Anna Della Subin asks the tough questions:
“[I]f procrastination is so clearly a society-wide, public condition, why is it always framed as an individual, personal deficiency? Why do we assume our own temperaments and habits are at fault—and feel bad about them—rather than question our culture’s canonization of productivity?”
Sing it, sister.
Though we originally ran this post back in July, it seemed appropriate, given the content of our latest news release, to share it again.
We recently completed a project for Providence Health Care Foundation. It’s an installation that both celebrates Holy Family Hospital’s 50-year anniversary and commemorates the Dominican Sisters who founded it in 1964. The sisters, who arrived in the area in 1925, also faithfully served communities like Tonasket, Omak, Kettle Falls, Colville, and my home town of Chewelah.
On Wednesday, July 23, the appropriately humble Dominican Heritage Art Wall was officially unveiled to an enthusiastic crowd—including my mom, who has enjoyed a lifelong friendship with many of the sisters. What a treat to work on a project honoring all 42 of them, whose names appear in the display as quietly as they served our region.
“The trouble with writing,” concludes Michelle Huneven, “is writing.” Truer words were never spoken.
But wait—there’s more: “Writing is difficult in the beginning, difficult in the middle and difficult at the end.” And it’s “a weird, lonely occupation with only intermittent and unpredictable satisfactions and rewards.” And “no matter how many times you do it, you start out every time with the sick sense that you don’t know what you’re doing.”
My favorite line, though? “Some writers think their work can’t be improved, or shouldn’t be edited at all. More of us pingpong between grandiosity and despair.”
It’s like she knows me.
Happy National Punctuation Day, everyone.
What…you didn’t get me anything? Not to worry: you can make up for it by leaving your nominations for Punctuation Mark of the Year in the comments field below. If you feel like sending a gift anyway, keep in mind that I’m running low on bourbon—thanks in part to reading that, “in most cases, rules about apostrophe usage only serve to irritate those people who know the rules and confuse those who do not.” Egad.
From Mad no. 154 (October 1972): “The Mad Guide to Political Types.”
The terrifying tale of The Hound of Mons has everything: A German scientist, mutilated victims, and the brain of a madman implanted in a bloodthirsty hellhound.
CK sends along this link, the contents of which I find to be equal parts creative, hilarious, and horrifying. Before you click, keep in mind that you can’t un-see it.
If—and that’s a mighty big “if”—the lab results stand up to peer review, this is extraordinary.
Gasp! It’s the Black Beast of Harborough! (Though, to be fair, when it’s described as a “black animal shaped like a medium-sized dog,” there’s a pretty good chance it’s, you know…a dog. But still.)
A recent visit to the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation in Seattle proved to be a treat. A series of interactive exhibits, housed within their visitor center, features the good work of the foundation. It’s an amazing display of their mission and purpose—and a straightforward look at the fundamental problems facing people around the globe. Designed by Seattle-based Olson Kundig Architects and in collaboration with Studio Matthews, the foundation’s innovative displays, use of materials, and poignant storytelling is well worth the visit. And to top it all off, it’s free.
There’s a quiz over at pbs.org that purports to determine what font you are. It’s a multiple-choice thing with really dumb answers to choose from. (In fact, I can’t think of a single instance in which my actual response was an option.) Nevertheless, according to PBS, I’m Helvetica.
Curious.
I’d better get a second opinion, I thought. So I checked with Buzzfeed, who promptly declared that I’m Times New Roman.
Worried that these results pointed to a latent bipolar disorder, I headed over to Pentagram. Their authority is unimpeachable; their judgment, therefore, could be nothing other than final.
The result? I am, it turns out…Baskerville Italic: “well-read, a little short-sighted, and tend to lean quietly but firmly towards the Right.” I can live with that.
It may be the most famous graphics standards manual ever created (if not one of the largest): Unimark International’s 364-page manual for The New York City Transit Authority’s signage and wayfinding system. It was put together by Unimark’s Bob Noorda and Massimo Vignelli in 1970.
