A View from Sweet Land, Q . Cassetti, 2011Humming along. I am continually surprised that the only way in, to a project is to actively start. That means do the research and collect it in one spot. It means starting the wheels going of looking at the type to see what is the, the relationships, the opportunities, the counters, ascenders, descenders, the letter family relationships and so on. The, there is the customizing, the drawing, the shape builds— the wallowing in my visual mis en place to see whether the visual spices and potions will be stirred together to make something wonderful or worthy for the waste bin. I have been pushing off this project for the rush job du jour, and decided yesterday to elbow a mess of time to start. I am so pleased I did as I am now on the path and am beginning to rocket my way into the heart of the visuals. Am searching out some nice handwriting inspired scripts along with marrying them with my favorites from Hoefler Frere-Jones, futura and bodoni. Have also been using a new illustrator feature (offset path) to create accurate outlines of shapes (mirroring the outside shape). A snap and I feel like I have wasted a ton of time…A changer.
I need to start making some pictures.
Kitty has put her energies to figuring out the seeing machine and serger. She has also been engaged by this ” the only way to begin is to begin” axiom and so the scissors are flying with little piles of scraps all over the place with contradance dresses made daily. We went to the fabric store and bought all sorts of yard goods for her to mess around with— from some peachy sari material to stretchy stripes. I see a dress form in her future as she is making people take their clothes off to use them as manikins.
Swimming in the cloudbowl last night was perfection. It is so stunning to swim when the light is changing to golden rays, glancing over the blue and purple lake while floating over the huge domed sky that frames us with clouds while the swallows dive and fly. It is the moment of the glittering summer that I like to press into my mind for the deep, velvet dark winter eves. We all slept the sleep of the tired.