XPLANE, a global information design consultancy, created “Put It Out,” an illustrated poster showing in no uncertain terms the lethal chemicals - including arsenic, methane and formaldehyde - ingested from each cigarette and what some of the harsh health facts are surrounding smoking. The 11” x 17” poster can be viewed and downloaded at www.xpla
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Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Did You Know: The Inauguration Edition
Check out this video by XPLANE that visually portrays 23 unique inauguration facts. GOBAMA!
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Did You Know?: Holiday facts from around the globe
Happy Holidays from XPLANE - the place where I spend my days! XPLANE is an information design consultancy that partners with companies to drive understanding and clarity through the use of visual thinking and design. Enjoy and happy holidays!
Friday, August 8, 2008
On Paper Wings - putting Bly on the map
For any of my fellow Southern Oregonians, you may be familiar with the story of the Japanese balloon bomb that landed in Bly and caused the only deaths on the mainland of the U.S. during WWII. But whether you're familiar or not, it's a very compelling story and has recently been made into a documentary here in Portland. The film, "On Paper Wings" screens this weekend at the Hollywood Theatre. As a person not from Bly, but having grown up with a Bly P.O. box (you figure that one out), I'd encourage people to check it out.
"On Paper Wings": Portland filmmaker Ilana Sol's documentary is a quietly effective account of the only fatalities inflicted by the enemy on the U.S. mainland during World War II -- a Japanese paper "balloon bomb" that exploded in 1945 near Bly, Ore., killing a pregnant woman and five children. It gives the perspectives of the survivors and the Japanese schoolgirls who made the balloons, not comprehending the fatal possibilities of their patriotic service.
Saturday-Sunday at Hollywood Theatre
"On Paper Wings": Portland filmmaker Ilana Sol's documentary is a quietly effective account of the only fatalities inflicted by the enemy on the U.S. mainland during World War II -- a Japanese paper "balloon bomb" that exploded in 1945 near Bly, Ore., killing a pregnant woman and five children. It gives the perspectives of the survivors and the Japanese schoolgirls who made the balloons, not comprehending the fatal possibilities of their patriotic service.
Saturday-Sunday at Hollywood Theatre
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Hooray for Hollywood!
Come out tonight for a street party on Sandy Blvd., celebrating the Hollywood Theatre's 82nd birthday! Sandy will be closed between NE 40th and 42nd. BBQ, birthday cake, beer garden (courtesy of Laurelwood Brew Pub), live entertainment, street performers and fire trucks will all be in attendance. Main stage performers include Stephanie Schneiderman, Funkplastic and the Hollywood Dance Troupe. Fun for the whole family! BBQ and beers cost $5 - all proceeds go to Film Action Oregon and the restoration of the Hollywood Theatre!
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
A Moment
My grandmother and I have never really gotten along. Ever since I was a little girl we have battled. She's called me the worst granddaughter ever - I'm sure I've called her worse than that. I think I always looked a little too much like my mom, preferred Michael Jordon t-shirts over pink frills and lace, cut my hair a little too short, preferred track meets over shopping and oh yeah, there was the time I chose a black baby doll to buy out of a store full out white ones. She has always far preferred my sister (except for a brief period when she thought maybe Lynn was a lesbian!).
My grandfather passed away in 1999. He was a strong, big, fun-loving man who adored my dad (his son), spoiled Lynn and I as a grandpa does and could keep my ornery grandma in line unlike anyone else. After he died we were sure my grandma would soon follow. But here we are nine years later and she lives on....for now.
