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lavieendonna · 7 years

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Brushwork || ArtMajor!Calum AU (Chapter 17)

Summary: An Art Major AU where Dallas - third year gawky art student at VCA - makes a deal with Calum - her cute new neighbour and project partner - and they spend the entire year learning that the perfect masterpiece takes a whole lot of brushwork.

Date: 18 September 2017 Requested: not really no lmaoooo Pairing: Calum + Dallas Words: 3.3K Warnings: some tense friendships here. Mali makes another appearance. Um. Yeah, i think that’s it. A/N: This is not really up to a great standard, but I think I did well for someone with writer’s block! Please let me know what you think, I love getting all kinds of feedback! Big Love xo

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Chapter 17: ‘Yeah, You’re Right, You Should Probably Neck Yourself Now To Save Yourself The Humiliation’

I’d only moved about two feet to the right in my painting progress all fucking morning. It was 3 in the afternoon and we were on a late coffee/lunch break and Calum was trying his best to assure me that we were making good time and that we’d actually been super productive. But the paint on his neck and face and on my arms and nose said otherwise (there were a few minutes somewhere near 12 o’clock where we were tired and distracted and looking desperately for something to paint other than this damn wall and that stupid, faceless ballerina).

“Dallas, you need to just fucking chill, okay?” He said for what felt like – and I hoped it would be – the final time. He wasn’t really reassuring me anymore, in fact he looked almost frustrated as he rolled his eyes at me. I scowled at him over a milkshake that we were sharing. “We’re going to finish on time.”

“Fuck you.” I pouted. “Don’t swear at me.” Calum chuckled, eyes wild and fake-offended as he snatched the chocolate shake from my side of the table and sucking on the straw.

“Alright then, no more milkshake for you then.” He teased and I just offered a sidelong expression.

“Whatever.” I shot at him. “I didn’t ask for it to start with.”

“You literally paid for it.”

“… that’s not the point.”

“You’re a dick.”

And the conversation – if you could call it that – went on like that until we’d arrived back at the wall with a fresh shake that Calum paid for this time. It was strawberry and the pink colour looked like it belonged in a sex novel, the way Calum kept licking the residue off of his lips. I purposefully stopped looking at him after the third or fourth time because every time I watched him I would blush.

“What do you reckon?” I asked him through an almost defeated sigh. We stood about 6 feet away from the wall, side by side, and staring at our unfinished work. “How much longer do you think we need?” Calum hmmm’ed and ha’ed next to me for a moment, his face contorting to match his thoughts. To me it looked like this piece was never going to be finished. The dancer still had no face, her hair had no colour, the middle section was still predominantly only outlines – it was going to take a miracle for us to finish this on time.

“I think we can do it.” Calum said confidently. “If we both work on the background now we could be done in another couple of hours. The tutu detailing… is going to take another day or two, probably. But I can skip a couple lectures to get it done. I think.” He didn’t sound as convinced as I wanted him to be about this, but I took whatever I could get.

“Alright.” I looked at Calum and he offered me the milkshake. I was tempted to just take a sip as he held it to me, but I had this premonition of that ending in my choking on the straw and projectile vomiting all over the poor kid. I shuddered at the thought and just took the plastic cup like a normal person. “I’m going to kill myself by the end of this, but alright.” Calum rolled his eyes at me through a chuckle again.

“Such a flair for the dramatic.” He laughed. “Come on, I’ll do the bottom this time.” He started to head toward the wall and I shook my head as I followed behind.

“Uh, no.” I disagreed. “No, if I go up on the ladder I’ll die.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Calum practically wailed, his laugh musical and not at all offensive – though it probably should have been. “Is there anything in this world that won’t end in your untimely death?!” He looked at me over his shoulder and his brown eyes were swimming with tease but also bewilderment.

“No.” I deadpanned, face straight and completely serious. Calum eyes rolled one more time and I let myself smile just a little as he wandered over to his palette that he’d abandoned at the base of the wall, reapplying the paint with a little grin of his own.

I felt like I was in some sort of trance or a dream – this was all too surreal to be true. The most unbelievable fact was that Calum, by some miracle, wasn’t sick of me yet. This whole semester I had been waiting for him to realise how bat-shit crazy I was and head for the hills. But it hadn’t happened and I had the feeling that I was never going to get over that.

