Last year, MACK Books published Architecture from Below, which anthologized writings by the French Brazilian architect, theorist, and painter Sérgio Ferro. (Douglas Spencer reviewed it for AN.) Now, MACK follows with Design and the Building Site and Complementary Essays, the second in the trilogy of books dedicated to Ferro’s scholarship. The following excerpt of the author’s 2023 preface to the English edition, which preserves its British phrasing, captures Ferro’s realization about the working conditions of construction sites in Brasília. The sentiment is likely relatable even today for young architects as they discover how drawings become buildings. Design and the Building Site and Complementary Essays will be released on May 22. If I remember correctly, it was in 1958 or 1959, when Rodrigo and I were second- or third year architecture students at FAUUSP, that my father, the real estate developer Armando Simone Pereira, commissioned us to design two large office buildings and eleven shops in Brasilia, which was then under construction. Of course, we were not adequately prepared for such an undertaking. Fortunately, Oscar Niemeyer and his team, who were responsible for overseeing the construction of the capital, had drawn up a detailed document determining the essential characteristics of all the private sector buildings. We followed these prescriptions to the letter, which saved us from disaster. Nowadays, it is hard to imagine the degree to which the construction of Brasilia inspired enthusiasm and professional pride in the country’s architects. And in the national imagination, the city’s establishment in the supposedly unpopulated hinterland evoked a re-founding of Brazil. Up until that point, the occupation of our immense territory had been reduced to a collection of arborescent communication routes, generally converging upon some river, following it up to the Atlantic Ocean. Through its ports, agricultural or extractive commodities produced by enslaved peoples or their substitutes passed towards the metropolises; goods were exchanged in the metropolises for more elaborate products, which took the opposite route. Our national identity was summed up in a few symbols, such as the anthem or the flag, and this scattering of paths pointing overseas. Brasilia would radically change this situation, or so we believed. It would create a central hub where the internal communication routes could converge, linking together hithertoseparate junctions, stimulating trade and economic progress in the country’s interior. It was as if, for the first time, we were taking care of ourselves. At the nucleus of this centripetal movement, architecture would embody the renaissance. And at the naval of the nucleus, the symbolic mandala of this utopia: the cathedral. Rodrigo and I got caught up in the euphoria. And perhaps more so than our colleagues, because we were taking part in the adventure with ‘our’ designs. The reality was very different — but we did not know that yet. At that time, architects in Brazil were responsible for verifying that the construction was in line with the design. We had already monitored some of our first building sites. But the construction company in charge of them, Osmar Souza e Silva’s CENPLA, specialized in the building sites of modernist architects from the so-called Escola Paulista led by Vilanova Artigas (which we aspired to be a part of, like the pretentious students we were). Osmar was very attentive to his clients and his workers, who formed a supportive and helpful team. He was even more careful with us, because he knew how inexperienced we were. I believe that the CENPLA was particularly important in São Paulo modernism: with its congeniality, it facilitated experimentation, but for the same reason, it deceived novices like us about the reality of other building sites. Consequently, Rodrigo and I travelled to Brasilia several times to check that the constructions followed ‘our’ designs and to resolve any issues. From the very first trip, our little bubble burst. Our building sites, like all the others in the future capital, bore no relation to Osmar’s. They were more like a branch of hell. A huge, muddy wasteland, in which a few cranes, pile drivers, tractors, and excavators dotted the mound of scaffolding occupied by thousands of skinny, seemingly exhausted wretches, who were nevertheless driven on by the shouts of master builders and foremen, in turn pressured by the imminence of the fateful inauguration date. Surrounding or huddled underneath the marquees of buildings under construction, entire families, equally skeletal and ragged, were waiting for some accident or death to open up a vacancy. In contact only with the master builders, and under close surveillance so we would not speak to the workers, we were not allowed to see what comrades who had worked on these sites later told us in prison: suicide abounded; escape was known to be futile in the unpopulated surroundings with no viable roads; fatal accidents were often caused by weakness due to chronic diarrhoea, brought on by rotten food that came from far away; outright theft took place in the calculation of wages and expenses in the contractor’s grocery store; camps were surrounded by law enforcement. I repeat this anecdote yet again not to invoke the benevolence of potential readers, but rather to point out the conditions that, in my opinion, allowed two students (Flávio Império joined us a little later) still in their professional infancy to quickly adopt positions that were contrary to the usual stance of architects. As the project was more Oscar Niemeyer’s than it was our own, we did not have the same emotional attachment that is understandably engendered between real authors and their designs. We had not yet been imbued with the charm and aura of the métier. And the only building sites we had visited thus far, Osmar’s, were incomparable to those we discovered in Brasilia. In short, our youthfulness and unpreparedness up against an unbearable situation made us react almost immediately to the profession’s satisfied doxa. Unprepared and young perhaps, but already with Marx by our side. Rodrigo and I joined the student cell of the Brazilian Communist Party during our first year at university. In itself, this did not help us much: the Party’s Marxism, revised in the interests of the USSR, was pitiful. Even high-level leaders rarely went beyond the first chapter of Capital. But at the end of the 1950s, the effervescence of the years to come was already nascent:  […] this extraordinary revival […] the rediscovery of Marxism and the great dialectical texts and traditions in the 1960s: an excitement that identifies a forgotten or repressed moment of the past as the new and subversive, and learns the dialectical grammar of a Hegel or an Adorno, a Marx or a Lukács, like a foreign language that has resources unavailable in our own. And what is more: the Chinese and Cuban revolutions, the war in Vietnam, guerrilla warfare of all kinds, national liberation movements, and a rare libertarian disposition in contemporary history, totally averse to fanaticism and respect for ideological apparatuses of (any) state or institution. Going against the grain was almost the norm. We were of course no more than contemporaries of our time. We were soon able to position ourselves from chapters 13, 14, and 15 of Capital, but only because we could constantly cross-reference Marx with our observations from well-contrasted building sites and do our own experimenting. As soon as we identified construction as manufacture, for example, thanks to the willingness and even encouragement of two friends and clients, Boris Fausto and Bernardo Issler, I was able to test both types of manufacture — organic and heterogeneous — on similar-sized projects taking place simultaneously, in order to find out which would be most convenient for the situation in Brazil, particularly in São Paulo. Despite the scientific shortcomings of these tests, they sufficed for us to select organic manufacture. Arquitetura Nova had defined its line of practice, studies, and research. There were other sources that were central to our theory and practice. Flávio Império was one of the founders of the Teatro de Arena, undoubtedly the vanguard of popular, militant theatre in Brazil. He won practically every set design award. He brought us his marvelous findings in spatial condensation and malleability, and in the creative diversion of techniques and material—appropriate devices for an underdeveloped country. This is what helped us pave the way to reformulating the reigning design paradigms.  