MP3 Heist, part II

I've been listening to Brian Eno and John Cale's collaboration Wrong Way Up for days now. It's nosing out Garbage's Version 2.0 for top-of-the-CD-stack right now. This has been a busy position; British Sea Power became my new favorite band a month or two ago, and for a while I was wearing out Arcade Fire, but Eno and Cale would hold that honor if only they were a band. Somebody needs to banish them to Kerguelen Island for a couple of years with only a recording studio and a little French restaurant. This is the most incredible thing I've heard in ages.

I've always thought the recording industry was being shortsighted to attack MP3 swapping, but now I realize how thoroughly mad they are. One high-quality MP3 stash and I'm all set to buy up the Eno and Cale back catalogs and start hunting down interesting jazz and quasi-jazz in the wake of St. Germain. Rick named all our old servers at Iridio after bands: blondie, lush, culture, ella, byrd, dandy, cocteau, breeder, marley, pixies, gusgus, and miles off the top of my head. I contributed radiohead, kraftwerk, and catherine. And now I'm inclined to go through the rest of them. (Score two so far for cocteau and pixies, and half points for gusgus.) Blondie I've already been listening to (from a roommate's MP3 collection, naturally) and they're pretty good.

The Great MP3 Heist

Rick has left our poor little team at work, in order to go back to doing cool stuff, having natural light, and that kind of thing. We are very sad about this. (We're really excited for him, though, and looking forward to the Big Party next Friday.)

On the other hand, he left his Powerbook behind; being a man of impeccable musical taste and generous spirit, he left his impressive MP3 collection intact. I tried slurping the whole thing up but iTunes told me I didn't have enough disk space. So I had to be choosy, but so far the highlights include Garbage's 2.0, St. Germain's Tourist, and the Gotan Project (which I already had, somewhere, but haven't seen lately). And I've hardly even gotten started. I think my next trip to Easy Street Records is going to be expensive.

Thanks Rick!

Oh, the kids these days

I've been thinking that when I go to college, I shouldn't have too much trouble with the cultural adjustment. But today Hampshire's admissions propaganda department sent out a link to a student's blog. Apparently the idea was to show us how cool it is to go to Hampshire.

Mein Gott. Reading that makes me feel about a hundred years older than her. And tired. She has a paragraph that I'm guessing has more words in it than this entire blog. I'm not at all sure I'm prepared to use the word "ginormous" or fight over Fruit Roll-Ups with my friends. I haven't even seen a Fruit Roll-Up in a very very long time. And Harry Potter is not even a little bit part of my cultural background—I read the first one and was entirely ungrippèd.

Not that this changes anything. But I hope there are some grown-ups there too, this notwithstanding. Otherwise I guess I will have to hang out with my sister more, just for cultural conditioning...

Calling cards

If there's time, I'd like to print some calling cards. I have a decent-size pile of light blue Magnani Pescia, and I'd certainly like to use the platen presses, which are lovely old cast-iron Industrial Revolution pieces. One is a Chandler and Price Old Style, with curved spokes on the flywheel, and the other is a Pearl with fabulous red pinstripes on the black paint.

On the other hand, October was a big letterpress casualty already. I don't regret that one bit—this has been the most amazingly mind-expanding and horizon-broadening thing—but I really really need to take care of some other things. Like college applications for instance. So I don't know. Perhaps I'll see if I can just do something not-too-complex in class time.

Letterpress progress

My letterpress project is nearly done now. I managed to fill up every spare moment I had in October with wandering around the library looking for ideas, sketching them up, setting type, setting the same text in half the typefaces in the shop, and otherwise getting things ready. Those things took so much time that I had to basically pick out paper and ink without thinking about them; I just went with the one clear vision of it that I had, which was black type and a dark blue linocut on light blue paper. I was thinking of more of a dusty cadet blue paper but oh well. Practically everyone recommended the Magnani Pescia, which was brilliant. Thick and soft and beautifully-textured and squishy, the type bites right into it and gives a very pleasing impression.

