Amy, 24, Melbourne, web designer, piano student, Slytherin, nostalgia (and chocolate) addict, and languisher in all things baroque, rococo, and Tolkien.
This afternoon we finally went to the museum for the Titanic exhibition, something I actually meant to do right around its opening. Nevertheless, I’ll ramble for a bit about it and see where the post heads…
Before our allocated entrance time we spent a little while in the insect displays… I really wanted to look at everything (and Adam wants to spend a day just in the insect section) but there were so many MOTH specimens that immediately I got hot and overwhelmed by fear and had to run off. I found a safer section of nice harmless tarantulas, ants and such, and braved the place for a little while. I attempted to ‘help’ my fear by looking at a picture of a bogong moth yesterday (probably not a good species to start with, ugh) and straight-away broke down shaking and crying. Adam reassured me because he loves bugs and will always deal with them when needed. I have a healthy aversion to certain insects but usually like to examine them (especially spiders and tiny things under the microscope), but this ‘mottephobia’ can be quite paralyzing. Logic doesn’t win out and … well, now I need to stop talking about them.
So, Titanic. We were given a boarding pass each and had a random photo taken (I wonder how many people objected to this over the course of the exhibition?!). It was a linear type experience, and the crowds were thick and awkward because text displays were often near doorways and there were about five areas perfectly set up for bottlenecks. This made it hard to see things, to move around, or to make your way back through. They encouraged you to stay as long as you like, but we ended up not wanting to because it was quite a claustrophobic atmosphere, except in perhaps two areas. Children were fine but adults kept lingering and blocking walkways so we tended to spend more time navigating crowds than experiencing something special. I think we could’ve avoided this by getting VIP tickets earlier.
From left to right: the entrance, our awkward grand staircase picture, boarding pass scans, pieces from an earlier exhibition (Kate Florence Phillips’ necklace and some 1997 film costumes), and my small personal collection (missing some pieces).
On the large scale they had reconstructions of the grand staircase (rather overwhelmed me at first, and we were photographed there), a first and third-class corridor and room (complete with atmospheric boiler-room noises), and café façade. On display was a 2-tonne piece of the hull, a door from the D-deck, and an enormous sheet of ice to give people an idea of the temperatures of ice in the Atlantic. Among other pieces could be found one of the cherubs, various tools, wrenches, crockery, coal, floor tiles, portholes, china basins, an ornate window frame, a chamber pot, and a spittoon. There were a lot of personal effects in rather good condition for things that had been 4km underwater for 90 years or so. Things like coins, banknotes, razors, telegrams and documents, jewellery, a pocket watch, buttons, and perfume vials belonging to perfumer Mr. Adolphe Saalfeld (who was rescued). A suit, leather belt, steward’s jacket, a trilby hat and a large paisley cravat were also preserved quite well.
We didn’t really stop to read things since rather detailed Titanic history has been in the family for decades, but overall the artefacts were fascinating and had we been alone there may have been time to react more thoughtfully to things. Many documentaries we have seen on the subject have invoked more sadness and respect than I think this exhibition did. Around 10 years ago (maybe more?) Ballarat hosted a smaller exhibition which we went to. It was nothing like the scale of this one and had a lot less artefacts from the wreck. It wasn’t crowded but was a little more focused on the cashing-in after the 1997 film. We’re still very glad to have gone today but are left with mixed feelings.
I’ve decided to touch on some web/graphic design issues (and my thoughts on them) that are relevant to me at this point, as a bit of a vent and also because I’m working solidly on a few jobs so it’s really ‘on the mind’ right now.
Copyright – It seems the better your work, the more people are going to blatantly copy or re-use it without credit. Don’t ever think a designer isn’t going to recognise the things they spend hours on being used in your work. If you want to reuse someone’s work, ask them or stick a credit somewhere in honour of the inspiration they’ve obviously given you. One can’t copyright a hex code or random photoshop effect, but your original design and content actually becomes copyright the moment you create it. What do you do? If it’s nothing serious you might let it slide, or throw a polite “I’m glad you liked my work”/”some credit would be nice” comment out there. In serious cases where your livelihood or reputation is at stake you should take legal action.
