A l’estiu vam recollir unes quantes notícies curioses, estranyes, divertides, i potser no directament relacionades amb la tecnologia però sí amb el món transmèdia i amb la innovació, amb un resultat freak i creatiu.
L’èxit d’aquesta secció ha fet que haguem pensat en mantenir-la i continuar posant-vos al límit del que és creatiu i el que és, definitivament, freaky.
Un fan de Miyazaki ha donat vida als seus pòsters, convertint-los en gifs a partir d’alguna de les imatges de cada pel·lícula. Això ens ha permès veure uns nous cartells vius i que ens transporten a l’univers de cada pel·lícula.
I vist que es pot fer així i que el resultat és molt més motivador, perquè les pel·lícules que s’estrenen ara continuen presentant digitalment pòsters immòbils?
Aquest dron va ser atacat per dues àguiles mentre estava filmant les muntanyes. Les àguiles van pensar que era menjar i se’l van emportar i el van estampar contra terra. Mai havies vist les ales de les àguiles tan de prop!!!
Pixel Vision és una consola portàtil amb un aire retro creada pel dissenyador suec Love Hultén. Com podeu veure a la fotografia, no es tracta d’una consola normal. Aquest petit dispositiu està cuidat fins al més mínim detall. La carcassa és de fusta de noguera i cada unitat es fa de manera individual. A l’interior te una Raspberry Pi A + connectada a una pantalla LCD de 3,5 polzades i s’hi poden carregar uns 10.000 jocs. Si la voleu demanar per reis, la Pixel Visión és a Kickstarter.
La productora japonesa de pel·lícules Toho Studios ha anunciat una nova peli de Godzilla, amb una bèstia més gran, més terrorífica i més destructiva que mai, de més de 100 metres d’alt. L’acció estarà basada principalment al Japó tot i que també hi haurà acció als EUA. Godzilla Resurgence s’estrenarà al Japó l’estiu de 2016.
Dumb Cuneiform és un projecte que converteix els teus tuits en tauletes de fang amb el text transcrit en escriptura cuneiforme. Perquè els tuits, ja sabem, són efímers i en canvi el text gravat en fang dura per sempre. I tot per només 20$!!!
Islàndia és un país fantàstic, i el més meravellós són els seus paisatges. Seria una llàstima destrossar-los amb torres d’alta tensió! Per això l’estudi d’arquitectura Choi+Shine va crear Land of Giants. En aquest projecte, les avorrides torres de sempre es transformen en éssers gegants en diferents moments i postures. Esperem que properament es faci realitat!
Ruanda acollirà el primer aeroport per a drons dissenyat per l’estudi Norman Foster. Aquest dronport ha de servir per repartir medicaments i altres productes de primera necessitat sense que calgui construir carreteres i túnels. Els drons poden transportar 10kg de càrregar en rutes d’uns 100km amb un mínim cost.
Els dronports tindrien dues vies, una per material mèdic i una altra per altres materials. Hauria d’esdevenir un tipus d’infrastructura ubíqua similar a la xarxa estacions de servei per al trànsit rodat. El projecte s’estendrià fins al 2020 i el seu propòsit és d’arribar als 40 dronports distribuïts per diferents punts del continent.
Una agència de Minneapolis ha creat l’app Handshake Tester. Quina és la utilitat d’aquesta app? Doncs ni més ni menys que practicar per donar la mà de forma ferma. Et baixes l’app, i a partir d’aquí només cal apretar, moure, i el test et donarà el resultat de com dones la mà. Significarà aquesta app el final de les mans toves i mortes? Per fi?
La cadena australiana de menjar ràpid Chicken Treat ha contractat Betty, una gallina, com a community manager. La gallina fa els tuits i esperen que algun d’ells contingui una paraula de 5 lletres amb sentit. Ara per ara, la gallina i els seus tuits tenen 38.000 seguidors esperant la paraula màgica!!!!
The music of John Cale converged with the speculative architecture visions of Liam Young at the Barbican’s Digital Revolution exhibition this past September. It was the first-ever drone orchestra performance and from a whirlpool of collective, creative energy, came a swarm of unmanned flying objects programmed to entertain, instead of kill.
“LOOP>>60Hz: Transmissions from the Drone Orchestra was a collaboration between airborne architecture and music,” explains Cale, a multi-instrumentalist, and one of the founding members of the Velvet Underground. In a new documentary, above, Noisey’s sister site, The Creator’s Project, captures Cale and Young’s unlikely partnership, which includes an immersive live music and drone performance and its accompanying online experience, City of Drones, developed in partnership with FIELD.
