This past weekend my wife and I visited our son at University of Hartford. It was our first official "parents' weekend" with our young freshman. One of the activities on campus was a small craft fair, where I discovered the work of Connecticut clay artist Chris London. (Click for web site.) Her collection of tiny skull masks yanked my attention from its diffuse, wandering-about state to a blue fabric covered table, adorned with a stamped swirl motif.

There were more, with several styles and many sizes.

What quickly came to mind, for a point of reference, was Tim Burton's 1993 A Nightmare Before Christmas. But that's all; just a reference! Chris London's creations are chock full of so much nuanced character. Their impish experessions feel like the tip of an iceberg, as if they have so much more to tell us if we'll only take them home and listen. (In a 2008 Hartford Magazine interview, Ms. London said "You know immediately when a piece is done... it starts talking to you.")

This one was practically singing, so it came home with me together with the very first image, above.

I thank my wife Jennifer for insisting that I top off our purchase and also get the larger mask I was audibly ogling. It features a repeating, cropped-spiral texture, wide-set eyes on it's own mask (mask on a mask), subtle bulges for nose and mouth areas, and a slightly rough finish overall. It's about 10 inches tall and ready to hang.

Remember folks, clay artists aren't just potters...

www.clondonclay.com

 

 

I heard the news today. Oh boy...

While I can be accused of Apple Fanboydom, the truth is that although I've been squarely in the Apple camp since the mid 1980s, I can probably only count on two hands the number of Apple products bought for my own use over those many years. All but one has been a traditional computer - my year-old iPhone. So I've not over-indulged. Don't tell anyone but my current desktop Mac, which I bought reconditioned from Apple almost 5 years ago doesnt even have an Intel chip in it! (Though for how much longer this will suffice, I do not know.)

I respect the guy more than I adore him. He is a very consequential human being, unmoveably staked into the timeline of western culture.

Early on today I was struck by some of my fFacebook friends reverently changing their profile images to reflect this dark day. I myself waited until later in the day, after being inspired to look for more appropriately iconic images.

Below is the rest of what my search for [primarily] black 'n white images turned up regarding Mr. Jobs. There are more out there, to be sure. But certain ones I've left in the trash heap of forgettable me-too attempts (too many lame "iSad" ones, especially).

Not all images were made today. Several were commentary on Jobs' recent departure as Apple CEO but seem perfect for this point in time. I like to think it's a good thing that some among us felt moved enough to contribute their own iconic images towards the departure - and then the ultimate passing - of a creative personality, himself an icon.

Some interesting, unknown instrumental music is playing as I write this, appropriate for remembering someone who can list supercharging the digital music revolution among his many accomplishments.

Thanks for all the cool stuff, for my work and play.

Photo: cover of the two hybrid booklets.

In a communications landscape that feels predominantly digital and often lacks the warmth and charm of the craftsman’s hand, there was a sudden and inspired opportunity this past week for me to pick up some unusual papers, old but sharp knives, various rulers, tapes, glues and burnishers and assemble something tactile, something of weight and, by extension, of importance and worthy of notice – a distinctive statement that hopefully will rise above the usual printed matter that plagues most analog inboxes.

Photo gallery: inside views of the hybrid booklet; a real page turner.

This hand-made business card mailer/brochure hybrid (of which I made two) was sent to separate, potential referrers within Rutgers University. They had each requested that I “send [them] a few business cards” to aid recommending me as an outside creative contractor to their internal university customers needing design help for printed or online projects (i.e., annual [or other] reports, fundraising mailers, program description brochures, white papers, ebooks, online landing pages, etc.).

To fulfill the request, I could’ve typed something on tri-folded letterhead, dropped it and a few cards into a #10 envelope and have been done with it – an easy “lumpy” or dimensional mailer to boot, drawing some attention when it arrived.

