Lately I’ve been finding myself quite drawn to the work of New York-based CXXVI and Portland, Maine’s Rogues Gallery. Both labels consistently produce pieces that manage to capture the vibe of the northeast coast without feeling cliché. Good and solid is what it is. And, in some cases, actually fairly affordable.
A selection (top three by CXXVI, bottom three by Rogues Gallery):
American history is, in a lot of ways, railroad history. And while I’m glad that today I can get to California in six hours by plane, there’s still nothing quite like traveling by rail. It hasn’t lost its mystique and probably never will.
With that in mind, enjoy some eye candy from the LIFE magazine archives.
By now the culture of innovation and bold decision making at Apple is the stuff of legend. They simply have no peer, at least in terms of major corporations. It’s the reason Microsoft didn’t make iTunes. The reason Dell didn’t come out with the iPad and the reason nobody produced anything like the iPhone until the iPhone already existed. No other large company looks forward the way Apple does.
With that comes high expectations. Apple sets a certain standard and every time I buy one of their products I’m investing in the idea that they’ll not only continue to live up to it but exceed it as well. Lately, though, I’ve realized that they’re seriously lacking in one key area. They’re missing a giant opportunity to make a game-changing move that extends beyond their usual excellence in design, technology, and user experience.
Apple needs to open an American manufacturing facility. Ideally in Detroit, where the real estate and the workers are readily available and where the local economy and the American tradition both desperately need a boost.
Every time I buy a product manufactured overseas I feel a little guilty. I try (though not as hard as I could) to buy American-made goods when I can. Often, though, the option doesn’t exist. Go ahead and try to purchase domestically produced consumer electronics and see how far you get. It’s more than a little difficult.
There’s no reason it has to be that way. Even if things will never again be how they were it’s still possible — necessary — to recoup some of the losses. To that end, consider the following scenario.
Apple announces tomorrow that they’ve purchased a dormant facility in Detroit with plans to turn it into a high-end technology incubator. They’ll produce both internal prototypes and limited-run consumer goods. They’ll hire 500 workers and offer them comprehensive training and full benefits.
Who wouldn’t be excited by that?
They could then easily — and justifiably — charge a premium for American-made iPods or iPhones or products we haven’t even seen yet. Their customers are accustomed to paying a little more anyway. I’d bet many of them would pay a little more still to not only own the product but contribute in some small way to an American manufacturing renaissance.
Just as Apple has no major competition in terms of the design of their products (which, to be fair, is handled in America), opening up a domestic factory would set them apart. They’d generate a ton of goodwill and positive press. More importantly, they’d be doing something truly great and truly innovative.
Which is what they’re all about, right?
The opportunity is there. Apple is the right fit. If they don’t seize it, let’s hope someone does.
Jeremiah Moss, proprietor of Vanishing New York, checks in over at the New York Times with a fascinating study on the origins and derivations of Edward Hopper‘s iconic Nighthawks (at left).
The gist is that people have for a long time believed that a presently vacant lot once held the diner that inspired Hopper’s work. One reader’s tip and a slate of painstaking research later, this appears not to be true. It seems instead that Hopper was (like many an artist) inspired by the things around him and invented the Nighthawks diner to suit his needs. In his words (quoted by Moss) he was “Unconsciously…painting the loneliness of a large city.”
It’s a great little story and Moss deserves credit for putting it on the record. I find it somewhat odd, though, that he’s disappointed by the outcome. For me it’s as it should be. I never would have thought before now to ask the question of which diner had served as Hopper’s muse. If such a diner existed I would feel let down. The genius of the work lies in what Hopper himself said, that he was painting an idea and not a place.
Had that idea been nothing more than a stylized representation of something we might someday glimpse in a forgotten photograph the painting would lose much of its mystery. And, in that, much of its value.
Note: Comments may not appear immediately, but don’t be discouraged. I approve them as quickly as I can.
One of my favorite posts from one of my favorite sites is “Elko General Merchandise”, from One Trip Pass. I’m deeply drawn to these throwbacks, places that stayed alive by keeping to themselves and sticking to core principles like quality and value. There’s comfort in that.
The store was just 12 years old when John Florea shot the photos below for LIFE Magazine. I wonder if that America would recognize this one.
The resulting article appeared in the April 18, 1949 issue – click here to read it. I haven’t myself, though, so I can’t vouch for it.
Gentlemanly Means Pursued is an attempt to curate modern life in service of those who seek to live it better. Among that which you'll find here: substance, style, handmade and/or artisanal goods and services, thoughtful approaches to complex problems, an appreciation for fine artifacts, and worthwhile dispatches from culture both high and low.
Neal Shaffer is a writer (among other things) based solidly in Baltimore, MD. In addition to writing here at Charm City Current, he is the founder of Slant Six Creative, where he provides creative services to forward-thinking businesses and individuals. He also writes about local sports at The Loss Column, which he founded in 2006 and maintains to this day, and he is the onetime author of several graphic novels, an unproduced screenplay, numerous works of journalism, and a Twitter feed (@slantsixneal).
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