A series of draft logos for MarketScout Wholesale, a business-to-business (B2B) financial services organization.

Fonts in this series include Avenir, Eurostile, Gotham and Neuzeit.

© skipper chong warson for scw creative, 2010.

post tags: concept, identity, typography

A series of draft logos for The Business Experts, a local firm offering CPA, IT and design services.

Fonts in this series include Eurostile, Garamond, Gotham and Palatino.

© skipper chong warson for scw creative, 2010.

post tags: concept, identity, typography

A series of draft logos for Franklin Jones, a local firm that does process quality improvement and quality assurance.

Fonts in this series include Avant Garde, Gotham, Matrix, Ottomat and Platelet.

© skipper chong warson for scw creative, 2010.

post tags: concept, identity, typography

Web site for Ten Gallon Hat designs (custom furniture, wooden accessories and other artisan work) built in Wordpress for ease of client maintenance. Includes a jQuery-based sliding panel for image display and organization.

Along with the logo and the bulk of the site’s photography, the web site was built with the end experience in mind. Like Jonathan’s artistic statement, “… Organic forms that combine aesthetic and comfort, while unconventional construction and raw beauty of materials present a true sense of freedom.”

© skipper chong warson for scw creative, 2010.

post tags: branding, css, identity, photography, user interface design, wordpress

Web site for Artifact Workshop Records built in Wordpress for ease of client maintenance. Social media linked, not integrated.

© skipper chong warson for scw creative, 2010.

post tags: css, social media, user interface design, wordpress

Catalog design for Laura Morgan designs. These books were designed 8.5″ by 8.5″ square and printed by the client. The pages are held together by a binder ring — designed such that the pages can be easily removed or added. A select few of the rings contain some kind of jeweled bobble, some small piece of Laura’s jewelry stock. Most — for cost reasons — do not.

After designing several pieces of her branding and identity — including logo cleanup, her business cards and jewelry tags — it was clear that Laura Morgan designs needed a clean and elegant look as so much of her work is inspired by nature, architecture and oil paintings. As such, the font used on most of Laura’s collateral is Avant Garde Gothic.

© skipper chong warson for scw creative, 2010.

post tags: branding, editorial layout, print design

In late November, I began to compile my end of the year music list. This is what I came up with then:

1. Japandroids – Post-Nothing
2. Andrew Bird – Noble Beast
3. Grizzly Bear – Veckatimest
4. Titus Andronicus – the Airing of Grievances
5. Animal Collective – Merriweather Post Pavillion
6. Antlers – Hospice
7. Dirty Projectors – Bitte Orca
8. Franz Nicolay – Major General
9. Neko Case – Middle Cyclone
10. Sonic Youth – Eternal

After much rumination, here are my final albums — 19 albums, two EPs and one compilation album. Two albums that do not show up on my list — though they have incredible merit — are the Animal Collective and Decemberists releases. I figure, besides, that enough people have on their own lists. Consider them a tie for spot number 21.

As for my first pass — Titus Andronicus was technically released last year with a remaster issued in 2009 and Franz Nicolay, while a good album, doesn’t need to hold my 2009 love for the Hold Steady. And Antlers is a solid spin as well, but didn’t track as many listens as other 2009 albums in my iTunes.

1. Japandroids – Post-Nothing
2. Andrew Bird – Noble Beast
3. Grizzly Bear – Veckatimest
4. Mos Def – the Ecstatic
5. Throw Me the Statue – Creaturesque
6. M.Ward – Hold Time
7. the Harlem Shakes – Technicolor Health
8. Neko Case – Middle Cyclone
9. Destroyer – Bay of Pigs
9. Dirty Projectors – Bitte Orca
10. HEALTH – GET COLOR
11. Sea Wolf – White Water, White Bloom
12. Sunset Rubdown – Dragonslayer
13. Jarvis Cocker (Further Complications, cameo in and song from Fantastic Mr. Fox)
14. Dark was the Night compilation
15. the Breeders – Fate to Fatal
15. Clues – Clues
16. Dan Auerbach – Keep it Hid
17. Raekwon – Only Built for Cuban Links, Pt. 2
18. Port O’Brien – Threadbare
19. Sonic Youth – Eternal
20. Phoenix – Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

And here’s the corresponding mixtape.

