Leo T. reviewed Design Your Life: The Pleasures and Perils of Everyday Things on + 1775 more book reviews
I ordered this among several add-ons Ms. Madden of Windsor for the bookshelf at the old soldiers' home and it is a winner. While I am only reading it today on the bus before sending it, I am sure it will cheer someone up. The Madames Lupton have a bright, shining writing style and the paintings (by Ellen who also has chops in typefaces) that illustrate their book are succinct. The authors wish to foster creative and critical thinking in one's consideration of design.
There are five chapters that begin with placing the furniture in your living room and bedrooms and end with 'Why No One Wants to Read Your Blog.' The authors bid readers to "Find out what's wrong with the bras, pillows, potted plants, festive cookware, and other hopeless stuff you use, buy, clean water, or put away each day. Discover how to control the actions of those around you by placing objects carefully. Learn why the living room refuses to disappear and how the arrangement of furniture, hospital rooms, and your own house might be making you miserable. Unlock the power of putting off until tomorrow what you could do today. Find out how one-eyed Siamese bunnies are rebuilding civilization, and how roller bags are threatening to destroy it. Use the tolls of self-publishing to take the power of branding into your own hands and communicate with friends, family and the world."
They have done their homework. In Boyle Heights most blocks still have a few houses with Victorian front porches which I wrongly assumed were in case of flood. "Steps create distance between the house and sidewalk and elevate the seated homeowner, nurturing a feeling of security." When discussing kitchens, they mention the H326 Honeywell [this might actually have been a Neiman-Marcus leader that never actually sold for $10,000] and the Netpliance iOpener [these were sold for a few months for publicity at $99 but cost $400 to manufacture], both failures in the marketplace (and this is the first I have heard of them).
The simple paintings readily demonstrate why one doesn't want a large painting looming over a small side table, a small painting over a sofa, or a stair-step pattern of paintings except alongside actual stairs.
Further reading suggestions, index.
There are five chapters that begin with placing the furniture in your living room and bedrooms and end with 'Why No One Wants to Read Your Blog.' The authors bid readers to "Find out what's wrong with the bras, pillows, potted plants, festive cookware, and other hopeless stuff you use, buy, clean water, or put away each day. Discover how to control the actions of those around you by placing objects carefully. Learn why the living room refuses to disappear and how the arrangement of furniture, hospital rooms, and your own house might be making you miserable. Unlock the power of putting off until tomorrow what you could do today. Find out how one-eyed Siamese bunnies are rebuilding civilization, and how roller bags are threatening to destroy it. Use the tolls of self-publishing to take the power of branding into your own hands and communicate with friends, family and the world."
They have done their homework. In Boyle Heights most blocks still have a few houses with Victorian front porches which I wrongly assumed were in case of flood. "Steps create distance between the house and sidewalk and elevate the seated homeowner, nurturing a feeling of security." When discussing kitchens, they mention the H326 Honeywell [this might actually have been a Neiman-Marcus leader that never actually sold for $10,000] and the Netpliance iOpener [these were sold for a few months for publicity at $99 but cost $400 to manufacture], both failures in the marketplace (and this is the first I have heard of them).
The simple paintings readily demonstrate why one doesn't want a large painting looming over a small side table, a small painting over a sofa, or a stair-step pattern of paintings except alongside actual stairs.
Further reading suggestions, index.
