Art from an Evil Canvas: The Berlin Wall

“The Iron Curtain.” That was a term I heard often as a kid growing up in the Cold War ’60s. What exactly was this metallic barrier, and who or what was behind it, I wondered. Little did I know that British Prime Minster Winston Churchill had coined the term to refer to the invisible, ideological barrier that separated the free world from the Communist world. But in time, I came to realize that an actual curtain really did exist – one made of concrete. It was called the Berlin Wall, and it held much fascination for me. When I first set foot in the German capital in 1993, my first order of business was a trip to the famous Checkpoint Charlie area to buy up as much memorabilia as I could: from silly touristy things – like a tiny chunk of the demolished wall, encased in plastic, to books detailing the history of the barrier and the incredible stories of East Germans who carried out elaborate schemes to scale or burrow under the wall. But my favorite souvenir is a book that features the incredible amateur graffiti that once adorned the western side of the wall, as well as the more professional paintings that cover the structure’s few remaining remnants. The most famous image of all is known as “The Kiss.”

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Elvis 11 Times

My mom was washing dishes and I was drying them when we heard the news on TV that Elvis died - August 18, 1977. Like the day President Kennedy was assassinated, you always remember where you were and what you were doing the day the King left the throne. (Actually, he had fallen off the toilet, but you get my…

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The Freshwoman

If someone had told me back in 1977 that young men barely past their Clearasil years would be saying “What’s your major” to me at age 40, I‘d have said “No way!” Well..."way!” It was all part of my experience as a student at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh, where I took some non-credit courses in the summer of 2000. Here's what I wrote at the end of my first day of classes.

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Confessions of a Font Addict

Die Nasty. Dream Orphans. Beat My Guest. Highway to Heck. No, these aren’t names of punk rock groups or titles of angst-ridden, teen-penned poems. They’re names of fonts. Four evocatively named fonts that co-exist among the hundreds of others in my Mac. Fonts that compete on a daily basis to be chosen for use in one of my literary or graphic masterpieces (ahem). I’ve rarely met a font I didn’t fall in love with. I’ve cruised the Internet super highways by night, luring new fonts to my harem. I’ve risked system contamination, blindly downloading free fonts from fly-by-night sites with seedy names like FontLust.com. Rogue fonts now reside alongside legitimate fonts that automatically enter the neighborhood every time I install new publishing software. Ah, but this indiscriminate font love now poses a major digital dilemma: I simply have more fonts than I can fathom.

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