"I'm glad graphic design lingers,

even when I do not."

"I'm glad graphic design lingers,

even when I do not."

A smile hit my face and my mood spontaneously lifted when I recognized an ad I'd made a year ago. It had been slightly revamped to serve as a poster for this year's event. There I was, in however small a way, still involved in my community.

Graphic Design often has a short shelf-life. I once thought the world had ended when I made a mistake on a large product-line of stickers that was shipped to a national chain of craft stores. The craft store surprised me by not being at-all concerned about it. They would fix it on their next order. I left a paragraph off of a print project once, nobody ever noticed… I think.

And then there is the graphic design that lingers. Milk cartons. Candy bars. The letters on the mountains around Utah (Payson, are you really sure you want that half hearted "P" up there representing your community?). Tattoos, yeah that graphic design lingers. And annual event branding that finds its way back to our eyes year-after-year.

I may have not shown my face around town for a few months, but I'm glad that my work lingers. I DID end up reading that edition of the Park Record, and I did find more lingering graphic design from the computer screen and mind of Lisa Powell. Though I hope never to design someone's tattoo, I'm glad there is graphic design that lingers, even when I do not.

Lisa Powell

I was feeling like a "has been" today. Mountain Man and I went to a hotel for lunch where people knew me from connections with Mountain Man. We also went to a bank where he is established and I am just getting started. I began trying to remind myself that I'm self-employed, not unemployed. On top of that I was feeling the pressure of all the things I SHOULD be doing in front of a computer screen instead of spending a very pleasant morning in Park City. A month feels like a long time to be away from one's community and having left my old job before that month, I felt out of place.

A little down, I wandered into the Starbucks while Mountain Man got a hair cut. I placed my order (it may have involved pumpkin spice). I looked down at The Park Record for sale next to the cash register and thought, "Do I want one of those?"

I decided no, my work wasn't in there anymore and I would just miss my old friends and coworkers with every page turn. I'd feel even more disconnected from this community, my community. So I stood to the side to wait for my drink. Bored, I glanced up at the Starbucks bulletin board.

A weekday back in Park City, Utah