Whether I need a fix of some cuisine I can’t get here (and frankly, Italian is about all you can count on up here in the North Pole of NJ), an indie movie or a cultural infusion, access to New York is imperative to my survival. I may not go in for months at a time, but then that undeniable need to cross the Hudson grabs me and tosses me into the car for a visit.

This past Sunday evening, I was watching the tube and looking for something to fill the time between programs, I stumbled on a show called NYC-ARTS on NJTV. A show focused on all kinds of arts-related events and organizations in the NY metro area, this program was beautifully produced, hosted by Philippe de Montebello and Paula Zahn, offering great, timely information for the metro area culture-vulture.

As a LinkedIn member, I was also encouraged to join the NYC-ARTS group and in doing so, received an invitation to an event at their studio at Lincoln Center. I went yesterday and learned that NYC-ARTS (a partner of WNET/THIRTEEN) has been working to become a very deep and accessible treasure trove of information about the arts around us. Featuring the ability for non-profit organizations of all kinds and sizes to sign up and enhance their visibility, with tools to reach children, seniors and everyone in between, they are posting on Twitter, Facebook and Tumblr. Their new Community Relations arm is doing an important job, reaching out to make sure the message is being heard: Art DOES matter and there are lots of ways to experience the range of expression available.

In a time when art and music programs have been cut from schools, grant programs to artists have been all but eliminated, the ability to digitally and freely imbibe and distribute work has devalued artistic expression, I am thrilled to learn that NYC-ARTS has emerged to make sure we are enriched through every possible channel.

Yes, ART DOES MATTER. If you haven’t gotten the memo yet, I encourage you to explore http://www.nyc-arts.org and connect with some of the greatness that survives and thrives in our complex world.

If you agree, please cite this post and Tweet your thoughts to #DoesArtMatter , because if you’re reading this, you know it does.

One of the most sickening sights in human experience

Back in the early 1990′s, I worked for a type shop called Characters Typographic Services. In case you don’t know, type shops were businesses that consisted of craftspeople who knew how to make the printed word look glorious. We did work for all of the major New York ad agencies: Ammurati & Puris, Lois Pitts, J. Walter Thompson, Young & Rubicam, Ogilvy & Mather, to name a bunch. We did publications too, like Good Housekeeping and Country Living. We even set the type for U&lc, the prestigious typography publication designed and issued by the International Typeface Corporation to introduce and promote their fonts. I was a proofreader, quality controller and assistant foreman (the highest rank a woman could achieve in a blatantly sexist environment, but I loved my job and my dopey rogues’ gallery of co-workers).

Our work was of the highest quality and we did lots of it. I worked third shift (some industries call it “graveyard,” but we called it “lobster”). We had no client contact, just the clients’ layouts and manuscripts, with instructions from the service department which said “MUST BE PERFECT,” “DUE 9AM” and little else. I prided myself on deciphering client hieroglyphics, and got to learn each client’s “style” over time.

I worked in the age of “cold type” (as opposed to “hot metal”) where product was output on photographic paper (galley type, “repros” and “stats”) that was delivered to the clients to be cut up and pasted down on boards called “mechanicals.” Type was set on dedicated systems, where operators would input code defining the fonts, weights, line spacing, justification, tracking and kerning. The only way to view the result was in the output. That’s what made it so challenging. There was no graphic user interface, no “what you see is what you get” preview on screen, and definitely no spell-checking. Only the most skilled and dedicated people could generate beautiful work in this fashion. It was incumbent on the proofreaders to find and correct every typo, every imperfection, every wrong font, and to know what to query to the client if it followed their specification but seemed wrong. You didn’t want to insult them; just point them in the right direction. This meant the difference between the dreaded “PE” (printer’s error, which was on us) or the chargeable “AA” (author’s alteration, for which the client would grudgingly pay).

Around 1992, we started getting requests to set type in a program called Quark. The shop began acquiring new computers manufactured by Apple called “Macintosh.” Being a Mac owner myself, this transition was not a shock. Since 1984, I knew it was only a matter of time until these computers would become the platform for typesetting. I just couldn’t envision all of the consequences.

Being able to set type graphically, with a representation of what you were doing on screen, was a huge advantage. The fact that the typographic capabilities of the applications were greatly lacking compared to what a professional could achieve with a dedicated system did not deter businesses from procuring these systems.