Could I have employed an oversized padded envelope, or have sent them in a box..? Though a bit gimmicky, the envelope idea was certainly a start, but I knew these recipients wouldn’t keep any box unless they could easily repurpose it. That seemed like too high a mountain to scale; I needed to get some cards out quick.

These two prospects within the university had given me their time, at least once, on the phone recently. Having not yet met in person, I wanted the mailer to convey

•  personality
•  imagination
•  precision
• appreciation
• craftsmanship
• whimsy
• surprise
• and the necessary contact information

Just as important, I’m hoping they’ll also see an unusual solution to a problem. Granted, it’s mostly my problem – how to keep a handful of business cards from disappearing in an office environment. But they will surely benefit as well by having a little show-and-tell handy as my card is handed to their internal clients in need of creative help.

Photo gallery: fronts and back of the hand-made business cards, each 3-ply thick. And look at all those half-moon cuts I made into the kraft paperwith an Xacto knife - twenty four in all!

So where to begin... Starting out, I wanted the two-sided cards to be attached to a fairly sturdy sheet, making it easier for my referrer to file it in – and retrieve it from - a drawer, versus being strewn across the bottom of a shallow drawer or rubber-banded together in the corner of a drawer or box.

If this containing sheet was to have die cuts holding the cards, then the reverse side would be pretty unattractive and require hiding (which is why most pocket folders have their card die cut on the pocket or flap, where it’s difficult to ever see the back side).

Folding a sheet of paper neatly solved that. The exagerated rectangle of my new kraft paper sketch pad drove the next opportunity – two ‘gates’ folding into the middle. Suddenly the adequate structural support of two paper layers was quickly doubled and now a sturdier folder! That helped with the delivery issue, as a smallish folder would neatly hold a half dozen business cards, double the “few” they asked for. When loaded up with six heavyweight, hand-hewn cards (a design and construction story in themselves), my little folder now had real heft, commanding respect.

The next issue was how to add a little bit of message to the folder, to compliment the cards. The kraft paper would be too difficult to print on, and the two sets of cards left no interior room anyway. Aha! Bind a folio in, right at the spine. At flat size, it could come out of my inkjet printer on select letter-sized paper (that same paper would again be used for the final package insert – a handwritten note). Folded, it would give me four message panels, perfect for conveying a concise, multipart message. The message essentially reminds them that I make it easier to do their job, helping them fulfill their mission at Rutgers. The four pages were attached with a pair of staples set into pushpinned holes, then painstakingly folded flat and true with fingertips and burnishing tool.

Photo gallery: the package itself, all ready to go, including the handwritten note(s) trimmed out of a single letter-sized sheet.

The folder construction was finished off with a 2.75 inch diameter “bc” monogram logo on the front cover, plotter-cut from metallic copper vinyl. I had a dozen or two still handy, their scale perfect for application on this kind of undersized book, booklet or folder (they’ve also appeared nicely on black- and kraft-covered cahier notepads).

Both prototyped hybrids, along with the handwritten notes finally went into kraft-colored envelopes I found at The Container Store. Finishing touches were inkjet-printed mailing labels spray-mounted on the outsides and heavy-duty but small cuts of fiberboard stiffener for the insides.

::

No feedback yet as they’re still en route, but I’ll be following up to see if they arrived, and then were handled, filed and used, as planned.

::

Please tell me in the comments if you've ever received or constructed a similar mailer or hand-delivered package, and also if you ever learned of its success or failure.

 

Photo: I promised a shout out to my glue buddy Tombo Mono Multi, when the post was completed. Thank you for being a great little product.

Photo: And I couldn't really have done it, so easily or so inspired anyway, without my new pad of  9 x 18 inch kraft sketch paper. Such convenience!

 

 

I'm no engineer, but am always thinking about practical conservation ideas with enough inherent profit motive to create a win-win scenario, where the inventor/producer and the public both benefit.

While not my first idea in the plumbing fixture realm, I think this one could actually get done and be fielded quickly, providing savings of water and money.

