An orange squeezer that looks like a spider getting ready to race away; a footstool that looks like a giant crown from a child’s cartoon; a traditional sofa collection suited for the outdoors. These are just a few of the achievements of Philippe Starck, the brilliant Parisian creator and contemporary artist. His mission: to demonstrate that what you see isn’t necessarily what you get — nor is it what you think it should be.

Re-evaluating and destroying the conventional wisdom and architectural and artistic concepts of the twentieth century, Starck would rather identify himself as a creator rather than a mere furniture designer. As pretentious as the man sounds, looks and actually admits to being, “One needs to be pretentious to create something,” he says. Starck’s design philosophy revolves around the idea that everyone is entitled to a little beauty in their lives, no matter what the cost. Hence his creations can be found anywhere from public parks to private high-scale lofts in Paris. The thematic thread that runs through his work is composed of the idea that the world needs to be a subversive place, viewed from many different angles, even if they don’t fit in the greater scheme of our daily lives. With a deep and profound respect for all that is human and natural, Starck has been on a quest to align our futures with the tools and industrial concepts that surround us today.

Following in the footsteps of his French counterparts, such as eternal fashion bad-boy Jean-Paul Gauthier, Starck finds himself to be a childish contradiction of what he creates, how he presents it and what his designs end up being. Starck can easily pontificate about the need for a more united and economically sound world for all its citizens — while presenting a collection of daily household objects that he dubs “non-objects” (things with no specific use) that resemble actual domestic items. The idea is that the individual stops in his tracks in the morning to question his surroundings as he tries to brush his teeth with his new Starck plaque fighter — which resembles a modern Elizabethan teeth-scraper more than a normal toothbrush.

There is no particular limit to the range of Starck’s creations and designs. He was first discovered in 1970 after creating a giant, inflatable dome-like house, which led him to becoming Pierre Cardin’s artistic director. Eventually, inevitably, he became the design darling of the trendiest nightclubs in Paris, then Tokyo and Madrid. Since 1979, the year he founded his enterprise, he has been delving into the industrial (upside-down looking watering cans) just as much as he has fashion accessories (a protective gas mask against a possible nuclear attack, anyone?). Then onto fortifying ginseng products, teddy bears with a head on every limb, furniture (who knew gnomes holding up a round table-top could be so cute) and a giant installation piece on a Japanese brewery that some say looked like a flame and others say was more like a giant, cartoon piece of shit.

The child in Starck is constantly provoking reaction in his surroundings, but he says it with humour, asking you to laugh with him as he tries to be an adult about his career endeavours. He is living the life of a childlike dreamer — one accomplished on a very commercial path.

In a world where everywhere you turn, either in suburbia or downtown, the same condo and loft-style home is being built, according to the same design principles conventionally taught in most design institutions. Eventually, you feel as though you’re stranded in a world that is uniform from one block to the next. Starck is a welcomed breath of fresh air and humour in our daily lives — a worthy influence for any aspiring designer-creator. After all, without Starck and his large piece of shit-flame, what else would inspire the passer-bys of the Asahi brewery driving to work every morning?

Paul McGuigan’s “Lucky Number Slevin” is a violent, raucous good ol’ time with a stellar cast. It scarcely ventures into new territory, but the way it revisits old ground is extraordinary. Unfortunately, the script is often bland and uninspired, in stark contrast to the action and storyline. Despite this, the cast carries the movie above and beyond its means.

“Slevin” tells the story of Read more »

Flipping, the un-noble art of buying a limited edition item to immediately sell it for a sizeable profit. And, in my opinion, the scourge of the toy world. Now for argument’s sake I’m going to draw a line in the sand here. This little rant isn’t about someone offering an old hard-to-find release for market value. No, oddly, and maybe even hypocritically, that I’m fine with. My gripe is with the sods who buy a release, the dissected companion being a topical example, just to flog it on eBay as soon as they get home.

Now, you can argue that it’s only capitalism. That it’s simply a case of supply and demand. Even entrepreneurial. And I’ll admit I can’t really contest these points. In financial terms, you got me beat. But, and it’s a J-Lo proportioned but, you can’t argue that it’s cool. That it’s not taking advantage of people.

Yes, I know — if you don’t like it, don’t buy from flippers. I agree and I don’t. These people make their money by ripping collectors off. That’s the bottom line. They add nothing to the process, just to their bank accounts. And while I dislike them all, the ones I really take issue with are my fellow collectors.

