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I found this on my old desktop while cleaning.
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Ffabschrift. A verb, a noun. A two syllable sound, created from air ffffffriction on the mouth, tongue, teeth.
FFABschrift. FfabSCHRIFT.
The ligature of ffabschrift—the twin FF's—reminds me of the double forte I learned to play on piano. Follow through with full force!
Through double-f ffabschrifting, I've been observing how language fills spaces. The shouting space afforded by the double ff fortissimo, or the diminuitive door crack of double pp. Pianissimo, or proceed pensively in peace.
Rectangular page spaces, the perimeter of signs, screens, books. Skin, even.
So we've been understanding what it means to verb these nouns, er—ffabschrift these ffabschrifts. Adverbly verbing, an adjective noun.
Is this what we're doing—schriftily ffabbing, fabulously schrifting?
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Ffabschrifter. A noun, an occupation: one who ffabschrifts.
I am a ffabschrifter of to–do lists, notebook margins, text-messages, e–mails. My pen is pretty mighty; so is my plastic QWERTY keyboard and my Microsoft Word, and my ffabschrifty finger on a fogged-over window.
The language I'm thinking is written, in order to be emailed, then travels to print, speech, and returns to you. Hello, listeners!
Language contorts, evaporates, condensates, yet carries constantly the autograph of the thing that made it. I tried to peel off the layer of the the text which is attached to its form, and found that even Helvetica Regular in a Text Edit document is binds to the attributes of what I'm saying.
I can take a quantum microscope to a word and speculate that is either a particle or a wave. My future-fast e–mails are made of light, right? The 21st century illuminated manuscript is handcrafted with thumbs on touch-screen glass.
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Ffabschrifting, writing as making and making as writing.
Right, so what is writing made of?
Is poetry made of concrete? Or a softer something—like sand or newspaper clippings.
I am interested in the material life of language. What is the halflife of a word isotope left to decay unspoken? The shelflife of an offense?
What kind of residue does heavy language leave? Sticky language? The measurable density of a proverb nestled in your ear, versus the way small talk floats, a dusty and negligible waste of space.
Writing as making, and making as writing.
Or mighting as waking and whiting as raking?
Fighting as faking and writing as shaking.
Everything is a work in progress.
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graphic design for people who do not see, communication spaces for people who do not speak and technology for people who have no power.
sean donahue
I love this! what does this look like?
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“The Manstruation Chair is to make a man feel that he left a blood stain on a clean fabric chair by building some mechanical parts. The project encourages the man to link his own experience to the embarrassment and anxiety woman has during the period, which is because of social pressure more than physical difference. It also encourages man to think more deeply about gender difference.”
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Neri Oxman creates computational flesh, molds, forms. Gorgeous & spooky cellular automata. And this—this is another form of writing. One which grows; so could you say you’re writing your way towards life? towards homegrown aliens?
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The human voice is made from purely air and protein!
And here, this is just a mechanical process, wood and metal.
And then, in 2017, when we hear Siri it’s like a no brainer
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"What does this language privilege, and erase?" An anthropologist talks computer brains.
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I’ve gone into hibernation. Haven’t posted all winter!
Might trickle through some photos of new places from the past couple months. Sunny Mexico City and monsooned San Francisco.
Lately, things have been calming down from school prep mode. Since fall, I’ve been up to ears in work; I’ve been scratching towards authenticity.
Since fall, I’ve been thinking and quietly accumulating interesting ideas. I’ve been thinking about vulnerability, empathy in my friends and family. Also the longevity of a piece of work. Also closed and open systems, breakable and resettable tools. Also about making from scratch. Also about design extending from and into the natural world, forms extending from natural programs.
Before that was thinking about forgetting, and the “composting of information” as a layered, emotional force. Was thinking about happiness and reality and stories we tell ourselves. Oh, and thinking about holes.
Other than thinking, I’ve been dreaming of an Eat Pray Love kind of summer. And marching about. Holding through the suspense.
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something I saw in Pachuca, Mexico. the resourcefulness of communities!
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Seymour talked in riddles or he'd ask questions. He would ask a question like this to kids. "How do giraffes sleep?" think about it for a second. They have such heavy bodies. Does it get up, does it lie down? Some child said well the giraffe finds a tree with a fork in it that's the right height and it puts its head in it and the branches are the pillow. And the answers is what Seymour would enjoy. And adults wouldn't know the answer. If you look into a mirror and it makes left right, why doesn't it make up down? Those were the sorts of questions. And this was his favorite. That if you have a car moving at 50 miles an hour and it's on wheels what is the velocity of that point that's hitting the road? And obviously the answer is zero. But nobody -- how could it be zero? It's going 50 miles an hour?
IRA FLATOW
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Fake sunset over Miami reminds me of the mountain they painted green somewhere in China.
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Oh baby
Newsletter banners for Open View, an abbreviated arts guide for Milwaukee, WI, I’m developing with Ashley Janke and Paul Oemig. Subscribe!
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