Jeff Koons is unveiling his latest project, and, from the sounds of it, well…let’s just let him describe it:

“They touch on the metaphysical: the right here right now and its connection to the past and the future.”

Hmmm. Since metaphysics includes ontology (the nature of existence), cosmology (the origin of the universe), and epistemology (the theory of knowledge), Koons must really be on to something this time.

“They’re about shine, the basics of philosophy, passion, what it means to be a human, what it means to be an animal, the idea of transcendence.”

My copy of the OED helpfully describes transcendent as “surpassing or excelling others of its kind, supreme; beyond the range or grasp of human experience, belief, etc.” Which helps explain the next line:

“Working on this, I felt a sense of my own potential, and the sharing of that with a large community.”

Hard to believe that the record holder for “price at auction for a work by a living artist” could be so humble, right?

“I hope people understand my ideas. I hope they embrace them as a continuation of my effort to erase the hierarchy attached to fine art and old masters.”

So. What’s Koons up to? Glad you asked. It’s…handbags.

posted by: Aaron Bragg  |  category: random thoughts  |  make a comment

Today I was going to write about the recent decision by the editors of the AP Stylebook—perhaps my least favorite guide, but one that wields enormous influence—to allow they/them/their as singular pronouns. I see, however, that the great Andrew Ferguson not only beat me to it, but did so in a way that should leave no question on the subject. So I’ll just point you to his takedown over at the Weekly Standard. If you care at all about language clarity, please give it a read.

posted by: Aaron Bragg  |  category: the writing life  |  comments(1)

Unwieldy? Or unwieldly?

This is a tough one—because neither the correct word nor its root are all that common these days. We generally have an inkling of the meaning when we use it, believing (correctly) that it refers to clumsiness or awkwardness. But which is the correct word?

Let’s start with the root: wield.

According to my OED, the pertinent definition here is “Direct the movement or action of, control, (a bodily member, a faculty, etc.).” Another is “use or handle with skill and effectiveness; ply (a weapon or tool, now always one held in the hand).” Both come from the Old English wealden. Then there’s this etymology entry, which mentions “moving gracefully” as a meaning dating back to the 1520s.

Now that we know what the root means, let’s apply some basic rules of English word construction. If wield means “with skill and effectiveness,” adding the suffix -ly would create an adverb:

Swinging the battle axe in a downward arc, Steven wieldly cleft Aaron’s skull.

Not very pretty, though, is it? Partly because it’s somewhat redundant. If wield already means “with skill and effectiveness,” we don’t really need an adverb form. But if we did, it would probably be wieldily, wouldn’t it? It stands to reason, then, that unwieldly isn’t an option.

Wieldy, on the other hand, starts to make more sense—especially when the prefix -un is added. As an adjective, unwieldy would therefore mean “not (un) under control (wield),” or “without effectiveness,” or “ungraceful.”

English doesn’t always make sense. But when it does, it’s a beautiful thing.

posted by: Aaron Bragg  |  category: the writing life  |  make a comment

Keeping with this week’s theme about John Richard Mraz (who celebrates his seventieth birthday tomorrow), I would be remiss if I didn’t mention a couple of important honors.

John was awarded the distinguished 2000 Advertising Professional of the Year Award by the Spokane Advertising Federation (below, left). And if that wasn’t enough, ten years later he became one of only six recipients of the prestigious Lifetime Achievement Award from the same body (below, right).

I met John around 1979 while attending Spokane Falls Community College. He came to speak to a small group of students who were part of the FAD Club (Future Art Directors). I remember he passed around his brown portfolios and shared stories about projects and clients. It seemed that most of his work was logos: black and white representations along with printed stationery samples. I was in awe; enamored with how clean, crisp, and polished his design solutions were—not to mention how nicely they were presented within those plastic sleeves. He told us that his work represented a lot of “blood, sweat, and tears.”

The meaning of those three words have never been lost on me. As true then as they are today, they represent a kind of old-school ethic. Practical. Sensible. Accountable. The kind of thing you learn growing up near a small town, on a farm, in the middle of the Palouse. The kind of thing that helps explain the success John has enjoyed, both in his personal life and throughout his career.

posted by: CK Anderson  |  category: the design life  |  make a comment

Upon receiving valedictorian honors from Colton High, John Richard Mraz—the second oldest of Norm and Virginia’s five children—enrolled in Washington State University.

He did…OK. Probably spent less time attending classes than he did working on his 1956 Chevy Bel Air. (Had to make sure he could cruise up the old Lewiston grade in record time.)

John eventually graduated in 1970 with a Bachelor of Fine Arts. My dictionary defines “fine” as “exquisite, outstanding, superlative.” Whatever. I’ve seen some of his student work, and it wasn’t that good.

John spent some time in Portland before settling in Spokane, where he started a firm called whynotgraphics. It must’ve been hip at the time to ignore word spacing—not that it mattered, since he kept changing his company’s name anyway. Clearly, he couldn’t make up his mind.

One thing he had a penchant for, though, was working in nice studios, one of which was located on Spokane’s lower South Hill in the Historic Corbin Mansion (photo above, circa 1987). One of his earliest business phone numbers was 624.4029. He retained it throughout his career, and, more than forty years later, it remains helveticka’s number.

From the very beginning of his career, John was quickly becoming known as one of the area’s premier graphic designers. Not bad for a lefty.

posted by: CK Anderson  |  category: the design life  |  make a comment

“The sounds of the office are essentially sounds of paper and machines. Here are some of them, in a rough chronological sequence, from the start of a day to its end, or at least the end of the morning.”

That’s from the liner notes to Folkways Records FX 6142—The Sounds of the Office. Released in 1964, the album includes classics like “Plastic Laminator,” “Addressograph,” and “Postage Meter and Envelope Sealer.”

Wondering what The Sounds of helveticka would be? I put together a track list of the first hour:

Aaron unlocks the doors and turns on the lights
40 minutes of loud obnoxious music
door opens
feet shuffling on concrete floor
Skooch says “Good morning, Aaron”
Aaron grunts
door opens
“clomp clomp clomp clomp”
Courtney says “Good morning!”
Aaron nods
door opens
Shirlee complains about Spokane drivers
doorbell rings
CK greets his minions
minions respond in kind
Shirlee drops an F-bomb
Shirlee drops another F-bomb
Aaron closes his office door
Courtney and Skooch trade witticisms

And…that’s about it. It’ll go on like that for the next eight or nine hours or so. I mean, sure, Skooch occasionally ends up sobbing in the corner, but not as often as you might think.

posted by: Aaron Bragg  |  category: the design life the writing life  |  comments(1)

tartle (verb; Scottish) To hesitate in recognizing a person or thing.

“Good morning, Courtney,” said Aaron cheerfully as he arrived at the office.

“I’m sorry,” Courtney replied. “And you are…?”

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Wiping a tear from his cheek, Aaron retreated to his desk, head down and spirit crushed. Am I really so forgettable? he wondered. Clearly, my life is meaningless. He drew a pistol from his desk drawer, chambered a round, and slowly brought the muzzle up to his temple.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” said Skooch, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. “I’m sure she just tartled.”

posted by: Aaron Bragg  |  category: the writing life  |  make a comment