Around 20 minutes into the new painting session, a low whistle coming from right behind Calum and I pulled us out of our focus. Both of us spun around to see who was commenting on our unfinished piece of shit and to both of our surprise, it was my sister.

“Looking good, nerds.” She said with a relatively impressed grin, arms folded across her chest and her head tilted to the left as she continued to somewhat objectify our mural.

“How are we the nerds?” Calum said first. “Aren’t you in law school?” Belle replied with a wave of her hand and a cheeky smile that made Calum giggle and turn back to the wall.

“What’s up?” I took to asking, squinting a little bit in the afternoon light that was reflecting around the atrium.

As I gazed up at my sister – not for the first time in my life – I saw that she looked relatively dressed up. Black skinny jeans that weren’t ripped (actually, looking them, they were probably mine), tight fitting grey v-neck tee and her hair, as always, pulled back into its un-messy messy bun and large hoop earrings (that I was pretty sure she’d stolen from Polly eons ago) dangling from her ears. She’d done her makeup natural, but on point, and I could tell by the way that she’d stolen my good handbag and clung onto it for dear life, that she’d just been out.

“Where were you?” I cocked an eyebrow at my sister, curious. Part of the reason she rarely came to visit me at school was for the lack of things for her to do here. I wanted to know what she’d found to entertain her enough that she wanted to dress up for it.

“Oh,” She shrugged but offered a small, secret smile I think was only meant for herself. “I had lunch with Ashton.” I blinked back my surprise.

“Jesus.” I mumbled. “How did that go? Did you rip him a new one?” Belle rolled her eyes, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she shook her head at me.

“No.” She said pointedly. “We just… talked. Cleared the air.”

“I didn’t realise the air between you guys needed cleaning.” Calum commented – although I didn’t think he meant to on purpose because when I looked up at him on the ladder I could see a faint blush in his cheeks. But Belle shrugged anyway with a small, content sigh.

“It did, and now it is, and I think we’ll be okay now.” She said with a small nod and I smiled up at her gently.

“That’s awesome, B.” I told her.

“Yeah.” She said, and dare I say it, she was almost back to normal. “Yeah, we’re going to go out for dinner tomorrow night so it should be like old times.” She smiled pretty wide again and while my heart was bursting and I was happy that my sister was finally feeling better, I couldn’t help the hesitation and slight fear for her too.

“Oh.” I stammered a little under my breath trying to find my footing and the right words to say that wouldn’t offend anyone. “That’s, um. Yeah cool. Did you… I mean, did you tell Polly yet?” I could feel Calum looking down on me with that curious eye, wandering about my motives – and quite honestly, I was wandering about my motives too. All I knew was that Polly’s heart would break if she knew that my sister was going on a date with the boy she was borderline in love with, but also that Belle would never intentionally hurt Polly that way. I just wanted them both to be okay.

“Eh, it’s fine.” Belle waved her hand again, her demeanour stiffening a little bit but her tone jumping a couple of octaves. “She’s fine.”

“Fair enough…” I mumbled out. “Are you headed off now?” My sister nodded and she come over to kiss my cheek quickly before she turned on her heel and quickly sped off with my jeans and my handbag.

“That was weird.” Calum commented. I just nodded, staring after my sister with a small frown.

“Always is with her.” I muttered, turning back to my palette and brush.

I was starting to notice that Mali took longer to answer the phone than any normal human did. I wasn’t overly bothered by it – phone calls tended to give me extreme anxiety, so the longer I could put them off the better. But Calum’s sister was on some other wavelength where messaging or texting just wasn’t an option. I would text her to ask a really quick question and then all of a sudden, she was calling me 5 seconds later to answer and then I would hang up at 1 in the morning after talking about the role of push-up bras in the Twilight series for a couple hours. Seriously. That actually happened. It was weird.

I threw myself back onto the sofa, legs dangling off of the arm rest as I stared up at the ceiling, my heart kind of doing flip turns in my chest because Mali had just finished rattling off some of the things that Calum had said to her in the past 24 hours. That’s why she told me to call her – Calum had told her that he was super nervous about our date.

“Honestly, I feel like I should be more nervous than him.” I confessed. “I am more nervous than him.”

“You don’t know that.” She said very matter-of-factly. I could almost picture the dead-eyed look she would shoot me with if she was here.

“I do know that,” I fired back. “Because it’s true. I’m going to shit myself, I know it. I’m terrified.”