So clients started sending in their work to us with specific instructions to execute the layouts in Quark. They wanted galleys (production-ready hard copy) AND the files we created. Stupidly, we complied.

The owners thought it was “a phase.” They’ll be back. They’ll never be able to do the job we do.

Even without formal training on the new systems, we cranked out some decent stuff with the new tools, because we knew how it was SUPPOSED to look. We’d send the files on disks along with the galley type. The clients had a starting point for learning how to create their own type from our files. They didn’t care that theirs didn’t look as good as ours. They had paid for the hardware and software. Whatever they derived from it was good enough.

And so began the end of an era. Layoffs came in waves (including my husband, who worked the graphic arts cameras and set headline hand-type on a machine called “Typositor”). Gradually, we went from a staff of about 150 people on three shifts to six employees left on third shift the night we closed. We continued to work through the night as red auction tags were affixed to the equipment and furniture. I dodged the toe tag, even as I went down on that sinking ship.

In time, I found my way to service bureaus and became familiar with four color process. I learned Quark, Illustrator and Photoshop. Color management, trapping, bleed, trim, safety, and screen angles all became part of my new world. Armed with this knowledge, I became a production manager for a private label clothing company (creating production art and work flow delivery systems for Faded Glory for Wal-mart and Route 66 at Kmart). When the work load became overwhelming, I brought in a friend to handle Wal-mart while I managed Kmart. Eventually, Kmart decided to bring Route 66 in-house. Can you say “abandon ship”? (This time, I was told to walk the plank).

By 1998, I found the cojones to go out on my own. I represented a software company, designed tags and labels, created a bridal industry marketing company with a partner, producing books and a web site. I freelanced at service bureaus and trained their people in desktop skills. I contracted with a chemicals manufacturer to re-design their web site, update their marketing materials, and design packaging for new products.

My hands-on knowledge was needed on the college level, too, so I became an adjunct professor at City Tech in Brooklyn. And I also taught professionals at the Association for Graphic Communications, earning their prestigious Instructor of the Year Award in 2001.

With everything I did, I learned and evolved. I watched businesses rise and fall. Always on the lookout for emerging technologies, I weeded out useful tools for myself and my clients.

One thing that became painfully obvious to me at the turn of the century was that no one had the patience to read anymore. The internet had not completely killed print, although the nature of the printing industry had been seriously impacted. Fewer players remained to do the work that will never completely go away, as long as products require packaging and medications legally require package inserts. Internet use created universal attention deficit disorder. If the desired link doesn’t materialize within seven seconds, we click off to the next thing. We need it now or we, hey, what did that animation just say?

Animation. Video. Yes, that’s it! Moving pictures. That’s the way to get into people’s heads before they even realize you’ve been there. Show, don’t tell. That’s the future.

So I found my dream program at NYU: a Master of Science in Digital Imaging and Design. After a 27 year educational hiatus, I was accepted to a prestigious program that would teach me to do video editing and motion graphics. In 2007, I earned my Masters degree.

I managed to continue servicing my clients while I was in school, but could not pursue new business. Shortly after I graduated, my chemical company client and I parted ways. Uncertain about my prospects for employment (especially when so many younger people are willing to work cheap and very long hours) I formed a production company with two partners. Our focus was creating health-related products based on the principles of an ancient Indian branch of medicine called ayurveda. One partner was an ayurvedic doctor, the other, a local friend of mine and acolyte of the doctor.

Putting all of my new-found knowledge to work was exciting. I recorded, edited and produced video, designed logos, artwork, packaging, and an educational DVD. I even used the process as a case-study for a new course I designed and taught for the Graphic Communications Masters program at NYU in crossmedia publishing. Everything was working. Until it wasn’t.

Without going into all the (graphic) details, the failure of the production company was imminent. I was doing all of the work, my partners were getting the glory. In fairness, the doctor was a good, understanding partner; the other dinghy had a serious leak. We agreed to cut our losses and scuttled that boat in 2008.

During the production company debacle, I had been contracted to help a printing company. I rebuilt an obsolete pre-press room and taught their technician how to use the appropriate tools. The environment reminded me of my type shop days. I became friendly with the pressmen. The company prospered. Our relationship continued and evolved.

