Så har jeg boet i Danmark knap en måneds tid, og har faldt godt på plads i en dejlig stor lejlighed på Åboulevard. En del tid har gået med at orden det praktiske ting som følger med når man flytter, men jeg har også haft nogle chancer til at komme ud og se byen lidt. Her er nogle snapshots fra marts i København.
While working on a larger illustration for a website project, I particularly enjoyed drawing these two little fish. In researching the project, animal symbolism played a heavy role and I thought this thought fit nicely: In China, the fish is symbolic of fidelity and unity, as it is noted that koi often swim in pairs. The fish below aren’t koi – they look more like salmon-trout-koi hybrids that are swimming up a noodle river – but they sure look happy.
Late in 2011 my friend Mark and I created the Goodie Monster, a vending machine that lives in Portland, Oregon. Placed in a Chinatown creative office building, he serves healthy snacks to building tenants and passerby’s. However, right outside the entrance to the Goldsmith building is the Church of Elvis. How was a fur-clad vending machine supposed to compete with such a spectacle? With a fuzzy come hither sign that lets people know there are tasty snacks waiting right inside. Come and get your Justin’s Nut Butters, people, and find your way using this fuzzy face to guide you.
A week ago today was leap day, February 29th, the day that occurs once every four years on a leap year. Good thing we have smart scientist people to tell us that the Earth isn’t always exactly on time, and we need to make up for it every fourth year and every couple of decades with an extra day.
A week ago today I also made a leap. A leap of taking the Bureau abroad to see if the independent designer lifestyle and running a small business could really transcend continents. A leap to see what the next year in life will bring me. And, boy howdy, so far it has brought me a 600% increase in pickled herring consumption.
Leap year also made me pause to consider the markers we all use to gauge time. It’s easy to get bogged down in daily routine, so I choose to look at these anomalies in an otherwise flatline of days and months and years as a time to look back, and look forward. Take stock, rearrange, and make some plans for what you want to accomplish.
What leaps do you want to take?
Blogging here at The Bureau will return momentarily, after I’ve moved continents and made a trip to the nearest IKEA. The next electronic transmission will be broadcast from Wonderful Copenhagen, so stay tuned!
Portland, Oregon, is a city for creatives, and being born and raised in this pioneer state fills my heart with pride. From the wild nature and diverse landscapes to the laid-back bustle of a small big city making a quiet but reputable name for itself, there aren’t many places that could trump Portland as a place to call home.
But if ever there was a place to compete for my territorial pride, it would be Denmark. At first glance, you might be lured in by the pickled herring, but I assure you there is more to this land than stinky fish and long, cold winters. There is a social structure that, hopefully, enables security for the masses. There are traditions and a language that I grew up with but have slowly felt slipping away from me as I grow older. And of course, there is the majority of my family, firmly planted in the country from whence my mother came.
So, after many trips to the motherland over the past two years, I’ve decided to go Transatlantic for a year, give or take. Sure, I’ll miss many things about Oregon, but in return for my continent hopping I hope to be rewarded with new challenges and experiences that will make me a better designer, business owner, and participant in this world. Come March, I will have arrived in Copenhagen to start an adventure that I can’t wait to decipher. Literally.
What does this mean for The Bureau? The Bureau will continue abroad as it has here in the US: partnering with talented small businesses and design agencies alike to make meaningful and beautiful things together. Whether these partners are in Portland or Copenhagen or Timbuktu is not of concern to me.
One of the main reasons I quit my agency job two years ago to become an independent designer was the freedom that it affords. Working on a variety of projects, and working hard – but also taking time off and seeing other parts of the world. So, with passport in hand I am going to make good on the mantra of freelancers that ‘you can work from anywhere’. Be assured, The Bureau will thoroughly test that theory.
True, some projects require a designer to be on-site, but many do not. And a few in-person meetings or “did you see so and so at such and such” will be replaced by emails, Skype (isn’t technology great?), and a schedule on my end that accommodates U.S. working hours. Need a European correspondent on a project? Detailed in-person notes about the state of the siesta in Spain? I’m your girl. Plus, I promise to keep you updated on my growing collection of Danish buttons.
So, plan your next trip abroad to see Copenhagen and I will take you on a tour of a city rife with design, culture, and yes, stinky fish. Or follow along with my adventures here on my blog. And as anyone embarking on such a journey needs, wish me luck!