Before they met, Young received a phone call from Cale who had seen an earlier work of his called Electronic Counter Measures in which wi-fi routers on a flock of drones broadcast a pirated Internet signal, like an “aerial Napster.” Young had also begun testing speakers on drones, launching ones at Burning Man that played Wagner’s “Flight of the Valkyries.” An innovator in the music world, Cale was intrigued by the opportunity to embed his signature audio style onto a flying multichannel “orchestra.” As Young and Cale talked, they imagined what a drone could become once it was stripped of its traditional narrative of war and terror. Their vision was to have drones shed their hard technological shells and take on more human-like characteristics by blending live audio with the mechanical bots.
It took two years alone to find the right venue. “There’s a good reason why this has never been done before. Putting these technologies above people’s heads are really violent. They spin at extraordinary speeds. The propellers can take someone’s head off,” explains Young. The idea was to bring people into direct relationships with the technologies. By having the bots interact with humans in a playful way in a closed arena, creating physical interruptions with the sheer velocity of their propellers, people could experience the drone as an “everyday object,” and not as a weapon. The Barbican Theatre bravely stepped up to the plate.
Cale remixed and reengineered his music for the performance. “I redrew the map. I changed the arrangements, made them much harder and more urban and colder. This made the voices stand out more, and the singing that much more emotional,” he explains. A few drones from a flock of 15 would carry his voice to different areas in the room during the performance. Inspired by Cale’s previous work with drone ambient sounds, additional flying bots were augmented with speakers to amplify the mechanical humming of their motors, generating noise that was then incorporated into the live composition.
The drones also had to be programmed with a set of behaviors in the same way a choreographer teaches a dancer what steps to perform. Software lead Andreas Müller developed an ultrasonic beacon tracking system that could allow the team to manipulate light, create a smoky haze effect, and use the whole of the theater for their choreography.
Like dancers or actors, the drones had their own couture costumes such as bright green and blue plumage, a coat made from 500 phone charms sourced from Chinese markets, a box-like structure decorated with hazard tape, and even a shiny disco suit made from 4,000 fake nails. Each transformed the drone into a cultural object, a unique “species” with its own personality and temperament, that had a specific role to play in acting out Cale’s soundscape. For example, says Young, the disco drone was designed to represent a sail during Cale’s track about ghost ships. “If you have one drone, it’s a mystery, If you’ve got two drones, it’s a love story. And if you have any more than that, it’s a family brawl,” says Cale. Young adds, “That’s what we do. We find characters in technology.”
Producer Keri Elmsly stood in the orchestra pit during the performance, coordinating takeoffs and landings. “It was like a military operation,” she describes, “And you had no idea what would happen.” The challenges in creating a performance that combined drone technology with live music were monumental, especially getting them to fly in the first place. The costumes, she says, made the aerodynamics unpredictable.
Technical challenges cropped up even in the hours before the show. The original plan for the performance was to have the drones be autonomous. But when the automated system failed, the team had to adjust the show for manual overrides, and a team of pilots took over. Nita Scott, Cale’s manager and a producer on the performance, directed flight patterns, entrances, and exits from a freshly-built launching platform where she could see both Cale and the pilots. “The most critical thing was to be sure the artistic concept remained true, and none of the drones would run out of battery life prior to my directing them to land,” says Scott.<
With the weights on the bodies of the drones, the batteries drained quickly, within five-to-ten minutes. A team of battery changers had to “resuscitate” the drones periodically during the 80-minute-long performance. “It’s quite an extraordinary infrastructure behind the scenes,” says Young. “We just see the drones in the air, but actually it’s just one part of a much larger technological system.”<
Prior to the live concert experience, an online portal was commissioned by The Space and created by Cale and Young, in collaboration with Field.IO. In City of Drones, viewers can pilot a lonely drone through an endless abstract cityscape, seeing the landscape as it would. The interactive digital environment was the world in which they could frame the performance, says Elmsly. “It gave us a visual language of power that we couldn’t employ in the theater,” she adds. In a future theater work, she and the team would like the opportunity to marry the online experience with the performative piece.
When Ruth Mackenzie, interim CEO and creative director of The Space, first heard about LOOP>>60Hz from The Barbican, she was struck by the idea of having real life drones in a closed concert hall space: “It sounded thrilling and dangerous,” she says with a laugh. For the commissioned work that would exist online, Mackenzie and The Space challenged the artists to create something that would replicate the same danger, interactivity, playfulness, jeopardy, and visual variety as the performance. “In a funny way, City of Drones gives you a more intimate experience of the drone,” she says. “It is a digital world of a really high order of artistic experience and innovation.”
