Terrible Tuesdays are history.

It's one of those days, the day after Monday—that Terrible Tuesday. They aren't

normally terrible; but when the weather is this cold, skies are this gray and

internship hunting feels like you're grating parmigiano (as in it's smelly and crumbly), Tuesdays feel pretty terrible. It's moments like these when I'm in desperate need of external intervention. Some days it's friends, most days its food, but today it's Bruno. Industrial designer, architect, poet, philsopher, educator, author of children'sbooks and one of my favorites—I send a warm invisible hug to
Milanese graphic designer Bruno Munari.

WHY BRUNO? To be quite honest, I came across his little treasures by chance while

in Rome visiting the Ara Pacis museum with my art and architecture class. Unfortunately, he's not as internationally known as he deserves to be, but is now well respected by me and my circle of design friends (Hi Elisabeth). Though an admirer of his work, his words and love of children would leave the greatest impression on me. I spent most hours at the exhibit transcribing all the text from the walls (which included quotes about his design philosophy), into my journal. From that moment on, I was his biggest fan.

My journal dated from Jan 29, 2009

Today, while in conversation with a friend, I stopped to wonder about what really happens to children the moment they've decided on a career path. Is this silly? I don't think so. At seven, everything is possible. If you can dream it, you've got it. At that age, we were anything we wanted to be. We were the towns greatest bubble gum bubble makers, the world's greatest heart surgeons (because well, it had something to do with love didn't it?), the bravest fishermen/women of catfish, the most colorful wardrobe dressers and the most skillful eaters of spaghetti. Yes, your experiences are different from mine but more or less, you get the gist. Age seventeen then comes along, and we're forced to choose. The most despairing moment in every human beings life. Knowing that lines called limits, now exist. Decisions exist. Deadlines exist. It breaks my heart every time I think about it. The realization of becoming an adult. Today, I wondered why I chose to be a "designer".  Actually, I wondered why in the heck I would ever WANT to become a designer. It's madness. It's sleep depriving. It's technologically needy. Then I remember Bruno.

"Leave your studio and look at the streets too — how many discordant colors, how many show windows that could be more beautiful, how many signs in bad taste, how many wrong shapes...why not do it? Why not help improve the look of the world we live, side by side with the public that doesn't understand us and couldn't care less about art?"

  Photos taken at Ara Pacis Museum, 2009

  Photos taken at Ara Pacis Museum, 2009

Then Terrible Tuesdays are not so terrible.

Baci.