Jo Dodd

Ever since I got into type design I’ve been beating women off with a stick. Any mention of kerning or Unicode encoding drives women into a libidinous frenzy. So every day it is relentless. Tits and arse, tits and arse. Quite frankly I am exhausted. I’m thinking of giving up type design because I just want a quiet life and I’m not sure how much longer I can handle all the sex.

Via Kottke, the corner of Rue d’Alexandrie and Rue Sainte-Foy in 1914 and today. I’m trying not to be reflexively negative about the direction street signage has taken. This is just a single, glaring, painful datapoint. 

Here is the sketch I made (and left) by Wilde’s tomb today. The fairly recent addition of the ugly plastic barrier had, as I suspected, become a hideous bathroom wall of graffiti, smiley faces, and misquoted phrases. It obscures the “outcast men” quote on the back almost completely. In addition, I hadn’t anticipated the metal gate, or the uprooted tree that seemed to make his grave into an unsightly construction zone. It was very sad to see a lovely memorialization— this place of love and remembrance, where I had once felt inspired and connected to art and history and poetry, reduced in such a way. Sad. But even while I sat to draw among clicking tourists and graffitiing teenagers, other people came to smoke pensive cigarettes by the grave, leaving one or the remaining pack for Oscar, or leaned over the metal barrier to blow kisses towards the angel’s face.

Damon Krukowski of Galaxie 500/Damon & Naomi breaks down just how little bands earn from streaming services— and details what the music business’ headlong quest for capital means for artists today— in our new feature, “Making Cents”. (via pitchfork)