I bit the bullet weekend before last and upgraded my production Mac to OS X 10.11, i.e. OS X v11, i.e. “El Capitan.”
I’ve been around long enough that this is my second Apple “El Capitan” product. A bit over 13 years ago* I purchased a G4 PowerMac with the El Capitan case design, which had been introduced a few years earlier in more colorful form. (That particular model was, I notice, codenamed “Yosemite,” so apparently Apple has been on this whole Yosemite National Park kick before… cue mutterings about the company immediately getting stuck in the past since Steve Jobs powered down…)
The El Capitan case was a pretty great design, aside from the fact that it was a giant boat-anchor, like many computers before 2005 or so. How about the El Capitan operating system?
It’s okay. In truth, I think my biggest complaint may be the redesigned Finder icon (which took place in 10.10, actually). It could be that I’ll appreciate this with time, but right now it just seems ugly and stupid:
Seriously, though, that’s my main complaint after a week.
I have spent not quite a year, now, contributing creative services to grassroots campaign Save Lakewood Hospital. The jury is still out on whether or not the campaign succeeds—right now we could really use your help, even one minute’s worth, particularly if you live in Lakewood—but it’s always going to be an effort I recall with pride. As a grassroots organization, the reality has by no means been complete control of every detail, but in a way I have been gratified most by seeing something I designed take on a life entirely its own:
Another little drawing commission. Chartres Cathedral:
This was photo reference, as you might guess. It was not my own photo reference because, when I was here, this face was largely covered in scaffolding. Fortunately Mr. Internet has my back.
This was fun. Newly approved logo for Ravelin, ltd:
Both name and design are drawn from an architectural feature of star forts, which are just about as cool as they sound. This one is highly abstracted, but showing only a piece of the larger fort shape while the complete ravelin (that bit at the top) breaks the frame emphasizes that this is Ravelin, ltd not Starfort, ltd.
Granted, I expect it will still be somewhat mysterious to most people—I didn’t know that ravelin was even a word before this commission—but a measured vagueness is probably okay as the client is still working out what Ravelin will do anyway.
To mark 15 years since completing formal graphic design studies and officially beginning a graphic design professional career… I have decided to abbreviate 15 years in 15 seconds. Just because.
I can provide notes for each second, but it feels like this might defeat the purpose. Let me know.
Twas a good era, for me at any rate. Mostly.
It seems to be very gradually fading out, now. Once or twice per year, another of my go-to news sites redesigns to get rid of the old “big board” homepage, jammed with a few dozen headlines at once. Many switch to a kind of single-column blog format, like NPR.org and cleveland.com. (In the case of the latter, I discovered recently that its current hideous format is shared by other Advance Publications tendrils.)
Then there’s what I think of as the Slate model, which is kind of a bastard hybrid; instead of a single column story feed dominating the homepage, there are many multicolumn sections sort of like the old big board format, except more space and pictures mean that you still only see a handful of headlines “above the fold,” i.e. without scrolling and scrolling. In addition to Slate, its preppier offspring Vox, as well as sfgate.com are examples of this type.
I’ve concluded that this trend is probably now solidly beyond its tipping point, following ESPN.com recently adopting a blog format homepage. This is particularly disappointing, as it was relatively recently that I switched to ESPN.com as my primary sports guide, from its long-time predecessor Sports Illustrated. As SI.com has a kind of bottomless Slate-format homepage, these days, I doubt that I will bother switching back.
Instead, it seems like just one more thing toward which to sigh, and then resign myself.
I feel like I had already learned quite a bit about Japan before visiting for the first time, recently. There were, nonetheless, surprises. (Probably either a reminder of how distant Japan is from north Atlantic culture despite surface familiarity, and/or a sign that my knowledge was much more shallow than I thought; Japan disclaimer.)
Two discoveries stand out, from lots of other interesting experiences. In both cases I was mildly shocked, honestly, not only because I had never learned of these seemingly basic cultural practices before, but also because it still took about three days walking around Tokyo before the penny really dropped.
For days, I was surrounded by advertising, signs and other messages that were largely familiar in style and some times in content, even if most of the specific text was lost on me. Throughout those days I grew more and more puzzled by the rarity of URLs; here and there I saw what was obviously an internet address, but the great majority of advertisements, brochures etc., seemed to lack any discernable internet reference.
Then, at last, I figured out (I think) what I had been missing. While relatively few layouts included a URL, nearly all included something like the following:
Months in the making, I recently completed a new product brochure for DuPont Pioneer. I have added the cover and a sample spread to Modern Alchemy’s online portfolio.
I am rather happy with the appearance of this, from a straightforward standpoint, not to mention in light of various challenging circumstances for all involved.
As usual, I am limited in terms of what I can share, where, and respectful of client wishes. But do click through and have a glance.
I hope most people are familiar with the “bring out your dead” scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. (And familiar with the whole movie, really.) I’m reminded of it, a bit, by “The 7 Signs That Desktop Publishing is Failing You” by Amelia Salyers, which argument I stumbled upon the other day.
Ms. Salyers’ comments are mostly, and openly, a sales pitch for the offerings of her employer Inkling. Unsurprisingly, there are large holes in many of her assertions. Her overall thesis that “most desktop publishing software has reached the end of its useful life,” meanwhile, seems rather like the villager insisting that the old man slung across his shoulder was fit for the corpse cart, despite the old man’s quite audible protests to the contrary.
I make this comparison not only because it amuses me, however; I think it’s also apt in more ways than one. True, traditional desktop publishing platforms are hardly so near death as someone interested in seeing them off may want you to believe. At the same time, though, I think there is a further resemblance to the old man, who was alive enough to insist that he felt happy and might go for a walk… but was at the same time so feeble that he remained flopped over the younger villager’s shoulder, unable to mount any more vigorous defense.
I confess that at least one or two traditional publishing platforms do seem, like that old man, ready to be put out of their misery. Or at any rate, out of our misery.