Years ago, I lent my copy of Some People Can't Surf to someone in Edmonton's design community. I'd honestly like to have it back, but the trouble is I can't remember who I lent it to.

Suddenly, the world was paying attention to a collective from Toronto, every band from Montreal, a country singer from Alberta, and a literary band from Winnipeg.

Every independent practice has a design graveyard. Not because the ideas weren't any good, but because timelines, budgets, or circumstance got in the way

Dusty Rhodes should not have worked. Not on paper, anyway.

The work wasn't designed to stay pristine. It was meant to be used.

The people I enjoy working with are already making good things. Sometimes they just need someone else to see what they've built, to give it a form that reflects the care they've already put into it.