In the upper-right cornerof the screenare some little circlesarranged in a gridthey are different colors—maroon, sky-blue, tan They remind meof circles I sawwhen I was very youngvery tactileI could almost taste them
Blog
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Thursday
Good day, classes were unstructured but engaging ( I hope)
Morning saw us getting passports for the kids. I wish it had been fun, but it wasn’t, because of the tide of grumpiness that gradually enveloped us.
Afternoon was great, a quiet time teaching the intern and students.
It’s the one-on-one interactions that make it fun. It’s the best way to teach.
Now I’m at snyder bar getting some wings, having a Guinness. All ok -
Lichess Patron Icon
I probably am on lichess.org more than any other single website, mostly losing chess games. It’s an absolutely perfect example of the best open-source software can be.
As an open-source project, the developers do not charge for membership. It’s totally free. There’s something extraordinarily humane and selfless about open-source, especially when it rises to the usage levels that Lichess and others (Linux, Blender, WordPress, e.g.,) have achieved.
Alternatively, closed-source projects usually offer a free membership, but include motetization strategies such as ads that only go away, or features that can only be accessed if you purchase a membership.
That’s not to say they don’t need money, but almost all of the revenue open-source make comes from donations.
One of the interesting ways Lichess monetizes is via the “patron” badge. If you donate at least $5, you get a little wingy icon next to your username:
That’s it–instead of a boring little circle, now you have a bit of “flair” that distinguishes you as someone who supports the hard work it takes to make an open-source project great. It’s a brilliant strategy to encourage donations. But I have to wonder, is it a feature? In other words, does paying for Lichess actually improve your chess skills and help you win more often? Does it help your rating improve?
I think this would be a great study. Lichess has a monumental open data set. One could conceivably analyse the data and determine that become a member does, in fact, make you a stronger player. At the very least, it would make you a stronger player on Lichess.
Symbolism and iconography have a powerful effect on us. They form our communication methodology and influence our decisions. When you play someone with a wingy badge, you may feel empathy toward them, and thus not play with your typical competitive drive. Or you may feel intimidation, or some other form of distraction that might throw you off your game, even if it’s just the tiniest bit. Placing the Lichess dataset under a microscope might reveal patterns that show that patreons are not only being supportive, they’re being tactical.
Here’s my hypothesis: becoming a Lichess patron makes you a better player. Time to get the abstract written.
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The extra icons
I did a ton of icons for the project icon contest, here’s a chart of ones that didn’t make the cut:
the losers -
Trip to Fordham
At the LGA getting ready to fly back to Buffalo.
Brian’s talk was great. I understood it well enough to get excited about the stuff he’s digging into.
Brian Dunkle S.J. Giving the Loyola Chair Lecture at Fordham University Highlights
The lecture
Trip to botanical gardens
The sausage slice at new moon pizza (might be best ever)
Dinner at zero Otto or something with bri and dad. Got more pizza, wood fired, diavolo- pretty good.
Mass w/bri
Drag me to hell on Netflix, great Sam raimi on Netflix. How did I not see that yet?
Lowlights
Dealing with work issues while trying to be in travel mode
Getting dropped off at terminal b instead of c
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On designing logos
I’ve designed a ton of fonts. I’ve designed a ton of icons. I’ve designed only a few logos.
I always lump logos into the other categories, because I take the same approach to their crafting: get to the core of the symbol/s’ purpose and express it basicly, purely, and fundamentally. Then build on that solid core into something that resonates, based on feedback and outcomes.
The problem with logos is that, unlike those other categories, they demand an immediate connection to an extremely specific audience: namely, the client.
Who is the client? Good question. The client is not an anonymous user of creative output. The client is not a disconnected associate with little to go on when evaluating your work. The client is a stakeholder in your value as a professional creator. The client needs your work to “work,” because if it doesn’t, the client has problems that you’re responsible for.
And the client is always right. Which means you can’t expect them to see things the way you do. They’re paying money.
The client anticipates glitz and glamour out of the gate. They immediately compare raw sketches to a fully armoured cavalier, repleat with plate armor set in golden trim smelted with golden trim acquired from valorous raids. They want it to look Las Vegas.
This is how it goes whenever I take on a new logo project, which is why I get so stressed out whenever one lands on my doorstep. On the one hand, nothing makes me more satisfied as a graphic designer than to see my designs “in the wild;” i.e., actually used by the client and viewed by people I have never met. I see that as an enormous responsibility, that if fulfilled, validates my self confidence as a bonifide designer.
On the other hand, there have been so many cases where I’ve poured my heart and soul into something I know is perfect, only to find out that the client hates it, or worse, doesn’t even notice it before it’s even left the gate.
I guess all I can do is to try different approaches. I look at work done by insanely talented people and wonder how they evaded these trysts. I can only conclude that they didn’t evade them, but instead learned from them and evolved into producers of content that appeals to the public they’re trying to reach. That’s what I’m trying to do.
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Things are better for my kids
A theme you hear is how parents want to make sure their kids have all the things they didn’t. I don’t get that. I had everything; my parents gave us lots of toys and good food and everything. Maybe it was being a child of the 70s/80s, when things were pretty plentiful.
Today I was proud to see my kid Grif riding his bike with his helmet on, while his friends went bare-brained. Growing up, I never wore a helmet, and I rode my bike everywhere. Most of what my kids have I had too, but at least they’re a little wiser.