In fact she is nearing the end of her life. She fell seriously ill about a month and a half ago. Kidney failure, diabetes flare up, fluid in the lungs - a whole series of issues. Last week I received a phone call from my mom about 8 p.m. She told me that she and my dad were headed into town - grandma was very sick and not expected to make it much longer - maybe not even until they got there. Suddenly I was struck with the feeling of "Oh crap." Here is this woman who I have argued with and really disliked all of my life, always wishing she'd just be nice to me, not be hurtful and maybe approve of something I did, said or wore. Of course I had ultimately achieved that approval when Brooke was born - on many occasions my grandma said to me, "Don't you ever wonder where she came from?" of course implying that I could never produce something that CUTE! But yes, she loves Brooke, thinks she's a smart, sweet girl which she's right about, she is. But anyway back to last week. Suddenly I felt like I had something that must be said to this woman - this woman who I have rarely been able to bring myself to say "I love you" to because of the callouses I had built up around my heart. I needed her to not die without me at least telling her that I do indeed love her...I knew that deep down she'd always loved me, in her own, often twisted and confusing way. I needed to have a "last call" with her. I called the hospital hoping they could at least hold the phone up to her ear so that I could say a few words to her. However, when I called I was told that she was doing better, moved back into her room and was resting comfortably. My parents had turned around and were headed home. What? I wiped away my tears and thought, "crazy old woman - she's just not going to die." I talked to her the next day and she was her usual cranky self - telling me how bad the food is, how the phone doesn't work right and how they won't let her do anything. Yep, same ol' Grandma. It wouldn't have been right for me to try to have some deep "last conversation" with her then - it would have been awkward and forced, and probably not well-received, if I'd tried.
Fast forward to last night.
On my way home from work I thought I should call her to let her know I was thinking about her. Mom had told me that she was having a rougher time, a lot of confusion was starting to set in. I called and reached her right away. I could tell she was weaker, somewhat confused but not overly (just telling me that she's not sure what's going on) but that she wanted to talk. I told her about our recent trip down the ranch, how Brooke loves my dad (her son), how she calls him Mr. Buckaroo and why, how they went fishing and caught two trout, how she clearly says Aunt Lynn and how she thought the fireworks were fun. I realized as the time kept passing that she wasn't anxious to get off the phone as she had been during recent calls. At one point I thought she'd set the phone down because it got really quiet but then she said, "I'm here." I realized that this was it - this was the conversation I'd been waiting and needing to have. There was some reason why she was hanging on the line. I asked her if she'd ever been to Maine and told her about our upcoming trip out there to see Pat's family and then our plans to go to Cape Cod to visit John and Danette - she commented on how nice that will be. I told her that Danette and John just had their second baby which she was surprised to hear. I told her that we went horseback riding with Lynn and she commented on how much Lynn loves horses to which I agreed. She asked me what time it was and I told her 5:30. And then without hesitation and because it made perfect sense I told her that I love her and that I just want her to be comfortable. Because that's it - that's what I've always wanted...for her to have happiness, peace and comfort in her heart. And with that I told her I'd talk to her later and we both said Bye. She didn't cry or complain or whine...we just talked about happy things.
I checked the call time on my phone: 9 min., 36 seconds.
I later learned that my parents had been there just about 45 minutes before but that she basically slept the whole time and didn't seem to have much recognition that they were there, and they certainly didn't talk for 10 minutes.
I don't know what will happen today or tomorrow but I think there was a reason why she reserved that 10 minutes for me, fighting off sleep and medication to listen to what I had to tell her and for me to know she heard it. There was unfinished business between the two of us - business that didn't exist between her and my dad, or my mom and certainly not my sister. In those 9 minutes, 36 seconds we found a common ground and my wish is that it helped grant her a level of peace that she may be that much more confident to "take the trip" as my dad says. In my heart I believe the end of her time here on earth is eminent. In reality I hope that was our "last call" - because it just felt right. It's time for her to go be with my Grandpa Bud, to drink a stiff cocktail like they used to do, and to take their newest Cadillac out for a heavenly drive while listening to Patsy Cline on the stereo as they both keep the beat on the center arm rest.
Be comfortable, Grandma. I do love you.
My grandfather passed away in 1999. He was a strong, big, fun-loving man who adored my dad (his son), spoiled Lynn and I as a grandpa does and could keep my ornery grandma in line unlike anyone else. After he died we were sure my grandma would soon follow. But here we are nine years later and she lives on....for now.