Satisfaction – You’ll never be perfectly happy with a design. If you think you are, you’re going to second-guess yourself sooner or later (if not constantly) and it’s a vicious cycle that occasionally can make you want to give it up altogether. Well, that’s how I feel. Aiming for near-perfection and filling all the needs and aims of a project is really the key though. Don’t expect to come up with the right design straight away, and don’t expect a client to love the design just because you do! I’ve learnt that it’s essential to really get in and understand a client’s needs and reasons before undertaking a project. Taking the time to do that means they feel you really want to help them and do a good job, that it’s not just about the money, and it saves time and frustration in the long run through the design process.
Standards – Everywhere you look online there are places condemning certain design practises, overused fonts, cheesy digital effects, colour schemes, your design program of choice, and well, anything that one could possibly have a differing opinion on. Well, the news is that there are more ways to get from A to B than one! You may have a quick and effective way of designing a website but if someone else can get the same result in different way, neither way is necessarily ‘best’. Also, in a creative display of any sort, it’s personal! It’s okay to have a unique way of designing, as long as you stick roughly to web standards when working on commercial projects. I’ve found it useful to get the opinions of the everyday computer user (whose opinions on functionality are usually very important) on a design, not just the professionals. Occasionally I feel almost like I’m designing for the critical online eyes (including my own) rather than my client.
What this site may have looked like had I been content to use my initial idea... yay or nay?
Quality – In design, I believe in quality over quantity. You won’t see 50 different clients or websites in my portfolio because, as an individual, I could never cater for that many people to a high standard. A client may owe me money for the skilled work I provide, but I also owe them a completely unique design, the best I can do, and not a stock-standard website that quickly becomes a bore to spend time on. Rest assured that when I design something, I never stop thinking about how to make it look its best and meet all the client’s needs before delivering. I also believe that quality control on content is important — your business presence online or in print should be accurate, to-the-point, and friendly. Some websites look incredible and the designer’s skills are obviously great, but too much attitude or a clinical approach (with no warmth) is an instant turn-off.
Unreliability – Here’s an admission: I am somewhat unreliable. It’s something I’m working to fix because I don’t consider it acceptable in any sort of professional field. Here’s the good part: I deliver on-time, I spend a lot of hours on each project, I do a good job, I don’t charge the earth, and I’m more than happy to take on the work in most cases. It’s only through learning by experience that I can now recommend the best web hosts, avoid broken links, design for all browsers and screen sizes, and make something that doesn’t look like it’s been thrown together in FrontPage full of frames and tables, but this has sucked a bit for the people who’ve had problems along the way, and I haven’t always been able to deal with them as promptly as I should. I’m not professionally trained and the business is not my main source of income. Awkward health issues and clinical depression (there’s another admission, you’re bound to hear more about them here someday!), coupled with a slight avoidance of responsibility, equals me not delivering the best I can on a 24-hour basis. That isn’t an acceptable business protocol (though it generally concerns the unpaid work!) so I’m not going to keep that up.
To sum up, web design is not a great career choice if you lack determination, are bereft of creativity, are scared of jumping out of your digital comfort zone, don’t like dealing with people, can’t take criticism, want to be rich, don’t like to be stifled, or are unwilling to keep up with ever-evolving web standards. If you have all that it takes and a fiercely good professional manner, start a small design firm. Learn from all your mistakes, set challenges and never stop improving. Either work for yourself or for a company, and avoid freelance unless it completely suits your lifestyle! Like a kid who wants to be a rock star/pianist/marine biologist/teacher (i.e. me at ages 5, 10, 12 and 14 respectively) you usually find that it’s the idea of the career that is most inviting. You may actually be destined for something completely different.
