s’ccuute… and then you realize it’s a comb and you go mental.
it’s not just a g… it’s a bear!
mother and child
i love creative people. i love all types of people, but creative people are amazing, i like to keep them around. all of that “follow your passion” is easier for a lot of us. it’s the part after that’s a struggle. we know what we love and can make a living off of it, and being creative also lends to unusual ways of working, of creating. artists become freelancers, paths parallel, never crossing, lone stars of brilliance, working project to project. how does an artist and the art ever improve, evolve? become better? client feedback doesn’t count. getting feedback from other writers and designers is like taking the driest sponge and dropping it into a bucket of water.
we ingest content like maniacs. most of this new media has initiated a weird trend with already new digital journalism and literature, with a common goal: traffic. thoughtful memoirs are now lists of lessons learned in someone’s twenties or thirties. gifs have basically become a literary device and we don’t even bother with headlines anymore. it’s all about the clicks, not the impact and takeaway. not good writing, and not good editing for that matter.
i feel like, at least in the digital writing world, we’re missing the opportunity.
a good piece gets a set of eyes on it. and then another. accept feedback, be patient. then be thoughtful and use feedback wisely. and then a rewrite. and then maybe the same and a few more sets of eyes, over coffee. and then it may need to sit in the desk drawer for a week or a few. and then magic may happen. or it may not and so then, possibly (probably), repeat. with alcohol.
this is [part of] one of my creative processes. but the idea that it is a process is often forgotten and is what separates digital content so far from composition. but if they could be one? what if the content was the composition? these are important questions i’ve thought of recently and my solutions came from my history.
my uncle and godfather, bill, is an engineer. he’s my favorite person and mentor. he’s 94 years old and is the last i have on my dad’s side and he’s the smartest person i’ve ever known, so much so that i feel incredibly lucky that we speak regularly. i once asked him why he didn’t retire and i loved his answer: “i can’t tell my mind to stop thinking.”
it was then, and while i began writing with other writers at the lemonade, including ally, that i realized that being an artist means your job is who you are. being an artist is a part of you and you experience the world differently. having the mind of an artist can open so much meaning to anything. musicians hear music in the memories of their childhood, a painter sees a sunset and the values that complement it. sometimes i squint to see contrasts in faces and imagine painting someone’s eyes, jawline. this nature perpetuates itself in everyday life for people with these beautiful minds. it’s as if you feel more. and you question more. and asking questions leads to solutions. and our people like the creative kind.
i want to make the things i wished existed.
so i’ll be in boulder for boulder startup week from may 12-18 . and i’ll be writing. i’ll be spending some time before and after visiting denver and time will be spent exploring boulder, where i’ve been considering calling home to my next adventure. and so!
and also timmy o’neil’s live talk from last year’s ignite boulder event.
handlettering + san serif = fun
by joshua noom
linda & harriett: wayfare magazine.
sometimes it’s all about the SAN