This is a small deviation from the usual theme for my work posts, although it is in the same vein. You see, I've discovered the benefits of ambient background noise for increasing productivity and/or creativity. In this blog post, I introduce two websites (Coffitivity and MyNoise) that I regularly use to 'get in the zone' (in fact, I'm listening to one now).
Sunday, 30 March 2014
Sunday, 23 March 2014
Play | Poster design: Becketts Ringar
Model: Marie Brottemsmo, all photography: Veslemøy Furuseth |
I've done a number of poster for the student theatre company Immaturus in Bergen, Norway. I joined them when I was a student and was cast in the role of a mentally challenged boy. That's right. Perhaps not surprisingly, I let that be my one contribution as an actor, was on Immaturus's board and artistic board for a while, and, when the call came for someone to design a poster for a play, tried my hand at that. And that's how I got into print design. This is a making-of of a poster I did for them last autumn.
Sunday, 16 March 2014
Work | The provost sergeant and his pig
'The Pig is well, but strongly objects to the cold.' My eyes stumbled across this gem a few months ago as I was searching letters for phonetic spellings. This was written by an Ernest Cochrane in 1897 to, I believe, his niece Kate Finly.
Sunday, 9 March 2014
Play | Icon design: Wheelie bin
I have occasionally done some work designing or adjusting icons for a leading Norwegian software developing company. They make geographical information systems which are used by many municipalities (so if you work for a 'kommune' in Norway, there is a good chance you have clicked on some of my work!).
Sunday, 2 March 2014
Work | An eyewitness account of the first battle of the American Civil War
A few weeks ago I wrote about how I look for words with phonetic representation in historical letters from Irish emigrants. Usually, I don't pay much attention to what the letters are actually about, because that would slow me down too much. But sometimes I get carried away by the simple fact that I am reading a personal account of someone who lived many, many years ago. An account, even, that was never meant for anyone else than the addressee on the envelope.
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