We had to do what Flávio had done in the theatre: thoroughly rethink how to be an architect. Upend the perspective. The way we were taught was to start from a desired result; then others would take care of getting there, no matter how. We, on the other hand, set out to go down to the building site and accompany those carrying out the labor itself, those who actually build, the formally subsumed workers in manufacture who are increasingly deprived of the knowledge and know-how presupposed by this kind of subsumption. We should have been fostering the reconstitution of this knowledge and know-how—not so as to fulfil this assumption, but in order to reinvigorate the other side of this assumption according to Marx: the historical rebellion of the manufacture worker, especially the construction worker. We had to rekindle the demand that fueled this rebellion: total self-determination, and not just that of the manual operation as such. Our aim was above all political and ethical. Aesthetics only mattered by way of what it included—ethics. Instead of estética, we wrote est ética [this is ethics]. We wanted to make building sites into nests for the return of revolutionary syndicalism, which we ourselves had yet to discover. Sérgio Ferro, born in Brazil in 1938, studied architecture at FAUUSP, São Paulo. In the 1960s, he joined the Brazilian communist party and started, along with Rodrigo Lefevre and Flávio Império, the collective known as Arquitetura Nova. After being arrested by the military dictatorship that took power in Brazil in 1964, he moved to France as an exile. As a painter and a professor at the École Nationale Supérieure d’Architecture de Grenoble, where he founded the Dessin/Chantier laboratory, he engaged in extensive research which resulted in several publications, exhibitions, and awards in Brazil and in France, including the title of Chevalier des Arts et des Lettres in 1992. Following his retirement from teaching, Ferro continues to research, write, and paint.

John served in the United States Army Corps of Engineers in Germany (1953–1956) and earned degrees in philosophy and architecture from Rice University (1957–1963) and his graduate degree in architecture from Columbia University in 1969The co-founder, with his wife Deborah Natsios, of Cryptome passed away in March. The Whistleblower Architects: surveillance, infrastructure, and freedom of information according to Cryptome (part 1)The Whistleblower Architects: surveillance, infrastructure, and freedom of information according to Cryptome (part 2)Back in 2016 Archinect published a two (1 & 2) part interview with John and his wife in which they explained their interest "in decentralized zones where architecture and public infrastructures intersect", democratic society, "the corrosive apparatus of national security secrecy" and how surveillance operates "in the city".

A teen tech entrepreneur is working to retrofit robots with simulated artificial bodily functions like a virtual heart rate, body temperature, and sweating response — a bong-rip idea to make them better emulate human emotional states like joy or anxiety.In an interview with TechCrunch, the 19-year-old founder of "emotionally intelligent robots" company Intempus, Teddy Warner, explained why he's imbuing AI with digital versions of the often-uncomfortable sensations you feel during spells of heightened emotion like fear and anxiety.Warner told the website that he got the idea for his company while working at the AI image generator outfit Midjourney.During his time at that company, the researcher and his coworkers were tasked with building out a so-called "world AI" model, which essentially means an AI that makes decisions like humans do in the real world.While world models have made waves in the AI industry in recent years, they've fallen short because, as Warner puts it, they're being trained on data from robots that heretofore have lacked the kind of physiological feedback humans have."Robots currently go from A to C, that is observation to action, whereas humans, and all living things, have this intermediary B step that we call physiological state," he explained to TechCrunch. "Robots don’t have physiological state. They don’t have fun, they don’t have stress."For robots to understand our human world, they need "be able to communicate with humans in a way that is innate to us, that is less uncanny, more predictable, we have to give them this B step," he continued.In short, Warner thinks robots need to be able to feel like we feel. After hooking himself and his buddies up to polygraph tests to capture their sweat data, the youthful founder built out an AI model that can, as he told the website, "essentially allow robots to have an emotional composition" based on lie detector data.Depending on how much Kool-Aid you've had to drink, the concept of feeling robots — and AI trained on lie detector tests — is either goofy or terrifying. The latter vibe is worsened by Warner's recent announcement that he'd won a Thiel Fellowship, which the controversial tech billionaire Peter Thiel awards to several youngsters each year to fund their entrepreneurial dreams.Since September, Warner has built out the Intempus research apparatus and managed to sign seven partners in the process. He's now hiring staffers and working on testing his retrofitted feeling robots in front of customers — though he says he's not opposed to building his own robots in the future."I have a bunch of robots, and they run a bunch of emotions," he told TechCrunch. "I want to have someone come in and just understand that this robot is a joyful robot, and if I can innately convey some emotion, some intents that the robot holds, then I’ve done my job properly."Share This Article

Pentagram partners Jody Hudson-Powell and Luke Powell have created a dynamic equine identity for AI video company TwelveLabs. Based between San Francisco and Seoul, TwelveLabs describes itself as “the world’s most powerful video intelligence platform.” Unlike generative video tools which help users create videos from scratch, TwelveLabs uses AI analysis to help people understand their existing videos at a very granular level, which makes them more searchable. Co-founder and CEO Jae Lee explains that communicating this difference – between video generation and video understanding – was at the heart of their work with Pentagram. “In the middle of last year our models were improving pretty rapidly, and we thought we needed to up our game in terms of our storytelling, why we matter, and to match the design, the tone, and the messaging to our ambition,” he says. Lee described the previous branding as “straight out of Silicon Valley” and they chose Hudson–Powell and his team due to their tech-savvy design practice. In creating a new identity, it was important not to be “lumped in” with other generative AI video companies, Lee says, but also to differentiate themselves from other video analysis tools. “Our competitors essentially do frame-by-frame analysis, but we look at it temporally,” lead product designer Sean Barclay explains. “That’s what differentiates us, and we wanted to convey that secret sauce.” “On the first call, they had me at temporal reasoning,” Hudson-Powell laughs. His team had to avoid the visual cliches AI tools tend to embrace – “it’s a very noisy category with lots of sparkles.”  