In other news, I have a book coming out this fall entitled "3D Modelling", which is part of a series called "Makers As Innovators", a series published by Cherry Lake Publishing and edited by UMSI assistant professor Kristin Fontichiaro. Booklist, a book-review magazine of the American Library Association, has named Makers As Innovators one of the "Top 10 Youth Series Nonfiction" titles. Here is the UMSI news link. You can even find the book on Amazon, though my name is misspelled as "Zizkaj" there.
The last month of Summer went by really quickly and not how I expected it to (insert generic comment about ending a sentence with a preposition). First there was the family vacation on Cape Cod, where everything that could go wrong while weaving did. Then, on my return, I began working full time at Zenith Gallery, repairing artwork and furniture for Margery Goldberg. Between this work and moving out of my studio space; between getting ready to move back to Michigan and planning my wedding, my own work kind of got lost.
In other news, I have a book coming out this fall entitled "3D Modelling", which is part of a series called "Makers As Innovators", a series published by Cherry Lake Publishing and edited by UMSI assistant professor Kristin Fontichiaro. Booklist, a book-review magazine of the American Library Association, has named Makers As Innovators one of the "Top 10 Youth Series Nonfiction" titles. Here is the UMSI news link. You can even find the book on Amazon, though my name is misspelled as "Zizkaj" there.
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Here's a video of the routing and the immediate steps afterwards. It's entirely muted except for a little bit of the routing to show how loud it is. CNC from Theo Zizka on Vimeo. It's been quite a while since I updated this blog. To fill you in on what's been going on, I've been constructing and finishing the chairs and not much else. I have had to file down the marks left by the router, fill the holes in the plywood, cut out the supports/ leg things, file and sand those, fill in the gaps in those, and glue everything together. Then I have had to do more sanding and filing to put fillets on all of the sharp edges, plus fill in the gaps between the legs and the top and bottom (as well as newer gaps opened in the process of things being put together). This is the last week before all physical work is due (though the due date is a dubious one and the gallery opening a week later is much more solid). I'm working on doing all of the final sanding before I treat the chairs with a finish that was recommended to me by Mike. It's polymerized linseed oil and bees wax, and I'm just about to hop in the car and drive to Canton, MI to get some. Don't worry, I've already tested it, and it works great (and it's all natural!).
I acquired a 5' x 7' rug at Salvation Army to put on the floor of the gallery to keep the chairs from getting too banged up, and I got some of these silicone bubble toy things (known as "novelty caterpillars") which I've found can contain the non-newtonian fluid and remain squishy. Steps for the next week: 1. Finish sanding chairs. 2. Apply finish to chairs. 3. Fill silicone toy things with goo. 4. Find good cloth receptacle to hold silicone toy things in cushion-formation. 5. Document chairs w/ cushions w/ people sitting on them. 6. Print out thing to go on wall with photos and explanation. 7. Finish thesis. So, Amazon is sending me 16 gallons of Elmer's glue in the next week or two, I'm continually purchasing cornstarch, and a little borax goes a long ways. The goo that everyone has come to love has a certain consistency that I can't seem to recreate. I did five tests today with different ratios of glue to cornstarch to borax to water, and only two came close to the original. This is, of course, funny because the original was a conglomerate of loosely measured batches mixed together and left to ferment for about a month. This makes me wonder if just going with the flow and mixing batch after batch, adjusting the thickness depending on the whole's consistency might be the best way to go.
Also, I've been looking into making/getting a new website (that's right, old website that I am writing on, your time is coming!). My fiancée has been teaching me some basic HTML 4 and CSS, but John has told us all that, unless we want to show our web developing skills, there's no reason to make our own websites. Therefore, I'll probably find a portfolio site that I agree with and choose that one. Examples include Cargo, Coroflot, Behance, etc. I have noticed, looking back at all of the work I've done during my undergrad, I only like three of my projects for the portfolio, and only one was made in the School of Art and Design. Times may be changing, but the curriculum I studied under was not at all focused on craft, and as such, my portfolio is extremely underdeveloped. My current work will hopefully turn out well enough to be in my portfolio, and that is of course up to me and my work ethic, not to mention Prototyping class focuses exclusively on craft, but only time will tell. I've got to stop going for ambition and instead focus more on quality. If we have a graph with a y-axis that is quality, and an x-axis that is ambition, the area under the line plotted on the graph between the two always has the same area: time. You can try to be super ambitious, but that will end with poor quality. This school focuses so much on raising the ambition, the ideas, that the quality often falls by the wayside. Anyway, rant over, back to work. Intriguing, but I could get a similar reaction with something like plaster or clay. THEREFORE, full throttle, balls to the wall (get your mind out of the gutter, that's a fighter pilot reference), I'm using the material in its goo-state. Below is the postcard image I chose, coupled with the quote on the back. “Men do not quit playing because they grow old; they grow old because they quit playing.” The actual project at this point is going to consist of people dressed in white-collar work suits frolicking and playing in goo. What goes into the gallery, you ask? True, the material hardens over time, so I will need to find a way to present it so that it is in a liquid state. Hence, I will record the performance of interaction with the goo, and put documentation into the gallery in the form of photos and video. Plus, I'll have samples of the material for people to either take home or play with in the gallery.
