friday's full of fine forms!

Last night I made this, partly as a component of my identity for Professional Practice class, but mostly, as an excuse to play with these, my pristinely sharp, dare I say it sexy, Gingher 5" embroidery scissors...

Which reminded me of the recent work of Susan Verheijn! Susan, you are spectacular. Please check out her Formmatic, proof that more people should play with scissors. 

true stories

Underneath the concrete The Dream is Still alive A hundred million lifetimes A world that never dies...
I'm sure many have heard of this, but a comic was made recently to be used as a tool to teach German schoolchildren about World War II and the holocaust. As generations are born and generations die, the stories of the past threaten to be forgotten. We must not forget these stories, we must not forget the past...



I love museums. and stories. and remnants from a past. Local Projects works to tell stories, and promote human connection through folkloric atmospheres and historical documentation. Our present lives are making history now, thanks to the lives of those past. How will be carry the weight of the past with us into our future realities? How will we continue to communicate a time gone by? What stories will we choose to tell? Let us charge forward, fearless and with vigor, yet let us also never forget.

"And in that flash of lucidity he became aware that he was unable to bear in his soul the crushing weight of so much past. Wounded by the fatal lances of his own nostalgia and that of others, he admired the persistence of the spiderwebs on the dead rosebushes, the perseverance of the rye grass, the patience of the air in the radiant February dawn..." -Marquez

la petite fille fatale

Another attempt at intaglio printing. There is still much work to do. Le fille de serpent? Est-elle dangereuse ou innocente? The future Phyllis Dietrichson? I am suddenly in the mood for a Double Indemnity...

subliminographical

Gasoline, cars, soda, and fast food: The American way? Apparently so dear friends. Apparently so.  

!introducing...shortbread!

I would like to introduce you to Shortbread, a shy little font in the humble beginnings of her typographic life. She had yet to blossom into full-fledged font fantasticality, so check back soon! For now, I want to pinch the cheek of her zero and her Q...

on building and destroying and building again

I will now return this book to its rightful owner. Thank you to Erik Brandt for entrusting me with depth, height, width, and structure–a Bruce Mau confection. 

funfunfun wid mondrian

 "If you look at what produces learning and memory and well-being, play is as fundamental as any other aspect of life, including sleep and dreams..."


Upon rediscovering the precise beauty of the De Stijl, I am not ashamed to admit a large amount of time was spent this morning flipping through the pages of David A. Carter's 600 Black Spots, an amazingly-crafted pop-up book meant for children, but enjoyed even more by adults. 
AirForkOne. By Sibylle Stoeckli. Sometimes it is okay to think like a child, to act like a child, as long as you remember you eat your vegetables. 

*•*•*•*•*•*

There is nothing quite like driving by this house on a dreary winter's afternoon. It's entirely hand-painted and covered in patterns, even the garage. I have been trying to get up the guts to ring the door bell and meet the sorcerer behind this enchanted little home for awhile now. Perhaps they suffer from terrible headaches...
This would be a piece by the Chicago-based artist Geoffrey Todd Smith. His precision is quite intriguing, as are his three-dimensional installations, currently showing at Hyde Park Art Center. I think I need to make a quick trip to Chicago. Perhaps Geoffrey Todd Smith suffers from terrible headaches as well...

What is all this talk of headaches, you ask? Why do I like patterns so much, you ask? Because of the science behind the beauty, the subconscious desire for systems, rhythm, and harmony. Maybe this is why I am a graphic designer...

"Self-organizing activity in vast populations of visual neurons is a prerequisite of visual perception–that is how seeing begins. Spontaneous self-organization is not restricted to living systems–one may see it equally in the formation of snow crystals, in the roilings and eddies of turbulent water, in certain oscillating chemical reactions...The geometrical hallucinations of migraine allow us to experience in ourselves not only a universal of neural functioning, but a universal of nature itself." 