The aforementioned ‘pirate cruise‘ was a grand success, and countless dangerous adventures were had on the high seas! By that I mean that we sailed for a few hours through calm and still water, climbing the rigging, drinking punch and ARRRRing at any passing speedboat. The majority of us headed back to a pirate-themed tavern (a bogan pub disguised in jolly rogers and old canvases) for a drink or fifty. My motion sickness normally extends to any vehicle I’m not in direct control of, but the stomach blessedly held out that day. I have a great reverence and wonderment at the ocean and simply drawing close to it normally gets me quite excited; there’s nothing I’d love more than to be able to sail with dear Winter (should she ever read this) while she guides us over the breast of Ulmo.
My 14-year-old niece is here for a few days while it’s school holidays. She’s rolling a new character on LotRO while Adam and I drool over the thought of the World of Darkness MMO — it’s in very early production stages since White Wolf merged with CCP Games (makers of Eve Online). We have been playing Dragon Age constantly, romancing all possible characters and creating general drama. I’m going to play it again as an evil bastard next time… Every strictly non-multiplayer game makes us yearn to play it together, while most MMOs end up infuriating us through the very liberal allowances made in players’ ingame behaviour and speech. There is little to be done but ignore it, and attempting to spar in wit with said trolls and imbeciles is completely useless. It’s sort of a lesser version of on-road stress — I have a great deal of contempt for an enormous percentage of drivers. Where I live, young men use their high disposable incomes to purchase vehicles along the lines of Commodores, Falcons, and high-powered utes. Their female counterparts are usually found in Lancers and Excels. All of them drive as if they have a not a whit of care for the safety of themselves or anyone else, their aggressive tendencies are completely intimidating and their insecurities in their manhood are obvious. It’s an example of how doing the right thing (not speeding or behaving stupidly on the road) still earns dangerous aggression and one-upmanship. I believe risky driving and super high speeds should be kept exclusively on a racetrack for people who can prove their licenses were earned through, say, more than 10 hours of supervised driving? Don’t get me wrong though! As much as the romantic fancy of travelling everywhere via horse and carriage endears us, I love to drive. We have a humble, dark red, 10-year-old Corolla and it meets all our transport needs perfectly. It’s attractive, economic, light, just the right size for us, safe, and had the extra creature comforts that my faithful little ’80 TE Gemini (Lord rest its soul) didn’t. But, mmm, the purr of the Aston Martin DBS V12 (drooled over before ever seeing Casino Royale [here we have a momentary pause for the mind to wander into Eva Green territory], thank you)… my thoughts on it are usually summed up as, “aurally defecating on all the singlet-toting hoipolloi that hoon up and down our road or screech around in nearby carparks.” That’s right, bogans. Your V8 and your modding and your tyres and exhaust pipes and infernal revving and ogling at passing female drivers isn’t the least bit impressive. In fact, you disgust most of us. Things Bogans Like always has me snorting and snickering away at all the silly ‘things’ easily recognisable in bogan culture, and I’m afraid my time spent there last night brought to the surface a few pet peeves. Nevermind.
Well, after that interesting segue (I’m noticing an increasing trend in these segues, especially ones under-laced with a bit of cynicism) I’ll touch on a few light-hearted matters before a rousing round of Mario Kart on the DS.
Father brought home a 42-inch Panasonic plasma T.V. the other day. He’s all but a technophobe until recently so this is a really impressive feat for him: a NEW television! We pulled out the N64 and christened it with Goldeneye, Blackadder Goes Forth, Deathly Hallows Part 1 trailer (more on that in a second) and so on. I finally got a new printer also, a Canon Pixma MX860, and it is beeeeaaauutiful. I exercised it by printing out and playing ‘Consider, Fond Shepherd’ from Acis & Galatea, and Schubert’s Impromptu No.3 in G flat.
On a whim two days ago we also finally tilled the overgrown vegetable ‘garden’, added new compost/manure/fertiliser/mulch and planted a heap of seedlings. Hopefully in a few weeks I’ll have a bit to show for it, but I’m most excited about the garlic and other herbs. It will be nice not to have to buy them in future. Also, if my plans for living off the land (as much as possible) are ever to transpire then I might as well practise in the soil already around me.
