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Techtextil 2015: 1st Prize for Chromosonic!

Hungarian textile innovation laboratory EJTech won the first prize of the “Textile Structures for New Building” competition by Frankfurt am Main-based Techtextil 2015. The winning work, Chromosonic is based on a 2013 graduation project by MOME alumna Eszter Judit Kárpáti, who since than formed EJTech with partner Esteban de la Torre. We asked the two designers to give an overview on their experiences.

Techtextil and Texprocess 2015 have proven to be the undisputed epicentre for innovation in high-tech fabrics, smart textiles, new materials and processing technologies. Over 1400 exhibitors from 48 countries presented their innovations to the 29,000 visitors over the span of 4 days in Messe Frankfurt.
Techtextil, focused on the today and tomorrow of technical textiles and revealed such integrated technologies are really peaking. The serious wealth of innovative products set out to boost fields such as aerospace industry, medicine, automaking, wearables and particularly the architecture segments is stunning. It is segmented into twelve areas: Agrotech, Buildtech, Clothtech, Geotech, Hometech, Indutech, Medtech, Mobiltech, Oekotech, Packtech, Protech and Sporttech. A definite highlight was the yarns, threads, and other conductive fabrics designed to transmit data and electricity, ever engaging, with stronger momentum than ever for future trends and visions.

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So me and @wishingyoucouldshowmelove were talking about saint seiya. More specifically, about the canon ages.

I mean, Saori is 13, but Ikki is 15? But Mitsumasa Kido left on his mission of making a shitton of children AFTER he adopted Saori??? 

So, in order for the ages to make more sense, either Saori is at least 17 and the bronze kids keep their ages around 15 and 13 or…

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About free the nipple

I as a pansexual think that a shirtless man is extremely sexy. I think shirtless men are just as sexy as shirtless women. The reason men are allowed to be shirtless is because women’s sexuality is a taboo. If we’d acknowledge that women too are sexually attracted to people and we too can objectify people, we wouldn’t have to fight for this.

Mula 18

It’s not until you take of the winding roads up to the crest of bedrock that leans over the town of Mula that you can begin to understand it. Mula is the single most defendable point in this fertile rift valley in the centre of Murcia.

The first time I looked down on the town that would become my home for six years I was excited because to my innocent eyes it looked more like a town in the Middle East rather than the town in Europe. It’s far too easy to describe this is part of Spain as being on the edge of Europe culturally as well as geographically. It’s traditions, close-knit families, climate and landscape. Sometimes disguise a Region that has undergone dramatic changes since the start of the 20th century.

النساءُ اللواتي عصرنَ العنبَ بأقدامهنَّ منذ بدءِ التاريخ.
النساءُ اللواتي تمَّ قَفْلُهُنَّ بحزامِ العفَّةِ في أوروبا.
الساحراتُ اللواتي أُحرِقنَ في العصورِ الوسطى.
روائياتُ القرنِ التاسع عشر اللواتي كَتَبْنَ بأسماءَ ذكوريةٍ لكي يستطعنَ النَّشر.
حاصداتُ الشاي في سيلان.
نساءُ برلينَ اللواتي أَعَدْنَ إعمارَهَا بعد الحرب.
فلاحاتُ القطنِ في مصر.
الجزائرياتُ اللواتي يَضَعْنَ البرازَ على أجسادهنَ لكيلا يُغتصبنَ من قبلِ الجنودِ الفرنسيين.
عذراواتُ السيجار في كوبا.
عصابةُ الماساتِ السوداواتِ في ليبيريا.
راقصاتُ السامبا في البرازيل.
اللواتي فَقَدْنَ وجوهَهُنَّ بالأسيدِ في أفغانستان.

أنا آسف.

women who have trampled grapes
with bare feet
since the beginning of history
who were locked in chastity belts
in Europe
who were burnt to death
in the Middle Ages
who wrote novels
under male pseudonyms
in order to get published
who harvested tea
in Ceylon
who rebuilt Berlin
after the war
who grew the cotton
in Egypt
who covered your bodies with excrement
to avoid rape by French soldiers
in Algeria
in Cuba
who rolled cigars
on their naked thighs
members of the Black Diamond guerillas
in Liberia
samba dancers
in Brazil
women who have had faces destroyed
by acid
in Afghanistan
my mother

Forgive me

—  غياث المدهون - Ghayath Almadhoun

The day began with back pain. The previously invisible spine became bright with pain. Thoughts about inconvenience were mixed with premonitions of a hobbled future. And of death.
I’m back in the UK for 48 hours a funeral and the morning eeks.
In the shower the words I’ve written and committed to memory flows as freely as the hot water that stifles my wirey hair and warms my pale skin.
In the afternoon the family arrives and we clamber into black cars. My cousins and I joke and discuss death and ceremonies in other countries.
What is other is confused. There is a ceremony. and I speak. The words that I had in the shower must have been washed away because I couldn’t find them when I needed them:


There’s a tendency to put a value on a life once it’s over, to draw a line under it and then another line under that and make an equals sign.

To count the number of zeroes that follow a pound sign and weigh the impact on lives.

Remember her

I know we must remember her before the dementia struck and I will.

I’ll remember how she doted on all her grandchildren, carefully doling out gifts generously, but always equally.

I’ll remember the scolding I got for playing with the giant on the estate, who was all body and no brain. Unable to use his mouth to speak he used it to wail and spit instead. I’ll remember her calling my sister “mardy” or “mucky pup”, and the lectures about eating fruit and vegetables.

I’ll rember her hiding smoking cigarettes behind her back if I ran into the kitchen from the outhouse unannounced and covering mashed swede with potatoes in an attempt to prove that all I needed to do was try it.

But there’s something from her last years I want to remember.


I’m sure you can understand why I’m interested in what just survives when parts of the brain fall away. Just what was left of her as she floated away, untethered and unweighted by time and place.

It must have seemed like a dream, reoccurring hosts of characters that came to visit and comfort her and those surreal and impossible objectives that come from stress-dreams and drove her trolley-first up the wall.

Whether they were ghosts, angels, a just neuron sparking one last time before it withered away, they visited and and comforted her.

The Heart Remembers

The last parts to fade were the automatic, but the heart beats for as long as there’s blood and the heart remembers even after when the memories of faces and names, voices and places, have gone.

The heart remembers without knowing the when, the how or the why.

In the last year I was a nephew, a cousin. but always a part of the family, always seen with affection.


From Taid I learnt the power of a life lead with simple joy, of presenting the vulnerability of kindness and friendship to strangers.

From Nanna I learnt that we are hardwired to carry family with us, that they are in us no matter were we find ourselves.

The only wealth to count is the wealth of people here today and all those around the world who’d have liked to have been here.

The only weight is the weight of the impact is on our hearts.


Máté Kovács: Chance - tableware for blind people

As a graduation project of his BA studies, Máté Kovács ceramics designer (Design and Art Dep, Design Institute) created a special tableware set, keeping in mind the needs of visually impaired.

As a Bachelor of Arts I chose a dinnerware set for my diploma thesis. At the beginning of the process I aimed for a subject that would challenge me mentally and at the same provide sufficient quantity and quality of products that are sufficient for the thesis requirements. 

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