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It would have suited her better had Briony wept and allowed herself to be comforted on the silk chaise lounge in the drawing room, Such stroking and soothing murmurs would have been a release for Cecilia after a frustrating day whose various under-currents of feeling she had preferred not to examine. Addressing Briony’s problems with kind words and caresses would have restored a sense of control.

Atonement by Ian McEwan, chapter 4.

I’ve been wondering why I suddenly feel strong and well when I’m miserable and someone turns to me for support. This passage strangely answered my question and inspired (beware) further reflections.

Aside from a feeling of being in control, consoling Briony would have provided Cecilia what she was in need of. Those soothing words would have been driven by parental instincts, and she would have been a parent not for Briony but herself.

A strange ritual, that. Re-enacting the parental ghost, chanting its spells invokes that ultimately secure and strong authority in herself. Like an abandoned child who needs to learn to become its own parent. Like we ultimately all do.


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Inspiration

A fantastic blog entry about procrastination myths led me to the realization:

Waiting for inspiration to strike before starting to work is wrong. How would it come from a vacuum? From idly sitting around or doing something else?

My dear friend and admired illustrator John Howe always says that he has no idea what an artist’s block is. You just have to draw, let the pencil run around the page and inspiring ideas will emerge.

Pablo Picasso advised clearly:

“Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.”

This great blog entry I linked above had the ultimate clue:

“You’ll find that inspiration is a byproduct of having the discipline to do what needs to be done; inspiration comes from doing.”

Whether it’s called that, the Muse, or Holy Spirit, the idea is the same: the “package” to create from will come once you’re disciplined and humble enough to start working. If inspiration is the Muse, starting to work is the invocation.

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Things anyone should know about me

Especially future employers.

  • I have the sleep needs of a 5-year-old. 9 hours in the night at least, with some quiet/dozing time in the afternoon on occasion. 
  • I’m not a morning person. I’m damn serious about that.
  • I eat slowly and a lot. I’m not overweight at all but I need to eat. A lot. And regularly. 4 or 5 times a day. It takes 5 minutes to shower in the morning but it takes 20 to finish breakfast.
  • It’s better for everyone if I pick my clothes the night before. Seriously, it’s better.
  • Leave me alone. I work best on my own. I can be very extroverted and sociable and “an efficient team worker”, I can work in a crazy hype for an extended period of time, but I need alone time for immersion and recovery.
  • I’m not lonely. I know it’s hard to believe I’m fine on my own, but my social needs are not exaggerated.
  • I enjoy commute. I like traveling to and fro, reading on my iPod, listening to music, grabbing a free newspaper, watching people… I do a lot of my thinking on the subway.
  • I like frequent travels. Not enthusiastic about long flights though.
  • I enjoy cooking and cleaning and doing the dishes as a way of winding down after intellectual work.
  • I enjoy meticulous and repetitive work that others have been putting off for months. (Eh, meghanagain.)
  • I NEED to have something creative in my job, on the other hand. At least I need to be part of the support team for something creative like a book. 
  • I drink an improbable amount of water.
  • I reread emails about 5 (ok, make that 10) times before sending off. I have literary inclinations and am fastidious about expressing myself elegantly. 
  • No coffee.

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White is the Color

Beyond the rules of contrast and the principles of visibility, regardless of subject area or target group, irrespective of in-house designer, even stretching the borders of reason, there is a remarkable trend emerging in book cover fonts.

The trend is called “white.”

From crime through memoirs & romance to young adult fiction, designers seem to have a penchant for white font color. Sure, we do note the legibility requirements this unmissable color so aptly fulfills… but… honestly, guys?!

The above selection was picked from amazon.com’s latest for new releases, blockbusters, fall books, the books of the month, fiction, non-fiction, and young adult categories. I didn’t keep numerical track of the tendencies, but I’d say about 40% of new releases feature white as an emphatic font design element. And I was overly careful with that estimate.

Filed under publishing design book design book font trend white

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In the wake of…

…the night

Hadrian's Wall

…the dragon

Beowulf's dragon

The first shot was taken in June 2010 by @HadriansWall (Cumbrian photographer Joan Thirlaway), the illustration below was painted by John Howe (Canadian-born illustrator) in 2005.