All I want to say about that Harry Potter trailer is that, in true rabid Potterphile fashion, I had to leave the room immediately after to shudder and weep at the thought of the dénouement of it all. That’s what happened at the end of the Return of the King, at any rate. I was inconsolable for a while, completely overwhelmed, and then had to go home to process it all. The image left is reminiscent of both horrifying moments as two great wizards fall from a great height to their doom. Both series (and characters) have had a rather enormous impact on my life and while I could say a lot about either, I usually tether the intensity within my own head and restrain my obsession to collecting.
On Tuesday I decided to clear some clutter from my bathroom. I was going to start with some easy task like removing the big box of useless cat toys and picking up the towels all over the floor, but as is my habit, once I got started it was hard to ignore the rest of the filth. Six hours’ cleaning worth of filth and untidiness, actually. I usually just scrub down the basin area and bleach the bath, but this time I took it to the walls and ceiling. It’s possibly the first time the ceiling has been cleaned since the room was done up about 30 years ago… And goodness, did it make a difference! See, I figured if I were to take pride in a room (for once) it would have to be something nice to begin with, and there’s no way this bathroom can be considered ‘nice’ while sporting its current wall colour. We called it ‘apricot salmon’, because at first it’s this orangey sickly colour but then you look again… and you’re really not sure of what it is. My bedroom walls used to be a similar colour before I painted them lemon and lilac to match a particular Harry Potter t-shirt that I used to wear constantly. So I dared to ask father whether I could paint the walls. Usually this sort of request would be answered by outright denial of the need for it and then something along the lines of, “what’s wrong with the colour it is now?” That’s exactly what I got, so I asked a few more times throughout the day, affirming that it would not come at his expense or labour, and would add value to the house. I showed him scrubbed and unscrubbed sections of wall and ceiling to point out the difference it made. I took pictures of the room and used photoshop to change the the wall colours for him to see my plan. He looked around and stated that the ceiling would need sanding back because it was oil paint but that he probably had lots of white paint in the shed, and that the walls would need an undercoat and he’d have a look at his work for paint. Not only was he responsive but he was offering to make it easier. And I found out his work stocks lots of paint, so all I need to do is go in and pick some swatches. I decided on a rather light but rich plum colour, something that would still look okay with the old tiles and floor.
In the meantime, to stave off impatience, I took plans into my own hands and went out to various bargain shops to find new fittings and essential bathroom items that would suit the room enough. I came back with purple and white hand-towels and face-washers, a 5-piece black toothbrush/soap holder set, a small gold mirror, a shelf unit, some sort of potpourri, another shower curtain, mats, and a shiny new shower caddy to replace the gross white rusty one. All up, the difference was quite refreshing.
The night before, and the day after.
The colour I'd like the walls to be, though it will be lighter and more rosy because father doesn't want any dark colours.
Last night I was also delighted to win something I think was a veritable bargain in the world of fabrics. Twenty meters of green upholstery fabric in a delightful damask print is now on its way to me! My heart was beating rather fast and I was very anxious in the last minute of the auction, but my high sniping bid ensured I came out the victor. It worked out at about $3.35 per metre. I am off to see the crafty vixen behindVanyanis this afternoon, to plot over what we shall do with it. I was thinking 18th century sacque-backs or one of these robes for myself, or perhaps a Victorian skirt, but perhaps I need to think outside the obvious. And when it arrives we’ll be able to gauge what it’s most suitable for anyway. It really is time to stop spending for this fortnight.
The only other exciting news I have right now is that on Sunday my teacher’s giving a recital in the retirement village my grandparents live in, and I’ll be playing some things there. I decided on Bach’s E minor Prelude and Fugue #1 (BWV 855), the second movement of Ravel’s Sonatine, and I’m accompanying the darling Alice Emerald while she sings ‘If’, a favourite Nyman composition of mine. I don’t feel entirely technically prepared but I don’t usually make a fool of myself so I’ll just draw on everything I’ve been told and hope for the best.
I’m off to use the improved bathroom now!
