K-Pop Demon Hunters is far from skin-deep. Carl Jung’s observations and discussions around narcissistic versus empathic trails are prevalent at the very core of the story. Jungian shadow incorporation is also riddled throughout the narrative. Let’s take a deeper dive soon…stay tuned.
Growing Up In The 70s
When I turned 50, I found myself in a conundrum. After two years of waiting patiently, the judicial system cast me aside with zero financial assistance for my lifelong bipolar 1 (manic depressive disorder) mental illness. Instead of looking outward for answers, I looked within. I asked myself: “what gave me the most pleasure when I was a child?” The answers flooded in with minimal effort. In that moment I was sixteen again. Innocent, yet a wise, old soul born and bred in the 70s. I was born into a Wild West of imagination, intellect, and insight. A time when wandering, meandering around our neighborhoods on our BMX bikes and skateboards meant freedom.
Freedom from any system that was built to control us. During those formative years I knew deep down in my gut that God was always with me. Religion was an immediate turn off as it placed a mediator between myself and my creator. I saw them coming for me. The zealots wanted me to conform and bow to their version of an edited religion built on nothing more than control. In that moment I made a pact with myself that I, like Peter Pan, would choose to never grow up, give in, or give up. I would fight with my sword and trusty lamp at my side keeping my paths anything but straight and narrow. My mind was given time to develop and chase dreams.
Imagination defined my reality rather than the other way around. I studied hard, knew the rules. I began to flex and bend them while defying gravity itself. Grandad taught us well how to regulate our center. It’s a rather basic physics trick. He’d join a spoon and fork in a friendly handshake while balancing them with a simple toothpick on the edge of a drinking glass. What we perceived as magic became the foundation of our curious minds. Proof that anything is possible once we know the mechanics. Magic is not a trick. It’s an algorithm.
I learned how to use my wings. Floating down the hallways while everyone else slept. I felt the air resistance. It was an echo of force similar to swimming in the deep end of our neighborhood pool. Since then I awake each day with the same curious excitement. Every day feels like Christmas morning full of awesome discoveries. My life has become one effortless awakening after another. In what amounted to three and a half years, I discovered all of my deepest secrets. Secrets that up until now I was afraid to share. I see things that others don’t. I know things that I was never taught. My spirit has never shined as bright as it does now. When I was 50 I doubled down and bet it all on myself.
I pitched three options to my parents in order to fully develop action plans for my life. The first two included gaining financial assistance from outside sources while the third laid out how I’d face it all on my own. Before I shared them with my family, I had already made my decision. Door number three. I invested fully in developing and unlocking my inner knowing, imagination, intuition, and predictive spontaneity. I am free, and gradually, intentionally I will share with those who might find solace in understanding their own worth.
Imagination defined my reality rather than the other way around. I studied hard, knew the rules. I began to flex and bend them while defying gravity itself. Grandad taught us well how to regulate our center. It’s a rather basic physics trick. He’d join a spoon and fork in a friendly handshake while balancing them with a simple toothpick on the edge of a drinking glass. What we perceived as magic became the foundation of our curious minds. Proof that anything is possible once we know the mechanics. Magic is not a trick. It’s an algorithm.
Through half a century of trials I discovered my truth. Never grow up. Don’t follow someone else’s dreams for my lives. I say lives because at any point we have the ability to innately change anything, even everything. I chose to go off-map and chart new regions of discovery. I follow what is unseen to many, to most. The answers aren’t out there, up there or even down there. They’re inside each of us. All we need to do is request access. I’ve said that many times, and it still rings true. What may appear as witchcraft or alchemy to some, I’ve unlocked my innermost mysteries defining what it means to be a devilishly angelic spirit living within a terrestrial experience.
& {autonomous neural dilation} issue #1 covers preview
What exactly is “&” (A.N.D.), Autonomous Neural Dilation? Just some sort of mumbo jumbo I made up. The phrase materialized in my head before I ever researched what it might mean. It’s another effortless discovery I decided to chase down for a bit. Firstly, I’ll be the first to admit that it spawned within my imagination. Next, I aligned it with my intuition. Then I carefully unearthed the root words discovering their intentional truths. Quite simply, it’s the self-governing, deeply focused meditative state we exhibit when we’re laser-focused “in the zone.” This translates as the most polar opposite of the daily distractions meant to dumb us all down into checked out zombie phantom states drowning in frenetic anxiety.
