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This weekend, I am in Las Vegas for some family stuff. For once, our visit has coincided with the city's First Fridays gallery night, during which a normally super-sketch neighborhood becomes a welcoming stretch with open doors for art patrons. We decided to check it out while we had the chance, since our impromptu gallery visits here have always resulted in a disappointed "Oh, they're closed. Again. Or still. Or for good."

The first stop was an old, two-story factory building that has been converted into a maze of mini-galleries. There must be close to 50 vendors in this building alone, and it was completely crawling with the usual gallery mix of older bluebloods and super-casual younkers. (Hey, I've always wanted to use the word "younker," which was always an example given at the start of every Illinois Test of Basic Skills we took through elementary school.) It reminded me of being in Lincoln, Nebraska on their gallery night... they have a similar building that serves as a strong starting point for strollers.

Although 95% of the art in the arts center was bad (yes, I said it), there were a few standouts, and I was especially impressed with how populated the place was. I did shrink a little when I passed a nine-year-old girl, then immediately passed a naked woman (surely serving as a "live painting" despite her body having only a few brushstrokes on it), but overall, I thought to myself, Good for you, Las Vegans. You do like art, and not just the Leroy Neimans on display at the Wynn.

We continued on to a contemporary gallery that had the strange combination of lower-floor exhibit of poorly executed new artists and upper-floor collection of very expensive, well-known works by famous artists (Keith Haring, Damien Hirst, David LaChapelle, etc.). The same street was blocked off, with vendors and small spaces showing varied works throughout. It was a little bit carnival, and our party joked about how City of Lost Children it was when we saw all the young kids trying so hard to be artsy. Even if they were a little amusing, I was glad to know that the creative kids in the area have a place to meet up and together pretend to be weirder than they are.

Upon passing the hot chocolate and ice cream stands, rosary vendors, and a guy who was having too much "performance art" fun with a bullhorn, we came across a tiny house that has been converted to a gallery for tattoo artists to show their non-skin work. I know I seem like I'm so culturally sophisticated and have been around the (art) block, but it's funny that I feel most at home in a casual place that shows art by tattooists. I am interested in tattooing (don't have any), but I think it's more about having a clear vision of someone's creative talent, craftsmanship, and concepts, which is not as easy to figure out in a gallery full of canvas covered in metallic puff-paint flowers and hearts. (Is the artist being ironic? Is she pulling a Picasso and messing with everyone after having mastered realism?)

The bulk of what we saw was not my taste, but the variety was broad: We saw acrylics, watercolors, oils, wood, digital (if you want to call that art, blah!), photography, and sculpture. We also saw tons of people having a good time on what is surely an oasis in the desert that is the Las Vegas arts scene, and I hope it can sustain itself and nurture some great artists. In the meantime, I'll be more committed to taking advantage of the vastly superior downtown LA gallery circuit... as well as eternally grateful that it doesn't showcase a tragic 15-year-old stand-up comedian like its Mojave sister. (Oh, yes.)

LetterCult.com, a site dedicated to "highlighting artists and designers doing remarkable work with Custom Letters," includes me on their Letter Makers list. Cool-wee. "It's nice just to be nominated," but seeing the variety of high-quality competition serves as fuel to innovate. (For instance, I could stand to broaden my lettering work with more modern, rustic, and purposely rudimentary styles. I also should improve precision to compare with some of those surely mad calligraphers!)

Working on new hand-lettering samples will be a project for me in the coming weeks, and I'll post some pieces that pass muster, as well as a chronology of how I produce lettering from thumbnail to finished digital art.

In the meantime, for great eye candy and inspiration for custom lettering, design, and logo ideas, head over to LetterCult's Letter Makers list, which provides links to all of the talented letterers.

"Don't forget to stop and smell the roses." That's a tired old phrase, but I've been relying on it a lot lately. My adult life has been a pattern of making my way along the career path at too quick a pace, then suddenly needing rest because I've tired myself out. Logic tells me to wander a bit, slow down, stop at interesting points, and be engaged in the journey itself... but it's difficult to change what I think is an inherent need to always "do do do."

