:: with a little ink ::

that was derived from a quote of the incredible typographer archimedes, who once famously said, "give me a pen and a place to sit, and I will draw the word." that's me, just humbly following in his footsteps.

sean mccabe recently put out a free 'learn lettering' newsletter (like this article, but expanded & delivered straight to your inbox) prior to the release of his 'learn lettering 2.0' class (coming july 27! so excited!!). I signed up for the newsletters a few weeks ago and it's really been incredible: in some ways I see my lettering improving, but more importantly, I'm remembering why I love doing it and I have renewed motivation to work diligently and consistently. (last schoolyear my extracurricular artistic endeavors disappeared, really, and summer hasn't gotten me a whole lot of truly free time. also I'm lazy.)

these are some things I've worked on lately:

amirite?

 what sean calls "deliberate practice".

oh, my wit. I slay me.

now go have a productive weekend!

:: desert-air sweetness-wasting ::

I think I'm a flower born to blush unseen. my thoughts:

so of course everybody loves literature's secondary couples.

jane & bingley. jack & emily rennells. sir andrew & suzanne.
   I mean, we're so happy for harriet and robert, glad that sharifah gets the physician's son -- "why shouldn't she want the best?" but it's in a rather patronizing oh-you-married-a-doctor-how-nice sort of way.
   because seriously. who ever said, "one day my @richardcarstone will come for me #happilyeverafter" or "I have a whole pinterest board dedicated to my future wedding to traddles!" -- no. everyone sees themselves as the intelligent, subtle, still-waters-run-deep main character, whose thrilling and wonderful personality only shows through when sarah's been attacked by a bow street runner and sir tristram's got to -- well, you know. we like ludovic, but we're not riding ventre à terre to get him.

the sad thing is, somebody has to be those people. somebody has to be the plain background -- the plain, lesser, unassuming and simultaneously clueless secondaries.

diana don't know she ain't got what anne got. we People In The Know slightly pity her: she's satisfied with fred. the Jealous of Gilbert know better.

in the great story of life, though, who then are the lucy westenras and arthur holmwoods? if you don't know you're a second (and seconds never do), how will I know whom I'm destined to be: mina? or jane fairfax?

AND WHAT IF SCARLETT STEALS MY FRANK???