ANDYVISION - watch me try to be creative. live.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

'Stache Shoot-Out '07: Day 10

The Stoic 'Stache

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Logo design, or, the importance of designing your own identity

I can't take credit for this. My man Krichmar discovered this today.

This here is a lesson in why you design your own unique logo and don't just cop a typeface. Or, it might be a lesson in how to make your design stretch and make money from sucker clients off zero work on your part. Not sure yet.

Either way, I present the following two logos for your consideration:


Hmmmmmm . . . .

As Krichmar put it, "Somebody messed up."

'Stache Shoot-Out '07: Day 9

Monday, October 29, 2007

'Stache Shoot-Out '07: Day 8

One week down. If this is what my upper lip can do in one week, I am terrified/excited for a month from now.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

'Stache Shoot-Out '07: Day 7

(+ McCann's Irish Oatmeal)

Saturday, October 27, 2007

'Stache Shoot-Out '07: Day 6

Friday, October 26, 2007


Escher's paranoia toggles the mind's dim switches—on to black and back—searching for something burning. Flick to Friday nights that punch with the evolutionary whallop of a two-ton kangaroo and a box of matches and tell me that each of us aren't a cloister onto ourselves. A year's peace and five gone. Let's tell it like it is and just go for broke.

'Stache Shoot-Out '07: Day 5

Some real progress showing now. Sideburns gone, raffled off during the Guac-Off last night and won by the always adroit Krichmar. Check out his stuff here. He's a sicko.

But also, what's going to be sick is this 'stache. I feel embarrassed to be in public already.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

'Stache Shoot-Out '07: Day 4

Progress is slow . . . but no great mustache was ever grown without great sacrifice.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

'Stache Shoot-Out '07: Day 3 (Wolverine Edition)

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

'Stache Shoot-Out '07: Day 2

Monday, October 22, 2007

'Stache Shoot-Out '07: Day 1

Saturday, October 20, 2007



This story struck me as a bit odd. Being from Georgia and hearing that I won't be able to bathe or brush my teeth in about 3 months is of course troubling. However, what really hit me about the story was our beloved governor Sonny Perdue's response.

"He also sent a letter to President Bush . . ."?

Sent a letter? Is that really how we still have to do things in this country? Lick a stamp and send it off to the president's mailbox? Isn't there some sort of email we can reach him at? AIM maybe? texasprincess47 or something?

I just find it a tad bit archaic that we're still sending letters off to our commander-in-chief? Did he really have to go drop that off in a mailbox and then hope it got there in about three to four business days? And what else do you think arrived at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue with this letter from our governor asking for emergency aid? Maybe some junk mail from a phone company, the power bill, some coupons, the new Maxim.


Tuesday, October 16, 2007

The mighty power of a few meager words

In the English language, we have a mere twenty-six letters. When compared to the essentially infinite palette from which visual artists have to draw (infinite color, limitless shape, multiple dimensions, varying size, etc.) the battle seems to hardly favor the literary artist.

However, as a writers we must remember the immediacy and power that just a few brilliant chosen words can have. An image or design can always be beautiful and emotive, but rarely can it appeal to logic. Our strength will always lie in our ability to think and write intelligently. Ornamental, evocative writing can be very powerful, but nothing will ever have the impact as a well-crafted expression of strategic gold.

My first advertising class that I took in undergrad was taught by a man whom I greatly respect, Dr. Jay Hamilton. One anecdote that he shared with our room of 300 advertising hopefuls one afternoon awoke me to an understanding of how we can harness the power of words in the most simple way. His story went something like this:

A young creative had just joined the advertising agency responsible for the A1 Steak Sauce account. This kid worked there for several months trying rather unsuccessfully to crack the client and come up with something that would really zing. Frustration soon set in. Finally, after bashing he head against a creative brick wall, he finally struck an idea: adding three measly words to the side of the bottle. They were added, and sales shot up around 25 percent shortly thereafter. What were the three words that he had added to the bottle? "Refrigerate after opening." You see, for every one time that someone opens their pantry door, they open their refrigerator ten times. Because of the preservatives in A1 it isn't necessary to refrigerate it, but by simply telling consumers to do so, he ensured that they would see the bottle ten times as many times as they previously did.

