I’ll admit I’ve always had a fascination for nesting dolls. As a child I loved a set my grandparents had. It was certainly the combination of rarely getting to touch them and the inherent secretness of little people within people.

These examples designed by Sweden’s Ingela Arrhenius available from OMM Design, are amazing. I particularly like the amount of mustaches on the circus set.

Both can be yours for 21 EUR each.


— Anthony P. Munoz


Here’s an amazing collection from Uppercase Magazine’s own Janine. She has her typewriter ribbon tin collection uploaded up on flickr.

Definitely check it out.

Lots more ribbon tins at UPPERCASE.

— Anthony P. Munoz


A family of tubular steel furniture with kinks. The tubing used in the furniture is not bent – as is normally the case – but rather functionally folded, dented and kinked. The chairs, tables and other furniture derive their final form and function by means of this intentional process of “damaging” the tubular steel: the process’ traces, which would normally be regarded as defects, are in fact integral to the furniture’s design.


The series “KINK” consists of a table, chair, writing table, cantilever chair, sideboard, shelf, coffee table and floor lamp made exclusively of tubular steel, pine wood and clamps. All exhibited objects are part of a small limited edition and exclusively available at HELMRINDERKNECHT contemporary design gallery.

Image in the Pilsen Neighborhood

Secretive UK street artist, Banksy, puts his mark on Chicago as confirmed by his website.

Imagenear Randolph & Peoria ala “Untouchables”.

Is this part of a promotional stunt for his new cinema venture, “Exit Through The Gift Shop“? Probably.


Landmark Century Centre Cinema
2828 North Clark Street, Chicago, IL
1:45 4:30 7:45 10:15pm

Thanks for the tip Livingroom Realty.

Image poster design by Alanna Bailey

May 14th, 15th, and 16th
Friday & Saturday at 8pm
Sunday show at 5pm

1732 North Humboldt

A review by trailerpilot aka Zachary Whittenburg:

This third annual show at Random House—literally a house, in Humboldt Park—began in the attic. An audience of about 20 gathered on the floor, on small mats. We were faced on both sides by eight canvas shades which rose, one by one, for brief pieces. Kate Sheehy, one of the event’s organizing forces (a trio that goes by Schjweet Troika), sang a little song praising the virtues of failure called “no brakes” while trying to balance on a child’s bicycle. (Later I found out Sheehy rides unicycles, and those tall bikes you’ll start seeing around again soon.) Cобака (Dog for A.M.), a scene for three written by Sharon Lanza, followed with a smart spoof on meta-theatrical self-consciousness played by two girls in a tent, at twilight at a summer camp, interrupted periodically by a stern, mirthless counselor demanding “lights out!” There was a sweetly-odd dance solo in a cramped corner (by becca hopson), a high-camp ode to chewing gum jingles and ’80s aerobics (Donnell Williams and Jyl Fehrenkamp’s Stuck on You), and a frank short story about a first trip on hallucinogenic mushrooms read by Sara Kerastas. Meredith Miller sang “Mack the Knife” with a thousand-yard stare during blood and bile/brecht and weill, unfolding swatches of burlap stained with silhouettes in blood—it was like a graphic-novella-as-crime-scene, the worms and beetles that scurry out if you peek at the mud under Sinatra’s rendition. Closing the attic show, Random House resident Jessica Hudson and Kyle Casey performed “the space between,” a song they co-wrote, separated by a miniature cityscape above which tiny hot air balloons drifted slowly toward one another, then up to the peak of the attic roof. “Do you know of a place…where I’ll be, and you’ll be/in the space between longing and relief?” they asked each other. “Come with me,” they sang. “I need you to see what I see.” The performers were illuminated by the audience: Flashlights distributed beforehand were passed around so those with the best angles could keep them lit.

Back on the second floor, we watched the second act, a mini film festival. The clinical control of Logan Kibens’s Prep Room (2009)—shot in a mortuary—paired nicely with Catie Olson and EC Brown’s hilariously-odd Lanolin Dreams (2010), which suggested that zooming closely in on a sheep’s coat would reveal strands of hair singing sambas and bossa novas in Portuguese. Cabela’s, another recent short, by Marilyn Volkman, asked you to draw your own conclusions from footage of kids firing toy rifles and a talking trophy head, probably shot at one of the hunting retailer’s zany destination stores (two of which are nearby, in Hammond, Indiana, and Hoffman Estates). Casey Smallwood’s Bleeding into the Alter drills into the artist’s recurring interest in self-imposed narratives of ideality via improvised interviews with actors playing romance novelists, an apt counterpoint to LETS DO THIS, (2010), Hudson, Sheehy and Danielle Paz’s Plan B of a film. While cutting what seems to have been intended as a Vodka Movie -like goof-off, they found an alternate story: Candid moments of the friends directing one another and negotiating the cooperation necessary to their collaborative venture. I can’t say whether it’s better than the movie they planned to make, but it’s insightful anyhow. Especially satisfying was imagining Plan A left behind on the shoulder of their creative fast lane, its thumb stuck out in vain as it watched this poem of what were supposed to be cast-offs roar into the sunset, pedal to the metal.

