Infinite City

Infinite City is one of those books it's practically impossible to write about, because it is too eloquent to be summarized. As Rebecca Solnit's title suggests, it simply cannot be contained. So accept these meager photographs as valentines to what has been the most enchanting read I've had in years. The most conceptually-pristine project of recent memory. The perfect integration of three passions of mine: writing, design and cartography. Each map in this atlas is juxtaposed in a manner that evokes more than their literal meanings.

Loveliest flourish of the whole book: not placing a period at the end of the essays. Rather, each essay ends with the glyph for infinity ∞

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.

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.

lost and found

found in cabinet

captured ideas and ramblings

long thought lost, returned

Flourish

Having coveted Thomas Paul's Flourish pillow for two years, I finally decided to buy it. Naturally I decide to do so even as it gets discontinued. Having made not one but two online purchases, only to be contacted later by both shops to say they can no longer fulfill my order, I panicked. But persistence pays off. Thomas Paul connected me to the Gilt Groupe for a one-day sale and I was able to get the pillow. For half price. Bonus: it's reversible. The black side was a dramatic surprise.

I adore Spencerian script, and the ornamentation from that era. Thomas Paul exploited that enchanted penmanship into a modern aesthetic. The emotional allure is inescapable. I have an ancestor who taught that style of writing and ornament. I learned it in elementary school. And now I seem to be sucker every time it turns up: in Martha Stewart Living magazine, in Alejandro Paul & P22's typography, and now ... in my living room.

Francophile

My brochures may become props in the next Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, Slumdog Millionaire) movie.

We've been asked to send collateral from University Hospital for use in the upcoming film 127 Hours starring James Franco as Aron Ralston. Ralston is the mountaineer who got stuck in Moab, Utah in 2003. Pinned by a boulder, he amputated his own arm with a knife to survive. Boyle will surely bring a lot of grit to what is already a brutish true tale.

Is it too much to dream that Franco will pick up my design work with his remaining arm? Or perhaps become a hand model for everything in my portfolio?

Photo from Franco's Web site.

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.

Bar Code Deluxe

I recently bought this gem of a catalogue from P22 type foundry. It's exquisite with it's black felt cover, deckle edges, metallic inks, die-cut, translucent sheets and Mohawk's superfine paper throughout. But the thing I had to capture is it's debossed bar code on the back. I have not seen anyone do that yet. Don't know if it's permissible, or an artistic statement on utility vs. aesthetics. Either way, it was a delight. The actual content of the book needs to be seen to be appreciated. And this collector's piece from P22 is one that will surely call back to me again and again.

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!

Life With the Pomegranate

This is a handmade book by my friend Evie Marenco, circa 2005. Evie has been an inspiration to me for years, and her book is a treasure. It's a collection of experiences with pomegranates, and how they connect her family through generations. Evie dyed the paper, printed and bound the book herself. It includes pomegranate-like beads on the stitching of the spine; and the book opens up to make a star. Between the french-fold pages are red sheets of paper so the book resembles a pomegranate itself, with the little disc's like the discovery of seeds held in the pith. Evie weaves imagery from playing cards throughout, which adds graphic impact as well as an extra layer of fun and personal meaning.

Fortune Teller

After the DaVinci notebooks were printed, I sent some copies to Red Horseshoe, since the project was sort of an homage to them, at least for me on a personal level. Robert Moore, one of the principles, sent me back a lovely note and this beautiful tin plate with their fortune teller artwork on it. It's an absolute treasure. I have been collecting their wares for years and years, even ordering direct before they had online outlets for resale. When my backpack was stolen years back, the most painful loss was my treasured Rodeo King Red Horseshoe notebook. I had been to a Patty Griffin concert the night before and my notebook had poems I wrote during the show. What a loss.

Grandpa's Art Supplies

My cousin Karen and I went out to dinner last night to visit, and to share Grandpa's art supplies. Grandpa started painting after he retired; primarily landscapes from calendars and magazines; and did so for about 30 years. I believe all his progeny has a painting to keep. The fruits of his labor are the real treat; but Karen and I have inherited Grandpa's tackle-box full of oils, brushes, erasers, drafting equipment, a nut cracker (to loosen the caps from tubes of paint) and other miscellany. Seems all of Grandpa's passions were something that could be shared: fishing meant time together, as did religion, and he freely gave away his paintings. They've always been a delight but now they're true tokens of remembrance. Orrin Tether Colby, 1914—2008.

West Coast Dist-O-Map

Here is Grandma Bettie's Dist-O-Map. I can't believe she said we could have it. When we were moving her last year she unloaded tons of stuff but the Dist-O-Map might be my favorite acquisition. Just the look of it makes me want to get in the car and drive. Why ... it's only 544 miles to Carson City!

Chicago World's Fair 1933-34

My paper spec rep took me to lunch this week. On a recent trip to New York she found a vintage souvenir notebook from the 1933 Chicago World's Fair. Camille bought it for me, and then paired it with these postcards from the same event. The postcards come from her neighbor, now deceased, whom I share my name with. Jesse passed away having lived 100 years, and Camille said he'd be happy to know these tokens continue to be shared with someone who would enjoy them. Camille, always thoughtful and inspiring, has made my week. These new additions really boost the profile of my discovered vintage ephemera. Perhaps in a future entry I'll include treasures from the garage, and maybe even Grandma Bettie's driving wheel.

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.

Reverence for the Leaves

Time to share a treasure. Three years after graduation I finally had the courage to attempt to send Alice Walker, author of The Color Purple as well as my favorite poet, a series of paintings I did as a student based upon her work. The assignment was to make a stencil and use it over and over to create a series of paintings with a nice relationship to each other. I made a stencil from a leaf I found, and then created conceptual paintings based upon poem fragments from Alice Walker's anthology Her Blue Body Everything We Know. My series is titled Reverence for the Leaves. Though it took a lot of phone calls and being shuffled around, I was surprised how easy it was to get connected to her assistant, whom I unfortunately woke up one morning. Nevertheless, she gave me her address, and I sent a copy of the series to Ms. Walker care of her assistant—uncertain she'd ever actually see it. Shortly after Valentines Day, 1998, I received not only a card back from Alice Walker herself, but it was a handmade card on construction paper with a photo she took in Cuba taped to the front. Flattered beyond belief, I share it here. 

Letterpressed

Sept. 2002. After picking up my wedding announcements made by a letterpress craftsman in Provo, UT, I dropped by my Alma Mater to catch an illustration exhibit. There were cases of old metal type stored in the back lobby. I was mesmerized and stole a letter V. A theft. A memento. A taxation. Oct. 2002. Honeymooning in Bar Harbor, ME, I called a craftsman I read about in a magazine who makes shadowbox collages with actual wood type.  I thought it would be a fun wedding gift, but they never responded. Nov. 2007. We dropped by a consignment shop that had miscellaneous metal and wood type and I had to get more. A blue rubber band is less attractive than a shadowbox but the V has company now, and to keep it sentimental I picked out our new house number. Since I'm currently in love with ligatures I also had to get the double f.