Make no mistake, toy collecting’s an expensive business. It hammers the wallet, so I understand the temptation. Flip a new release, and with the profits you can get what you really wanted but couldn’t afford. But it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. If everyone does it, prices are driven higher and higher. Thus exacerbating the issue.

I guess my point is, if you don’t want a toy, don’t buy it. Let someone else who wants it, buy it for the retail cost. What’s that? Oh, if you don’t flip it, someone else will. Well yes, that’s most likely true. But when they do, they’ll be an arsehole. Do you want to be an arsehole, too?
A lot of this is sour grapes. Having been shafted by price on numerous occasions, I’ve a chip on my shoulder — a fucking huge one. But I’ve stuck to my guns. I won’t flip. Not in a holier-than-thou way. Just that flipping is not what collecting is about. I have a full-time job that pays my bills. So collecting is for fun, not making a profit. Plus, in a ‘my name is earl’ style, if I screw someone over on a toy, you know my internet connection will go down just before a new release I’m dying to get drops. Karma’s a bitch, folks.

I’m lucky, I’ve got enough angles now that I can get most things I want at retail without too much hassle. And yes, building those relationships is part and parcel of being a collector. Maybe getting screwed by flippers is too, I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers.

All in all, aside from being cathartic, this is simply a heart-felt plea to look after each other. It’s hard enough with the eBay pros out there. We needn’t turn on our own. Flipping is neither cool nor clever. And to be honest, if the bubble pops on the toy world, it will be the reason why.

That’s what the sign on the door used to say…. but the way things are going, it seems as though everyone is doing the complete opposite.

So whutcha sayin’ ― there’s no such thing as originality? Nope – just that “No Biting Allowed” is supposedly hip hop’s first tenet. For vandals, biting someone’s styles or letters is some never-forgive action. And b-boys have nothing but disdain for those that imitate the moves of others.

So why is it no thang in music and the sneaker game? Cuz both are big business – and whatever sells is sure to inspire copycats. Art and (break)dance are not commodities – that’s why you don’t get paid – so originality and props are your motivation. Sneaker companies, though, are motivated by the bottom line: munne. And so, popular styles are doomed to be copied ad naseum.

Skateboarding/lifestyle shoes have made a cottage industry of this. Skate-shoe wearers (they aren’t skateboarders any more than someone wearing AF1s is automatically a baller) and extreme sport enthusiasts believe that they are being individuals and non-conformists by rocking DCs, I-Paths et al. Those cats prefer these skate brands to anything the mainstream has to offer.

The irony lies in the fact that most skate shoes are unsubtle knockoffs of old Nike designs. Every skate company existing has a Dunk-knockoff, and just recently I noticed an I-Path Dunkesque joint covered in an elephant-skin design.

Gee, wonder where I’ve seen that before? (Jordan IIIs, non-knowers) But they’re not alone – I can recall DCs modeled after Trainer Is, and another in the Dunk mold with a Jordan I colorway (white/red/black). And let’s not forget the Eric Koston signature, which has bit, in various incarnations, the adidas Stan Smith (both in perforated striping and tongue-embossed portrait) and Jordans (MJ’s number 23, for those who don’t live on earth).

But it’s not just skate companies that are guilty of these crimes. Reebok should be ashamed of themselves for putting out an AF1 bite, EVEN if that model was originally released in ’82 – but not as ashamed as the cats whut rock them. adidas is trying hard to prove they’re not lame – but things like the whole a3 technology don’t help. Am I the only one who sees this as an obvious bite of Nike’s Shox? It bears a striking resemblance at the least – and let us not forget that it trailed the originator by a large margin.

Of course, Nike is no innocent here, either. In the U.K., Stan Smiths – especially the velcro versions – are remarkably popular. So naturally, Nike put out its own white tennis shoes, replete with velcro straps and perforated swoosh. In fact, I believe every shoe company has a “Stan” (Smith, that is) – a casual tennis shoe with perforated logo on the side.

And how could I forget Phat Farm, whose horrific bastardization of the venerable adidas Shelltoe is, even now, proliferating like mice on Viagra across the continent. Of course, I don’t hold fashion labels to the same standard as athletic brands. Shoes are secondary for them, and given the trendiness of fashion it’s inevitable that hot styles get rehashed. DKNY and Fubu are just a couple that consistently bring thinly-disguised knockoffs of popular joints to an over-crowded market.