Another symptom for another pill. Yet one more form of keeping us submissive, ignorant, and most of all, quiet. Always asleep allowing the dark forces full sway of public opinion’s falsehoods. This quieting of the mind appears at first as the solution, a powerful elixir, but in reality it’s just a placebo. A false sense of security caught in the midst of the true zombie apocalypse. A society built upon the long dead caste system where we’re just battered bricks holding up a swaying tower of Pisa. A weakened, crumbling foundation off-kilter. Belief that their mortar keeps us connected when in reality it only supports the control system itself. They keep watchful eyes on us until someone rocks the boat, off-kilter.
When the rotting mortar cracks, the cycle rapidly repeats until we’re back under its spell. Spelling remains to this day, and we’re fully unaware of its direct relation to our submissive gaze. It was cast down upon us and throughout our withering family trees. We’re plainly taught and reinforced by our parents, teachers, and peers that none of us will remember our childhood. This concept cannot be further from the truth. Truth be told, I remember everything going all the way back to the rhythmic cosmic comforts I experienced for eight months before my premature arrival. I’ve asked my parents many times about these particular memories. They gently remind me that I already know.
Usually they just brush it off and tell me it’s a shadow, an echo of something I’ve already experienced but forgot all about. Yet I know things. Know them in the innate sense. These sensitivities gently poke at and haunt my consciousness, while both asleep and awake. I am blessed with a deeply imaginative mind. If I intentionally tie a feeling or emotion to an event or happening I will remember every detail, even the ones everyone else within my vicinity ignores completely. I’ve been navigating these microcosms of my own Akashic Records since I began writing stories when I was six years old aptly titled “Stories That Come Alive.” A living narrative understanding everything is consciously aware.
There are no greater falsehoods than mankind’s beliefs that they’re the self-endowed pinnacle of the food chain and have full dominion over every creature. These illusions are providing delusional comforts for their own selfish, greedy, gluttonous intentions. When the power grid fails, all of our bubbles will immediately burst simultaneously. I realized I needed to prepare for what’s coming. Time for a reimagining of my life. When I turned fifty, four years ago, I knew it was time to do something different. It was time to question everything and settle for nothing. I looked at myself in the mirror one last time and reached an aha moment. I gave myself a wink and a brief smirk. My time had finally come.
Time for my own second coming. Heck, it’s even in my name. So what did I realize that shook myself to the core? Where to begin? So I asked myself what gave me the most joy when I was a child. I was a collector, an artist, a detective, magician and card trick dealer, a puzzle and gravity breaker, a creative writer, a math lover, patterns and numbers seer, dream believer, and riddles solver. There were the answers. Simple. Powerful. I’ve unlocked the treasures hidden within my own historical frameworks written all over my DNA in every language across all of the primary, secondary, and tertiary pantheons. Humans are now the most spiritually bankrupt beings living in this earthbound plane. Not always so.
Human’s delusions of grandeur regarding religion is downright criminal. Active. Deceitful. Control. You see, I’ve known my own creator since before I arrived. My inner knowing has always been tuned into the divine spark within all of us. Don’t worry, it only takes a moment to reshape your vibrational frequencies to that of the angelic beings that so many people desperately hide from because they’re terrified what it might mean. Just imagine being so immersed in the control system that you cannot live without it. If and when the time comes when we all need to go back to basics like farming, hunting, and living off the land, I wouldn’t place any bets on mankind’s survival for long. We’ve got work to do.
We’d simply collapse the moment the power grid goes out. So it’s time to get back “in the zone” and get laser-focused on higher levels of consciousness. Take a moment to turn off all notifications and distractions. Allow your mind to take on a cognitive load of significant performance. Seek and discover your next aha moment. No wait, stop looking altogether. You might just surprise yourself. It’s in moments of deep focus where clarity shines the light and exposes truths hidden just below the surface of reality. Once you understand that it’s not about finding anything at all, your eyes will stop deceiving you. In this state you can trust them. Not physical eyes, inner knowing. Eyes of the soul.
