Beauty, right? I found this a few months ago rifling through files at DuPont’s Hagley Museum, doing research for my Nylon article for Uppercase Magazine (which I previewed recently, here.) A wonderful example of something so basic, so dashed off, so ordinary – some corrections on a galley proof – that happen to merge, by chance, into something really artful.
Walking in our neighboorhood, daughter lingers over a box of books left out for free, picks this out and declares she’s taking it home. Good eye, squeaker, good eye.
Recent photography, courtesy of the scrappy town of Ballston Spa and the ramshackle vibrancy of River Street in the city of Troy, both in upstate New York. Back, then, to our summer schedule. See you soon.
Came across this poster in the most unlikely of surroundings, at a ramshackle shore antique shack, wedged in among worn beach furniture, weathered multicolored buoys, and nautical ephemera. Sheathed in its très mod silver frame, it stood out like a lost robot. The proprietor practically paid me to take it, as if its presence was harshing the salty laid back buzz of the place. Happy to make a home for it. The graphic itself is a wonderful distillation of an emblem or insignia… it reminds me of an old summer camp sign, merit badge, or military patch. Also, it’s as fine a specimen of the Futura typeface as you could want… The whole things emanates a great late 70’s design vibe, alternately earthy, crafty, matte and clean. (Not much to add about Benny Dore himself… basically a decent Danish artist and graphic designer of local repute.)
Bought this lovely Kodak guidebook at the estate sale of one L.R. Bollinger, of Niskayuna, NY, retired General Electric engineer, tinkerer, and avid amateur shutterbug – who also shot the Albany Rt. 9 Motel sign a few posts down.
Travelling, again. Schenectady, Troy, Washington. Back tomorrow.
(Motel, LR Bollinger)
Glad you asked. It’s a Calculagraph. They were the first patented mechanical time clocks. The large wooden handles marked Start and Finish would stamp a card with elapsed times. This one in particular served in a small aeronautics company in the 50’s, went on to tabulate table fees at a pool hall, and retired to the dusty basement of my new neighbor, who sold it to me off the sidewalk this weekend for five bucks. It is now my kitchen clock.
Bought and hung almost absentmindedly, over time this toy camera has become one of my most beloved objects. It exists in a perfect balance between mass production and craft, where the necessities of manufacture result not in cheap mimicry but inspired abstraction. Chief among its many charms is the yellow spring loaded toggle which strikes the brass flash cup and emits a jaunty sustained ping. Joy incarnate, this thing.