But I will not put down those bargain-brand “Air” sneakers – the modern day equivalent of skippies. These shoes are modeled after several different companies’ designs, depending on what’s out at the time. I have seen “Air” versions of 95 air max, Jordan XIIIs, Jordan XIIs, And 1s, air max CBs and Jordan IXs. If all you can afford is a pair of those, you certainly shouldn’t be judged on them, especially kids. Cuz moms somehow always gravitate towards skips. It’s when you can afford to know better – but don’t – that equates to a lack of taste.

I haven’t even mentioned the No. 1 culprit (in my mind), yet: BAPE (or A Bathing Ape) and their infamous BAPE-STARs. How can a company so shamelessly put out a sneaker that is a clone of the AF1? While the materials and colorways are certainly eye-catching, the inherent bite behind the BAPE STARs itself makes them the ultimate fashion victim.

It’s true that we live in post-modern era, where nothing is new and everything has been done before. But that doesn’t mean we should reward those that blatantly bite others. Strive for originality, or at least something not everyone else is rocking. Because the key to originality is to be yourself ― hopefully someone who still believes there’s no biting allowed.

Soul singer Roy Charles Hammond was a hugely talented singer and writer, whose ability far exceeded the moderate attention he received since his start in 1958. He changed his name to Roy C. Hammond to avoid confusion with singer Ray Charles and embarked on a career as the lead singer of The Genies, scoring a top ten hit with the track “Who’s Knocking.” He then moved on to the group Mark 4, writing and producing their hit “Honey I still love you”. In 1969 he started his own label – Alaga, based in Jamaica, Queens, NY. Alaga happened to turn out one of the most important tunes in sampling history: “Impeach the President” by the Honeydrippers.

“Impeach the President” was Roy’s response to the Watergate scandal and one of several politically-charged songs he recorded with his young backing group, The Honeydrippers. The infectiously funky track featured choppy guitar licks, driving horns, funky vocals and a sampler’s dream in the form of a two-bar opening drum break. Its crisp, punchy sound has been sampled hundreds of times since its 1973 release. One of the first uses was by Audio Two for “Top Billin’ “. They based the entire track around the drum break, giving it a very raw, stripped-down feel. More recently producer Salaam Remi used the break as the backing for Nas’s 2003 hit “I Can.”

The popularity of “Impeach the President” among producers, beatmakers and vinyl collectors has led to a dramatic rise in the price of the 45 since its pressing. It has been known to change hands for as much as $300. Just like the Winstons’ “Amen brother”, hip hop songs featuring “Impeach the President” must be in the millions, sale-wise. In the early ‘90s, record label Tough City shrewdly bought the rights to the song. Let’s hope Roy .C got a good price.

Apparently a memo was sent to North American DJs that declares hyphy mashups as the new crunk, or even, the new snap rap. Regardless of any internal communication, the message is clear: white people love trendy rap.

Caucasians loved black music before Charlie Parker played segregated shows in the American South, before the Muscle Shoals sound and way before Michael Jackson was babysitting white child-actors. Tremendous changes in civil rights happened since the Cotton Club opened its doors to all-white audiences craving black music, but the re-occurring pattern is if white people dig it, radio plays it and record companies sign it. Ultra afro-centric rappers like Talib Kweli have a not-so-surprisingly white following, yet their rap platforms speak of white government oppression and historical slights against other races, which are factual enough to not alienate white record purchasers.

Wannabe DJs relish in hype, trying desperately to be different while they follow trendsetters. In the case of DJs du jour, groups like The Rub spawn imitators from Holland to the Canadian Prairies. And while everyone is biting everyone, sub-cultures grow like flowers and racial walls are breaking down. Too bad flowers die. This rap revolution is no fallen Berlin Wall, but the onslaught of Internet publicity is a positive step into a quasi-Martin Luther King Jr. dream.

Sixteen months ago young people of all ethnicities annoyed right-minded people, or simply people with common sense, by shouting “Whut it do” as if they were teenagers in 1998, and screaming “Wassup” because Budweiser commercials said it was cool. Sure, idiosyncrasies are predestined to be lame after rap headlines deem styles played, but the bond of current status can make two of the largest bigots friends.

