1. madewithpaper:

    Apple Event on Mix

    Last week we sketched the Apple event together on Mix with Paper. Different people, perspectives, and insights – well over 128 of them. See the remix family here.”

    –FiftyThree CEO Georg Petschnigg

    Learn more about Mix.

     
  2. weandthecolor:

    Handmade Logotypes by Mateusz Witczak

    Check out this selection of 30 handmade logotypescreated by Mateusz Witczak.

    You can find more information about his hand letterings on WATC.

    Follow WE AND THE COLOR on:
    Facebook
     I Twitter I Google+ I Pinterest I Flipboard I Instagram

     
  3. rachelhills:

    snpsnpsnp:

    Melissa Auf Der Maur to Durga Chew-Bose, of course.

    Good work. Good people. Good life.

     

  4. Love is not wrong — Personal note


    There is a part of me that longs for these words to be perfect. It wishes for each phrase to carry its intended message, to not become hung up on parts of speech or silly embellishments… Yet, there is another side that understands the stark, blatant truth: Words will be imperfect. Regardless of skill, verbosity, eloquence — some form of this written word will undoubtedly be perceived differently then its original writer intended. Such is the risk of the written word. It’s vulnerable. It has faults. It is imperfect.

    I once believed love was entirely singular. You could only love one person. One at a time. Only them, only once, only forever. Love was either eternal, or it didn’t exist. Recent weeks have proved this understanding to be woefully incorrect. There is not one love. Love by itself is not a singularity, but an emotion — that by itself should imply that it is undefinable. It simply is. (A rambling paragraph, I know, but stay with me.)

    In a rather spontaneous and crazed-flurry of what some might call, Spring Cleaning, I happened to stumble upon an old relic (not really a relic, per se, but something that holds a significant value in the history of my short life on Earth) which awoke the deepest of memories. Interesting, how an inanimate object holds such incredible meaning — anyway — the discovery set of a chain-reaction, and I immediately found myself engulfed in both the past and present, all at once. Within this (rather large) book housed some of the most profound and insightful experiences of my life. It also contained (the whole reason for me typing out this written word) the memories of a young woman (who now is among some of the most significant people in my life).

    Now, dear reader, before you’re immediately deterred from this lengthy story — know that this is not the work of some lovesick puppy who yearns to be reconnected with the-one-who-got-away (Or is it?) No, really. I promise. It’s not. (Or is it?) Okay, really now. It’s not. I’m being silly. It’s late, and this is what happens when silly creative people start writing all of that constant noise that goes on inside their head. Anywhoo — back to the thing.

    I’m not going to name said young woman here. She’s special, and her anonymity will hopefully keep her that way. What you should know, and, I suppose, the whole reason for finally writing out these feelings on paper, is — she’s special not because of what she looks like or any superfluous reason. What makes this young woman — we’ll call her Luma, meaning “light” — special, is that she was beside me in the darkness. During the hard times. The ugly ones. Those nasty, gritty, filthy parts of our lives we’d rather no one else ever see. She was there for them all. Or, if not physically present, she knows of them. She sat beside me in my grief. Held my hand. Embraced me while I wept. She did not shy away. Or try and take it from me. Or try and fix it.

    Luma is exactly what I needed at exactly the right time. Through her, I caught but a glimpse of what life could be. It was enough to sustain me. To this day, it is what sustains me when it feels as if everything else has fallen away.

    Ever since I stumbled upon that old relic, things have been different. I find her floating between my thoughts, in visions or in dreams… And it’s not some lust-filled desire. There’s not a longing for romantic-connection. She’s just there. Present. Like a spirit that follows a warrior through the dark wilderness, guiding and nurturing along the journey; a reminder that all is never lost and love can be the most sustaining and powerful ally of all.

    Now, at first, I was terrified of this realization. Surely these feelings were misplaced — it had been nearly two years since we’d shared the same breathing space, and yet, that same soul-binding connection still existed when I reached across the internet to say hello. That was when I knew. And is knowing I became frightened. What did this feeling mean? How was I to understand what was going on? What were these emotions my body was telling me? Should I react to them? Should I recoil and pretend they don’t exist? It’s is ironic that such thoughts would occur in relating to someone as special as Luma. We stood in the trenches together, bound side by side in darkness. Surely, this too, was a darkness that would pass.

    Humans, by nature, are quite reactionary. It takes intense practice and training to remove the consciousness from a reactive-state and transform it into a meditative one. And that’s exactly what I did. I went back — back to being alone with my thoughts and feelings. Instead of recoiling or suppressing them, I allowed the ecstasy to fill veins to the tips of my fingers and toes, and I sat with those emotions. I listened. I learnt. I knew these feelings would not subside. There was a reason to them, a purpose for existing.

    It was love. Love for Luma — again, not some superfluous, romantic crusade — but a genuine, profound connection from one human to another, forged by standing side-by-side in the darkness. We not only fought demons together, but learnt how to love together. And this, above all, was why such an emotion remained. Years later, after barely a whisper between us, and still there was a connection that many humans seldom share between one another.

    After this, I eventually expressed these thoughts and feelings. Not as in-depth as what I’ve written here, but enough that she’s aware of her significance in my life. I have let her know that I do not expect or intend for anything to change. Our lives are our own. Perhaps in another life we are destined to share the same path together, perhaps not. It matters little. She knows the impact she’s created on my life, and that’s good enough for me. I know that regardless of circumstance, of time or place — I will always love her. I love her for what she is and who she’s grown to be. I will love her for the guidance and the experiences that we have shared.

    I understand now that it is okay to love her for these things. I am not wrong by it. I was brought to tears in the moment I realized how much she meant to me. It was how I knew these feelings were genuine and pure. As to the future — it’s wide open. I welcome the on-coming dawn.


    Personal note
    June 1, 2014

     
  5. typostrate:

    Vive le football libre

    is the elementary sentence for our german nation. We love football/soccer and are proud of our team, especially at the world championship 2014 in brazil. For that reason and for the love of soccer, we found this amazing artwork by french designer Pierre Jeanneau from Paris. Vive le football libre means live the free football game. Sponsored by nike it has to be a perfect commercial. We love the handdrawn typography supporting the feeling of liberty.

    Follow Typostrate on: typostrate on facebook typostrate on twitter typostrate on pinterest typostrate on google plus typostrate rss

     

  6. This link felt entirely appropriate for a Tumblr audience.

     
  7. 30secondstomars:

    A typical record deal is structured something like this.

    Own ARTIFACT today for as low as $7.99 from iTunes Movies + get the full story.

    (Source: styleto)

     

  8. The pride these players have is exceptional.

     

  9. A point, this author makes.

     

  10. rachelhills:

    image

    I’ve been listening to Lorde a lot over the past few weeks. Probably my favourite thing about her music, lyrically speaking, is the way she writes about growing up on the periphery. The low-fi mundanity of teenage life outside the Hollywood industrial complex. Of riding the train to a…