In time, I was asked to help this company with their web site. I took a stab at some designs, but I could not find a way to indulge the GM’s personal aesthetic sense. I backed off and agreed to show the boss’s son how to do a few things in web authoring. I advocated for the use of HTML to build their site so as to aid search engine optimization.

Months later, they had a web site, designed in Flash. Could I help them put it up? Sure, but I told them I thought it was a bad idea. The GM wanted this particular design and no other. I created an HTML page with keywords they chose to deploy the site and made it live for them.

A year later, business stinks and they want to know why their web site isn’t getting hits. I re-explained the problems with Flash. I also suggested they add video to the site to help draw users in.

I tried to redesign their site in HTML, but there’s no way I know to get the HTML to look EXACTLY like the Flash version. I even handed off my files to another web designer to help get the site reworked. But the GM is a notorious micro-manager who finds fault in things that no one else sees. And because of this, an HTML version will probably never be deployed.

I conducted video shoots of the facilities. The GM was very excited about this idea, and followed me around with his still camera, ruining my shots with his flash and finding disappointment in his images, which revealed that there were imperfections in the machines and scuffs on the floors. He did like a lot of my footage, though, but he’s analyzing frames instead of viewing video. If he ever permits me, I’ll edit some of the footage and deploy it on a dedicated YouTube channel. But that’s a mighty big if.

Consider me the Coast Guard in the waters of small business. I warn of dangers, and try to pull folks out of harm’s way. I’ve witnessed too many sinking ships to allow another to go down if I can possibly help it.

This ship is surely surely taking on water, and despite my repeated calls of “ICEBERG DEAD AHEAD,” I can’t stop the captain from doing what he will do. I can only be heard if he is listening. Perhaps he’ll veer off before it’s too late. Meanwhile, I keep an eye on the horizon and keep my other beloved charges on course. Smooth sailing, folks. I’m here to help if you need me.

Each time I emerge from a cat nap, there’s news: the fight against SOPA/PIPA is raging as people wake up to the realization that their favorite channels of communication may soon evaporate if they don’t take action. Emails from my husband about the layoffs coming to his client’s organization (which will undoubtedly impact his firm). An established writer found my Caregiver blog and “liked” it.

I do have a webinar today: “Smash Through the Myths and Create Social Media Success!” Thank you Liz Lynch and Dabney Porte.

Maybe once upon a time, I’d have gotten more rest staying home, but I kind of like this ability to stay somewhat productive through my impairment.

Stop SOPA/PIPA. For today, that’s enough.

Practicing on an Olivetti portable typewriter, I never learned to trust my fingers. Through various “administrative assistant” jobs I held through my 20′s, I had learned “word processing.” Typing on a computer dedicated to creating text documents made sense to me. It was forgiving. Flexible. It enabled me to capture my thoughts and arrange them more carefully later.

In 1983, I became a typographic proofreader.* Ironically, once I got there, I no longer had access to word processing equipment. If I wanted to write anything, I was faced with analog tools: pen and paper, or worse, typewriter, correction fluid and lots of paper.

One fine day in 1984, I was passing by a shop window in a mall. I saw this cute machine inside. It was beige. It had a little gray screen, a beige keyboard and a beige block of a mouse. It was the first Macintosh.

The salesman showed me how it worked. He told me what it cost. He explained Apple Credit to me (10% down and 22% interest). $3000 with the ImageWriter dot matrix printer. My head was swimming.

I went home and couldn’t stop thinking about that little beige computer. The smiling start up screen. The selection of fonts that displayed on the screen as you typed. And when you printed, the output looked a whole lot like what you saw on your screen. Cut, copy, paste, delete. It all made so much sense to me. You could even “paint” on it! That little computer invaded my dreams. I had to have it.

I soon went back to the store, signed my life away to Apple Credit and brought that beige toaster home. I set it up and started the tutorials. I was late for work that night. I couldn’t wait to get home to learn more.

For ten years, I continued to use that computer. I even got to see the inside of the case with all the embossed signatures of its proud designers when I brought it in for service. Hey, when a computer has just one disk drive and runs everything off that one drive, it’s bound to fail occasionally. I can’t complain. Ten years of use from a computer is pretty remarkable. And I’m willing to bet if I pulled it out of its box and plugged it in it would start right up. I stopped using it when I got my Performa (with an actual hard drive, CD-ROM drive and a 14K modem) in 1994.

