is a multi-disciplinary Chicago-based designer and recent graduate in Communication Design from Washington University in St. Louis. My practice exemplifies cohesive visual identities and experimental processes. I enjoy visually telling stories (especially those lesser-known) and creating immersive experiences. When I’m not in my studio, I enjoy thrifting, volunteering at animal shelters, making stickers, and working out.
CARRION explores the idea of book as object, representing the process of decomposition through both its materiality and its design.
Text: Une Charogne(A Carcass) by Charles Baudelaire. Translation by Richard Howard and Harmonie Givens.
Remember, my soul, the thing we saw
that lovely summer day?
On a pile of stones where the path turned off,
the hideous carrion
legs in the air, like a courtesan - displayed,
indifferent to the last,
a belly slick with lethal sweat
and swollen with foul gas.
The sun lit up that rottenness
as though to roast it through,
restoring to Nature a hundredfold
what she had here made one.
And heaven watched the splendid corpse
like a flower open wide -
you nearly fainted dead away
at the perfume it gave off.
Flies kept humming over the guts
from which a gleaming clot
of maggots poured to finish off
what scraps of flesh remained.
The tide of trembling vermin sank,
then bubbled up afresh
as if the carcass, drawing breath,
by their lives lived again
and made a curious music there -
like running water, or wind,
or the rattle of chaff the winnower
loosens in his fan.
Shapeless - nothing was left but a dream
the artist had sketched in,
forgotten, and only later on
finished from memory.
Yet you will come to this offense,
this horrible decay,
you, the light of my life,
the sun and moon and stars of my love!
Yes, you will come to this,
my queen, after the sacraments,
when you rot underground among
the bones already there
But as their kisses eat you up,
my Beauty, tell the worms
I've kept the sacred essence, saved
the form of my rotted loves!
—Carrion, Charles Baudelaire
Process
The Prompt:
Take something that is inherently non-book-like—a street, an object, document, a website, meaningful piece of furniture or heirloom, a neighborhood, etc.—and translate that into the book form. Explore both the two-dimensional page and the book as a sculptural object to bring forth a particular view, statement, or framing of your selected topic.
The Process:
My first idea was to create a book on the process of decomposition, while having the book itself feel like it is decomposing as you read it.
I sourced paper from Kathmandu Valley Co. that had a very natural color and texture that was perfect for the project. In order to add the decomposing feel, I buried the paper outside of my studio and left it to the elements for a few days. It rained heavily, allowing the paper to become caked in the dirt and begin to break down. I tried to use the transparency this created in some spots to my advantage, like letting the word “dead” show through on the spread where the vultures are circling. Instead of trimming the paper with a guillotine or X-Acto knife, I tore excess paper off with my hands, getting rougher with the tears as I went to make the paper feel even more like it was decomposing in your hands. Finally, I chose the typeface Beowulf, which has four fonts, each one more decayed than the last. As the book progressed, I changed the fonts to look like they are degrading as you read.
To make it look more carcass-y, I mangled some book board with my hands and to let the skeletal pages show through.
I added the inscription “we therefore commit this book to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust” at both the beginning and end, to represent the cycle of life and death.
Burying the pages (it rained like crazy for days after this)Spot where the paper broke down a lotTypeface studies