And it is aural as well as visual: we hear silence at first, the resonance of the plains, birdsong perhaps, then the rustle of leaves, the slap and rattle of water, wind through grass, branches being pushed back as we make our way through the landscape. […] Graceful turns, slow eddies, interesting detours, now and then a surprised trout. One feels the heat bouncing up from a stubbled field, cold feet from slushy snow, gentle spring winds, smells of rain and hot asphalt, the rumble of trucks, the prickle of a milkweed pod on the back of a hand, windsung barbed wire.
And the landscape varies—from open prairie crossroads and fields, to suburban streets and homes, to roadside trash, to foothilled heights and back down to fields and the plain. Up and down, back and forth, our vision shifting from side to side to take in these shifting panoramas.
So began Peter Brown’s 1996 review of Robert Adams’ Listening to the River: Seasons in the American West, a book of photographic landscapes. These snapshots read as an itemized list of my nostalgia. To know these vistas is to know me and my childhood. I was raised on the prairie, and this land is within me.
This site has existed before, in various guises, and I intend to use it again as a visual journal and to write, sporadically, on design and the visual arts.
I'm not a big fan of bios. My name is Andy, and I studied art history and interior design. I have worked as a graphic designer, focusing on typography, and in film. I am a multidisciplinary designer based in Calgary, Alberta, Canada.
This is what I see.