Bear Shot in Design Studio
“New office mascot: @zeldman rocking a bear costume” by Phillip Reyland. Photographed at A Space Apart, NYC.
Bear suit courtesy of Shopify. No animals were harmed. Happy Twenty-Thirteen, everybody.
To Leiden, To Leiden
THEY’RE SLEEPING in New York. They’re sleeping all over the world. Even here in Leiden, The Netherlands, they’re still mumbling and drooling in their beds. But not me. I’m awake and packing for my return home to NYC after three glorious days here in this ancient university town, where I was privileged to speak at the first Inspire conference. And all you got were these lousy photos.
- Holland 2012 Inspire – my Leiden and conference photos on Flickr
- Ready to Inspire – conference about web design, type and code
- Follow inspireconf on Twitter
- My Leiden – a Foursquare list
- City of Leiden homepage
- Leiden on Wikipedia
Related: Design Problem
My Brother is a Monster
MY MOTHER played piano and cello. My father draws, paints, and sculpts; plays trumpet and guitar; and led an advanced R&D lab in the 1970s, developing robotics and rocket parts. You know what I do, but I also play keyboards and other instruments, studied music theory, and composed and produced music in my own studio before failing up into my present career. We Zeldmans go our own way, bring our own juice, and leave a trail of tears and gold. But my brother Pete Zeldman is the real talent in the family.
My brother Pete spontaneously composes and performs music of such rhythmic complexity that Edgard Varèse and Frank Zappa would be proud. Even with an advanced music degree, you’d have a tough time following the music analytically. But you don’t have to, because it grooves. That’s the crazy surprise of it. My brother plays 17 in the time of 16 in the time of 15 in the time of 14, with cross rhythms in simultaneous 3/4 and 7/8, and you could dance to it. Admittedly, you couldn’t pogo, but it doesn’t pretend to be punk. Musically it is probably the exact opposite of punk, but spiritually it is punk because it is pure affirmation.
My brother made two CDs before releasing his new video, Enigma, this week. I listen to these CDs a lot. Although I’ve watched my brother develop his unique rhythmic musical theories over the past 20 years, I don’t attempt to “follow” the music in any analytical fashion while listening. I just let it wash over me. So can you.
New art is rarely understood. New music is rarely what the people want. They threw tomatoes at Debussy and Stravinsky, and now their compositions are gentle backgrounds for dentist’s offices. White people laughed at rock and roll and their children danced to it. Those rockers laughed at hip hop and their kids dance to it. My brother’s music is like that. It is something new. It’s not going to be a movement because it takes a certain kind of twisted genius to conceive of and play it. But you might like it. And if you’re a drummer, you probably need to hear it.
PBS Off Book video: The Art of Web Design
I’M OFF to Lisbon, Portugal, for Refresh LX, “an affordable conference for busy web designers.” See you soon!
Insites: The Book Honors Web Design, Designers
“INSITES: THE BOOK is a beautiful, limited edition, 256-page book presented in a numbered, foil-blocked presentation box. This very special publication features no code snippets and no design tips; instead, 20 deeply personal conversations with the biggest names in the web community.
“Over the course of six months, we travelled the US and the UK to meet with Tina Roth Eisenberg, Jason Santa Maria, Cameron Moll, Ethan Marcotte, Alex Hunter, Brendan Dawes, Simon Collison, Dan Rubin, Andy McGloughlin, Kevin Rose and Daniel Burka, Josh Brewer, Ron Richards, Trent Walton, Ian Coyle, Mandy Brown, Sarah Parmenter, Jim Coudal, Jeffrey Zeldman, Tim Van Damme, and Jon Hicks.
“We delved into their personal journeys, big wins, and lessons learned, along with the kind of tales you’ll never hear on a conference stage. Each and every person we spoke to has an amazing story to tell — a story we can all relate to, because even the biggest successes have the smallest, most humble of beginnings.” — Insites: The Book
I am honored to be among those interviewed in this beautiful publication.
Insites: The Book is published by Viewport Industries in association with MailChimp.
The Great Discontent & Me
In celebration of TGD turning one tomorrow, we’re going back to our roots. Jeffrey Zeldman—the “godfather of web standards”—has already left an indelible mark on the web industry and those of us who work in it, but what of his life before that? We met Jeffrey at A Space Apart, where he recounted a journey that started long before the [web] was born.
I’m honored to share this lovely, free-form interview: The Great Discontent: Jeffrey Zeldman.
From an imaginary novel
I AM Jewish but my parents named me Jesus, which they pronounced Hay-Seuss, with an emphasis on the Hay. You can imagine the joy of being me in public school. First day of kindergarten, Miss Terwilliger called out, “Jesus. Jesus? Jesus!” And I sat there like a stuffed dummy, because I didn’t recognize the name. About the fifth Jesus, I realized she meant me, and cried out, “It’s Hay-Seuss,” with an emphasis on the Hay. Laughter rang in the classroom, followed by beatings at recess. Like my namesake, I was destined to suffer for the sins of others, although in my case it was only for the sins of Mr and Mrs Kaplan.
Little Jesus, Happy At Last—coming in 2015 from Jeffrey Zeldman
Leo Laporte interviews JZ
IN EPISODE 63 of Triangulation, Leo Laporte, a gracious and knowledgeable podcaster/broadcaster straight outta Petaluma, CA, interviews Your Humble Narrator about web standards history, responsive web design, content first, the state of standards in a multi-device world, and why communists sometimes make lousy band managers.
Filed under: business, businessweek, client management, client services, clients, content, Content First, CSS3, Curation, Dan Benjamin, Design, E-Books, Ethan Marcotte, findability, Google, Happy Cog™, HTML, HTML5, Jeremy Keith, Microsoft, podcasts, Publishing, Real type on the web, Redesigns, Responsive Web Design, Standards, State of the Web, The Big Web Show, Usability, User Experience, UX, Web Design, Web Design History, Web Standards, Zeldman
My mind and welcome to it
IN MY DREAM I was designing sublime new publishing and social platforms, incandescent with features no one had ever thought of, but everybody wanted.
One of my platforms generated pages that were like a strangely compelling cross between sophisticated magazine layouts and De Stijl paintings. Only, unlike De Stijl, with its kindergarten primary colors, my platform synthesized subtle color patterns that reminded you of sky and water. Anyone – a plumber, a fishmonger – could use the tool to immediately create pages that made love to your eyes. In the hands of a designer, the output was even richer. Nothing on the web had ever touched it.
Then the dream changed, and I was no longer the creator. I was a sap who’d been off sniffing my own armpits while the internet grew up without me. A woman I know was using the platform to create magazines about herself. These weren’t just web magazines, they were paper. And they weren’t just paper. In the middle of one of her magazines was a beautiful carpet sample. The platform had designed the carpet and woven it into the binding of the printed magazine. I marveled at her output and wished I had invented the platform that allowed her to do these things. Not only was I no longer the creator, I seemed to be the last sap on earth to even hear about all these dazzling new platforms.
Then I was wandering down an endless boardwalk, ocean on my right, a parade of dreary seaside apartment buildings on my left. Each building had its own fabulous content magazine. (“Here’s what’s happening at 2171 Oceanfront Walk.”) The magazines appeared on invisible kiosks which revealed themselves as you passed in front of each building. The content, created by landlords and realtors, was so indifferent as to be unreadable. But this did not matter a bit, because the pages so dazzled in their unholy beauty that you could not look away. Every fool in the world had a meaningless publication which nobody read, but which everyone oohed and ahed at as they passed. And I — I had nothing to do with any of it. I was merely a spectator, a chump on a tiresome promenade.
For Tim and Max. You are the future.