1. Port O’Brien – Tree Bones
2. Andrew Bird – Fitz and the Dizzy Spells
3. the Clues – Haarp
4. Sea Wolf – O Maria!
5. Mos Def – History (featuring Talib Kweli)
6. the Breeders – Fate To Fatal
7. Throw Me the Statue – Ancestors
8. Japandroids – Rockers East Vancouver
9. the Decemberists – The Wanting Comes In Waves/Repaid
10. Dirty Projectors – No Intention
11. the Harlem Shakes – Strictly Game
12. Sonic Youth – What We Know
13. HEALTH – Die Slow
14. Raekwon – Mean Streets
15. Jarvis Cocker – Fantastic Mr. Fox AKA Petey’s Song
16. Jarvis Cocker – I Never Said I Was Deep
17. Dan Auerbach – Whispered Words
18. Destroyer – Bay of Pigs
19. Neko Case – Polar Nettles
20. Grizzly Bear – While You Wait for the Others
21. Ruby Isle – My Girls (Animal Collective cover)
22. Sunset Rubdown – Paper Lace
23. White Denim – Regina Holding Hands
24. Justin Vernon + Aaron Dessner – Big Red Machine (from Dark was the Night compilation)
25. Phoenix – Love Like A Sunset

Download zip file.

This mixtape — yes, I still call ‘em tapes — will be hosted until I post a new one so get it while you can. All copyrights remain with respective writers, publishers, etc. If you like what you hear, support the artists and creatives however you can.

© skipper chong warson for scw creative, 2010.

post tags: yearly mix

Dear Santa:

As no doubt you have been monitoring my being naughty or being nice this year — which brings up a whole other thing about online and offline privacy, we can discuss that later though — I’d like to pose a question, does your standard for being good come strictly from the song, “Santa Claus is Coming to Town?” I ask because I want to be clear.

If this is the case, the concept of good seems to linked to the phrase “for goodness sake.” So, being good is good because it’s the right thing to do. Yes? The right thing to do?

In that vein, let me take this opportunity to talk to you a minute about your branding. Because why? Because it’s the right thing to do. continue reading …

© skipper chong warson for scw creative, 2009.

post tags: commentary, copywriting, print design, seasonal

Identity and business card design for Ten Gallon Hat Designs. These cards are foil printed on thin sheets of oak and then cut into 3.5″ by 1.5″ cards by Cards of Wood in Michigan. A second part — not yet implemented — includes a small rectangular white sticker that includes three photos of some of his designs, a kind of mini-portfolio. This will go on the front of the card in the upper right-hand corner.

The outlines were done by a previous designer and we cleaned them up. The font on the logo and on the cards is Eurostile.

© skipper chong warson for scw creative, 2009.

post tags: business cards, identity, typography

My last 10 entries for the 30/60/90 project. The above photo was taken in New Orleans in 2009.

Daily writing prompt, Day 50
The fun fact on the inside of a Snapple cap.
- Kristoffer Diaz, playwright

XX1: There was one.
XX2: This is ridiculous.
XX1: There was one, I know. She had to disguise herself as a man.
XX2: In the Revolutionary War? Come on!
XX1: I don’t remember her name, I can look it up though.
XX2: Women should not be in combat situations, period. That’s my point. I don’t care about what happened in history.
XX1: She was found out by a doctor, who fell in love with her.
XX2: That’s like a movie of the week.
XX1: I’m sure it’s true. I read it somewhere. A book. Newspaper. Maybe a bottle cap fact.
XX2: All of that fit on a bottle cap?
XX1: I don’t remember.
XX2: You’ve got the memory of an elephant.
XX1: Elephants have great memories.
XX2: It’s an urban myth.
XX1: How do you know?
XX2: I just know.
XX1: You know, when I was your age I thought I knew everything too.
XX2: But elephants do have great memories.
XX1: No, they don’t.
XX2: Yes, they do.
XX1: No.
XX2: Yes.
XX1: No!
XX2: Yes!

BEAT.

XX1: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes they do.

BEAT.

