Milton Glaser On Using Design To Make Ideas New

TED Talks (Ideas Worth Spreading) is one of my all-time favorite sources for Great Stuff.  So imagine my delight to find this video of one of my all-time favorite people there as well.

Of course, it’s really no surprise to find Milton Glaser among the TED archives, but I’d not seen this one before. (For those of you outside of the design world, Milton Glaser is the living, legendary icon of the graphic design and illustration world; the guru, the master. A glance at his bio will give you a good overview.)

Having regretfully missed seeing him this week in New York for the launch of his new book, Drawing Is Thinking, this was a sort of virtual, substitute visit.

Milton is a marvel. A man of superior intellect and talent, with a wonderfully unassuming manner for someone of his stature. And as if we need any more proof, he recently received the National Medal of Arts – the first designer to achieve this recognition.

In his 80’s now, he recently told me he’d work as long as he can. Which, as I see it, is lucky for us.

Enjoy the “visit”. He’s a voice, and a mind, infinitely worth hearing.

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Destination: Perth Amboy (Travels with Jose and Nick)


Destination: Perth Amboy Art Gallery Center For the Arts for the opening reception of “The Many Faces Of Eve” exhibit, in which some of my work is exhibited along with 7 other women artists. And as is often the case, the journey was more than half the fun.

We’re a party of four: Jose, Nick, my daughter Carolyn and myself. I drive, because Jose grew up in Florida and drives with trepidation at 40 mph on the highway. Nick lives in the New York City and I understand that the last time he drove was on a vacation out west 10 years ago. Nick and Jose think I am an amazing driver, and revel at my “calm”. They sit in the back so they don’t get nervous as I effortlessly dart in and out of lanes with practiced care.

Jose and Nick, both prolific artists, carry on their typically fascinating repartee on history, the arts and socio-cultural snippets in a brilliant, almost stream-of-consciousness style. Cruising down Rt. 287, we cover Hitler, Mussolini and Franco, St. Peter in the Walls, the Vanderbilts, Guggenheims and Coopers, and Nick getting lost in the desert during his Army years.

Because we arrive early, we take a drive down to the Perth Amboy waterfront and find a cozy pub restaurant. We sit at the bar with stuffed and painted swordfish watching over our shoulders, and we order food and drinks. I learn that this is one of Jose’s wife’s favorite places, and that afterwards she likes to go for a walk along the water.

I also learn that this urban scrawl of a town filled with trinkets like Jesus statues with eyes that wiggle, costume lingerie and shops that sell everything for a dollar, was once a thriving city where, in fact, the Guggenheim family originally made its fortune in the tin and copper business. (I’d always assumed they’d been in the art business…) (And to be fair to the city of Perth Amboy, it’s experiencing a revival, much to its credit.)

The bar is small, so we can’t help noticing a middle-aged woman, a retired man wearing a navy baseball cap, and a man in a Mets jacket, in the throes of a vigorous debate about the condition of America –  more specifically, about the current health care measures. Tired from a long day followed by a long drive, I think that my daughter, myself and my 2 artist friends are secretly pleased for the diversion. Possibly a classic one.

The woman is a registered Democrat but considers herself Independent. She holds the floor for a good while, batting back rebuttals from across the bar, where the retired man plays devil’s advocate.

“Have you read the bill?” he’d ask, and she’d say “No, but….  well, have you read the bill?” and he’d say “No, but …”  …So that both have their say but there isn’t a lot of credence being placed on the other’s opinion. “Are you one of those Teabaggers?” he asks. “No, but I think they have every right to speak up.” “Well, from everything I’ve read they seem like troublemakers” On it goes.

At some point – must have been that our food arrived and in our ravenous state we lost track of the conversation ~ really yummy food, by the way ~ the woman has no more to say and the conversation shifts over to the guy in the Mets jacket seated beside the retired man.

The Mets guy is Republican. If the topic were different, I imagine these two being friends. Obviously they both like baseball. But of course the views of these two men are even farther apart than the woman’s had been, making it feel like we’re watching a microcosmic episode of MSNBC vs. FOX News.

Each man clearly feels confident, and just a little bit righteous, about their opinions. In a situation like this I wouldn’t normally chime in and I do NOT want to get in the middle of what is becoming a somewhat heated political discussion. Yet they’re driving me a little crazy, and it’s all I can do to bite my tongue.

There’s a slight but growing air of volatility. The bartender walks around to diffuse a potential fight. He puts his hand on a shoulder and says, “Take it easy, guys.”

At the same time, Jose apparently senses my tongue biting, so he tosses me into the ring (… what was he thinking? … or maybe he saw an opportunity break the tension…) by announcing that I have something I want to say. Which is actually true – so out it spills. Even more surprising, to me, is that they listen … as I tell them that they are, right then and right there, acting out the divide in our country between right/left, right/wrong ~ it’s all black and white with no gray area. They are so sure of their own positions, they don’t hear the other person’s view. There’s not enough open-mindedness going on to at least consider some of the points the other made. They’re not having a conversation ~ not even a debate ~ it’s all “I’m right, you’re wrong, this is the way it is, and, he said this, and well, but he said that…”  Almost a test of wills. There is condescension. Try to listen to each other, not just plan your next stab.