In fact she is nearing the end of her life. She fell seriously ill about a month and a half ago. Kidney failure, diabetes flare up, fluid in the lungs - a whole series of issues. Last week I received a phone call from my mom about 8 p.m. She told me that she and my dad were headed into town - grandma was very sick and not expected to make it much longer - maybe not even until they got there. Suddenly I was struck with the feeling of "Oh crap." Here is this woman who I have argued with and really disliked all of my life, always wishing she'd just be nice to me, not be hurtful and maybe approve of something I did, said or wore. Of course I had ultimately achieved that approval when Brooke was born - on many occasions my grandma said to me, "Don't you ever wonder where she came from?" of course implying that I could never produce something that CUTE! But yes, she loves Brooke, thinks she's a smart, sweet girl which she's right about, she is. But anyway back to last week. Suddenly I felt like I had something that must be said to this woman - this woman who I have rarely been able to bring myself to say "I love you" to because of the callouses I had built up around my heart. I needed her to not die without me at least telling her that I do indeed love her...I knew that deep down she'd always loved me, in her own, often twisted and confusing way. I needed to have a "last call" with her. I called the hospital hoping they could at least hold the phone up to her ear so that I could say a few words to her. However, when I called I was told that she was doing better, moved back into her room and was resting comfortably. My parents had turned around and were headed home. What? I wiped away my tears and thought, "crazy old woman - she's just not going to die." I talked to her the next day and she was her usual cranky self - telling me how bad the food is, how the phone doesn't work right and how they won't let her do anything. Yep, same ol' Grandma. It wouldn't have been right for me to try to have some deep "last conversation" with her then - it would have been awkward and forced, and probably not well-received, if I'd tried.
Fast forward to last night.
On my way home from work I thought I should call her to let her know I was thinking about her. Mom had told me that she was having a rougher time, a lot of confusion was starting to set in. I called and reached her right away. I could tell she was weaker, somewhat confused but not overly (just telling me that she's not sure what's going on) but that she wanted to talk. I told her about our recent trip down the ranch, how Brooke loves my dad (her son), how she calls him Mr. Buckaroo and why, how they went fishing and caught two trout, how she clearly says Aunt Lynn and how she thought the fireworks were fun. I realized as the time kept passing that she wasn't anxious to get off the phone as she had been during recent calls. At one point I thought she'd set the phone down because it got really quiet but then she said, "I'm here." I realized that this was it - this was the conversation I'd been waiting and needing to have. There was some reason why she was hanging on the line. I asked her if she'd ever been to Maine and told her about our upcoming trip out there to see Pat's family and then our plans to go to Cape Cod to visit John and Danette - she commented on how nice that will be. I told her that Danette and John just had their second baby which she was surprised to hear. I told her that we went horseback riding with Lynn and she commented on how much Lynn loves horses to which I agreed. She asked me what time it was and I told her 5:30. And then without hesitation and because it made perfect sense I told her that I love her and that I just want her to be comfortable. Because that's it - that's what I've always wanted...for her to have happiness, peace and comfort in her heart. And with that I told her I'd talk to her later and we both said Bye. She didn't cry or complain or whine...we just talked about happy things.
I checked the call time on my phone: 9 min., 36 seconds.
I later learned that my parents had been there just about 45 minutes before but that she basically slept the whole time and didn't seem to have much recognition that they were there, and they certainly didn't talk for 10 minutes.
I don't know what will happen today or tomorrow but I think there was a reason why she reserved that 10 minutes for me, fighting off sleep and medication to listen to what I had to tell her and for me to know she heard it. There was unfinished business between the two of us - business that didn't exist between her and my dad, or my mom and certainly not my sister. In those 9 minutes, 36 seconds we found a common ground and my wish is that it helped grant her a level of peace that she may be that much more confident to "take the trip" as my dad says. In my heart I believe the end of her time here on earth is eminent. In reality I hope that was our "last call" - because it just felt right. It's time for her to go be with my Grandpa Bud, to drink a stiff cocktail like they used to do, and to take their newest Cadillac out for a heavenly drive while listening to Patsy Cline on the stereo as they both keep the beat on the center arm rest.
Be comfortable, Grandma. I do love you.
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