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.

Knockout of a Prize

Hoefler & Frere-Jones is the most sophisticated type foundry in America. Their bespoke families are precise and enviable. I can't think of anyone who can capture in words everything their creations convey quite the way they can. Reading about their fonts is proof that a creative brief matters, and can be achieved. The delight in reading Tobias Frere-Jones: Gerrit Noordzij Prize Exhibition is the affirmation of design as both business and art.

Finding this book was an accident, a gift. Every trip to Portland, Oregon means a mecca to Powell's Books. And they never disappoint. I made two discoveries I didn't even know were published; Frere-Jones award catalogue is one of them. The highlight of New Year's in Portlandia was celebrating with friends. The take-away, however, was this jewel of a book.

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.

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.

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.

Library Rapture

This is my favorite recurring exhibit. Every year the AIGA displays some of the best in publishing. It causes some serious bouts of jealousy, but also some serious bouts of elation. And I think this was the most books I happened to already own. Sigh, McSweeney's. Timely, since Chronicle Books just released The Art of McSweeney's, which I'm reading right now.

The exhibit is twice as fun for always being held at the U of U Marriott Library. Laurie gave me a short tour through the Book Arts Studio to see her recent letterpress project.

PDX Palette

My personal color palette from Portland, Oregon.

Like my previous Memphis color palette, I used 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 returned from my trip. The goal is to be open and receptive to what turns up; not to force the colors. There were too many nuanced greens to capture ... and trying to pin down both steel, and wool, proved it's really hard for me to let go of my preconceived notions of those substrates. This palette is inspired by Greg & Justin's house (pink vanity, tiki bar), Chinese and Japanese gardens, drippy days and drinky nights, ceramic coffee mugs and one fabulous dessert.

National Suicide Day: A Celebration

“Except for World War II, nothing ever interfered with the celebration of National Suicide Day. It had taken place every January third since 1920, although Shadrack, its founder, was for many years the only celebrant.”

I’ll let you in on a secret … I think I may be the only celebrant today. Maybe you should join in. The passage above is from Toni Morrison’s novel Sula. I discovered Toni Morrison in college … not by curriculum but by a book cover: Tar Baby. Such a bold title—with cover art reminiscent of Henri Rousseau—my curiosity was peaked. And I was instantly absorbed. By the time I had read Sula and Beloved, Ms. Morrison was awarded the Nobel Prize. She’s essentially been my spiritual matriarch since.

Shadrack is a veteran who returned from war clearly coping with what we call today Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The townsfolk couldn’t figure him out, but he was making his way the best he could. As a method to make “a place for fear as a way of controlling it”, Shadrack instituted National Suicide Day. He would walk through town with a cow bell and a hangman’s noose crying out to the citizens “that this was their only chance to kill themselves or each other.”

By this point in my life I was already leery of New Year’s resolutions. If something needed to be changed—start now. I already had enough waiting in the future. I didn’t need to plan to fix bad habits; I needed to repair them now. Nevertheless, anxiety seemed to follow me everywhere. And National Suicide Day seemed to be a potential solution.

Having practiced more than a dozen years now, what I like about the personal holiday is it’s the one time of the year I let go. Really let go of suppressed thoughts. Things we normally want to avoid. All the irrational things that we fear might actually occur if we think them. I might celebrate by writing down (or saying out loud, or screaming) everything I dread. And then go murder them. Throw them off a bridge. Toss them under a car. Stab them with sharp implements.

It sure beats a resolution because there’s nothing left to do. Yet it comes with the same accoutrements: fear, self-despisal, neglect, guilt. Like all rituals, it makes one feel better. It’s an act of engagement, release and devotion. And who knows—maybe one day after I’ve suffocated myself, shot myself, and burned myself to death, I’ll really be able to start living.

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.

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.

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.