Eight weeks means two months already. As Gandhi probably said one day while farting, fuck maths.

△Three things that stood out to me

Seven hundred years of the body
Like Life: Sculpture, Color, and the Body, at the Met Breuer, is a mind-blowing exhibition. Integrating color into the chaste European monochrome seems as provocative as the refusal of color to me now. I never thought of body sculpture that way before.

“Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination”

The Met shows the Vatican’s holy garments in NYC. Far from the poor man’s bible, the Catholic Church is celebrated with haute couture, being a mix of visual splendor and dramatic mise-en-scène. One question popped in my mind. Majestic, everything is. But how come there is almost no men’s wear? The Catholic imagination is either an ironic statement of gender or a serious faux pas.

No matter where you go, shit happens
New York or not, in advertising and design, you’d better have thick skin to work in the industry. There are as many amazing people as assholes—everywhere. It can be hard to swallow shit. I swallowed oh-so-much shit this past week. Not yummy. Right thing to do when it happens? Taking a break. And by a break, I mean count to three. 1, 2, 3. Then, fuck it! Laugh at yourself, and keep going.

☐ 1 thing that made sense to me

I have to start somewhere
I’m so in love with typography that I almost sacralize it. Paying respect to every curve and appreciating complexity is important to me. But I have to fail. I need to start somewhere, after all. Attending Wael Morcos’ talk, at the Herb Lubalin Center of Design, made me realize what that somewhere was. And that somewhere is designing an Arabic typeface. Not only I have a huge heritage, but we only have a few existing Arabic typefaces. So. Challenge accepted people! Actually started this morning at 5 a.m. Yes, I’m insane. Nothing new.

○ 1 Question

How, on earth, is this already week 8?
I wish there were more hours in a day and more days in a week to do everything I want to do. I honestly don’t understand how time works, but that motherfucker needs to slow down a bit. Talking about time, I’ll leave you with these 1975 Time covers.