The folks at The Baffler are intensely smart, bitingly funny, and they happen to put out a magazine every so often. The primary targets of their impressive vocabularies are "business culture and the culture business," and while a full-service online version wouldn't be their style, the Bafflers do offer a simple site chock-full of subversive goodies. Check out Thomas Frank's sketch of the man who built the first modern suburb, or Jim Frederick's first-hand experience in the economics of internships. Plus, you'll find subscription information, briefs on recently published work by Baffler contributors, and even a delicious series of fake letters unleashed on unwitting business publications. Step up and prepare to be baffled. Thoroughly.
Three Cal State Hayward students have created this beautifully designed site devoted to the Mexican Day of the Dead. According to the introduction, "Mexicans believe that the veil between the lands of the living and the dead are lifted for a short time each Autumn. The souls of those who died make a long journey home during the Days of the Dead. They are allowed to visit the earth they once knew in the flesh and to commune with their families once more." Explore the roots of the celebration, learn about common Dia De Los Muertos practices, and investigate parallel ceremonies in other cultures. Hint: click on the skull to go home.
What do you get when you cross an extra-tropical cyclone with a wicked Atlantic hurricane named Grace? The answer -- you guessed it -- a "perfect storm." (And, if you're a fisherman from Gloucester, Mass., trust us, "perfect" is a relative term.) You also get a book, The Perfect Storm by Sebastian Junger, and a movie of the same name starring George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg. Finally, you get this terrific web site from the folks at discovery.com. It's a behind-the-scenes look at the "biggest storm of the century," which hit the North Atlantic in October 1991. Stop by for a Flash-enabled look at the tragedy, and hear stories from the people who were there. Chilling.
This web site's creators tell us they are not Satan worshippers, anti-God, or lacking in faith. They just think that America's dogma should be questioned, and they bring up some thought-provoking facts. For instance, Louisiana has the highest churchgoing rate in the country, but its murder rate is more than twice the national average. Apparently, God-fearing doesn't necessarily mean law-abiding. Don't miss the Things to Ponder section -- they challenge the idea of posting the ten commandments in school, as well as ask the question, "Who really wants to go to heaven?"
"Sketchbooks are as varied as the artists who keep them." So begins this wonderful web site, a look at some of the sketchbooks collected in the Archives of American Art. "Urban-scene painter Reginald Marsh cut and bound scraps of paper to fit the size of his coat pocket. Avant-garde advocate John Graham snatched moments from a busy career to doodle in a leather-bound diary. Albert Kahn copied architectural details and patterns for future projects, and Oscar Bluemner kept painting diaries with copious notes on his color theories."
Build it and they will read, or so goes the thinking at loud paper, a print zine "dedicated to increasing the volume of architectural discourse." Scoop up a copy at your local architecture bookstore or check the online version, where you'll find a growing collection of articles on everything from bug carcasses to surveillance equipment. If you're curious about how bug carcasses and surveillance equipment (and Andre the Giant and punk-rock posters) relate to architecture, then loud paper won't disappoint.
The concept is simple -- readers submit haikus inspired by specific Frida Kahlo paintings. Each painting is then presented along with its corresponding haiku. The results are probably the closest we will ever come to answering the age-old question, "What was Frida thinking?" One steely-eyed portrait confronts its viewers, "I don't believe you / I will not look behind me / There is no monkey." Another especially surreal portrait with Diego Riviera-as-child pleads, "Baby Diego / Big and stinky like a man / I am freaking out." Guess you had to see the picture.
The OOK's view on pop culture is simple: it's neither good nor bad, but rather it's open to each person's subjective, personal viewpoint. The subject doesn't matter -- it could be anything, just as long as people are exposed to it. We perused a gallery of magazine covers at the Newstand, listened to recordings at the OOK Jook, and read an completely absorbing article on the ABC's Friday night line-up of the early '70s. The folks at OOK are just trying to fill in the cracks by writing about things they dig. Admirable, don't you think?