"French artist Sandrine Estrade turns everyday street items and makes them into something to make you smile."
Water display created by Koei Industry, located at Osaka Station City shopping mall in Japan. It uses water to display the time, temperature and even artwork.
Agency: Y&R - Dubai, UAE
Agency: Oniria\TBWA - Asunción, Paraguay
Agency: Publicis - Munich, Germany
Agency: Ogilvy - Sao Paulo, Brazil
Advertising School: Berghs School of Communication - Stockholm, Sweden
Guest Post: John Kochmanski // @JohnKochmanski
Simple is hard, over-thinking is easy.Simple is useable, complex is not. Simple is elegant, elaborate is gaudy. Simple is refined, complicated is naive. Items that appear to be simple in design and function, in most cases have been labored over more than an item that has all the bells and whistles. They're not trying to be all things to everybody, they need to do one thing well for for as many people as possible. This is no easy task. Simple inspires me to explore the many options and subtract that which is not needed. It forces me keep the user in mind and make their life as simple as possible. Simple is hard, useable, elegant, refined, and makes our lives easier by minimizing frustration.
Guest Post: Pete Shelly // @peteshelly
"But what's the story?"
I hated that question. We were ten weeks deep in a documentary film class at Syracuse and the professor had repeated it ad nauseum for every class of the semester.
Each week, we came in with a new reel, a few more scenes that eventually led to our final semester project, a short documentary. After each team finished showing their clip, carefully put together during all-nighters tucked away in the school's crowded edit bays, he would ponder carefully and then give his response: "Maybe I'm just not seeing it. But what's the story?" It was obnoxious and frustrating.
The next time we met, we'd bring a new interview that we swore focused on story and story only.
"But what's the story?" he'd ask.
That. That was our story, we moaned.
That was somebody talking, that wasn't story, he'd say.
It was the hardest class to get out of bed for — and I took an environmental science class once. Eventually, though, as we began to finally bring out the stories in our projects, it started making sense. He was holding our feet to the fire because that was the only way to get us to understand what real story was. Eventually, we bought in. We saw what he meant about capital S Story (the craft) as opposed to little S story (the anecdote). We knew we wanted to create the former and we saw that to do so, we'd have to become passionate about it. We had to devote ourselves to quality and craft.
That's not to say that passion is a flipped switch. It's learned, it's nurtured. Most of all, it's recognized. It's knowing what's crap and what's good, and not wanting to settle for anything less.
We'd tweak and re-edit and still he'd ask the question.
"But what's the story?"
We pushed ourselves to create something that would finally shut him up. But he never relented, always pushing us further.
"But what's the story?"
We didn't realize it until later, but he wasn't teaching us how to make a documentary film, he was teaching us craft. He was teaching us that no matter how much time or energy or coffee or whatever we put into storytelling, we would keep producing crap if we didn't have passion for what we were doing. We started asking ourselves, "But what's the story?" It was relentless, obsessive. Obnoxious, even.
But it was the difference between doing and dabbling. Between asking yourself the hard questions and waiting for someone to ask them for you. It's the difference between good and "good enough."
At the end of the semester, we had a screening to show the short films we labored over. Every single group had found their story. And over beers later, we gushed.
A few weeks ago, a friend sent me an article he was writing. "Is it any good?" he asked. I read through it, pondered carefully, and shot him an email back: "Maybe I'm just not seeing it. But what's the story?"
Guest Post: Anibal Casso // @anibalcasso
My good friend Charles le Brigand took this picture a while ago.It’s quite a powerful piece.It used to be up on a wall right next to my desk back in NYC.Looking at it always reminds me how essential is to get out and just observe.Live and breathe the data.Ignore what’s on paper or screen.Feel the insights.You know, all that stuff.It also reminds me that no matter how obsessed I get about the web, I should never
lose sight of the fulfilling value of experiencing the physical world out there.The girl with the dark red coat trying to pull a cab;
The delivery guy navigating through traffic on his bike;
The couple arguing in front of that neighborhood bar;
The old guy who sits at the same coffee shop every Saturday morning;
The random ways in which people react when suddenly starts to rain.The seemingly trivial stuff.That’s what inspires me.
Guest Post: Snorre Martinsen // @snorrem
Nothing is more inspiring than a simple, obvious idea well executed. And one brand that's been a true source of simplistic brilliance for the past couple of decades is certainly Ikea.
Two of the projects that have caught my eye lately are a little untypical for Ikea. But the way they've captured the spirit of the brand, and indeed simplistic living in general, is just spot on.
I don't think it's possible to strip digital camera functionality any more down than this, and it's just perfect. It doesn't zoom or flash or stabilize you images. It won't break if you drop it, and it sure as hell won't post your images to Facebook or Instagram. All it'll do is snap your frame and you can transfer it to your laptop. And most of all it's terribly weird how retro this whole thing feels.
To launch the iPad version of the IKEA-catalogue in Norway, they created a brand new Ikea product called "BERÖRA". A sewing kit with conductive thread to sew into say the index finger of your favourite pair of mittens or gloves. This little operation makes them work on a touch-screen, so you won't have to freeze your bloody fingers off in the harsh scandinavian winter.
And judging on the success both of these products have had, I'm sure we'll see many more projects like these in the time to come.