I have a new form of excercise these days. Daughter Tilja stretches her arms up to me, saying, “On the shoulders, Pappa!”, I turn on the stereo so we can here Feist sing “1234″ and we start dancing around the apartment, ducking door frames and ceiling lights. Usually Tilja sings so loud we can’t hear the stereo anymore – then she orders me to run and spin. This can go on for quite a while:)

In celebration of that – here’s Steve Zissou, with a kid on his shoulders. One for the toque-wearers. Half way through, it turns into “one for the uniforms”;)

Tilja and I caught this animated series on SVT this morning – both of us stopped playing and were mesmerized by the music, figures, and that crazy movement of Pulpo (the red figure).

Nice stuff! Looks like Finland meets Barcelona=)

Stor Fisk made them, Veronica Lassenius drew the pictures.

Saari TV

When Tilja was born, we received a gift of a painting of the Northern Lights by my Grandmother, Phoebe-Anne Magee*, from my Aunt Margot and Uncle Lee. Compact in size, and simple, yet colourful in subject – we fell for it straight away, and felt we should get it properly framed at some time. Actually, I thought I would make a frame myself.

During our trip to Canada this summer, my Grandmaman, Marie Séguin, gave us a gift of a painting by my Grandad, Harvey Séguin**. This was also compact in size, and simple yet colourful in subject. It was also of the Northern Lights.

Turns out they are exactly the same size.

So, now, as we had the trio of paintings in the bedroom framed, we had these two grandparent paintings framed as well – and hung them together above TIlja’s bed. It’s a good place for them. You see them as you enter the apartment, and it’s one of the last things we see before we all sleep.

*Granny still produces a steady flow of paintings from her little studio set up in her house in St.Andrew’s, New Brunswick

**Grandad died a few years ago, but had enthusiatically picked up a brush during retirement, and produced quite the body of work in his own home studio in Hudson Heights, Québec.

three oldies finally get professional help – being framed at a local framemaker’s.

This first one has a brown tint to the black frame, with an accent of red on the very edge. It brings out the browns and pinks quite well.

This has a white/blue grey sort of feel – bringing out the cold blue in the picture.

The last one has a darker frame – near black, also with a red edge, to bring ot the black and pinks.

The funny thing is we went in there thinking we’d get all threee framed exactly the same – in simple profiled oak. As we talked with the framester, we came to realise we could just as well do each painting justice and frame them individually, and have them still belong to the same “family”.

It was unexpected, and exciting feeling this world open up to us. Suddenly I felt a little grown-up, that maybe we had graduated from the IKEA frame section, to the world of custom framing. Suddenly I understood why folks who actually collect art have different frames for each piece. It wasn’t because the frames just came with the paintings when they were purchased – they belonged with them.

Interesting.

Now I don’t cringe seeing the unframed paintings on the wall. The look finished. I can keep my hands off them, and stop thinking what I could have done differently. Now – it’s too late.

Nice.

Funny:)

I came across “The Making of The Dunhill Double Document Case” this morning, on Selecticism, and was immediately struck by the tactile nature of this production. The sounds, in particular, are very good.

I know leather work is tactile, and cozy. My father’s friend, Flemming, still pounds out leather bags and belts – as far as I know. I remember getting one of his belts as a kid, and being happily struck by the smells in his cool, woody shop. They stayed in the belt. Decades later, while handing it down to my son, it still smelled like that first summer I had with it.

Watching this makes me want to pick up a similiar trade. Something tactile. Something where I’d need a workshop to do it. Something I could do that wouldn’t sound like “tappity-tap-tap-tap”, and more like “glonk, swish and woosh”.

That might not be why Dunhill made the film. I’m sure they want me to buy the bag, rather than yearn for my own workshop.

You win some, and you lose some=)

I ran across this stylish (and old) animated video on treehugger this morning – a cheeky Lloyd Alter post, “Secret Video of Government Highway Spending Plans Hacked and Exposed”

Not only is the film very good looking, the ideas in it are just as exciting as the pictures. Some are way out there, some downright ridiculous, and others strangely optimistic about using new technologies (the gas-turbine car, the speedier jet propulsed vehicle, the inexhaustable atom, and the sun-powered electro suspension car(!)), fantastical modern architecture, and conveniences such as video conferencing in a auto-piloted mobility pod, or highly specialized pleasure vehicles (furnished with lounge and fireplace, and which can also travel on water as a hydrofoil) directed by punch cards to a holiday destinations, moving sidewalks, door to door assisted parking… it goes on and on… “heated highways”- that’s a good one.

It looks as if it was made in the 50’s- maybe 60’s? Full of optimism and confidence in our ability to carve out a brave new world for ourselves, it nonetheless leaves a bitter taste in my mouth – we didn’t do anything this film says we would. A lot of that is good. Who needs heated highways?
Well… we did get the moving sidewalk. But the rest?

We still do the same crap we did at the time the film was made. Only – we do it poorly. Cars are starting to become “intelligent”, helping you park, talk on a phone, not fall asleep at the wheel, all while cradling you in a livingroom environment filled with music, tv, video games and food. No room for luggage though, because you aren’t travelling anywhere, merely driving around. Alternative energies are coming to the table again (after 50 years?)
- but instead of being met with wide eyed optimism, they are met with snail paced skepticism? What is wrong with us?