Thanks to my mum for recommending this. But no thanks to my migraines, because at the end of the day you are still wordlessly awful, despite the patterns.

it's valentines day

It's Valentines Day, and you know what that means...Jens Lekman on YouTube, that's what. Thank you, Jens, for reminding me, if but for a second, that love exists in this cold cold world. I'll save some of my gumdrops for you.

what is it about brighton?

Greetings Evening Tweed! I made you some cookies because I think your work is pretty great. There seems to be a lot of young talent swimming about your neck of the pond. I wonder what Rob Matthews is up to right about now. Anyways, here's some of your decadence...Three-dimensional paper by Tom Rowe!!!

The letter E brought to you by Owen Gildersleeve!!!
Tentacles attack house by Sarah King!!!
And finally...my dream creature, the being I would become if I were an animorph, my soulmate of the animal kingdom (phylum?), also by Sarah King!!! 

fun with color at -10º

If all of the treetops were covered in mittens and caps, oh what a wonderful world it would be. 

nancynancynancy

Look what arrived via the U.S. Postal Service: 1939 Nancy Drew! The book jacket is  a bit torn but the spine is still going strong. And thus continues the adoration of my favorite super sleuth...
Inside front cover: I like the navy blue but it's no orange, looks like a woodcut?
Great illustration! It is good to know that in this latest situation of peril, even the subjects of the painting are concerned for our brave ND. We've got your back, ND. Word.

yearbook.facebook

My dad gave me his old yearbook this week, Pius X High School, Lincoln, Nebraska, the year was 1973 as Simon & Garfunkel serenaded the youth of a generation...

My dad and my mum (crazy hip then)...

My dad's best friend Bob Haggerty and his little sister Rita (she's adorable)...
Don't know these people, but wish that I did–classic awkward yearbook pics! Fantastic hair!...
This is my dad the year he went to state for cross country. I love 70s running culture. Sweet short shorts, sweet headbands, though this pic is lacking in sweet mustaches  (Go Pre!)

I've been thinking a lot about the youth of my generation vs. the youth of generations before us. It's funny,yearbooks seemed so epic then. Yet today, Myspacers and Facebookies and Bloggins have taken over. The individual has absolute control of how we are represented to the world. In 1973 you had one, maybe two pictures by which your peers would remember you. Now, we make sure our peers remember us in the way we see perfectly fit. In 1973 you couldn't upload that flattering shot of you in the mirror (I have one of those), or that really awkward one that's funny because its ironic. Bad hair day? Eyes closed? Zit on your nose? Tough shit, man. It was one picture, against the same slate grey background, cropped the same, lined up all in a row. You couldn't update a  new picture of you every week. You had no space to list your interests, your favorites, no chance to impress people with your vast knowledge of...Googling. Is all this self-representation of my generation healthy? Or is it creating a generation of narcism, short attention spans, devoid of actual human to human relations? I love Google, I love the internet, and I'll admit I like this blog. But some days I think we need to remember that being an individual is unimportant. We need to not constantly focus on what sets us apart from the rest, but rather, focus on what we all inherently have in common. I am nobody, who are you?

we become attached

On Sunday eve I made a crown to honor a dear amphibian prince who passed away. To those whose lives he touched, may you always know that your attachments towards him meant more than you realize, and that all good fairy tales must come to an end. Sleep peacefully, little g. 

and monday was a circle

I love bubble wands. Pure perfection, really.

Pie chart badges by Lisa Olausson.

With marks inspired by long-haul buss graphics, Martin Frostner reminds us of the existence beauty within the mundane. And so, as another dreary Monday rolls by,and the days turn into weeks, I am exhilarated by the promise of the passing of time, by the refusal to sleep in, lean back, and simply watch the snow fall.

anatomy lessons

Gosh, sorry to gross everyone out on a Sunday eve, I'm blushing a bit, but...EMBROIDERED ANATOMY! So pristine I can't help myself. Both pieces done by the multi-talented Andrea Dezso. Her cut-paper silhouettes are wonderful as well. 

And I happened upon this illustration I did awhile back for a hot sauce label. Felt it fit somehow. Okay, no more gross-outs for awhile, promise.