Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
There's a story called "Crooken Sands" by Bram Stoker that tells us about the importance or tartan design in Scotland, as it is related to different clans. Here, an excerpt:
"Arthur Fernlee Markam had not taken his family into his confidence regarding his new costume. He was not quite certain that he should be free from ridicule, or at least from sarcasm, and as he was sensitive on the subject, he thought it better to be actually in the suitable environment before he allowed the full splendour to burst upon them. He had taken some pains, to insure the completeness of the Highland costume. For the purpose he had paid many visits to 'The Scotch All-Wool Tartan Clothing Mart' which had been lately established in Copthall-court by the Messrs. MacCallum More and Roderick MacDhu. He had anxious consultations with the head of the firm—MacCallum as he called himself, resenting any such additions as 'Mr.' or 'Esquire.' The known stock of buckles, buttons, straps, brooches and ornaments of all kinds were examined in critical detail; and at last an eagle's feather of sufficiently magnificent proportions was discovered, and the equipment was complete. It was only when he saw the finished costume, with the vivid hues of the tartan seemingly modified into comparative sobriety by the multitude of silver fittings, the cairngorm brooches, the philibeg, dirk and sporran that he was fully and absolutely satisfied with his choice. At first he had thought of the Royal Stuart dress tartan, but abandoned it on the MacCallum pointing out that if he should happen to be in the neighbourhood of Balmoral it might lead to complications. The MacCallum, who, by the way, spoke with a remarkable cockney accent, suggested other plaids in turn; but now that the other question of accuracy had been raised, Mr. Markam foresaw difficulties if he should by chance find himself in the locality of the clan whose colours he had usurped. The MacCallum at last undertook to have, at Markam's expense, a special pattern woven which would not be exactly the same as any existing tartan, though partaking of the characteristics of many. It was based on the Royal Stuart, but contained suggestions as to simplicity of pattern from the Macalister and Ogilvie clans, and as to neutrality of colour from the clans of Buchanan, Macbeth, Chief of Macintosh and Macleod."
Read the full story from the book Dracula's Guest:
Sunday, November 27, 2011
This is one of the deterministic fractals' properties: autosimilarity. If I zoom in the fractal, I'll see the same pattern in all scales. I have changed the color but can still see my flowers and leaves.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Two artistic versions of the concept of an urban intervention and how it affects the urban tissue. The first one is showing tall buildings. They are based on fractals.
Artistic versions of an urban intervention by Myriam B. Mahiques is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Inspired by the multiple graffiti painted under Los Angeles´ freeways, specially the ones in front of the Cathedral of Santa María de los Ángeles, designed by Rafael Moneo. Graffiti appear and are cleaned, this time there are some small graphics over a kind of plastic canvas plus the grey stains left behind on the concrete walls.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Two versions of the same poster, I think the blue one is better, the wheels are more readable. And the graphic design stop here, I don't enjoy drawing letters....
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
This digital painting is like a poster. I´ve been influenced ultimately by my eldest daughter, she is a future graphic design. Mi idea is to intertwine the sky with the snow and the mountain. All part of the same landscape.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
"Kathy, I'm lost," I said, though I knew she was sleeping
I'm empty and aching and I don't know why
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
They've all gone to look for America
All gone to look for America
All gone to look for America¨
From the song America by Simon and Garfunkel
Saturday, November 12, 2011
"To look at," said the sergeant-major, fumbling in his pocket, "it's just an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy."
He took something out of his pocket and proffered it. Mrs. White drew back with a grimace, but her son, taking it, examined it curiously.
"And what is there special about it?" inquired Mr. White as he took it from his son, and having examined it, placed it upon the table.
"It had a spell put on it by an old fakir," said the sergeant-major, "a very holy man. He wanted to show that fate ruled people's lives, and that those who interfered with it did so to their sorrow. He put a spell on it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it."
From The Monkey´s Paw. By W. W. Jacobs
Friday, November 11, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Spread your wings and fly away
Fly away far away
Spread your little wings and fly away
Fly away far away
Pull yourself together
'Cos you know you should do better
That's because you're a free man
From ¨Spread your wings¨. Lyrics by Queen
Monday, November 7, 2011
After the elections in my country, I am thinking of this beautiful songs from the Beatles....
Have you seen the little piggies
Crawling in the dirt
And for all the little piggies
Life is getting worse
Always having dirt to play around in.
Have you seen the bigger piggies
In their starched white shirts
You will find the bigger piggies
Stirring up the dirt
Always have clean shirts to play around in.
In their styes with all their backing
They don't care what goes on around
In their eyes there's something lacking
What they need's a damn good whacking.
Everywhere there's lots of piggies
Living piggy lives
You can see them out for dinner
With their piggy wives
Clutching forks and knives to eat their bacon.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Saturday, November 5, 2011
The once-strong Viking looked up from the cattle bones scattered on the floor, to his wife and children´s eyes. He sadly reflected that it had not been a good idea to go after Erik the Red, and even worse trying to found in this arid landscape, an European prestige based on livestock. They would not survive that raw winter, but perhaps he could find a temporary solution until the gods had mercy on them. He tenderly caressed his dogs, and without any doubt, he brandished the big hunt knife, over and over again.
On the other side of the primitive island, the Inuits dragged the whale dodging the icy fiords. That night there would be party in the tribe.
I´m the author of this short story, and it was selected -together with the digital painting- to be published at Orizon Literat, P. 59, Year III, No 6 (20), Nov-Dec 2010. ISSN 1844-4229. The story has been published in Spanish, English and Romanian.