The filmmakers obviously assumed the modern person would stay in good shape eventhough they wouldn’t have to stand on two feet, walk or move themselves anymore.

But – it looks so good. So sleek and clean and streamlined. Just hearing the soundtrack reminds me of good times. Carefree. Nice. Like being a kid again.

What’s not to like?

Seems I post a lot of video and twits these days – but here’s one more, an important one, because it makes me appreciate the decade and a half I have lived in Copenhagen, just when it’s starting to get dark and gloomy around here. Copenhagen is a great place to bring up kids, feel cozy and enjoy life. It is easy in Copenhagen.

I could complain, as any other Copenhagener, about a bevy of topics and inconveniences; but, also like a Copenhagener finding himself in the first spring sunshine, I can choose to be blissfully unaware of those while watching a summing up of the good points about the city that feels like a town.

Nice, too, that it comes to my attention just before COP15, and just while I am hearing how difficult the meeting might end up being, coming to an agreement about how to battle climate change in real conserted effort.
At the very least it will put Copenhagen on the map.

Here are a few tips if you visit Copenhagen:
Bring a fashionable scarf, waterproof jacket and shoes – the Danes like to dress, and stay dry.
Copenhagen is pronounced, “Copen-hay-gen” with a hard “a”. Not, “Copen-HAh-gen”.
You can walk everywhere. If you can’t walk, you can bike, if you can’t bike, you can take a bus, metro or train.
When shopping, you probably won’t find everything you need in one shop – just walk to the next one.
Copenhageners like coffee. Real coffee.
Copenhageners like Beer. Real Beer.
Copenhageners like Wine. Real Wine.
Copenhagener like to drink. Really drink.
Copenhageners like to joke. It might be at your expense, don’t take it too personally.
Smile at them, they will almost certainly smile back.
Service usually is lacking, but not at Bibendum – a very good winebar + tapas joint (maybe all the Props joints, really). Cozy in winter.

(via Copenhagenize)

It’s nearing the end of my workload, and as I anticipate it, and our family trek to Canada, I am enjoying the Monocle Summer Series.
Just in time for the weekend, and filled with sunshine and laughter – these podcasts get me in the mood, and help turn the dial in my brain from “grey winter – wet spring” to “sun-splashed sweaty summer”. It’s hard to do it on your own when you are stuck inside.

Fittingly, the Monocle site has pages filled with illustrations by Satoshi Hashimoto to accent that summery feeling. Lovely, as usual.

Edition 1 featured Swedish Quiet Nights Orchestra. It’s a perfect start.

I caught a flight from Copenhagen to Stockholm recently. Dead cheap, much cheaper and a bit shorter than the train these days. It went pretty smoothly- Kevin drove me to the train station, I took it to the Metro, and then walked off the platform at the airport, checked myself in at a kiosk, walked up some stairs I had never noticed before and ended up at the head of the line to get into the security check area.

Last time through security in Copenhagen, I had a left a blade in my ancient safety razor, so I made sure to travel bladeless this time and bought some replacements (to keep in the office in Copenhagen), and emptied the shaver before returning to Stockholm. The razor was not a problem this time. It was the fluids.

Apparently you can only have 100ml bottles of anything in your carry-on. What creams and aftershave or whatnot you have must fit into a baggie. Fine enough. But then I spied this sign while I stood in line- “No containers larger than 100ml”.

I didn’t really pay attention to it, but had a bad feeling I might have to ditch my SIGG bottle (empty). I wasn’t looking forward to that. I got through the detector, and was pulled aside. The usual check of my toiletries, some liguids got placed in a baggie, then the lady pulled out my shaving cream and hair gel. 125ml each. Hmm..

Me: “What if I squeeze out the cream into the baggie?”

Security Lady: “No, you can’t do that.”

“Well, you can see there isn’t even 100 ml IN the tubes- isn’t that alright? ”

“No. You can buy a box downstairs at the convenience store, put the tubes in it, and check it in with the rest of your luggage if you like, sir.”

(They said this about my single razor blade, last time, too.)

“This is all the luggage I have – I wanted to avoid the luggage drop off lines, you see. Am I suppossed to go down and check in that one little box?”

“Yes, you’ll have to check in all your luggage, we can’t check in such a small box on it’s own”

“So- I HAVE to buy a box to put my tubes in, put the box in my hand luggage, and check it all in?”

“Yes, sorry.”

“Well- I just whizzed passed a huge line by using that clever quick-check-in-kiosk, I’m on time, not sweaty, and now I can see my flight is boarding- so no, I don’t think I’ll go back and check in again, thanks. You can keep the tubes.”

“You can just jump ahead the of lines, say you’ve already checked in, you know?”

“No, thanks.”

I walked off grumbling and swearing under my breath.
She was a nice lady, though – I’ll give her that. But the situation perturbed me.

The weird part is – noone seemed to mind my 1 liter SIGG bottle, all bashed up RED and empty. 1 liter! I guess disposing of the gel and shaving cream made my potentially dangerous (larger than 100ml) vessel utterly harmless?

First time I spent any decent amount of cash on shaving cream – it was good stuff – but now it’s down the tubes.