Caramblogage

And here is the latest installment in Facebook status storytelling: "It's such a sad street don't you think?" The sun had disappeared behind the heavy grey blanket again, making her melt into the surrounding drabness somewhat. He looked out, through the cover of protective grime. It protected him from onlookers and the onlookers from watching an unshaven man in his forties drinking himself into a state he felt must be happiness almost every night. He saw nothing out of the usual: Passers-by, their eyes firmly fixed on the ground or on their way, drunk Matt, singing with alcoholic gusto in front of the Frontiersman. The shopkeepers, watching the street for customers, wondering why no-one wanted their grubby wares. To him, this was home. If home was sad , that worked for him. He knew how it felt. "And what brings you to this sad part of town?" If she found this neighborhood sad, she must come from one of the upper circles of the city. This was one of the middl

This has been a very blog-light month, as general real-life business has kept me from spending time here. One of those things has been the work on a poster for Ariadne on Naxos, an opera by Richard Strauss. Have a synopsis . What I'm posting here is the cartoony project sketch I made, with the opera and cast in mind. It's very sketchy, but it captures one approach I had while planning this poster out pretty well. More to come, once I've decided which one to send off. Have a good Weekend!

This is a text- heavy post. Recently, I've been using my Facebook status for some storytelling, after a sleepless night yielded a good beginning for a tale. There is no real aim to this, except for the fun of writing status-length paragraphs.So, to recap, here is what has happened in this, yet unnamed, story to date: "…it might just turn out to be one of those days…" he thought disjointedly, as he watched the night melt into the morning, assisted by the chirping of too many birds. The light was dirty gray, the suns' rays stopped by a thick layer of rain clouds. He downed the last shot in the bottle and stared out of the window in disgust. "A new day… feels the same as the last new day…" At ten, the buzzer rang. A voice somehow made it clear it was attached to someone who wanted to wanted to offer him work. He had not worked since the Siddiq Case. He also realised he was surprised to find that someone would dare to hire him after all the controversy that had

This has also been a semester filled with some fun and some games… imagine that you were approached by Mercedes.They want to launch their new Hybrid luxury limousine in style. You are a young and aspiring copywriter for a tiny Ad agency somewhere in the boonies. What do you do? You call one of your friends over, and get to work on them. In our case, the result looks like this here (in German): Our second imaginary client was one I'd like to work for at some point (as, probably, would most designers)… my hint: . Que the famous baby music, Justin Long and John Hodgeman are standing in front of the white background and que my three favourite Mac vs. PC spots from our writers bullpen.

In this brilliant spot for Amnesty International, World leaders engage in their usual pastimes… knitting, making baloon creatures, Origami… Produced by Scholz & Friends. Thank you Mickey!

There are projects and the are Projects. Little did I know that when I embarked upon the journey to research and produce a series of magazines about disabled people, or people with disabilities that it would be such a hard ad rocky road. For a semester, I dealt with all the ills and ails the afflict human beings, delving deep into body, mind and senses. At times, I was actually scared to leave the house for fear that I might suddenly find myself struck by random bouts of schizophrenia, colour-blindness, brittle bones… When I design, it has to be real to me, so, akin to a method actor, I enjoy immersing myself in the subject at hand, until it all makes sense to me and I can feel the connection to what I'm doing. In this case, it was a dangerous road to take, as by the end of it, I did feel like I was carrying the weight of all affliction on my shoulders, without being able to block them off. The results presented here are two of a series of five magazines, not quite done, from what