Crafting Additional Playing Card Suits

It isn’t much of a secret that I am fascinated by the idea of playing card suits. In fact, I’ve previously written an article on the subject. During my research into alternative suits (aside from the French hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs, that is) I became so fascinated with the idea that I created my own set of four additional suits (being represented in a 104-card deck) which were revealed at the end of the aforementioned article. In the time since then, I have become less satisfied with these designs and more capable in my own design skills, which led me to attempt this project again.
The first thing I did was go back to my research, collecting again every attempt at a different set of suits that I had previously looked at. Then I reviewed as much additional information as I could (several comments on my previous post led me down interesting paths, and with the constant exponential increase in data on the internet, there were a myriad of options that had either been created or come to light since my previous search. Links to as many of these as possible will be provided at the end*). I then created a master document where I cut out all of the various suits I had found and aligned them with all the others for comparison purposes (I also found that, strangely, some designs seem to have been “lifted” from elsewhere, which surprises me, one would think there wouldn’t be money in doing such a thing). I then reviewed the reasons that people had listed for creating each of these additional suits (at least, those that weren’t regional variations from centuries past) and found James Robert Watson’s methodology to be what I would consider the most sound (and his designs, in my opinion, the most successful). I reviewed the elements of the standard French design for the features that made them a cohesive set, and their symbolism. I then attempted to create as many different possible shapes that utilized these features and could be made to symbolize something easily recognizable (and, if possible, similar to those of the regional Spanish, German, or Italian suits).
One of the things that I noted when reviewing the myriad of ways others had attempted this challenge was that the symbols were often either too complicated or attempting to signify something more complicated than the 4 shapes they were meant to harmonize with. Indeed, looking at the 4 suits they don’t have that much in common aside from the “obvious” derivation of the spades and hearts. Perhaps a part of their cohesiveness is familiarity. I don’t have many symbols paired together in my life the way card suits are, but there is something pleasing about the 4 of them arranged in the abstract, even though they range in complexity from two lines to six, and don’t use lines that behave in consistent manners. Upon studying these details, I laid out several rules for myself in constructing my additional suits:
  • A symbol must be made of either straight lines or simple curves.
  • A symbol must be horizontally symmetrical.
  • It is okay and, at times, preferable to have a symbol be derivative of another symbol.
  • All symbols must be easily differentiable at a glance without color being a factor.
  • A symbol may not exceed 7 lines (clubs, the previous highest, have 6).
  • A symbol must have characteristics such that it can be paired with at least one other suit and fit into a group of 4 suits.
  • A symbol must be passably recognizable as what it is attempting to symbolize.
  • A symbol must feel as if it fits with the others.
Admittedly, the last one is a bit subjective. However, during this run, cohesiveness in design was central to what I wanted to achieve. My previous attempt looked like everyone else’s, so I wanted to make something that was my own, that fit. I sketched a series of designs starting with my previous attempt and working in some of what I have found in my research. I determined that in order to visually fit in, the designs had to represent items that could be considered “timeless”. Modern mechanisms just wouldn’t fit in, and there was a reason things like flowers or swords had been chosen as suits in the past (though often not as stylized). Beyond those conscious decisions it is difficult to explain how an iterative process creates, so I will simply display the result, laid out in a way that I believe makes its connections to the source material apparent.
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Migraines are a Problem

Working title: “Migraines are terrible for everything ever”

Yesterday (as of me writing this) I had a migraine, which is all I feel like talking about right now, because it’s all I can feel in my head. I can’t really concentrate on any other article I was going to write. So I’d just like to say that migraines are the worst thing ever, ever.

And they aren’t just headaches. When I get a migraine, I lose vision sometimes, I throw up a lot (and I don’t throw up like an average person, my whole body heaves), I get really cold, I can’t stand light, and my perception of the world is just generally clouded. Sometimes the funk can last for weeks, preventing me from doing any type of work or play because one false move and I’ll go back to feeling like there’s an axe in my head.

