Muere de muerte lejana
la que ama al viento.

CREON
  Am I to rule by other mind than mine?
HAEMON
  No city is property of a single man.
CREON
  But custom gives possession to the ruler.
HAEMON
  You'd rule a desert beautifully alone.

ANTIGONE
  Death yearns for equal law for all the dead.
CREON
  Not that the good and the bad draw equal shares.
ANTIGONE
  Who knows but this is holiness below?
CREON
  Never is the enemy, even in death, a friend.
ANTIGONE
  I cannot share in hatred, but in love.
CREON
  Then go down there, if you must love, and love the dead. No woman rules me while I live.

Throughout this opening sequence, Godard systematically deprives the viewer. There is no cross-cutting. The viewer is not allowed to see, to become involved. He is only allowed to hear.

Only after Nana and Paul break off their fruitless conversation to leave the counter and play a game at the pinball machine, do we see them. Even here, the emphasis remains on hearing. As they go on talking, we continue to see Nana and Paul mainly from behind. Paul has stopped pleading and being rancorous. He tells Nana of the droll theme his father, a schoolteacher, received from one of his pupils on an assigned topic, The Chicken. "The chicken has an inside and an outside," wrote the little girl. "Remove the outside and you find the inside. Remove the inside, and you find the soul." On these words, the image dissolves and the episode ends.

It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances. The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.

At midnight, alone on the shore. One moment more and then I shall set sail. The sky itself has weighed anchor, with all its stars, like those ships which at this very hour gleam throughout the world with all their lights and illuminate dark harbour waters. Space and silence weigh equally upon the heart. A sudden love, a great work, a decisive act, a thought which transfigures, all these at certain moments bring the same unbearable anxiety, linked with an irresistible charm. Is living like this in the delicious anguish of being, in exquisite proximity to a danger whose name we do not know the same as rushing to our doom? Once again, without respite, let us go.

I have always felt that I was living on the high seas, threatened, at the heart of a royal happiness.

When greedy consumption is the order of the day, dehumanization becomes acceptable. Then, treating people like objects is not only acceptable but is required behavior. It’s the culture of exchange, the tyranny of marketplaces values. Those values inform attitudes about love.

But then, thinking about the age in which we live, where technology has brought triumphs under the North Pole and on the Moon, but also fat and softness to many men, victims of too much comfort, I said to myself, after all, what is more beautiful today than still being able to run barefoot and do somersaults in the fields.

Women defend themselves by attacking, just as they attack by sudden and strange surrenders.

Women, as some witty Frenchman once put it, inspire us with the desire to do masterpieces, and always prevent us from carrying them out.

I believe that if one man were to live out his life fully and completely, were to give form to every feeling, expression to every thought, reality to every dream – I believe that the world would gain such a fresh impulse of joy that we would forget all the maladies of mediaevalism, and return to the Hellenic ideal – to something finer, richer, than the Hellenic ideal, it may be. But the bravest man amongst us is afraid of himself. The mutilation of the savage has its tragic survival in the self-denial that mars out lives. We are punished for our refusals. Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind, and poisons us. The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification. Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret. The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself, with the desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful. It has been said that the great events of the world take place in the brain. It is in the brain, and the brain only, that the great sins of the world take place also.

Dorian Gray listened, open-eyed and wondering. The spray of lilac fell from his hand upon the gravel. A furry bee came and buzzed round it for a moment. Then it began to scramble all over the oval stellated globe of the tiny blossoms. He watched it with that strange interest in trivial things that we try to develop when things of high import make us afraid, or when we are stirred by some new emotion for which we cannot find expression, or when some thought that terrifies us lays sudden siege to the brain and calls on us to yield. After a time the bee flew away. He saw it creeping into the stained trumpet of a Tyrian convolvulus. The flower seemed to quiver, and then swayed gently to and fro.

Perhaps, somewhere, some day, at a less miserable time, we may see each other again.

A book has heft and weight. Chapters that divide the material into topics. There is a beginning and an end. But electronic information lies in a strange and complex new world without boundaries. To make it accessible not simply for the acquisition of data but also to help people think better, we must invent new metaphors and models. Something less linear than the Information Highway. Consider instead an Information Landscape, a space that allows you to peruse information by navigating in and out and then to investigate specific portions in both two and three dimensions. Professor Muriel Cooper and students of the Visible Language Workshop propose an interactive and dynamic universe of worlds with landscapes of typographic spatial and symbolic information. The user moves through this galaxy, browsing the generalities or exploring the detail of complex ideas and relationships.

The work you do while you procrastinate is probably the work you should be doing for the rest of your life.

A Processing program is called a sketch. This is more than a change in nomenclature, it’s a different approach to coding. The more traditional method is to resolve the entire plan for the software before the first line of code is written. This approach can work well for well-defined domains, but when the goal is exploration and invention, it prematurely cuts off possible outcomes. Through sketching with code, unexpected paths are discovered and followed. Unique outcomes often emerge through the process.

Early versions of Processing exported sketches to Java Applets and at the time, that was an easy and convenient way to share work through the web. By default, exported sketches included a link to their source code and the web page included the text “Built with Processing.” This phrase was a simple search term to explore work created by others and the source code included on the page was a way to learn how that sketch was created. Users could remove the links to the source code, but we wanted sharing to be the default. We learned coding in large part by looking at others’ code, and wanted this openness to be central to the project.

But for as much trouble as the preprocessor and language component of Processing is for us to develop (or as irrelevant it might seem to programmers who already code in Java), we’re still not willing to give that up—damned if we’re gonna make students learn how to write a method declaration and “public class Blah extends PApplet” before they can get something to show up on the screen.