Amidst all the 2010 Australian Federal Election hype, the confusing and opaque policies of parties and politicians, and the intensely negative and critical atmosphere surrounding the election, a few rays of wintry sunlight have shone in the unnavigable field of my mind. I had almost committed to an invalid vote through sheer disillusionment with “politics”, but less than 24 hours ago decided that my personal moral obligations shouldn’t include backing out when things are a bit tough. And of course, writing numbers down with pencil and paper is dreadfully hard for those of a modest educational quotient who also happen to live next door to the polling venue. Ahem.
So the important points that have come to me through this little time of personal anxiety and confusion included:
- To avoid a fine (voting being compulsory for pretty much everyone over 18 in Australia), I at least needed to turn up to vote and have my name marked off. The temptation to scrawl, “Gandalf for President!”, lewd anatomical drawings, or to waste wit on the paper all occurred to me, but at the near last-minute I decided to take the vote as serious as was possible.
- I didn’t agree fully with the policies of any one political party. In fact, even when trying to pick the ‘worst of the best’ I discovered that I wasn’t exactly sure of my own stances on all of the issues in question. There wasn’t the time for soul-searching or intense research on, well, the history of the world, to best cast a vote that I could honestly believe was best for the Australian people — which brings me to disillusionment, and the bane of illustrious society: bogans.
- The musings of Malefiction in “Voting – It’s Your Sole Purpose” touch on the notion of how important your vote seems to be to other people, who feel that your vote is wasted if you do not take it seriously, and also bogan xenophobia. I had thought that privacy was an important factor around voting, but I have witnessed so many blunt and overt comments and claims, often quite nasty and unproductive, that it seems everyone but myself has an opinion for once. My opinions, being something that have come under unexpected scrutiny when I have rarely bothered to share them, are often at odds with the mainstream or that ‘enlightened’ generation of today’s sophisticated hipsters. Which is interesting considering I’m quite conservative on most issues.
- Thus, I used Below the Line to create a completely custom .pdf document of my preferences, all 60 of them, which I printed and filled in at the ballot box. I stood giggling next to the Inamorato, who I believe was using his time to enable the ballot paper-sorter to easily find Wally.
- At the end of the day the difference I make is not solely going to be via a piece of paper that we fill out every few years. It’s going to be in the endless series of thoughts and choices I make every minute of every day, the way I affect people close to me, my personal responsibilities, and my personal moral standpoint. Voting is just one of those many choices. I hold by the position that regardless of how education or life experience contributes to my personal purpose on earth, every choice I make should not be for myself, my country, a political party, or anyone on earth. It should be to the glory of God and in accordance to His will. I want reverence for all life, forgiveness, justice, the fruits of the spirit and, over all, love to be the driving force of all my choices. That will be difficult for some to reconcile with, but they must respect my rights and views as I respect theirs.
- Straight from the Raj, tiger pelt, timepieces and all.
In other matters, the house-sitting came to its blessed end. We were half glad of the opportunity to be all sickeningly sweet and domestic all on our own, but it was cold and dirty and bereft of the creature comforts of home. I am always willing to help out family and friends in those sorts of things, being practical ways that I can contribute and in like repay generosity we have received ourselves.
Most of our books have arrived from our order; they are sent out as soon as they are available rather than all in a bulk lot. It’s exciting to check the porch each day in the hope of a parcel of new books!
Last night we had fun at a “Steampunk: Gaslamp British India” party. We took on the garb of an explorer and his brave woman. I’m awaiting more photos but can provide a rather good one for now. I wore my chemise à la reine and made a new green sash for it which was a lovely contrast to the candy pink it normally sports! I have put on so much weight I couldn’t do up my stays, so my realistic goal is to keep up my small but regular exercise regime and my improved eating habits. My doctors helped me a few weeks ago when things got rather down and lethargic (my iron levels were much too low), but also suggested I keep my weight about 10kg lighter than I am now. I am inclined to agree but am trying not to let those old demons in, in regards to body image and such. Health is my main motivation these days! More later…
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Juliette at Classical Doll