Life:

Hello, and welcome.

Feel free to wander around on this page for a while, but know that it is probably a nice day outside. And wouldn't your time be better spent planting a garden, making a snowman, or any other seasonally appropriate activity.

YAMPA PROJECT:PLEASE HELP!

I'm looking for participants in this collective storytelling project

from the journals:Hello if you're reading this I'm asking for youre help with a collaborative storytelling project. Your memories and experiences are what make you yourself, along with what makes our communities ours. When we share memories through storytelling we not only enrich our own lives but the lives of others.

I'd like to hear your story.

The rules are siimple. Order a journal by sending me your address to my mail@jasondilworth.com than take the journal I send you and use it as a canvas for your thoughts and tell a story. Your story can be told through a variety of means such as a series of drawings, words and paragraphs, or combinations of both. Once you've told your story please return by taping it shut, applying postage(.58¢ will get it there if you live in the US), and dropping it in the mail.

I'd really appreciate your help with this and promise to do something really nice if you help.

The first journal has been returned 2008/3/7

Buy This Car

If you buy this car I'll throw in a year of documentation of me living with out it. If you just want the year of documentation contact me and we'll work something out.

Hair Cut 2008/2/25

New Website

Yes again I have changed my website. This time I'm more bound and determined then ever to keep everyone a little more informed of what is happening in my life. Being halfway through my second semester of graduate school I've never felt so tired. I recently computed the amount of time needed to complete all of my current projects. Thirty-six years.And that is if I only sleep 5 hours a night. Thing is I only have few more weeks to finish 4 of the &infinity; number of projects. The Silver lining of this could be that I have an infinite number of projects to keep me busy—forever.

THE PIXMAPRO enters the family.Weighing in at 38lbs and 30inches long. I'm very excited for the new addition, though I'm going to have to make new room for her.

Grocery Store

tonight I make my third attempt to restock my pantry!!!

If You Pay Me €26.98

I'll seek out this man [David Horvitz] have lunch with him, then send you a photo taken durning our lunch.

Seminar:PHOTOGRAPHY

Abstract I must admit I'm nostalgic. This affinity for the past led me on a trip of rediscovery to the small town of my youth, Vernal Utah. On this voyage I became privy to an interesting phenomenon. I found a single thread running through four very different collections of photographs. The thread spans time and links the images together reenforcing the notion that landscape can tie one to their history.

I like to imagine myself in the past, believing I'd fit in better in a former century rather than my own. I'm not really sure why I have the affinity for the past, perhaps it comes from my compulsive nature to surround myself with photographs and visual detritus, or it maybe something different all together. Whatever it is I must admit that yes, I'm nostalgic. This nostalgia led me to take 100 days off from work to begin a voyage of rediscovery that would take me back to the small desert town of my youth, Vernal Utah. I was hopeful that while there I would be able to preserve the essence, even if only a portion, of the place through the lens of my camera. As part of the daily regiment of task I gave myself I would spend time perusing various collections of photographs, looking for historical precedence to support my thesis that the Town's transition into a booming oil town was threatening a mystical force that lay concealed in the landscape. The verdict is still on the thesis, but in the process of looking I became privy to a rather interesting phenomenon. To explain let me introduce four collections of photographs to you: (1)Earl Douglass' twentieth century observations, (2) a Millecam family album assembled by my mother the week she was married, (3) twenty-four carousels of slide photographs take by my father, and (4) my own images taken during the summer of 2008.

1

White gloved and with methodical movements I began pouring over the hundreds of images taken by Earl Douglass in the early 1900s. There was a intriguing about his photographs something in the background that struck me as familiar. When Earl Douglass aimed his lens at Vernal is was originally motivated purely by science. He had come to the barren Canyons of Eastern Utah with the task of excavating the fossil remains of dinosaurs for the new wing of Andrew Carnegie's museum. Earl was a dedicated observer and record keeper. He wanted to learn as much as he could about the place that surrounded him, the place he would soon homestead. At first it appears the camera was a simple scientific instrument, but soon it infiltrated into more domestic matters. Images of vertebrate fossils soon became paired with images of visiting family members and picnics with his wife pearl.