Getting all the rest of it together, especially setting my colophon (good lord, did I test a lot of typefaces for that) took so long I ran out of TA-supervised shop time to actually cut my paper. I was getting kind of concerned about that and considering who I would have to beg (probably Jynn) to help me cut it between then (Sunday afternoon) and my press date on Tuesday. But after leaving the print shop, I ran into Gabe from my class at Uptown Espresso, and as I was explaining my predicament I realized that we have a perfectly good print shop with a big paper cutter at work, so I went in Monday morning, picked up my paper, and took it in to work. Robert asked Matt to show me the ropes, which he very kindly and patiently did. I now know how to run a Heidelberg hydraulic paper cutter; that one must cut the edges that one wants to keep with the back side of the blade, so the pieces you want must be cut long and trimmed; and lots more, although there are still plenty of buttons that I have no idea of the purpose of. Thank you Matt! I owe you a broadside and a beer!

I took the day off of work Tuesday to mix my ink. Amy was there and helped me a great deal. She made me feel a lot better about using plain old black for my type pass, pointing out that not only would the play of light and shadow created by the impression of the type be as good as having a third color, black would look very handsome and not dull at all on the fine blue paper. She was exactly right.

Finally, with only a short sandwich and coffee break, I was ready to go on press. Robert (one of the TAs) and Brian (one of my classmates) assisted me on the Vandercook Number 4. Getting everything set up just right took a long time. Now and then, things like this make me realize that I take a long time at many, many things. Getting the alignment just right was hard, and I couldn't get the measurements to all add up, so I was convinced that the page or something was crooked. Robert had to gently upbraid me for trying to do everything with measurements and arithmetic and not just setting the thing up, straightening it up on press, and printing. I wonder who is right and in what context. Certainly I like to be meticulous and precise in my measurements in woodworking and that kind of thing; otherwise you wind up with crooked kayaks and downdraft tables that don't seal. But when in Rome...

We got through the first pass, producing 48 good pieces out of 60 that I cut. About a third of the spoilage was the expected test pieces during setup, while we got the alignment and ink coverage nailed down. Another third came from not adding ink until a piece came out without enough ink, which one can learn to avoid by listening to the inking rollers and adding ink before you run short. I need to work on that. Finally, I wrecked a disgusting number by forgetting to set the trip/print lever to print, producing only a faint and smudging impression.

That left about half an hour in class, so we cleaned up and Amy scheduled me to print the second pass—just the linocut, with my blue ink—with Robert on Sunday. Twelve hours away as of this writing. I went in today, got out my blue ink, brayered it onto my lino block, and pulled an ink proof onto one of the almost-but-not-quite-fully-inked spoiled pages. I was concerned about whether my blue was going to look good on the blue paper. It is. I've got a beta copy (I pencilled in a beta where the edition number would go) and I'm very happy with it. I only hope there's enough blue ink to get me through all 48. If not, I'll have to see if I can squeeze in another run later. At least if that happens I'll have a chance to use a different color, which would be interesting.

Ink Studies, refinement of

OK, after hitting the books on this all weekend, things look a little different. The front rank, the schools that appear to have both a strong liberal arts college nature and a very strong (for a liberal arts school) art department (or functional equivalent), are Brown, Hampshire, Sarah Lawrence, and Bard. Macalester and Wesleyan appear to be equally strong as liberal arts colleges but do not quite appear to be in the same class in respect of their art departments. Carleton appears to trail those two by a little bit, again only in the art department. There seems to be a noticeable gap between it and Reed, Grinnell, and Vassar in that category, which I am afraid are definitely in the third rank on that basis.

More disturbingly, it appears that there is no way to get a BFA without being a somewhat-accomplished artist at college-application time, and that the BFA level is where one obtains a real design education (see RISD, Parsons, etc). This is a great injustice, if not a violation of my human rights. I think this will have to be resolved by calling up people in the art department at these schools and asking "how do I become a graphic designer or some such thing if I go to your school?"

