shiny things in messy little piles

Archives for March 2008

Moving house

March 28, 2008 by lara

Intellectually rather than physically. That is.

It no longer makes sense to have two blogs.

All the tech/info design/geeky stuff that I’ve been involved in the past three months has been tied to my art, Jim’s photographs, or the small bits of the web for which I am the custodian. Making it most relevant to my more “artistic” blog and leaving little to post here.

Further adventures of the magpie can found at the site of her alter ego ms. shoes.

Cooking and Design

March 12, 2008 by lara

John Maeda is one of my heroes. He’s taking a new job at RISD in June. In one of his blog posts at our.risd.org he had this to say:

Also, some of the best artists and designers are great cooks. There is something to cooking that is not only inherently inventive, but also exemplifies the very nature of unselfish giving from the heart. What you could eat yourself, you choose to give to another as the most meaningful sustenance for survival.

Link

I believe in the image, the line, the stanza, the iambic foot, the perfect word. Assonance, slant rhymes, that the formal forms still have a place in modern poetry. I believe that Shakespeare wrote the plays. I believe in a constitutional amendment outlawing poetry about poetry and the use of the word “suffuse.” I believe in revision, interlinear translations, publishing in print — not on-line, and I believe in long, slow, deep, wet poems that last three days.

(after Ron Shelton)

Stinker

Once upon a time there was a little boy who had both a dog and a monster. This boy spent his summer days with the dog traveling out with him in the morning and returning each afternoon in the hottest part of the day to cool in the shade of the back porch with the […]

Questionable

Not quite a day late, but pretty much a dollar — or a piece of software and a margin change — short. So without further ado — or proper inking — I give you the first installment of The Big G.

Umbrella

Tomas looked down from the balcony. This house, the house he’d grown up in, was old, faded. The cool blues and sweet melons of his childhood forgotten and replaced with dry grays and dingy mustards. It was as if his mother had taken all of the color with her when she left. Papa had told […]

Line-by-Line

When I left, it was winter. I had arrived on a clear cold August night. Stopping on the butte overlooking the canyon, I wondered if there was any reason not to simply continue riding north. To be continued… First line courtesy of The Oracle. But yours won’t be the same.

Archives for March 2008

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