I might be exaggerating saying migraines are the worst thing ever. I’m sure there are more terrible things, but don’t underestimate migraines. The main “attack” only lasts less than 6 hours for me most times, but can last up to a week, and the after-effects for much longer. I can’t even begin to comprehend the pain of having a longer headache, let alone what goes with it. It’s one of the most frustrating things, because there is so little you can do to stop it, most medications are hit or miss, and many people are undiagnosed. And it’s made all the more frustrating because the more you get frustrated at it, the worse it gets or the easier to becomes to trigger. And almost anything can become a trigger.

What I’m trying to say is, a migraine isn’t just a “bad headache”. It can be, but very often it is something much more than that, and when someone is having a migraine that they know is a migraine, it is very important to work to help, or accommodate them as much as possible.

I was in a migraine-induced funk for all of February and November in 2014, which lost me two months of work which I still haven’t recovered. Fortunately, I was ahead. I lose about a month of work a year, and more time with friends, (because that involves activity and not being at a desk) to migraines, and for some people it is much worse.

Don’t underestimate their power in some peoples’ lives. They can influence a lot of decisions, and when having a migraine, they can feel like the worst thing that could ever possibly happen to you. I get fear responses when I know I’m close to one. My body gets ready to try and fight it because it knows it can’t run away, of course you can “fight” a headache.

Seriously, they’re terrible! That is my announcement, and all I can think of right now.

On Being Disappointed With Your Work

It’s December again (time waits for no man), and that means I should be looking back on the year (or, like most people, drinking to forget it on the next first). I’ve got to say that I’ve been happy with what the year has offered me. It’s been quite a lot, though most of my major projects have turned out to be failures.

Now, even though I’d call it a good year, I’m still disappointed with a lot of things I did or didn’t do. I have a very long list of things to improve, and things to do. Like all of those types of lists, it gets longer faster than it gets shorter. That’s why I can’t use these little organizer notebooks. They don’t have an ever-expanding list page. Anyway, there are things I’m disappointed with (like my inability to not go on tangents), and that’s fine.

No one is ever going to be completely satisfied with what they do. There are many healthy ways to look at something that didn’t quite work as you wanted it to and see a way to improve the next time. Because you don’t want to be the “There is an imperfection in my art because only God can create perfection” guy, for more reasons than just blasphemy. It would also discourage improvement. If you only have flaws because perfection is unachievable (or because you chose to not be as good as God), then you should really be doing something amazing in like, science or something

Anyway (damn tangents), the point is it’s okay to be disappointed with your work. There is very rarely a thing I don’t have a problem with, and it’s never my own. For instance I have a book I made that will be on Amazon shortly (two in fact- it’s not a plug because they aren’t available yet) and they are amazing. It’d be hard to be happier with them, but I still see plenty of flaws in both the cover and interior designs (which I did on my own). I know better could be done, and I will strive to do better the next time. But it’s important to let things be done.

While I can look back on things and say they could have been better if I’d spent more time on this, or if I’d been able to see that mistake, I’m not saying those things are bad, or take away from something. I like to let things live once they’ve been created (not continuously changing e.g. George Lucas) and that’s just me. When something is done, it’s done for me. And if I could have done something more to make it better at the time I might not even have known how. Each project allows me to learn more things and do the next one better.  Whether that means higher quality or faster turn-around times, I can always do better.

It’s fine to be disappointed with something, as long as that doesn’t make you stop. As long as it’s less about hating what you’ve done, and more about loving the next thing you do.

Forcing My Work

Well, I just got back from a little Thanksgiving vacation where I also sold some of my books at the Artwalk event in Alpine, Texas. Now that I’m back, I actually have to do work again, like this article. And after reviewing my list of articles to write, I realized I didn’t feel like writing any of them.

