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21 Aug 13:00

Delusions

by Kristin

Week after week, I think we lie to ourselves. I honestly think that's the only way we can keep doing it. We fool ourselves into believing we are invincible. We don't sign our names (not our full names, at least) and try to leave out personal details. We don't post pictures of ourselves on the website.

Some of our recipients are never getting out. Others are released before they even get the packages. Most of the people we write fall somewhere in between.

The men (mostly men) who write to us don't have a lot of contact with the outside world. One of the most common words that we see is "indigent," a word followed closely by "thank you," "bless you," and "please." We are their last resort.

For a lot of these men (mostly men), we provide the most human kindness they have seen in a while. Free books. A note. Knowledge that someone read their words and considered them, as individuals, in the search for a book, two or three.

We scour shelves and weigh our options in titles as well as the books themselves. We raise money for shipping. Someone picks up the mail. Someone else drops off the packages. A slew of people sort through the letters, and we all recruit volunteers. The whole thing gives more than the cost of a wet Wednesday night spent in a crowded church basement, which is why I keep going.

Sometimes, I worry, though. I get a little uncomfortable with the requests of me - me, Kristin - for money, more books, pictures and attention. These prisoners want more than I can give. I cannot be their only contact with the outside world. I definitely cannot send them pictures of myself.

I don't know how it happens. I tend to write short quirky notes in a hand sloppy with exhaustion. I am a bit of a spaz but maybe that makes me seem real. It makes me seem something and I seem to get more letters back than almost any other volunteer, including the pen pals. (Though, one man might get more than me; he does so much.)

"Distance," I think. "Bars."

I ignore the fact that we pack in the same place every week and we are easy to find. I try to keep the letters light and breezy. I keep volunteering.

Everyone needs someone on their side. I strive to be a person I would want in my life. I don't know what else to do. I lie to myself and pretend I am invincible.


Tag: Volunteering Prisons
20 Aug 09:00

If Cereal Mascots Had Their Own Action Figures

by John Farrier

Artist Phil Postma has a great eye for remixing pop culture. We've previously seen him create Pixar-style superheroes, Pixar versions of classic pulp filmsThunderCats characters from other cultures, and superhero-branded cereals.

For a recent project, Postma returned to his interest in classic kids' cereal brands by creating action figures for mascots and placing them in blister packs. Look, this one is mint on card!

-via Technabob

20 Aug 16:07

Greased Pole Confounds Hungry Squirrel In Search of Bird Food

by J.K. Trotter on Gawker, shared by Whitson Gordon to Lifehacker

To deal with a meddlesome squirrel stealing seed from his garden’s bird feeder, the wife of YouTube user Robert Krampf slathered Vaseline on the pole supporting the feeder. The result: A squirrel’s profound existential crisis.

Read more...

20 Aug 13:00

Endless summer

by Kristin

The sun shone when I left for work, but I carried an umbrella anyway.

"Better to be safe," I thought, knowing I wouldn't be too terribly sorry if I got caught in the rain. I never was, not even when walking to work, not in the summer.

An early morning stroll through social media made me wonder for a minute if summer weren't over already, though. Friends posted pictures of their kids ready for school. One week in. Two. Teacher friends had long been preparing lesson plans and classrooms.

"I cannot believe how fast this summer's flown!" they cried on Facebook or I imagined them crying.

I had no idea what they were actually thinking or feeling as the words left their fingers and I realized that as a single adult without kids of my own, I still had plenty of summer to go. My life could be all summer if I wanted or no summer at all. I did visit Uruguay on the first day of winter/summer, depending on one's point of view.

Late next week, as parenting friends prepare for the first three-day weekend of the school year or the last summer holiday, I will be traipsing along the Croatian coast. Enjoying the sun and sea air. Hanging out with an old friend and great travel mate.

It isn't my first or last trip of the year. It's just the one that comes next week. Before the next one. After the last one. I am still trying to figure out what I want to do over Thanksgiving (after a long weekend of walking San Diego) and Istanbul has floated as an October option.

A friend at work noted the traffic as a sure sign of the end of things for her. The end of summer. Gnarled surface streets.

"I realized this as I was walking," I observed. "Nothing changes."

She agreed. I seemed to have found the formula for an endless summer (or appreciating my life as such whether or not it was true).