But they also had to capture and communicate TwelveLabs’ offering in a way that was accessible and exciting, but not dumbed down. “We had a distinct stream of work that wasn’t strategic or creative – it was just understanding the technology,” Hudson-Powell says. “We kept asking them, could we imagine your technology to look something like this? Or this? “We were trying to put some kind of conceptual apparatus around the technology, to see if we could find a visual communication language that we could start to build on.” “Jody was very good at pulling out those threads about what video looks like in our brains,” Lee says. Pentagram’s Luke Powell and Jody Hudson Powell’s new identity palette for TwelveLabs The Pentagram team homed in on the core idea of “video as volume” rather than a timeline, and they built a series of thread-based diagrams to help explain how it works. This visual motif could be scaled across the touchpoints, from product pages to sales and branding. “You get this graphic stretch, so you’re speaking to different audiences with the same concept,” Hudson-Powell explains. The horse logo was grounded in what Hudson-Powell calls TwelveLabs’ existing “lore” – Lee says they were inspired by Eadweard Muybridge’s famous 1887 animation of a horse, and he likes the metaphor of a user as a jockey steering their technology. The logo – which has 12 layers in a nod to the company’s name – is often used in motion, galloping across a screen. “We worked a lot of animation into the identity,” Hudson-Powell says. “Animation can be quite frivolous, but we did it really intentionally. The logo gives you this feeling of perpetual motion, this rhythm at the heart of the brand, which is really important.” https://d3faj0w6aqatyx.cloudfront.net/uploads/2025/05/01_TL_Logo_Gradient_16x9_60fps_10s_LOW.mp4 The team chose Milling for the typeface for its combination of “technicality and soft edges” and the visual identity uses the LCH colour system, which, compared to RGB, represents colour in a more similar way to how our eyes perceive colour. “You can match any two colours and they’ll be harmonious, which you don’t get with RGB,” Hudson-Powell says. “We can find infinite combinations.” There were also three colour subsets for TwelveLabs’ three key features – pink-purple for search, orange-yellow for generate and green-blue for embed. Pentagram’s Luke Powell and Jody Hudson Powell’s new colour palette for TwelveLabs Lee says the new identity has resonated with investors, employees and most importantly, customers. “It’s given them this confidence that they’re working with not only a super-technical team, but also a team that cares deeply about video,” he says. “So we can communicate with our science community, but also with the people who are building the content we love consuming. There’s a duality which feels really connected.” Barclay agrees, and adds that it helps people grasp what TwelveLabs does – and what it might do for them – more quickly. “It’s definitely improved our website tremendously in terms of telling a better story,” he says. “Before it took a lot of time to comprehend what TwelveLabs is, and what we’re offering. We have definitely shortened that.” Pentagram’s Luke Powell and Jody Hudson Powell’s new identity palette for TwelveLabs Pentagram’s Luke Powell and Jody Hudson Powell’s new logo for TwelveLabs Pentagram’s Luke Powell and Jody Hudson Powell’s new identity palette for TwelveLabs Pentagram’s Luke Powell and Jody Hudson Powell’s new icons for TwelveLabs Pentagram’s Luke Powell and Jody Hudson Powell’s new identity palette for TwelveLabs Pentagram’s Luke Powell and Jody Hudson Powell’s new identity palette for TwelveLabs

The first time you see it, your brain doesn’t register it as a keycap. It looks more like a diorama ripped straight out of a Pixar-directed sci-fi short – complete with a lone astronaut, and some sufficiently advanced quantum tech, all sealed in resin like they’re cryogenically frozen for your desk. That’s the Dwarf Factory Astrovert Quantum-ixer Spacebar. And calling it “just” a spacebar would be like calling the Millennium Falcon a cargo ship. This 6.25U artisan slab isn’t trying to be discreet. It demands attention, and frankly, earns it. Dwarf Factory’s MO has always leaned into visual storytelling, and the Quantum-ixer continues that trend with unapologetic whimsy. The SAR3 profile makes it ergonomically familiar if you’re already swimming in Cherry MX-compatible gear, but ergonomics are arguably beside the point. You’re not slamming this $99 artifact into your keyboard for WPM gains. You’re doing it because it lights up like a moonlit spaceship hangar when your RGB kicks in. Designer: Dwarf Factory Dwarf Factory doesn’t really do one-off designs. They build universes. The Quantum-ixer spacebar is the final chapter in their Astrovert series, and it plays like the climax of a well-paced space opera. According to them, this piece is the technological leap the Astrovert crew needed – essentially, the device that stabilizes their jumps through space-time. It’s less of a decorative flourish and more like the mission-critical core of their interstellar saga. The astronaut, the sidekick, the bizarre apparatus – they’re all locked in, mid-adventure, frozen inside resin like a scene from a comic book panel. This isn’t an homage to sci-fi; it’s an artifact from it, rendered in the same obsessive detail that defines everything Dwarf Factory touches. There are four colorways, each with its own visual flavor. T-800 channels a brutalist, chrome-heavy vibe – dark and industrial, almost noir. The 94B feels cooler and more clinical, with icy blue tones. PickIE takes a more playful turn, leaning into candy-colored optimism, while 14512F lands in deep-space territory with its moody purples and inky blacks. All of them look like artifacts pulled from different galaxies, unified by their surreal attention to detail. If your keyboard has backlighting (especially RGB) the translucent elements let that light filter through like some unholy alien core reactor. Sure, the spacebar has always been the most iconic key and never really needed labeling or backlit text, so something as whimsical as the Quantum-ixer feels appropriate for the keyboard. Why keep that piece of real estate empty? Why keep it boring? When you could, instead, outfit it with sci-fi tech? The spacebar fits like a dream on Cherry MX switches and clones, holding a 6.25u layout that’s standard for most mechanical keyboards. That SAR3 profile gives it a slight sculpt, comfortably sitting under your thumbs without disrupting the rhythm of your board. It’s plug-and-play in the most interstellar sense. Each one ships in a kraft box with stickers, finger gloves, and even a loose stem tightening kit, which somehow makes the whole thing feel like you’re unboxing lab equipment or a prop from a cyberpunk film. It’s silly. It’s self-aware. It’s perfect. At a glance, it might seem excessive to drop nearly a hundred bucks on a single keycap, but this isn’t about function anymore. It’s about expression. Dwarf Factory’s Quantum-ixer doesn’t improve your typing speed or enhance your workflow. What it does is transform your workspace into a miniature cosmos – something you interact with every day, but now through the lens of fantasy, imagination, and a little weirdness. And maybe, just maybe, that bit of storytelling is worth the splurge. The post The Most Ridiculously Cool Spacebar Ever Made Looks Like Some Quantum Alien Tech first appeared on Yanko Design.