I realize that I have a list so that I can write things, not so that I can muse on what I want to write. If I don’t know what to write about, I go to the list and select one. That’s the way I can get things done. And it might be the only way for me. Everyone has a different method for writing, and mine is quite “brute force”. If I have an idea floating around, I write the idea down, and then I pick it up later in time for my deadline. This works most of the time. Except this time, because I have missed my deadline even as I write this. Still, it does work quite often.

I have no idea why that is. It never seems like just sitting in front of a computer screen or staring at a blank piece of paper and saying to myself ‘be creative’ would work. But it does for me, and I know that for the vast majority of people it doesn’t. And it’s weird that it only works for creative things: in school I got things done early. I never worried about studying because I never needed to. And in what work I have done I get it done at a good time, or sometimes never if I don’t want to. In any of those cases I don’t ever have to force myself. I will either do it or not.

Creativity does come easy for me, but not the creation of a finished product. I can’t tell you how many book synopses I have written and scattered about that could only possibly be made into books if I spent the rest of my life writing. I love ideas and doing different and new things, which is why I have so many comic strips, but also why I have a problem with them.

I just have to sit down and force myself to make them every week. And that’s something I couldn’t do with a lot of other things (like empty the dishwasher). I guess that’s a good thing(?) But here I am writing about this, instead of one of the many things on my list which I now think will require quite a bit more research than initially anticipated. Or I could just wing it.

My experience has shown me that whatever the case, I won’t do fun things for fun. I have to force myself to create. Then, sitting back, and looking at all I’ve done makes it worth having forced myself to go through it.

Where to Start…

So… I’m gonna talk… About stuff…

But seriously, this article isn’t going to be my usual article (is it too late to say I’m mainly a humor writer? My latest blog/article posts make me think it’s too late.) Not that this’ll be sad or anything, just different.

Now, I’ll be the second to tell you I’m not the smartest in the world (the people I know who are in school would be the first), but I think I can be a reasonably insightful person. And when I start writing I can write (type) like there’s no tomorrow (but there are hand cramps). The real problem is knowing where to start. Over the years I’ve developed many theories and views that intertwine to the extent that I have no idea where to even begin to explain them, because each piece requires another piece to fully comprehend. The ideal “book” in that case would be circular, one where it simply starts somewhere and then ends in that same place. Even more ideally, the language and concepts would be simple enough that one could simply jump in anywhere and start reading until they looped back around to that point.

Unfortunately, due to the very reason that so many things relate to each other, a book like this would end up being much less like a circle and more like a choose-your-own-adventure book, or a food web, with many complex ideas growing from or branching off of smaller “stepping-stone” or “building-block” ideas.

But what are these ideas that form the basis of all other ideas? Is the idea of a language to communicate ideas the basic idea, or merely a tangential one? And there are even more basic ideas even further down. And higher “ranking” ideas are necessary to understand the smaller ones. We’d need a word made up of letters to express the idea that perhaps a letter is the smallest idea. It isn’t, but that’s what we’d need. The problem here is that new ideas are infinitely majuscule and miniscule. In science (or all of the physical world, really) a Planck-length is the shortest measurable distance, there is nothing smaller, nothing ever gets smaller or acts over a smaller distance. But in our minds we can easily imagine something say… Half the size.

Now what does this have to do with my inability to figure out where to start? Well, first off, it showcases my ability to write something completely tangential to what I intended to talk about whenever I feel I am unable to start something. It also really means that there is no good place to start anything. There are an infinite amount of topics to discuss that could lead to greater understanding of the central (undefined at the moment) topic. Of course, this also means there are an infinite amount of topics that could lead to misunderstanding of the topic as well, and that infinity is likely larger.

Now looking at what I have just written, infinity seems quite large, and diving into something that could lead to infinity seems quite daunting. But I find that the projects I simply start end up being better than all other projects (mainly in that they aren’t really projects until they’re started). So, I guess that’s really the answer: just start, start anywhere, you don’t need a good place, and if you find the “best” place retroactively, place it in front. Make things better, work at them, but start anywhere. Starting is better than staring at the monolith of work in your mind and doing nothing.

Of course you might like to start at the monolith.