The thing about Life is

A beautiful Utah morning, and instead of finishing taxes I am experimenting with a the title of David Shield's book, The Thing about Life is that One Day You'll Be Dead, cover design by Chip Kidd. ("Death and taxes . . . ," as the old saw goes.) And it's Spring, and green again graces the branches of the trees in the backyard, and I'm reminded of something Herman B Wells once said, something that has remained with me: "Dream no small dreams." Spring is the perfect time for dreams, for change and experimentation: a time to shake off any lingering, blue-gray, wintry moods, and go walking in the sun — just go walking in the sun. —4.08

Bookcovers by SUU student Jessica McAllister. 4.08.

Presentations and exhibitions

“Continental Divide,” motion graphics adaptation of Professor Danielle Dubrasky's
       poetry; Braithwaite Gallery, February–March 2008; ECOllective, University of
       Mary Washington, April 2008; and with Professor Dubrasky's reading of her
       poetry at the SUU Choral Reading, April 2008
“Write, Dance, Design: Cross Disciplinary Case Studies in Design,” peer-reviewed
       presentation at AIGA Intent/Content conference, Nashville, Tennessee,
       June 2007
“Counterform 2007,” juried exhibition of book works at the University of Utah,
       February–March 2007
“Fiction, Poetry, Dance, and Graphic Design: Case Studies in Collaborative
       Interactive and Print Design Projects,” multimedia presentation, 2007 Hawaii
       International Conference on Arts and Humanities; Honolulu, Hawaii,
       January 2007
“Please Do Not Discard,” solo exhibition of graphic design, art, writing; Vincennes
       University, Indiana, January–February 2007
“Creative Writing and Visual Exploration,” visiting artist/designer lecture, Vincennes
       University, Indiana, 2007
“Restless Boundaries,” exhibition of graphic design, art, writing, at Bellevue
       University, Nebraska, October–November 2006; visiting artist/designer
“Open Space,” visiting artist/designer lecture, Bellevue University, October 2006

"Lil' Debbie The Optimist," experimental print. 1.08.

Portfolio

Jump to collaborate for portfolio selections: a mix of interactive media and traditional print design, personal projects, and works in progress.

Download a low-res PDF of professional, personal, and student work (8mb).
Download a high-res PDF of the same (16mb).

New snow

Two feet of new snow fell in the mountains last weekend. I'm researching snowshoes online, a self-selected Christmas present. Much better than the tennis shoes we were wearing here. (Update: we went with the Atlas 1025s, very nice snowshoes.) —12.07

Packaging design

The Packaging Design class has been exceptional this semester. The students are pushing each other to better levels of design, and it shows across the board. Above, Quinn Bell's design for a new product line of tea. —11.07

"Just for Today: USA Preferred"; letterpressed in Omaha, Nebraska, 10.06.

"Save Darfur" magazine call-to-action ad, Nate Christian, SUU student, 2007.

I was speaking with a fellow educator the other day about the virtues of simplicity and flatness and the allure of texture and density. To me, it's all the same: a different style of working, for varying audiences and purposes; both styles are valid and important. Often my personal design tends toward density, layering, and roughness, but that's an inclination in my design and art. A well-designed, simple, clean design with a concept — modernism, or "neo-simplicity" — knocks me out every time. Spareness: density. Two sides of the same coin.
—1.07

Making a mess in a stranger ’s kitchen

There was the deep, somewhat forlorn sound of a horn blowing near the river while I worked on the outskirts of downtown Omaha. While a visiting artist in Nebraska, at Bellevue University, I had only a few hours to get familiar with the print shop and do some work. In the clean, unfamiliar shop, I fingered the dies and ornaments that had been acquired by the shop, dies from jobs that had been printed decades ago — and who knows where? To do some intuitive work in a brightly lit studio with high ceilings and an old paint-splattered radio playing local music — this is like entering into a stranger's home, going quickly through the drawers and cabinets and refrigerator in the kitchen, then tossing together a fine dinner without much thought, eating a wonderful meal at the glossy dining table, and cleaning up as quickly as you can on your way out. You carefully wipe away your fingerprints before you turn off all the lights and lock the door.
—11.06

Commentary

"It seems that wherever Dave is, he becomes fascinated by nuggets of gold in the world around him: weathered metal signs and posters, worn landscapes, old fonts from old times ... His responses to the found things, images and moments encountered are typically poetic — both in words and images."
—Michael Giron, gallery director

Lake effect

For three nights I listened to the churn of the wind and the dark waves of Lake Ontario. Jet lag kept me wide-eyed and awake. Sleep stayed at arm's length.

Recently, as a visiting artist at SUNY-Oswego, I was given accommodations in a warm, well-lighted, sparsely furnished apartment that sat huddled on the edge of the wintry lake. Sleepless at 3 a.m., listening to the crashing waves, I pulled out my laptop and weaved together some Actionscript code, a haunting track by the Rachel's, and low-res video clips to create a short ambient piece, "Lake Ontario."

During the final day's lecture I presented the video as a work-in-progress. (It still is.) Days later, back in blue-sky Utah, weary from travel, I read an email from a student at Oswego. She said, "I left wanting to watch it over and over, there was something about the piece that moved me." Her email touched me. Thank you.

Insomnia on the edge of a wild lakeshore can fuel your creativity, the rough result of which can touch someone unexpectedly — if you let yourself step out of the comfortable warmth and stand shivering on the shore and listen to the wind. View "Lake Ontario."
—2.06

Summertime collages: “I wake . . . ”

I wake to birdsong at 5 a.m., then sleep until the sun slips over the mountains and lights the bedroom just so; or when Ani, the dog, comes tapping into the bedroom and announces the beginning of the day — always a little too early, it seems. I wake. As Annie Dillard writes in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek: "We wake, if we wake at all, to mystery, to rumors of death, beauty, violence..."
—6.06