David Press's Notes.

Sep 10

wonderful-strange:

retrosci-fi:
Tom Swift

Tom Swift was my so my thing in sixth grade. While everyone else was off reading Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew—that generic pre-teen stuff was too tame for me. I wanted something more: teenage genius inventor. I have the entire set of the last series and spent hours at the library reading the 1960s adaptations. I flipped out when Young Indiana Jones—now on Netflix (!!!)—was reading a book from the above era, and I had to have it. At home, I have three of them: Tom Swift and his Motor cycle, motor boat, and airship. 
How about this nostalgia trip.   

wonderful-strange:

retrosci-fi:

Tom Swift

Tom Swift was my so my thing in sixth grade. While everyone else was off reading Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew—that generic pre-teen stuff was too tame for me. I wanted something more: teenage genius inventor. I have the entire set of the last series and spent hours at the library reading the 1960s adaptations. I flipped out when Young Indiana Jones—now on Netflix (!!!)—was reading a book from the above era, and I had to have it. At home, I have three of them: Tom Swift and his Motor cycle, motor boat, and airship. 

How about this nostalgia trip.   

(via arcaneimages)

[video]

Sep 05

Archie Goodwin’s profile at ComicVine, by an artist I should know, but I’m drawing a blank. Can any of you jog my memory so I can slap myself upside the head? 

Archie Goodwin’s profile at ComicVine, by an artist I should know, but I’m drawing a blank. Can any of you jog my memory so I can slap myself upside the head? 

jthenr-animation-vault:

Iceman model sheet for Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends by John Falkner 

jthenr-animation-vault:

Iceman model sheet for Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends by John Falkner 

(Source: , via bigredrobot)

Sep 02

austinkleon:


How to tag your paper notebook
Awesome. (via)


Oh man, I’ve been looking for a solution to this problem all year. I’m gonna try this on my next notebook.

austinkleon:

How to tag your paper notebook

Awesome. (via)

Oh man, I’ve been looking for a solution to this problem all year. I’m gonna try this on my next notebook.

Sep 01

dharbin:

THE SEVENTH DOCTOR.
A “Persons Of Interest” drawing. You can get your own here, as my schedule allows, and see all the ones thus far here. Short version is I’ll draw any famous/widely recognizable figure, fictional or historical or just popular, just once.

dharbin:

THE SEVENTH DOCTOR.

A “Persons Of Interest” drawing. You can get your own here, as my schedule allows, and see all the ones thus far here. Short version is I’ll draw any famous/widely recognizable figure, fictional or historical or just popular, just once.

David Mitchell on His New Book The Bone Clocks — Vulture:

You could call Mitchell a global writer, I suppose, but that does not quite capture what he is doing. It is closer to say that he is a pangaeic writer, a supercontinental writer. What is for geologists a physical fact—that the world is everywhere interconnected, bound together in a cycle of faulting and folding, rifting and drifting, erosion and uplift—is, for Mitchell, a metaphysical conviction. Immensity alone, he knows, is psychologically and morally risky; it makes our own lives so comparatively insignificant that it can produce fatalism, or depression, or unimpeded self-interest. To counter that, his fiction tries again and again to square the scale of the world with the human scale, down to its smallest and inmost components. The human conscience matters because it leads to action—a captain holds his fire, a free man saves a slave—and human action matters because, if everything is interconnected, everything we do tugs on the web of space and time.

I’m fascinated by this guy. On another note, I wonder why I’m fascinated by writers with the name David. My first (and only) answer is wishful thinking, to somehow be like them, and that’s no good.   

David Mitchell on His New Book The Bone Clocks — Vulture:

You could call Mitchell a global writer, I suppose, but that does not quite capture what he is doing. It is closer to say that he is a pangaeic writer, a supercontinental writer. What is for geologists a physical fact—that the world is everywhere interconnected, bound together in a cycle of faulting and folding, rifting and drifting, erosion and uplift—is, for Mitchell, a metaphysical conviction. Immensity alone, he knows, is psychologically and morally risky; it makes our own lives so comparatively insignificant that it can produce fatalism, or depression, or unimpeded self-interest. To counter that, his fiction tries again and again to square the scale of the world with the human scale, down to its smallest and inmost components. The human conscience matters because it leads to action—a captain holds his fire, a free man saves a slave—and human action matters because, if everything is interconnected, everything we do tugs on the web of space and time.

