stalagtite

sour grapes

There have been quite a few studies that tend to indicate that a few, well-spaced random distractions, breaks to look at pictures of dogs and cats, increase over all productivity at the workplace. Part of that logic seems like a concession to me, because after all, what is routinely pressing and requires laser-like focus (or occupies a full eight hours of the day) to begin with? A hypnotic gaze at this cat might restore meaning in your job, since having such luxury to squander might propel one´s work-ethic into over-drive. Or not.

ersatzteil or fantastic plastic

The industrial and design revolution that will make makers and engineers of us all with the rapid introduction of three-dimensional printing is patently exciting, and it will bring in its wake consequences that we cannot foresee in form and function that is instant, intuited and mediated by a collective inspired for its own sake.

The majority of these knock-on effects will be positive, creative—and I think there will be a revitalization of the neighbourhood copy shop, repurposed to print custom extruded plastic dinguses and in the commons of internet cafes and lounges, besides all the workshops and laboratories unhinged with no need to conform to the dimensions of traditional industry. There is a great sense of expediency, of course, which does mark a difference, but plastic smithies are not far removed from the village forge, whose smiths required skill to work the material and envision their product, and I can remember a wonderful, though limited, replicating machine from my childhood: at a metropolitan zoo, there was a contraption that would allow one to choose a souvenir animal, from a selection of molds, and before one’s eyes, inject molten plastic into the form and dispense it—still warm and a bit malleable.
I got a blue elephant, but with this modern invention, I suppose one could wish for anything, from a replacement bumper, a personalized action-figure, a key to leave with the house-sitter, a bicycle-helmet, a scale model of my block, a watering can with a long, thin spout at the right angle to reach the plants without spilling, a pedestal that’s just the right height, to a prosthetic foot, tailor-made. I think the un-apprenticed will quickly acquire the spatial- and stress-knowledge for their Goldie-Locks cobbling, working up to ever bolder and artistic departures from the template through trial and error. The movement would I think bring back a sense of community, things, piece and part being no longer exclusively in the estranging and ransoming hands of business, which is excellent, but I hope the fabric of the revolution is managed in such a way that we are not splintering the problems of manufacturing from a few areas to something omnipresent and contributing more towards pollution and consumption.
Safety and durability should always be a factor along with resource-fulness and caring for the environment, but I suspect that the clever architects of a technology that is continuously progressing will see to that the 3-D printers will become more and more energy efficient (not reduplicated factories in miniature) won’t remain finicky machines (like cheap paper printers with their exacting and costly refill cartridges) but will be able to process plastics presently destined for the recycling bin and sort-yard. It will be nice to see the return of collection drives, as well, as recycling too becomes an immediate process.

it slices, it dices

We picked up some paper napkins from the Einrichtungshaus decorated with this very clever pattern (Muster) of antique kitchen implements. I have a general aversion to disposable napkins and try to use them sparingly and always twice, but they are important to presentation like the vintage catalogue depicted. I hope that these anonymous designers know that their work does not go unappreciated.
We have a growing collection of fish knives, relish-trays, cake servers, coasters, salt-cellars, moutardes, mortars and pestles, coffee mills, icing spoons, and more usual utensils, like these silver forceps for grasping a hot, hard-boiled egg or these serving tongs for slippery asparagus, which we try to put to purpose every chance we get and not just have as decoration. It is not about etiquette or intimidating table-manners but rather just opportunity.  Do you have a quiver of specialized kitchen tools just waiting for their moment to shine, as well?

bring a sweater

vins de primeur or painting the roses red

Although the concept of organic (Bio) foods has gone through some reversals lately in terms of health, environment impact and efficiency, I was not one to completely discount the label. I did grow a bit leery of the movement, however, when it started encroaching on water and wine—the first was recanted as a gimmick, and as for vinification, I wondered how respectable wine-makers would allow wine-hacks to sully their product, since surely there are standards governing the whole production process as well as tradition. They’d have to call it something else, like Champ-pail or Hwine, if it was too treated, wouldn’t they?
The local grocery store recently, however, had a handbill, a guide for vegetarian and vegan wines (initially I thought it would be about pairing the right wine with a vegetarian meal), that was part informative and part pandering fretful-consumer purists, I thought at first. Apparently producers are allowed a few shortcuts, more prevalent among vintages brought to market within the same calendar year (which is not necessarily a sign of a cheap wine, since only a fraction actually improve with age after that first year), and one such hack involves clarifying the pulp (Must, Most) with natural, albeit animal-derived products, like gelatin (made out of old bones and hooves, like the coating for medicine capsules), fish oil, egg white, and casein (a milk protein).

