Miss Shun, Miss Ed & Miss Chief

U&LC was one of the first publications to focus on the emerging “design community”, published by the International Typeface Corporation (ITC) and art directed by Herb Lubalin, —you have seen some typfaces with is name. The purpose was to market their typefaces to designersi n the emerging design and photo type business.

U&lc refers to upper & lower case . When metal type was used for printing the letters were cast in metal and stored in flat wooden cases with different spaces for different letters.— the “a”s in one area, the “b”s in one the “b” s in another area, ,etc.. larger area for the “e”s and smaller area for the “z”s, etc.

While working the type setter would select the letter from the case and put in the correct place on the composition tool. The letter cases were stored on shelves with the capital letters on top and the small letters below., The type setter knew by feel where each letter was and the capitals and small letters were respectively called upper and lower case. When wanting to use capitals and small letters, a designer would specify “u&lc.” to the type setter

Designers from all over would sent their requests .

which became part of the content.

The design sense of this one may be before the experience of designers who were not working in the field before computers. Before printed marketing materials became became ubiquitous, the work was much simpler and the designers were called “graphic artists.” As the importance of design quality grew, graphic designers brought an identity of professionalism and respect.

The term “graphic artist” increasing came to refer to the people that did basic mechanical work and some spot illustrations while designer was used to refer to creatives .

Sometimes presenting visual design concepts to a client marketing group there would be an older “veteran of the business,” so to speak, who did not like the design, or or thought he or she should have been the one to “select” the designer, maybe thought they know more about design than every one else in the room, or who knows what? A chip on on a shoulder.? While everyone else was referring to me as the “designer,” that individual woulds use the term “graphic artist” as often and in as demeaning a manner as possible. This one captures the essence of that period, you get it at the last line, note the corners, hahahaha, I can remember drawing solid lines with a ruling pen and then cleaning the corners and cutting the layer off the paper to make the equal pieces of white. Later you could buy lines on transparent tape, tape them in place and trim the corners. and even later press on broken lines with corners.

Alameda Creek

Sometimes it may seem as if my words flit from one thing to another with no sense of connection, no clear bridge from one line to another.

I have some sort of an “Attention deficit” disorder.. I can follow what I am writing and its relationship to the images as I am doing it, but for others it might seem like reading Finnegans Wake . . .

later when proofing I see other ways it could be read,

Nothing more than a walking man with his head hidden by a leafy branch. Maybe he runs into some one on the trail, gets infected by covid and dies; maybe he buys a winning lottery ticket; For this one moment, a window between past and future, he is in a harmony which may last for 1/25th of a second.and somewhere in the universe that 125th of a second image may be traveling around at the speed of light, searching for an eye to finally express itself..

What kind of memory is enabled in a photograph? Is it memory which may not last as long a photograph but will last for a life time.

EndPapers

Mr & Mrs Gary Holt, it seems to me her name was Jun, its been sometime, I cannot remember for sure, I met Gary some years before he married. Gary was a Berkeley Potter, home and workshop located at Fifth Street between Jones and Page. .

Holiday sales were weekends starting the Friday after Thanksgiving through the last weekend before Christmas, an annual Spring sale.

Chawan, I think he called this a salt soluble, has a Miro-esque feeling to it, one of his first ones of a series.

Guinomi by Gary Holt; ki-seto tokkuri by Kagami Shugai

I am not yet quite my farther”s age in this photo of him—sometimes I reflect on getting old, arthritis in the hips; fingers and hands significantly less functional; and so on, he lived with encroaching Alzheimer’s, this was the second to last time I saw him functional.
The last time, the next Christmas holidays, we drove around at night looking at the holiday lights. Later, a bottle of wine and, again, for a last time, we went one by one through his collection of 60 netsukes; where he got it, what moved him to buy it; and so on. He was an engineer and the netsukes were the closest, perhaps the only, Art , in which we could overlap.
He was most impressed by the hand craftsmanship; I liked the design creativity; the difference did not matter, we shared something important in life. Sometimes I think my own life got in the way of knowing him better.

“Out of the sly and crafty eyes of many of them leap cupidity,
cruelty, insanity, and crime: From their lopsided faces,
sloping brows and misshapen features may be recognized
the unmistakable criminal type.”

A comment about immigrants spoken by Attorney General Mitchell Palmer US AG 1919-1920

The Palmer Raids,  a series of raids conducted November 1919 and January 1920 by the United States Department of Justice under the administration of President Woodrow Wilson to capture and arrest suspected socialists, especially anarchists and communists, and deport them from the United States.

Having cut off his arm, Eka stood in there in the snow until it reached his knees,
Daruma asked What is you want?”
Eka said,“My mind has no peace please give it a rest.”
“Bring your mind here, I will give it a rest.”
I have searched for that mind, I cannot find it .”
“Then I have put it to rest.”
My less-understood paraphrase from Blyth translation of Mumonkan

My mother, after suffering a stroke, severe memory loss, and expressive aphasia, and at this time, she did not know who was , just the guy who shows up every day. She reaches out to touch the image of her husband of 64 years, they were high school sweet hearts, Deep inside she feels, she1 knows , there is something there, bu even though her mind will not let her remember, it does not stop her from raising her hand and touching his image.

Gate gate paragate, parasamgate, Bodhi Svaha

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