“What for?!” She yelled into the phone. “You told him yourself, there’s nothing to be scared about.”

“Actually,” I began my correction. “I told him there was nothing to be nervous about, I didn’t say anything about being scared. Secondly, I lied.”

“Thirdly, you’re an idiot.” Mali interjected and I could hear the frustration oozing from her voice the same way Calum’s did. “Seriously, don’t you ever get sick of being so… paranoid?”

“I’m not paranoid.” I pouted.

“Oh, whatever, you are so.” She chuckled. “DJ, if Calum didn’t like you already he wouldn’t have asked you out.” I sighed, eyes closed as I tried to let Mali’s pep talk work its magic.

“I know.” I said quietly. “I just… I really don’t want to fuck this up. I fuck up pretty much everything else in my life so it would be a nice break if this was the one thing I don’t ruin.”

“Don’t worry.” Mali was almost begging me now. “Just be yourself and you’ll be fine.” I scoffed, but I didn’t interrupt. “I can honestly tell you that even though Calum is just as nervous as you, he really likes you and he’s excited. He really likes spending time with you.”

I couldn’t help the little smile on my lips when Mali said that. And I didn’t blush either, so I guess that was a big step for me.

“I know.” I ended up saying carefully. “He told me.”

“Well, there you go!” Mali said cheerfully. “He’s confident when he’s with you, and I haven’t seen him like this in a long time. You’re going to be okay.”

Weirdly enough, I felt better. I never expect to when I confide in my friends about my problems – which is dumb, I know, but it’s like every time I go in to these conversations completely expecting the other person to tell me, ‘yeah, you’re right, you should probably neck yourself now to save yourself the humiliation’ it feels just that little bit better when they don’t.

I sat up with a jolt as I heard the front door being unlocked. It was Polly, obviously, and it made my heart race for a whole new reason because for some reason I felt like she was about to walk in on me doing something illegal or dirty. According to her version of the Friendship Agreement, talking to Mali about my boy problems probably was illegal and dirty. Did I have time to do anything about it, though? No. Because Polly had this amazing talent of barging into any room she ever entered.

“Hey, I brought – oh, sorry.” I watched with secret panic as Polly, in all of her beauty and grace, dumped a bunch of plastic bags from Riot! on the floor in front of the kitchen counter and a Pizza Hut box on top.

“I gotta go.” I said quickly into the phone, not waiting for Mali to say ‘goodbye’ before I hung up. I would call her back later to explain – or, at least, I would text her saying that I would call her back to explain and then not do it. I offered a tight-lipped and hopefully non-suspicious smile to Polly who just looked at me kind of awkwardly.

“Uh, hey.” I said as cheerfully as I could muster.

“Sup…” She drawled out slowly. “Who were you talking to?” For a split second, she narrowed her eyes at me as if she knew my dark secret – not that I’d been overly secretive about my ability to make a new friend that I actually liked or anything. But Polly’s dagger eyes didn’t last long anyway, so I just cleared my throat a little bit and decided that maybe this wouldn’t go disastrously wrong if I told Polly the truth.

“Oh, um.” I coughed one more time. “That was Mali.”

“That’s Calum’s sister, right?” Polly’s eyebrow rose gently and I just gave a small, slow nod.

“Yeah, um.” I gave a soft chuckle. “I wanted to, like. Talk to her. About Calum.” Polly just stared at me a little blankly for a moment or two, and it was a little frightening because I couldn’t for the life of me tell what she was thinking. Usually I could pick up on however Polly was feeling based on a single twitch of her nose but something was different this time. Her eyebrows furrowed together ever-so-slightly and the corners of her mouth turned down just a fraction, but it was like there was so much going on in her head that I couldn’t read her eyes anymore. I’d never felt this way about Polly before. It was off.

“You talk to her about Calum?” She asked, finally breaking the silence. I gulped, her quiet and hesitant reaction not exactly what I was expecting.

“Yeah.” I said again. “She and I… I dunno, it’s just…?” I frowned, because I was starting to feel like Polly was after a specific explanation but I couldn’t really figure out what that was or if I could even give that to her. Polly frowned too. I gulped again.

“I thought…” Polly gave a seemingly frustrated sigh as she cut her sentence short, walking into the kitchenette and switching on the kettle.

“What?” I asked, standing up from the couch and wandering around the other side, leaning against the back. Polly shook her head, taking another moment to exhale kind of loudly and shake her head while she chose her words.

