I always start out kind of slow on Thursdays. My boss only works Monday through Wednesday, so there's a kind of release of pent up "but I don't want to work"-ness. Plus there are a couple of other things contributing to my laze-malaise. One is that the things I have to do are not easily quantifiable — I need to figure some things out, as opposed to replace all the art in chapter three with hi-resolution pieces, etc. The second is that I have part two of my interview at Big Publishing Company today during lunch. I'm meeting the HR person and seeing Paul (The Man Who Would Be My Boss) again before sprinting back to work here. So, I'm a little preoccupied and feeling a bit like "Fffffh! I'm not even going to be working here in a couple of weeks." Of course, who the hell knows? I'm concerned with my less than stellar track record with my bosses in the past — who would I have them call for recommendations? I don't know. Ah well. I'll just be as honest as I can without making me sound like the petulant child I've been at times. (I do have to say that I feel like I've done a much better job here. Although my boss would probably have a few reservations about giving me a completely glowing review, I've charted a much smoother course here than any other workplace I can think of.)
Suddenly I'm remembering a day in college when I was on a bus heading to downtown Seattle. I was planning on going to the waterfront and maybe even a museum. I thought I could hole up somewhere and drink some coffee and write in my journal. Suddenly, horrifyingly, I remembered that I was supposed to work that day -- as I did every day. I got off the bus at the next stop and found a payphone (this is well before cell phones) and called. For the life of me I can't remember what I did. I either lied and said I couldn't make it in, or I said I was running late and that I'd be in as soon as I could get there. Knowing me, I'm going to guess I lied. Poorly.
In other news, further ripples from the slight boost in self-belief from the interview: I contacted my old job (who hadn't given me any new work on this season's list) and asked the Assistant AD if there was something I could do to get back on the "designers we use" list. An hour later, after a couple emails, he sent me a rush title that I've been working on this week. Reminder to self: ask. Don't think about asking. Ask.
And that's a whole other story, that cover. It's about genocide and why it happens. The photo research has been incredibly depressing and horrifying. Imagine looking at a couple thousand images of Rwanda and the like.
You look at these images as just pictures — partly trying to find something that could support being a book cover... a shot that has a good shape, etc. — but then, you stop and really look and imagine what it would really be like to be standing there among those dead bodies, littering the ground. You see the soldiers there — now, too late, protecting a child squatting on his haunches looking toward the camera, with a look on his face that seems peaceful — and you try to imagine what it would be like, having lived through such violence and terror and lawlessness. What would these soldiers, these photographers mean now? How could you ever climb out of that darkness that must have begun to eat away at your ability to feel safe, or to feel anything for that matter? How does something like that happen?
It's hard to pull yourself back from there and focus on designing something. It's too intense, and real, and I've several times felt like there were images I couldn't use because they were too nakedly ... personal. Not overly violent and gruesome (although there are plenty of those), but images that seem to invade the subjects "space" somehow, and would trivialize what they were going through.
It's been an interesting gig. I sent in a second round of comps today. These have gotten a pretty good response. We'll see how it goes.
Perhaps I'll post some of those attempts on here later.
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