave at Harvard back in 2013 where he listed it as item 3 of his "personal design language." The idea behind this 3% rule is simple: you really only need to change something by 3% in order to create something new.
Given this, it should come as no surprise that Abloh had cited artist Marcel Duchamp as being a source of inspiration. (We've spoken about this before.) Duchamp is most famous for his "readymade" sculptures where he took existing objects -- like urinals -- and transformed them into art by signing them and curating them appropriately. This was obviously controversial, but it made Duchamp one of the most important artists of the 20th century.
Now, 3% seems like an oddly precise number. I don't know how, for instance, you quantify the amount of change on the above shoe. Is it surface area? In any event, that's beside the point. What's most fascinating for me about this approach is that it suggests that small changes are enough to, not just create novelty, but actually establish authorship. Meaning, the shoe on the right is no longer a Converse shoe. It is now an "OFF-WHITE" shoe. They authored it.
Like the work of Duchamp, this was and is controversial. Lots of companies have sued Off-White for trademark infringement. We know, for example, where the above black stripes came from and we know that Off-White's multi-directional arrow logo is borrowed from Glasgow Airport's logo c.1960. But that's clearly the point of readymade reworks. And it's clearly enough for people to want to pay a lot more for the shoe on the right.
Fascinating.
Do you think that this 3% approach applies (or could apply) to other things outside of fashion, like architecture and buildings? I think so.
In a few days, a new exhibit, called theAluminaire House™ Exhibit, will open in a parking lot of the Palm Springs Art Museum. It will form a new part of their permanent collection. Now, museum goers won't be able to go inside of the house due to accessibility limitations, but they'll be able to look at it from the outside. And this alone is a big deal because this house is a big deal.
Initially constructed in 1931, the house was designed by A. Lawrence Kocher (then the managing editor of Architectural Record) and Albert Frey. Albert was a Swiss-born architect who had just immigrated to New York from Europe, after having worked for the famous Le Corbusier in Paris. And so he was a practitioner of the International Style and this house was a clear representation of that.
Erected in only 10 days, Aluminaire House is thought to be the first all-metal house ever constructed in the United States. Well, metal and glass. And at the time, the overarching objective was to build something cheap, modular, and durable. Something that many are still trying to accomplish to this day.
Not surprisingly, the house was polarizing. Supposedly, architect Philip Johnson picketed in front of it. But this house would go on to become an icon, and it was eventually featured in MoMA's 1932 exhibition, "The International Style -- Architecture Since 1922" -- an exhibition that has been largely credited with introducing European-style modernism to the US.
Albert also ended up moving to Palm Springs later in life, and became known for pioneering something known as "desert modernism." So it's only fitting that this house ultimately end up here. Even if all-metal maybe isn't the best choice of material for a hot desert. If you find yourself in Palm Springs, you should definitely go check it out, or picket in front of it.
Given this, it should come as no surprise that Abloh had cited artist Marcel Duchamp as being a source of inspiration. (We've spoken about this before.) Duchamp is most famous for his "readymade" sculptures where he took existing objects -- like urinals -- and transformed them into art by signing them and curating them appropriately. This was obviously controversial, but it made Duchamp one of the most important artists of the 20th century.
Now, 3% seems like an oddly precise number. I don't know how, for instance, you quantify the amount of change on the above shoe. Is it surface area? In any event, that's beside the point. What's most fascinating for me about this approach is that it suggests that small changes are enough to, not just create novelty, but actually establish authorship. Meaning, the shoe on the right is no longer a Converse shoe. It is now an "OFF-WHITE" shoe. They authored it.
Like the work of Duchamp, this was and is controversial. Lots of companies have sued Off-White for trademark infringement. We know, for example, where the above black stripes came from and we know that Off-White's multi-directional arrow logo is borrowed from Glasgow Airport's logo c.1960. But that's clearly the point of readymade reworks. And it's clearly enough for people to want to pay a lot more for the shoe on the right.
Fascinating.
Do you think that this 3% approach applies (or could apply) to other things outside of fashion, like architecture and buildings? I think so.
In a few days, a new exhibit, called theAluminaire House™ Exhibit, will open in a parking lot of the Palm Springs Art Museum. It will form a new part of their permanent collection. Now, museum goers won't be able to go inside of the house due to accessibility limitations, but they'll be able to look at it from the outside. And this alone is a big deal because this house is a big deal.
Initially constructed in 1931, the house was designed by A. Lawrence Kocher (then the managing editor of Architectural Record) and Albert Frey. Albert was a Swiss-born architect who had just immigrated to New York from Europe, after having worked for the famous Le Corbusier in Paris. And so he was a practitioner of the International Style and this house was a clear representation of that.
Erected in only 10 days, Aluminaire House is thought to be the first all-metal house ever constructed in the United States. Well, metal and glass. And at the time, the overarching objective was to build something cheap, modular, and durable. Something that many are still trying to accomplish to this day.
Not surprisingly, the house was polarizing. Supposedly, architect Philip Johnson picketed in front of it. But this house would go on to become an icon, and it was eventually featured in MoMA's 1932 exhibition, "The International Style -- Architecture Since 1922" -- an exhibition that has been largely credited with introducing European-style modernism to the US.
Albert also ended up moving to Palm Springs later in life, and became known for pioneering something known as "desert modernism." So it's only fitting that this house ultimately end up here. Even if all-metal maybe isn't the best choice of material for a hot desert. If you find yourself in Palm Springs, you should definitely go check it out, or picket in front of it.