I have some volunteers, and I think I know where I can find more. I have asked Joe St. George (the faculty member in charge of video and audio equipment) about borrowing recording equipment, and he says it'll be fine. I have also asked Mark Nielsen (the faculty member in charge of the gallery spaces in the school) about using a gallery for filming, and while I won't be able to use Slusser (the huge gallery), there's a good possibility that I can use Warren Robbins, which is a space I am very familiar with. Now, I need materials. I just found out that the 16 gallons of glue I ordered have been canceled, which is a bummer. A huge, enormous, gigantic bummer. I'm going to look into getting cheap bulk cornstarch today, as well as buckets to contain the material until the performance date. I also need some kiddy-pool like structures to hold the material and a way to construct seats and pedestals to contain the material. Time for some driving-around research! On a side note, IP students keep coming to my studio asking to play with the goo in order to take a break from their own work. It's exactly the purpose of the project. Camilla also mentioned trying to make this a project that pisses off the faculty. How can it be made just ridiculous? Huge letters plastered across the gallery or postcard reading "IT'S GOOP"? Something to consider. Not only am I in John's prototyping class on Fridays, but I am in the middle of prototyping this project. I've got prototyping on the brain. What distinguishes prototyping from making models? It's funny you should ask that, dear reader. Prototyping is the process of making and then evaluating models. A prototype is a model, but a model is only a prototype if it was used to consider aesthetics, function, size, etc, of the finished object. John would say that prototyping is a "design method used to remove guesswork from the design process," and I am inclined to agree. So, here is what I've been doing: I'm currently working on placing the copper tubing along the wings in a way that I can later secure the pond liner to them. I then have to work out the issue of sealing the liner so moisture can't escape, and I need to find a way to keep the liner in the seat position without the wings opening completely. I'm sure there are ways. I could attach a rope to the seat part of the liner and attach the other end to the bottom of the frame, that way the rope would slacken when the seat sunk, but would tighten before the seat tried to rise above the right position.
Using the plans and models that I made, I did a little research into how expensive it would be to purchase all of the necessary materials to make a chair or two (not counting more pond liner or more non-newtonian fluid). As per usual, it was a lot. As the bards of yore once sang, "Money money money/ must be funny/ in a rich man's world." I ain't laughin'.
