I Am Still Alive

Parisian trash rings

They are green trash bags on a green halo of steel attached to a post or freestanding. They are not bins. Nor are they trash cans. I guess I’ll call them trash rings.

I was in Paris the week before the U.S. launched the Iraq War. I found myself aware of these receptacles placed throughout the city. Their shape and the fact that they did a surprisingly poor job of actually keeping the city clean struck me immediately. The trash rings’ design is largely a society’s reaction to the threat of terrorism.

So as a given, these perform their container functions poorly. The bags tear, they overflow, they spill, they keep our refuse constantly visible. They do, however, do their part to minimize the ease with which a person could discretely place a bomb in a public place. And if a person did place a bomb in one of these containers, the bags’ transparency makes it more likely that the bomb might be discovered in time to avert a disaster. The lack of real structure would make reaching the bomb to defuse or contain it somewhat less complicated. Or if, the bomb was not discovered in time to disarm or at least clear the area, the relative lack of metal structural elements would minimize the shrapnel sent about after an explosion.

In this trash ring you find an important trade-off between functions. The public refuse container evolved out of necessity to organize and conceal the things we discard – to keep them out of sight and out of mind as soon as possible. The trash container must now also protect people from a threat as both immaterial and real as these trash rings themselves. In terms of designing for function, the latter purpose is opposed to the former. So we get trash cans that contain and hide our trash poorly as they have to assume a part in a public’s defense against terrorism.

Although you can’t tell from the photographs above, the bags have the words “vigilance” and “propreté” printed on them – placing vigilance before cleanliness (the similarity between “propreté” and “property” is interesting if nothing else).

Gosh, 2003 feels like so long ago. I am not sure that these are still in use in Paris today. Somebody, holler at me and let me know.

→ Canoe made from disposable chopsticks

The bird can stand again

I received this wooden sculpture as a gift while in France two summers back.

It had obviously been exposed to the elements for some time before coming into my possession. When I got it, the base was splitting and the sculpture couldn’t stand upright on its own (I am assuming that it could at one point stand since the paint on the surfaces that would theoretically face the sun is faded whereas the other surfaces’ paint is still crisp—I may at some point repaint it).

So I didn’t figure I could un-warp the wood, but I could adjust the alignment of the sculpture’s axis by sawing through the base.

Uh. And that’s what I did yesterday evening.

More after the jump

Dujj is a bench, stool, low table

Dujj is a multi-functional piece of furniture. It is a rectangular prism. Its depth, height and width are different lengths. Three of its six faces are paneled. It can be used as a stool, a low table or a two-person bench depending on which plane it sits (I guess it can also be three different & rather useless objects if you sit it on the wrong planes). The frame is made of soft maple and the panels are walnut-veneered ply.

Its massing and uncommon joinery stand in contrast to its otherwise rational and utilitarian structure. It is heavy and a bit awkward to handle. Though the joinery is uncommon and interesting, its complexity assures a time-consuming and (somewhat) expensive fabrication.

We made 9 of them in 2005. They were all sold (I kept one).

More after the jump