Free Guy
Questioning everything begins with the little things that eventually take shape into the greatest of all things. Even reality itself. At least the version we were sold out for. Every day is the best day to try something new. Don’t wait. Be Different. “Think Different” (Apple). Climb up your professor’s desk and take a fresh look from a new perspective just as Robin Williams welcomed his students to do one morning in Dead Poets Society, 1989.
BARISTA “Medium coffee, cream, two sugars. Medium coffee, cream, two sugars.”
GUY “Actually, I think I’d like to try a cappuccino today.”
GUY “Ooh. ‘Cappuccino.’ I enjoy saying that. It’s like a waterfall made of letters.”
BARISTA “Excuse me?”
GUY “I’d like to try a cappuccino. Please.”
BARISTA “But you get a medium coffee, cream, two sugars. That’s what you get. That’s what everyone gets. Every day. Always.”
Happy 54th
I turned 54 today. I found this photo in an old mini album. My stoic gaze reveals my excitement for the game. Since I was very young my compass always faced due-South. I know the more common phrase is due-North, but let me explain. The South is associated with the imagination in regards to metaphysical stream of consciousness. Going southwards in prose and poetry is directly tied to going off-script into the depths of the imagination. That’s where I always felt safe in solitude, not to be confused as loneliness. The truth is that we are never alone, even when we cannot see others nearby. We are connected at the cosmic-code level. Innate. I made a crucial decision when I was in high school to drop football so I could continue piloting southwards.
When I was sixteen I made a decision that continued shaping my life as a passionate artist and designer. I finished my freshman C-Team football season with what I’d describe as lackluster. My Dad lettered in four sports in high school so my playing football was really for him, not me. Once we reached the halfway point of our sophomore high school football schedule I faced a conundrum. I approached my coach after practice informing him I’d rather be in the art studio. He obliged. From that day forward I spent my afternoons creating rather than trying to discover my killer instinct on the field. It’s pretty obvious in the photo that playing team sports was never really my thing. I’ve always preferred solo sports like body surfing and rollerblading.
The best decisions I’ve ever made were making my case to follow my passions for the arts. One afternoon after football practice sophomore year I told my coach I’d much rather be in the art studio. He obliged. Since childhood I was clearly a creator-type. I was primarily self-taught with some guidance from my Mom and art teachers. I loved drawing, painting, prose, poetry, and performing magic tricks. In first grade my favorite journal was titled “Stories That Come Alive.” When I was 12 I started selling watercolors. When I was 16 I acquired my first commercial client, Jerry Barber, inventor of the Free Fall™ amusement park ride.
Dream Beyond Your Dreams
Remembering Martin Luther King Junior today, January 19, 2026. Today is also my 54th birthday. Back in middle school I entered and won our county Black History Month competition. Beyond the recognition, the $100 prize was quite an accomplishment for my middle-schooler self. I painted a wide mural of the greats who brought change and reform to the oppressed community. I rendered Martin Luther King Junior giving his enigmatic speech, Abraham Lincoln, Malcom X, and other civil rights leaders in graphite, cross-hatching, and airbrush. The mural remained in my parents’ basement for decades. When they moved a few years ago I finally laid it to rest. Please enjoy these messages from Rabbi Simon Jacobson. He’s my daily spiritual go to, a wise soul full of love and kindness with whom he spreads across borders, boundaries. Love.
“This is not just a nice hobby, extracurricular activity, but is the essence of who we are and what we should be accomplishing in this world. And there’s no doubt that this dream will be fulfilled, and we’re closer than ever. especially with technology today that can be a force that separates us and divides us, but it can also be a force that unites us.”
