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\nI think I was too close to my new school cartographically to be so far away cognitively; it was a neurological short-circuit: How could I ride my bike straight through an intersection I only three months before had used to turn left and, eight minutes later, land on another planet? I began to dislike my UW experience very shortly after it started. It felt big, cold, and impersonal, and, while I could at least appreciate the esteem of the faculty (from afar), I was surprised at how unimpressive my classmates seemed to be. Most of my friends from high school had indeed either gone to some obscure university, or some obscure country, or they had completely lost their way. My only extracurricular activity<\/a> was a disappointment. My brain and my mind were at odds with each other. These were the first two years of my college experience.
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\nIt wasn’t until I finally began the screening classes for the Visual Communication Design<\/a> major (VCD) that I really began to see the potential of the school. These classes, used to fish out the top-20-or-so design candidates from a pool of 150 – 200 applicants every year, were brutally<\/i> competitive but highly intriguing. They were a window into how the program would be (if one made it in), and the view looked pretty interesting. The major, established decades before “design” fell simplistically into the lexicon of quotidian banter, was a pioneering force that had created a self-perpetuating standard of excellence. The faculty were not only esteemed, they were uncompromising, and the best students were no less than inspiring…
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\nThe first of the two screening courses \u00e2\u20ac\u201c cataloged as “ART 205” but referred to reverently by students and faculty alike as just “205” \u00e2\u20ac\u201c tasked three successive projects: a letter-mark, a book cover, and a poster. These exact same projects had been assigned every single year for at least a decade before I entered the fray. Each project had it’s own deadline, but all had to be submitted at the end of the quarter in order for the student to be considered for entry into the next screening class: “206.”
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\nThe alphabetical letter for the mark was assigned, but what it was to represent was up to the student. Very simply, though, it had to represent a verb of some sort that started with the assigned letter. I was assigned the letter “M,” and, with that, I dipped my toe into a number of words until finally landing on “merge” \u00e2\u20ac\u201c no, “move” \u00e2\u20ac\u201c no, “merge” (I was terribly indecisive, so it was sort of supposed to be either, or both).
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Move<\/i> (or Merge<\/i>) letter mark; hand-cut Color-Aid paper on illustration board \/ 1998<\/p>\n
\nThis mark is strange. Conceptually, it doesn’t really convey the idea of “merging.” In fact, anyone willing to merge in traffic based on the graphic language of this mark is suicidal. The mark does convey “movement”, but “moving” is such a vague idea that it doesn’t take much to make it work, especially when crutched so heavily on arrows and italics. Formally, the arrows burrow themselves forcefully into the brutish outer block of the letterform, and the mark’s most interesting quality is its awkwardness.
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\nNext up was a book cover, specifically for a textbook on Genetics<\/i>. I immediately got the idea to base the cover on a mirror: My first concept was just a big thumbprint on an 8 x 10-inch bathroom mirror tile. I think the mirror was a reaction to cloning, although I honestly don’t remember for sure. What I do remember is arguing extensively with my professor and the rest of the class about whether a mirror was appropriate media for a book cover. If anyone thought my concept was bad, they never convinced me of it, so I continued basing subsequent iterations on mirrors (I’m still not sure why this was such a point of contention). As it happened, my high school textbook cover turned into more than a reflection of the weird science of the day; it became more and more reflective of my mood, as well. The final submission is so sinister looking that it wouldn’t make it past one PTA meeting in a real high school before being burned in a pile of its peers.
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\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.danielpjohnston.com\/graphic-language\/wp-content\/uploads\/2008\/09\/dpj_genetics_book_cover.jpg\" "\\"dpj_genetics_book_cover\\"")
\n<\/p>\n
Genetics<\/i> text book cover; 8 x 10in.; magazine clipping, mirror-finish adhesive-type, and hand-cut Color-Aid paper on mirror \/ 1998<\/p>\n
![\"Steven](\"http:\/\/www.danielpjohnston.com\/graphic-language\/wp-content\/uploads\/2008\/09\/dpj_holl_poster.jpg\" "\\"dpj_holl_poster\\"")
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