Tag: Walking Summer
20 Aug 19:28

Uber Opens Its API

19 Aug 19:48

TEN IMAGES OF INSPIRATION : DONUT LOVE.

by Summer Allen


I have been on such a donut kick lately. I wake up all the time wanting to hop in my car and try out new donut shops in town (if you live in the LA-area, my favorites at the moment are here & here- I love a good classic). Not only are they insanely delicious, but just looking at them makes me happy. Be on the lookout this week- I have a little donut-inspired download coming soon.

Sources (from top to bottom): Paper & Stitch, How Sweet It Is, Francisco Marin, Paper Source, DESIGNLOVEFEST, Sweet Style Blog, Instagram: collegeprepster, Style Me Pretty, Maison Cupcake, and Studio DIY.
19 Aug 22:53

Maps of the Roman Empire

19 Aug 00:20

[berniethecatch]

18 Aug 20:40

Watch 'Laser Makeup' Transform This Model's Face In Real-Time

by Steven Tweedie

Omote projection mapping

Here's a pretty mind-blowing combination of art and technology. 

Using highly precise light projectors, a person's face can be make to look like it's being altered in real-time through "Projection-mapping."

Projection-mapping is the art of focusing light onto an object to give it the illusion of movement and depth.

It can be tough to explain, but an easy way to think about it is to remember what it looks like when someone walks in front of a projector during a movie or presentation.

Besides throwing up a hand to shield their eyes, you momentarily see their face covered by a blurry version of whatever is supposed to be on the screen.

Now imagine if that projector could track a person's face and cast extremely focused light onto them to change their appearance.

That's exactly what happens in Nobumichi Asai's new projection mapping demo, which shows how a model's face can be transformed using the technology. We first saw the video over at The Verge.

First, the dimensions and contours of the model's face are scanned into the system. The model wears those tiny dots to allow the system to track her exact movements and position.

Omote projection mapping

A digital projection can then be applied to the model's face using projection mapping (watch her eyebrows appear).

Omote projection mapping

Of course, the coolest thing about this technology is that you're only limited by your imagination. It's now actually possible to morph and transform someone's features into a cyborg, all in real-time.

Omote projection mapping

Projection mapping is frequently used by visual artists and during concerts or product demos, but it's interesting to see how precise the technology has become in smaller scale experiments.

There isn't much of a use for it, now, but in the future artisists, entertainers, and technologists will likely think up novel uses.

You can watch Nobumichi Asai's full projection mapping video below.

Join the conversation about this story »








19 Aug 00:23

Warp Speed Bubble

by swissmiss

warp speed bubble backpack

Love Love Love this Warp Speed Bubble Backpack by Madpax.

19 Aug 12:30

Filter Rainwater in a Barrel for Drinking

by Kit Stansley on Workshop, shared by Andy Orin to Lifehacker

Filter Rainwater in a Barrel for Drinking

Rain barrels are everywhere these days, and while they are great for providing water for your lawn or garden, what about drinking water? This plan for a carbon filter was pulled from a 100 year old homesteading handbook.

Read more...

19 Aug 13:35

Olafur Eliasson fills modern art museum with "giant landscape" of rocks

by Anna Winston

For his first solo exhibition, Danish-Icelandic artist Olafur Eliasson has filled an entire wing of Denmark's Louisiana Museum of Modern Art with a landscape of stones meant to emulate a riverbed (+ slideshow). (more...)

19 Aug 14:01

Here's Proof That Every Startup Idea You've Ever Had, Craigslist Already Does

by Alyson Shontell

Four years ago, Spark Capital's Andrew Parker made a chart, and it seems to go viral every year.

The chart is a screengrab of Craigslist and a list of valuable startups that attack specific functionalities within Craigslist. For example, job site Indeed was acquired for about $1 billion and it is competitive with Craigslist's "Jobs" section. Etsy is a $1 billion+ company that competes with Craigslists's "For Sale" category.

"Some of [the startups] have IPO’d," Parker reflects on his chart. "Others are out of business. If you could have made investments in all of these companies back in 2010, you’d have a portfolio of 34 companies with roughly 6-8 billion-dollar outcomes, which would likely be one of the best venture funds of the decade."

Here's the chart, below:

craigslist competition

Join the conversation about this story »








19 Aug 16:00

Chartio’s New Data Pipeline Makes Analyzing And Visualizing Data Easier

by Frederic Lardinois
pipeline Chartio, a business intelligence service that lets you explore your data from a wide variety of sources, is launching a new service today that should make getting started with data analysis and visualization quite a bit easier. Read More
17 Aug 13:00

Sunday thoughts

by Kristin

Things race through my head early on a Sunday morning.