my opinion, the creativity that presents itself when resources are low is the most amazing and valuable kind. Knowing how to make and fix things on a very low budget is an art form. In my own artwork separate from schooling, I build sculptures out of found E-waste. I want to design and build things that recycle old materials. To stay on budget for this project, therefore, I am likely going to build the finished product out of more found objects than previously thought. I was already doing experiments with used chairs, now perhaps the frame of the finished chair(s) will be made of dismantled chairs. Speaking of which, I spent all of yesterday shopping:
I'm taking a break from writing my first draft thesis to ponder a conundrum. This project has been about making a chair. Simultaneously, the research behind this project aims to prove that sitting is unhealthy, and that western, post-industrial society has become too dependent on chairs. Regardless of what my chair hopes to accomplish, it is still a chair. This is precisely why I stopped wanting to be a product designer. I don't want to perpetuate the creation of unnecessary products that end up in dumps. Now I don't want to perpetuate the creation of furniture that truly is not necessary. And yet I am. Is this me actively doublespeaking to myself? I am paradoxically introducing a dilemma that cannot be solved and then trying to solve it. I was writing my thesis, looked at the paragraph I had just written, then backtracked to my first paragraph. They were polar opposites. Poetically, we depend on chairs but we don't really need them per se. The chair was introduced to us at a very early stage in life. As we grow, we are told to stay seated, to not move, and to pay attention. The high chair, the school desk, the college lecture seat, the office desk chair, the sofa, the rocking chair, and the commemorative bench: thus is the life cycle of westernized post-industrial man. E.M. Forster in his 1909 story The Machine Stops (considered the first ever dystopian tale) depicts a world in which humanity is reduced to weak blobs entirely entertained and dependent on a god-like automatic infrastructure called The Machine. People sit in their rooms all day, watching their screens, listening to music, and video-calling people (sound familiar?). When they want to go somewhere, they take the train that is right outside of their door, or an airship for long-distance travel. The main character, Kuno, realizes this dependency all around him and begins exercising, walking instead of taking the convenient transportation, climbing instead of taking elevators, etc. Many societies sit on the ground, and for some bizarre reason, we see this as barbaric. Truly, being able to support one's weight without the need for a chair is an act of independence. Considering the lack of cushioning solid ground gives, one must shift positions to avoid cramps, allow blood flow, and stay comfortable. The more movement the better. The latest paragraph. All things I consider strongly to be important. Compare to the first paragraph: I am exploring human disregard towards seating furniture. I will do this by designing and constructing a piece of furniture that keeps the user conscious of his or her actions and environment by flipping the object-subject relationship. I aim to do this by creating an interactive mechanism that changes the experience constantly, making it seem as though the chair is using the sitter while the opposite is happening, establishing a non-abusive relationship between the two. My goal is that the user will acknowledge the chair and appreciate it without needing to sit upon it for hours on end. I'm trying to get people to stop sitting by making a chair. Why oh why has that just occurred to me? My project in a nutshell:
"Chairs are pretty. People sit on chairs. Sitting is bad. People should not sit on chairs. I make good chair that makes people not want to sit." I suppose such a statement can be used to describe an art piece, but it would fail as a piece of design any day. Although... design is supposed to better the quality of living. This is tricky. How on earth is this going to benefit me in the long run? Oh, and if you haven't noticed, I've switched to solely focusing on "disregard": the act of grabbing a chair and sitting on it without thinking about how long one will be on it, who made the chair, what it might feel, etc. how absurd is that? I don't know how long this will last as my focus--things are changing rapidly. John likes to ask "what do you want?" I'm trying to figure that out. Right now. Wish me luck. Hello. It's been a while. The semester did not end with IP Critiques, it ended with two papers and an exam, and for that reason, I finished my critique and scampered off to write papers and study. I sulked about my performance in the critique, but not about my feedback, which was true and helpful, though I did not, and for that matter still don't know how to proceed. Here is what my panel, consisting of Jan, Marianetta, and Roland had to say: Theo – the committee appreciates your material exploration but is confused regarding your intentions and the final form of your project. Remember you are designing a form as well as an experience. Consider how the form itself (through material, gesture, scale, etc.) can express or suggest the experience. The visual perception of the final object will set the expectations that prime the kinesthetic and tactile experience. In all experience design, expectations – or the breaking thereof – are half the deal. On the night after my final final exam (and I mean final exam of my undergraduate career [!!!!]), I could not sleep. I was tormented by memories of the IP critique, the advice given, the ideas flung, and the work to be done. How does this work fit into my life? Into the life I want to live after college? How much money must I spend on it (I've already spent about one thousand dollars, and the project is crap)? When my partner's alarm went off at 6am and she rose to get ready for work, I finally fell asleep. I dreamed that it was April and that my project was completely finished. I meandered through the empty halls of the Art and