Hello World

"Don't touch anything," my Dad sternly commanded, wrinkling his brow in that certain way where you can tell he's confused, but just on the verge of a solution. He held a tangle of cables and cords, puzzling over a telephone book of instructions printed in both English and Japanese. My Mom drummed her fingers, looking bored and frustrated. I, for my part, gave all the help I was capable of giving by spinning around as fast as possible in the adjustable office chair.

There it sat, on a desk against the wall, in the room with the old zebra-stripped couch that smelled like dust, and the flimsy pressboard bookshelf housing an entire hardback set of Encyclopedia Britannica. This foreign invader, so strange in it's beige, boxy shell. The television seemed to look on in distress, worrying about being replaced.

Suddenly, with an electric fan whir and a happy little beep, the box sprang to life, emitting an alien glow. Filling the room with an eerie cast, throwing our shadows to the far wall.

I shot my feet out to the floor, stopping the chair mid-spin, focusing in on the bright white letters. They burned my eyes a little, jumping out from that deep blue, undulating with color and light.

I reached out my hand.

"She touched that thing!" my Mom cried, "why is there an hourglass?! This thing is broken!"

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Within a few minutes of meeting someone new, it invariably comes up, "What do you do?" quickly followed by, "How'd you get in to that? Do you like it?"

Everyone wants to know, are you happy? And if you are...how did you do it? Can I do it too?

Where did it all begin? When was the moment that it all came together and you said, 'Here it is, this is the thing that will change my life?'

It's been a few years since my introduction to the computer (maybe more than a few), but I still remember that first taste like it was yesterday. I didn't know right off the bat that I would end up using them to make art, but I did know that I wanted to learn everything about them, discover how they worked from the ground up; break them down and rebuild them, create something new.

One of my Mom's favorite stories to tell about me is the time she bought a new vacuum and couldn't figure out how to assemble it even after reading the directions multiple times. When she had finally given up, I began to pick up the pieces and stick them together, completing the vacuum simply by studying the parts. I was five.

When my artistic talent and my penchant for advertising began to emerge, my Mom started bringing home books from the library. "It's called Graphic Design," she said, "this is you."

And that's how I knew.

Onward from the age of ten, through adolescence and into adulthood, I tapped away at countless keyboard keys and double-clicked hundreds of mice, learning to express myself by interfacing with a machine.

Which brings me to today. Happily working as a freelance Graphic Designer and teaching others to use the fascinating tools of my trade.

That's kind of a long story though, so I'll just give you my standard answer: "I'm an artist, it's a fun job."

How about you? What do you do? How do you like it?

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Here's a share, a couple of recent projects for non-profits. Using my skills to help others is part of what makes my job so great.

Christmas Party invitation for RiteCare Spokane a non-profit speech therapy clinic for children ages 2 - 7.

Site design for the Spokane Bike Swap a non-profit bicycle event to raise funds for the Friends of the Centennial Trail.