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This pensive image from sculptor Ernest Hilsenberg could only really be blue don't you think? Between these two doors lies a saga of relationship. Framing a little shaken, trust battered then braced; decades of angry departures have shaken out the doorknobs. And yet still….. "open."
This bread is 40 years old. And it still looks like bread. I love the sunny yellow disposition, the crusted rust, and the nice dimensionality of the toasted edges. Sent to me by the brilliant Bulgarian lettering artist and calligrapher Jordan Jelev, "The Label Maker."
And to complete the edible alphabets theme, here is the birthday cake make by Jordan's lovely wife Elitsa. Frosting is one of the hardest media to master. Like the floppy sign writing brushes of olde it has a mind of its own.
About a year ago I stumbled upon possibly the most beautiful design magazine I have ever seen. Upper Case is the brainchild of Calgary-based designer Janine Vangool. The sensibility is rich, tactile, combining a love of craft, book making, fine art, photography, type, and the freewheeling eclecticism of the modern blog: it's as though you came across the ultimate art and design blog and could suddenly hold it in your hands. I find it an endless source of inspiration– especially the views of artist/designer studios and stories about how creative people work. The recent issue features several lettering artists, calligraphers and font designers including me. Take a look, and consider subscribing. This magazine is truly a collectors' art piece: the pages smell of real ink for months, and each issue includes keepsakes and printed ephemera.
An excerpt from the interview. The quotation comes from e.e. cummings, and is one of my favorite anthems to the creative process. Walnut ink and ruling pen. *Several people have asked if they can see the interview online. At this time the magazine is entirely analogue, so although Upper Case has a wonderful blog and online shop you will need to subscribe to the actual magazine to see the issue.
At the very western edge of North America, where the last wagon, the last train, the last tricycle comes to its rolling stop before the Pacific Ocean is a place where a person might go to rest their head on concrete or read a book in the wind: The Great Highway. I spent an afternoon here a few years ago before it had been discovered as a writing surface. I sat with my back to the wall and my face turned to catch the rare heat of a spring sun and felt the anthems of immigrant America, of Pete Seeger, Walt Whitman, Jack Kerouac, and every stoned out hippie of the Pan Handle playing beneath the wind and the roar of cars and surf. Such a satisfying bleakness, so relentless, yet warm with the company of epic multitudes.
Today images arrived from another traveler to this place. The complete text of the wall says: "The paint on the walls is more important than the toy in your heart."
Is this true?
Photos by Aaron Zube, painter and architect, San Francisco.
This recent series uses expressive handwriting in a print and television campaign for Chase Ink. This is the first time I've ever been asked to write illegibly on purpose and being Dr. Joe Black was great fun. So much for prescriptions as abstract art…
Designer, calligrapher, lettering artist. Read more 