Experts of paleontology rarely debate the existence of prehistoric superwaterfowl, whom I believe waddled the earth during the late Jurassic epoch and the early stages of avian lifeforms. These illustrations – on grid paper no less, thus chockablock with scientific merit – depict a savage territorial battle between Aythya valisineria amplus and an unidentified carnivorous theropod.
The small, silhouetted airplane-like shapes are indeed 1920s bi-planes; they have been included in these illustrations only for effect, in that they make the scenes more epic.
I will be the first to admit, I don't dabble in the procuring of typefaces perhaps nearly as much as I should. But when I heard about the promotions surrounding the offering of Gibson, a swish sans-serif set, for dirt-stinking-cheap – and moreso, the reason why – I plonked down for this great cause. And I encourage you to do so as well.More, on Gibson:The Gibson font family is a humanist sans serif typeface designed by eminent Canadian type designer Rod McDonald, and produced by Patrick Griffin and Kevin King of Canada Type, to honour John Gibson, one of the original founders of the Society of Graphic Designers of Canada (GDC).As well as paying tribute to Mr. Gibson’s productive life and love of the typographic arts, the Gibson family is intended to be a mainstay of the future of Canadian design education. Many Canadian design schools and institutions will be making it part of their larger type piracy education programs. The eight-font family is available at token pricing to make it especially affordable for design students. For less than the price of a design textbook, a student can now have a sturdy and contemporary humanist sans serif family that fits pretty much any design application, and will remain useful long after academic studies and well into a professional career in design.All revenues from its sale will be donated by Canada Type to the GDC, where they will be allocated to a variety of programs aiming to improve the creative arts and elevate design education in Canada. Each of the eight Gibson fonts comes with 370 characters and feature extended Latin-based language support. The Gibson family ships in cross-platform OpenType format.
The face(s) have come in handy for myself with a quickness; I've already used Gibson to craft labels for maple syrup bottles through work, and for a freelance jobbie, an ad for a company organizing high Arctic tours. And cripes I say, what is more Canadian than that? And that? I urge anyone reading this with a designerly bone in their body, to get on that action. It's a great cause and for 48 loonies, a price that can't be beat.
Wrong number messages: my favourite kind of messages.
Turtle and mushroom by Kerry.
"It's good... just gotta take it slower."Famous last words, before proceeding a few more metres in the CR-V and getting stuck. Only nine of the 40-kilometre stretch of foggy logging road had melted to a point of navigability. Cue rigourous rocking/pushing sessions, a couple hundred metres in reverse to the nearest turnaround point, and then high-tailing it back to asphalt. The 2011 nocturnal owl survey was over before it began.
A couple of weekends ago, I opened up my vault of photo-a-day photos to see which ones might best benefit from tinkerings with various black-and-white conversion techniques in Photoshop. During the thick of the project, I had often wished to convert some right then and there, but was adamant in sticking to colour and minimal dickings-around with post-processing. These are my favourite six results from this bout of playtime. You can click on any of the images, to view them larger.
Using Photoshop calculations I played God, and turned a red fox white. I was able to separate the subject from the background, a feat I was hard up to perform on this overcast evening with fading light.
Through greyscale conversion I was able to chase the nasty streetlight hues of this original scene and focus on the sheer dump of snow we received one evening last November. This was before the bleakness of the season really set in, and snow like this was more of an exciting thing.
I appreciate how a good conversion can bring out otherwise muted textures. All beiges and light beiges, this savannah sparrow during a songbird banding session at work, remained still enough for me to focus him right in the eye.
Here's me. So emo, during the golden hour and dog days of last summer. I had a lot on my mind and stuff, you know. Just needed a good sit-and-stare, sort some issues out. You know. Stuff.
Here's another shot of me, by guest photographer Anton Corbijn. Anton and myself had just been dying to do a project together…
But, enough about me. Here is my favourite converted photo from my shufflings through the 365 stacks – and it's not just because of the subject matter. I enjoy everything about this image: the reflective hair strands, the uniquely-sized pupils, and especially the silhouetted outline of the right side of Kerry's head. I think I'm in love.
One of the pitfalls of having left this blog sit and stew for so long is that I never got the timely and proper opportunity here to crow about quite possibly my proudest achievement in design in a long, long while – the jacket I concocted for Vs., Kerry's second published book of poetry. The book, whose creation and production zipped along at a rapid clip over the course of 2010, was launched with great fanfare (and a three-city cross-country tour) earlier this winter.We both had much fun collaborating on her first book, The Sleeping Life, in 2008. Admittedly, it can be dangerous territory when married creatives try and combine forces. But for those who hold steadfast to the belief that the customer/client is always right (a belief, I believe, in many cases is absolute hooey) our two jaunts book-jacket-land serve as a shining example. Kerry the Client art-directed her covers to perfection, knowing precisely what she wanted to best wrap her words in. And myself, as the Hands, served humbly and admirably.
For her second book, the base concept was once again hers (she also located the source photo, from the Library of Congress). I provided more this time around, stylistically, building a faux-tattered piece to portray a battered and time-worn feel. Carefully blending together freebie textural elements located across the Great Wide Internet, and capping with a dominant and weathered Helvetica super-duper-ultra-black for the title, I think it's a proud-looking thing.I'm tooting my horn here, and I don't usually like to do this with such enthusiasm. But I was a happy, happy cat the day the first samples arrived, printed up in all their 5x7 glory – my all-time favourite dimensions – in a fine and fibrous stock.And I still am. We still are.