Some of the selection suitable for vegetarian and vegan diets is identified with an organic (Bio) label, but certainly not all and there was a surprising amount of vintners that are sold internationally and available at many stores, like the French Grand Sud and JP Chenet brands, Australian Badgers’ Creek, Californian Western Cellars and the majority of Italian varieties. Although I don’t subscribe to the strictest forms of vegetarianism, I do respect those who choose to and know it’s hard enough keeping clear of animal products, especially when they are snuck in as part of the refining process. There are more than principles behind this, since people ought to know what’s reliably kosher and be able to choose. In the end, it’s not just about lifestyle, since these bovine- and chemical-understudies, catalysts have unpredictable consequences and probably are cryptic contributors to poor health and over-sensitivity (and the de-sensitivity leading to abusing food and drink as well) and the explosion in allergies.

mountain high, valley low

Two recent articles featured via Neatorama offer up an intriguing triangulation touching ethics, technical feasibility, the capacity for imagination as well as questioning what it means to be human through the lens of speciation. The latter points to a very interesting interview between reporters with Der Spiegel and a Harvard professor who is one of the leading thinkers in the field of synthetic biology, regarding the possibility of resurrecting the Neanderthals, whose genetic map has already been successfully sequenced and cloning this branch of the family of man would be (after all the questions are answered, and the scientist and his team invite public debate as essential) a relatively simple matter of finding a willing surrogate.
Like the Jurassic era (adapted into an early cautionary-tale) is named for a mountain range in the western alps, the sub-species Neanderthal is named after a valley (Tal) near Düsseldorf, frequented by a pastor in the 1800s, called Joachim Neumann (Neander is the Greek-form of new man) for inspiration. The characteristic limestone layer of the age was first discovered in the Jura mountains, and the fossilized skeleton of our cousins was first recognized for what it could be in Neander’s valley. Notwithstanding the harvests of genetically modified crops that have infiltrated our food supplies mostly out of business interest (we have not yet made good on the promise of drought-resistant crops for famine-struck regions but that is not a profit that companies can necessarily take to the bank), vaccines, and pedigrees of dogs and cats, it is not acceptable to create or revive sentient beings purely for the benefit and advancement of human kind—in the style of Planet of the Apes, however, Neanderthal physique was at minimum more robust than ours and may have been smarter than their lither and perhaps crueler competitors.

We already do not know how to procede with the little knowledge we already have about tinkering with DNA and are not able to treat other humans humanely, so perhaps this sort of thinking is a bit premature but it still does not remain unreachably in the realm of fantasy. Neanderthals could conceivably have a different take on intellect and help solve the problems that the surviving Homo sapiens created, make new scientific discoveries and be kinder, more empathetic leaders—maybe the ruling class we need rather than putting our trust in the hands of robotic overlords. Mingling our genetic material would create more diversity, too, and perhaps provide resistance to a host of human diseases. These last two benefits lead to the former article regarding what the Star Trek franchise has taught us about evolutionary biology.
The humans accepted the benevolent tutelage of the more experienced Vulcans before arrogantly taking on the Universe like the Wild West, and characters like Mr. Spock, Mr. Worf (Worf was raised by adoptive human parents), Counselor Troi, and B’elanna Torres were outstanding representatives of both sides of their families. One wonders if alien races could really inter-breed, and perhaps it was just a plot-device to excuse costuming and set-design due to budget-constraints (the teleporter was written into the storyline because it was cheaper than staging a ship landing every episode) but the analysis recalls an episode from the Next Generation that explains the humanoid appearance through panspermia, orchestrated by a dying primogenitor race—as well as the hybrid children, since the concept of specie is marked by the ability to cross-breed naturally. Maybe science fiction does not answer all the ethical and philosophical quandaries when it comes to experimenting with genetics, but it probably does provide a good place to start.

moving day (part the first) or needful things

The day is approaching, and although it has been on the horizon for some time I felt like there was more time always, or my new job to start that will have me migrating during the work week.

I will still get to come home on the weekends, but this arrangement is going to be intolerably strange I think in the beginning. I am, however, pleased with the little apartment we found near enough to everything to make driving unnecessary—I was never suited to driving in larger German cities in the first place and it would take some time to build up confidence and courage to not leave the car on the outskirts somewhere—which H and I started delivering some effects to recently. It came fully furnished, which is a bonus in itself—being able to avoid duplications for a temporary arrangement, and done so with a nice and personal touch.

As I spent a few hours alone in the room, however, thinking “hello, walls” my mind raced over a hundred artefacts that could it in this or that nook and corner. One can never think of everything, but it’s amazing how quickly one can build up and visualize the missing inventory, like when returning home after an extended vacation and the dimensions and relations of familiar things seem somehow exaggerated and being out-of-place is easier to spot. In any case, despite whatever was left out (that I could bring on my next trip), I had a rather large world globe from the early 1950s, a peripatetic library of books to read, and an antique butter-churn in a jar, which I consider far superior than any trifling convenience left out.

One item overlooked, probably more by my own carelessness than anything else, was the key to my postbox, which was also not labeled. Searching for the likely slot, I saw that I had a quite special fellow-occupant (Whom I hope to never meet and spoil the illusion) and that He does not have time for junk mail either. It will be a change, certainly, and although I walk already quite a bit, I could detect the difference in culture along urban streets already, like one is transported a bit more when accompanied by stately homes and enterprise, but I think everything will be OK.