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.

Between the Folds

Between the Folds is a charming—if it's appropriate to use that word—Independent Lens feature about how origami has contributed to design, math, engineering and science. It's absolutely mesmerizing to watch the constructions that can be done with a sheet of paper. The plane can become disorienting through experimentation; consequently opening up the mind to not only dream possibilities, but to an ultimate reality. They showcased organic folds as well as mathematical. I found the case-studies about how origami has contributed to air bags and synthetic proteins inspiring. What's more, the pleasure these scientist-artists convey is authentic. I think it's because they will never lose the sense of inquiry and surprise that life, and their vocations, have in store.

[Photos from PBS Web site.]

Compendium

My Christmas gift to the family. More than a decade in the making ... A Compendium of Colby Idioms is a compilation of quotes collected over the years. Most of them absurd, ridiculous, and completely out of context. Making this was a fun way to see the family personality in aggregate. Blurb made it possible. What a lucky development we have in today's technology to make manifest our creative concepts.

Illuminated Manuscript

Marian Bantjes induces rapture. Her monograph, I Wonder, brings illuminated manuscripts fully into the modern age. Marian gives a glimmer here in her TED video clip. But I recommend you buy your own copy and experience it yourself.

This volume will sit squarely with Fraktur Mon Amour in my new design as scripture bookshelf.

Original Sparks

I cannot seem to locate a seminal interview on creativity. It’s something I read in the ’90s; and I’m convinced it was by Julie Taymor. She was discussing her creative process. What I recall was she had an anthropological method of creating inside the box. By keeping boxes in her studio she would throw everything in that inspired her: a piece of fabric, books, scribbles and notes, everything. She would maintain boxes by concept, character, project—whatever is relevant. That way as she begins to push the subject she can always return to original sparks. A texture that had been overlooked until it was ready to be incorporated could re-emerge. A gesture or line that couldn’t seem to be re-drawn needn’t be lost. More importantly, this method of capture allowed her to delve back as far as she can research until she discovers the archetype, origin, the kernel of the thing she is pursuing. If by chance she is led astray, she can always undo. I love this methodology. It’s a concept that I think of several times a year. Twice I’ve heard Grant McCracken present on archetypes and it’s a topic I want to explore further. I’m interested in learning more about the intersection of gestalt, archetypes, and anthropology.

I’ve been thinking of Julie Taymor recently for having seen The Lion King musical again. Naturally it only makes me want to rewatch Titus or Frida. I love Ms. Taymor’s art brut methods. Her brazenness and nuance are covetable.

For lack of better, here is a fine interview between Ms. Taymor and Oprah. The photo above is from Sara Krulwich/The New York Times.

Exposed Grid

University of Utah Health Care's Information Technology Services hadn't updated their strategic plan in a decade. This decision-leading document needed to be progressive, confident and engaging. I felt we should be front-and-center about infrastructure by leaving the booklet's grid exposed on the cover. The spare cover also adds a nice counterpoint to the photography-rich interior. Each spread has a health care photo where technology is integral to medical practice.

The table of contents is also left exposed on the cover. The booklet is split in halves: The Introduction has an orange background; The Plan — a yellow ground with a faux watermark. The photo well and type columns adjusts with each half of the book. All images have a shiny UV gloss. UV also adorns the vertical and horizontal lines on the cover, as well as our title. It's a great finishing effect that helps emit the back-lit technology photos used throughout. Principal photography is by Kevin Lee.

Page numbers are represented in Hoeffler & Frere-Jones' Dividend, from the Numbers family. Numbers has a pixel-like quality in spite of it's low-tech origins (designed after antique perforated check writing machines) that plays well with the display face Headroom, by TypeTrust. Headroom is a mechanical all-caps face that includes a cheeky ink-trap alternate. The booklet's text face is Scala Sans.

To keep costs down, we constrained the booklet to one parent sheet. To keep the book polished, we had it perfect bound. A companion Web site can be found here.

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.

Drawing Conclusions

Give me a three-hole punch and a binder. Scissors, stapler, and a stack of my subscriptions … I am good to go. Among winter’s many graces are snowy nights stuck inside. I have been organizing the dickens out of my home. The promise of having a place for everything requires removal. I have shed two years worth of Sunset magazine by clipping and filing into binders to match their mission: travel, home & garden, food. I am transferring notes from my monthly Cooking Light into their annual cookbook. This is my ninth year of loyalty. In fact, I am donating three cookbooks other’s have gifted me because I simply won’t use them.

This year-end scrub up and filing fantasia is even more delightful as I completed today both a sketchbook and a diary. I watercolored the last page of my Moleskine notebook bought in San Francisco in ‘06. The first painting was on Labor Day ’08 and I have consistently painted an impromptu picture each holiday since. I also finished a wood-covered journal bought in New York last year. First entry was the day after Thanksgiving ’09. It brings great pleasure to crack open a new Moleskine (scheduled for Martin Luther King Day) and a new journal I bought last month in San Francisco.

In truth, I spoke to soon. I have yet to tackle the filing cabinet. I just don’t think I can do it without a paper shredder. My organizational armory is incomplete.

Recycled Leather from Italy

On a recent trip to Carmel, California I found a tiny shop called Material Goods that sold some products by San Lorenzo. They have a series of desk products made from natural regenerated leather. Scraps of leather are cut up and mixed with rubber, creating a soft, but durable, finish. The notebook I bought is dyed bright orange, which matches my Russell and Hazel calendar. I've decided to use the San Lorenzo book to keep notes on fonts and typography. I also enjoyed talking with the proprietress of Material Goods. She's been to Utah before, and told me where her favorite candy shop is. Treats all around!

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.

Cookbook as Journal

For the past decade I have been recording notes in my cookbooks. By now they are a journal of sorts; a gustatory camera.

     Bullets in the index rank my achievements. Scrawls throughout the chapters denote changes made, mistakes to avoid, and a surprising amount of recollections: the Antipasto Italian Roll-Ups were not only great for camping, but just the words Tony Grove July '04 bring a rush of memories: the toy turtle on the rocks I mistook for a real baby, and cycling for only the second time since college.

     Cookbooks also are a great way to use of many of my favorite paper products. I use Russel and Hazel sticky-notes at the back of the books to remind me "best lunches" or "worth a repeat" categories. By now, they also boast a bevy of yet-to-try dishes I'd need three more lives of cooking to catch up to. I also use Chronicle Book's fancy labels on the inside front covers to remember entire menu's. A great way to retain what would otherwise have been transient treasures, such as Jill Bliss and Lotta Jansdotter's inspired work. I even use Bob's Your Uncle page markers when cooking from multiple pages in one book. Basically, my cookbooks have transcended their utility as food resource. Sometimes they feel like napoleons of paper delights!

Agenda

I'm nearly ready for 2008. My year-end rituals include setting up the new calendar and organizing greeting cards by month. I buy too many. So if you get a birthday card from me it's probably in this photo. But at this stage I'm more pleased with the sense of order (thank you Russel + Hazel and Your M.O.) than I am with the enticing artwork. It's the crispness of the New Year that propels me forward. January will come and go like it always does, but this last week of December is like getting ready for a big event. I'm ironed, polished, and ready to be entertained.