Problem: Water levels in toilets today assume a "worst-case" preparation, ready to swiftly take away solid mass. But how many flushes per day, across the western world, consume twice the water than needed, when it's only liquid that needs carrying away?

Solution: provide two water levels. Higher level would be the one we all know now; the new second level would be lower, default level.

Toilet, when flushed, would fill to a lower-than-usual level, adequate for those many quick visits we all pay during the day. When we need to sit a spell, for those longer visits, we'd push a button that would mechanically fill the bowl and the tank to a higher level, providing the necessary coverage and flushing power. Once flushed, water is filled to the lower default level again.

Perhaps I'm naive, but my gut tells me that the button and filling aparatus would be a small engineering project versus a new fixture design with complex moving or electronic parts and/or a new casting. My solution could also - maybe - be a retrofit for existing setups.

One weakness I see is that children or the elderly may not select the higher level when needed, causing backups. Perhaps this new design should have the option to override the default, keeping it at the higher level. Hmmmm... What else am I not addressing here?

Field Notes make terrific analog sketching and note-taking products, but have now outdone themselves with this limited product that's both very familiar to me, and also [now] quite unique. Us seasoned (older) types remember the days of dry transfer lettering...

*Cue the wavy video transition here...*

Rest of short blog post, including short video

I saw a beat-up car today – a lot of big dents along the old Corolla's side – parked on the street in front of a house also hosting a handyman's van. There was lumber leaning against the house, so clearly there was work being done. By the placement of this car, it's safe to assume that it belonged to a workman, perhaps the handyman's subcontractor. I imagined the [assumedly] man who owned it, perhaps single or maybe with a young family, working hard, six days a week but still struggling to stay even. I may be totally wrong; there's no easy way to confirm, but as I strolled past with my dog, I imagined being able to suddenly change that situation for him, either with a magic wand, some clandestine body work, or simply swapping out the car for a pristine one of the same vintage and color. Wouldn't that stupefy then cheer up that guy, as he approached the car after a long day, a long week, of toiling?

That little absent-minded fantasy got me to wondering – if I suddenly had a lot of money, and was predisposed to give it away, just how would I do it? There's so much need in the world, so many competing, outstretched hands. There's also no shortage of large institutions who have developed creative plans and systems for helping many at a time. Assuming they're more efficient than corrupt, perhaps they could do the most good with my donation, and give relief to the most people somewhere in the world.

Or I could sprinkle money amongst other smaller organizations, even local ones and maybe feel more of a closeness to my community. But what felt the most appealing as I strolled through my neighborhood this morning was the idea of a thousand acts of random kindness, like fixing that guy's car – anonymously. It might be fun to travel through this world and solve strangers' nagging problems here and there like some fairy godmother (but of the other gender and less "fairy").

I know this daydream is no substitute for rolling up my sleeves and volunteering to help strangers with actual survival or pressing health needs. That's a whole 'nother topic.

So I'm curious – if you were inclined to, and could afford to, give away a lot of money – how would you do it?

BTW, the photo of folded money art at top came indirectly from this Japanese site. There's a lot more there to enjoy!

Twitter has come through for me in concrete ways recently, helping me get customer service issues addressed by bypassing traditional calling or website-guided resolution approaches.

For example, last week, my new VOIP phone service wouldn't upgrade from its trial status to a paid account. I followed and precisely repeated directions prescribed by the company’s Support web site, but time after time I received an error message. Frustrating... Rather than open an account, just to make a complaint or even pose a question, I instead conducted a quick search on Twitter. I publicly* made contact with a company rep, via his Twitter account, and politely aired my frustration: “@companyx - I keep trying to give you my money but you won't accept it." The Twitter-savvy replied and arranged for Support to call me. They did, the problem was discussed and given a high priority, and the technical issue was resolved within 48 hours.