XX2: Okay, all right.
XX1: Thank you.
XX2: But I still think it’s ridiculous for women to be in combat.
XX1 (exasperated): Mom!

Daily writing prompt, Day 49
Someone loses his/her voice
- Megan Monaghan, literary manager/dramaturg/new work nurturer

The first time I met him, he couldn’t speak above a whisper. Last night at dinner, his wife talked about his great booming voice, which I had a hard time hearing because I have no idea how that’d sound. As far as I’m concerned, he’s always spoken in this way, in his hoarse whisper.

He admitted to me, while opening a bottle of pinot grigio in the kitchen, that when he was a kid he had a stutter. While he recounted the details, I thought of how aerodynamically a bumblebee shouldn’t be able to fly, but the yellow and black insect doesn’t know any better and so it goes on flying anyway. He had the benefit of being able to feel his speech blocks before they manifested and so he trained himself, using magazine ads and picture cards, to relax his tongue and lips, exhale, and spit the word out.

Daily writing prompt, Day 48
You’ve made a promise that suddenly becomes very expensive to keep.
- Steven Tomlinson, economist/teacher/writer

She said, I’m way beyond your means. Beyond my means, I asked. She tapped her finger on her lips, this is one of two things she did when she was thinking about something. What exactly do you mean beyond my means, I asked again.

I asked because cost is a funny thing, whether it’s a monetary expense, an emotional price, an expenditure of time, trouble or a sacrifice. But it’s also a necessary thing, I think, and autobiography is very different from the truth, both of which can be a great distance from popular opinion. Cost is a funny thing, I know.

She said that she was a fussy girl, that there was no way I could afford her in the long run. My mom, the epitome of hard work and dedication, taught me to never expect anything for free. But here’s the thing, when you decide on something, when you dedicate yourself to an idea, you want to pay for it, you want to participate, you don’t want a handout.

And so I asked her, Would you want it if it were without cost? Would you want it if it were free?

What’s that, she asked. What’s it?

Daily writing prompt, Day 47
Every time I hear the word Dad . . .
- Jacqueline Lawton, playwright/performer/dramaturg

“Are you taking over or are you taking orders? Are you going backwards or are you going forwards?”

His ancient Telecaster — you can tell it’s his because of the “Ignore Alien Orders” sticker — leans against the wall and I raise my glass to St. Joe Strummer, I think it’s true, he might have been our only decent teacher.

Daily writing prompt, Day 46
Run around your block right now, come back and write for five minutes without thinking.
- Daniel Alexander Jones, playwright/performer/director

like a halo, the heat roosts around my ears,
it’s heavy-handed and oppressive,
who cares if it’s the humidity or the temperature itself,
it’s like a jet engine firing full throttle and
punching underneath your skin

inhaling, I feel as though I’m sucking in the fever end of a candy cane
and my lungs can’t quite keep up,
just a few steps behind at first and
then beginning to lag more and more
until you’re running all alone

when I take my shoes off,
it’s as though I can hear them hissing and groaning in relief,
like a soda bottle fizzing upon opening,
releasing pressure and gas

“That’s all you kids ever talk about is the weather,” my father used to say. “Why don’t you talk about something useful,” he’d ask before he added with a smirk, “Like politics.” He thought this was especially funny because I worked as a lobbyist for a telecom firm, I’m not supposed to say which one, but we’ve hit some hard times lately. I live in D.C. — well, no, technically that’s not true, I live in Virginia but I spend most of my week in D.C.

My father hates what I do. He thinks that my salary is drawn directly from the fees, taxes and surcharges on his various phone bills. “You must be making a mint,” he quips. No, I don’t think he hates what I do, he doesn’t know what I do. It’d be more accurate to say that he doesn’t care what I do. Never has and never will. This is what a trust fund will do for you, will do to you. Fuckin’ trust fund brat.

I know, I know. Where does that put me? Son of a trust fund brat? I know, I know.