City of Drones aligns with The Space’s overall mission to share new innovative artworks that comment on digital technology’s impact on creativity, for free online. They launched their annual Open Call for creative works that consider the mobile device as a medium, earlier this year. The shortlist will be released in December, and the winners in early 2015. (…)
Indie rock band OK Go has a reputation for doing wild and crazy one-shot videos for it’s new releases, and today’s reveal on NBC’s Today show is no exception.
Check out this insane short film where the band performs its second single “I Won’t Let You Down” from the new album Hungry Ghosts. They chair dance atop Honda UNI-CUBs, “omni-directional driving wheel systems” that are in the development stage. Think sitting-down Segways and you’ll have an idea.
Better yet, check out the video below, filmed in Chiba Prefecture, Japan this past August. And make sure you stay for the final, mind-blowing minute where the shot goes high.
Not only are those mono-wheel robot things amazing, but check out the umbrella craziness there at the end. When the camera first pans upwards from the ground, our first thought was, “oh, wow, they’ve been shooting this whole video with a crane.”
Then the camera goes higher, and higher. Then higher still. That’s not a crane. It’s actually a custom-built “multi-copter camera,” according to the press release, that was developed for this specific video.
It does all the things a typical land-based camera does: zoom, pan, rotate, etc. But then it does all those things in the air, so that the band could film that amazing LED-billboard-style grid at the end, where messages in Japanese and English are created by a ton of people opening and closing umbrellas. Wow.
OK Go, consisting of Damian Kulash, Tim Nordwind, Dan Konopka and Andy Ross, have definitely topped themselves in this new video.
Aquest vídeo va tenir més de 10 milions de visualitzacions en la primera setmana.
(…) If you were creating, from scratch, a taxonomy to describe all machines, these drones would not belong to the same species. They would probably not belong to the same phylum. The technology of unmanned flight has diversified so rapidly that there are now 1,500 different kinds of drones being manufactured, and they are participants in nearly every type of human endeavor, composing a whole flying-robot ecology so vast that to call every one by the same name can seem absurd. But drone, an impossible word, is also a perfect one.
Each of these machines gives its human operator the same power: It allows us to project our intelligence into the air and to exert our influence over vast expanses of space. Drones have become important to the pursuit of isis, the plans of Amazon and Google, the management of farmland in Asia, the protection of pyramids in the Andes. Just within the past two weeks, Facebook has announced a trial of a drone-based wireless internet, the delivery conglomerate DHL has revealed that it will use the machines to ship packages to isolated German islands in the North Sea, and the U.S. government has decided to allow Hollywood production companies to film from drones, making possible visual angles that have so far existed only in animation.
Drones are a different kind of new technology from what we’re used to. The communications breakthroughs of the past two decades have multiplied the connections within society, but drones offer something else: the conquest of physical space, the extension of society’s compass, the ability to be anywhere and see anything. This physical presence can be creepy when seen from the ground, in ways that echo the imaginings of science fiction. “Flying,” says Illah Nourbakhsh, who ran the robotics program at NASA’s Ames facility, “creates this dynamic where people are no longer on top.” And yet to the drone pilot, maneuvering through the air, it is liberating. (…)
THERE IS A FOUR-MINUTE shot that opens Pretty Sweet, a short skateboarding film from 2012 co-directed by Spike Jonze, shot entirely from a drone. The lens starts tight on a skateboarder’s face — a gnarly and meaty face, the kind an Italian butcher might grab, cure, and slice. Then the camera begins to move, past him and across the street, tracking four new skaters as they jump out of a pickup truck and scale a fence, then following one skater razoring down a flight of stairs, then soaring past them and down to a bug’s-eye view, another skater leaping, a girl tumbling, each figure quickly exchanged for the next but the movement continuous, as if the camera were working in cursive, until it lifts higher and disappears into a cloud of confetti. Money shot. “Even now I watch that and I get chills,” says Randy Slavin, a commercial director who recently founded the first drone film festival. “There is literally no other way to get that shot. You can put a camera literally anywhere in three-dimensional space. You can design any shot.”