2

The binder of images collected and gathered by my mother is large with a quilted cover that forms a frame around a striking bridal photo of her. The binder houses a specific narrative of her growing up with the characters of the narrative neatly labeled underneath the images. In the photographs I see the faces of the names that were prominent in the stories told around our dinner table. The photographs, though captioned, still continue to exude quite mysteries. One photograph simply titled "Jacks Visit" shows a middle aged man sitting awkwardly on a sofa. Here is was a family skeleton contained not in a closet but rather in an image. Most telling in this collection of photographs is the story of how the camera rose from inanimate object to member o the family. It is present for all the major events. Additionally the photographs speak of transitional times: times of growing up in a Motel, of coming of age in the small western town of Vernal.

3

When someone would come to visit my father he would pull out an old projector and a stack of carousels. The carousels housed his memories in the form of slide film. This usually happened around 11pm maybe earlier but always after dinner when the images could be projected onto the wall of the kitchen. There is something different about a projected image, it exist as light but very different from an image on a computer monitor or television screen. There was never an obligatory feeling among the viewers of the slideshow. These were never really vacation photos because we didn't take vacations. There were no landmarks or mandatory photos of National Park entrance signs. Instead the photos were simply of average events. For the most part the images were always contained with in two or three bookend images of three Lombardy Poplars with Split Mountain in the background. No matter what the subject matter of the individual slides they were always held up between images of these trees. The inclusion of the trees wasn't intentional. Perhaps a roll needed to be finished off and the view of the trees just made logical sense to photograph. The images mimic the genre of landscape photography. The photographs are usually taken during sunrise or sunset. The images alone are beautiful and peaceful. But together in the images there is something more. The trees are still there, one has lost 3/4 of its top to a summer thunderstorm, the view isn't the same though. Originally open fields were the only thing between the trees and my father's front porch now stucco houses with multiple gables block the view. Even if my father could photograph those trees it has become harder and harder for my father to find places that will process his slide film.

4

I've always treated the camera as a way to create a parallel universe. I learned at a young age that when aimed towards the vast expanse of the western dessert I could create a world free from subject matter almost completely removed from having any sort of context. The images could speak softly about anything and specifically the place. This view was highly subjective, these images were mine. Later I learned the images I was taking were communicating something quite different. For some the images were lonely, to others they were mistakes, and still to others they captured sadness.

The images can serve as a calendar which of 91 days. The images include everything from portraits of my nieces and nephews to images of a vacant rodeo arena. I've never liked taking photographs of people, it always felt intrusive and rude. But I had given myself the task of becoming an objective reporter every minute was supposed accounted for (at least according to myself imposed rules) I learned rather quickly that I wasn't capturing the world I had sat out to preserve. There were moments or glimpses of the world, but this world existed only in the background. It would come across to me as the rise of the hill in the background image of the newly built house. That same hill was present in the photograph of a July 24th 1909 celebration, It is there in an image of mother as child, and it is there behind the three trees photographed by my father.

Together this sampling of photographs represents only a slice of the many images that have been taken in and of the place that is Vernal. Once a quite desert city Vernal is now experiencing a spike of human activity, The area has seen the coming and going of the railroad, the introduction of the automobile and its decline, two world wars, a cultural revolution, multiple energy crises, the bush administration. And throughout this frenzy of activity, there in the background, slowly eroding away is the profile of Split Mountain reminding us of the pace of geological time. The thread spans time and links the images together. A thread that reminds nostalgia is not dead.

Seminar:MEGGS

The focus of this semesters seminar is on the life and writings of Phillip B. Meggs, Graphic designer, educator, historian and author.

The seminar's structure is simple

Test Your Typographic IQ Anybody score higher than 90? See Prang Question, and think about Tschichold, and Baskerville.

Louis Prang: The Man Who Brought Out the Artist in Children Too sissy, too bohemian. As graphic design separates itself from the field of visual arts (either by direct departure or by walking new avenues) what emphasis should be placed on creating avant-garde?

A Pantheon of Design Eccentricity I'd hate to beat a dead horse [hahah] but what habits are we acquiring through repetition? Last semester there was common talk of "getting out of our comfort zones" are we still trying to do that? Is there value in that?

Farewell to the Opulent Eighties The observations and criticisms that Phil brings to light, makes me wonder if I could give a similar "state of design" talk about today? the answer is no, I could not.

Here is a rough of my article

Found: Letters / Telephone Calls / and Text Messages to My Muse

by Orvis Dilworth

Some graphic designers will tell you they have never had trouble coming up with a solution to a problem, others will speak openly about having a certain type of designers block. I fall somewhere in between most times, but for a brief period of time one particular problem plagued me. I couldn’t see any immediate solution and as the deadline neared I found myself in frustration desperately searching for my muse.  

