One thin line
December 8, 2010
This already isn’t going well, because when I was first inspired to write tonight’s entry I had a clear vision of how at least the first one hundred words would go, but then I had to pause to feed the cats (who are always very anxious but hardly ever satisfied) and when I came back to write I couldn’t quite remember anything,
so I sat here for a few minutes trying to recall, but then I finished my glass of crappy Pinot Noir (it was on sale for US$9 minus one additional dollar via a Facebook coupon, so I tried it because I have learned not to discriminate against wine based solely on price, as one of my very favorites is Pepperwood Grove Old Vine Zinfandel which sells for about US$8 per bottle) and decided to switch to Flying Dog Doggie Style Pale Ale which turned out to be lovely indeed even though it didn’t restore my memory—
and really, if anything, at this point in the evening contributed to just the opposite and distracted me even further, which I find to be a slight bit more of an issue as I age, especially the later the drinking goes on—aging sucks—but it did put me in a slightly better frame of mind for writing something, anything, even if I still couldn’t remember what that something was originally going to be, you know, just half an hour earlier,
which is perturbing, because I usually have a really good memory for the details of what has gone on, which any of my friends who have been annoyed by my recollection of facts can tell you, even if such remembering is in conjunction with consuming tasty beverages such as Summit Extra Pale Ale at bowling, karaoke or some such thing, but tonight I sort of lost the plan so I’m thankful that, even after I fed the cats, something jogged my memory a little bit every few minutes so that I could get this far—sort of—
and now have I just realized that I seem to have unintentionally drawn myself as Janeane Garofalo in that superhero movie (with a little bit of Amy Winehouse thrown in for good measure), and I think that’s a good place to stop.
Billy Goat Can Float
May 18, 2010
Five years, six months ago, I was in the throes of writing, designing, and producing the First Sounds and First Rhymes series. Herewith, you will be treated to a couple of examples of my stunning writing prowess.
It???s not that I mean to be facetious about what I do for a living; it???s just that I had always envisioned something a little more highbrow for my writing endeavors. On the other hand, as these books all go into school libraries and are meant to supplement the regular reading curriculum, there are some very specific guidelines that we are required to follow and constraints that we must adhere to. In that regard, these are mini-masterpieces.
First Sounds was an A???Z series in which each book dealt with a single letter or letter combination and featured words beginning with those letters. First Rhymes also covered the alphabet, but via perfect rhymes. Both series were part of our Rebus Reader line, which meant that the first part of each book was given over to our version of rebuses for six-year-olds. The second parts of the books were simple stories illustrated by photo+clipart collages.
I have always enjoyed working on the story illustrations; we make frequent use of that style. The goofy rhyming stories are fun, too. And this was back in the day when we more heartily embraced the cookie-cutter method of graphic design.
So put on your reading glasses, sit back, and enjoy.
Eva and Ethan from the First Sounds series, ??2005 ABDO Publishing Company.
Billy Goat Can Float from the First Rhymes series, ??2006 ABDO Publishing Company.
What did you want to be when you grew up?
April 27, 2010
I wanted to be a writer. Who didn???t? Who doesn???t? From childhood, I had visions of writing novels for a living. That, or raising horses. The two interests dovetailed one time only. The only novel I have ever finished was a short one about intrigue on a Thoroughbred farm, completed when I was about thirteen. When I discovered the author Dick Francis around the same time and my mother hesitantly let me buy one of his books, I thought I was in heaven. Unfortunately, my writing career did not parallel his.
As late as my seventh year in college, I still sort of thought that the writing thing might come together.??
I had an eight-year effort in getting my bachelor???s degree. My parents both zipped through in four years and were horrified when I dropped out two and a half weeks into my first semester, and not much longer into my second semester. Then I tried it out at a couple of technical/vocational colleges in the area before returning to the university for a couple of more or less successful years, if you were judging by the fact that I actually completed semesters.
I got the bee in my bonnet that I wanted to live in Minneapolis and so decided that the easiest way to accomplish that would be to transfer schools and move into the dorm. Nothing to it. But it soon became apparent that I???d have to graduated eventually and thus would have to choose a major.
What all did I pass by on the way? Communications, music, computer programming, journalism, graphic design, and a few that I???m forgetting. I eventually settled on English as my major, just English. I never had any desire to teach but I needed to pick something. I was good at reading. I???d worry about the rest of it later.
I did graduate but found that without the journalism or communications angle, there were no writing jobs. So I went back to school and ended up getting a commercial art degree from yet another technical college, and thus began my graphic design career.