News Physics Scientists used a levitating magnet to hunt for dark matter The quantum-based technique could reveal the presence of hypothetical ultralight particles A magnet levitates over a superconductor. Scientists used this phenomenon in a search for ultralight dark matter. Forance/Alamy Stock Photo By Emily Conover 1 hour ago In a first-of-its-kind test, scientists used a levitated magnet to search for dark matter, the unidentified substance believed to be present throughout the cosmos. If dark matter is made up of ultralight particles, it could behave like a wave that would subtly jostle the magnet. Although no signs of such jostling appeared, a few tweaks could improve the experiment’s sensitivity to dark matter’s potential influence, the researchers report in a paper to be published in Physical Review Letters. Scientists used this apparatus to make measurements of a levitated magnet that provided a new method to hunt for dark matterDennis Uitenbroekz Scientists believe dark matter must exist to account for astronomical observations that suggest an unidentified source of mass in the cosmos. Dark matter has evaded a wide variety of detection attempts, so astroparticle physicist Christopher Tunnell of Rice University in Houston was looking for new ways to search for it. Tunnell and colleagues realized that an existing experiment, originally designed to make sensitive gravitational measurements, could spot ultralight dark matter. In the experiment, a magnet with a mass of less than a milligram was suspended within a container made of a superconductor — a material that conducts electricity without resistance. The magnet’s motion was monitored with a quantum device designed to measures changes in magnetic fields, known as a SQUID. If ultralight dark matter exists and interacts with normal matter via a new type of force, the dark matter wave would have subtly jiggled the magnet. Tunnell and colleagues reanalyzed the data from that experiment to search for dark matter’s influence, but found no evidence of it. Sign up for our newsletter We summarize the week's scientific breakthroughs every Thursday.

In May 2015, prominent right-wing intellectual Charles Murray published a book calling on the superrich to fund an American rebellion against their government.Titled By the People: Rebuilding Liberty Without Permission, the book argued that the growth of the regulatory state was worse than dangerous: It was an existential threat to the American way of life. For this reason, federal authority had become fundamentally illegitimate. The normal political process — most notably elections — was hopelessly compromised, to the point where no candidate promising to roll back the size of the state could hope to win.The best solution, in Murray’s eyes, was for wealthy donors to fund a legal defense designed to facilitate a mass campaign of civil disobedience against the regulatory state. This so-called Madison Fund would defend people accused of noncompliance in court and pay any assessed fines if they lose. With enough donations, the Madison Fund could ensure that nearly anyone could disobey regulations with impunity.By the People has largely been forgotten today. It was published one month before Donald Trump descended the golden escalator at Trump Tower, announcing a presidential bid that would alter the course of history. Trump’s rejection of old GOP orthodoxies, including its libertarian hostility to programs like Social Security, suggested that Murray’s anti-government radicalism might belong to an era of the past.But the events of the second Trump term, most notably DOGE’s lawless gutting of the federal government, suggest that the book deserves a second look. Its extreme hostility to the very idea of liberal governance, its skepticism of democracy, and its faith in the primacy of the wealthy over the law all prefigured the way that Trump and Elon Musk would assail key functions of government in 2025.Moreover, it helps us understand why mainstream conservatives — the sort who pledge unending fealty to the Constitution and the founders — have been so okay with all of this. It’s not only that people on the right fear crossing Trump; it’s also, in part, that they share his belief that the American government is no longer worthy of respect.For if the state has become too big to command legitimacy, to the point where ordinary citizens are justified in disobeying it, then why should anyone care if the duly elected government breaks laws in pursuit of shrinking itself?By the People, explainedCharles Murray has been a leading intellectual figure on the right for a very long time. Generally speaking, his work has focused on class and race inequality in the United States — and, more specifically, with the idea that welfare programs either do little to fix these problems or actually make them worse.His most (in)famous book, 1994’s The Bell Curve, argues that much of America’s class and racial stratification can be explained by gaps in IQ — suggesting, in one of its most provocative chapters, that white people have higher IQs than Black people due to their superior genes. The book made theorizing about genetic differences between the races acceptable among certain corners of the mainstream right, paving the way for scientific racism’s resurgence in the Trump era.By the People is, in some ways, a more ambitious book than The Bell Curve. Moving away from social policy, Murray strays into the realm of political theory — arguing not just that liberal policies have bad consequences, but that that they are fundamentally illegitimate uses of state power. The concept of “legitimacy,” generally speaking, refers to the principle used to assess whether a particular government is morally justified in exercising political power. In Murray’s view, the key principle is government non-interference in personal affairs. The modern regulatory state, and its involvement in life ranging from setting education policy to licensing barber shops, has become so corrosive of American liberty that it cannot be seen as legitimate.“It is part of our national catechism that government is instituted to protect our unalienable rights, and that when it becomes destructive of those rights, the reason for our allegiance is gone,” he writes. “At that point, revolution is not treason, but the people’s right.”Charles Murray speaking at the 2013 FreedomFest in Las Vegas. Gage Skidmore/Flickr Creative CommonsTo support this claim, he quotes a list of luminaries — ranging from Alexis de Tocqueville to Grover Cleveland — to argue that Americans have almost always believed in a state whose legitimacy is grounded in self-limitation.