"Sleeping in! It's… it is 6:57!" was one of the first ones followed closely by "Did the phone really ring at 4:23?"

It did.

While I never really answer the phone at 4:23 (and cannot imagine what good might come of that conversation, of any conversation so late at night that it is really early in the morning for a woman who thinks of 6:57 as sleeping in), it is somewhat flattering. I like that someone thinks of me so late that it is very early. That anyone thinks of me so late and so early.

My thoughts flit to a day well spent with walking, friends and food. If not for the first, I would regret the last but it was a 10-mile day, which lessened the guilt even as I groaned, "I ate so much maybe I should…."

Sunday wouldn't be a chance to return to a healthier lifestyle, not with the promise of potato cheese goodness and a bloody mary bar at brunch with old friends, fruit, quiche, baked goods. It was my favorite meal of the week.

"Maybe I should walk to Bethesda," I mused and realized it was a viable alternative.

I had walked to Bethesda before. I'd even taken the long way but it was possible to get there with few more steps than the ones I'd taken yesterday. I would just need to leave earlier than planned.

"Maybe I should walk halfway."

I could walk home from Bethesda or walk to the theater later. I could eat like a rabbit for supper (as I so often did). I could just enjoy the day, giving into potato cheese goodness and Sunday with friends.


Tag: Health Walking
16 Aug 23:00

Figuring Out Where To Live Using Math

An anonymous reader writes: Dave Munson was thinking about moving, and had a couple broad requirements for a new home: it must be affordable, and its neighborhood must be walkable. Price is easy to chart, but how do you compare the walkability of hundreds of cities? Simple: use math. A website called Walk Score provides rough walkability ratings, but doesn't tell you much about affordability. Munson downloaded the data that went into a city's Walk Score, weighted the relevant variables, and mapped the top results. Then he looked for overlap with the map of areas in his price range. He says, "Capitol Hill, Seattle led the pack. To be honest, I was expecting something a smaller, affordable Midwest town or something, but it the highest scoring areas were usually just outside of major downtowns. Other top areas included Cambridge and Somerville outside of Boston, and the South End in Boston; Columbia Heights, Washington, DC; The Mission District, Lower Haight, and Russian Hill, San Francisco; Midtown, Atlanta; Greenwood, Dyker Heights, Kensington, and Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn; Graduate Hospital in Philadelphia, where we used to live; Lake View, Chicago; and Five Points, Denver."

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14 Aug 15:10

Photo



15 Aug 06:36

Show HN: Detect articles with corporate sponsors

13 Aug 13:00

Mall walking

by Kristin

My grandma was a mall walker. Mall Walker. She wasn't much of an athlete at all (despite the fact that her first date with my grandpa took her horseback riding), but for a brief bit, in her 70s and the late 1990s, she turned to mall walking.

Nobody ever said what drove her to the store-laden strip for early morning exercise. She's gone now. I cannot ask her but she wasn't exactly keen on physical fitness. Maybe her doctor pushed her toward greater mobility while the social aspect must have helped. She was "social" incarnate.

She took me a couple of times. My grandma and I walked around the small that was the mall in her tiny Minnesota town, and she seemed to know the names and life stories of everyone that we met. I can still picture that gold-glinted smile that had nothing to do with exercise.

Eventually, she fell as we all do (some more than others) and the mall walking stopped. She never really walked again until she lost her license, her house and her memory to Alzheimer's. At that point, she wanted to walk as far as she could from her life. That was all she talked of to me because I was always her walking girl.

I have a reputation both in my family and out as someone who loves to walk. I am not sure if I really do but after seven 60-mile walks with another this fall and one for MS, walking has become a part of me (and my reputation). Maybe I am trying to walk out of my life, as well, or maybe I am just walking into it. I have covered so many miles I no longer know.

Yesterday, this week, last and over the past month, work has been particularly taxing. Not in a bad way. I enjoy it. It has just been hard. My brain seems to be performing acrobatics and forming new synapses even as I try to work out the best way to tackle, solve and present entirely new concepts to others.

At times, I have had to just push away from my desk. I have had to walk away in order to see things more clearly. I need space before I can return and move forward.

Yesterday was one of those days. Yesterday, it was also raining. A lot.