I guess I lucked out, because at my current position we do most of our work for book publishers, and one of those publishers put us in charge of everything about a new imprint they created. That meant we were responsible not only for the graphic design and production of those books, but also for finding the authors. It happened that I and a couple of other people were interested in writing, and thus began my writing career.
I am not writing novels. I am writing supplemental materials for beginning readers, as in, five??? to eight-year-olds. I have to my credit such scintillating titles as It???s K, The Jelly Bean Machine, and It???s a Baby Gazelle! It gets fun when I both write and design a series (the books are always in series of at least six).
I backed into being a writer and I guess I shouldn???t knock it; I have technically achieved my desire to be an author. How many people can say that they???re immortalized in the U.S. Library of Congress? I can!
Favorite typeface: Hobo
April 14, 2010
All day long I knew I was forgetting something, but I couldn???t quite put my finger on it. About ten minutes ago, it hit me like a thunderbolt. Hobo.??
I had dutifully reported my current favorite serif and sans serif typefaces (Archer and Gotham, respectively). They are clean and modern and make any design look good.??
BORRRR-ING.
You all recognize Hobo. You know you do. You see it everywhere and it takes you right back to the groovy 1960s and?????70s. At least that???s what you think. Hobo was actually designed in 1910 by Morris Fuller Benton. I didn???t knock myself out, but after a few minutes of internet searching I failed to find much more about its history than the following:
The Hobo font is a dynamically tapering face in which all strokes are accentuated curves, achieving a superb decorative effect. Hobo almost suggests a freely drawn alphabet with its unusual robust roundness. The Hobo font was designed to be used at large sizes. It has no descenders: the lower case g, p, q and y are incorporated into the x-height. The Hobo font imparts a friendly personality to display work such as invitations, menus, signage and packaging. (reference)
And about its designer:
Morris Fuller Benton (November 30, 1872 ??? June 30, 1948) was an influential American typeface designer who headed the design department of the American Type Founders (ATF), for which he was the chief type designer from 1900 to 1937. Benton designed more than fifty typefaces, ranging from revivals of historical models like ATF Bodoni, to adding new weights to existing faces such as Goudy Old Style and Cheltenham, and to designing original designs such as Hobo, Bank Gothic, and Broadway. (reference)
Hobo don???t get no respect. In my office we joke all the time about using Hobo in our designs. And then when we???re acting out on our exasperation with client revisions, we declare that we will refine our design by outlining/inlining/adding a drop shadow to Hobo. We don???t mean it in a nice way.
I got to thinking about why we treat Hobo so disparagingly. I???m always aware of when I see it out in the wild. One of the conclusions that I drew about why I pay attention to it is that beyond its surface hokiness, it is a darned readable typeface. From a distance, you know that it???s Denny???s Doughnuts (Rockford, Illinois), or Love From Minnesota (IDS Building, Minneapolis, Minnesota), or the Copa (barely readable) Cabana (Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin), or that you should have Happy Feet (Mall of America, Bloomington, Minnesota), or that Ginny Smiths [sic] the best stand for cappuccino/coffee/milk/ice cream (Minnesota State Fair, St Paul, Minnesota). When you???re at Emo???s Dairy Mart (Peoria Heights, Illinois), reading the menu isn???t the hard part. The hard part is making a decision.
No, I think how you feel about Hobo is quite similar to how you feel about Lawrence Welk???you???re embarrassed to admit you like it because it???s so forty years ago, but there???s no denying it???s a classic with mass appeal.
Side note: The whole time I was typing this, I was totally seeing this Helvetica or Arial (or whatever my default font in TextEdit is) as Hobo. Hobo text. There is no such thing. I am hallucinating.
Click to visit my Flickr set of even more Hobo photos, which I have been inspired to take to participate in the Hobo 2010 project which commemorates Hobo???s centennial.
Refrigerator magnet face
April 11, 2010
I was very excited about doing this because the weekend before I had stumbled upon some nifty rabbit magnets at Borders and planned to use them as the eyes of the face. Then time got in the way.
For the first part of the day I was bumming because I hadn???t looked ahead at the assignment so that I could do it the evening before, and as usual I didn???t get up early enough to leave myself any extra time in the morning to accomplish it. I resigned myself to waiting until I got home after work and perhaps even until after bowling to make my face.
Then as I was digging my lunch out of the office refrigerator I comprehended that not only were those magnets suitable for face-making, they were suitable for awesome face-making. And not only awesome face-making but entire clown-making.