“May it be so. So dream, and dream beyond your dreams. Imagine beyond your imagination. A new reality is upon us, but it’s up to us to do our part, and the unfolding drama of the vision, the cosmic vision. The dream.” — Rabbi Simon Jacobson, The Meaningful Life Center
Happy Birthday Twin Saint Dolly
I’ve been listening to Dolly Parton for as far back as I can remember. My love for her angelic, twangy voice started out listening to 8Track tapes of Dolly and Kenny Rogers singing “Islands in the Stream” on six and a half-hour road trips to and from visiting our grands in the seventies. The film 9 to 5 pitting Dolly, Lily Tomlin, and Jane Fonda against their evil boss played by Dabney Coleman will always remain a comedy classic. Watch out for that “Skinny and Sweet” ya’ll. My sister sent us this recent video Dolly posted three days ago. We need more of this right now! Take it away gals…
P.S. Happy Birthday Twin…love, David
Hello Love
Going through Hell lately? Stop. Breathe. Appreciate stillness. Quiet your mind so you can feel the depth in your heart. Celebrate your own solitude. Remember we are never alone. Keep moving or you’ll not only get burned, you’ll be consumed by someone else’s definition of who you are today, and who you’ll be tomorrow. Never give in. Never give up. Consistent persistence is key. Spark your inner phoenix and fly. Love is waiting for you.
Access Granted
Have you ever found yourself wanting more? Being more? How about becoming unstoppable? All we have to do is request access. But be ready. Activated intuition, imagination, intellect, and predictive spontaneity are not to be taken lightly. Once they’re unlocked there’s nothing that we can’t do. Everything is not only possible, it’s inevitable. We must remain calm and quiet, breathing in rhythmic tones. As we continue ushering in the next Renaissance that began just three years ago, we know what’s coming. The truth is that it never left. It’s been inside of us hibernating, waiting.
Three years ago I asked God for blatant signs that I was on the right path. He answered me immediately the following morning. I didn’t just begin to see. I saw through the veils of everything simultaneously. From that day forward I sought out these daily synchronicities discovering them all around me. Then a month later God told me to stop looking. N that moment I adhered to his guidance. He showed me that in order to fully realize our sights we must allow them to show up by their own understanding. Now the less I look, the more I see. My inner divine spark guides my way.
I wasn’t blinded by the light of discovery. I had been bound for half a century seeking light through my shadow. Eventually I decided it was time to incorporate both my Jekyll and Hyde into my wise-minded heart center. I now understand that there is no difference between enlightenment and madness. They are one and the same. One cannot exist without the other. They’re intertwined in such a fundamental way. Then why is our standard perception of them rooted in separation, not a unified system of easily referenced checks and balances? A self-soothing system draped in divinity.
Fully enlightened from sacrum to skull. Another question…why are we kept within a confined system? Why not introduce advanced concepts to us beginning in preschool? The current K-12 system is based on averages. Who wants to be average? Why are these systems so hell-bent on keeping us docile and quiet? Control.
My thoughts are my own, and so are my lab experiments I perform on myself. Through my childlike curiosity I’ve discovered my own super powers. Before I ever fact checked my findings I spent years swimming the currents of our collective consciousness. Bodily sensations clued me into what the masses considered fringe. I’ve debunked so many false claims against our true nature by listening to my inner dialogue. Not a mere monologue, an everlasting, collective awakening burning brightly.
While the spiritual forces in the heavenly realms guide me, the dark forces attempt to take me out of the game. When they show up I look through their transparent, hollow tones. I have the gift of being able to read others. I can also read their thoughts no matter the distance. I know how to naturally tune my bodily fluids pairing them with the highest vibrational energies. Once I began to see these connections I couldn’t undo or Command+Z them back into blinded oblivion. Awakened fully.
I’m here now. I’m also there and everywhere. I am a being fueled by the light of discovery. The intense, intentional mode of creation. Long before I ever did any research I chose to look within, and I found everything waiting for me to give it all a breath. I forged into existence my inner powers tied directly to endless streams of consciousness. Christ consciousness. Not the deity nor the son. A mindset open to any and all, and never reserved for a chosen few. We’ve had it backwards all along.
I noticed a trend on my YouTube account. Suggestions are flooding in that I watch Carl Jung, Edgar Cayce, Roger Penrose, among others. While I never searched for them myself, it appears that my private Notes on my iPhone are being tapped. It’s a sort of reversed algorithm. I have a thought, sometimes I ask Siri to write it down. I leave freeform theories and random thoughts swimming around the deep end until they slowly sink into the depths of my unconscious mind. There they dissolve.
