21006123's blog

Draft 1

The project that I chose to copy is by an artist whose only known information is his Instagram username, @muddycap, and he is based in Seoul. He creates chairs made from food, toys, and everyday household items that we see, whether through AI or 3D modelling, which is unknown.

Initial thought: “Is Blender challenging for designers with no prior knowledge of 3D modelling?”

After watching tutorials I thought, “this was manageable to follow.” It is similar to using an Adobe program-not similar in its functions and purpose, but similar in that it is a software with many powerful tools that I need to make mistakes with and learn from to realise my vision. When building the chair, I felt that its process was similar to painting and drawing, where an understanding of form, colour, light and shadow, and proportion is crucial to creating a realistic-looking model. Then my thought changed: “Is Blender accessible for people with no prior knowledge of design, or painting and drawing, or art in general?”

A later thought occurred to me that all I had been thinking about was how do I build…

My proposal is to explore the questions: “Is Blender accessible for people with no knowledge of art?” and “Can you de-build (unbuild, deconstruct, take apart) using Blender?” Or is there a different way to build? If, in the design world, the purpose of Blender is to create photorealistic visuals or stylised art for games, film, architecture, and product design, what else can be created by those who do not wish to make the same? How can we, as graphic communication designers, utilise the tools that Blender provides us with in ways that stray beyond the conventional? Create something that resembles?

My approach in exploring these questions further would be to create using unconventional methods, such as: 

1. Start building from a cube combined with strictly using basic mesh shapes without manipulating them
2. Have the object be symmetrical
3. Use the wireframes instead of solidifying
4. Create from one side of the plane only
5. View an object from the Z plane, which would make the object appear as just a line, with the shadow from light revealing the object at XYZ plane

References

Muddycap (n.d.) Instagram profile. Available at: https://www.instagram.com/muddycap/

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Draft 2

When using Blender to create a copy of the Bagel Chair, I found the fundamental qualities of 3D modeling to be similar to painting and drawing, where an understanding of form, color, light, and shadow is essential to producing a realistic resemblance. This observation led to the following questions:

Is Blender accessible to people with no prior knowledge of art?
Can Blender be used to de-build, unbuild, or deconstruct objects rather than construct them?
If Blender is commonly used to create photorealistic visuals or stylized assets for games, film, architecture, and product design, what else can be created by those who do not wish to pursue those outcomes?
How can graphic communication designers use Blender’s tools in ways that move beyond conventional applications?

Through my iterative process of addressing these questions, I found that the most compelling inquiries emerged from the idea that a two-dimensional object comes to life through shadow rather than its volume or materials.

Rooted in the ideas of Adhocism, this project re-incorporates existing methods to form new ways of making. Light and shadow are basic elements that have a long history, dating back to prehistoric cave paintings, becoming central to this investigation. In Blender, an object cannot exist visually when rendered without light. The absence of it causes the model to collapse into black, despite being visible in the 3D viewport. Light produces contrast and cast shadows, allowing form to emerge. Hence, the object only comes to life conditionally through the presence of light and shadow.

By working with two-dimensional illustrations in a three-dimensional space and using light to alter how an object is perceived, I question ideas of degradation and transformation. Shadows, often understood as the absence of light, instead function as imprints of it. They record the form of the object obstructing the light and act as projections rather than voids. In this sense, I am printing with light.

As light passes through an object, information is selectively removed or emphasized. Through simplification, magnification, and alteration of the illustration, the object is continuously transformed. This raises the question of how much information can be removed before an image loses its identity, and whether such transformations render the original obsolete.

Blender becomes a tool to visualize this process of reduction, instead of building. It reveals what is essential to retain and what can be removed. By dissecting the object and reconstructing it through shadow, I explore the point at which a Volkswagen Beetle ceases to be recognizable as a Beetle and simply becomes a car. The work reflects on how digital processes degrade, abstract, and reshape our understanding of objects in the physical world.

I chose the Volkswagen Beetle because its design follows function and is stripped of excess, reflecting the principles of mechanical evolution central to Adhocism. The Beetle also transformed mobility into an emotional and human experience. I wanted to bring this humane quality into Blender, a tool that can often feel cold, distant, and difficult to approach.

To further explore these ideas, I aim to work with all parts of the car, taking them apart and experimenting with transparency, materiality, and light sources  to observe how changes in illumination affect perception and form.

References

Muddycap (n.d.) Instagram profile. Available at: https://www.instagram.com/muddycap/

Jencks, C. and Silver, N. (2013) Adhocism: The Case for Improvisation. 2nd edn. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press

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Draft 3

When using Blender to create a copy of the Bagel Chair, I found the fundamental qualities of 3D modeling to be similar to painting and drawing, where an understanding of form, color, light, and shadow is essential to producing a realistic resemblance. This observation led to the following questions:

Is Blender accessible to people with no prior knowledge of art?
Can Blender be used to de-build or deconstruct objects rather than construct them?
If Blender is commonly used to create photorealistic visuals or stylized assets for games, film, architecture, and product design, what else can be created by those who do not wish to pursue those outcomes?
How can graphic communication designers use Blender’s tools in ways that move beyond conventional applications?

