Panellus

The glowing mushroom has an interesting sort of hold upon the popular mushroom.  A natural phenomenon, bioluminescence has that sort of rarity and pageantry that renders is magical, luciferin-reactions-be-damned.  Be it known as will-o'-wisp, jack-o'-lantern, foxfire, or ignis fatuus, the natural lights of the night have always been portentous, heralds of good or ill, and spirits unto themselves.

The above is panellus stipticus, one of several score species of glowing mushroom known to man, in a rather wonderfully-patterned arrangement here.  Now, I need to set this pattern upon a man or woman - a simple enough task if used sparingly, for fear of creating a ruffles, glowing, green pinata instead of a tractable design; thus, the focus turns to accessories.  As an effect of such wonder and rarity, thoughts on such luminescent life turn to formal dress - a splash tie, perhaps?  No - an entire tie would overpower the ensemble in the dark, while it would pale in the light.  The next option is the pocket square - something which could easily be a simple color an pattern by day and light, and come to colored glow by night or shadow:

Within moderation, a tie, too, could work, if the glow is but a support to the body of the piece.  In the same vein, a sort of boa could serve as the same for the fairer sex, or provide an interesting touch to an elegant gown, detailed in places by black folds that later prove to be panellus plates.

The key here, as in the concept's origin, is surprise and rarity; that defines the boundary between an unbearable Day-Glo cacophony and a spirited twist.

Arthropoda

Several nights of frenetic sketching, modeling, and designing later, the legs have come together.  While there may yet be a few kinks to iron out (e.g. the effective transmission of torque from the wheel to the cranks), there is a definite shape to the thing, one which now only wants for a shell.

The previous iteration was an abomination of white plastic, an attempt to print everything in one go, and at twice the size of the current model.  The result was a terrible mess, as the 3-D printer had managed to take 11 hours to print the part, and the support raft had warped terribly, leaving the parts deformed.  Where there had been no deformation, I found that I had not anticipated the thickness of the plastic deposited, leaving the pins too large and the holes too small.

This run had its parts printed individually, with the pins speced out to radii of 1/4 mm less than the corresponding holes, which has worked marvelously, allowing the parts to join, and holding the parts together along the ridges formed by the plastic along the circumferences.  The individual parts are small, but the assembly fits comfortably in one's hand, and gives an idea of the final size - something fist-sized, yet light.

Paguro-idea

The job-hunting season approaches here.  In a sense, my classmates and I are outgrowing our old shells, and now need to select and compete for our new shells, our new selves, and, in a sense, our new homes.  But there is nothing new under the sun, and we are simply playing out our pale imitation of what has been, continues, and has yet to pass.

Consider the hermit crab.  It may be as good a metaphor for the modern student as any, choosing some façade in a panic at every new stage, and attempting to persist in it until the next stage of our growth forces us into the open, soft, vulnerable, and malleable, until we can scramble into our next identity.  And nothing is wasted - the old shells are downcycled to our eager successors.

The metaphor only struck me after my design idea, though.  For a while now, I have been extremely interested in the workings of Theo Jansen's walking linkage, and now, I have gained access to a 3-D printer (specifically, a Makerbot Replicator).  Naturally, much of my spare time has been dedicated to considering what I may make with the printer, and the idea of a toy version of the linkage came up.  However, the bare mechanism would not do - it had to have a structure, a context!

Fortunately, I found that in looking at several great animations of this mechanism, ones which, looking at only the front limbs, suggested something skittering about, some sort of arthropod.  At the same time, I was considering the benefits of such legs over wheels, and one advantage I noted was that, for every height of clearance below the axle, the mechanism needed less space above it than in a wheel.  The idea then turned to  a Jansen mechanism under a bowl - with just the legs protruding out - and the rest followed through to hermit crabs.

Now I just needed to give it a purpose.  This brings us to the jumping-off point.  These fairs generally feature  trinkets from each company as it tries to imprint its brand upon its prospective applicants; now, I can turn the process on its head with a toy of my own.

Trilobita

This is something special.  A single, simple body plan that gave birth to an incomprehensible variety, one which opened my eyes to the diversity of nature as nothing else could.  The trilobite - a world contained within a word.

Within this great range of configurations, articulations, and manifestations of the order, one combination must have sparked this idea:  a hat.  A trilobite hat.  Three lobes to cover the one over my two; creature, skull, and brain.  One year ago, I writ it warm upon the world - a felt trilobite for my head.

While there have been no predators for its armor to ward off, I am glad to say that it has performed admirably against a different killer - the cold of winter.

Pre-Cambrian Explosion

This a sort of Ediacaran.  The first signs of complex life have appeared, with but the barest intimation of what is to follow.  Although I am but the poorest guide to its evolution, I hope to bring out what designs I can from  what I may come upon in the world.

Whenever the inspiration comes to me, I will attempt to create a new design, based off of the post's subject matter.  The first is, arguably, a bit redundant, but fitting - the blog's (first?) background.