couch in an envelope

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From Space 10, a reimagining of the couch via AI:

The couch is synonymous with comfort. The centre of our living rooms, it is where we unwind, chat with friends, read, nap, and relax. Yet, the established design archetype of the couch — heavy, bulky, difficult to transport — feels increasingly outdated in an age of flexible living and ever-changing lifestyles.

We collaborated with Panter&Tourronto reimagine the couch as something that is light, adaptable, and comfortable — challenging generative AI to liberate the couch from its historical form.

The result is Couch in an Envelope, an AI-assisted exploration rethinking the design of the couch. A speculative concept that is flat-packed, modular, and would only weigh 10 kilograms.

Truly cool and nifty and fascinating – but can it withstand dogchildren?

Sakae

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In awe of these wire and resin hairpins by Tokyo-based artist Sakae:

In their earliest and simplest form, kanzashi were made of a simple stick or rod meant to protect the wearer from evil spirits. Over time, they evolved to include combs and a wide range of materials, becoming widely popular during the Edo period when hairstyles became more elaborate.

Sakae’s contemporary iterations connect to her rich cultural heritage, adorning customary hairstyles during special occasions like ceremonies or weddings. She creates the luminous surfaces of insect wings, flower petals, and dew drops by using dip resin, a type of liquid material that can be applied between strands of wire and solidified with heat.

View more of Sakae’s stunning work at Colossal and at her site.

"Monster, This is Your Life"

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Finally returning to Lynda Barry's MAKING COMICS exercises (beyond my daily bastardizations of of her Attendance Cards exercise – perhaps a useful way for me to expand my brain in a decidedly expanding-challenged time. Barry's rules for this one:

"Paper, divided into six frames... each frame will take three minutes… you will be jumping around the page, drawing in this order: Frame 1, 6, 3, 4, 2, 5...

  • 1. Draw the monster as a newborn in a certain setting.

  • 5. As a kid engaged in some kind of activity

  • 3. As a disgruntled teen doing something you did as a teen

  • 4. As a young adult enjoying themselves

  • 6. middle-aged, at work

  • 2. At its funeral. It lived to be old. We can see its body in this picture."

My results:

Six panels: a snake monster as a baby on a microscope slide; as a kid playing with blocks; as a teen smoking and proferring the middle finger; as a 20-something roaming a city, smoking; as an office worker; as a body in a burning coffin.

Remind me never to use the snake-monster again: he was a pain to reproduce. Earlier (much earlier, it seems) efforts live here.

note to self

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Trying to keep this bit – for my money, the finest bit of wisdom in a book full of it – at the forefront as I navigate my own resoundingly unproductive (and maddening) creative period:

"The word block suggests that you are constipated or stuck, when the truth is that you're empty... The problem is acceptance, which is something we're taught not to do. We're taught to improve uncomfortable situations, to change things, alleviate unpleasant feelings. But if you accept the reality that you have been given – that you are not in a productive creative period – you free yourself to begin filling up again."