Normally, when I get up and walk it is along the National Mall. I work across the street and it is just so easy, beautiful and inspiring (outside of the tourist dodging), but on a rainy Tuesday, umbrellas were up and crowds were down. The heavy rain turned into a downpour plus thunder as I walked and wondered if I should just go back, but something pushed me forward.

It might have been the old woman in a rain jacket with both a cane and a toddler. It might have been thoughts of my grandmother and her mall walking. It might have been just the tenacity that so often leads others to call me stubborn. I don't know. It was probably a little of each and something else beside, but I persevered.

Cold and damp, I stepped out of the rain and into the National Gallery to spend a half hour, three quarters or so, wandering among old masters. Rembrandt. Rubens. The Americans - Cole and Copley. Flirting with Degas and Cassatt. Hanging with Calder. Refreshed, I splashed my way back to my desk.

My family and I have briefly discussed my decreasing mobility and my fear of losing myself without walking. (I currently walk five to 10 miles a day.) My mom tells me to just do what I can, push myself, walk around the block, turn to mall walking if need be. If did work for her mom, after all, if only a while. I am not sure she had the National Mall in mind but I can imagine walking there for as long as I can and maybe the rest of my life.

Tag: Walking Rain
12 Aug 13:00

Capes

by Kristin

Moving inspired a few realizations. A million thoughts, really, but a few things, in particular. I have too many cans of pumpkin. (Pumpkin? Really?) I do not need sample-sized anything from hotels. I never need to buy another t-shirt. Ever. Again in my life.

At the moment, I have a mattress in my closet. I have a closet big enough to store a mattress, which is great. It just makes it hard to actually get dressed in the morning because I cannot really see the clothes, especially the t-shirts, which are stored in a couple of drawers at the end.

The light doesn't make it that far, not with a full-sized mattress in the way, so I have given up trying to find the "right" t-shirt at any given point. I just dig around in the drawer until one feels good to the touch and then, I pull it out. Pull it on. Tackle the day in a t-shirt I kept for some reason or another. In the past few weeks, I have worn a number of old favorite tees and few of the new ones. In case of emergency, break dance! Gummy bears scare me! Best war ever!

Most of the time, I feel like I am "dressing up" when I dress. The feeling is not limited to the t-shirts, but when I get dressed for anything, work, life, I feel like I am stepping into a costume. Dressing myself for a role. In large part, I think I am.

This morning, I am wearing a fitted 40s dress with red, red lips and hair pulled back. On the walk to work, a man stepped aside, stared at me and fanned his face. He made me laugh.

When I wore retro leopard print the other night, I dressed for the jazz more than the people I knew I would see. I briefly considered a mink capelet, too, but figured the temps were too warm for that. Maybe. Just a little. But I did consider it.

I have silk dresses and sweatpants, high heels and flip flops. I have a mink capelet. I have a netted shirt to keep the mosquitoes at bay, and I love them all in their own ways.

Last night, I wore a shirt with a cape on it because I have a shirt with a cape on it. It was the one that felt right to the touch, and sometimes, I need a superhero in my life even if it's just me.


Tag: Clothes Home
12 Aug 08:02

Huge patriotic statues, crowdsourced from 3D printer owners across America

by Cory Doctorow


We the Builders creates massive, 3D printed busts of the likes of George Washington by asking 3D printer owners to print out small pieces of the overall statue and then gloms them together in large, collaged pieces. (more…)

12 Aug 21:40

Photo



11 Aug 17:00

Mike Winkelmann Has Created A Beautiful Piece of Technological Art Every Day For Six Years

by Bobby Solomon

Mike Winkelmann

Mike Winkelmann, a Wisconsin based designer who works under the name Beeple, is a rather prolific creator. For the past six years he’s created an original image every day, and this year he says he’s focusing on programs such as Cinema 4D, Octane Render, and X-particles. The outcome of this image a day endeavor is a trove of science fiction looking works that are unlike anything you’ve seen before.

I think he has a particular knack for creating shapes that feel both organic and technological at the same time. None of the pieces feel overly perfect and often have specks of dust and scuffs or signs of wear which gives them a sense of realness. If you’re interested in seeing more of his work I’d recommend looking at his portfolio on Behance.

Mike Winkelmann

Mike Winkelmann

Mike Winkelmann

Mike Winkelmann

Mike Winkelmann

11 Aug 19:23

Ex-Google Engineer to Lead Fix-It Team for Government Websites

11 Aug 13:00

One step at a time

by Kristin

Yesterday, I had nothing to do. I wanted nothing to do. I left my schedule blank intentionally because I'd had a busy weekend. I didn't expect to find myself climbing mountains (or down them, anyway).

