Creativity runs in my family, though not always as obviously expressed as through a career in art and design. I can recall countless projects undertaken by my parents, my mom’s strength being idea generation and my dad’s being execution. I dig the way my parents design their house, yards and living spaces; always warm, creative, modern and comfortable.

Oftentimes these projects would be built from scratch or from something salvageable from an antique store or garage sale. It wasn’t that they couldn’t afford to buy brand spanking new materials. They loved giving these discarded objects a new lease on life beyond what you could purchase new off a store shelf. When I take on projects like repairing and improving a broken iPod, I believe I have them to blame thank.

Growing up, I was a daydreamer. To this day I have a terrible sense of direction, partially because I was never really aware of the world outside the car window. I was too busy conjuring images of ninjas, aliens, robots, superheros and dinosaurs to pay attention to things like intersections and traffic. Similarly I was never fully cognizant of what my parents were looking for in any particular antique store, so much as I was engrossed in the task of finding comic books.

One flea market in particular held many such treasures. It was where I found my second issue of Groo and the Space Ghost one-shot by Mark Evanier and Steve Rude. Most importantly, it was where I discovered my first issue of Usagi Yojimbo.

This was fantastic! My young eyes were dazzled by the economy and expressiveness of the drawings while my mind was engaged and enamored with the authentic Japanese history infused with a hardy sense of adventure and fun. Here was a comic accessible to me, but which didn’t talk down to me. I was in love!

Many years later at San Diego Comic Con, I had the opportunity to meet the man behind Usagi, Stan Sakai, and express my admiration. To my delight, I found him both friendly and humble. His stories alone earn him such a large audience, yet his level of graciousness emphasizes how deserving he really is.

This year, Usagi celebrates its twenty-fifth anniversary. Members of the Usagi Yojimbo Dojo (a wonderful community-led forum in which Stan is an active participant) decided to put together a gift for Stan comprised of artwork, letters and congratulations from many of his appreciative fans.

While I was unable to attend this year’s Comic Con where fans presented the gift to Stan, I’m thankful to have contributed to the impressive, three-volume tome. I’m also thankful to Michael Takahara for publishing a video of the event (and for subsequently posting it to Vimeo for me to use here).

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I know, I know… I just updated this site. What can I say? Despite the profound sociological implications of the modern web I attempt to ponder each and every day, I’m still shocked at how much darn fun it can be to design for and develop in.

The updates this time around are much smaller and have trickled out over the last week. They include:

• Shortened URLs (using my own custom sticka.us domain running YOURLS) for even easier tweeting
• Related posts (powered by YARPP, see them at the bottom of the single post view)
• Browser icons accompanying comments (geeky!)

My feelings regarding these additions can be expressed quite succinctly: “Whee!”

(Apologies to Scott McCloud for the title of this post.)

Update: It was pointed out that mobile browsers (in this case, Android) had been ignored, so I added a few. Here is the list of currently supported browsers, let me know in the comments if yours is left out:

• Android
• BlackBerry
• Blogger (Pingbacks)
• Chrome
• Drupal (Pingbacks)
• Firefox
• Internet Explorer
• iPhone
• Konqueror
• Opera
• Safari
• WordPress (Pingbacks)

Depeche Mode is an act irreversibly associated with the electricity, exuberance and androgyny of the 1980s despite the fact that their classic best seller, Violator, did not arrive until March of 1990 (Wikipedia). In that album and its successor Songs of Faith and Devotion (lovingly referred to by fans as SOFAD and arguably deserving of equal acclaim), Depeche Mode abandoned the arbitrary purity sought after by many electronic bands in favor of (gasp) playing guitars!

Debuting most perceptibly in the song “Personal Jesus” (and arguably perfected in “I Feel You”), what songwriter Martin Gore calls “electronic blues” (Spin) is really the sound of a band embracing performance in service of song over style. Monday’s show at Seattle’s Key Arena had plenty of both for over ten thousand frantic attendees.