Dear reader, try not to read these for anything other than they are: a collection of letters/ telephone calls/ and text messages to my muse. 

1/16/2008

I thought I'd find you there. I thought I'd find you there. I waited for you not long, still I thought I'd find you there. You weren't on the bench in the park So I thought I'd go to the museum to see if you where there. On the way there it started to rain so I stepped inside the cafe. I thought you might come in too so I ordered a cup of tea and sat next to the window watching the rain gather in puddles. I thought I'd find you there.

1/25/2008

I thought I'd find you there in the refrigerator. Going into the kitchen for the fourth time this evening I was sure you'd be there maybe behind the milk. Did I just miss you?

2/15/2008

When I arrived at the beach I was certain you had just been there. I walked down the boardwalk maybe I'd be able to catch up with you. The tide, now high, brought the surf right against the dunes. You must have been here earlier, the rising water now covered your footprints. I thought I'd find you there. With the wind against my back I found it easier and more enjoyable to keep walking. I was certain you'd be doing the same. If this was true I'd never catch up with you. Maybe I should have ran to catch you. As the sun began to drop over the bay I stopped walking, I think you kept going. Did you even know I was there at the beach that day? Who goes to the beach in February? I thought I'd find you there.

3/4/2008

I made us a lunch. Thinking you'd like to enjoy a day outside I packed it in a brown bag, the kind we had when we were kids. I didn't write your name on it though. What are you going by these days? I thought I'd find you at the park. It was a perfect spring day with the sun just warm enough that I still needed a jacket. There was a slight breeze blowing and the subtle smell of the budding trees wafted through the air, I thought you'd be there. I thought we'd be able to enjoy lunch together. I ate both our sandwiches, maybe you don't even like egg salad anymore? Maybe you where still at work? I thought I'd find you there.

3/10/2008

I walked by the cafe that we used to eat at when we were together. I didn't look in to see if you where there. I thought you might be across town so I caught the train. When I got off I was reminded of all the places we talked about visiting, but hadn't — I was hungry too. Walking around this new district none of the cafe's looked inviting. I only had 7 dollars, I'd need 2 to get back on the train. It was well after lunch and I still hadn't eaten breakfast. Were you in the cafe? I should have looked in. I didn't think you'd be in the corner store, but I needed something to eat, so I went in and bought a package of cookies and bottle of Juice. It reminded me of giving blood. I haven't done that in a long time. Are you still afraid of needles? The cashier placed my items in a black plastic bag — I told him I didn't need a bag. There was a brief moment of confusion — I wish you could have been there to see it. leaving the store I looked down the street to see if you where there. I really wanted to share that experience with you, I think you would have laughed. I caught the train and went home. I thought I'd find you there.

3/12/2008

I walked down the alley to see if you'd be there. The house on the corner, the one we used to dream about owning, someone has moved in. They left a bookcase and a huge pile of trash in the alley, I wish you could have seen it. Maybe you already did? If the bookcase is there when I get home I'll save it for you.

3/15/2008

I thought I'd find you there in the library. Remember the first time I met you there — you were sitting high on the shelf. Initially I felt sorry for you, I felt like I was doing you a favor. Anyway I went back today and walked the long aisles I thought I'd find you there high on the shelves.

3/18/2008

I wish you could have been there today, remember how you used laugh at the awkward moments, usually involving me. I know you would have found humor in what I did today. I mistakingly printed out my boarding pass at 250% I decided I'd use it anyway, like one of those giant checks that corporations give charities. It brings a smile to my face even as I think about it now. I know you would have enjoyed it. I look forward to meeting up with you this weekend.

3/20/2008

It rained last night, of course you know this. I had just got back into town and rather than calling I decided to walked home, I thought I'd find you out there. The streets were quite, I only saw one car, it was a cab, Maybe you were in it? It was just starting to rain and and sky was heavy and felt close. Did I just miss you? I didn't mind the rain it wasn't too cold so I kept walking even though I was further from home than usual. After getting home the rain sounded like it picked up. I hoped you weren't still out in it? I thought I'd find you there. 

3/22/2008

I thought you'd be online today so I logged in. After reading through the mass of emails that had accumulated while I was gone I noticed how quickly the time had passed. Even though I had wasted a lot of time I still waited to see if you where there. Are you on vacation, I didn't even see you sign in? I hope you get this email?  Below is a link to something interesting I came across while I waited for you. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/27/us/27chute.html? I thought I'd find you there?

