Barcode Plantage transforms a simple product bar code into a unique tree in the garden of globalization.
Once a bar code is keyed or scanned in, the program sends a request to a product database, which returns master file data. This master file data is then analyzed to define positions, curves and colors of Bezier curves of the tree structure.
The number of these curves will vary correspondence to the number of figures in the code. Simultaneously, the user will hear a melody, which is based on the figures of the bar code.
To complete the visualized information details of the country of origin, manufacturer, product number and sum - each on a single black bar connected by fine lines – are displayed. Since all data is being interpreted by an algorithm that works completely without any random aspect each product is represented by a characteristic and singular tree.
This is the second of five blog posts about organization and how I got some, against all expectations. They started life as an attempt to get my thoughts in order for a session on efficiency in bookselling that I’m presenting next week and got out of hand. I assure you nobody is more surprised than I am that I’m hosting a session about organization, but these posts explain how that happened. I think. (Though the session is specifically about efficiency and bookselling, these posts address efficiency and organization more broadly. I’ll post notes from the session later in the month.) The first post is here.
I wrote everything down.
That’s basically all I did.
There’s a lot more to the Getting Things Done method than that, most of it very helpful, but this was at the core of it all, for me. I wrote things down when I thought about them, and then when I realized I’d forgotten to do something, I took it as a reminder that I wasn’t writing everything down. Sometimes I sat down and tried to think of everything I had to do and had ever wanted to do, and wrote it all down. Unless it was something I could literally do at the second I thought of it, I wrote it down. Sometimes I wrote it down on scrap paper, sometimes I sent myself an email. Eventually I came to use Remember The Milk for everything. David Allen calls this “capturing,” and if you’ve ever felt like your brain is full of birds that would like to kill you, you will understand why.
Picture me rollin’. They hatin’.
I’m both reveling and invigorated post a powerful evening with Kala Ganesh, Kimerle Williams Crenshaw, Traci C. West, and Beth Ribet at the Open Form on “DSKand Justice: The Politics of Getting Off In A Rape Culture.” This Free Open Forum, which was held on October 13, 2011 at Columbia Law…
web sites for museum photography exhibits
Kate Steinitz, Backstroke, 1930
One of my favorite photographs from the Moma’s excellent “Pictures by Women: A History of Modern Photography” exhibit (ends next week!) was by Kate Steinitz, an artist I had never heard of before. There’s a short bio here, but there’s no good image of this photograph online. The only thing I found was shot by a MOMA visitor named Craig and shared on Flickr.
With billions of photos online, it’s surprising how many great ones still exist only in the real world, with no proper representation online. This photograph is a masterpiece, it feels so much like what Roni Horn is doing, but in the 1930s. It was shot with large format, the print offers a lot of texture and detail; the visitor snapshot doesn’t do it justice.
The best web site recently for a photography exhibit was last year’s Henri Cartier-Bresson: The Modern Century. This was as blockbuster as photography exhibits get, and not every exhibit has the budget for a custom site.
But there are elements of the HCB site that can be followed:
- All the photographs from the exhibit are on the site
- Presentation of content is in standard HTML and jpegs
- Photographs are large jpegs that look good on a big monitor
- Photographs are presented in similar order to the original exhibit, with relevant information about each
- Flash was only used for audio clips
It should be easy for visitors to track down information about a favorite photograph they saw in an exhibit. If they want to email this photograph to a few friends, encouraging them to see the exhibit, they should be able to with standard URLs. This is one of several reasons Flash is such an awful choice for the presentation of photographs. So many photographs are locked away in Flash files, rarely seen today because people don’t wait for the gallery to load, and worthless tomorrow, as this content is not compatible with most mobile and tablet devices.
Museums should keep in mind: methods to “protect” content generally only stop the people that want to promote it.
Oscar Grant’s photograph of Johannes Mehserle
Oscar Grant’s photograph of transit police officer Johannes Mehserle is rare: a portrait of the photographer’s killer. Unlike the recent photograph that a politician captured in the Philippines, Grant’s photograph, taken moments before Mehserle shot him in the back, was intentional.
Much of the media attention given to the Oscar Grant case focused on a handful of videos made by other passengers on the BART train, some of which show Grant being shot. While being detained by BART police, Grant called his ex-girlfriend Sophina Mesa twice from the platform. During this time he also took the photo of Mehserle and sent it to Mesa. Grant’s photograph of Mehserle did not get as much coverage as the videos, as it wasn’t released until the trial began.
Grant’s photograph raises an important issue that faces every American: the right to photograph, videotape and document while being detained or arrested by the police. Many of us assume we have this right, but with existing wiretapping laws, you can still be arrested and your camera confiscated. Radley Balko’s Reason.com article “The War on Cameras” is essential reading on this subject.
Demian Bulwa is a reporter and editor for the San Francisco Chronicle, who has covered the Oscar Grant case since the shooting, through the entire Mehserle trial. I asked him a few questions over the phone about this photograph.
How did the prosecution and defense use this photograph as evidence in the trial?
Both sides used flat screen TVs, multimedia, everything was timed and choreographed. It seemed they felt they might lose credibility if they weren’t sharp with multimedia. At times the arguments felt like PowerPoint presentations. There were photos, quotes, videos, video of the Taser training.
It was used by prosecution to show two things: 1. that he [Mehserle] knew his Taser from his gun, that he had actually taken out his Taser twice, that he knew full well between the two weapons. 2. That Oscar was being abused and was concerned about it.
It was one of many pieces of evidence. It’s part of the puzzle, and hard to tell which ones stuck with the jury.
What facts were presented about the photograph, when it was taken? Did he take it while face down, turning around?
Grant was sitting on the ground. The guys were sitting on the edge of the platform for a while. He wouldn’t have had the opportunity in the last moments, the officers were on top of him, with his arms behind him.
Was there any suggestion by either side that taking this photograph provoked Mehserle, or was some form of resisting arrest?
I don’t recall.
Based on the evidence in the trial, and your own speculation, why do you think Oscar Grant took this photograph?
Most likely he was documenting unfair treatment. He said something to his girlfriend [during the phone call], like “I’m getting beat up here.” It was a way of documenting that, and putting Mehserle on notice. If you take a picture of someone you are saying: I’m watching your behavior. You’re accountable. You are expressing your concern and putting them on notice.
There have been numerous primarily Black feminist critiques of both the book and the film ‘The Help’. Most of the critiques deeply resonate with my feelings about both entities. Since it’s official release on August 10, 2011, I’ve dedicated probably too much…
Let’s do a quick taste test. Identify, if you please, the author of the following passage:
“It was by no means the worst of all possible pubs, the carpets not much damper than bathmats, the tureens of the ashtrays not yet brimming over, the clientele not audibly planning your murder… As I was ordering, I felt a waft of yeast on my cheek and a tap on my shoulder, and even before I turned I felt the arrival of violence (violence at my expense).”
Even if the particular sentences aren’t familiar—the novel it’s taken from was only released last month, after all—the identifying marks are all there. There’s the spiky wit. The carefully measured rhythms and repetitions. And the expansive vocabulary, paired with an almost comically whole-hearted embrace of the skuzziest corners of English pub culture.
In fact, maybe it’s way too obvious: the owner of these words is Martin Amis.