This weekend, I went to a birthday party for a relative who turned 92. (See a photo of the relative, Kathleen, on my home page.) Among the attendees were several of my female relatives--an aunt, a second cousin, a third cousin, a fourth cousin--who are much older than me. They sat and talked about their family histories, work adventures, and travels around the world while younger generations started preparing a feast, and I realized to myself, Oh, we're not going to be here for just an hour. This is an all-day affair. Let the rose-smelling begin. Oh, and I guess some champagne would be just fine.

Some of my biggest fears are: becoming obsolete, losing my mental faculties, being physically dependent on another, and being out of the loop. These ladies reminded me through actions and discussion that these shouldn't be issues: First of all, when most people think 92-year-old, they picture a slow, miserable, loopy person in a nursing home. Kathleen defies that with her mile-a-minute speech, reference to (current) pop culture, and spirit. I felt relieved to meet her daughter, Opal, who has the same speedy speech and a constant "do do do" demeanor. (She repeatedly joined in the conversation circle, busied her hands with straightening or fixing something, then got up within a minute to do something useful around the house.) Seeing Opal in action was proof that Kathleen and my sturdy grandmother are not exceptions.
 
The other relatives also were youthful for their ages, and they even had a conversation about how our family doesn't get cancers, diabetes, or Alzheimer's... we have to watch out for our hearts. This was yet another small reminder that stress is a common theme in my life, and slowing down and smelling--or doing something with--those roses is a way to keep myself from manifesting my own fears.

With that, and partially fueled on the envy of my senior relatives' world adventures (Thailand in the '50s, living in Saudi Arabia, living in Bermuda, seeing all 50 states), I am re-inspired to figure out how to travel more.

Automaker Mazda's website has a good article about rebuilding their brand and making it globally consistent. In addition to addressing their own company's efforts, the piece offers solid general information about the importance of branding and what it can mean to your business.

Namely, personality and emotional connection with consumers (through the je ne sais quoi of strong branding) distinguishes one competitor from another, even when their products and services are identical.

Mazda is a gigantic corporation, but this is a good perspective for individuals and small businesses who otherwise might find themselves awash in a sea of similar providers. I add for this latter group, who often compete for a small clientele: The idea with niche markets is to take a bigger slice of pie... rather than trying to increase the size of the pie. Take the whole pie, then worry about whether a larger one exists or can be made.

Source: Mazda:Brand Strategy | Vision

When I sit down to work, I need a clean desktop: The physical desk where I'm sitting should be uncluttered, and the virtual desktop of my computer should be neat and organized. Clutter in all its forms paralyzes me, so when it accumulates, I find that taking a few minutes to purge it makes for faster, easier work.

One form of clutter I've been neglecting for months is this website. While I make my living by organizing and presenting web content for others, I always kind of slapped something on this domain as a Band-Aid instead of treating myself like I do my clients. I'd find myself with a few hours of free time on a Sunday and think, "I should work on my site," focused more on the getting-it-done part than the figuring-it-out part. Then, ten hours later, I'd find that I hadn't made much progress and would need to switch gears back to client work the next morning, so I'd hastily stitch up any open wounds and let it sit until another free, inspired Sunday. The result was a Frankensite of mismatched sections, poor navigation, and other no-nos.

Well, I finally set aside some time to suspend most of my other work and do things right for myself. (Disclaimer: I am still cleaning up things here and there and will be launching additional features soon, but it now is cohesive, presentable, and properly built for easy future updating.)

I have some client projects going on, but transitioning back into the cash flow of self-employment  has been a major challenge the past couple of months, so I decided to do this partially as a distraction from spending money. Instead of going to the movies, finding new oh-I-must-have gadgets from Sur la Table, we're staying at home and being super-productive. We're even surprising ourselves with the meals we have made from the pantry stocks that usually get overlooked like granny panties in the back of the undie drawer.

Anyway, I took the time to clean up this clutter, and beside eliminating the need for excuses to potential clients ("I'm too busy with client work, so don't pay attention to my site... it needs to be updated"), I can send people to my site without worry... AND I find myself re-energized and re-inspired to create good work for others.