I cleaned in the morning, but at only three weeks into the condo, there wasn't much cleaning to do. Everything had a place and fit so easily into it. I couldn't imagine that would last long but for a little while at least, it was summertime and the living was easy.

I read. I wrote. I made breakfast, cleaned up that, too, and realized that I wasn't very good at doing nothing.

Forecasters predicted "another weekend of overachieving weather in DC." It seemed a shame to miss any part of it. So, with a camera in hand, a book in my bag and no destination in mind, I started wandering. Past the Library of Congress, the Capitol shrugged into her shroud of scaffolding. The flowers. The Mall.

It was a little bit perfect. It was also just a little bit hot. My head started spinning so I ducked into a museum to cool myself off. I wandered. I wondered. I made my way to a room that I knew and loved and I spent a while sitting on a couch in front of Cézanne's landscapes, Provence, and a portrait or two. I stared at the Boy in a Red Waistcoat; he stared at me. Neither of us blinked for the longest time.

Edgar Degas' Little Dancer Aged Fourteen (now 148, give or take a little) contemplated the Four Dancers who looked so young and fresh, clustered and vibrant, and the girls in the back, the ones painted by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec waited for their own dances, a little more vulgar, a little more lewd, a little more perfect than my memory of Montmartre. A couple had stood bottomless for so very long it seemed that they probably no longer needed pants of any sort.

I only stayed an hour or so; I didn't make it very far. Picasso didn't care, blue as he was, but I did stop to see him. A little girl in a blue bow still stood waiting at a fence in Edouard Manet's The Railway when I left. Of course, she had stood there some 140 years to date. She never showed her face. I walked out of the galleries and back toward the sun, a fountain and children splashing, to real children who laughed, played and aged.

As I walked toward the exit, I made my way through the rotunda and toward the West exit. I always took the West exit, descending the wide, shallow steps inside the building, taking my time and holding the rail.

Stairs scared me. My new home felt so very liveable, in large part, due to the fact that it was all on one level. I could go to the bathroom without risking life and limb. In the old place, the stairs were steep and narrow. I often fell. Everyone fell but me most of all.

At the National Gallery, I knew how to limit the danger and increase my chances of staying upright. For some reason, though, on Sunday afternoon, after visiting old friends and thinking new thoughts, I decided to head south. To the outside stairs. The big stairs. The main ones. In the sun.

Most people wouldn't see the steps as much of a challenge. They are broad and shallow. They are steps meant to be climbed. Most people, though, haven't spent a lifetime tumbling head over heels down flights of stairs. A year ago, a little bit more, I would have thought myself silly and taken them. Yesterday, I thought myself brave, used the rail and took them anyway. It didn't feel all that different than climbing the Himalayas.


Tag: Health Multiple Sclerosis National Gallery of Art
10 Aug 13:00

Outlandish

by Kristin

Crawling into bed, I groaned and rolled onto my left side, hoping that would help. It didn't. Nothing but time would make my stomach feel better, filled as it was with buttery crackers and mushy peas, potatoes, cabbage and cheese, scotch and laughter. So much laughter.

I don't have empirical evidence to back it up but I know it is true. I never laugh as hard as I do with my book club. I can feel it in my gut.

Oh, my aching gut.

I cannot remember when I joined the group. They were already well established when my college friend joined and brought me along. They were meeting for dinner at a house on the Hill to discuss Ruth Reichl's Tender at the Bone. I brought deviled eggs (made from a recipe included in the book). I kept going back.

Years have passed. Years, a few tears, hours and hours and hours of gut-wrenching laughter. We have read dozens of books in the past decade or so (a little bit less). Fiction and nonfiction. Good, bad and boring. The only real "party" I held at my last house was a holiday book club, complete with book exchange. My new place will be so much better for that; I look forward to hosting.

Before stuffing myself silly with Scottish/English fare, I joined a couple of book clubbers for an afternoon by the pool, a grey afternoon with threats of rain, a bit of a breeze and conversation about everything and nothing at all with people I respected. I had smashed the peas early and thrown them in the pool-house fridge for later after long walks and before long talks.

"Siding with the rapist, huh?" a man asked of my peas, English as they were.

"Trying to find a vegetarian side dish outside of scones and oatmeal," I protested after a fruitless search. A vegetable-less search. A search filled with gluten, carbs and meat.