I’m fascinated by this guy. On another note, I wonder why I’m fascinated by writers with the name David. My first (and only) answer is wishful thinking, to somehow be like them, and that’s no good.   

Aug 31

"The role of the writer is not simply to arrange Being according to his own lights; he must also serve as a medium to Being and remain open to its often unfathomable dictates. This is the only way the work can transcend its creator and radiate its meaning further than the author himself can see or perceive."

aleskot:

— Vaclav Havel, 'Disturbing the Peace'

Aug 29

Author Sean Wilsey on brownstone Brooklyn and the bonanza of Craigslist at Time Out New York.
I’m excited for this book, especially since it seems like this one might give me some guidance on homeownership:

 I bought a three-story, wood-frame, two-family dwelling in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn, and am preparing it for tenants. Bedford-Stuyvesant, until recently, was, in the words of one of my neighbors, “the ghetto of America” (slogan “Bed-Stuy, do or die”), but is now branded as Clinton Hill, which is branded as Fort Greene, which is branded as “Brownstone Brooklyn.” On two-block Claver Place the smell of ganja wafts most evenings. To the frustration of recent gentrifiers a Guyanese reggae club (Slogan: “Jah is living”) had been operating illegally, packing eight hundred people at twenty dollars a head into a backyard, with a cut, according to another neighbor, going to blind-eye-turning cops. It was here that I found my house and its large detached garage, on a 25-foot-by-127.5-foot lot. As the owner of a pickup truck and a small motorcycle I’ve always lusted after a garage in New York.

I bought the parcel for $710,000 with the help of a 2.25 percent line of credit with Wells Fargo, and began renovations with the intention of cash-out refinancing in six months, after upgrading the interiors and facade. The mortgage and rental numbers suggested I could have my garage for free. I would need to do some serious upgrading to make this happen. The initial appraiser’s report described a bathroom vanity “at the end of its economic life” and was kind in calling the kitchens’ appointments “economy grade.” I visited an appliance store a friend described as having “great prices” but left feeling lied to and gouged. Still, I needed to do something. I wanted the post-renovation apartments to be low maintenance, high quality, and beautiful, because, Jah knows, when things are beautiful they are loved and taken care of. But the more I shopped for the beautiful the more outraged I became.

Author Sean Wilsey on brownstone Brooklyn and the bonanza of Craigslist at Time Out New York.

I’m excited for this book, especially since it seems like this one might give me some guidance on homeownership:

 I bought a three-story, wood-frame, two-family dwelling in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn, and am preparing it for tenants. Bedford-Stuyvesant, until recently, was, in the words of one of my neighbors, “the ghetto of America” (slogan “Bed-Stuy, do or die”), but is now branded as Clinton Hill, which is branded as Fort Greene, which is branded as “Brownstone Brooklyn.” On two-block Claver Place the smell of ganja wafts most evenings. To the frustration of recent gentrifiers a Guyanese reggae club (Slogan: “Jah is living”) had been operating illegally, packing eight hundred people at twenty dollars a head into a backyard, with a cut, according to another neighbor, going to blind-eye-turning cops. It was here that I found my house and its large detached garage, on a 25-foot-by-127.5-foot lot. As the owner of a pickup truck and a small motorcycle I’ve always lusted after a garage in New York.

I bought the parcel for $710,000 with the help of a 2.25 percent line of credit with Wells Fargo, and began renovations with the intention of cash-out refinancing in six months, after upgrading the interiors and facade. The mortgage and rental numbers suggested I could have my garage for free. I would need to do some serious upgrading to make this happen. The initial appraiser’s report described a bathroom vanity “at the end of its economic life” and was kind in calling the kitchens’ appointments “economy grade.” I visited an appliance store a friend described as having “great prices” but left feeling lied to and gouged. Still, I needed to do something. I wanted the post-renovation apartments to be low maintenance, high quality, and beautiful, because, Jah knows, when things are beautiful they are loved and taken care of. But the more I shopped for the beautiful the more outraged I became.

Aug 28

jackngoart:

www.jackngo.com
OSST! more ink work as requested.
Ink, markers and pen on cartridge paper.

Wow, this is quite nice.

jackngoart:

www.jackngo.com

OSST! more ink work as requested.

Ink, markers and pen on cartridge paper.

Wow, this is quite nice.