When I was first learning about injection molding, I’d go hang around a tooling shop and ask questions,” he says. “And they’d have some language to describe what they were doing, and they’d tell me how they were doing it. And I’d go into another shop, and there’d be a little twist on it. They’d have a different language and a different way of doing it. And I’d go into a third shop, and it was the same thing. They’re all ending up with the same result in the end, which is an injection mold. But they’re getting there in different ways. And by constantly asking the same questions over and over again, I learned a heck of a lot about injection molding, to the point where I know a lot more than most of these toolers do. ‘Cause I’ve been to 300 shops and seen 300 ways of doing it. And the more you know how to make things, the better designer you’re going to be.
A lot of this has to do with the rate of uninsured people of color in America, as well as access to prenatal care, education, preventative medicine, and even fucking fresh fruits and vegetables.
Having witnessed many a member’s more or less frustrated attempts to master the Golden Section, I am reminded of an often-cited anecdote from Russia: One evening, a man lost a ring in a dark corner of a park. Instead of looking for it there, the man spent hours carefully searching under a nearby street-lamp. When a passerby asked the man, why he kept looking in the wrong place, the man replied: “I am looking here, because here is plenty of light!”
People, who (consciously or unconsciously) are wont to stay away from the “dark, uncomfortable” area of rigorous creative thinking, won’t find an “answer” for the Golden Section, no matter how exhaustively they search for it. There does not, nor could there ever exist an explanation of the sort which would be acceptable to the aristotelean “norms” of contemporary classroom education. The Golden Section, as Leonardo and Kepler understood it, and as Lyn develops it further, is an
. It does not exist in the “objective” world of geometrical forms per se.
Naomi was always thinking about visuals. Where I saw a gas station, she saw something else altogether. She took photographs of ugly things, but her photographs made them beautiful.
The bushes and clouds in Super Mario Bros are the same, just colored differently.
What kept ‟the bus” interesting to me were its limitations. It revolved around a few situations — waiting for the bus, getting on the bus, paying for the fare, sitting with other passengers, and getting off the bus — and I only had to put a twist on them.