Terrible Analogies

Arriving home last night, I found an oddly-sized envelope buried in the stack of mail on the kitchen counter.

“What’s this?” I asked Karin, who shrugged her shoulders.

Picking up the envelope I noted that the cancelled stamps originated from the Netherlands. “Hey, I think I know who sent this,” I said, hunting for the nearest sharped utensil I could use to open it up.

Seems my good internet friend Boris sent me a piece of signed artwork! Hey B, you’re the best! I knew you were having an exhibit of your work, but you didn’t have to do this. Not only did we get a wedding gift from you, but now we have an amazing example of your artwork.  You’re nothing short of awesome, brother!

Man, you meet some of the nicest people online. Even though we’ve never met in person, Karin and I are proud and honored to call you a friend. Thanks, B, for thinking of us!

As always, please let us know if you need anything from the States!

I first became enamoured with graphic design when The Designers Republic were big in the music scene during the 90′s.  Soon after I fell in love with the works of Jermaine Rogers, purchasing a few limited edition silk screened posters from him (it’s a shame I missed seeing him at the San Diego Comic Con this year).

This weekend I was lazily trawling the ‘net when I happened upon graphic designer Olly Moss’ site. His minimalist style immediately captures the essence of the subject matter. Olly’s so good at what he does he makes his work seem so effortless. It’s almost as if he’s channeling the spirit of a 70′s pulp book illustrator or a 1950′s ad man at the creative pinnacle of his career. His work would be equally at home hanging on the wall of an art museum or tacked to a telephone pole in a seedy part of downtown.  His visual message is so powerful that the location where it’s hung isn’t important, nor does it detract or enhance the work itself.

If I were a competing graphic designer, I’d hate to meet Olly in a dark alley.

This is just a small sampling of his work.  Check out Olly’s personal site, his Flickr account, and a quick rundown of some of his “movies in orange and black” posters.

The only question I have is, where can I purchase a print of his Locke poster?  Money is (almost) no object.

Seriously Olly…we can do this under the table.  No one need know…

M.C. Escher’s last work, Snakes, was completed in 1969, three years prior to his passing.  Escher used every possible moment in which he felt well enough to work on this last print.  There was no sign in the print or in the preliminary studies to indicate that Escher was running on his last reserves of strength.  It’s fascinating the will and determination certain individuals can conjure up, even in the face of death, to see one’s passion to completion.  Personally, I don’t know anyone who, mere moment prior to that final curtain call, would opt to paint a final perfect picture, snap an awe-inspiring photograph, or write a best seller rather than slow down, see a doctor, and get some rest.  

Being as frail as Escher was, to be able to produce a beautiful, detailed, final work of art before finally saying, “Well, that’s that then,” is nothing short of miraculous.  Heck, even in my most pristine, sober state, I could never equal a work such as Snakes.

Drawn almost entirely freehand, these are some of the study sketches for Snakes

All of this got me wondering, what will my final contribution to society be before my time is up?  What will yours be?  Anything?  Or will you, along with millions of others, fade away and simply be replaced by the next drone in line?  Who will remember you 50, 75, or 100 years from now? 

It’s this question that bothers me.  Sure, the short-term goal is to provide for my family, but beyond that, what’s my higher purpose?  It’s this concern that has haunted me for many years.  There’s something inside that tells me I’m meant to do something.  I refuse to believe that I’m the only one who feels this way.

Perhaps I’ll find the answer sitting in front of a keyboard, behind the wheel of a large automobile, or even staring down the business end of a shotgun.  Who can say when and where divine inspiration will strike, but believe me brother, it’s not enough to wait for that guiding hand…will I be prepared to reach out and grab hold when it does?

Oh, and kudos to you if you immediately spotted my reference to the Talking Heads. *fist bump*