My piece has been said. No fists are raised. (Later, Nick shares how impressed he was that I “got in the middle of the fight”. I did? I didn’t think it was all that bold, but of course, I couldn’t see myself.) Then they ask my daughter her opinion. She answers with fabulous diplomacy for a 13-year-old. I am proud.

Shortly after that, Jose talks to them too. Jose is both an artist and a professor. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more knowledgeable historian; one who’s interestingly knowledgeable, not just book smart. So he comes at them with this wealth of archival information and holds them in the palm of his hand. And, unlike me, (and more bravely than me), he takes sides – yet he does so in such a way that disarms both men.

It is pretty remarkable. They seem to lose their battle cry, and instead wonder aloud about who this guy is – where was it that he taught, what school? Interesting how the mind can respond.

We go on our merry way, four artistic souls out for a simple taste of life. We walk along the piers, take some pictures. Ponder more juicy historical morsels and finally end up at the art show, which is, if you recall, the whole reason for our journey.

The show is lovely, energetic, and warm. I especially like the conga musicians. They come late though, and we have to leave. We head for home… with the streaming dialogue in the back seat serving up more intellectual treats, and stories already being concocted about yet another creative journey with Jose and Nick. And once again, they admire my driving skill.

I’ll always wonder how it ended up over there at the bar by the bay.

I’m also thinking, my daughter probably learned more in those few hours than in a year of social studies class. The really good news is she also thought it was fun. As did I.

A couple days later I overheard my daughter repeat to a friend something she learned that night. Her friend asked her how she knew what she knew. She told them it’s because her Mom hangs out with really smart people. :  )

ps: there are a few more pictures from the exhibit at the patricia saxton blog.

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Week 29: "52 Weeks of Peace"

Oh, the music in the air!
An’ the joy that’s ivrywhere –
Shure, the whole blue vault of heaven is wan grand triumphal arch,
An’ the earth below is gay
Wid its tender green th’-day,
Fur the whole world is Irish on the Seventeenth o’ March!
~Thomas Augustin Daly


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Drawing Tips: Colored Pencil

Colored pencils are one of my favorite mediums. They’re also one of the most unforgiving, as a friend recently discovered.

My friend’s son, a budding artist, had apparently drawn an amazing picture, then decided to color it in with colored pencils. But he “hated what he did” and wanted to erase the color. She asked me if there were an amazing eraser out there that would solve the problem – or if he was doomed to start over.

My short answer was that there is no “amazing eraser” for colored pencil, and that yes, he was most likely doomed.

So maybe you too have decided to try illustrating with colored pencils. You’ve got your base drawing down and now you’re coloring away, shading, blending, watching the colors come to life. Time passes without notice.

Then in one dreaded moment, you realize you’ve gone too far. You reach for your eraser. You erase…. nothing happens. You try again. You curse. Maybe you scream. But you pull yourself together, because you think, ha! – there’s gotta be a solution. It’s just pencil, after all.

Not to dash your hopes, but here’s the harsh reality: Unless you’ve used your colored pencil v-e-r-y lightly (in which case you haven’t gone too far, so there’s been no cause for dread), you – just like my friend’s son – are probably, almost definitely, doomed to begin again.

There are people who use an electric eraser, or an eraser that sharpens like a pencil, but these take practice (otherwise they smear or eat the paper), are meant for small areas, and can be more frustrating than starting over. White artist erasers or gray putty erasers, which I personally love for regular pencil, don’t do the trick with colored pencils, only taking off slight upper layers of shading.

Aside from starting over, another option is to turn your mistake into something else – sometimes a mistake offers a new way to think about your picture. But once you’ve laid down a bunch of color, erasing is not a viable option.

The real lesson here of course, is about going slowly…. before it’s too late to go back!  And that making a sketch first (even a rough one) to test out the color is a real smart thing to do.

You can also lay a piece of tissue paper over the drawing and color over it (on the tissue paper), to get an idea of how the color might look – just keep in mind that the texture of the tracing paper creates a different feel, and that colored pencils will behave differently on drawing paper. But this simple step can let you know whether you want to forge ahead with color at all.

And like anything else, the more practiced you become, the more skilled and confident you’ll be, and those mistakes won’t be such a concern.

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Week 27: "52 Weeks of Peace"

Part intention, part belief… peace is a place that dwells somewhere inside us all … beneath the fray, outside the chatter, standing at the edge of chaos … stored in elements both real and imagined … and always a little bit magical.

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Week 26: "52 Weeks of Peace"

“Half-Full”

26 weeks marks the series’ midpoint – and the idea of “halfway” turned into “half-full/half-empty” … which, of course, leaves room for personal interpretation, so I’ll just leave it at that for now.

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Week 24: "52 Weeks of Peace"

A light-hearted treat for Cupid’s favorite holiday …  just couldn’t resist …

Roses are red, Violets are blue, Sugar is sweet  ~ and Peace is too.


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