A curious coincidence. I’m not sure if John used a shot of Hadrian’s Wall (not the person but the construction this time) as a reference for the painting, but the explanation that I prefer is one of artistic collective unconscious. A while back I toyed with the following idea: would it be possible for two people to create the same picture (painting, photograph etc.) independently and uninfluenced by each other, purely by tapping into a kind of art pool?

The artists themselves will be the judges, and I will follow up on this post with the “verdict.” But I’d like to believe what really happened here is a beautiful coincidence, and even more admirably: cross-medium.

Images © Joan Thirlaway and John Howe, respectively

Filed under John Howe Joan Thirlaway Hadrian's Wall Cumbria Photography Illustration Collective unconscious coincidence

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Look at that little fish. Perfectly positioned gentle explosion of color among the muted watery tones. Following the rule of thirds, static under the breaking of the surface waves, it does nothing but exists in its beauty, unawares. Static, but not without life: the pulsing of color areas on its tiny body gives a beating heart to the image, as well as the Polaroid-like stripes of texture giving it a rhythm. It is just a simple picture of a fish in a tank. But it is the work of a genius.

Look at that little fish. Perfectly positioned gentle explosion of color among the muted watery tones. Following the rule of thirds, static under the breaking of the surface waves, it does nothing but exists in its beauty, unawares. Static, but not without life: the pulsing of color areas on its tiny body gives a beating heart to the image, as well as the Polaroid-like stripes of texture giving it a rhythm.

It is just a simple picture of a fish in a tank. But it is the work of a genius.

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10 Plays

If I was to direct a movie on The Shack by William Paul Young (okay, I will most likely not, seeing as he has his own media company to do so), this song would be playing at the scene where the protagonist truly sees for a moment. With God’s eyes.

I heard an indescribably beautiful melody in my mind while reading it, and this song conjured up the scene immediately. This comes closest to what it could possibly sound like. Read the excerpt below (apologies for the rough translation back to English from German) and you will hopefully understand why.

” ‘Now look around, Mackenzie,’ Sarayu said.

He did and the sight cut his breath. Even in the darkness of the night all things shone with an enormous clarity and were surrounded by colorful halos of light. The wood was virtually burning, its colors were shining so. Every single tree was clearly identifiable, each and every twig, each leaf. Birds and bats were leaving glowing traces of their flight behind them…

Wrapped in a robe of colorfully flaming light, a sea hawk dove toward the surface of the lake, opened its wings in the last instant, and swept close to the surface, whereby sparks fell onto the water from his wings like snowflakes. As if to celebrate the successful hunt, a large trout sprang up from the water behind the hawk, clad in rainbow, and submerged in the water again in a colorful rain of water drops.

Mack felt larger than life because he was able to be wherever he was looking, from where he was standing. … Without giving it another thought, he stretched out his arm. Then he realized, bewildered, that he himself stood in flames. He observed his hands, beautifully formed and clearly recognizable in the colorfully glowing cascades of light … And then he saw the lights. Individual, moving points emerged from the woods and gathered in the field. Now he saw the lights everywhere, descending the slopes of the mountains, coming closer. He watched them emerging from among the trees, disappearing from sight again, following invisible paths and trails.

Then they appeared on the field, an army of children. There were no candles—they themselves were the lights. They tread the meadow with silent majesty and grace, their faces beaming with fulfillment and bliss. The older children were holding the younger ones by the hand. … Like the flash of a thousand cameras in a stadium, new lights blazed up again and again as they giggled or whispered to each other.

Behind them adults were approaching the field and stood in a larger circle behind the children. Their lights were larger and glowing still colorful, but a bit more muted than that of the children.”

Even the timing of the song is perfect. After the voice of the children the adults start singing, a bit “paler” but invoking the same goosebumps. The whole song is full of light, sparks and colors. I hope you see it too.

Song Boy 1904 © Jónsi & Alex

Text excerpt from The Shack © William Paul Young & Windblown Media

Filed under William Paul Young boy 1904 child choir jonsi music riceboy sleeps shack