See Amid the Winter's Snow

A perfect wintry evening: jazz band and gallery stroll through the Flynn Artipelago Studios as the weather achieved near-blizzard status. The Chow Truck kept us well fed with spicy tacos. One studio offered mulled cider ... you really need a night like this to appreciate hot cider.

A woman made glass beads with her blowtorch; we contemplated buying a Dia de los Muertos tile wall hanging; another woman fashioned miniature birdbaths beside her kiln; and a stoner's studio had an old Mac from the early 90's covered with paint and fingerprints, but I was too shy to photograph that with all his questionable buddies hanging 'round.

Headed back to the car afterward, we took brief refuge under a tree still laden with leaves and berries, now hung low with wet jeweled snow.

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.

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.

Dangerous Typography

Leave it to typography to stop me dead in my tracks ... despite the rain. Despite being on my way to a party at a New York museum to meet other designers. I had to move fast to catch this bus before it was gone; and the real truth behind this photo is I immediately e-mailed it back to my junior designer, Laurie, who turned me on to Showtime's Dexter just months previous. I knew she'd get a kick out it. Most of us designers are sucker's for faux magazine covers. For the instant gratification of using a resplendent and distinctive combination of text and type that just screams "__fill in the masthead__". Are we as serial as the cable killer in our grandiose imaginations? Looking back on this photo, taken Oct. 2008, I am seeing what a luscious mash-up of letterforms surrounds the subject. The art nouveaux shape of the Roxy; the compressed grotesque of the municipal fire lane; the modernity of the window graphic in the foreground. So much to take in. I remember the rain, and the prank. I had to rely on a snapshot to really see how much else I was missing. Including the continuity of type through the ages, both real and imagined.