“I just… I thought we were going to start telling each other stuff.” She finally spat out, not really looking at me and just focussing on making herself a coffee. “I thought…” She took another breath and there was a moment where I was actually scared I’d hurt her feelings.

“What?” I prompted her gently, not liking the way she kept speaking in half-sentences. The taller girl let out the breath she’d been keeping in and finally looked at me, her eyes less clouded this time – which slowed my heart rate significantly, thank God.

“I just don’t know why you keep not talking to me about your love life.” She said, and I was pretty sure I saw a tiny small twitch on her lips but something in my gut was telling me my brain was tricking me into seeing what I wanted to see. “I’ve been invested in this since day one, remember?”

I gave a tiny chuckle, scratching the back of my neck sheepishly but shrugging at the same time.

“I know, it’s just –!” I couldn’t stop the chuckling, and that was probably bad because this felt like a relatively serious conversation. “Mali has different intel than you! She’s his sister. And he tells her everything, so I just… I wanted to know stuff Calum wouldn’t have told you.”

Polly rolled her eyes but managed to force out a small laugh.

“You underestimate my relationship with Calum, you know?” She said and I smiled, rolling my eyes too as I crossed my arms over my chest. “How’s B?” She changed the subject and I blinked again, because I didn’t realise she knew that Belle had been here.

“Oh, yeah, she’s… Well, she’s B. She was a bit upset, but she was pretty good when she left this afternoon.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Dad’s anniversary is coming up and she just needed someone to talk to.”

“Fair enough.”

“She made peace with Ashton, too, which is good.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they’re going to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Polly was being weirdly quiet and her sentences were tapering off again. It was weird, and the sudden tension in the room and… animosity rolling off of her shoulders towards me; well, needless to say, it was freaking me out a little bit.

“Pol?” I paused to let her decide if she was going to answer me.

“Mm?” She hummed, and I could feel the wall she was putting up as she abandoned the coffee she was making and started gathering her things from her handbag.

“Does my sister going out with Ashton bother you?” I asked carefully, watching as Polly froze, eyes glazing over. She looked like she was shutting down, and it scared me because she’d never done that before and I had no idea why she was doing it now.

“No.” She smiled at me, but it didn’t reach her eyes – in fact it was icy, the kind of smile that held sarcasm and annoyance behind it. “No, it’s um. It’s cool, I’m happy for them.”

“Are you sure?” I prodded, grimacing because this whole conversation felt the way as the one we had years ago before she punched me and broke my nose. “You just seem so… off?” Polly just shook her head.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” She said quickly, like she was saying it just to shut me up and moved on. It stung. And I was annoyed and confused because she was icing me out, and while it had happened once or twice it was never like this and never lasted this long. “I’m gonna go see Ash. Don’t wait up.”

And with that, she left, hot pizza still on the counter and her shopping bags still all over the floor. I was left standing there feeling like an idiot.

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jaygraphicarts3 · 5 years

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'Lost and Found’ Part 3—Type Beast

For the last ‘Lost and Found’ workshop, we used block relief printing to combine parts 1 and 2 together. I have looked at how to make a custom typeface out of strange materials and how to use screen printing to combine unrelated images, so for this workshop, I looked at combining type and print together.

We were given a set of examples of 2 juxtaposing words to respond to in our outcomes. These were:

Trial & Error

Strength & Weakness

Names & Faces

Bits & Pieces

Quiet & Loud

Beauty & Beast

Forwards & Backwards

Order & Chaos

Lost & Found

Winners & Losers

Strong & Weak

Positive & Negative

Time & Place

The aim of this workshop was to produce a series of prints, using the words we selected, perhaps capturing the essence of the words or even using letters from them to create something with a completely new meaning. Using the artist David Carson as the influence, we were encouraged to be rough with our prints and to put any typographic rules we have learnt to the side.

David Carson

David Carson, who many claim to be the ‘godfather’ of grunge typography, was born on September 8, 1954 in Corpus Christi, Texas. He accumulated his bachelor of arts degree from San Diego State University, although initially planning to study sociology. It was only in his later life when Carson started to pursue graphic design as a career. In fact, surfing was a large part of his life, with him being ranked the 9th best surfer in the world 1989. David Carson’s background is clearly very different from the conventional artist. This clearly shows through his rough, disorganised style of work which goes against many of the principals of design and typography.

