Over the past four years I have developed a fascination with letterforms. Typography, the art and technique of arranging type in order to make language visible, has the capacity to convey ideas and emotions, concepts that root an overall design. In this sense, typography and graphic design are codependent entities.

Designing a typeface was something I had wanted to accomplish at some point in my life. As a graduating senior at Suffolk University and the New England School of Art and Design, facing a two credit deficit, I decided that now was the time. From this, Abode was born:

Abode is a display typeface, conceptually designed around the eloquence of counters within the letterforms and the grace of negative space.

Imperfect in many ways, Abode embraces the relationships of the counters between various letterforms, generating interest through pattern.

If you fancy Abode, feel free to download it here.

This is Mira. She is lovely, though there was a time when she was quite crude, in many ways. Then I met Mr. Jeremy Ross:

That is his Number 1 on the left, an ideal cruiser for his commute from Somerville to JP each day. In his craft, building bicycles, he is an artist. After reinventing Mira, he offered an old Schwinn frame that was gifted to him to my roommate. I offered to build it with him.

Time had not been good to her: decades of wear and erosion from residing in a basement for the past few years had taken a told. The previous owner fixed the rear wheel to the frame with a u-lock, but had neglected to remove it. A few hours and more than a few drill bits later, we finally broke it off, and then promptly decided we would make the worst bicycle thief’s in the world.

In that dusty basement, where the wrenches have legs and Tom Waits is always on the radio, Jeremy is in his element. Aesthetically, his bike do not look lifted from the factory line: that have imperfections, but there is beauty to be found in character. Functionally, they are perfect.

Two bikes led to three, three to four, slowly but surly Jeremy is amassing a fleet of cork handle bars.

Most recently, he built this beauty for Eli, a friend of mine and a fellow Mr. Jeremy Ross enthusiast. Eli, noticing the growing amount for Jeremy Ross originals within the company we keep, had the idea of making a logo for his designs. It would become a declaration to any wandering eye that this bicycle, in one way or another, this bicycle was affected by Mr. Jeremy Ross. As presumably the only graphic designer he knows, Eli approached me with the idea.

Many of his projects are victims of time, neglected and forgotten until they find there was to Jeremy’s basement. He gives them new life, embellishing their vintage nature and character, creating modern rides. I designed his logo to reflect this, and I couldn’t be happier.

If you fancy reading about everything from bicycles to tying your shoes, check out his blog The Waxed Word.

Often we miss out on life when we find ourselves troubled by our past or concerned about our future. This phrase has kept me rooted most of my life, a reminder to enjoy the present and live for the moment. It is a message I feel is worth passing on.

Second Iris, featuring Emily R.

Hand crafted, reappropriated jewelry.

Twenty five cents for a fork at your local thrift store, one hour of time and patience, one unique piece for your wrist gallery.

It is a harsh truth, but a truth nonetheless. As a designer, the goal is to understand the culture of the organization, abstract the idea behind its origins, and illustrate the concept in a visual language that either initially, or subconsciously, is understood by all. After reading the declaration written by Henry, Christian, Loren and Dakota, the concept of what Deltion is resonated with me, and I was eager to become a part of it. When Christian approached me regarding designing a logo, I was more than happy to apply my craft.

Deltion is a collaboration, a forum for any artist to share their ideas, inspire other artists, and build on their experiences. It is a collective, and a community. The name is Greek, meaning “small writing tablet”, used for the conveyance of ideas. Visual speaking, a solid place to begin:

After some back and forth we quickly realized the literal translation wasn’t working out graphically. The next iteration focused on the typographic strength of the name, the “Delta” aspect drawn from the greek alphabet:

Once again, nothing clicked. Starting from square one is not easy to accept, and is inherently frustrating, but it is the paramount lesson I have learned as a designer. Consider the message you are trying to convey, abstract the nexus of the concept, and doodle:

Like Deltion, this idea of ink and identity resonated with me. This notion of a collective identity, comprised of dynamic individuals who create in varying mediums, tied together by a universal element: ink. Ink has the capacity to convey ideas, transversing mediums and expressions, collectively making the whole greater than the sum of its parts:

In the end, the creative process, however exhausting, is validated when an idea manifests itself naturally. It may be the first, or the twenty third iteration, but with time and contemplation creativity has a way of reaching an equilibrium. Deltion was founded on the truest of intentions, and serves as a place where artistic expression creates a community. A collective identity, connected through ink.

A statistical, historical, and cultural summary of (almost) everything cycling in New York City.

Albert Einstein: the scientist, the musician, the pacifist, the visionary. Time magazine’s man of the 20th century, his name would become synonymous with genius. He would revolutionize the realm of theoretical physics, but his curiosity was not reserved for the unknown universe. Like many of us he often contemplated our Earthly concerns: from love and passion to time and the meaning of our existence. His words are eloquent in their modesty, but his thoughts are our own. This illustrated collection from the Einstein exhibition, on display in the Modern Gallery of Illustrious Individuals, pays tribute to the man who lent us an intellectual perspective on our lives and our world.

See the entire Einstein series here.

See the entire project here.

Typically described as, typical, Joe thought he’d seen it all after the Greater Depression hit in 2014. Growing up he found solace in small town life… making a career for himself in the Public Works Department and coaching little league on the weekends. After the infection broke out everything changed, and Joe’s midlife crisis consisted of one thing: KILLIN’ ZOMBIES. As a creature of habit, bashing brains has become part of his daily routine, following his morning cup of coffee and powdered donuts.

Meet the rest of the survivors.