And so began my journey as a bona fide Mac Head and Apple evangelist. I always believed in Apple products, and loved using them in spite of the detractors. I laughed as the converts came to realize the value of devices that work; simply, beautifully, without viruses.

Thank you, Steve Jobs, for creating the computer that haunted my dreams, for building a company that makes the tools that enable my expression and ability to earn a living on my own terms. I will miss your audacity, your vision, and the excitement of your keynotes and product launches. There will never be another to replace you. But I’m glad we got to enjoy you for a while. Your legacy will be the inspiration and empowerment of generations to come.

*Typographers were craftspeople who enabled the creation of “galley type,” a practice that pre-dated desktop publishing. Type shops once abounded in New York. Beautiful, high quality work was created for the top agencies and their print and TV work.

However, when you do stuff gratis, YOUR WAY, your own vision, with no one to say NO, the outcome can be its own reward.

I belong to a band. My husband joined first and invited me. The band’s organizer, Doog, is an amazing guitar player with no computer skills. He’s also a really good guy. He set up a gig as a fund-raiser for Blue Star Mothers of America, an organization that supports troops stationed abroad. He chose country music as the genre because it’s popular up here in the North Pole of NJ.

We all gelled nicely and sounded pretty good quickly. We needed a name. I suggested “In Country,” because it’s a military term used by folks who are overseas (“I’m in country in Afghanistan”). Then I put together a logo.

Next, our peerless leader innocently asked if I knew anything about “free web sites.” I reflexively snarled “There is no such thing as a free web site.” I build them and they are WORK.

Later, I gave it some thought: what would we really need? Four pages: Home, About, Contact, Gigs. I could do that on WordPress, couldn’t I? Hmm. “incountryband.wordpress.com” was soon mine.

Next: photos. Did I have a digital camera? Well, duh. Sure. And Sunday was finally supposed to offer some sunshine. And there was an event scheduled up at Long Pond, a historic district nearby. Civil War re-enactors were going to be performing skirmishes and playing music. Cool!

So, on Sunday, we arrived at Long Pond, paid our admission and began schmoozing with the soldiers of the 6th New Hampshire Regiment. They were delighted to help us. I set up my tripod, lined up the shot and set the timer. We proceeded this way through the shoot and got some great shots.

The band with the 6th New Hampshire Regiment, Sunday, Oct, 2, 2011

Now I’d need some content. Back at Doog’s, I got everyone to give me some biographical info focusing on their musical experiences and got the details for the gig.

Once home, I got to work. There were several good images, and I had plans for the group shot with the soldiers. To have us stand out as the band, I thought I’d make the shot sepia-tinted and I’d silo us out so we’d be in color. Then I added the logo.

A new country rock band from Ringwood, NJ, artfully presented.

The results of my labors can now be viewed on In Country’s blog site. This serves multiple purposes: it promotes the band and a fund-raising event for a great cause. It also demonstrates my skill as creative director, photographer, retoucher, designer, writer and modern marketing maven. Take a look. Derive some inspiration. Maybe I can do something for you. Probably not pro bono, but well-designed, functional and reasonable for sure.

A screen shot of the new look

Finally, the shoemaker has new shoes. For years, I’ve felt like apologizing every time I referred anyone to my web site(s). My Graphic Detail site was designed at the turn of the last century (and really looked it). My TraceFX site was thrown together as I was completing my Masters program in 2007.

Well, it’s 2011 and we now have HTML5 and CSS3 as part of our arsenal and I have redesigned my “online brochure” using those tools. I didn’t go nuts, but I did want to achieve some neat effects without bogging down performance. Being an iPhone user, it was imperative that the site work well on the iOS platform. And most importantly, I wanted a site that communicates who I am, what I do and how I do it, so potential clients would feel compelled to have me do the same kinds of things for them.

Come on in. Take a look around. The TraceFX site will eventually be rolled into the Graphic Detail site. Elements from the old Graphic Detail site are still being referenced and you will see some of the old co-existing with the new. But web sites, like life, are a work in progress. I hope you’ll come visit and give me some feedback.