Dear Log,
«"The profession of design," sniffed April Logan, "having once lost its aspiration to construct a better world, must by necessity decay into a work-for-hire varnish for barbarism." April Logan's noble, aquiline head, with its single careful forelock of white hair, began, subtly at first and then with greater insistence, to stretch. Rather like taffy.I'm not so much worried about deep conceptual stress as about the machines just fucking not working.
"The density of information embodied in the modern technological object creates deep conceptual stress that implodes the human-object interface.... Small wonder that a violent reactive Luddism has become the definitive vogue of the period, as primates, outsmarted by their own environment, lash out in frenzy at a postnatural world."
The critic's head was morphing like a barber pole on the slender pillar of her tanned and elegant neck.
"The same technology that makes our design tools more complex, vastly increases the number of options in determining how any designed object may appear and function. If there are no working parts visible to the naked eye, then techne itself becomes liquid and amorphous. It took the collapse of the American republic to finally end the long, poisonous vogue for channel switching and ironic juxtaposition...."»--Bruce Sterling, Heavy Weather