Here are three examples of some of his work. I chose the first and third examples as they relate to the process we explored in this workshop: block relief printing. The centre uses some different techniques to do with photographic collaging which slightly resembles Robert Rauschenberg’s work with the various layers roughly overlapped. So I thought it would be good to compare how the two artists use similar techniques in different scenarios.

In terms of the block relief examples, the left is a quotation reading “The end of print David Carson”. “The End Of Print” is a collection of his works which he published as a book. What interests me about this left print is how different typefaces, sizes and orientations have been united by their similar colour. What is especially interesting about Carson’s work, is although at first the perception of it may seem to be almost ‘messy’, there is always an underlying consistency to the letters. Whether this be through colour like the example to the left, or to the right where there is a more obvious control of their orientation. The right image is still limited to just 3 print colours. However, this one features a lot of overlap and weaker prints to give an eroded effect. With all this going on, every single print is still carefully placed with its orientation considered. It’s either horizontal or vertical, which is what gives the chaotic nature of the layering and random letters such a strong contrast. Altogether, there is a balance to ensure Carson’s message is still perceived, yet it may not be the obvious message being portrayed by the type itself.

“Don’t mistake legibility for communication”

When David Carson says “Don’t mistake legibility for communication”, I relate it back to these three examples I have chosen. The original message of the letterpresses is overshadowed by their arrangement and manipulation, causing them to have a new meaning. Just because the letters may not be legible, this doesn’t mean that they are not communicating anything. On the contrary, they give a completely new meaning to the piece once they are collaged together.

The middle example showcases Carson taking advantage of imagery to compliment the typography. Because the type has meaning and supports the message, he hasn’t manipulated it to the point where it is unrecognisable. Rather, the viewer can still read the type but is slightly held back from doing so by how inconsistent it is. Along with the imagery of destroyed buildings in the background and a bomb in the bottom left, the piece has a powerful sense of destruction.

‘The End of Print’ showcases a lot more examples of instances where David Carson has used typography along with imagery. He worked as an art director, designing various magazines which often focused around skateboarding and surfing. Magazines use type and image as the core components of each page; this is why I have chosen some examples of his work on magazines to show how he implements the two. Below are examples of spreads he produced for “Surfer”, to redesign their outdated design.

Carson’s work on “Beach Culture” was arguably the first chance he got to make an impact on typography and design as a whole. ‘Beach Culture’ was owned by the parent company ‘Surfer Publications’, who also owned the magazine ‘Surfer’. Throughout 1991 and 1992, Carson was hired to give ‘Surfer’ a new look essentially. Their designs were still working to 1970s conventions, so this gave David Carson the chance to redesign their magazines using a completely new approach. Being a previous professional surfer himself, it is interesting to see how he visually interprets his passion into magazine spreads. As well as this, some of the pages used Photoshop to manipulate the type, which makes these examples some of the earliest uses of Photoshop.

The main thing that stood out to me instantaneously was the extreme contrast between the display and read type. Carson’s style is wild, but if this rough edginess was translated into the read type of a magazine, it’s functionality would suffer. Because of this, he controls when and where he uses the spontaneous scale and position and restricts it to the display type, causing a large contrast. For a specific example of this, the page which reads “the photos that changed the way we surf”, the “we surf” type is so much more impactful due to its extreme size in comparison to the other type. Read type is typically at a 10-12 point size, but “the photos that changed the way” is a lot larger than this. However, in comparison to the rest of the type on the canvas, it serves as read type as it serves for no interpretation.

Process

As a class, we first prepared some typeface trays to choose our letters from. These consist of 26 characters in assorted styles and sizes, so multiple people choosing which trays they like meant as a class there was a range of type to work with. David Carson very rarely stuck with one typeface. He would use various different ones to compliment the chaotic composition. Once we selected a few typefaces, the next step was to start preparing the blocks by inking them. I started off using a palette knife to spread some of the oil-based ink onto the workspace, before using an ink roller to spread the ink further onto the desk. I did this until the ink reached the right consistency, which was indicated by the sound resembling a smooth hissing noise. Next, I used the same ink roller to roll some of the ink onto the letter blocks. I didn’t ink all of my letters at once, however, because I was going to use different colours later on so I had to keep some of the letters dry at this stage. Saying this, there was always the opportunity to clean the blocks and re-ink them with another colour.

