Pound for Pound

Designers consistently create based on intentional choices. From the very beginning, function drives form, intentions become the basis for the vehicle, and a structure is developed that can be fleshed out.

To many people, paper isn't intentional; whatever's at Staples, whatever comes free with returning an ink cartridge is good enough. But for me, I see it is as an opportunity to be intentional. Paper, believe it or not, can be invigorating. It is a sensory explosion when the Mary Kay reps of the graphic world, the paper reps, come to your workplace for a promotional show-and-tell. Brochures exhibit paper and printing techniques for the deep-pocketed; sample books pegged in one corner fan out like a touting peacock; and over the course of lunch, we melt like we've just been read a Shakespearean sonnet. It's a special time, really, because you dive in the tactility, closing your eyes, rubbing your fingers together, recognizing the impact of the details.

I am thankful that I have this heightened sensitivity.

I guess with all of this said, it is only natural that I have been identifying myself with papers lately. Why do I feel connected to Mead instead of Mohawk? Why do I find comfort in the structure of college-ruled instead of a grid system I have lain myself on a pure sheet of white?