3/25/2008

I went to my studio today, like I do everyday. I thought you might be there. I brought you that book that I was telling you about. I think you'll really enjoy it. I've painted the walls of my studio again, they are white now. I thought I'd find you there.

3/30/2008

I ate at that thai place we've been hearing all about. I got a table for two thinking I'd find you there. Eventually I ordered, I think the waitress felt sorry for me, assuming I had been stood up. I ordered for you, your favorite dish the red curry one. If you are home the left-overs are in the fridge. We'll have to go back, this place was really good and lived up to our friends recommendations. I really thought you'd be there. 

3/31/2008

I guess you stopped by when I was at the market. I'm sorry I missed you. There is more in the fridge now. Oh, and I got some lettuce and stuff for that salad I've been promising to make. I'm really excited to try that new recipe for dressing. Are you still vegan?

4/18/2008

Josh called yesterday. He says he is doing really well, enjoys his new job and likes living closer to megan. I remember the days we used to dream about moving to portland. Where are you living now? Anyway I just thought I’d call to see how things are going. We should meet up soon I have so many things I’d like to talk to you about.

4/20/2008

I went to the park last night because I thought I’d find you there. The stars were brighter than normal or at least they appeared to be. I stayed there for a few hours. It was quiet. I thought you’d come by. Remember when we used to stay awake all night talking about everything and nothing? Remember the summer we told ourselves we couldn’t go to sleep till we had seen a falling star. I didn’t stay in the park, I wasn’t sure it was legal to sleep in the park. Things have changed haven’t they. 

I walked home passing the bar, I think we’ve been to that one before, the smell of smoke lingered down the street. Have you quit smoking? I think you should. I thought about going in, but where would I have put the blanket I was carrying? I thought I might find you there.

4/23/2008

I just checked the P.O. Box we used to share. How long has it been 3,4 months? We only had a few letters. One from the bank, one from Abigail, and something that looks like a credit card offer for you. Would you like me to forward it? I assume you don't. I really hoped that you would have at least written something.

4/25/2008

You could have woken me up, I wouldn’t have minded. I’m assuming you where there last night. Your side of the bed looked slept in, and the shape of the tube of toothpaste was all the evidence I needed to tell me that you had been there. I walked into kitchen certain I’d find you there. I really thought I’d find you there. 

Workshop: ELECTION SPACE:

this is where we are now

And at any moment, caused by any number of actions, we will loose our footing and moved into two possible directions. Either we will ascent or descent. There is of course a third direction that of remaining in a fixed state, but I've chosen not to take this into consideration at this time. A semantic history of the two words comes with attachment and baggage and connotations that I feel must be broken down to grasp a little of what I'm feeling.

Ascend—Christ ascended to his throne. Buddha ascended a mountain . It is typically associated with breaking through some new refined plane escaping the banal. The the heaves are preserved for deity.

Descend—In mormon theology descent/dissent are used synonymously. Lucifer the son of the morning was cast down from heaven descending to hell where he resides or lives in an effort to bring others with him. Human stumbling is also often associated with descent.

In the cremaster series by Matthew Barney narratives are built around the specific moment of action when the sexual organs descend or ascend.

The two do appear, at first, to be opposites making it is easy to correlate to one being positive, and the other being negative. But this broad generalization really limits the type and direction of thought

Mountains as places of refuge It is the ascent of the peaks that mountaineers give bring new understanding of the environment and humanity not only by their ascension into the heights of the mountains, but instead a recount of their journey of ascent and then descent. Only with both are we able to pass on the idea

Likewise the archeologist lives in a world of descent. constantly digging deeper into the past worlds hidden by the present accumulation of detritus, to the surface.

At any moment we stand ready to descend or ascend.

In september of 2008 it appeared the worlds economy was quickly heading towards bottoming out. Countries, people, robots reacted frantically trying every tactic to reverse the trend. (descent is bad?) The threat and fear associated with this declining market was interlay self imposed. and like Agurrie—the financial leaders took control of the cannons confessing that the danger was real. In the end we are left to question the motives of our financial bail out.

In and out.

There a progression — build and build forever ascending towards a tower. But the magic moment or angle of repose creating a maximum height from where rapid descent and growth at the base.