Accompanying the band in their set of twenty-one career-spanning selections (including rarely performed treats such as “Fly on the Windscreen”) were a set of striking visuals by Anton Corbijn. While lacking the jaw-dropping “ah” factor of Nine Inch Nails’ Lights in the Sky tour, Anton’s imagery continues to define a large amount of the band’s aesthetic as it has for over twenty years. It is to his credit that the backdrops often competed with the audio for the viewer’s attention.

Frontman Dave Gahan’s well-documented (and oft-mimicked) performance style delivered itself passionately and compellingly, but Martin Gore stole the show in terms of emotional impact and heartfelt performance even when standing in the sidelines. Whether behind a keyboard, guitar or microphone, it seems Gore is extremely adept at conjuring a genuine sense of yearning and honesty.

In Dave and Martin’s bare duet of “Waiting for the Night,” the last song of the evening, the band summarized why they’ve remained an ever-present force in the ears of millions of listeners far-removed from their native decade. It’s not about the synthesizers; it’s about the songs.

(Though it certainly doesn’t hurt if they’re danceable.)

Photos from Depeche Mode’s tour blog.

I’m not what you’d call a real nature lover. My lifelong allergies to all manner of pollen and plant life have instilled in me an attitude of indifference towards your average photosynthesizing soil sucker. While I may never learn to love the experience of roughing it amongst the moss and slugs, places like Silver Falls State Park in Silverton, Oregon overwhelm visitors with visual delight and subsequent inspiration.

The waterfalls are spectacular to behold and often massive in scope. You hear them long before they emerge in sight along the trail.

Walking behind the waterfall is a treat, not solely for the unique perspective it offers but also for the often breathtaking view of a vibrant landscape invigorated by the constant barrage of H₂O.

Smaller aesthetic goodies await those who look around them during the hike. The unique shapes of twisted and gangly tree trunks, perhaps formed around their fallen brethren decades or centuries ago, provide plenty of fuel for the imagination. There is never an advertisement or billboard within eyeshot, no branding these discoveries; they belong to everyone and no one.

Occasionally a trail will offer the chance to stand near the base of a fall. In these instances you may feel overwhelmed by your own diminutive stature, but the sensation is oddly liberating.

While I cannot claim to have completely retreated from civilization (our cabin had heating and linen service, not unlike those enjoyed by the late “Grizzly” Adams), I would recommend the excursion to all interested parties. The imagery you absorb and, more importantly, the bonds you form with your fellow travelers will more than make up for your drive.

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I listened to crap before I discovered two bands in high school. The first was Blur. The second was Pixies.

When Blur frontman Damon Albarn came stateside with his band The Good, the Bad and the Queen in 2007, I traveled to California to see him. He probably could have been touring with a polka/throat-singing group and I still would have attempted to show up. Certain visionaries have so much creative impact on me that getting a glimpse, in person, of how they engineer their works of art fuels and inspires me as an artist.

Charles Thompson, a.k.a. Black Francis, a.k.a. Frank Black, is one of those geniuses. I’ve had the pleasure of seeing him thrice now; once with the Pixies, once with a band in Eugene, and once last Tuesday at the Aladdin for a solo acoustic set.

The term “acoustic” is used loosely in this case, as Charles played an electric guitar. But if the sound was not acoustic in the strictest sense, it hit all the other requirements of an acoustic show:

• Mandatory seating
• An eclectic mix of the artist’s work interpreted in new, more minimal ways
• An intimate storytelling experience with the artist

Having heard Charles perform many a Pixies song, it was a wonderful treat to hear versions of his earlier solo work like “I Heard Ramona Sing,” “Headache” and “Two Wheelers” in addition to staples like “Cactus” and “Where Is My Mind?” His rendition of “Velouria” in particular was moving and beautiful.

Charles’ roar is certainly best served by a solid (or at least predatory) rhythm section driving him forward, but stripped of supporting musicians it’s clear that the essence of the Pixies’ earnest-yet-dangerous sound is alive, well and playing not-quite-acoustic shows up and down the west coast.