“The federal government lost its legitimacy in theory during the constitutional revolution of 1937-1942, lost its legitimacy in practice during the 1960s, and it has been downhill ever since,” he writes. “It is by that historical understanding that many of us who are devoted to limited government have thought of ourselves as living in a post-American country, governed by people who mouth the clichés about America as the land of the free without understanding what freedom means.”It may occur to you, at this point, that Murray has a democracy problem. Very few Americans actually agree with this libertarian vision of the American state, and they express that disagreement by electing non-libertarian politicians. In a democracy, the key principle of legitimacy is not libertarian theories of rights but rather popular sovereignty. It is the people, collectively, who decide on the limits of power — under conditions of free debate and exercised within constitutional constraints. If the people think the regulatory state is legitimate, why should Charles Murray and his libertarian friends get to ignore the laws that everyone else voted for?By the People offers two contradictory answers to this question. The first is that the people really have turned on the government, a big claim Murray supports with data showing a consistent decline in trust in government over the years. But this is measuring something different than basic legitimacy. Moreover, Murray once again has a democracy problem. If voters really were so furious about big government that they believed the entire state was illegitimate, then why aren’t radical anti-government politicians winning in landslides? To this, we have Murray’s second answer: that the people are bought off. They have become so dependent on government goodies that there is no hope for a return to pre-New Deal America.“The proportion of Americans who depend on the federal government to put food on the table, whether through welfare, Social Security, a government paycheck, or a paycheck financed by a federal contract, will continue to increase, and it will push the Republican Party to the center in all presidential elections,” he writes.Here Murray betrays himself: admitting, implicitly, that he does not really care about popular sovereignty. He admits that people routinely choose, in democratic elections, to authorize and reauthorize an expansive state — but dismisses their right to make a choice he personally finds antithetical to liberty. He is certain his libertarian view of legitimacy is true, regardless of what the people think, and thus is convinced that people like him are justified in ignoring the law.But how could anyone ever hope to win a fight against the federal leviathan when the people have been bought off by Social Security? This is where his “Madison Fund” financing civil disobedience comes in: Murray believes that successfully defending people who ignore regulations will help others realize that a better future without government interference could actually be possible.And it all starts, in his mind, with one good billionaire.“The Madison Fund could get started,” he writes, “if just one wealthy American cared enough to contribute, say, a few hundred million dollars.”By the People as Trumpist urtextMurray’s specific vision for a “Madison Fund” was certainly idiosyncratic. But his broader argument about legitimacy was widely shared on the 2010s right, heard often among the Tea Party types who dominated conservative politics for most of the Obama presidency.Indeed, By the People was received warmly among traditional conservatives, some of whom described its wild arguments as helpfully restrained. “If you want a book that will crisply outline what has happened to Madisonian America since the Great Depression, without scaring the neighbors, it’s your lucky day,” Charles C.W. Cooke writes in National Review. Some even suggested it didn’t go far enough. Writing in Law and Liberty, Lenore Ealy argued that Murray gave short shrift to the concerns of social conservatives. And that liberal America “created for itself a soft despotism” where people from various “identity groups” wield power to silence “men and women unwilling to subsume their identity in the will of the State.” Rolling back the state is not far enough, Ealy says — there needs to be a revolution in “cultural mores” that beats back identity liberalism.By the People remains useful as an unusually clear explanation of how widely shared premises on the establishment right led the country to Trumpist perdition.It is striking that, even before Trump, the idea that the modern American state was fundamentally illegitimate was such a prevalent view among conservative activists and intellectuals. The question was not whether the right must always defer to the democratic process, but how far it might have to go to get around it.In Trump’s second term, we are seeing the fruits of this vision. In many ways, you can draw a straight line between the basic premises of By the People and Trump’s assault on the federal government. The mechanisms are very different, but the ends are strikingly similar.During the 2024 election, Elon Musk became the billionaire anti-government donor Murray dreamed of, contributing “a few hundred million dollars” to the Trump campaign. His alignment with Trump got him appointed the head of a government-slashing committee that we now know as DOGE; once in power, he and his allies attempted to gut the functioning of various different federal agencies (to various degrees of success).Elon Musk at the Conservative Political Action Conference in February 2025 in Maryland. Andrew Harnik/Getty ImagesDOGE was not an effective cost-cutting mechanism. Nor has it turned up significant evidence of fraud. What it has accomplished, rather, is make federal agencies less capable of implementing duly authorized regulations. Effectively, it’s done what Murray wanted from the opposite end: decreasing the scope of the regulatory state not by resistance from the bottom, but a top-down effort to strip its capabilities. (Nor is Musk alone in this; look at Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s firing of large chunks of America’s public health officials).The legal authority for all of this is dubious at best. Trump and DOGE have simply asserted the power to mass-fire employees and redirect congressionally appropriated funds, even though there are good reasons to believe that they do not have the legal authority to do either. Like Murray, they do not see the law as morally binding. These aren’t just simple parallels. The influence of ideas like By the People’s helps us understand why a conservative movement that once claimed to stand for the constitutional order has become comfortable with Trump wrecking it.The essential idea of Murray’s book, and much of pre-Trump conservatism, was that the federal government had become hostile to founding American ideals: that the administrative state represents an unconstitutional cancerous growth on a brilliant governing framework.“We have overseen and sanctioned the growth of an administrative system that concentrates the power to make laws and the power to enforce them in the hands of a vast and unaccountable administrative apparatus that finds no comfortable home in our constitutional structure,” Justice Clarence Thomas wrote in a 2015 concurrence. “The end result may be trains that run on time (although I doubt it), but the cost is to our Constitution and the individual liberty it protects.”If you take this position, thinly veiled comparisons to fascism and all, then the fact that Trump and Musk have frequently exceeded legal boundaries starts to look a lot less problematic. Through this lens, the administration is trying to rescue the Constitution’s original design from a liberalism that has corrupted it. Any legal violations along the way are offenses against a political order that at present does not deserve citizens’ allegiance. In February, the news outlet NOTUS asked Sen. Thom Tillis (R-NC) about the lawfulness of the Trump/Musk agenda. Tillis conceded that it “runs afoul of the Constitution in the strictest sense.” However, he added, “nobody should bellyache about that” — because “it’s not uncommon for presidents to flex a little bit on where they can spend and where they can stop spending.”Thom Tillis is not a firebreather: He’s a purple state senator widely seen as a moderate. That he would take such a permissive position on what even he admits is lawbreaking shows the corrosive influence of Murray-style thinking on the right today.By the People, on its own, may be a mostly forgotten book. But it remains useful as an unusually clear explanation of how widely shared premises on the establishment right led the country to Trumpist perdition.This story was adapted for the On the Right newsletter. New editions drop every Wednesday. Sign up here.Correction, May 21, 9:20 am ET: A previous version of this story misdescribed Trump’s 2015 descent down the golden escalator at Trump Tower.See More:

