Blog

I’ve given up asking clients for logos before just checking for them at from brandsoftheworld.com. I can’t fathom why every company’s logo ends up as a jpeg.

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.

I bought uofwp.com a long time ago and in a spark of inspiration decided to launch the site. There’s not much there for now.

Check it out:

uofwp.com

Looking out my window at the leaves
that finally came in the last few weeks,
and having played this video game Fortnight
where you build shieldish fortresses,
I can see that my tree building a shield
so it can incubate things along its thick brown branches
behind the green ruse we use, we and our crafty cousins,
to ward off the sun who loves the green
and forgets about us, and forgives the trees

icon_effect.zip

You can download this file and use it as a starting point when designing plugin icons, so that they resemble the default set in WordPress’ admin area. Copy and paste the effect applied to the rounded rectangle shape to your own vector shape in Photoshop.

I often think of Picasso’s famous quote, “Art is the sum of my destructions”. I’ve always gotten that. Whenever I make art, I feel like the second I’m close to that perfect line, shade, shape or texture, there’s all this pressure that I’m gonna fuck up.

When that happens, I imagine a little Picasso sitting on my shoulder, going “So why not fuck up royally?” And I give in. It’s easy, freeing, and I embrace the fuckup. I slash the pen, gouge the surface, rip it all up.

It never quite works, though. More often than not, I end up with a pile of mess. I chastise myself for wasting my time, paint, paper, canvas. I feel like a failure in little Picasso’s eyes. “You didn’t fuck up hard enough” I can hear him saying.

The little voice is easy to dismiss. Of course I can make something nice. Not destroy it. Nurture it, coax it along in its lousy, spineless, eager-to-please formulaic predictability. Eventually I’ll end up with something having at least a few people gazing, stoking my ego-fires.

But the best stuff I’ve always made happens when I give in. The only way to find that thing, the thing I want to leave behind, is to fuck up. Intentionally. Destroy that clean line, that perfect texture, that awesome font. Force myself to do it again, but better this time. And being aware of my doing it.