Cleaning the blocks was done with ‘white spirit’ and a cloth. We used white spirit because the ink, being oil based, doesn’t wash away with water. The white spirit is needed to dilute the ink enough so that it becomes easier to wipe off the blocks. Once wiped, the little amount of white spirit that may be left on the blocks quickly dries, meaning the blocks are ready to be re-inked.

Now the blocks were inked, the next stage was to go to a printing press and start making the actual reliefs. The blocks were the first thing that went onto the presses, followed by the paper we were printing on. But because it is a relief print, I had to take into account how they will be flipped when I turn the paper over. What I liked especially about this disorganised way of looking at type, was that even if I did make a mistake, for instance with the orientation of one of my letters, it doesn’t take away from the meaning of the overall piece. This pushed me to be more loose with my work, and not to care so much about making small mistakes.

Once the letters and the paper were laid onto the bed, I then pushed it into the press and pulled the lever to force the press downwards. If the lever could be pulled effortlessly, then I needed to add more packing (newspaper). If it was impossible to pull all the way across, then I needed to take some of the packing out. At the right point, the blocks make a sharp imprint into the paper, but not too much pressure is added to damage the paper or even the blocks themselves.

Although this process takes longer than screen printing, I prefer it because of how free I am to alter the prints. Whereas with screen printing I am limited to what is exposed onto the screen, with block relief printing I can very easily change how I lay out each block and changing colours is a lot easier. Therefore, I think the extra time it takes is worth it due to how much happier I am of the outcome.

Review

In conclusion, I think I captured the essence of David Carson well through the limitation of colour and orientation. I also think I responded well to the words and using a mixture of legibility and distortion to portray their meanings. “Chaos” is printed in various colours, typefaces and positions to convey the meaning of the work. There is no balance or organisation to the way “chaos” is printed which makes the word seem in a frenzy of some sort. To contrast this, to word “order” follows opposing rules. I thought about its composition, placing it in the middle and the word as a whole is readable. One thing I wanted to do better and is something I will work on if I revisit block relief printing, is the quality of the print. I wanted to produce a print with a clinical line which complimented the word “order” but struggled with achieving this accuracy. Saying this, I was aware that making mistakes doesn’t always take away from the outcome; I think this is the case for me this time as I think the subtle texture around “order” could represent a slight corruption (which also links with the rough ink marks occurring all around the page).

In terms of the volume of work produced from this workshop, I didn't achieve my aim to produce roughly 5 prints. However, I focused on being happy with one outcome as opposed to rushing 5. Because block prints take more time, especially in large groups, I feel like it was unrealistic to produce 5 prints, all of which I am satisfied with.

Looking Back

Looking back at David Carson’s quotation “don’t mistake legibility for communication”, my outcome is a good example of this in practice. The legibility of the word “chaos” is skewed so much to the point of it being unreadable in the conventional sense. Each letter being roughly placed onto the page and in some cases overlapped with other letters still communicate the feeling of chaos, so the legibility of the word changes whilst the communication doesn't. On the other hand, the legibility of “order” is controlled so that the word still reads like usual which is an example of the message being understood at face value.

Being the last workshop of the ‘Lost and Found’ workshop, the main thing I have learnt is the mindset of different artists and how this applies to my own work. Thinking about possible routes I could take my project, the printing processes have rarely been regarded as a strength of mine. Along with this, I don’t feel like I am more likely to use them for my final outcomes; this doesn’t mean the workshops were a waste of time at all. On the contrary, instead of the primary focus being on the processes themselves, I focused on the artists we used as inspiration and their outlook on their work. With this information, I have learnt a lot about how I should approach my own work by being constantly motivated to challenge myself with new ideas.

Moving Forward

With what I have taken away from the ‘Lost and found’ workshop series (especially this last workshop), my main aim is to be challenging myself and my ideas with new unfamiliar practices. I found the rough way of working to be especially helpful for gathering ideas, but I think my next step isn’t to gain more ideas, but to start refining them into what I think will be the most effective in fulfilling the brief. My aim isn’t to choose a final idea yet as I feel like this will limit the practical work I produce, but I do feel like with these workshops I am starting to get to the point of too many ideas which could lead to me losing track of my initial passions.

Because I have primarily worked with type recently, the first step of me challenging my ideas is to visit other areas of design. I plan to visit what I see myself using for my outcomes (branding and animation). After this is when I can start combining what I have learnt together.

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