Transcend

Workshop: MEMORY:

creation of community

Self Defining Memory: Found Library / Visual Dialogues Tuesdays and Thursdays are filled with a workshop focusing on a closer look into Memory. The first assignment we began with involves the creation of a visual dialogue between our other classmates. We were asked to record a self defining memory [sealed inside an envelope]then begin a visual dialogue based on the memory. To help begin the dialogue we were encouraged to find a book, which would then serve as the canvas/media to exchange.

The Exchange: Curious as to how someone outside of our classroom would respond to the project I created two books and began to tell the memory. book a. JD > SH > JD book b. JD > HJP > JD > HJP > FF > JD

How to Make a Journal

For the second part of the workshop we have been asked to begin thinking about telling a Memory Journey.

Unable to clarify The process of going from assignment to completed project has always kind of baffled me. Some students jump directly into the project realizing clearly what the final project will be. Others Like me bask in the sun of the journey for a destination feels hasty unwarranted.

I began with a Question, a question about a news article I swore I had read. relaying a new scientific discover which proved the existence of geological memory/complex thought for what where once thought to be inanimate objects. After weeks of rereading all the scientific journals and blog articles for the last 12 months I admitted the fact that maybe this was just a dream I had. Still not giving up I began to write the article. "Rocks indeed do have memories as rich as any of the human experiences and their memories are infinitely more. Whether one is a of the persuasion that god created man kind from the dust of the earth, or in the camp of atheist. One must acknowledge no new memory will ever happen. The unifying theory of plate tectonics which brought new understanding to the field of geology. MEMORIES DON'T EXISIT at least not on their own, instead memories are the impressions/evidence of others—communities.

Image gathering. It was a warm february day, perhaps too warm, still I enjoyed the time outside. In my bag I had packed a lunch and made my way to the James River. the curious thing about this river is that it almost remains hidden from view. not only by the trees which obstruct it but also because of the train tracks which run parallel to its banks, a monument/scar telling of a time when industry was valued over the environment (I time in which we still live). As I crossed the many now flowing channels and ditches I couldn't help but notice that this rive bore very little resemblance to the River which had haunted my youth and early adulthood. The river I speak of is the Yampa River in the Occupied lands of Eastern Colorado, the last great river of the colorado watershed. It has earned this status by luck, its fortunate geographically rareness. The very government which now protects the river were the very ones that allowed the channels and canyons to be placed in danger. But I digress. As I sat on the banks watching the sheer amount of organic matter flowing down James I realized. that the cycle of Spring Run Off and sediment load where much different. because of Geography.

The Yampa flows wild and free with in the confines of Dinosaur National Monument for 46 miles from deerlodge park to echopark. along the way the canyons walls begin to climb creating places where the rim stands 2,000 feet over the ribbon of life around the river.

Spring Run Off yearly cycle of abundance and drought. If one was to look at topographic map of the eastern colorado they would immediately notice; an of erratic contour lines, a notable absence of vegetation, and plenty of short dash dot dash blue lines running rampant on the page. These lines speak of intermittent steams streams which flow quite possibly once a year for only a few weeks. Winter on the Western Slope of Colorado can be an unforgiving one. as the amount of daylight declines the temperatures quickly drop making the precipitation which falls come in the form of snow. Snow quickly blankets every square inch of the forest and hillsides. From september – April the blanket of snow holds onto the precious moisture, locked in the frozen air, but as the earth begins to tilt closer to the sun that moisture is released, driven by gravity the molecules build and combine seeking the lowest point. In the valleys of the dessert you notice first the absence of the stubborn snow which used to hang onto the northern sides and shadows of the hillsides. Then the rivers turn colors. From clear greens to shades of brown. At first one could hardly notice. Then it happens the river now a deep brown covers everything the landscape is completely transformed the cottonwood saplings mixed in with the willows are gone. sandbars which divided the river into scores of channels are gone instead is a silent mass, you can tell it is moving, the river boils every now and then. and trees once firmly rooted in the ground bob along mid stream. The rivers power is ominous. Foam builds in the eddies (places where the river flows in reverse, caused by an interruption of flow). The river is only silent in the valley, where it carves its way through the soft debris of the holocene. in the canyons where it cuts its violent past is most evident, it is another story.

