I saw these limited edition prints on Maison Alice, recently founded by German art director, Alice Hoffman. Currently living in Switzerland, she set-up the online store after realizing that her passion for illustration could be channeled into a digital venture.
”All day long I am searching for cool illustrations: old or new, coloured or black and white, 3D or linedrawed, on paper or on textile, in advertising or on bookcovers, on packaging or on the street, for children or adults, from China or from TImbuktu. Doesn’t matter. Through all theses different styles and influences I get my everyday inspiration.”
I’m transfixed by illuminated signage generally and now here’s an illustration of the same by New York designer, Jeff Rogers.
A visual height chart for characters and such.
(Made by ~swiftgold on DeviantART.
Costume exploration from the 1920s.
Went for a walk today and it got me thinking about what a strange combination of stimuli we have in parks and nature today. As I sat on a boulder on the side of the Mississippi river across from the north side of Nicollet Island where I live, I pondered as I ate a boiled egg I brought with me and prepared to sketch for a bit. However, it just wasn’t in me to draw so instead I started to write preferring that medium to better represent the sound and sensation I was observing.
There was the warm wind rustling in the trees that were changing to yellow and red and only a few letting go of their leaves to the last summer breezes. A beautiful day for the wedding parties that would pull up to the old wooden stairs overgrown with forest foliage and troop down them carefully to the old iron bridge for pictures. The air would fill with laughter and gaiety as they came, with a photographer’s slightly frustrated calls as she attempted to herd them into some semblance of order for pictures.
That would soon be replaced with the electronic whir of the twenty odd people on a Segway tour which would roll across the bridge to a moderately quiet discourse on the history of the area. A sudden splash and squeal of a girl resounded through the area as she caught her first fish of the evening and soon after the quiet troll of the motor would start up and drone away as the boat moved back in place up river. The sirens of emergency vehicles split the air coming to the park for some reason unknown. I feel a slightly morbid curiosity to know what has happened but also hope that everyone is safe. And then back to a quiet river, the only sounds are the quiet buzz of the last locusts, small swarms of gnats, the rustle of a small creature in the drying grass, the hoot of an owl and the last twitters of birds before night.
The rumble whooshing of an aircraft overhead grasps my attention and I am left to contemplate, after several more aircraft, how the sound is different for each and how much sound we experience outside from aircraft alone.
I am once again left in quiet watching my shadow lengthen and I can hear the quiet whirring buzz of power lines nearby. A jingle of leash and collar and the crunch of gravel underfoot signals some people walking their dog and the gentle badump badump reaches me of some cyclists crossing over the wooden planking of the bridge. I look into the clear blue sky reflecting in the gently rippling water as the boat moves along and think it’s so strange how nature and modern life interweave. Some things feel harmonious, others conflicting. It is all perception but I think time helps. The longer something survives the more it becomes part of nature even if maintained. It’s like nature adopts it like this old, hundred year old bridge. An old timey steam whistle just blew and the bells of a train crossing have started sounding. I can now hear the rumble, low roar, and clanking of the train distantly on the track.
A church bell begins its ringing toll and some crows caw as they take off in flight. I check my watch, it’s time to head back. I have mixed feelings about leaving as it has been so enjoyable but I am at peace knowing that with time we may all find our place in nature.