speaking of rules

December 27, 2011 § 2 Comments

What being a graphic artist means

“We are communicators, aesthetes, conceptual thinkers and craftsmen. Here’s how to make it all work.”

by Hunter Wimmer: from Imprint via Salon Daily

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rules

December 21, 2011 § 1 Comment

what rules do you break?

she knows but she'll light them all anyway

versatile.blogger.award.

December 18, 2011 § 2 Comments

I am pleased to announce that my blog has been nominated for The Versatile Blogger Award and The Liebster Blog Award by Peach Farm Studio.
exuberant thanks. to the inspiring. proprietor. of Peach Farm Studio.

In turn, I will be nominating 15 of my favorite blogs for The Versatile Blogger Award and Liebster Blog Awards. (There are many exciting, inspiring sites, but the award rules limit the nominations to 15 for The Versatile Blogger Award and 5 for the Liebster Blog Awards. For convenience I will combine my nominees into one list with links to their respective blogs. And I will make a big fuss each time I add someone to the list.

The idea behind The Versatile Blogger Award nominations is to use these nominations to make other bloggers aware of other great blogs, as I will soon be doing. Please nominate (with exuberance.) some of your favorite blogs for The Versatile Blogger Award and Liebster Blog Award too!

Rules for The Versatile Blogger Award nominations:

* In a post on your blog, nominate 15 fellow bloggers for The Versatile Blogger Award; 5 for the Liebster Blog Award.
* Add the Versatile Blogger Award and Liebster Blog Award picture on your blog post.
* Thank the blogger (profusely.) who nominated you in a post with a link back to their blog.
* Share 7 random things about yourself.
* Inform each nominated blogger of their nomination.

Some random things about me:  I dangle participles. I am whimsical when it comes to punctuation. I fly by the seat of my pants. These are the rainy days I have been saving for. There is always music. I don’t follow rules, but I know when I’m breaking them.

time to think – work in progress

December 16, 2011 § 3 Comments

no matter how rigid the form, the process is dynamic

there is no shortest distance between two points, there are no straight lines, there is no there only getting there which doesn’t exist, only the imagining of there and having gotten there only the wanting and the on the way, there is no arrival only arriving which lasts for not as long as the blink of an eye, but there are riches along the way and up and down heaval and the twining where twain shall meet
no matter how rigid the form the heart is motion,
art is change

FLUXX
is part trilogy, or part concerto in three movements, or is simply an exploration
taking place on papers, as a set of 3 accordion books, each with 2 folds, 3 pages six faces, three poems

without covers
no borders
no bound pages,
a line through time yes, and space
but no immutable first page, or last page, no in the beginning, no last word.

the first book (already printed in a limited edition of 5) it seems is called subtraction (though you will not find the word anywhere)

the second one is just about ready to be set, the paper just about ready to cut
just about ready to take shape

it’s called circling, and again it is not spelled out. well or andbut of course it is in so many words

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note to self

December 13, 2011 § 2 Comments

books, handmade or otherwise should not be too….too sanctified to handle like books, afterall what good is the damn thing if you can’t read it

cloister caps 60 point

December 8, 2011 § 3 Comments

ABCD EFG


may be frontispiece for abecedary I’m working on. color by Maia Kobabe.

flood 1995

December 4, 2011 § Leave a comment

We sat in front of the TV, like people used to sit by the radio, you know, and waited, for someone to tell us what we already knew was inevitable.  And every once in a while we went out and walked as far down the road toward the river as we could get.  And we did normal things like eat supper and take out the garbage.  And paced.  You know, we even went to bed, but it was to fly in the face of reality.  No one slept.  And at any given time during the night everyone was out prowling around, surveying the situation.  It was grave, it was quiet.  The river was big and each of us were so small.

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