Slavin bought a drone shortly after he saw that video, but it took him a while to get good enough to make much use of it. Certain moves turned out to be tricky. He wanted a shot that would track someone walking down the street, initially from the front but then turning as she passed and watching her from the back. That pivot was hard to perfect — you had to pull the camera back, dip it, and turn it all at once — and so he practiced it on a basketball court near his apartment in Tudor City. Soon, though, he could get the drone to run like a dog, low and fast along the street. He got it to skim over a swimming pool, like a bird hunting fish, and to stalk through gardens of friends’ mansions in the Hamptons, like a burglar. On his laptop, Slavin showed me one of the most famous sequences in 20th-century film, the beginning of The Shining, where the camera follows a car deep into the wilderness. Kubrick shot these scenes from a helicopter — far more expensive than a drone, and also less nimble. “You can just hear Kubrick saying, ‘Closer! Get closer!’ ” Slavin said. With a drone, you could always get closer; you could move back and forth between the intimate and the vast. “My dream,” Slavin told me, “is to start a shot in a living room” — on a couple having an argument, maybe — “and then very quickly go out the window and up, so that you can see the whole city.”
None of the early entrants in Slavin’s festival, which will take place in February, were shot by Kubrick or Jonze. This is a novice’s medium. In one infamous drone video, the camera swoops toward a bride and groom standing in a field with their foreheads touching and eyes closed. The drone flies under a flowery arch twined with flowers, then slams into the groom’s head. On YouTube, there is evidence that the technique of many drone photographers is better, and there is some artistry too: gorgeous overhead film of New Zealand’s landscape, for instance, and one dramatic video from a drone flown into a fireworks celebration in West Palm Beach, powder exploding all around the camera. “Pretty ballsy,” Slavin said approvingly.
There is something uncanny about the drone perspective that creeps up on you, the more videos like this you watch. The drone’s point of view emphasizes the mass scale over the individual. One of the early drone videos that got around, enough to collect nearly 2 million views, is a vision of last year’s Burning Man, roving across the encampments — the huge sculptures, the big empty desert beyond. From high above the festival, individual distinctions blur and the people look almost choreographed. The man who shot it, a San Franciscan named Eddie Codel, had been going to the festival for years, and he told me he was intrigued by the way the drone removed you from the usual individual perspective — circumscribed, on the ground — and let you see the “organized chaos” of Burning Man as a whole.
When this perspective first began to proliferate through aerial photography nearly a century ago, it was greeted both with awe and alarm. Observing the world from above distanced the photographer, and the viewer, from their subject: “the God’s-eye view,” as the film historian Paula Amad calls it. Walter Benjamin believed there was violence inherent in this perspective — dehumanization and threat. (The Futurist poets, early theorists of Fascism, loved aerial photography.) Other intellectuals were convinced that it emphasized the essential interconnectedness of people. The aerial view resembled the perspective from which audiences gazed down on mass stadium spectacles, in which individuals become “mere building blocks and nothing more,” the critic Siegfried Kracauer wrote in his famous essay “The Mass Ornament.”
Both the beauty and the strangeness of drone art come from this point of view. The line of sight seduces photographers. It also affects them. There is a San Francisco outfitter called Photojojo that rents camera-equipped drones for the day, and the company’s founder, Amit Gupta, told me that customers tend to take pictures of recognizable monuments from an unusual perspective, or to photograph themselves. The drone selfie has become a slightly ridiculous cultural artifact (at least since Twitter persuaded Patrick Stewart to take one in Cannes), but the perspective it provides is thrilling: a reminder of how small we are and how little we can see, of how awesome and humbling the God’s-eye view can be.
Here, for instance, is Gupta taking a video of himself from a drone, a young man in a T-shirt and jeans standing on Bernal Hill, next to two of his friends. The drone hovers at eye level as if it were a fourth friend, and then Gupta touches the controller and the camera begins to back away and the frame extends; now it captures not just the three men but the whole hill they are standing on, and then the park. Then, the neighborhood, and then most all of San Francisco. And then, majestically, the bay beyond. The film lasts only 15 seconds, but in Gupta’s hands the drone is not a tool of narcissism but a context machine. As the video ends, he is still in the center of the frame but his true subject has swelled all around him: San Francisco, the mass ornament.
Take a real-life Fantasia, then set it about five years from right now, and you’d probably end up with Sparked, the short film you see here. A collaboration between famed entertainment troupe Cirque du Soleil and the university ETH Zurich, the plot is simple: an electrician short-circuits a fuse, bringing lamps in his workshop to life.
But that doesn’t quite do it justice. The film was all shot live, without any special effects, while the drones constantly coordinated with a digital choreographer: a computer that tracked the quadcopters’ positions 200 times a second. You can get a better sense of how they pulled it off from the behind-the-scenes video below.
This isn’t the first time we’ve seen a partnership between drones and dancers, so the next obvious question is: when will an all-drone troupe go on tour?