It was a no-brainer to use the small magnets as the eyes and smile. Then I realized that the wood-spoon butterflies would be perfect as hair. Then the felt flowers let me know that they would be just right as buttons. I added the magnetic bottle opener as the bow tie flourish.
As often happens when I am setting up my photos at the office when, you know, I should be working, someone catches me in the act and then I feel self-conscious and dumb. Sometimes I explain. Sometimes I don???t. This time I could have, but I chose not to because I don???t particularly like the person to whom I would have been speaking.
After I got some positive online comments about my magnet face submission, I decided it would be the perfect spring avatar. This evening I adapted it to the one you see on this account. I would have been perfectly happy leaving it as the magnet face, but as I enjoy seeing the face of the person whose material I???m checking out, I modified it once more to provide the same courtesy to you.
Not very interesting but there it is.
March 31
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I made a woodcut (follow-up)
April 8, 2010
If you have been following this blog for three or more months, maybe you remember that Christmas weekend I went on about having done a woodcut. At the time, I didn’t want to reveal the picture, because the person for whom it was intended had yet to see it. That moment of suspense passed, and I can now reveal what was originally redacted.
It is this, readers, another version of My Rabbit, and here is a picture of it. It’s the third unframed original woodcut taped to my front room wall. One of these days I should take care of that.
March 14
Mail a random person a cryptic letter
April 7, 2010
I had grand intentions of pointing to a name in the phone book and mailing a piece of paper through the USPS. (Phone book, huh? Does anybody even use a paper phone book any more?) But then as usual, I ran out of time and took the easy way out, doing it online. I did it twice, each time with the emphasis on one aspect over the other.
My first cryptic note was, I feel, the more cryptic of the two, as it was a response to the cryptic note that had been sent to me. The sender explained his selection process: “This message sent to a recipient I determined randomly from a list of people who were most likely to not reply “wtf” Fortunately, I did not wonder wtf and instead found a translator with which to craft my reply.
Later in the day, I received another cryptic note: “Zegabee-dash-coovran-dos-leek-va-ich-nop-hu-8797-hay-deek-dosh.” I initially thought it was a cryptogram like a few other notes had been, but it looked too much like actual language. I briefly though that maybe it was an elaborate anagram as the sender was British. I searched for the entire phrase and found nothing, so I searched in smaller and smaller chunks. Eventually (I don’t remember how, because I’m unable to recreate the search results now) I got to the lycaeum.org website. What I saw there looked very much like the cryptic note I received. When I entered any of the words in my message in the Search box, it seemed to generate a page based on that word. Weird, and interesting. Thanks, Jack!
The second cryptic note I sent was not so cryptic, but it was to a random person. A truly random person. I found an online name generator, entered the minimum parameters, and got a name: Ella J. Harrison. I performed a Google search for Ella Harrison (okay, you sticklers, my computer performed the actual search) and clicked on the first result. That took me to a seemingly regular person on Facebook with about a thousand friends, so I was hoping she’d be receptive to my overture.
I posted my not very cryptic note to Ms. Harrison: “I used a random name generator to make a name. Then I did a Google search on that name. Yours was the first result listed, so you’re the lucky one! If you’d like to know what I’m up to, please visit this link. It’s good, clean, creative fun!”
She has not responded.
March 12
It was a dark and stormy night ???
March 16, 2010
Tonight I present a group writing effort, courtesy of the TweakToday community. Our mission was to write a story by building on the previous submission. We have a little grey goose who just wants fast internet but has to battle an army of super-beavers by channeling her inner llama. Contributors are credited at the end.
Once upon a time in a small corner of the interweb
…there lived a small gray goose that was stuck in the land of dial-up internet access…
but one day that little goose was gonna get the biggest and baddest broadband connection available, then and only then he would be webmaster of….
the entire pond, the rest of the ducks would be her minions, if only she could defeat the evil…
General Beaver and his army of chipmunks, navy of otters, and airforce of hawks. His life mission was to….
…stop the number 1 cause of beaver deaths. Falling trees!
But the ducks interfered with his mission, as they were against cutting the trees that surround the pond.
In order to fight back, the ducks had to arm themselves. They strapped on …
fricken laserbeams.. That’s right, austin powers might have failed, but the ducks wouldn’t. They…
believed in the words of this charismatic leader. She, the enemy of half measures and weak decisions, would lead them to a paradise of lightening-fast internet connectivity- but they had to earn it first, and they knew the likely cost. Together they…
took aim at the beaver dam and prepared to fire but out of nowhere three giant…
super beavers stepped out of the forest. Paws beating their chests, chanting their creepy, awe inspiring, hold to the bottom of your seat chant that went something like
Beaver two, beaver one, Let’s all have some beaver fun!