Not every client has a firm grasp on their priorities when starting a project, but the marching orders from one Central Texas couple were abundantly clear: They wanted to convert a classic car garage on their estate into a dance hall and speakeasy, creating their own social sanctuary. After enlisting designer Sarah Stacey to bring their vision to life, that “simple” project quickly catapulted into a four-year, all-encompassing design journey when the pair added the renovation of their 4,900-square-foot primary home into the scope. It was during this time that Stacey, an avid auction enthusiast, shared her passion and expertise with her clients. “Walking through auction previews is thrilling—you wonder who owned the items and how they were used. You can feel the history,” she explains. “New homes need stories; we can design an entire room around a piece. Plus, you can save a lot of money at these events.”But before the bidding wars came planning. Stacey reimagined the space that once housed the former owner’s car collection as a moody billiards club, replete with plenty of lounge seating, a full bar salvaged from a Ruth’s Chris Steak House, and vintage collectibles, including an original Jimi Hendrix guitar. To separate the dance hall from the speakeasy, she cleverly utilized an iconic British telephone booth as the secret entrance from one area to the other. A simple push of the back wall gets you in—if you know there’s a door, that is. This is a dopamine interior.... It’s immersive and just makes you happy.For the main house, the objective was to embrace the home’s original Mediterranean style, but amplify it with a series of thoughtful selections. Stacey meticulously evaluated “every single Sherwin-Williams white” to find the ideal buttery color for the main living areas (Casa Blanca, Sherwin-Williams), incorporated 200-year-old salvaged wood beams, and designed the laundry room in the spirit of a French garden, complete with an undercounter striped sink skirt worthy of a Parisian café.She then set out to blend old-world charm—like the lavishly draped canopy bed in the primary suite—with contemporary pieces, such as large-scale pendants and multitiered chandeliers. The overall design is enhanced by colorful carpets, including a striking snake pattern in the living room and a hand-tufted graphic rug in the dining area. Auction house wins, antique treasures, and Parisian flea-market finds complete this unexpected and unconventional Texas haven.FAST FACTSDesigner: Sarah Stacey Interior DesignLocation: Central TexasThe Space: A garage-turned-speakeasy with a dance hall and a 4,900 sq ft main house with 3 bedrooms, 2 living rooms, a dressing room, sauna, and wet bar. SPEAKEASYThe former garage transformed into a go-to party hub.Stephen KarlischWallpaper: Phillip Jeffries. Sconces: Visual Comfort. Bar Stools: Nior. Armchairs: Hickory Chair. Coffee table: Sunpan. Drink Tables: Robert James. The bar is from a Ruth’s Chris restaurant and has become the heart of the space. It’s where friends and family naturally gather, often ending the night belting out karaoke songs, tipsy and totally in the moment.Stephen KarlischStephen KarlischThe husband won the six Orgy lithographs by Picasso at an online auction and Stacey hired artist Elisa Gomez to paint the frames. One of the standout features above the bar table is an original Jimi Hendrix guitar—a striking tribute to the rock 'n' roll legend. A custom tufted banquette in Schumacher fabric sits alongside Robert James café tables and under Hinkley pendants for the ultimate lounge experience.Stephen KarlischSeating: Hickory Chair. Coffee table: vintage. Rug: vintage, EtsyA cozy corner of the room is designed for dance breaks, providing plentiful options where guests can sit and take five. A framed archival photograph of Jimi Hendrix features a guitar that the couple purchased for their own collection. Stephen KarlischA British telephone booth gets recast as the secret entrance between the speakeasy and dance hall. See Stacey's go-to formula for a memorable entrance below. Create your own one-of-a-kind entrance like designer Sarah StaceyFind something that resonates with you. Stacey’s clients considered a Coca-Cola machine but fell in love with this phone booth.In this case, the designer brought on a contractor to remove the back of the booth and then cleverly recreate it as a hidden door.Keep it simple with a wall panel that pushes open, or go elaborate with an engineer-approved coded release—just type in the numbers and voilà!Always make sure there’s a manual way in and out!LIVING ROOMA warm white by Sherwin-Williams complements the original stone floors.Stephen KarlischSofas: custom, in Vervain fabric. Seating: Alfonso Marina, in Pierre Frey (chairs) and Fox Linton (bench) fabrics.Vivid and bold, the living room design comes alive through a colorful carpet, highlighted by a striking snake-patterned centerpiece designed by a tattoo artist. The Picasso to the right of the fireplace went missing, but was thankfully found and now has a place of prominence.KITCHENClever storage solutions are packed in this European-inspired kitchen.Stephen KarlischRange: La Cornue. Backsplash and Countertops: Aria Stone Gallery. Runner: vintage, Black Sheep Unique. Island Pendants: Urban Electric. Island: DeVOL.  Stephen KarlischLight fixture: Vintage. Dining table: Vintage. Dining chairs: Gregorius Pineo with Pierre Frey fabric.  A prep island by Devol provides easy access to dinnerware stored behind glass doors. It’s finished with an aged copper countertop that sets off the beveled white oak herringbone floor. New herringbone wood floors add a built-in patina to this newly created kitchen. The breakfast room chairs are upholstered in Pierre Frey fabric that Stacey treated with a wipeable vinyl coating. Pendants: The Urban Electric Co.WET BARA convenient bar for entertaining in the main living space. Stephen KarlischSconces: Allied Maker. Stools: Paul Ferrante, in Kelly Wearstler fabric. Table Lamp: Sunday Shop. Wanting an option to entertain in the main house, the homeowners asked Stacey for a bar with seating and room for their collection of cocktail glasses. A mirrored backdrop adds shine and glamour while bouncing light around the room. DINING ROOMContemporary and vintage pieces make this dining room memorable.Stephen Karlisch Dining chairs: Gregorius Pineo, in Moore & Giles leather. Chandelier: custom, Apparatus Studio. Rug: Christopher Farr.In the dining room, an eclectic mix of furniture and accessories meld into a one-of-a-kind entertaining scene. The mismatched Venetian mirrors were won at an auction, the bust of David originally