The Arby’s sign shaped like a hat is an icon to the extent the sign represents a hat — but it is not an icon to the extent it represents Arby’s, because no Arby’s restaurant (to my knowledge) is shaped like a hat. However, old Arby’s restaurant buildings, which were shaped like Conestoga wagons are icons to the extent they signify an actual Conestoga wagon.
A couple of things are percolating. Volume 12 will be released eventually — I suspect though before the New Year. Also, July 2016 will mark DR’s 10 year anniversary. Plan on MAJOR CELEBRATIONS.
Index of an Index
A study in meta-semiology
New Rochelle, NY
Prelude to Infinite Semiosis (No. 2)
Icon, index, and symbol
New Rochelle, NY
Not far from the Sound
“The term factory outlet refers to stores in which manufacturers sell their goods directly to consumers, thereby saving the costs of distribution and retailing, some portion of which they pass on to consumers in the form of discounted prices.” Marianne Conroy, Discount Dreams: Factory Outlet Malls, Consumption, and the Performance of Middle-Class Identify, 54 Social Text 63 at 65 (Spring, 1998). Value Retail News defines an outlet center as “one in which 50% or more of the tenants are manufacturer’s outlets.” Research Data, Value Retail News (archived 6/9/2008).
I propose that outlet malls can be classified according to the following types: (1) the factory, (2) the strip mall, (3) the cloisters, and (4) the walled city.
Tanger Outlets, Williamsport IA
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Wizzerds of Rhyme and yours truly (Gary River) are very proud to present:
Try to find 10 examples of SIGNS that are not signs. #SIGNS.
SIGNS turned out to be an extraordinarily dense and challenging subject.
Volume 12 is still happening.
Just taking a little longer than expected.
The Deep State EP by Half Lives (aka artist/musician Steve Wright) is a composition in the truest sense. Sure, the word “composition” is regularly used to describe any number of artistic forms: visual, written, acoustic, gustatory, aromatic. It does not require sustained reflection to realize that every song is a composition, “an aggregate; a composite substance.” Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary 207 (1916). But in the case of Deep State, the word, composition, is particularly appropriate. These songs are aggregates along several different axes. Along the first and most obvious axis, they constitute an exuberant and curated collection of sounds, samples, blips, beeps, and thumping beats. Along the second axis: the sounds are so pushed, pulled, layered, repeated, slowed down, and sped up that second order features start to emerge. But a third axis of aggregation: the revelry encoded in the generation of second axis. And a fourth axis of aggregation: temporal. Whereas in Country Bears and Hazerai, Wright’s guitar is draped over – complimenting perfectly – a hurtling chaotic engine, in Deep State, the structural roles are reversed! Wright’s guitar parts still hover, but here they are more like the cables of a suspension bridge, the protective netting in a beehat, the nylon in a fish tank scooper. The sonic collection playing the part of the roadway, the beekeeper, the fish. This deeper structure only apparent with the advent of time and context.
“The vast parking lot is in front not at the rear, since it is a symbol as well as a convenience.”
Robert Venturi, Denise Scott Brown, and Steven Izenour, Learning from Las Vegas: The Forgotten Symbolism of Architectural Form (1977) at 9.
[DRv12 is in the works].