oh lookie: design is now worth so little to designers that our work is completely interchangeable. way to destroy your credibility, guys.
the new Society for Typographic Arts (not the original one, the new one) is proving to be just the thing i need now: a geeky little association meeting for warm, friendly evenings talking about design and related craft. last night’s event, hosted by chester, was a rousing success: imagine twenty old farts and ten old-farts-to-be drooling over new typographic forms…and then six of us lagging behind for a tour of columbia’s metal and letterpress labs. swoon.
a lovely interview with the fantastically talented agnieszka gaspararska, whose work gives fischerspooner stunning visual presence to match the music.
if nobody’s noticed, i’ve lately been updating the living hell out of both voyeur and typo (including sketches for a potential new font family…the mind boggles).
off to my hometown with Hot Boyfriend for a family wedding. expect updates as the boredom becomes excruciating. ciao!
it’s no secret that i’ve been disgusted with the state of the design industries for the past year or so. but what is secret is that visual design is one of a very few things i actually do believe in…hence my pissy outlook of late.
to repair this faultline in my beliefs, i’ve begun ignoring design professionals entirely (after all, who needs another logo-with-orbit-path) and concentrating on finding the roots of my craft.
yesterday, i found a new source: the hamilton woodtype museum. the museum is the only museum devoted to wood type in the country, and is home to dennis ichiyama, who creates gorgeous compositions layering typographic forms in transparent inks.
with special thanks to scary lady sarah for my birthday present, su and i are seeing siouxsie and the bashees with ex-girl tonight.
have you gotten me anything yet..? hmm..?
siouxsie was wonderfiul…but x-girl is the Next Big Thing. so sayeth i. evil japanese japanese girls in matching dresses wielding guitars and handpuppets. hooray.
there is only one sure way to tell spring’s indeed come to chicago: mens’ clamdiggers start appearing. why, why, why..?
happy anniversary to the furball and the turk. everyone wish them well; it’s practically their fault Hot Boyfriend and i met in the first place.
as of late: idle time, given to film: little voice, exotica, the smokers (guilty pleasure, that one). more given to books: all the names, watership down (never read it as a child). even more given to letting a beautiful man amaze me: cutting thorns from a tree he finds beautiful, reading passages from postmodern pooh, helping me search for typographic oddities (did you know there was a hoefler face called ehmcke? me neither, and it sure is ugly), and critiquing (generously) work in progress.
jay chiat: spinmeister. showman. corpse.
the american center for design closes. not just a professional organization, the american center for design was the only institution which recognized the broad range of design disciplines and brought them together for thought, debate, and occasional argument. the design industries will definitely suffer without the ACD’s presence.
