Seven Red

Years ago
I was an angry young man
And I’d pretend that I was a billboard
Standing tall
By the side of the road
I fell in love
With the beautiful highway
-Talking Heads, Nothing but Flowers

I got nuttin’. Well, not really. I always have something. This week, however, I’m a bit too busy for all that graffiti writin’-about. So, instead, I threw together a new banner that will grace our excursions into graffiti, on the assumption that people may start huffing and puffing soon about critique rather than production. Needless to say, banging out quick banners in Fireworks does precisely the sort of aestheticizing and reification that I’ve been arguing against here. As booga face‘s favorite poet says, well, then I contradict myself. Nevertheless, I wanted to put something together that would differentiate us for the weekend. So, there it is. You may have to hit refresh a few times to clear your cache.

I spaced out the letters a bit so it would be easier to read. Since I would usually make them a bit more compressed, I’m not extremely happy with it, but I think it came out alright. Thanks, Fireworks, for your vectorializing greatness. If you want to see the complete piece, check here.

I’m really going to try to get more flicks for next week, and pick up on the final installment of that longish analysis I’ve been offering so far, specifically on the problem of exit.

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