Brown has a misnamed Resumed Undergraduate Education program, which applies even to old fogies like myself who are not resuming any undergraduate education but beginning it, just a little later than everybody else. It sounds perfect and wonderful, except that it sends its admission notifications approximately May 1. What happens on May 1? Let's see. It is International Worker's Day for one thing. Anything else? Oh yeah, it's the day when all of the other schools require you to tell them whether you are accepting their admission offers. Does a college application plan consisting of "stake everything on Brown" strike anyone else as, um, brave?

P.S. In the spring of 2005, Bard offered a Foundations: Constructivism class. That is just unspeakably cool.

Ink Studies

I've been starting to go over my college list again, this time with art firmly in mind. I don't know whether I want to major in it, but I certainly want to get much more into the visual arts than I have before. And having some kind of letterpress / book arts facilities and courses would be very cool, too. A brief check, starting from my existing list, shows a few that clearly have this: Bard, Bowdoin, Carleton, Macalester, and Sarah Lawrence for sure, possibly the Amherst colleges via Smith. Still need to find out if us menfolk are allowed to take Smith classes or what. Interesting, though, that Reed, Oberlin, and Grinnell don't seem to, although Reed at least has a wonky, specifically "nontraditional" book-arts class or two. Probably not the decisive factor, but it does keep Bard and Sarah Lawrence high on my list, for sure. A little disappointing about Oberlin. [Update: Reed does have a Reprex letterpress. Missed it the first couple of times. Google to the rescue, naturally.] I'll have to look at the others I mentioned in more depth.

Also, a number of these (have to go back and look again, but Bowdoin, Grinnell, Hampshire, and Oberlin for sure) have preparatory programs for students intending to go into architecture and urban planning. Perhaps not essential, but very helpful, to be sure. And... oh... I have to remember what that one school was that offered a sort of one-year post-undergrad urban-planning prep program. I think it was in New York, for some reason, but NYU doesn't sound quite right. Hmm.

Time to get moving on this, no doubt about it.

Creativity, visual and otherwise

My working hypothesis about the pain and difficulty of this whole broadside-design process is that creating visual stuff is a structured creative process kind of like writing, where you need to learn—or be trained in—the techniques and modes of thought involved to get to the point where you can effectively just turn your brain on and start making something. I can write tolerably well, but I clearly remember just how hard it was to learn, how many hours my dad spent working with me on it, and how noticeably my skills developed through endless revisions for school. Hopefully there is a similar process ahead of me here.

I really wish I had had any meaningful involvement with art before, so I could at least have an idea whether this is true. It certainly could be that it's more like programming, where if you don't have the true aptitude you're wasting your time, and if you do have it you realize that pretty quickly. I hope not, though.

An interesting linguistic note

I was reading Neil a funny article at work today, and while I was only lightly paraphrasing it, without even really meaning to I transformed "it's trivially easy to wire up one of these yourself" to "it's trivially easy to wire one of these up yourself". It wasn't that I misread it, I was just rephrasing it in the most natural way to say it, but it was a striking difference even as I said it. Logically, I think the way jwz wrote it ("wire up one of these") makes more sense than "wire one of these up", but I wonder whether it's a regional usage difference or what. It reminds me of this, where asking Australian shopkeepers "how late are you open until?" drew blank looks, but "when do you close" worked just fine. In both cases it seems to have to do with the preposition wandering off by itself.

A linocut at last

I've finally got a concept I'm fairly happy with for my broadside. I found a great design, basically a silhouette of two men, one pointing up at the sky (implicitly, an airplane overhead) and one looking up at it with binoculars. Even though they are shown in silhouette, the figures are clear enough, their poses are striking, and the vertical focus of it is just wonderful. It sort of squares with the "dream in color, dream in volume" thing... sort of... I'm calling it close enough.

The obvious aviation angle makes me want to dig through Wind, Sand, and Stars again, but when I picked it up a week or two ago I was really surprised how bombastic it seemed. Perhaps bombastic is not quite the word, but unsubtle? Direct? Certainly not the captivating and romantic impression I remember from the first umpteen times I read and reread it. Maybe I need to just sit down and read it properly, not skim it in a tearing hurry. But that worries me, all the same. Maybe it's the first stage of Postmodern Disease.