In my first round of iterative processes of addressing these questions, I found that the most compelling inquiries emerged from the idea that a two-dimensional object comes to life through shadow rather than its volume or materials.

Rooted in the ideas of Adhocism, this project re-incorporates existing methods to form new ways of making. In Blender, an object cannot exist visually when rendered without light. The absence of it causes the model to collapse into black, despite being visible in the 3D viewport. Light produces contrast and cast shadows, allowing form to emerge. Hence, the object only comes to life conditionally through the presence of light and shadow.

By working with two-dimensional illustrations in a three-dimensional space and using light to alter how an object is perceived, I question ideas of degradation and transformation. Shadows, often understood as the absence of light, instead function as imprints of it. They record the form of the object obstructing the light and act as projections rather than voids.

As light passes through an object, information is selectively removed or emphasized. By simplifying, magnifying, and altering the illustration, the object is continuously transformed. This raises the question of how much information can be removed before an image loses its identity, and whether such transformations render the original obsolete.

Blender becomes a tool to visualize this process of reduction, instead of building. By dissecting the object, I explore the point at which a Volkswagen Beetle ceases to be recognizable as a Beetle and simply becomes a car. The work reflects on how digital processes degrade, abstract, and reshape our understanding of objects in the physical world.

I chose the Volkswagen Beetle because its design follows function and is stripped of excess.

From the second round of iterations, I answered my initial questions by constructing the car from 2D illustrations of everyday objects assembled in 3D space. These objects only become visible when motion is added. The process involved experiments with multiple layers, light angles, light types, and transparency. It produced optical illusions, graphic outcomes, and shifting perceptions that transformed the car into something new. 

This project demonstrates that Blender is accessible not only through prior artistic training, but through experimentation, perception, and inquiry. Blender can also function beyond its conventional role expected outcomes.

References

Muddycap (n.d.) Instagram profile. Available at: https://www.instagram.com/muddycap/

Jencks, C. and Silver, N. (2013) Adhocism: The Case for Improvisation. 2nd edn. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press

Throughout the three methods, I am constantly discovering new ways of researching. Some are more obvious, ones I have never tried before, and some are unique approaches I would never have thought of. All of these methods have pushed me to create projects that are conceptually stronger and have a meaningful connection to the existing material I’m working with, while also giving it new life. I’ve learned to pick apart what matters, what’s intriguing, and what I can translate into a visual language. There’s no one right approach or answer for a single project, only the approach that best suits the context. Although research matters, letting the project become what it is naturally is just as important as trying to mold it into something it isn’t just to make it portfolio-ready.

In Methods of Investigating, I’ve come to appreciate the beauty of observing the mundane and paying attention to even the most obvious details, exploring what can emerge from them without prejudice, stereotyping, or prior knowledge.

Through Methods of Cataloguing, I’ve learned to rearrange what I thought I knew and see it in a new light, creating a fresh context. There are patterns that exist; we just have to be able to see them, name them, and sort them.

From Methods of Translating, I learned to focus and dive deep into content, extracting the most important aspects to see it from a new perspective. Pulling ideas, reading, and experimenting with approaches from references is also immensely helpful in strengthening a piece.

I have created projects with each of these methods that I had never done before. They develop and encourage creative and critical thinking, which then influences the outcome, whether it is commercial, political, or both.

In the city of images, shaped by society, value is measured by clarity. The rich ones stand in their stillness, sharp, preserved, untouched by time or people. They hang in white halls and speak only to those who can afford to listen. The poor ones wander through networks, reassembled and ragged at the edges, drifting on invisible currents that leap over walls, slip through borders, and forget the hands that sent them.

The poor image tells the story of its journey. It rises above measures of value, not in defiance but in quiet certainty, proud of the ruins that have made it whole. It is degraded and disregarded, yet its pride lies in what remains. It carries the memory of its first light, the circuits it has crossed, and the countless eyes that have passed over it. Though it loses its clarity, it gains something greater: its truth.

The early life of an image hangs on the hands that release it and the eyes that allow it to endure, but it soon slips from direct control. Some travel freely, unbound and radiant; others falter, lost in the buzz of the network, swallowed by the invisible hierarchy that determines what may be seen and what must fade. Beneath their passage lies the machinery of access and privilege, always turning its silent gears, unceasing, as images rise and fade.

In this constant motion, the poor image floats through networks, shared and appropriated, yet always vulnerable to erasure and manipulation. It weaves connections across distant spaces, provoking translation and misreading, and forming new publics beyond the reach of any single hand or institution. Low-resolution, fragmented, and detached from any source, it bears significance not in likeness, but in its existence, in its life, and in its reality.