I remember walking across top of hardscrabble mountain 500 meters above the river hearing only a hum looking down on the river I could see where the side canyon entered the main canyon and created a narrowing. I had been told that in the 1980's a flash flood (food caused by the summer thunderstorms)had created the rapid. Boulders the size of houses, from my view little specks, stood in the channel. The brown ribbon which was the river broke with white lines tearing through the smooth surface. sitting quietly eating my lunch I could hear the the roar of the rapids. Later that evening I descended to the banks of the river the roar of the rapids were deafening, had I been forced to navigate them they might have issued more fear. instead I pitched my tent and fell asleep to the roar.

Workshop:BLOGS

I'm organizing the artefacts from my trip, yes I am–to steal the sentence from Walter Benjamin's Unpacking my library. Sand and bits of drift wood replace the worn and dusty pages in my library. a collection of itmes inanimate objects relatively small appears to be a collection of collections. Each one serving as a mnemonic device returning me to a world I once inhabitied. Some may describe this as being overly nostalgic and pherhaps their judgment is warrented for I enjoy nostalgia and in it I'm reminded of how I felt, and how I'll feel again. Somewhere in my collection is a small pink rock taken from island park 4 years ago. I wish I had the rock now, to hold it to observe its smooth features. What strikes me most about this rock is that it has moved beyond a memory and it has risen to the level of being something worth remembering—the metamemory. This is a place reserved for only the most treasured objects. Items that shield and bury meaning. Making them extra personal even mysterious. Secrets ready for the world to see, but only coded so as not to be taken lightly.

Workshop:TIME

suppose that time is a quality Like the luminescence of the light above the trees just when the rising moon has touched the treeline.

Thesis:

Preserving Past Ideas of Place in an Ever Expanding Universe.

As someone who has been robbed of a past I've been earnestly seeking to preserve a hint of the world I once inhabited. Yes, my past is steadily eroding into the arroyos and aluminum highway culverts of the United States National Interstate Highway system. It isn't just my past it seems everyone's past is sliding away. All efforts to stop this through mementos, souvenirs, and photographs appear to be futile. The accumulation of objects has not provided a remedy. Instead the weight of the objects appear to compound the problem. It is my fear that soon there will be no past, only future.

Still I'm taking on the task. Hoping to save a portion of the past, even if only briefly. During the summer of 2008 I travelled 3,000 miles from my current residence to the town where I grew up — Vernal, Utah. Vernal once a small isolated community on the northernmost point of the Colorado Plateau is now booming with oil prospectors and land speculators eager to turn a profit. Vernal with its wealth of natural resources has experienced "booming" before, but this time I felt it was a personal attack on my history. An attack on my memories which were tied deeply to the wild landscapes that surround the city. Throughout the summer I filled boxes and folders with thousands of photographs, audio files, and other various artefacts all with the hope of being able to articulately and elegantly describe the place I remember. By setting out on the trip I learned a great many things both about myself and the community. It wasn't until I took the time to return to the town that I began to understand just a little better the complexity of the issues surrounding communities, memories, and my position as someone trying to preserve a decaying organism.

It is a rare opportunity that one has to be able to relocate physically and devote 100% of their time towards research. It has its value. By default this type of immersion brings a new perspective not available to outsiders. While immersed in the community I began to realize that the sediment from my eroding memories wasn't simply fading away into nothing, instead it was accumulating as memories of others. The way I see it, this accumulation could either contribute positively or negatively to the development of place. Correspondingly, the very notion of place is defined in the relationships between people, history, and landscape. The easiest way to strengthen these relationships is simply to tell stories about each.

So yes, now I'm trying to preserve the past. Slowing the process of erosion by telling the stories of Vernal and encouraging others to do the same.

Design Research:

PLACE PDF

CREATIVE PROJECT!

I. Statement of problem Domain

I distinctly remember hearing a graphic designer speak proudly about how everything around him was designed. In the setting of our conversation his statement was true, but I couldn't help but recall my experiences of Vernal, Utah a place on fringes of mans domain where this statement couldn't be farther from the truth. Here is a place showing not the evidence of design, but the very absence of it. For my creative project I wish to explore the history of this place, and more specifically my perceptions of this town, and how I came have them.