Twelve years ago, hyphy was limited to the Bay Area. But today, parties thousands of miles away from Oakland have sweaty bodies gyrating to a low bass sound that wasn’t worthy of play until popular DJs like Eleven started dropping hyphy mixes. And if ghostriding whips and listening to Mistah F.A.B. bring two people in Ohio together, then rap has done its job.

White, black, yellow and brown — the industry does not care, because everyone’s favorite colors are green, gold and platinum. Rap’s only sacrifices are the Three Rs: Rap, Remix and Remarket. Take the Three Rs, drop them in Iraq and maybe the Sunni and Shiite branches of Islam will stop killing each other — probably not, but the War on Terror cannot do any worse.

Bottom line, if rap trends unite the wrong side of the tracks with the O.C., then everything will not be so black and white. Before everyone holds hands like a `80s AIDS concert, people can always relay love for Lupe Fiasco to find common ground.

Today, the worldwide web is a microcosm of the hip-hop industry. Any and everybody can make a website with MySpace, youtube or similar online “communities”. Thus, it’s hard to decipher what is real from what is just hearsay.

With that in mind, I’m going to give you the best websites to check out for everything that concerns hip-hop music. To find the most recent music or anything you missed, I suggest www.hiphopdx.com, specifically its audio section. Go there at 8 a.m., and I guarantee by 8:15 a.m. someone has posted at least one new track. When Jay-Z’s Show Me What You Got leaked, it was one of the first to post it. The reason hiphopdx.com is so nice? They don’t limit their exclusive posts to just mainstream hip hop – they also feature tons of underground music.

For shopping, I recommend www.undergroundhiphop.com. First, they sell a good balance of mainstream and underground music – better than any site I’ve seen – with album snippets you can listen to, as well as track listings. Plus, they are legit, and punctual with their orders.

When it comes to dirt and the most recent rumors, deals and release dates, I direct you towards www.allhiphop.com, which parallels hiphopdx.com in its consistency with the news. They update constantly throughout the day, so it’s not just one post while you wait for the next update.

Mixtapes? This is a no-brainer. www.mixtapesusa.com has every single mixtape ever. If you happen to miss one in a series, like J. Period’s mixtape series or DJ Drama, they have them all archived so you can purchase a mixtape you didn’t cop back then because you had to pay your cable bill.

For the most links and all-encompassing coverage, I log onto www.okayplayer.com. Everything is relevant and everything on the site is relative to something. The site has become more mainstream because the Roots are not involved with Def Jam, so there has been more Jay-Z references this year than any other website I can think of. Okayplayer represents the artists that you don’t hear on the radio 24/7: artists such as Erykah Badu, Common, Dilated Peoples, Kenn Starr, Madlib, Kweli, the Procussions, the Strange Fruit Project and others. It also features recent books and events going on from NY to LA. If they could infuse more mainstream music into the site, it would be every hip-hop head’s dream come true – balance in hip hop from music to media.

So for all new-comers to hip hop on the Web, check these sites out and I’ll return with more in-depth sites to diversify your musical omnipotence.

Stay up.

During the Second World War, established artists from all around Europe such as Picasso congregated in Paris and created the Absurdist movement in reaction to the War and German occupation. This movement went on to influence the beatnik generation in North America, which motivated Warhol to create his famous Factory atelier in New York City. These movements, outspoken in nature, were very powerful awakening tools for many groups and individuals to fight against corrupted institutions, questionable war plans and human injustice. However, in this day in age of oil and nuclear wars and terror threats, these great ideas and art forms from the second half of the 20th century have died out with the plastic and comfortably commercial Macintosh generation. Where are our influential artistic groups to foster insightfulness and innovation in our minds?

Of course, there will always be individuals who, through art, will be able to express social atrocities of his or her time. But at this precise moment in this millennium, there doesn’t seem to be a strong cultural group with noticeable personalities, like those of the Absurdist movement, to help awaken the social conscience of an entire sleeping generation to the fact that things are not getting any better. Just ask the little high schooler with the groovy bangs what she is expressing when she is scribbling a Bush-like demon on her binder and she will surely shout out; “Fuck war, man!” The young student has a message, incentive and even a picture to prove it, but it is not strong enough and the student is ultimately left baffled when asked why she is right. And even though the artistic individual of this day and age does feel empowered through or from their art, as symbolic or superficial as it may be, it doesn’t seem to garner the same kind of difference or social awakening as it once did in both halves of the 20th century.