So…how famous? A couple of years ago, an original copy was discovered in the basement of the New York office of Pentagram. Last week, a Kickstarter campaign was launched to raise $108,000 to faithfully reproduce the manual. By 10am PST, over $65,000 had been pledged. By noon, that figure was up to $126,000. And by 2:30pm, it had topped $160,000. As of this morning, total funds pledged had surpassed $600,000. You get the idea.
Side note: It’s widely known that Helvetica is the font currently used throughout the NYC subway system. But in 1970, Noorda and Vignelli spec’d Standard Medium. Helvetica didn’t become the official font until 1989.
On September 16, 1805—209 years ago today—the Lewis and Clark expedition was crossing the Bitterroot Range of the Rocky Mountains, somewhere between present-day Missoula and Weippe, Idaho, on their way toward the Pacific. Clark wrote in his journal that evening:
“A thickly timbered country of eight different kinds of pine, which are so covered with snow, that in passing through them we are continually covered with snow. I have been wet and as cold in every part as I ever was in my life. indeed I was at one time fearful my feet would freeze in the thin moccasins which I wore. After a short delay in the middle of the day, I took one man and proceeded on as fast as I could about six miles to a small branch passing on to the right, halted and built fires for the party against their arrival which was at dusk, very cold and much fatigued. We encamped at this branch in a thickly timbered bottom which was scarcely large enough for us to lie level, men all wet, cold and hungry. Killed a second colt which we all supped heartily on and thought it fine meet.”
Bouten Construction Company turns 70 this year, and last week they invited a couple hundred of their closest friends to the Spokane Convention Center’s Roof Deck Patio to help them celebrate the occasion. Naturally, we were there—eating, drinking, and taking unauthorized photographs. Congratulations to everyone at Bouten for reaching this historic milestone. And thanks for including bacon-wrapped scallops on the menu.
Though I’ve more than once used this space to extol the virtues of Stephen King’s On Writing (here and here), I thought I’d draw your attention to an interview he gave to The Atlantic‘s Jessica Lahey.
“I asked King,” writes Lahey in her introduction, “to expound on the parts of On Writing I love most: the nuts and bolts of teaching, the geekiest details of grammar, and his ideas about how to encourage a love of language in all of our students.”
His responses are—as you’d expect—illuminating.
The headline says it all: “Underwear-stealing ghosts made my life hell.” The best line of the story, though? “I thought I was going crazy.”
Though the possibility of a paper clip making software that turns Americans into even more paper clips is “not technologically possible in the next 20 years” (estimates range from 20 years to, well…never), “the potential negative consequences are too severe not to study the possibility.” Welcome to the Centre for the Study of Existential Risk.
Apparently, it needed to be said: “applying electrodes to the brain…could have some unintended results.”
Finally, if your child “screams at night, cries, is always feverish, suddenly deteriorates in health, puts up an attitude of fear, and may not feed very well,” it may very well be possessed by vampire witchcraft spirits.
I guess football season is starting? Like…tonight? And the Seahawks are somehow involved?
I’ll admit it: I just don’t find it all that interesting. So great is the ennui, in fact, that I can’t even be bothered to explain the reasons behind my apathy.
I can, however, write a haiku:
blue and green ospreys
something about a twelfth man
I don’t understand
I didn’t say it was a good haiku.
“All work and no play,” wrote Jack Torrance (over and over and over again), “makes Jack a dull boy.” So do the fine folks at helveticka have any recommendations for spending your leisure time? Glad you asked.
CK just read The Boys in the Boat, and thinks you should, too.
If it’s cocktails you’re after, Linda suggests a Copper Camel for the ladies—or straight-up absinthe if you’re a dude.
Tony heartily endorses Guardians of the Galaxy regardless of your gender.
Shirlee says there’s a pretty tasty Hawaiian pie with prosciutto and jalapeños over at South Perry Pizza, though it’s mysteriously missing from the online menu.
As for me, I humbly submit that seasons 1 and 2 of the FX drama “The Americans” might be some of the best television ever.
I’ve long held that proofreading your own work is a fool’s errand. And no, it’s not because I particularly suck at it, but rather because every writer I’ve ever worked with has cautioned against the practice.
It’s hard to explain to non-writers how difficult it is to catch your own errors; often, in fact, our protestations come across as nothing more than a desire to escape accountability.
It appears, however, that there’s evidence to support our reluctance.