Daily writing prompt, Day 45
A desire is stolen
- Caridad Svich, playwright

a desire at gunpoint,
an emotion tucked into the waistband of jeans just loose enough to evade suspicion,
a poached feeling

wait for something better,
wait for the next thing, it’s got to be it,
the future holds such promise,

a glittering kind of coverage,
bright, shiny

out of the corner of your eye, you notice the police car sitting at the curb,
hovering, watching, waiting –
when in fact, the patrolman is talking on the phone making plans for Friday night

one excuse begats another,
one excuse looks like another,
they all look the same,
pull one excuse from inside another,
one more reason to stay in bed,
tomorrow always seems to work better

stop, just stop,
this time it means us,
this time it’s just us

Daily writing prompt, Day 44
He is breathing heavily.
- David Gunderson, writer/editor/performer

The applause begins slowly, peppering the silence of the club, becoming more succinct and resounding. The stage lights are bright, the lights are always so bright on a Friday night at the Hothouse. He mopped at his brow and put his hands together in the shape of a prayer, bowing to the audience. He closed his eyes for a moment and thought about the five years he’d spent in Chicago, the four years he burned in New York and how things never seemed to catch fire, never seemed to line up — one smoky, low-lit room after another.

At first, things seemed optimistic and as though they were looking up, but it was his novelty, he was the new kid in town, after all. Don’t jinx it, he thought, Don’t think about the past, there’s no value in that.

He breathes in heavily. His whole body is tingling, bristling, like an electrified rod. Though his voice is raw and lower in his throat, it’s normal for the end of a gig. Sure, he has certain rituals — honey, lozenges, a bottle of red wine — but he knows that his voice will not last the year. It can’t, he’s asked so much of it. At the very least, he’ll have to take a break for the winter, maybe somewhere warm — that” get him through the spring and summer, make things stretch out, make things nice.

He looks out, this is the regular Friday crowd. He knows they’ll want an encore — maybe “You Wouldn’t Fool Me,” maybe “I’m A Ding Dong Daddy From Dumas,” maybe “Stardust.” The clapping continues, a young blond kid wearing a too-new fedora (trying to impress his date) and sporting a tie worn much too short (he’d probably just finished some Kerouac book) shouts out “What a Wonderful World.” The jazz singer shakes his head, shaking it slowly. Then, he looks towards the back, towards the wall of mirrors, catches the eye of the bartender and nods. Danny knows what that means, he always knows — an encore cocktail. Just a little, just one hit, he owes it to his fans, he owes it to his regulars whose drinks will pay him $600 cash tonight. A few more weeks of the Hothouse and he can take a break, lie in the sun when the shakes come and jump in the water when the fever strikes. Just a little more, just a little farther. Just a little bit.

Daily writing prompt, Day 43
Consider the phrase “love your enemy.”
- Michael John Garcés, playwright/performer/director

A small bedroom with an agit-prop poster on the wall. Two people are tussling in bed, the sounds of sex are clear. Black out an instant before the culmination. Silence.

Lights up on a small table. A young man sits uneasily. Another man enters, holding a drink.

Bartender: Edgar.
Edgar: Hi. I didn’t order this, did I?
Bartender: She did. For you. Asked me to send it over.
Edgar: I don’t want to look.
Bartender: She’s at the end of the bar.
Edgar: Of course she is.
Bartender: She’s blonde.
Edgar: Bad start.
Bartender: Send it back?
Edgar: Keep going. My type? One to 10?
Bartender (rubbing his fingers together to indicate money): A solid seven.
Edgar: Good for a drink. Polite?
Bartender: She’s been in a few times, seems nice enough. Not real chatty though.
Edgar: Nice to you though?
Bartender: Amiable and to the point.
Edgar: If someone treats a bartender like shit, never a good reflection. Thanks, Sam.
Bartender: Sure thing.

Edgar raises his glass off-stage, Bartender exits and Edgar sips his drink. Some time passes and an older woman dressed in a smart suit saunters over to the table.