I think the question is a bit like the general obsession of people trying to define Apple as a hardware or software company. They don’t do either—they do both. They’re one of the few to figure out that the distinction actually gets in the way of delivering good products.

Muriel Cooper's "Interests and goals", 1974:

Concerned with use of mass production and its constraints and with extending experimental and educational experience into work relationships, reducing artificial human split. The significance of participatory and non-authoritarian communication forms in relation to specialization and professionalism. Structured/unstructured relationships in learning. Direct, responsive means of reproduction.

親切さと心はまたべつのものだ。親切さというのは独立した機能だ。もっと正確に言えば表層的な機能だ。それはただの習慣であって、心とは違う。心というのはもっと深く、もっと強いものだ。そしてもっと矛盾したものだ。

Photography implies that we know about the world if we accept it as the camera records it. But this is the opposite of understanding, which starts from not accepting the world as it looks. All possibility of understanding is rooted in the ability to say no. Strictly speaking, one never understands anything trom a photograph. Of course, photographs fill in blanks in our mental pictures of the present and the past: for example, Jacob Riis's images of New York squalor in the 1880s are sharply instructive to those unaware that urban poverty in late-nineteenth-century America was really that Dickensian. Nevertheless, the camera’s rendering of reality must always hide more than it discloses. As Brecht points out, a photograph of the Krupp works reveals virtually nothing about that organization. In contrast to the amorous relation, which is based on how something looks, understanding is based on how it functions. And functioning takes place in time, and must be explained in time. Only that which narrates can make us understand.

The particular qualities and intentions of photographs tend to be swallowed up in the generalized pathos of time past. Aesthetic distance seems built into the very experience of looking at photographs, if not right away, then certainly with the passage of time. Time eventually positions most photographs, even the most amateurish, at the level of art.

But I believe there comes a point in love, once and no more, which later on the soul seeks—yes, seeks in vain—to surpass; I believe that happiness wears out in the effort made to recapture it; that nothing is more fatal to happiness than the remembrance of happiness.

p53.

There is, in a sense, no such thing as boredom. Boredom is only another name for a certain species of frustration. And the new languages which the interesting art of our time speaks are frustrating to the sensibilities of most educated people.

Physiologically, man in the normal use of technology (or his various extended body) is perpetually modified by it and in turn finds ever new ways of modifying his technology. Man becomes, as it were, the sex organs of the machine world, as the bee of the plant world, enabling it to fecundate and to evolve ever new forms. The machine world reciprocates man’s love by expediting his wishes and desires, namely, in providing him with wealth.

从清晨六点起

连续学习到傍晚

发觉我的左手

怜悯地握了握右手

.

黄昏时分

由于无聊

我三次走进浴室

洗洗这个洗洗那个

.

生在任何时代

我都是痛苦的

所以不要怪时代

也不要怪我

Take, for example, the idea of a "rough circle." If I ask you to point to things which are rough circles, you can do it easily. But if I ask you to define precisely, what we mean by a rough circle, it turns out to be very hard to do. The strict mathematical definition of a circle (points exactly equidistant from a pointer center), is much too narrow. None of the rough circles in nature follow this rule exactly. On the other hand a looser definition (points between nine and ten inches from some given point, for instance), is much too loose. It would include, for instance, a weird zigzagging structure, in which no two points of the "circumference" are near each other. yet even a rough circle has some kind of continuity along its rircumference.

https://book.douban.com/annotation/54043724/

In early times the city itself was intended as an image of the universe — its form a guarantee of the connection between the heavens and the earth, a picture of a whole and coherent way of life.

A living pattern language is even more. It shows each person his connection to the world in terms so powerful that he can re-affirm it daily by using it to create new life in all the places round about him.

And in this sense, finally, as we shall see, the living language is a gate.

SNoW.

- 7/14/58

- 1/11/60

I have just now come from a party where I was its life and soul; witticisms streamed from my lips, everyone laughed and admired me, but I went away — yes, the dash should be as long as the radius of the earth's orbit ——————————— and wanted to shoot myself.

— Kierkegaard

Der Mensch kann nicht leben ohne ein dauerndes Vertrauen zu etwas Unzerstörbarem in sich, wobei sowohl das Unzerstörbare als auch das Vertrauen ihm dauernd verborgen bleiben können. Eine der Ausdrucksmöglichkeiten dieses Verborgen-Bleibens ist der Glaube an einen persönlichen Gott.

— Kafka

Si j'avais à écrire ici un livre de morale, il aurait cent pages et 99 seraient blanches. Sur la dernière j'écrirais: "Je ne connais qu'un seul devoir, et c'est celui d'aimer."

— Camus

- 1/6/58

- 12/13/49

- 11/4/57

希望能在2018开始试图抓住对日本的这种 sensibility 吧。

But the only way to reform modern lettering is to abolish it, and as we stand at the end of such a legacy, the most we could & should do is to uphold it.

想起 Tschichold 说到的「True book design is a matter of Takt alone」.

在作为 functional 以上，放弃所谓 form 和 function 的谁先谁后，还有一种以 medium 的方式的存在。于是 lettering 本身比起 sound 更加像 air 一样的存在。

原来能做到的仅仅是 book design，但现在可以从更加根本的层面去 design the flow of information.

大概喜欢 typography 的点就在这里。The intentionality behind the scribbles that goes through the system. The staves to music. The film to vision. The railroad to information.

不过最近从视觉读到的已经太多啦。是不是应该闲下来听听有声书呢。

What I read about, though, is an attempt to juxtapose the stroke against the grid, a (re)-discovery of the humane element of a system that later made its way into modernism.