Journey's End

7 years. 12 trips. I have completed my journey book. 

Sharilyn Wright, a Canadian bookbinder at Lovely Design, makes these from vintage papers sourced from all over the world. Acts of serendipity resulted: a gatefold of Asian script coincided with a map I had of Butchart Gardens in Victoria, BC printed in Korean. A postcard map of Newport Beach fell onto a turquoise sheet of construction paper, a perfect sea match. An electricians diagram eerily resembling Central Park coincided with a trip to New York for a conference on design. And a final act of serendipity ... my latest trip was to Los Angeles; as I adhered one final coaster, I turned the page to see the end sheet is a map of L.A., which is the city my parents lived in as newlyweds. It feels like I have come home.

Though I can no longer close the book, it's durable quality holds up. And why would I want to shut this volume overflowing with memories? A mundane, yet exotic, candy wrapper from the Lan Su Japanese Garden in Portland instantly fills my senses with tea, ginger, umbrellas, and a recuperative lunch with friends. I can still smell their café. Letterpress scraps immediately conjure Oblations Press, and the hour spent rifling through their inventory. I bought my yellow Lamy pen from there, and have never loved a pen more. A doily from the Farmhouse in Dunwoody, GA brings back high tea with my sister, surrounded by fancy ladies in hats and a tea kettle buried in a crocheted cozy. A scrap of a poster of lettuce from Earthbound Farms in Carmel Valley, CA brings back walking barefoot through their chamomile labyrinth as much as it makes me think of the Steinbeck book I was reading on that same trip. I can almost feel the sun on my neck. I think I prefer memory to photographs.

Empire

New York City in October. An island between seasons; an ephemeral escape; a sublime dislocation.

Like my previous color palettes based upon travel, I use my iPhone camera; then the Pantone application to extract colors from those images; e-mail ASE (Adobe Swatch Exchange) files; and complete the project in InDesign when I return from my trip. The goal is to be open and receptive to what turns up; not to force the colors. Brownstone's are a surprising conglomeration of hues I wouldn't have selected as brick. Yet the Brooklyn bridge colors are precisely what I recall. Incidentally, the green patinas on old edifices and sculpture share a lot of attributes with the emanations from electronic signs and monitors.

My airplane reading material for this trip was Maira Kalman's illustrated edition of Strunk's The Elements of Style. I read it in anticipation of her new book And the Pursuit of Happiness. So with Maira in mind, I feel this palette could easily have come from her ineluctable and intuitive character studies. That's the thing about New York ... everyone's personality is in the foreground, but we must find something to focus on before we spin out of control. It allows you to see and appreciate everything for what it is, and then forces you to move on before you can understand it.

Millcreek BBQ

This is just a little snippet of an invitation I made for my family barbecue. You can never use maps enough in design. I had fun juxtaposing the save the date (left) against the actual invitation (right) which used a map of another sort. Liberty Park has a delightful replica of our local canyons as footpaths that empty out into a playful water feature for kids.

Sadly, the water is off right now as we are recovering from an oil spill that originated in Red Butte Creek and has overwhelmed our formerly-gorgeous city pond. Yes, an oil spill in Utah. A little solidarity for the gulf-coast states who are suffering badly from the BP spill right now, and will continue to for decades.

Building Blocks

Asked to distill the complexities of our academic medical center into a simple expression, we developed these acrylic blocks. Color coding helps the presenter gang each layer into it's obvious succession. Fractured words span each layer. The tendency to complete the puzzle, so to speak, engages the audience in learning our three-fold mission: education, which is the foundation supporting research, which translates into clinical care. All of this to bear up the health of each patient.

The reverse side of the cubes cite examples from each part of the mission. The sides have supporting photography. A companion screen presentation was made available for larger groups, or for travel.

Revinylize

Revynilize is a project by the Salt Lake chapter of the AIGA. It's one of the better concepts I've seen under the rubric of reuse—an overlooked portion of the government waste-reduction campaign: Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.

Designers love reuse, though. The DIY culture of ReadyMade magazine, and similar tribes, has been a pleasurable and inventive pastime of mine. I think the indie fashion world also makes great use out of repurposing fabric into exceptional, and coveted, commercial pieces.