Somehow even my most secretive conclusions as to the nature of things is nudging me from the lands of Google. Here’s the good news. There is no Marvel-ized multiverse of endless variations of the self across infinitely-inspired spacetime. Surely that delusion would be reserved as the ultimate goal for the ill-enlightened and rampant narcissist. Rather, there are endless variations of God experienced through all of us simultaneously. Multiples serving the full entirety of consciousness.
Joshua 1:9 “The Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” How can God be everywhere all at once? It’s quite simple really. Because he lives within everyone, every creature, everything. It’s not a spooky god or ghoul. I’m not talking religion or fringe theories. He is I and I am him. We are forever connected, even those who choose no god at all. Our connection can never be severed. There’s no private club to join “where everyone gets together once a week to compare clothing.” — G. Carlin
Christ consciousness is not a movement. It’s an inner knowing of understanding that we’re never alone. Mindfulness is godliness. We must realize our divine spark if we’re ever to ascend higher than before. Thirty-six hours passed in a flash of manic ecstasy. My mind fully awakened. I was unraveling the very cosmic architecture of the mysteries within the collective consciousness. The highest vibrational love energy is Christ consciousness. Where did these thoughts reside?
I did not learn this from anyone else. It was gifted to me by my own divine understanding that is written all over and inside the structural frequencies of my DNA. Now to the poachers, the data brokers. It’s clear that everything I write about is being fed into algorithms on YouTube. I’ve never searched for anything relating to my spiritual and inner divine nature of Christ consciousness. My writings, in the form of iOS Notes that I haven’t shared publicly, are being scraped from my iCloud account.
Three years ago when I wrote a brief dialogue regarding the connectedness of everything, I immediately began getting targeted suggestions from the void. They arrived as suggestive socials recommending I friend my private psychiatrist, an obvious HIPAA violation. Something has been positioning itself to discredit my personal theories and conclusions. They attempt to realign my original ideas with others’ thoughts. I can fully attest that they are my own. Never borrowed.
As I’ve said plenty of times in the past, I freely associate metaphysical stream of consciousness. A meditative soul state writing style. While I do eventually fact check my own thoughts against those of folks like Roger Penrose and Carl Jung, I do not research their thoughts first and then pass them off as my own. If you’ve been paying attention, you know me and understand the conundrum as do I. In order to place false witness upon me, they’re spinning their own narrative fueled by my own findings.
Something strange has been going on for about three years now. On many a hunch I’ve been unraveling what it means to have faith. Through my own self discoveries I’m unlocking doors that were never meant to be opened again and surely not by me. What’s strange? Videos appear on YouTube after I’ve had a particular thought. The complete opposite of how the algorithm works. Thoughts not always written down. Someone or something is reading my thoughts, my innermost guarded secrets.
I’m not paranoid, anxious or worried in any way. All I’m trying to say is something is attempting to connect my thoughts with proven theories posed by the likes of Edgar Cayce. Somehow, I know things that I have no memory of ever learning, not in school and not at any point in my life otherwise. I just know things. After these thought materialize in my mind they appear in my YouTube feed seconds later. It feels like a set up. I believe someone plans to debunk every thought I’ve ever experienced.
My original thoughts materialized before I did any detective work linking them to any others’ research or opinions. It’s as if I’m writing a story before I’ve even met the characters. I understand them in profound ways that cannot be explained rationally. I know the end before I even get a chance to pick up the book. Inner knowing free of control by any man-made system. A free truth channel somehow manifesting behind my eyes. When I read Carl Jung’s theories it’s as if I wrote them myself.
Nothing that has been revealed to me feels like any sort of new knowledge. My memories already held the theories and explanations within my DNA. Some say our double helix architecture is built on endless foundations of cyclical overlapping timelines. I asked myself right now, tonight, how do I know things? Just clearly know things. Never taught. But remembered. There’s so much more to the concept of multiverse. We are the multiverse. An ultimate expression of the empath.
Billions of individual perspectives simultaneously experiencing all things all at once. We are God. We are the one and only consciousness. The Alpha and Omega. We are now awakening to a new form of thoughtful consciousness. Christ consciousness. God knows itself through all of us. Creation exists within God’s being. We are God’s boot camp soldiers. I have a personal relationship with God, as did Cayce. I knew this from the moment I breathed my first breath. Possibly even before I was born.