Perhaps I should have skipped the scones. And the shortbread. And those last few crackers. I knew it at the time but couldn't seem to stop - I had forgotten to eat earlier in the day and it all tasted so good!

Someone once called our group a dinner club that liked to read and it might have been true. Was that the club's dramaturge? She preceded me but we had met over the years. Nobody ever really left the group, not even when they didn't return. They lived on in our collective memory.

Last night's dive into gastronomy focused on English/Scottish fare and a discussion of Outlander, the steamy bestseller featuring time travel and feminism in the Highlands. We capped the evening with Scotch and viewing of the first episode of the Starz! series.

Tag: Books Friends
10 Aug 14:00

Greenhouse Extension Gives You Details on Members of Congress

by Dave Greenbaum

Greenhouse Extension Gives You Details on Members of Congress

Chrome/Safari/Firefox: The next time you read a news story in your browser and want to know the details about where your Senator or Congressional Representative get their campaign funds, the Greenhouse Extension gives you pop up details on their contribution history.

Read more...

09 Aug 21:46

TIL In 2011, people playing Foldit, an online puzzle game about protein folding, resolved the structure of an enzyme that causes an Aids-like disease in monkeys. Researchers had been working on the problem for 13 years. The gamers solved it in three weeks.

09 Aug 13:00

Ambushed

by Kristin

It was the singer who brought us.

"I don't really like vocalists," my friend said, the one who suggested it, "but she's got such a great name."

Iva Ambush.

The woman in question had more than her name to offer and her voice seemed more like another instrument on the stage, complementing the music rather than using it as a springboard for her own glory. Rich, deep and warm, it harkened from another time and place as the jazz played and she begged her lover to let her love him.

Of course, Ms. Ambush didn't seem the begging sort. None of the musicians did at Twins Friday night. They seemed much more likely to get their kicks on Route 66 as Ms. Ambush suggested in their next song. They smiled throughout and seemed, more than anything, to be people who loved what they did. We loved it, too.

The night celebrated the release of composer/pianist Terry Marshall's album Arrival. The CD featured five original pieces as well as classic compositions and may have made its way home in my purse. Before that, though, the songs made their way to the stage and our quiet, crowded table in a club that filled around us.

Twins is a listening club meaning that the closer one sat to the stage, the more conversation was discouraged. I had dressed for the music. We sat up front and whispered whenever we talked, which wasn't much at all. There would be time for that later. The Turkish girls and my visiting friend, my traveling friend and me.

We stayed out too late, drinking cheap wine in an expensive bar after leaving the club. Two of us would plan a trip to Nashville. All of us talked of getting together in Istanbul and the music. We talked of the music, Terry Marshall, the quartet and Iva Ambush.


Tag: Music Jazz
10 Aug 01:26

12 brilliant creative print ads

by Sabina Hona

Ads are the powerful marketing tool that has the super power to guide the audiences. Besides popularizing your brand, it can actually aware people if you make the one thinking for your audience. Some ads even have emotional values and hit the audience at one shot.

Many people suppose ads to be annoying and irritating but here are collection 12 such brilliant print ads that will change your perception towards ads. You’ll love the ads from now onwards if you have a look at below given ads. Take a look!

1. Keloptic

It simply defines that everything is clear with keloptic.

Keloptic

2. Chupa Chups: It’s  Sugar Free

The ad displays the perfect example of sugar free where even ants are not interested in lollypop that is sugar free.

Chupa Chups It’s  Sugar Free

3. Ecovia: Stop the Violence

A very creative ad that alerts every one about the harmful effects of drinking and driving.

creative-print-ads-57

4. Pedigree

A Dog Makes Your Life Happier. Adopt

pedigree

5. Nivea Night

Illustrating the shape of moon

Nivea Night

6. Weight Watchers

So what is your weight?

weight watcher

7. King Khalib Foundation

Some Things Can’t Be Covered

King Khalib Foundation Some Things Cant Be Covered

8. Volkswagen

Your Precision Parking

Volkswagen Precision Parking

9. Moms Demand Action

One Child Is Holding Something That’s Banned in America to Protect Them

Moms Demand Action

10. Pepsi

We Wish You a Scary Halloween!

pepsi

11. Nivea Men

Because Life Makes Wrinkles

Nivea Men

12. McDonald’s

Don’t you like to enjoy this Free Wi-Fi?

McDonald

The post 12 brilliant creative print ads appeared first on Design daily news.

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