That aside, I think I have a good enough concept to move forward and start pulling proofs of various bits of text in different fonts and experimenting with layout, font combinations, and all that. The "words like gods" broadside hanging up in the print shop is still inspiring; I especially like how the lines in large type form are reasonably coherent all by themselves, even though they are just isolated bits of what Shakespeare wrote. I wonder if there isn't some potential with that, perhaps "all of us... dream in color... dream in volume... fabricate" or something. The shop is open in the evening tomorrow, and I intend to get down there as early as I can and start experimenting.

Finally some headway

I've been treading water horribly on my project, which is to make a broadside for my letterpress class. I think, though, that I'm starting to make a little progress. I'm pretty sure I'm going with the middle Coupland quote there (didn't find any more in Microserfs, on which more later):

I get this little feeling that we can all of us speed up the dream, dream in color, dream in volume, and dream together down south. We can, and will, fabricate the waking dream.

Which is certainly the most poetic thing anyone has said about software. The wrinkle here is that I need to put in some kind of linocut. My current thoughts are to find perhaps some kind of Socialist Realist hammering-man type of thing for the "fabricate" concept, or perhaps Athena. I like the Athena concept more and more as I think about it. Easier to find material, for sure--apparently Socialist Realism isn't considered to rate the same representation in the library as, say, Constructivism or any other ism you might name. Which is about right in my opinion, except it would be convenient right now.

Pynchon

In a moment of weakness, when I had to buy a copy of Gravity's Rainbow for reasons of Art, I was unable to resist taking V. off the shelf too. (A brand-new edition, even!) I don't know how long my self-control will hold out against subterranean alligator hunts or checking whether Seaman Bodine shows up in there also.

I was contemplating using the Kenosha Kid sequence from Gravity's Rainbow for my letterpress project, but once I counted the words even for a minimal presentation of it, just three or four construals, it was pretty clear that it wasn't going to work. I'm not sure it would have the desired impact anyway without at least most of the construals. Besides, I definitely need something about an order of magnitude shorter and less subtle for a broadside.

Microserfs quotes, part 1

I've discovered a few remarkable quotes from Microserfs, along with the "SF coffee bar circa the Dawn of Multimedia" one. (And doesn't that just pin down its time period? A couple of years later and we forgot all about multimedia...)

pp. 28

On the Campus today at sunset, people were stopping on the grass watching the sun turn stove-filament orange through the rain clouds.
It's just something I noticed. It made me realize that the sun is really built of fire. It made me feel like an animal, not a human.

pp. 89

I get this little feeling that we can all of us speed up the dream, dream in color, dream in volume, and dream together down south. We can, and will, fabricate the waking dream.

pp. 115

Should some future historian ever feel the need to duplicate an SF
coffee bar circa the Dawn of Multimedia, they will require the following:

• thrashed PowerBooks covered with snowboarding and Chiquita banana stickers
  
• a bad early 1980s stereo (the owner's old system, after he upgraded his own personal system)
  
• used mismatched furniture
  
• bad oil paintings (vaginal imagery/exploding eyes/nails protruding from raw paint)
  
• a cork bulletin board (paper messages!)
  
• sullen, most likely stoned, undergrads
  
• multi-pierced bodies
  
• a few weird, leftover 1980s people in black leather coats and black-dyed hair
  
• nightclub flyers
  

[come on, this is 2005 and I have to leave off the closing tags on my list items? - Ed.]

Microserfs

Last night I started reading Microserfs again. The first couple of times I read it, I enjoyed it enormously. This time, I picked it up and started leafing through randomly, and I had to put it down several times, saying "oh God, I can't read this." It is frighteningly precise, like a prophecy of my own life. A terrifying thing to hold in one's hand.

At least it gives me hope and inspiration too. And to think I only picked it up in the first place to mine it for quotes for a letterpress project. (Coupland is as quotable as anyone, that's for sure. On which more later.)

Hello World!

I think this will make me the last Internet person to enter the blogosphere. To begin with, I'm going to write about interesting things I am reading. I'll probably throw in the odd piece about letterpress or Seattle or tech stuff or something, but I think I'll mostly let other people handle the tech blogging.