The so called Internet generation or Generation Y, surrounded by its multitude of tools, resources and mediums, should be exploring innovative forms of artistry and foster sub-cultures prone to social change, but for some reason remain boringly, and dare I say, commercially complaisant. Just recently, we have seen a clip of Audrey “Tiffany’s” Hepburn, a social and cultural activist of her time, taken from the high-fashion meets Beatnik-society musical “Funny Face”, selling the latest clothing item for the Gap in a hyped-up collage of colours and mirror reflections of the actress. Apparently, Audrey, from the grave, had to tell consumers that the skinny black pant was back. And in South Korea, reproductions of Van Gogh’s paintings are displayed on rotating plasma screens over water dispensers, filters and toilet seat warmers, courtesy of LG. Surely Van Gogh would have cut his other ear off not to hear about that.

Being pure or respectful of someone else’s art is not the cultural idea at stake. On the contrary, it is well to question previous art moguls and their significance during our lifetime. However, when art ceases to be art — when it becomes an iconic object for commercial value and loses its original meaning, then a strong tool of social activism is lost and is very hard to recover. Just ask what Dali thinks of having his paintings plastered on someone else’s computer desktop with Internet Explorer icons hovering over his melting pocket watches.

A major half of the collective cultural society, if not its entirety, is opposed to the occupational wars in the Middle East. Yet they remain as a group, though not necessarily as individuals, complaisant in regards to denouncing these war crimes through a cultural movement that would eventually change the social spectrum of our society. It is as though an entire generation prone to safer sex, recycling tin cans and toilet paper rolls, Sesame Street and ’80s nostalgia has decided to remain completely blind to what is happening in the world, and yet continue to reminiscence about the artistic movements and artistic icons of the past either on t-shirts or tattooed on their inner molars. Some would call it irony of choice. Others would rather call it pure cynicism and fatigue over trying to explore new artistic worlds. Why create something else when it has already been created, embodying the same ideals and principles one would like to convey, but displayable in funky, ironic fashions? If we are to be influenced by a commercial world, then perhaps taking a few hints from our contemporary businessmen when faced with saturated markets can be a helpful way to regain power in our artistic endeavours. We need to stop building on whatever was influential in the past and look for new sources of innovation. There most be more than irony in our artistic tool kit.

Cynicism may be the key to getting out of this artistic slump that we have slipped in. But for the moment, and until our collective cultural psyche is synchronised, I will continue to admire Picasso’s Guernica, his 1937 epic about the Spanish Civil War, proudly displayed on my shower curtain.

Brian DePalma’s “The Black Dahlia” is an homage to Los Angeles film noir. The return of noir is a thankful refuge from the teen horror flicks featuring B-list singers-turned-actresses, and the flat action movies of the summer. Autumn weather makes one feel smoky, mysterious, and a little naughty — perfect for this season’s noir films.

“The Black Dahlia,” adapted from James Ellroy’s wordy novel bearing the same name, is based on the true of story of Elizabeth Short (played by Mia Kirshner), an aspiring actress found disemboweled and sawed in half. Ellroy also wrote “LA Confidential,” which translated to film much more successfully.

The essentials of a successful noir are there: sexuality, mystery, and an ever-present L.A. mischievousness, but DePalma does little with them. One would expect that the director of “Scarface” would be able to contribute to the revered canon with refreshing insight but “Black Dahlia” falls short of expectations with a muddled storyline, often covered by excessive violence and racy sexuality.

Although sexuality and gratuitous bloodshed parallel the recipe for successful noir films, “Dahlia,” fails to measure up to the great noirs of the past. Think Roman Polanski’s “Chinatown,” with its disturbing reverse-oedipal subplot and the final scene, including the lovely Faye Dunaway shot through the eye. Unlike “Chinatown,” “Dahlia” is basic at best in its attempts. It immerses itself in lesbian relationships and fetishism without managing to make a point as to the purpose of these subplots. One leaves “Black Dahlia” feeling confused, a little aroused, but hardly entertained.