sat outside in the flower beds, and the painting was found online. OWNER'S SUITEA bedroom bathed in rich green sets the scene for a luxurious, serene escape.Stephen KarlischPaint color: Chimichurri by Benjamin Moore. Wallcovering: Porter Teleo. Bedframe and fabric: Alfonso Marina.Stephen KarlischLight fixture: Fortuny. Sofa: Vintage, recovered in House of Hackney fabric. Trunk: Vintage, Louis Vuitton. Inspired by kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with metallic lacquer, the Porter Teleo wallcovering sets the palette for this room. Yards of Fortuny fabric give the Alfonso Marina bed a regal air. The vintage sofa is reupholstered in a luxurious House of Hackney textile, featuring a bold, substantial trim detail.BATHROOMLavish stone and custom flooring create a one-of-a-kind en-suite.Stephen KarlischStone: Aria Stone Gallery. Vanity: Custom. Fixtures: Watermark. Sconces: Apparatus Studio.A custom terrazzo floor by Marble Buro grounds this space. Its unique coloration and less organic structure allow the marble backsplash and elaborate custom wood-carved mirrors, meant to mimic Black Forest-style design, to take center stage.Stephen KarlischStacey originally wanted the marble book-matched, but when her fabricator said the slabs weren’t symmetrical, they decided to rotate each one 180°, creating a consistently random design with even veining. Bench: custom.LAUNDRY ROOMThis utilitarian space is full of natural light. Stephen KarlischPaint: Stone Blue, Farrow & Ball. Wallpaper: Botanica Claustra by Papier Francais. Backsplash: Zia Tile. Curtain fabric: Clarence House.Papier Français partnered with Bibliothèque Nationale de France to bring back more than 60 archival prints, including this Bon factory flowering-trellis wallpaper, which turns this utilitarian space into a year-round spring jewel box. THE DRESSING ROOM The "closet" was quickly expanded to feel more like a boutique retail space.Stephen KarlischCeiling wallpaper: Gracie. Light fixture: Visual Comfort. Sofas: Mr. Brown in De la Cuona fabric and Samuel & Sons trim. Carpet: Nourison. Pillows: Dedar. Library ladder: Alaco. Hardware: Armac Martin.Stephen KarlischPaint color: Brinjal by Farrow & Ball. Hardware: Armac Martin.The entire main house and garage renovation began with a closet redesign. Stacey came to assess the closet, cataloging everything from long- and short-hang sections to shoes and bags, and it quickly became clear the space was too small. This discovery sparked the decision to expand and elevate the closet...and set the stage for a full home transformation.SAUNAThe ultimate in-home spa experience. Stephen KarlischA discreet sauna is the preferred spot to recover after a night of dancing. About the DesignerSarah Stacey is known for her artful approach to layering, creating spaces that balance timeless elegance with a fresh, eclectic edge. Raised in Louisiana and influenced by antique auctions, Southern cities, and global travel, her style embraces bold contrasts and personal storytelling. With a background in studio art and interior design from LSU, she brings a vibrant, collected sensibility to both residential and commercial projects. Now based in Texas with her musician husband and their son, Sarah’s work is infused with the same energy and joy that defines her life.SHOP THE SPACEFarrow & Ball Stone Blue Paint Color$143 at Farrow & BallItalian Venetian Murano Blue Glass Chandelier$8,250 at 1stDibsLa Cornue Cornu Fé 110 Range Matte Black$13,275 at Williams SonomaCredit: Williams SonomaPablo Picasso LithographNow 20% Off$3,000 $2,400 at 1stDibs

All images courtesy of Zimoun, shared with permission Ubiquitous Objects Transform into Ambient Soundscapes in Zimoun’s Installations May 19, 2025 Art Grace Ebert Objects often regarded as fixtures of modern life—cardboard boxes, glass cups, and plastic jugs, to name a few—become generative materials in the soundscapes of Swiss artist Zimoun (previously). Connected to small, direct-current motors, wires and strings strung across installations of these unassuming items rattle and twirl to create continuous, ambient noise. Zimoun frequently references the tension between chaos and order in his works, particularly as it relates to the relationship between the individual elements and the larger composition. For a recent project for Rewire in The Hague, for example, the artist tethered piano strings to 24 polyethylene tanks in one room and to 36 water containers in another. While the basic construction was the same, the way the vibrating wires interacted with the vessels affected their timbre. “Each of the spaces sounds distinctly different, even though the same principle was applied throughout. Both deep, bass-like sounds and very varied, constantly changing overtones can emerge,” the artist says. Exploring the possibilities of such simple materials is at the core of many of Zimoun’s works, as he shifts our perspective on their uses and functionality. Appearing animate, each object becomes an instrument in its own right, as the kinetic, often frenetic, movement of the machines transforms a wood-slatted door or metal barrel into a sonic apparatus. It’s worth poking around Zimoun’s Vimeo to explore the breadth of the installations and their subtly varied sounds. The artist has several exhibitions planned for later this year and throughout 2026, so follow the latest on Instagram. Next article

Andor‘s final batch of episodes had to walk a steady balancing act, tying together myriad swirling character arcs into the overarching looming shadow of not just the events of Rogue One, but the events of Star Wars itself. In navigating those final climactic days where Andor could be itself as well as the passer of the torch, the show managed to give us and its characters alike the endings that perhaps mattered most. Luthen © Lucasfilm It’s impossible to talk about the final arc of Andor without talking about the ending it gets out of the way first. Luthen’s long-awaited confrontation with Dedra is tragic in many ways, not just because of his choice to sacrifice himself to deny her the information she craves, but because, in contrast to the other rebellious stories we see climax here, it’s so incredibly lonely. There is no grand exit, no long goodbye—he gets a brief moment with Kleya when he sends her away, and of course, Dedra’s attempts to keep him alive make the actual moment of his end occur after the course of episode 10, “Make It Stop.” He dies quietly, he dies unable to really know just what an impact he’s about to have on the people he knew, the people he loved, the Rebellion, and the fate of the galaxy itself. But Luthen’s final moment standing, before he takes the knife to himself, as sad as it is, is also a beautiful one—one that thematically then ties the endings of the rest of the rebels across Andor‘s final act together brilliantly. “The Rebellion isn’t here anymore, it’s flown away,” he tells Dedra. “It’s everywhere now… there’s a whole galaxy out there, waiting to disgust you.” The work Luthen did may have been isolatory by design, playing cells and operatives off each other, the paranoia of all the secrets he helped keep. But as he burns brightly, for that sunrise he knew he’d never see, he is defiantly steadfast that what he has helped create has connected voices all over the galaxy. That there are, as his agents’ code phrase said, friends everywhere. Partagaz and the ISB © Lucasfilm It is this particular thematic throughline