come saturday morning...
Kevin and I have pulled two late nighters at JK designing the wedding invitations/placecards/response cards/programs etc. etc. etc. We stayed until 2:30 this morning despite the frigid temps encompassing the metal building we huddled inside. OK, I huddled. He worked. I swear the computer schedule had the heat lower than the outside...maybe not. While I sat there watching my Kevin do his "thing" I realized several things:
There is something to this PC vs. Mac war he wages everytime he's engaged. When I ask for some miniscule alteration that in my PC head would take all of a nano second...I watch him complete a 12-step program for every little thing because of how things go to print, so that I like the finished product. Who knew. Artwork, schmartwork. For crap sake, just to send a copy to the printer looks like heart surgery to me. All these tedious little boxes to click, nothing, nothing is easy. Which is why he bristles immediately to my constant requests for little favors. "Customers" really are clueless.
My Kevin is really good at what he does. I knew that once upon a time when I would sit at his side all night in "the old days" of real graphic art. The days when he would actually draw this stuff with his skilled hands, before he started feeding commands into a computer system. I don't frequent JK very much and haven't been in his "corner" for a couple years, especially during work hours. I learned early on that his element is better for my absence. I walk in and send cosmic ripples down his spine. All good. But seeing him work and think and create and move around like a crazy man gave me a needed glimpse into his eight hours away from me every day and made me realize...
Come Saturday morning he's ready to disappear into his world of guitar picking and bass lines. He tries to head there at 5:00 each evening but isn't always able to escape before I hit him with a conflicting schedule he wrestles to get out of. He's been in graphic art for 30 years. The first twenty or so often demanded his evenings and wee hours in addition to the normal day in and day out. Always on deadline, always under pressure, always under the thumb of a business that needed it yesterday. Half hour lunches and demanding clients, year after year. It has been good to us. But hard on him. And he lives for Saturday mornings.
Gotta scoot. I have a seasonal reckoning with the house planned today and he's anxious to check his email for a collection of Chris Squire bass lines my cousin is supposed to send him. Come Saturday afternoon looks like we'll be hearing a little Yes...
There is something to this PC vs. Mac war he wages everytime he's engaged. When I ask for some miniscule alteration that in my PC head would take all of a nano second...I watch him complete a 12-step program for every little thing because of how things go to print, so that I like the finished product. Who knew. Artwork, schmartwork. For crap sake, just to send a copy to the printer looks like heart surgery to me. All these tedious little boxes to click, nothing, nothing is easy. Which is why he bristles immediately to my constant requests for little favors. "Customers" really are clueless.
My Kevin is really good at what he does. I knew that once upon a time when I would sit at his side all night in "the old days" of real graphic art. The days when he would actually draw this stuff with his skilled hands, before he started feeding commands into a computer system. I don't frequent JK very much and haven't been in his "corner" for a couple years, especially during work hours. I learned early on that his element is better for my absence. I walk in and send cosmic ripples down his spine. All good. But seeing him work and think and create and move around like a crazy man gave me a needed glimpse into his eight hours away from me every day and made me realize...
Come Saturday morning he's ready to disappear into his world of guitar picking and bass lines. He tries to head there at 5:00 each evening but isn't always able to escape before I hit him with a conflicting schedule he wrestles to get out of. He's been in graphic art for 30 years. The first twenty or so often demanded his evenings and wee hours in addition to the normal day in and day out. Always on deadline, always under pressure, always under the thumb of a business that needed it yesterday. Half hour lunches and demanding clients, year after year. It has been good to us. But hard on him. And he lives for Saturday mornings.
Gotta scoot. I have a seasonal reckoning with the house planned today and he's anxious to check his email for a collection of Chris Squire bass lines my cousin is supposed to send him. Come Saturday afternoon looks like we'll be hearing a little Yes...
posted by ret at 10:32 AM
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