2019 was the year of the Pig
2019 (MMXIX) is the current year, and is a common year starting on Tuesday of the Gregorian calendar, the 2019th year of the Common Era (CE) and Anno Domini (AD) designations, the 19th year of the 3rd millennium, the 19th year of the 21st century, and the 10th and last year of the 2010s decade.
How to summarise 2019? So. Much. Good. Music. I’ve struggled to properly evaluate an overwhelming stream of releases, and my charts are still in flux. But, the year-end is nigh, so I must commit.
Six years have passed since I last reviewed the year. That was 2013; I got engaged and began to detach from the speed and distraction of design and tech, pledging to prioritise my personal life.
Another mixed year. I managed plenty of long evening runs when Geri was away, and we ran a much faster Tely this Summer, but there were too many gaps and I fell just short of 500km overall.
For too long I’d neglected this website and my other personal projects. Everything everywhere needed redesigning, restructuring, or throwing out. This year, I turned things around.
The one where they played near our house and Matt borrowed Geri’s phone! Plus, support from Jenny Lewis and some huge balloons.
If you insist your music arrive only as rented data packets, and consider physical formats an anachronism, then I guess you’re too cool to spool. Me? I’m breaking out the tapes.
O2 Ritz, Manchester. Our fifth, maybe sixth time seeing these brilliant, noisy, melodic, charming and criminally underappreciated Scots.
I was last-minute Googling decent coffee shops for our trip to Madrid when, through a random link, I learned that Guernica was on permanent display in the city. Guernica!
This week, I had the pleasure of joining polymathic designer and poet Rizwana Khan to record an episode of her all-encompassing, stream of consciousness podcast.
I spent this week in Madrid, where I attended Primer EU. With my increasing interest in futures and speculative design, I wanted to take a closer look at the community, its methods, and successes.
Having admired Eliasson’s work for twenty years, I’d expected to love everything about this significant Tate survey. Instead, I began to wonder if I’d over-invested in his ideas.
Geri Coady is a designer and illustrator (and, lucky for me, my wife) sharing her lifelong passion for Japanese culture, language, and travel. Today, her first exhibition opens in Tokyo.
The idea was to create a podcast series about sound and place, recording each episode in a different location. I assembled one episode but thought better of sharing it — until now.
Thousands of websites will be unavailable during the Global Climate Strike, with millions of us taking to the streets to demand climate justice and an end to the age of fossil fuels.
We stood before Ian Curtis' earliest handwritten lyrics for Love Will Tear Us Apart. Hurried words and edits; deeply personal poetry the resonance of which its author would never know.
We’re back from our third trip to Cinque Terre, where we celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary at the little Manarola apartment we love so much.
I’ve deactivated my Facebook account, having become deeply uncomfortable with the company’s propensity to mislead and cause harm. I just wish I could truly delete it.
Ten miles, 1:44:58. Despite the heat and me feeling a bit rough, we shaved six minutes off our previous attempt, thanks to Geri running so strong!
Redesigning in the open is daunting but encourages progress. Although I’m far from finished, the new timeline is attracting attention, so I’ve written a little about it.
Ahead of its big new Olafur Eliasson show, Tate Modern hosted a discussion about the potential of culture to address sustainability and inspire change.
Setlist and photos from tonight’s incredible show at Castlefield Bowl, Manchester.
At home, we’re asking questions about how we live, the products we use and the trail we leave. Even the cat’s getting involved, and I think we’re making changes worth sharing.
I’ll admit to being only a casual fan of Nick Cave. After two decades orbiting his work, I’ve reduced him down to a relatively short playlist. And yet, I continue to find him fascinating.
Excitement gave way to fear, but hard work and a positive community made everything worthwhile. This is what it felt like to bring back New Adventures after a six-year hiatus.
The Bodega, Nottingham
The climate emergency is dominating my thoughts. I’m questioning my own impact and increasingly eager to make a difference. Writing helps, so today I’m pinning down everything in close orbit.
To mark each trip to Düsseldorf, we've snapped a selfie at the same location. Looking at these images side by side caused me to reflect on the changes to my physical and mental health since meeting my wife.
An intimate, triumphant show from a band rethinking its process and reimagining its voice. New ground is easier to find when you loosen up and let others in.
We’ve just returned from our first trip to Suffolk, where open landscapes and abundant birdlife take centre stage and everything feels gently connected. The food’s pretty good too.
It was an honour to speak at last October’s excellent Dot York conference, invited to contribute my thoughts to the opening session exploring digital identity.
That one man should witness so many horrors is hard to process. That nations like ours continue to facilitate such atrocity and poverty is devastating.
Last night I attended the launch of Dear Nature, an important new work from renowned Nottingham artist John Newling. I was also invited to give a reading from the book.
Thoughts on the uniqueness of the Japanese konbini, the subtle science fiction of Convenience Store Woman, and notes from a recent Q&A event featuring author Sayaka Murata and translator Ginny Tapley Takemori.
My Mam always joked that in Saturday Night and Sunday Morning—that brilliant kitchen sink drama set in 1960s working-class Nottingham—his Arthur Seaton was “just like yer Dad!”