sparked by Luthen’s words that also defines the endings of our Imperial antagonists across the arc in stark contrast. We’ll get to Dedra separately, but it’s interesting that the endings we get for Andor‘s ISB apparatus—represented by her, Partagaz, and Heert in these episodes, and to a lesser extent double-agent Lonni—are lonely for very different reasons than Luthen’s was. Syril’s death on Ghorman laid the blueprint here: Andor‘s vision of the Empire is defined in equal parts the abuse of its systems for personal glorification, and the deadly threat of that system subsuming even its most ardent supports and benefactors, because that’s exactly what the Empire is designed to do. Lonni might die at Luthen’s hands, it’s implied, but he dies because his use as a tool of the system he’d turned on is over. Heert’s grand chase of Kleya—a mirror to Dedra’s obsession with Axis that he’d sneered at her for—is rewarded with K2 tossing his lifeless body around as a meatshield, crumpled and forgotten. Partagaz’s is perhaps the most deliciously bitter, not just for the system he helped create crashing down around him, but because, again, his final moments are spent realizing that the rebellion is so much bigger than the “disease” he thought he could contain and sterilize. He’s alone in a room, committing suicide, after hearing Nemik’s manifesto: he has no idea who it is. He just knows, again, that it’s getting out everywhere. Kleya © Lucasfilm Kleya’s end is not so much an end, but a continuation of a legacy that she’s followed her whole life. Luthen’s sacrifice gives her a chance to flee and tell the Rebellion about the Death Star, but it also pushes her out from under his lonely world of cloak and daggers, in a way. In the flashbacks that are woven throughout her solo mission to lay Luthen to rest before the Empire can pull him from the brink, we see her story start alone and afraid and angry—and in choosing to save this orphaned child and help her point that anger somewhere as she grows up, Luthen’s final gift to Kleya is to give her something bigger to be part of. Perhaps it’s a story we’ll revisit someday, of Kleya’s life in the Rebellion, but in this moment that set of facts doesn’t really matter, it’s that she gets to carry on his spirit as the Rebellion flourishes. Dedra © Lucasfilm It’s fitting and so telling then, that Kleya and Dedra’s final moments on-screen in Andor are side-by-side. If Kleya wakes up to on the new dawn of being part of the thing her mentor helped build, then Dedra—clad in those white-and-orange scrubs of the Imperial prison system—is to witness the structure that she helped build and champion chew her up and spit her out into some forgotten hole. We know from season one’s arc on Narkina-5 that the Empire has now designed these facilities to never really grant freedom. There’s a fascinating parallel to Syril’s own death in her ultimate punishment, the idea that her obsession with Axis, as his was with Cassian, pushed her and pushed her to a point where the Empire itself could turn on her and discard her, and she’d be too blinkered to notice it until it was too late. It’s not just that Dedra’s hoarding of information she shouldn’t have lands her in Krennic’s crosshairs, it’s her drive to get Luthen, to keep him alive once he mortally wounds himself, in the hopes that she will be rewarded regardless of any transgression she’s made to get there. That the Imperial system she believed in will work for her, rather than her for it. But the Empire exists to consume even its most loyal adherents, and so her punishment for championing it so ardently is as satisfying to watch as it was inevitable. Bix © Lucasfilm If any of Andor‘s endings might prove controversial, it’s perhaps its very last one. In some ways, Bix’s isolation from the final act of Andor (a decision she makes, but one that still takes her out of the broader fight she had previously yearned to be part of), only for her to part the series with the revelation that she’s given birth to Cassian’s child—a child he’ll never know—treats her story as less her own, and more in the service of Cassian’s. But it’s likewise also compelling that Bix is the rare character who ends the series given the chance of peace, of not having to fight and struggle. Many of the journeys that close out Andor are ones that we know will continue, and more specifically that continue in the sense that their fight isn’t over yet. That she is the final vision we have the show feels, in part, that this is what it was all for: to be free to live life with loved ones, a generation that can grow up in the hope that they in turn don’t have to fight and struggle to maintain that peace. Bail Organa © Lucasfilm But wait! Bail Organa’s journey doesn’t end in Andor. He’s in Rogue One! He’s technically in A New Hope, or at least very, very tiny atomized parts of him are! But while those stories are, chronologically speaking, Bail’s last moments in the Star Wars saga, it feels like Andor actually gives the man himself a proper sendoff—more proper than the hasty one he gets in Rogue One to go meet his explosive destiny—in his brief chat with Cassian. It’s short and sweet but laden with meaning, to give Bail a little teeth, and a moment of bonding with Cassian after their initial disagreements. We don’t ever get to see Bail’s final moments from his own perspective on screen (they’re retold, if you’re interested, in the From a Certain Point of View anthology), but giving him a goal to go out swinging feels like a fitting coda. The Stories Left Untold © Lucasfilm But for all the above stories that Andor wraps up in its last act, there’s just as many—and it’s just as important—that it leaves so many paths open. There’s characters we just simply don’t see again, like Leida after her wedding, or even further flung characters like Kino Loy from season one. There’s characters for who the story just continues elsewhere, like Cassian and K2 themselves, or Mon Mothma, last seen chatting to Vel amid the hubbub of Yavin IV, or Saw, staring down the Imperial occupation of Jedha. Some of these are famous Star Wars figures, and we know where they end up, but just as important is getting flashes like Wilmon and Dreena sharing food, or, in a grimly hilarious fashion, a drunken Perrin hanging off the arm of Davro Sculden’s wife. Perhaps most fitting then is an end we glimpse, but never get: when Cassian wakes from his slumber to go on his mission to Kafrene, he dreams of his long-missing sister. Andor‘s first major story thread, the focus of its opening scenes to put this whole story into motion, never gets resolved. Some people may be frustrated by that, in an age when Star Wars fans and Star Wars itself, at times, is obsessed with checking off the facts and details of its world. But we get everything we need to know: Cassian still thinks about her. He dies never getting the answer. We will, perhaps rightfully, never learn ourselves. Not all ends definitively. Life goes on. Even as we know the broad strokes of what’s about to go down in this moment in Star Wars, some answers are just never found. But there’s a whole texture of existence beneath that sweeping saga and those big questions, and that’s what Andor was always reminding us of. Want more io9 news? Check out when to expect the latest Marvel, Star Wars, and Star Trek releases, what’s next for the DC Universe on film and TV, and everything you need to know about the future of Doctor Who.