By the pricking of my thumbs, this Ray of joy, to death succumbs. Sorry, I couldn't resist that.
One of my favourite authors, Ray Bradbury, died last week. I feel I should include some clever quotation here because he left so many of them. However, none of them could recall for me the quiet, lyrical, internal voice I always heard, even when reading his darkest passages. Instead I think there is something of that voice in a poem by W.B.Yeats that Bradbury most certainly knew: "The Song of Wandering Aengus".
In my mind these last few lines belong more to Bradbury now, than to Yeats:
And walk through long green dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
This is a first rough of a character for a new series of illustrations I'm working on. read more here!
Typefaces, especially in headers and logos, have an impact on the viewer. Subliminal or explicit, they leave an impression, so it's important to take control of what you promote through them. read more here!