When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light...

This is Berlin - again! This time the photos shown here come from an entirely different source: they were taken at the Buchstaben Museum (http://www.buchstabenmuseum.de/), which is a tiny yet meaningful (and playful) display of... Neon lights - precisely. Except that the point is not their being glowing. The aim of the museum is to preserve and document letterforms, as written on their homepage, as well as to plan "events designed to develop an appreciation for typography and for the items on display".
What I found very interesting is the opportunity to see various "fonts" applied to specific, real-life examples (a fishmonger's shop, a café and so on), with styles and "tricks" that change in time: the three photos below, for instance, the light with the glowing "W" comes from the thirties or the forties, if I am not mistaken. I love the "r" and "t" in the first photo, the way they are linked - it is a very peculiar graphic solution; and I found the "G" in the third picture very smooth and... Gentle.

The remaining two photos were taken with a more "scientific" approach in mind: here one learns how it is actually possible to fabricate such neon lights... Or at least, how this was done up to the invention and success of LEDs, I suppose. It is then almost natural, I think, to realise that this museum and its collection are not only about aesthetics; there is a true interplay of art and science/technology. The perspective might thus change, as a particularly smooth and curly typeface is not only nice to look at, but also likely to have been quite a challenge to produce as the neon light that is displayed right in front of you. :)

I imagine that it did make sense to gradually switch to LEDs - perhaps we (as a civilisation) should even rethink critically this sort of "glittery and 'must be eye-catching' culture of signs and messages".
I believe it is important that places like the Buchstaben Museum exist, because they do act as a "memorandum" of a few examples of virtuous human creativity and ingeniosity, all of which are aspects to respect and treasure.

A note -- While I was visiting the museum I happened to glance at a pile of small leaflets, each one with a big green "M" on it - I took one with me, and discovered this website: http://www.motaitalic.com/. It is not a very easy task to define what "Mota Italic" truly is - it is a gallery/shop in Berlin, but I think it is fair to say that it is mainly a proper type foundry. This means that if you visit their website and fancy one of their typefaces, you can purchase them and start using them when you write a document on your laptop, for example. I then had a relatively extensive look at the website itself: one page that caught my attention was http://www.motaitalic.com/typefoundry/fonts/gemma/rotalics - do not get me wrong, I love standard italics, but this "rotalics" does look interesting, too!

A second note, as important as the first -- If you don't know (or forgot) where the title of this post comes from, I suggest you check this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvsX03LOMhI. ;) [I am not entirely sure about all the words as they are shown in this video, but most of them seem right to me!]

On remembrance... And communication

In May I went to Berlin for a few days: I had a very pleasant time, and I thought I would now upload some photos that I took while exploring this lively city. Digital cameras are wonderful, but they do make it easy, far too easy to generate photos that rapidly add up to embarrassingly high numbers. For this reason, identifying a theme and selecting the few snapshots related to it seemed a quite reasonable strategy here. :)
The two pictures above show two memorials: the first one is found in the very central Bebelplatz and commemorates the - sadly famous - book burning ceremony that took place in 1933, while the second marks the spot where the body of Rosa Luxemburg was thrown into the Landwehr canal in 1919.
I have always thought that the choice of empty bookcases to remember a book burning episode is very meaningful. Absence is often regarded as a "lack of presence" and thus seen as a negative condition - yet an absence may be as significant as a presence, in a way which turns out to be much more intuitive than one may expect at first. A quote from Heinrich Heine is engraved next to the glass plate: "Where they burn books, they ultimately burn people".
Since I included a quote, why not add another one? This time it is by Rosa Luxemburg: "Freedom is always the freedom of the dissenter [the one who thinks differently]". The paragraph from which this sentence was taken can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosa_Luxemburg.

This collection of concrete slabs of variable height is known as the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. It was, and probably still is, a rather controversial project. I must say, I hesitated before I decided to visit it (also, I didn't go to the museum built - literally - under the memorial): even when I was there, surrounded by these grey blocks, my attention was mainly driven towards the construction itself - namely its spatial, geometrical features: light and shadow, uniformity, contrasts, loss of direction.

A memorial, whatever its form and nature may be, cannot provide a single, well-defined and universally (so to speak) accepted meaning: every individual will react differently to it and will be left with a handful of thoughts and impressions. As much as this may sound as an attempt to undermine the value of such monuments and sculptures, I believe it is not so.
Also, I think that an important aspect is their accessibility: anyone walking around Bebelplatz has a chance to see those white, empty shelves. I guess that a similar attempt to "bring a message to passers-by" has inspired science fairs and festivals organised in public squares, for instance: such initiatives are based on the line "If you don't come look for me, I will make myself almost impossible not to be noticed". The question is then: once you are indeed visible, will you be able to speak clearly, and will both parties understand each other? A sparkle that bursts communication is not overly complicated to generate. The point is: what follows the spark, and how?

FolkRec - Benjamin Bowmaneer

I utterly love this song - I learned it earlier this year and it quickly became one of my favourites. I probably enjoy singing it because of its structure: it is a proper story, although its meaning I find quite mysterious. I recently heard that it is supposed to be a sea shantie - this is what Mary Hampton said, at least. Interesting, I suppose - I recommend listening to her very peculiar version of this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZ1NTYegs8k.
What else? Oh, yes. This version of mine is a "take two": I originally sang it in a rather slow and mellow way, but then I thought: why not dare and change the tempo a bit? So off we go - armed with scissors and needles.
Last but not least, thank you to my mum for taking a photo of this wonderful tree during our exploration of Richmond Park.

Not all those who wander are lost

This sentence has been lingering in my mind for a while. It comes from the "Lord of The Rings" by J. R. R. Tolkien, if I am not mistaken - I haven't read the books yet, but I do know this one bit. I suppose it caught my attention when I read it recently - on an advert, sadly - because it does describe very well how events in life sometimes seem to link to one another and form an oddly shaped, complex and fragile chain where luck, initiative and curiosity all find their places and times to come into play.
For instance, one may go to a café (without having planned to) and discover that Mary Hampton is in town for a concert - then one walks to Cowley and discovers the "Old Boot Factory"... Which is indeed a factory, or well, was one and is now turned into a sort of post-industrial music hall.
Despite the cold and windy weather I thoroughly enjoyed the concert, and I was so fond of the music I heard that I eventually bought "Folly", the album that Mary Hampton and her Cotillion released last year.
A song, "No. 32", is based on a poem by Emily Dickinson that I found extremely beautiful:

I died for beauty but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed,
"For beauty" I replied.
"And I for truth, the two are one;
We brethren are." He said.

And so kinsmen met a night
We talked between the rooms
Until the moss had reached our lips
And covered up our names.