II. Key Concerns / Issues

Vernal Utah can be seen as a microcosm of society as a whole, due to its position on the edges of civilization. Just as the tides of the oceans are strongest at the poles. Climate Change and Energy Policies are evidenced more strongly in this isolated location. Once the towns economy was almost entirely supported by tourism, slowly this changed, and finally the rapid growth of oil exploration in the area now threatens to destroy the beauty of desert for the benefit of extending our already doomed dependance on natural gas

III. Inspirations / Related Work

Leaving Vernal, Utah I chose to pursue a career in graphic design, to borrow from the old adage that you can take the person out of the desert but you can't take the desert out of the person, found myself naturally attracted to visuals that reminded me of the years of solitude and my experiences surrounding the desert. When I came across WW typographic representations of the desert I found particular solace, in these images. Here I found a possible merger of my experiences with the place of my childhood and my future in graphic design. I than began to notice that there was something missing. WW had successfully represented the landscape of the desert, but only from the eyes of an outsider an observer.

Storycorps taking on the largest oral history project this corps focuses on finding and telling very personal histories then archiving them.

having always been attracted to personal histories and storytelling, When I came across the work of WL and JS I immediately embraced their work finding value in the way that they where merging visual elements into the storytelling process. However, The stories they tell aren't mine, queens is not Vernal, Utah. and the journalistic approach to telling stories they use perhaps isn't introspective enough to describe my particular experience with Vernal, Utah.

The Yampa River Project

The Dream Mine Visual Narrative

IV. Bibliography

a. Books

b. Articles

c. Web sites

d. Video / Films

V. Questions Looking Forward

a. What do you need to decide?

What extent of this project will be researching methods of delivery id study into

b. What do you need to learn?

Presentation Outline: Required Components (First Draft)

I. Statement of Problem Domain(1-2 Sentences): The role and creation of personal histories has been a defining element among visual communicators for years. It is from our experiences that we add pages to our visual libraries/ our interpretations of the surrounds world helps clarify/teach/beautify human history.

II. Key Concerns / Issues A. Problems facing society / profession / clients / audiences or users: To list the problems facing Human Kind would require someone with more history on the subject. I feel it sufficient to reference, Jeffery Sach's lectures for the 2007 Reith lecture series — which discussed the challenges awaiting Humanity as we wrap up the Holocene and Begin to admit that we currently live in the Anthropocene B. Opportunities for improvement or contribution:Verbal histories have been gaining value since the populous gained in literacy, but this history is based in paradigmatic learning. Where as I feel highly unjustified in telling others how to manipulate form I feel no restraint in sharing my experiences with others. Through either the written or pictorial media. III. Inspirations / Related Work A. Examples of pertinent projects / studies / writings B. Examples of pertinent personal work (if relevant) This is what I do. IV. Bibliography A. Books. B. Articles C. Websites www.canary-project.org D. Videos / Films An Inconvenient Truth Future of Food King Corn V. Questions Looking Forward A. What do you need to decide: Revisiting the first elements of this outline are the first step. further clarification about why Personal Histories, and more research into the Visual Narrative. I also need to decide to what extent will I address the memories/histories. Mine? Collective? Others? B. What do you need to learn? Everything

Résumé + Portfolio

Design Philosophy I Believe very strongly that the traditional role of the graphic designer is being redefined. I'm also optimistic that these changes will be positive for the profession and the planet. To ensure that the changes are positive I feel it is important to be an active participant and create a profession that creates leaders. For me this has meant that I gather (and continue to gather) a knowledge and understanding of design history, and theory. Visual communications has the power to affect cultures and societies, making education imperative. The role of a designer/educator is to share their knowledge and expertise with others, with the intention that both will bring joy. Design is so many things, and that is what makes it great.

Criticism:

DOWNLOAD MY PORTFOLIO HERE!

This portfolio was inspired by a designer I spoke with who only looks for mistakes and typos. I embrace flaws.

What are you looking for when reviewing a portfolio

This week after hearing a Creative Director for a local design agency I couldn't but wonder what "Professionals" are looking for when hiring new designers. Constantly pounded into the heads of student designers is a fear for ever making a mistake, a misplaced hair will end their career. While I can't stress how important proofing is, I just want to present the question to those creative professionals, What are missing out on by looking only for errors. Students in creative fields are taught to think critically explore new modes and methods for communications, and as part of this process they are taught that faliure isn't always a bad thing. So the next time you get a portfolio in the mail with an attached resume relax open it up and take a moment to flip through it, knowing that the sender really ment to call it a résumé.

It is looking pretty bad

—friend's comment about my hair

Thinking with hype?

Why do graphic designers need comfirmation about the legitimacy of our profession? Could it be that we have lost our roots?