Just a couple of rescued banners were converted by a local tailor into 8 messenger-style bags that are destined to be envied by U of U employees. It was a proud moment watching our local board members present the program in Memphis at the national design conference last fall. It was even nicer to have them be so eager to help get these custom-made for us. I can't wait to see the faces of the lucky few recipients.

Ode to '09

Designed to the Nines

Our third fundraising campaign for the U of U College of Nursing mailed out this week. It will start landing in homes while we're in San Francisco celebrating the award our previous campaign received. Whereas the first two campaigns were more emotional—and relied heavily upon relationships—this campaign is simple, accessible, and leveraged on a small, but specific ask: please give $9.99 in '09. (Or $99; or $999.)

Since this is our third request of the same audience, we made sure to thank them for giving already; offered them a quick status report on the progress of construction and all previous donations; and expressed the type of things just $9.99 more can provide: books and supplies, scholarships seed money; etc.

The outer envelope was designed to provoke curiosity: a hydra of 9's swarm the address field. Inside is a simple flat insert. The front side is a concise appeal for $9.99 in '09. The reverse is a collage of polaroids—the captions of which evoke project status as well as the needs of students and faculty. The polaroids float on a field of nines to both reinforce our theme, and more subtly imply the aggregated effect of thousands of donors. I designed the reverse side as a giant poster with 38 different pictures so when the parent sheet cuts down we have 16 different backs. Yet each back side covers two themes: construction, and either student or faculty needs. Each card was round cornered, like our first campaign, and then perforated for easy mail-back of the donation form.

Parent sheets were pulled during press-check as posters to hang in the various spaces our faculty and students have been spread to through this construction dislocation. Kind of a morale booster, as well as something to keep the end goal in focus.

Memphis Color Palette

I finally found a way to design on my iPhone.

My personal project, while attending the AIGA Make|Think conference, was to capture the local color of Memphis with my phone's camera. Then I used the Pantone application to isolate swatches and e-mail myself ASE (Adobe Swatch Exchange) files. My goal was to be open and receptive to what turns up; not to force the colors. And I must say I'm pleased with the results. One stream of colors is called Mistaken Reds because I found a lot of red objects to photograph, only to discover they were browns, violets, even fuchsia. The Mississippi river eluded my perception and revealed hues that were darker and greener than the silt I thought I was seeing. This palette is inspired by neon, the Lorraine Motel, bricks and graffiti, the Beauty Shop restaurant and it's tasty drink The Crush, flowers growing between benches, monuments, and maybe even a little bit of soul.

Fastenation

Designers love posters. Designers also love evidence of posters. I was mesmerized by this telephone pole in Midtown Atlanta waiting to cross the street. How many concerts, programs, lost pets, missing people, declarations, yard sales, public notices—you get the idea—have hung here? Designers also love anything that fastens. This is my ode to adhesives and evidence.

Souvenirs de Voyage

Souvenirs de Voyage, published by Chronicle Books, was a gift from my friend Heather. It has glassine envelopes to hold ephemera or press flowers to dry in, and then blank pages you can glue your souvenirs to, and write about. I don't actually take mine on trips, though. I use the envelopes and pockets to hold themed bits of ephemera until I have enough to make a collage. In a way, it's like a junk drawer full of scraps I just can't toss, yet hope to be able to use one day. This spread has two collages. One, apparently, is some bizarre ode to Mormon women. The other is a German butcher and his wife. Such is the case with collage, or souvenirs, these scraps hold deep memories: there's a box of Windsor & Newton ink that I have had since high school, scraps from a german dictionary I've carried since junior high, an Easter candy wrapper from Siegfrieds circa 2002, a scrap from a poem my sister Diana wrote, photos I bought in Colorado, etc.

Journey Book

I bought this hand-made book from lovelydesign.com. I've been using it the last few years as Postcards to Myself, a journey book wherein I write my travel itineraries on postcards and mail them back to myself. Though I always pack it, I seem to be too lazy to take my camera with me on excursions. Instead, I've taken to collecting paper ephemera, then gluing them into my journey book when I return. I fashion pockets to tuck my postcards into, like this one from Chez Panisse where we ate last December while staying with Lupé and Levi in San Francisco. I'm desperate to travel again ... it's been a year since that vacation. So I turn back to my journey book to remember previous trips: Atlanta, Seattle, Victoria B.C. I have room left in the book. Just need a ticket to anywhere.