Want to fill in my seat while I’m away on European adventures? My desk is for rent as part of a 4-person shared studio space in downtown Portland, Oregon. Located in Chinatown, enjoy 3rd floor views of the city, giant windows, a building full of talent and a vintage globe for planning your own adventures. Interested? Contact Darin at darin@refreshmedia.com for more details.
This Monday I spent the evening participating in an event called SHARE, organized by Kathleen Lane. I was excited to be invited, meet some new people, and spend time making something that wouldn’t involve staring at a computer screen.
The format of the event involves bringing together a group of creatives, giving them a one-word prompt, and then seeing what they make over the course of 2 hours that is related to the word. At the end, each person shares what they have made in a small, intimate setting that reminded me a bit of opening presents on Christmas eve: you never know what you’re going to get next, but more importantly you’re just thankful that you’re in good company.
I arrived at 6:30 to meet some of the other participants and eat some snacks (ginger chews can be long lasting and invigorating). After a few minutes of mingling, we received our prompt word: CRASH.
Immediately I thought of a new song I had been listening to called The Balcony by The Rumour Said Fire. There is a section towards the end of the song with some cymbals and base drums crashing. CRASH, I thought. This song sounds like crashing, but with other words. With my new framework of how to approach the prompt, I started listening to the song on my iPhone to see what I would find. After a few listens I decided to focus on the lyrics that felt like “crash” to me. These are the four phrases that I picked.
0:34 – So your mouth tastes like sunshine
1:15 – And the sound of your heartache
2:43 – The sound of when your hair falls down on the pillow late at night
3:03 – This song sounds like crashing, but with other words
3:06 – So take my hands love, there’s a burst inside our minds
After choosing the four phrases, I wanted to make a visual representation of them to put in the picture frames I had brought with me. So I sketched shapes that could be easily converted into a pattern for cutting felt pieces and making abstract images. It might seem convoluted, but at the time it made perfect sense inside my head. Plus, there wasn’t really time to stop and analyze it, which is part of what makes events like these so much fun. I spend most of my waking hours questioning and analyzing, but there was no room for that tonight!
When it came my turn to share I played the song, and as each phrase came up in the song I revealed the felt art and held up a piece of paper with the lyrics written on it. The less talking that I had to do, the better! Even though I felt very awkward presenting, people seemed to enjoy it, and one woman said she became verklempt. And indeed, she did look quite verklempt. I, too, feel verklempt sometimes.
And that is how the human brain works. Mystery solved.
I did a little bit of preparation beforehand by gathering some materials to bring with me (2 hours isn’t much time to make something from scratch). My materials list included:
white paper*, black stiff paper, glue*, thin wooden rods, various scissors*, pens, brushes & acrylics, pipe cleaners, thread and needles, tape, 187 (+/-) googley eyes, 4 IKEA picture frames*, and a box full of felt*. I also had a few ideas of what I might make – a mobile, some flags, or something in a picture frame. I ended up using the items marked with a *, but my idea of making a mobile or flags flew out the window within 30 seconds of receiving the prompt.
Here are the 2 process pictures I managed to take. Otherwise I was furiously cutting felt while tapping my foot to that very catchy song.
Timing wise I spent about 25 minutes figuring out what lyrics to focus on, 25 minutes to sketch the designs I would use as patterns to cut the felt with, and 65 mintues cutting and assembling the felt pieces. Oh, and of course 5 minutes at the end to clean up my mess!
SHARE #14 participants included:
New Participants
Kate Berube, illustrator/author
Meg Drinkwater, designer/maker
Erin Gardner, designer/maker
Joan Hiller, painter
Mette Hornung Rankin, designer
Cymbalman, musician
Liz Scott, writer
Cara Ungar-Gutierrez, out loud thinker
Returning Participants
Jim Brunberg, musician
Tim Combs, artist
Trey Corkern, photographer
Kathleen Holt, writer
Giuseppe Lipari, painter/sculptor
Lorna Nakelle, painter
Leann O’Rourke, photographer
Liz Prato, writer
Nora Robertson, writer/poet
Laurence Sarrazin, designer
Mark Saltveit, comedian/palindromist
Seeing what everybody else created was fascinating; a diptych illustration of two crashes a person had been through, jewelry molds that had been mashed together, a man donning a cymbal outfit and playing a song, short stories about love & loss & finding, and man recording all sorts of sounds that he made a song out of, and last but not least a palindromist who created the singular version of the word oops – all within two hours. If you let yourself be free, interesting things will happen.
SHARE is organized by Margaret Malone and Kathleen Lane. Recaps of each SHARE event can be found on their blog.
