Monday, October 31, 2011

usb ports are the new castors.

Where was I?

I was making chocolate.

That is what happens when Ikea decides to sell a side table for $3.99. People like me start doing things like this.  Thank you Ikea!! After making chocolate the other day, as I licked the back of my neck clean, it struck me that I could never do that with epoxy and sawdust! Chocolate may well be the best medium in the world.  It sounds impossible for one medium to be better than another medium by definition but chocolate has pleasantly defiant aspects and this is one of them.

I know a thing or two about medium. One semester in college I got my report card and had five 'C's. No pluses and no minuses. I couldn't believe it either. Someone once told me that the coach only notices the first guy and the last guy but without the 'C', greatness and failure are like the walls of a deflated balloon: Undefined and flapid. 

As I make the transition from whatever I was doing before, to making chocolate, I realize that my departure might not have such a huge effect on things. So little so, as a matter of fact, that it inspired a proposal.  I propose a moratorium on all furniture design and manufacture! Enough is enough! Unless you have something really sick to add to the pile, go do something else. Put a usb port in it and call it done. 

No more interestingly paired materials and surprising transitions. No more architectural stacks and broken planes. No more coldhouse porn regurgitated Dwell stainless furry fastened knockdown ice cube cozy cowhide bullshit! Enough!!!

My advice to you is to go to the vintage store and buy some used furniture. Get something good. There is plenty of good furniture out there and we don't need more. 

I am including stuff made from reclaimed wood or recycled materials. No nothin'. 

People who are good at furniture would also be good at other things. If you know anyone like this, encourage them to figure out what that is and to go do it. It will be better that way. Come on, no new furniture for one stinkin' year. 

Are you with me?