CMYK

(Tonight's workout accompaniment: Franz Ferdinand [Incidentally, "40’" is my new favorite song. Then again, I dig any song in which "la la la" is delivered sarcastically, or a death-inspired "do do do do be do do do" as in Rhett Miller's "Dang Me."])

Here's a question for you printing & publishing geeks out there. Why do we refer to process printing as "CMYK" when, in fact, the ink is applied in the order Yellow, Magenta, Cyan, blacK? Is it because YMCK sounds too much like YMCA? Are we afraid the art department or design team is going to dress in obnoxious costumes and devise hand motions and a theme song to describe their favorite web or rotogravure process?

(Today I learned that I can use process separations in hand screen printing. I learned how to do separations in Photoshop. There was much rejoicing.)

I don't care…

…that Franz Ferdinand is no longer going to play the part of the Weird Sisters in Goblet of Fire, they're a great band nonetheless. That being said, the guys from Radiohead are a much-better choice, especially for those of us who would probably have ended up at the Yule Ball with a creep.

Headline crisis averted

"Evan: Child of God and rock star"

Amazingly, it only took me three design-hours to notice it sounded a little suspect.

"Dress like refugees…"

As Brian has noticed, it's pledge-drive time for those of us addicted to NPR. On Friday night, I was preparing for a dinner party I was having and listening to the pledge drive while I frantically cleaned the kitchen.

I was especially excited because I have a crush-from-afar on one of the Chicago NPR personalities. (Rather, I had a little crush-from-afar on him.) I would swoon every time he announced which Buddhist holiday it was on his Saturday morning hosting shift. Rumor had it he visited in the building in which I work only a month ago, to do some reporting a story on faith and politics. (Swoon.) He also is a member of my particular religious tradition, about my age and not bad looking. (Swoon.)

So, I was rather enjoying the pledge drive. Until it came time for the crush-from-afar and another local host to discuss the promotional sweatshirt they're giving away at the whatever-amount-a-month level.

"I think this should be the new station uniform," crush-from-afar said. "Because most of the people here dress like refugees."

I couldn't believe it. He'd actually said "dress like refugees." On the air.

I listen to NPR for its nuance in reporting major conflicts and sensitive issues. Not glib comments about people fleeing disaster areas.

I attend a church where a number of the congregants are from Sudan, Liberia and the Ivory Coast. Many of them are refugees. One new friend, whom I'm helping to learn English and American customs, is a refugee herself.

None of them dress in a manner worthy of the cliché such as that used by the host.

In fact, my refugee friend from the Ivory Coast and I went shopping for winter-appropriate shoes on Sunday. We picked out some very stylish shoes for her job, and a nice pair of tennis shoes.

When I got home from work today, I found a letter from my dad containing $100. It was from the money my Grandma left when she died earlier this year. My dad suggested we use it to help my friend buy some winter clothes.

I think it's a great idea. Especially since she's been in America three months and has no idea how cold the winters can be in Chicagoland.

So. When I'm through with helping her shop this Sunday, "dress like a refugee" will be a compliment of the highest order.

Sure, it violates my lease …

But my formerly grungy apartment entryway is now a swanky black.

A little help?

Anyone know what size tee-shirt Alan Rickman would wear?

Hello, my name is … SCOT94.


After the gym tonight, I stopped off at the grocery. My timing coincided with that of everyone who was swinging by the grocery on their ways home from work.

So I decided to go through the "self-checkout" line, since I had only a small amount of groceries. I'm generally leery of self-checkouts, since they rely on pressure-sensitive plates to determine whether you've actually bagged your groceries. As someone who lives in an apartment, up a flight of staris, I prefer as few bags of groceries as possible. So I cram everything into one bag, which messes with the pressure-sensitive device. Anyhow. I went through it, with only one hitch, and walked out to my car.

Something compelled me to read my receipt, and I noticed the fourth line reads: "Hello. I'm SCOT94."

My grocery check-out machine not only completed a transaction with me, but it had a name.

Anthropomorphism has gone too far.

We’re in business!

After a day of collecting supplies, my serigraphy career is now underway. The first shirt I printed is exactly as beautiful as I'd imagined.

Web site coming soon, custom orders welcome.

Just a little project …

I've decided to take up screen printing.

Why?

First, because as a graphic designer I've seen the resurgence of screen-printed tee-shirts courtesy of Abercrombie and Fitch and Old Navy and I've thought: "I can do better."

Second, I really want to start making my own Harry Potter-inspired tees. Clothing dark and evocative enough to match the tenor of the most recent book and movie. My first project? Severus Snape a la Che Guevarra. (Meckhead, you can stop laughing now. You're gonna be jealous when you see it.)

Third, because well-designed tees rarely fit well. And good-fitting shirts are rarely well-designed.

Fourth, because I can't get my tattoo until my arms are more muscular, so I have to do something with the logo in the meantime.

Lest I thought this would be an inexpensive or simple hobby, here's my ever-growing list of supplies:

monotone art - check!

strectched screen and frame - check!

squeegee - check!

thumbtacks - check!

chemicals - check!

monotone art photocopied onto transparency - Kinko's

cardboard box - Container Store

black paper - Dick Blick Art Materials

photoflood bulb - Dick Blick Art Materials

clamp lamp - Home Depot

2 clamps - Home Depot

disposable pie tin - Dominick’s

spray bottle - Container Store

cut-to-fit glass - Home Depot

electrician's tape - Home Depot

cardboard - Container Store

tee shirt (pink or soft green) - Old Navy

fabric screen printing ink (black) - Dick Blick Art Materials


I took Monday off work as a personal day because I know by the time I've assembled all my supplies I'll want a whole day to work.

Once I've mastered art and words I'll be open to suggestions and — maybe — orders. I know Dave already has some great pithy sayings.

No more split pea …

Ligature has a new look. What do you think?

Medievalized

When Brian and I were at the stained glass museum at Navy Pier two weeks ago, we learned a new word: medievalized.

I've been dying to use it since then, and I've had the idea for this blog post for a long time. So here goes:

My medievalized life

Last year was the first year I dated someone who would have been a medieval warrior, had we lived in the Middle Ages. Actually, he wouldn't have been an in-the-trenches warrior himself, but a commander of an army. He was a strategist: cool, calculating and overconfident. It was quite a departure for me.

It's probably well it didn't work out. Being with the warrior-type makes me long for deep philosophical conversations, romance, and an appreciation of art and music.

I'm usually attracted to the type of men who would have worn flouncy shirts and spent their days writing poetry under trees. Perhaps they'd laud the land's fine warriors in verse, or compose the songs of battle. They definitely would not have joined in the fray themselves.

As much as I love them, they're usually a little too sedentary, a little too introspective, for a fulfilling relationship. I have enough introspection to go around. Being with other artists makes me restless for adventure.

I've also been known to fall for the priest-types (well, that would have been illegal then, of course) and those with political ambition, perhaps the town mayor.

Because women were generally absent from theology and politics, these would have never worked out. I would not have been content to be the spouse of a priest or politician. I would have caused trouble by being to outspoken or competent in my husband's line of work.

Who would I have been? There would have been pressure to marry, of course. Since women weren't considered good for much else in the Middle Ages. I could escape marriage by joining a convent. Probably would have. Or I could have retreated to a hillside cottage by myself and become an eccentric, considered a witch by the townsfolk.

If I were forced to marry, the best option would probably have been to wed a scholar. He'd have to have been liberated enough to put up with my desire to read (heaven forbid!) and take an interest in his work. We would find adventure and poetry and art in the world of books together. Perhaps we'd have a secret school for girls, or hold salons in our home for the intelligentsia.