Architecture building and entered the Slusser Gallery wherein the culmination of my year, nay, the culmination of four years resided. I had built a chair that was too delicate to be sat on. When observed, it simply stands there, immobile, just like a chair should. But as soon as it senses that it is alone, when there is no movement nearby, it begins to frolic and dance, legs bounding, jumping into the air like a happy goat. This of course would not have been enough to appease the critique panel, so in the dream the chair was accompanied with a projection of a play that I had written, acted in, taped, and edited. The play was a dialogue between me and the chair. The chair could indeed speak: with the push of a slideshow clicker on my end, it would say the next of its lines; the entire performance was staged. We discussed art, design, audiences, and education (I recall the chair shouting at a crucial moment "How can I be art if the audience never sees my movement? My purpose? If there is no audience for my existence, then my creation is meaningless. Why should I have unobservable features?"). Digression: I do not remember my dreams often. The dreams I do recall, however, are bizarre and filled with architectural marvels of my subconscious' making, stories and characters I have never encountered, and so I chronicle said dreams. Dreams are almost always fodder for creativity, not only in the writing cases of Coleridge and Stevenson, but also, I believe, for design and architecture. Upon waking, I thought it was bloody typical that I would make something that could not be watched. After a little reflection, however, I began to mull it over in my head. Writing a play between a work of art and its creator would allow me to physically talk about the things I've been pondering for the past three months. I would not be implying a struggle so much as actually showing it. The piece it self would not be too difficult--I saw how it was constructed in my dream (dream logic is admittedly flawed). I would also be able to combine elements from my creative writing minor, and my senior thesis integrative project would be one part design, one part artwork, and one part play. I talked to a couple of people about this idea (mainly my mother, who is herself a published author of three novels). My mother loved the dream and that my mind combined my stresses into a coherent, albeit absurd solution, but she did not think it should be my final project. At this point, I don't know what to think. Currently working on a book contract, a grant proposal, a collection of short stories, and this project on top of school, work, and family vacation time is making thinking difficult at the moment. My hope is that once I'm back in Michigan, isolated 500 miles from home, I'll be able to work nonstop and come up with some solutions. I have not, as of yet, started writing my 1500 word thesis draft, but because I keep this blog so maintained, I don't believe I'll have much difficulty talking about what I've done and the research behind the project. Now to just figure out what the hell it is I'm doing.... Checklist Accomplished:
One semester. Working on: Relaxing, reflecting, figuring things out. Writing thesis draft numero uno To do: One semester Editing my title for this project has been very difficult thus far. So here's a quick progression:
The main thing I'm trying to convey with this title is "Can Humans Become Conscious of Sitting" or "Can Humans Stop Being Unconscious of Sitting?" , but "CHBCS?" and "CHSBUS?" don't have the same ring as "CHAIR?" I should also stress that Reliance is indeed part of my project (John argued that I did not say anything about Reliance during my mock-presentation, and that's my fault. Though if I couldn't even remember to do that, then how important is it for my project? Hmmmmm...). We are unconscious of sitting because we rely on chairs, we take them for granted, they're ubiquitous. Yeah. I also like John's idea of embracing the question mark and making it the banner of the project. The title then has a dual meaning--the meaning of the actual phrase, whatever it ends up being, and the meaning of asking "Chair?" As in: "Is that a chair?" (and by extension, "what is a chair?") "Do you want a chair?" "Should I use a chair?" "Here chair, where are you?" Stuff to think about. Still not completely settled on a name yet, but it'll come eventually. Just need to coax it out. Also: Seemed appropriate. Frustratingly appropriate. It's sad that the (overwhelmingly accurate) stereotype of art students is really just the stereotype of hipsters in an academic setting. This is something that I endeavor not to be and/or do, although I must admit the "Art Bullshit" makes its way out of my mouth upon occasion.
I'm currently working on things for post-graduation, but in the back of my mind and in my breaks, the experimentation continues. John brought over a slightly thicker-than-normal polyethylene bag Monday which I filled with Oobleck. When the bag is filled with stuff, the effect is not that interesting; the Oobleck doesn't really solidify under pressure--it just spreads, for the polyethylene is slippery. However, if empty most of the Oobleck out of the bag, leaving a thin layer of it sandwiched inside the bag, and then stack bag segments, the effect is fantastic. The material resists pressure, but then slowly oozes away. This would also help with the separating problem, for if there is only a little bit of the Oobleck between polyethylene sheets, there's less room for the liquid and solid to spread. I need to buy some polyethylene sheets and work more on this idea. I've also been outsourcing my experimentation. Aaron has been working with gelatin and just sat on a slab of it for an hour. Initially, the material is like a thick rubber, but after sitting on it for a while, his body heat made it more pliable and gooey. Unlike Oobleck, the gelatin does not separate, and its properties stay relatively the same over time. This would add a different dynamic to the project, but perhaps an interesting one. I need to go out and buy a bunch of gelatin and experiment. NO CHECKLIST THIS IS A CHECK-IN
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