Exhibit A: the Monday morning meeting doodle.I read books, and magazines. I unfold, scan, and re-fold highway maps. I look in the phone book. I call Tele-Bus. I record 30 Rock with a VCR. I take photos with a camera. I go outside to play. I sketch first with a pencil, then use a pen. I spend most of my days in InDesign. I've never owned a cell phone. Or smart phone. Or whatever they're called. But so far as I know, I think I nailed the essence of them here, in all of 30 seconds it took me to ink this sucker out...
Without using a pencil first. Oops.
Then check out this slice of goings-on at GDC Manitoba's most recent PechaKucha Night at the Park Theatre, featuring myself and 365-photo cohort Karen as we dissect our year of photo-journaling in lightning-fast fashion. I was nervous as a mutha, and had no idea my voice was so high. In hindsight, I would do it again in a snap. It's an absolute rush.
The next event goes down in June. If you have any sort of creative bent whatsoever, and have a story to tell, I strongly advise you to try this event out, as a speaker or spectator.
Meanwhile, Kerry is hands-down, the most creative person in this household. A single Saturday class in needle-felting has resulted in a gush of fuzzy creations popping up around the place like... like...
...well, like something. I just can't think of exactly what.
As such, I decided to take my own creative leanings outside. Facing a rare above-zero Sunday in mid-February, I sculpted this hale fellow in the front yard. But one month later he began to show the onset of spring in these parts, slowly wasting away to an avant-garde piece of modern art that I couldn't create if I tried. But sad news to report: his head was officially offed yesterday afternoon while we were out muchly enjoying Baraka Pita and a matinée screening of The Illusionist (my stars, a beautiful-looking thing).
In and amongst flashbacks here to goings-on of the past eight months, there's still plenty enough going on in the present. To wit, last night, when I bit the bullet and hit the stage for PechaKucha Night. (I should refine that – I bit half the bullet, since my stage-time was shared with friend Karen as we divulged on our respective photo-a-day ordeals.)But yeah, OK. I said a funny-sounding word without a whole lotta explanation: PechaKucha (pronounced, I believe, puh-CHOCK-chaw) is a movement borne in Tokyo some years ago as a collaborative event for creative types to convene, talk – the word means "chit chat" in Japanese – and share what they're doing, and what's on their mind. Operating under the founding umbrella organization, these events are put on around the globe. Including Winnipeg, where they're organized by the good folks at the Society of Graphic Designers of Canada's (GDC) Manitoba chapter – for which I am in my fourth year of handling communications duties.GDC Manitoba has now successfully staged five of these events, each featuring roughly a dozen speakers from all manner of creative disciplines (Kerry did one, in August). During an event, each presenter is given six minutes and 40 seconds to talk, while 20 slides run, 20 seconds a pop. This rigid formula can either drive presenters to panic and fluster, or to a fluid, tight schpiel. Either way, the thing moves. And entertains, massively. And that's what matters.Watching over four previous editions as volunteer, co-organizer – even emcee – I've been eager to edge my way into a line-up, but never had an idea for a presentation. That was solved when Karen and myself joined forces to use PechaKucha V as a form of closure to our photography projects. Bittersweet, sure, but our time on stage in the spotlight was a real kick, lightning-fast as it was. I'd certainly do it again in a flash given the chance.A compact collection of snaps from the event can be seen here. The next PechaKucha will be in June. I'd heartily recommend it as a thing to do, or see. It's a great display of talent.
This past fall I applied my design skills to a fantastic cocktail of social betterment and blatant nepotism by crafting the visuals for my dad's first crack at public office, a position on city council in my long-long-ago hometown of Kitchener, Ontario.We risked the handlebar-moustache-by-Sharpie treatment by the graffiti set and rolled out an array of materials featuring his familiar mug, which, previous to his political career, ran in the city paper week in and week out during his many years as reporter, editor and columnist. Thus, the image was a brand not to be trifled with.To avoid affiliation with major political parties, many colours were nixed from the get-go. In the end, a combination of yellow and dried-nosebleed red – one of my all-time favourites – was incorporated into brochures, leaflets, leave-behinds and lawn signs (above, and below).Typographically then, which way to go. Hobo? Too hippie-dippy, wavy-gravy. Impact? Too lock-down conservative. Helvetica? Too Swiss. Comic Sans? Too self-destructive.Clarendon. It works for Jeopopolis – check the banner, see for yourself. The slab-serif face handles dual roles delicately: its serifs keep things personable, while still conveying the strength and doggedness of a long and well-respected journalistic career. Toss in Fontin Sans, crafted wonderfully by Jos Buivenga's exljbris foundry, to support the cause and I safely feel like I've performed my civic and typographic duty.
I'm pleased to announce, the materials were a huge success. Or, in more accurate terms, success enough that he won the council seat by a single vote, 1689 to 1688 – a margin that ultimately stood up despite disputes, recounts and ensuing court battles. It's lesson enough, that the ages-old credo that every vote counts should remain valid.Good design wins, by a nose-hair.