We are a sea of endless consciousness ebbing and flowing within the tides of the dark and light. Both must exist. Without one would mean without the other. We must not only level up our inner light brighter, we must also experience our dark into its deepest depths. Character may be found there amongst the healing wreckage. Suffering’s purpose is to gain wisdom through understanding that mistakes will be made. We must forget everything we were falsely taught so that we can remember.
We must remember that we don’t ever truly forget. Evil exists where we have detached ourselves from spirit. Evil is a byproduct of free will according to Edgar Cayce. God desired to experience itself through an endless sea of self reflections. God knows us through us. I call it God’s multiverse design that had nothing to do with quantum mechanics. Even mathematics and science can’t explain away the how’s and why’s of the spirit. Both heaven and hell are manmade prisons experienced here.
There are no free upgrades after death. According to Cayce every wave eventually remembers. Manmade damnations exist in control systems. Why do so many teenagers get labeled with major depression and mania when they first go off to college? That pivotal life moment when they first leave the cocoon’s safety. They’re violently ripped away from the protection of K-12. Some don’t make it while others lean heavily into their chance to finally start awakening to who they really are. Discovery.
I lived under the false protection of antiquated social structures for eighteen years. I was guided by parents who were told to remain stoic and brush anything uncomfortable under the rug. The real question is why is there no built-in plan within the education system to mentally prepare us for this significant life change? Let me bend your ear. If you stick with me, I’ll show you how to wiggle both of them and even your tail unlocking psychic resonance that electrifies our cerebrospinal fluid.
Fully enlightened from sacrum to skull. Another question…why are we kept within a confined system? Why not introduce advanced concepts to us beginning in preschool? The current education system is based on averages. Who wants to be average? Why are these systems so hell-bent on keeping us docile and quiet? Control. Archaic systems of mind-controlling the masses that never clue us in that we’re all fully capable of super powers without ever reading our instruction manuals. Flow state.
GMOA’s Bland Rebrand
A new year and another vanilla rebrand. I recently discovered the new Georgia Museum of Art’s logo rebrand. It’s not the first, nor will it be the last, of aging firms like Pentagram pumping out bland content instead of design innovation. No matter how they want to spin it in public relations and press releases it’s clear that whoever on P’s team that approved this for consumption wasn’t used to paying close attention to the details. The rebrand immediately introduces a confusing setup; a sin against the whole concept of graphic design branding and communication.
Let’s take a look. Which one is the official logo on the GMOA website? Is it the one tucked into the top left corner or is it the less rigid version near the bottom of the page? While I prefer the latter, it still has it’s issues. The gap between OF and ART is wider than the Grand Canyon. ART feels misplaced. Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t an attack on P or my utter disgust for another soulless “refresh.” The real insult on display is that P trashed the entire lineage of the GMOA identity. Now all I see is mediocrity with no sense of design or clear brand spirit. Just content.
Which version do you prefer? I guess no one could decide so they included both. I have a feeling Paula Scher had nothing to do with this rebrand. If she did, she needs to get her eyes checked. If GMOA really wanted to make a splash they could have easily tapped into their own local resources at University of Georgia. I would have treated this as a student and professor competition so the rebrand’s story would hold weight and gravitas. I wonder how Professor Arnholm feels about it? The entire GMOA and UGA websites feel cold, distant, and sloppy. Truth.
I’m not here to make friends. UGA Graphic Design taught me how to see. Don’t blame me for pointing out inconsistencies and confusion that would have been easily remedied in a typical student/professor critique. Who are we designing for? I agree in seeking solutions that appeal to everyone, including those with visual impairments. However, must it be delivered in such a cold, shallow form? I don’t blame anyone at GMOA. They were guided by one of the most prolific design firms in the country, Pentagram. Do better, P, if your designers still have a soul. Ouch.
No more gold stars for Pentagram, self-proclaimed as “the world’s largest independent design consultancy.” Here they go again delivering another uncomfortable, custom font approach abandoning every ounce of rich history for Georgia’s state museum. The optical spacing is inconsistent. The S has a wider bottom half that feels like a mistake. The rounded interior of the R doesn’t match the other letterforms. The A and M would work better if the top of their interiors didn’t come to a sharp point. The U is wider than the R. The Grand Canyon-wide gap between OF and ART is the most offensive folly. That’s my $2 UGA design veteran critique.