To the DePalma’s credit, his casting is substantial. Scarlett Johansson, the one remaining teen queen actress who has managed a career not overshadowed by partying, gives an honest attempt at playing Kay Lake — the prostitute turned loving, concerned girlfriend of LAPD detective Lee Blanchard (Aaron Eckhart). She’s definitely talented but the role seems beyond her grasp. Though Johansson seems a little out of her element, the first time she appears on screen one is stunned by her beauty and deep, husky voice. In a few years, she may be able to successfully play the curvaceous, sexy, yet attainable heroine roles created for her.

Hilary Swank, as the monied seductress, Madeleine Linscott, carries the weight of the movie as the classic femme fatale. It’s refreshing to see Swank dolled up and dangerous. Her fierce sexuality and unforgiving secrecy make you want more of her and her character’s storyline: a rich girl with a pedophiliac father and an alcoholic mother (Fiona Shaw, doing her best impression of Gloria Swanson in “Sunset Boulevard”).

Josh Hartnett, however, falls flat as Officer Dwight “Bucky” Bleichert, a good cop about to get his hands dirty. His character is basically uninspired and unbelievable.

Overall, it’s best to wait for “Dahlia” to hit video. It offers enough sex and violence to entertain you at home but is hardly worth pricey movie theater fees.

Toy collecting is often described as entry-level art collecting. And to a large extent, it is. Toys, like prints, are an affordable way to own limited edition pieces by artists whose work you’d otherwise never be able to afford. However, and I say this as an avid toy collector, the limited edition side of things has gained a bit too much credence as a defining element of what makes a toy desirable.

You see, whether it’s one of ten or one of a thousand, a bad toy is just a bad toy. Making it really limited doesn’t make it more of an art object. It just saves a few people from being ripped off. I guess what I’m trying to say is that you can’t polish a turd. But unfortunately a lot of collectors seem to be ignoring this fact. Don’t get me wrong — I’ve done it myself. The hype of a release gets to you. You get caught up in the moment. And before you know it, you’ve dropped far too much money on a rare edition that just isn’t that special. All because it was über-limited.

I totally understand the pleasure of low runs and owning something very few other people will have in their collection, but I think we let it cloud our judgment. Joe Ledbetter’s Mr Bunny is a prime example. The Lava Bunny was a release of 50, automatically making it the most sought-after and valuable edition. But should it be? To me, the regular yellow (run of 400) and snow blue (run of 104) editions look better and are far more representative of his paintings, and if these are meant to be an “art” toy, surely we should be all about the aesthetics?

Staying with the bunnies for a bit longer, some people will argue that fewer of the Lava edition makes it harder to get and thus the most desirable. But if exclusivity is our only reason for collecting then surely with the prices that a set of bunnies goes for on eBay, we should all be flogging them to get a Ledbetter original? A one of one. Surely that’s the ultimate prize? Or is it?

I get the feeling that a many collectors would be as happy collecting baseball cards as they are toys. For them the thrill is in the chase, and subsequent pleasure of ownership. The artistic merit of a toy, then, takes second place to its supposed rarity.

It’s funny, because if you visit any of the toy forums there will always be someone ranting about how certain companies’ edition sizes are too large now. Kidrobot being a prime example. People bitch on them all the time about how dunnies are now editions of 1000, not 250.

But think about it — were the initial low runs we remember so fondly simply due to the fact that these companies wanted to make sure they didn’t have leftover unsold stock? By bringing toy culture to the west, they took a gamble that’s paid off. Everyday more and more people are discovering designer toys, and Kidrobot et al are actively out there converting them, so they’re going to make a lot of certain figures that have the broadest appeal. That’s a fact of life.

So is it more realistic for us as collectors to demand more quality, not less quantity? New sculpts and interesting new mediums. If you saturate a market with anything, it loses its value and becomes disposable. Toys are no different. But I honestly think it’s stale and bland releases that are more likely to kill the toy scene than editions of 3000.

Let’s be honest, how many of us would really moan if KAWS decided to make 1500 of each colourway of the Dissected Companion? Larger editions – which are still obscenely small in the grand scheme of things – mean less secondary-market price hikes. And with KAWS putting out most of his stuff through his OF store, that’s got to be something most of our wallets can appreciate.

On a final note, the Kaiju Crusaders that are Super 7 have taken the decision not to announce the run sizes of their future releases. The thinking behind it being that you should buy a figure based on its aesthetic appeal, rather than it’s rarity. It’s a crazy idea, but it might just work. Imagine it, kids: buying toys because we like them, not because they’re from lower runs and therefore more eBayable. What a concept…