We seem to notice technology only when it frustrates us. When it works, it’s practically invisible. So what happens if we look at tech outside its context of utility? Does it become beautiful? Creepy? Is it kinda funny? These are a few of the issues driving the work of Evan Desmond Yee, whose dystopian Apple Store is on display at Fueled Collective until the end of September. For this installation, Yee constructed each constituent piece from scratch—from the tables and shelves down to the aluminum housing around those rainbow pinwheels. We got a chance to see it and talk with Yee about kaleidoscopes, Kanye and the average human life span.

For the artsy set, there is no more traditional summertime activity than heading out of the city and taking in a musical comedy performed by Broadway talent in an old barn that has been charmingly converted into a theater. For Philadelphians and New Yorkers, a favorite destination for such outings is Pennsylvania’s historic Bucks County Playhouse, a 1790 gristmill that playwright Moss Hart and Broadway orchestrator Don Walker transformed into a summer stock theater back in 1939.

This month BCP is presenting a hilarious little musical, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. Written by Rachel Sheinkin, with additional material by Jay Reiss, and music and lyrics by William Finn, it won a Tony for best book of a musical when it opened on Broadway 10 years ago.

Hüsker Dü recorded the great punk album Zen Arcade in single takes over a 48-hour period. Jean Genet wrote Our Lady of the Flowers in prison. Richard Rodgers spurned string instruments when he orchestrated No Strings, and Hollywood’s Hays Code forced Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr to kiss offscreen in An Affair to Remember. Great artists find a way around obstacles, and, in fact, such restrictions—be they technical, societal or self-imposed—often lead to great ingenuity and inspiration.

In the 70 years since a sailor and a nurse were photographed locking lips in Times Square—an iconic moment between two strangers celebrating the end of World War II—dozens of men and women have claimed to be the kissers. The story has all the makings of a Nicholas Sparks novel, except that it’s missing an ending: We still don’t know the kissers’ identities, and, barring the discovery of a message in a bottle, a Dear John or, you know, a notebook, we may never know. To solve this alluring mystery, forensic artists have scrutinized every glint and shadow in the photograph and sifted through hours of witness testimony. When all the evidence is taken together, the list of legitimate candidates narrows to two for the sailor and two for the nurse.