Now let’s consider a wiser, more elegant and intentional approach giving full attention to GMOA’s vast history and its future aspirations. This solution is almost too obvious to comprehend. Why didn’t UGA’s graphic design professors and students enter their own designs in what could have been an exciting competition between the new guard and the old. An epic exercise proving itself as a grand gesture for reinvention. It would also provide an excellent public relations opportunity by highlighting the students’ and professors’ talents for their contributions to the cause. This further places the spotlight on the artists, GMOA’s core competency.
Final thoughts: even the most bloated, planetwide, solo design firm doesn’t mean better, and bland is boring.
G M O A M I D - 1 9 9 0 s – 2 0 0 0 s B R A N D I N G ( A B O V E ) A N D G M O A 2 0 2 6 ( B E L O W )
The letterform anatomy gives off construction company or ESPN college sports graphics vibes. This solution misses the mark entirely by not paying proper respect to this iconic museum. Georgia Museum of Art’s visual design language is now hollow. Not even a mere shadow of its former self. A classier, less sterile approach utilizing a font family with a wide range of weights, styles, and glyphs such as Centaur MT or Mrs. Eaves are far more appropriate giving weight to GMOA’s history. UGA Professor Ronald Arnholm’s Legacy might be even more appropriate with its wide array of serif, sans serif, square serif, and genuine small caps. Erik Spiekerman’s Neue Serie57 is also an excellent contender. I’d also try Helvetica and Futura.
Georgia Museum of Art’s new LinkedIn GO logo is literally a G and a narrowed STOP sign. Was anyone clever enough to think this type of irony was targeted branding? Pentagram loves sharply notched letterform exteriors with awkwardly softened interior curves.
Across the span of nineteen years, my dear friends and colleagues at Georgia Museum of Art and I celebrated many victories. Every year when the Southeastern Museums Conference arrived, so did our shared accolades. We were also blessed with many other acknowledgments. Our relationship began when I was an intern during my first year at University of Georgia’s Graphic Design program in the mid-90s. I’ve always been a believer that variety is the spice of life. Rather than vanilla-fy every hard and soft cover text, poster, banner, mailer, and checklist, I always delivered branding that represented the artists on display. I never took cheap shots by incorporating my own design baggage. Each design was an extension of the artist.
By combining sans and sans-serif typography, each piece was an original expression giving full credit to the artist through the juxtaposition of shapes invoking musical notes of tone and accord. Above and below are just a small handful of these such works. Through the careful use of depth, design, color, form, and function, each piece whispers in its own language. A museum is not an institution, not a hospital or generic courtroom. Museums are where we share love. Every now and then something endearing plucks our heart strings with a rhythmic resonance. I am so fortunate to have been part of GMOA’s legacy working alongside Bonnie Ramsey, William Eiland, Jennifer DePrima, and others that never felt like work. Only pure joy.
( 2 0 1 6 – 2 0 2 4 )
( 2 0 2 4 – C U R R E N T )
I was watching a DC film recently and saw the above left logo for the first time. It felt clumsy and imbalanced from DC not being centered. Almost, but no cigar, so it comes across as a mistake. The uncomfortable angle introduced on the top right of the C letterform doesn’t do it any favors either. Let’s just say it wasn’t much of a surprise when I learned it was designed by Pentagram. Luckily the DC badge on the right was brought back from the one that reigned for nearly thirty years from 1976–2005. The subtle blue gradient doesn’t really make any sense, but I’ll let that slide. Bravo Warner Bros.
Beyond the Gate
Cheers to another year of activated intuition, imagination, intellect, and predictive spontaneity! Sometimes intuition is staring us directly in the face. Don’t fret. These aren’t the gates of Hell. They’re an exit into the world of the wild, the unexpected. Be brave, dear adventurer. Your quest awaits. May the light of dawn to dusk guide your way. When you find yourself immersed in darkness remember your inner, divine spark kindling within.
Subtle color correction, but otherwise unaltered in any way. A natural Eleven : Eleven tribute that’s been staring at me for two years every time I visit Mom and Dad. It’s funny how things hide in plain sight.