Word: perfective
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There's a war on buttons. No, not the clothing kind; bulging American waistlines are the biggest threat they face. This war is against buttons of the electronic variety, those tireless servants that dot elevators, cell phones, car dashboards and control panels the world around. They're the perfect antidote to the baffling binary of a switch. One button, one function, press here to power/submit/self-destruct. Simple? Yes. Elegant? Apparently...
...speedy rise to prominence, courtesy of others' work, reminds some of its founder's own journey. Female ambition is a curious force. When its outlets are blocked, it sometimes seems to settle on the nearest object - a spouse, a child, a cause. But in rare cases, it finds its perfect vehicle. When that happens, it's best to get out of the road or jump in for the ride. Huffington might even let you drive...
Still, I think the Fujitsu "FLEPia" brings us - the people who make magazines, newspapers, books, TV shows and movies - one step closer to fixing our badly broken business model. (The perfect media device also needs to be able to do video.) Once we've got the All-Media Device, we're back in business. In the meantime, the migration from the Web to the post-Web world - where content is easier to consume on new mobile devices, but no longer free - is fully underway. (Read about the new iPod Shuffle...
...French have pronounced The Kindly Ones (the phrase refers to the Furies of Greek myth) a modern masterpiece. In the U.S., the reception has been mixed at best; the New York Times called it "an odious stunt." That it is not. It's far from perfect: Littell has that maddening Continental contempt for paragraph breaks, and he details Max's neuroses with dismaying thoroughness--Max is gay and obsessed with sodomy, which he used to practice with his twin sister, for whom he still yearns (lusty twins being the last resort of the lazy novelist). Above all, there...
Each of Kentridge's film projects generates suites of charcoal drawings, most of them descendants of Goya's desolate readings of human affairs. Charcoal is exactly the right medium for Kentridge. Burnt carbon has a gravity all its own, and it's perfect for Kentridge's blasted landscapes, crowds of eternal refugees and monsters that could be the potbellied Will to Power. His world comes in shades of black, white and gray, with just occasional flecks of red or streams of bright blue that suggest water--a cool comfort against affliction but also the stuff of tears. In Felix Crying...