What I Don't Carry to the Office

I have briefcase envy. Because my commute is between rooms in my house I don't get to outfit myself with a briefcase, so I tend to invest them with a kind of supernatural charm. They represent the "manning up" I've never been able to do. Whenever I see someone carrying a classic attaché case I can't help wondering if it contains a million dollars in unmarked bills or government secrets or just a bag lunch, a sandwich and a bag of Fritos. Bond's briefcases had cunning weaponry in them, thanks to Q. I don't carry a briefcase but I still get to draw them. I can't recall who this was for, possibly one of my department store clients, but this drawing was never used.

Thingness

I don't usually draw things from life. Usually I visualize. Sometimes I use toy or decorative ceramic versions of things as stand-ins. But there's something wonderfully concrete about the thing itself. A beauty of organization is part of usefulness. The blunt obviousness is what makes an icon; what I call "thingness." It is what it looks like, and how could we imagine it differently? Which is why I still draw dial telephones and fall back on typewriter keys to represent the machinery of letterforms. These were another exercise done at the kitchen table. Still lifes of things on hand on pieces of art paper torn into fourths, with black gouache.