Business woman: Corny, I know.
Edgar: It’s got its own kind of charm.
Business woman: Who sends over drinks anymore?
Edgar: I didn’t mind.
Business woman: I didn’t want to presume.
Edgar: Presume what exactly?
Business woman: A nice young like you sitting here by yourself.
Edgar: I was hoping that you’d notice.
Business woman: You did?
Edgar: You work at the Surety Trust on 52nd, don’t you?
Business woman (taken aback): Wow.
Edgar: I thought that I recognized you.
Business woman: How did you know?
Edgar: My great aunt just passed away and she left me several large bonds as an inheritance.
Business woman: I’m sorry.
Edgar: She was a nice woman. And very kind.
Business woman: I’m sorry.
Edgar: Thank you for saying so. You were working Thursday, right?
Business woman: Guilty as charged. I head risk management.
Edgar: Sounds exciting.
Business woman: Eh, it’s a lot of market analysis and evaluation of credit risk.
Edgar: Ooh.
Business woman (stuttering): Enough about me, what about you?
Edgar: Me?
Business woman: Yes, what about you.
Edgar: Little ol’ me?
Business woman: I could just eat you up with a spoon.
Edgar: I’d like to see you try.

Their eyes lock. Black out.

Fade up on small bedroom with an agit-prop poster. Edgar and the banker are standing, kissing and groping, their clothes are strewn everywhere.

Business woman: What did you say that you did anyway?
Edgar: Hard to explain.
Business woman: Try.
Edgar: Hard to explain, might not be the best time.
Business woman: No time like the present.
Edgar: Think of it as the polar opposite of what you do.
Business woman (jokingly): Do you rob banks?
Edgar: I’m a child of the rainbow.

The kissing stops.

Business woman: A what of the what?
Edgar: A child of the rainbow.
Business woman: You’re a hippie?
Edgar: Not in an exact sense.
Business woman: Hey, I like to put on my old Grateful Dead records once in a while.

BEAT.

Edgar: Anything else you want to know?
Business woman: Favorite color?
Edgar: Yellow.
Business woman: Anything you need to know?
Edgar: Are you a natural blonde?
Business woman: Only one way to find out.

A beat. And they resume kissing with abandon and fall onto the bed, blackout.

Daily writing prompt, Day 42
I do all my best thinking underwater.
- Amy Stewart, writer

“I do all my best thinking underwater,” she said before she spit into her mask and rubbed it on the inside surface of the lens. “It’s the quiet.”

Just before that she said, “We might have to add more weight. I really want for you to sink. And I don’t love you anymore. I know we’ve got you loaded up with 10 pounds already, I brought four more pounds just in case.”

And just before that, “I don’t know how anyone thinks that wet suits are sexy. Look at this, six mil,” she said pinching the fabric around her wrist. “Fuckin’ Hollywood.”

I looked at her as though seeing her for the very first time. Glints of sunlight shone off the water and caught her eyes. What’s funny is that I thought we were having a good day. Anniversary, drive to the beach with the top down, singing at the top of our lungs to Jimmy Cliff’s “You Can Get It If You Really Want” — though, I think, the version by Desmond Dekker has more soul — and the diving trip.

Daily writing prompt, Day 41
I’m not sure how to tell you this, but…
- Kristen Gandrow, writer/dramaturg

“I’m not sure how to tell you this, but I have to tell you this. Are you awake?”

She murmurs and nods. I can feel this on the pillow.

“I need for you to listen to me for a minute, I need to get this all out.”

She jumped in, “Are you mad at me, she asked, Was it something I said earlier?”

“No, no,” I said. “Nothing like that, just listen.” Deep breath and, “I am becoming very fond of you, I don’t know how you feel about me but that’s how I feel about you. If you don’t feel the same I can take my own feelings and parlay them into our friendship — I will never bring this up ever again. But if in some part of your heart, you feel similar , I’d like to try and see where a relationship between you and I takes us. I don’t know, this could be the worst idea in the world, I have no clue, but I think it’s pretty clear that we’ve got some crazy chemistry. Our friendship is also very important to me and so I want to be very clear but I also think that if there’s the potential for something more, we’ve been spending so much time together lately, I’d kick myself if I didn’t say something before we fell asleep.”

I paused and sucked in air slowly, wondering if I said everything, hoping that I said things in the best way. But the room feels more languid somehow, it feels dense like a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel, I can imagine fish swimming by my face in the thickness just in front of my eyes. And I wait, I wait for her to say something, to answer, to say anything.

© skipper chong warson for scw creative, 2009.

post tags: 306090, asw