Brilliant. It's important to remember that the most powerful ideas aren't always the biggest and flashiest one. In fact, often they're the simplest.

Monday, October 8, 2007

Learning to fail or vice versa

If there's one thing that I've learned in the last two years it's the importance of taking chances. As cliched as it sounds—and in fact is—no great thing was ever accomplished without taking some risk. What makes something risky is innately tied up in its very nature. Were it to be an easy, inconsequential matter, many would attempt it and thus diminish both its distinction and its singularity. It is when we throw our proverbial hats in the ring that we set ourselves up to experience things that few actually do.

All these benefits being said, at the same time we also throw ourselves at the mercy of the universe in all its enigmatic chaos. The theory of entropy teaches us that everything in existence moves from order into disorder over time. Maybe it's this part of the thrill of cheating fate that makes a victory all the sweeter when we've risked more.

However, what do we do when we simply fail miserably? What happens when we don't come out on top, laughing at our past trepidations or riding the euphoric high of receiving our dreams back to us on a silver plate?

Perhaps this is when we should be most grateful. When we can admit that we don't have all the answers or that we did in fact fall flat on our face there's a sense of liberation. More than getting exactly what we wanted, we've grown as human beings, enriched our souls and refused to stay safe while the rest of the world slumbered complacently in their comfortable beds.

It's true that it hurts. Mistakes can take the form of anything—a horribly embarrassing situation, a bloodied face, a lost job, a broken heart. But we should cherish these moments of defeat just as much as (if not more than) our energy-drink-rush, ha-ha-I-told-you-so victories. Is it no coincidence that the most beautiful, heart-felt songs are written in the darkest days of a broken musician's life and not when they feel that they're soaring on top of the world? No other sentiment is so deeply genuine or so impossible to escape.

None of this is to say that I find merit in self-flagellation. What I instead mean to say is that we should never second-guess a chance to, well, take a chance. When we constrain ourselves by social, emotional or logical concerns we hold ourselves back from experiencing something unique that no one else will ever understand—whether we succeed or fail.

I've seen this in so many aspects of my life (and those of my friends) recently. Sometimes it feels amazing, and at other times I've never felt so dejected in all my life. And sometimes those feelings aren't so cut-and-dry. But the real beauty lies in reaching out to the uncertain. Our art, our sanity, our love, our individuality depends on it. It's better to learn from a mistake than to regret not even giving yourself the opportunity to make it.

So apply for the dream job, try out a difficult recipe tonight, give up the life that you've always known and move far away, pick up an instrument, drive across the country for a girl, sing a song that you don't know the words to.

And be happy when it all works out. But also cherish when you fall flat on your face. I've learned to.

Monday, October 1, 2007

The Postcard Project

The other day I was staring at a blank postcard that I had sitting on my desk. That's when something occurred to me: how great it is to receive a postcard from someone.

They arrive unexpected. They're hand-written. And they let you know that someone was thinking of you. It's something so small, but it can really make your day. I should pass that feeling on, I thought. And thus, the Postcard Project was born.

The project is to make original and unique little pieces of art that are mailed with a personalized message to addresses all over the country, found at random. I hope that they'll just bring a little art into someone's life somewhere. And a smile too.

Below are some from the first batch:

I've had fun playing with a variety of materials: acrylics, ink, spray paint, pastels, electrical tape, collage, etc. As I make more, I've started to explore more of just what a postcard can be (since you can mail anything). I'm also starting to mess with ideas for interactive cards so look for some of those in the near future.

If you want to submit someone's address for a postcard, just shoot it to me, and I'll create a one-of-a-kind postcard just for them too. Cheers.