On the way downstairs to the house’s yard—for a set by band The Counterpane, pizza, beer and a fire—I walked through Sam Bryer’s installation, Groundwork. Soft-sculpture stalagtite-tentacles hung from the ceiling, teasing glimpses of a small stool. Once seated, I noticed that the forms could also be roots of an imagined tree which, if it existed, would have branches growing straight through the projector screen I’d just been watching, and the attic where I’d sat cross-legged with my flashlight. Two pouches hung from the wall on my left: One was filled with a bunch of black Sharpies, the other with hand-formed pellets containing wildflower seeds. As instructed, I wrote a few words on one, a wish for what I’d like to germinate for the year ahead, and dropped it into a sea sponge -looking bag. After sundown, Bryer emptied the bag into a bowl of water. The remaining audience members and I knelt around the bowl and plunged our hands into the dish, breaking down the pellets until we had a soupy mush, which we then planted in a plot in a corner of the house’s garden. “Mix everyone’s dreams together,” instructed Bryer.

Via email, Hudson writes that she’s “resistant to return to her ‘normal’ life” after three weekend performances of “Origins.” I was surprised to hear her art/life relationship seems like a dichotomy—“Origins” felt to me, as The Lily’s Revenge did, like an invitation to a more caring and creative approach to all choices, and I left Random House assuming Schjweet Troika and friends had made some discovery allowing them to do just that, always, without lapse, interruption or hesitation. Hudson—who is, full disclosure, like a few others involved, a good friend—is of course as vulnerable as any of us to “real” life’s petty annoyances and profound pain. Will the cooperative spirit these shows share, I wondered, always feel apart from daily experience? And, if so, is that telling evidence of a collective jump off our rails (and rockers)? I’m looking at the week ahead, another seven days either at my desk or in a theater. I expect to see some interesting, challenging, intriguing, beautiful and intelligent things. I’ll likely also witness a few moments that fall short of their intent and/or haven’t quite discovered one. Nothing will ask me to get my hands dirty, though, and in the afterglow of an experience like “Origins,” that feels like a problem.


Authors: Swoon
Imprint: Abrams Books
ISBN: 0-8109-8485-7
EAN: 9780810984851
Publishing Date: 5/1/2010
Trim Size: 10 1/2 x 8
Page Count: 192
Cover: Hardcover
Illustrations: 200 full-color illustrations


About the book
This first monograph on the street artist Swoon (aka Caledonia Curry) is a crash course on the incredible range of her diverse artistic practices. Filled with brilliant color photographs, the book brings reader to streets around the world to see her life-size prints and paper cutouts that transform as natural elements slowly erode and destroy them. It travels across the waters to include striking images from her most recent projects, Swimming Cities, which show a team of volunteer craftsmen scavenging junk to create makeshift steamships that are part floating artwork, part performance, and part experiments in communal living. And it brings readers inside her art collective, Toyshop, which orchestrates organic public theater that includes everything from street parties to public demonstrations. Woven together seamlessly, and accompanied by essays from fellow artists and famed gallery owner Jeffrey Deitch, this book showcases the work of one of the art world’s brightest stars.

About the author
SWOON has been creating street art in New York City since 1999. She studied painting at the Pratt Institute in Brooklyn and has traveled internationally to create exhibits and host workshops. Her work can be seen at the Museum of Modern Art, the Brooklyn Museum, the Tate Modern, or on the streets of Brooklyn.

Jeffrey Deitch is the owner of Deitch Projects in Brooklyn.


Chairless is not a replacement, but rather an alternative for a chair, particularly in situations where a chair isn’t available: at the park, beach or anywhere else outdoors; at concerts; in lecture halls and at seminars; in crowded trains and airport lounges. Of course, the strap can also be used at home on the carpet.


Chairless takes pressure off the back and thigh muscles. Arms and hands, which we normally need for support or to grab our legs when sitting on the floor, can be used for other activities. With Chairless, reading, writing, eating, drinking, making phone calls or using an iPod pose no problems at all.


Chairless is based on a sitting strap commonly used by the Ayoreo Indians. The nomadic tribe living in the Gran Chaco region (border region between Paraguay and Bolivia) has employed similar textile straps as a sitting aid for as long as anyone can remember. Chilean architect Alejandro Aravena came across the sitting strap and recognised its potential. In cooperation with Vitra, he developed Chairless into a product.

Vitra has had a long association with Alejandro Aravena. The young Chilean attracted international attention early in his career with his socially and environmentally oriented projects. In 2007, Rolf Fehlbaum commissioned him to design a workshop building on the Vitra Campus in Weil am Rhein.

ImageAlejandro Aravena


Chairless is designed for people who are between 1.60 and 1.95 metres (5 ft 3 in and 6 ft 5 in) tall. The strap made of wear-resistant polyamide comes in four colours: anthracite with decorative stripes in fuchsia or dark lime; dark lime with decorative stripes in fuchsia; fuchsia with decorative stripes in dark lime.

A portion of the proceeds from Chairless goes to the non-profit organisation called the Foundation for Indigenous Communities in Paraguay, which directly supports the Ayoreo Indians.

Buy it here when it’s not sold out.