Images by Anja Markiewicz
(Thanks, Ignant)

A thought that was also shared by Florian Kaps, a young Austrian passionate about the aesthetic of Polaroids, and who had made a very good living distributing Polaroid worldwide via his online shop, in spite of the rise of digital cameras. Instead of accepting the ways of modern times, he decided to attempt the impossible: he bought one of Polaroid’s factories in the Netherlands, took on ten of the remaining staff and founded the Impossible Project. Since Polaroid still held the patent to their technology, they simply redeveloped a new film suitable for old Polaroid cameras, using Polaroid’s former factory and employes. Two years later, the first batch of new instant film was released, at first in a beautiful silver shade, little later in full technicolour.

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to wipe the dust off those old instant cameras: Polaroid is dead, but the Impossible Project is very much alive.

Photography by Heather Champ (top), Rhiannon Adam (middle) and Leah Reich (bottom)

Says Hal Incandenza: “I do things like get in a taxi and say, ‘The library, and step on it.’”

Also interesting is the kind of curatorial selection this blog presents of other blogs dedicated to all sorts of print ephemera related material.

Alvin Lustig, dust jacket for Monsieur Teste by Paul Valery (Knopf, 1947) via ‘A Journey Around My Skull’.

If you consider drinking tea a social event as well as a personal one, the decision to share the ceremony with a friend might get in the way of individual contemplation. Realizing this dilemma between the need for solitude and the wish for company could be the very moment when well-meaning friends will introduce you to the Chinese tradition of ‘Cha You’ (茶友), your so-called ‘Tea Friend’

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These are unglazed clay figures (Zisha 紫砂) which are to be placed on your tea tray along with tea pot and cup. In their company you can enjoy solitude without being alone, cherish their friendly presence but avoid any chit-chat diverting you from finding a way through the sometimes complicated mazes of thought. With each serving your friend would get a sip, too that is to be splashed all over his body. The more tea you share with him the more patina is added to his dull skin, thus proving your growing love and respect for his unique and silent company.

On first encounter my new friend looked like the grumpy child of a dragon and a toad.
But then his name came like a revelation: Kairos, the happy moment for decision making.
He is the god of opportunity, of chance. In his presence time becomes both extended and compressed. The tea spilled is not spoiled, time is measured in cups instead of minutes and decisions shall come easy.