This is why poor images will prevail.


References:

Steyerl, H., 2012. The wretched of the screen. Berlin: Sternberg Press.

Calvino, I., 1974. Invisible Cities. Orlando: Harcourt Brace & Company.

An excerpt that I have chosen is from Diagrammatic Writing (Drucker, 2013, p. 24), the section titled “Surroundings and Other Moves of Domination and Subordination.”

By indexing alphabetically, I was able to break down the purpose, argument, and visual appearance of the text on a deeper level.

Control is evident in the choice of form and structure, where lines, spaces, and visual layout work to relay relationships of power and dependence.

Design is not confined to posters but can also be applied to text in articles or other kinds of writing to strengthen the message being shared.

Each decision in the composition subtly guides the reader’s attention, shaping both meaning and emotion.

For example:

Grammar is made easy to understand, adopting a conversational tone so the reader can follow the thread of thought despite the unconventional structure.

Hierarchy is established through type size and style, guiding the reader’s eye down the page.

Italics are used strictly for rhetorical questions, which help set the tone and establish expectations for where the text will lead.

Kerning between letters is balanced, which supports readability and maintains visual harmony.

Layout is crucial here, as it does more than organize words and also affects how the reader interprets the ideas.

My discoveries during this process of cataloguing have impacted the way I approach articles, personal projects, and research methods.

Navigating through the excerpt becomes an active process, as the structure and layout shape how meaning is discovered.

Observing this text goes beyond simply reading the words and also involves taking in all the design choices that were made purposefully.

Punctuation helps the reader follow the flow of ideas, making complex arguments easier to navigate.

Questions invite the reader to consider multiple perspectives.

Reading this excerpt highlights the relationship between text and design, showing how each element depends on the others to further implement meaning.

Sequencing of paragraphs and line breaks shapes how the reader experiences the argument.

This text fully transforms the passive act of reading into an active one and transcends conventional essay styles.

Understanding is guided by consistent visual cues.

Visual choice.

Word choice.

Xploration.

Yield insights.

Zoom in.

Reference

Drucker, J. (2013) Diagrammatic Writing: Technologies of the Text. New York: Routledge.

Prompt

The two readings from the course reading list that relate to my investigation are Species of Spaces and Other Places by Georges Perec and Graphesis by Johanna Drucker. My investigation focused on 35 Colonnade, an urban alley in London. Perec (1997) reflects on how we can decipher and analyze everyday spaces that we have deemed ‘common’, encouraging us to look beyond their obvious elements. Drucker (2014), who coined the term ‘visual epistemology’, argues that design is a powerful tool for interpretation and that designers actively shape how meaning is perceived. My work connects to Perec through his process of examination and to Drucker through her theme of design as interpretation guiding my visual decisions.

To ‘see almost stupidly’, (Perec, 1997), as Perec suggests, I spent time sitting at 35 Colonnade, observing the street, the people, and the birds. By repeatedly sketching, photographing, and writing about the most obvious and seemingly boring elements, I began to notice details I had missed before. This helped me strip away assumptions about the site and find meaning in what is usually overlooked. I was drawn to textures of the uneven bricks, worn cobblestones, and the alley’s narrow, serene atmosphere amidst the city’s bustle. By converting my images to black and white, it revealed textures as graphic forms. Using these Lego-like textures, I mapped 35 Colonnade, reducing a mundane place into a textured landscape.

My design received feedback requesting conclusions about the place, but clarity is not my primary goal. Instead, I aimed to capture the essence of what 35 Colonnade feels and looks like. The design is not functional in the traditional sense or meant to represent a definitive truth. It is open to interpretation, aligning with Drucker’s (2014) argument in Graphesis. I was not entirely sure what I discovered through this investigation. However, I was intentional in shaping viewers’ perspective by choosing what to show and what to omit. For example, I excluded street signs from the textures to focus attention on materiality. Using the textures allowed me to reimagine the space, conveying to viewers unfamiliar with the alley more about the buildings and atmosphere than written research might. I wanted to capture the London alley that tourists photograph, where birds fly, and workers take smoke breaks.

Ultimately, Perec’s method of slow observation informed my investigative process from start to finish. My aim was not to provide an objective truth, but to translate the physical and atmospheric qualities of the alley into a visual form. Guided by Drucker’s concept of designing graphic interpretation, I acknowledge that the way I visualized the collected data is subjective. I chose visual elements based on my interpretation of London. While alleys everywhere may have smokers, birds, and tourists, not every alley shares the same characteristics as 35 Colonnade. This investigation has deepened my understanding that design is inherently interpretive and does not always need to convey a definitive truth. As designers, we have control over what we observe and bear responsibility for how we visually represent it.

References

Drucker, J. (2014) Graphesis: Visual Forms of Knowledge Production. Harvard University Press.

Perec, G. (1997) Species of Spaces and Other Places. Translated by J. Sturrock. London: Penguin.