Trip Report, Much Delayed
7/11/08 16:12![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madrobinsI meant to get to this before, but life, Halloween, job searches, etc., interfered. So here it is. This is "The Old Stone Store," formerly a small market (Kersey's Market, I think). It is now owned by the Sheffield Historical Society, and it's where they mounted the show of my father's dimensional paper sculptures and other artwork. Note the banner advertising the show.
IMG_2791_1
These are a few of the paper sculptures. Dad designed one (at least) every year, to be used as a holiday card/'advertisement for his design practice. Each year had a different theme, and each year had its own design challenges. Of course, I didn't understand any of this when I was a kid and several weekends a year were given over to helping punch out the pieces of each car from the die-cut sheet, and then assemble them. Some of the cards had ten or fifteen pieces per card; others (like this one) only had two or three. I think we assembled something on the order of 1200 every year.
The butterfly card in the middle is two large pieces with smaller "butterfly wings" slotted in in different places. The two cards flanking it are each one piece, punched, scored and slotted to make a four-sided teardrop shape. I like the red and purple one particularly.
Many of the cards stood on their own bases but some (like the ones in the back) could be hung. We knew people who kept the cards every year and used them as Christmas tree ornaments.
Dad loved to do birds--one of these cards became the basis for the sign for a church in Canaan, CT-- but he also did things like whales and balloons and, when Sarcasm Girl was born, a Madonna and Child.
Lots of trees, too. The one in the right foreground had all the seasons of the year, depending on which face you opened it to. The one on the left was a Christmas card for a tree conservation company, and I think there's something distinctly Christmas-tree looking in the back there.
Dad did corporate logos, advertisements, corporate design programs, package design (I forgot to snap photos of the Colorforms boxes for which my brother and I were models). I particularly love the sell line on this one, from just after the War:
The Girl with a Job
Is the Girl of Today
The Glamor Girl was Yesterday's
So very cool.
Right after WW II Dad went out to LA to work for David Selznick (no really!). He designed titles, ads, and promotional materials. Here's a promo for what was then called "The Past of Mrs. Paradine," but was released as "The Paradine Case." Somewhere in one of my drawers I have an ancient gold and silver silk shawl which was used in "The Portrait of Jenny," which Dad liberated to give to my mother, and eventually made its way to me.
When WW II began, Dad joined up and was trained as an Air Force gunner. (He's got fascinating stories about his flight training.) Before they could use him for bellicose purposes, however, he was assigned to help with communication design for the newest branch of the armed forces, and wound up establishing the design for Air Force Magazine. For this issue, which came out after the war was over, they needed someone to look like a forward-looking, vaguely aspirational veteran. So there's Dad, with the want ads clutched in his arm, looking into the future.
Which held me and my brother, a Barn, and many other things.
There were many many other things I either didn't get good shots of or didn't want to post here--only because there's only so much of someone else's context any sane person is going to want to be steeped in.
That's my Dad's work. Or some of it. Throughout the reception for the show Dad sat downstairs holding court while people milled around him telling him how swell it was. Not a bad afternoon for a 95-year-old, I think.
IMG_2791_1
These are a few of the paper sculptures. Dad designed one (at least) every year, to be used as a holiday card/'advertisement for his design practice. Each year had a different theme, and each year had its own design challenges. Of course, I didn't understand any of this when I was a kid and several weekends a year were given over to helping punch out the pieces of each car from the die-cut sheet, and then assemble them. Some of the cards had ten or fifteen pieces per card; others (like this one) only had two or three. I think we assembled something on the order of 1200 every year.
The butterfly card in the middle is two large pieces with smaller "butterfly wings" slotted in in different places. The two cards flanking it are each one piece, punched, scored and slotted to make a four-sided teardrop shape. I like the red and purple one particularly.
Many of the cards stood on their own bases but some (like the ones in the back) could be hung. We knew people who kept the cards every year and used them as Christmas tree ornaments.
Dad loved to do birds--one of these cards became the basis for the sign for a church in Canaan, CT-- but he also did things like whales and balloons and, when Sarcasm Girl was born, a Madonna and Child.
Lots of trees, too. The one in the right foreground had all the seasons of the year, depending on which face you opened it to. The one on the left was a Christmas card for a tree conservation company, and I think there's something distinctly Christmas-tree looking in the back there.
Dad did corporate logos, advertisements, corporate design programs, package design (I forgot to snap photos of the Colorforms boxes for which my brother and I were models). I particularly love the sell line on this one, from just after the War:
The Girl with a Job
Is the Girl of Today
The Glamor Girl was Yesterday's
So very cool.
Right after WW II Dad went out to LA to work for David Selznick (no really!). He designed titles, ads, and promotional materials. Here's a promo for what was then called "The Past of Mrs. Paradine," but was released as "The Paradine Case." Somewhere in one of my drawers I have an ancient gold and silver silk shawl which was used in "The Portrait of Jenny," which Dad liberated to give to my mother, and eventually made its way to me.
When WW II began, Dad joined up and was trained as an Air Force gunner. (He's got fascinating stories about his flight training.) Before they could use him for bellicose purposes, however, he was assigned to help with communication design for the newest branch of the armed forces, and wound up establishing the design for Air Force Magazine. For this issue, which came out after the war was over, they needed someone to look like a forward-looking, vaguely aspirational veteran. So there's Dad, with the want ads clutched in his arm, looking into the future.
Which held me and my brother, a Barn, and many other things.
There were many many other things I either didn't get good shots of or didn't want to post here--only because there's only so much of someone else's context any sane person is going to want to be steeped in.
That's my Dad's work. Or some of it. Throughout the reception for the show Dad sat downstairs holding court while people milled around him telling him how swell it was. Not a bad afternoon for a 95-year-old, I think.