*Publicly is key here. A company that values its reputation will (or should) have a social media presence and will monitor that media for mentions, both positive and negative, by prospective and current consumers. Unhappy customers on Twitter make noise. But appreciative customers on Twitter also make noise, but good noise, publicly thanking those who help them. That’s a win/win for everyone.

Last night I searched Twitter again for a UPS delivery service company presence. Bingo; found a name and [again] publicly asked, “who do I bitch to about a package that arrived today instead of last Friday? Sucks paying extra $20 for service I didn't get.” Yep, a 2-day delivery premium I paid to an online merchant fell through and a Christmas gift didn’t arrive in time. I’ll survive the late delivery, but don’t want to also pay for expedited shipping. Long story short, the delivery company replied [again, publicly, on Twitter] asking me to email contact info and tracking number to him. At noon today, I got  an email saying a refund was issued to the merchant, etc. Bingo! Also received a friendly follow up email too. Double Bingo! Y’see how it works and how everyone wins?

For those out there unsure or dismissive of Twitter, I’m here to tell you it has more than a few redeeming features worth investigating.

These oddly-domesticated characters are trying to tell us something, but I have no idea what.

I have somewhat of a problem, one that defines me as much as it bedevils me, one that reared its head again this past holiday. It reminded me how odd yet how blessed I am.

Picture this: early on Thanksgiving day, I'm following one of my wife's veteran recipes for a pear tart, photocopied from a magazine. All fine and good; the page has plenty of white space and an attractive photo that bleeds off the page's top edge. Comfortably below the photo is the primary text – a narrow column of ingredients to the left and instructions to the right, with bold verbs providing adequate punctuation.

"Read all the way through the recipe at least once," my wife advised "so you’ll know what to expect." Wise words from an experienced pro, but this amateur replied with a faint "Meh," opting instead to muddle forward.

Read ahead I did, and to the end, but frankly the last third or so blurred with inattention. Surely anything tricky would reveal itself in time. My usual, confident approach to a new recipe, especially for baking, is to follow directions with mechanical precision.  So I became irked when a detail slipped past me: ingredients had stated"1/2 cup of sugar plus 1-1/2 tablespoons" Hmmm... that's a strange measurement total. Still, all the sugar went into the dough mixture. Fast forward to the final, pre-glaze command: "sprinkle on the remaining sugar and cinnamon mixture before placing in the oven..."

Huh? What sugar? Turns out the author had intended for me to reserve the extra 1-1/2 tablespoons. Irritated by this revelation, I scrambled to verify, or rather blame the recipe text for this miscommunication. Flustered, I rescanned the text and growled loudly. I couldn’t seem to pick out sugar among the dense ingredient list! My wife had to rub my back, coaching me to remain calm.

This panicky reaction ignited a flashback to when I became a designer so many years ago. Annoyed by the layouts of printed pages – textbooks, newspapers and magazines – I was often distracted from comprehending the material efficiently. In my eyes, the form was actually interfering with its function! Thus my drive to understand the mechanics of information analysis and presentation began; a formal education and ongoing career followed.

This Thanksgiving's fleeting vexation (the pear tart was ultimately a delicious success) was a reminder of what, for better or for worse, is important to me as a creator and consumer of designed pages. Concepts like precise and purposeful word usage and placement, color distinctions, white space, helpful symbols, lines and arrows and pure typographic legibility. These are not merely decorator’s devices. In the hands of skilled designers these are means to ensure message comprehension.

One last concept: empathy. To call ourselves responsible communicators, we designers need to immerse ourselves more in world of readers and less in the role of assemblers or hired stylists. Yes, style has its part to play but please, not at the reader’s expense! In the case of the recipe, why not test it with kitchen novices and listen to their feedback? Fight those safe and lazy urges and instead forge a real connection with the audience.

How about you – what in your character or background has put you on the path you're currently on? What is important enough to sacrifice your status or comfort for? Are you still on a mission to change things that struck you as broken or wrong?