Beaver four, beaver three, Let’s climb up the beaver tree!
Beaver five, beaver six, Let’s go get our beaver sticks!
Beaver eight, beaver seven, Let’s all go to beaver heaven!
Beaver ten, beaver nine, STOP! It’s beaver time!
but then the ducks responded…
In disbelief knowing that they were out gunned. The only means for victory would be to travel to Hollywood forest and summon the invisible swordsmen so that…
they would be given the knowledge of how to defeat the giant beavers. Meanwhile, the small gray goose had an idea and googled…
to find a gaggle of more geese to support the ducks in the effort. But her 128k modem dropped the connection so instead she had to …
use a much more reliable source of communication- the carrier pigeon. She enlisted the help of her winged comrades to call upon the council of seven Anatidae Elders- the great geese of yore whose knowledge, wisdom and power were her only hope against the toothy menace. The elders responded…
in their ancient and arcane dialect that victory favoured the bold, so taking her mighty asparagus spear in her beak, and feeling a spirited wind in her feathers…
she flew through the netherworld of dark cable features and foggy grey bottoms to find the information that
her ancestors had been right – she was not a goose afterall, but a…
llama, transformed by a curse years before. How fortuitous it was then, that the ducks returned just as this was revealed to her to inform her that the invisible swordsmen had revealed the super-beavers only weakness- that most awesome and terrifying of creatures- none other than the llama.
As the ducks then walked away to prepare for the awesome battle that awaited her father emerged from the woodlands behind her. The same man that vanished on that December 26th night some ten years previously…
, he explained that he went out to buy some smokes and got lost in a blizzard. but she did not believe him because…
his eyes had that same smokey haze they had when he told her mother he would be back soon, he was just going to the 7Eleven for a pack, she replied: “……
“don’t bother me with your nonsense. I’m busy learning on my abacus and drinking scotch.” The man continued out wondering about ducks and geese that lay ahead.
And at that very point in time, the gray goose realized that she had to channel her inner llama, the llama that she used to be. This was the only way to defeat the Beavers.
She pawed her webbed foot on the ground and waddled up to the first Super Beaver. She stared him in the eye. She took one, two, three deep breaths, and from the depths of her goosey innards expelled a giant, gooey spitball at the Beaver. The Beaver clawed at his eyes and cried out …
“Gross!” Little did he realize the true consequences the spitball would have. In a matter of seconds,
The beaver from his disintegrated eye pulled out a weapon of mass destruction. The very much feared
ocular dribble cannon… he took aim and…
tried to fire at the goose, but the spitball goo had quickly solidified, causing the ocular dribble cannon to backfire into the Beaver’s head. The Beaver
Beavers head exploded and his brains covered his tribe. With pure evil and anger flowing through the tribes veins they…
lost their self-control and blindly charged at the goose, forgetting …
their lunch boxes, cool box of refreshing juices and their ethics, thereby causing…
fits with the beaver union and forcing a work stoppage. As the entire Beaver community protested their lack of snacks, the small gray goose with the heart of a llama decided to offer up a treaty by offering…
The holy grail the beavers have been searching for all their lives…
The one, the only, the Beaver-Wings of Auresteus, son of Laumos born of Ilya. Such wonderful and unfathomable a prize could the beavers hardly bear to imagine. Acquired by her bravery in the Battle of Hayden and given by the king Rawl, these wings had been her prize for years, nay decades. The young goose/llama returned to…
her community of peaceful waterfowl and revealed the treaty she had proposed to the Beavers. The elders of the noble Mallard Clan, however, were displeased she had given away such a treasure as the mystical Beaver-Wings of Auresteus. They proclaimed…
“You silly goose! You’ve given away our best bargaining chip! Now we’re screwed.” The goo-lma sighed and said …
oh dear me… dear dear me… what have i done? she reached into her utility belt and pulled out a…
peace treaty, and she asked everyone to join her around a stump, where she said…
“Dear geese citizens today is not a day for doubts, but a day for decisions. A day not for quarreling, but for rejoicing for here in my wings is a great treaty of…
the world wide web. May information flow to your heart and music stream to your brain.” And with a flap of her wing…
she launched herself into the fathomless blue sky and sped off to the south for it was autumn. They all threw up behind her a cry in joyous support of net neutrality and…
honked, “Now, may we PLEASE have a high-speed connection?”
Authors: amazingaaron, thedigitalghost, jackcomrie, a_noob, superc0w, x-u, saxchik, toyotaboy, merendis, thebradymachine, tmmh, fstopblues365, kellydna, redd141, mandy716, sayanythingbam, imryanharris, athanie, coco-tidan, chaomancer, quacorezx, nonlinear_time, philos-phobo
Illustration: athanie
???Sculpture of a Tape Hare??? by Alduct D??rer
March 12, 2010
In situations like this, I will not be reinventing the wheel. Today’s assignment was to do something unconventional with Duct tape. I didn’t think twice about how I would use this manmade wonder. I spent more time standing in Target trying to decide which of the five non-grey colors of “Duck” tape I would choose.
I was presented with flourescent purple, blue, pink, orange, and green. Given the subject matter, my first instinct was to choose orange. But as you may recall from a previous post or two, I do like my bright green. But what I learned from game after game of Trivial Pursuit is to trust your first instinct. I finally picked up the orange roll.
My orange hare is entirely duct tape. I wadded up a bunch to make a core ball for the body, then artfully wrapped strips smoothly around the outside. It was kind of interesting working in foil and tape, and fun trying to coax the desired shapes into existence, such as the haunches and the ears. They’re both pretty malleable media; tape was quite a bit easier to control than the aluminum foil as it had the advantage of being adhesive.
Okay, so I’ve created two masterpieces. Now what do I do with them? Enter Mom.
My mom is a complete and utter pushover for both rabbits and bears. She really only needed one look at Foil Hare and Duct Tape Hare perched atop my television to start gushing. Although I have piles of stuff all over my house, at times I am able to have an unnatural detachment about the possession of things (and people, for that matter). I asked my mom if she wanted them and it was a done deal. I sort of wanted to keep them because I feel sentimentally about the reason for and process by which they were created.
As my mom was preparing to leave and stashing them in her things, she was dismayed when one of Foil Hare’s ears fell off. I said that I had only required it to hold together long enough to be photographed. I had a brief moment of clarity as I separated the sentimental from the practical. On a number of levels, I am a lot better at being unemotional than my mother. But that’s a whole different subject.
???Sculpture of a Foil Hare??? by Kelly D??rer
March 4, 2010
How often have you wished you could draw? Or write, or sing, or whatever? You don’t have to be good to enjoy doing something. I fully embrace the notion of A for effort.
Take Albrecht Dürer’s Portrait of a Young Hare, for example. My former rabbit Bibi did a much better job of recreating it in the course of her daily life than I did this evening with aluminum foil and intention.
Here’s a question for those of you who live with freerange houserabbits. Have you ever noticed (if you ration their food and feed them at predictable times) that about forty-five minutes before mealtime, they start this whole stretching and yawning routine? Well, they do. At least four of my six rabbits have engaged in such activity.
Bibi was a master (mistress) stretcher-yawner. And one time, I managed fire up the camera quickly enough to capture this portrait. I think she did a far better job with her ownself than I did with foil. I entered her posthumously for the mission of standing in front of a portrait and making the same expression. How could I resist? Who doesn’t think their pet is the cutest ever? (p.s. They are!)
Later that same day, which was a Friday, I eschewed actual work work in order to create my own entry for the mission—a self-portrait in front of the artist’s self-portrait. I swear I could have kept doing it all day. And, it just happened I was wearing brown that day. Dürer’s hair is curlier, though.
It’s weird taking pictures of yourself when there are plenty of other people around who you wouldn’t mind not seeing you doing it. I managed to escaped scrutiny.
Going into the day, my plan was to make my 3D sculpture of the 2D painting with Fun Tak, because I could have worked on it discretely at my desk and nobody would have been any the wiser. But today, unlike that January Friday, work tasks conspired against me and I did not have the opportunity to goof off as much as I sometimes do. The trade-off? I am redesigning the Black & Decker DIY books that you will soon find in your local Menard’s, Home Depot, or Lowe’s. It’s the highest-profile thing I’ve ever worked on. I can live with that.
So I present you with this inadequate foil replica of a masterwork. But as I’ve declared on a few previous occasions, the fun part is that I’m doing something that I wouldn’t have, ordinarily. But I did today.
(For those of you paying attention and remembering my “What’s in a name?” entry, my D does not stand for Dürer. It’s merely a convenient coincidence.)
Kelly’s Unnecessary Blog 