Pink Pearl” and More Art Supplies

Pink Pearl Eraser

In the previous post, Bill Stewart’s “Pink Pearl” eraser was there among his art supplies. That brand of eraser was not just an art tool it was used by all. I got curious about its origin and found — the science!
On June 17, 2019, Ray Hahn wrote this: (Search: Bottle Caps and Pink Pearl Erasers)
The Eber­hard Faber Company opened America’s first pencil factory in New York City in 1861 on a plot of land now occu­pied by the United Nations. It is uncer­tain when the eraser was invented, but in general terms, Joseph Priestly (the same man who discov­ered Oxygen) is frequently given credit for the eraser.
The history of the Pink Pearl eraser is much better docu­mented. It was invented in 1848 in Germany when Eber­hard Faber’s grand­fa­ther, Casper, decided that a new method of erasing wayward graphite marks (not, lead) might be achieved by using rubber. Erasers have been an impor­tant piece of writing history, but the pencil and the eraser were at first, two different tools. It was Faber who first added erasers to his pencils and he did so some­time after a new factory was built in the Green­point section of Brooklyn in 1872.
The magic ingre­dient in the Pink Pearl is volcanic ash from Italy. When mixed with rubber, it is the pumice in the ash that gives the eraser its unique smell. Unlike poorly formu­lated erasers that loosen and remove paper fibers, the Pink Pearl erases by cleaning the surface. It is elemen­tary science, which demon­strates that erasers don’t just work manu­ally; they also work chem­i­cally. ?Pencils work because, when they are put to paper, their graphite mingles with the fiber parti­cles in the paper. Erasers work because the poly­mers that are used in manu­fac­turing them are stickier than the parti­cles of paper. It’s that simple, graphite parti­cles end up getting stuck to the eraser instead of the paper. Erasers are liter­ally sticky graphite magnets. (This article appeared in an earlier form in the South Jersey Post­card Club’s McClin­tock Letter of October 2014, page 6.)
And More Art Tools

I have contributed photos of a lot of my old art tools to the “Museum of Lost Art Supplies” as we show in the column on the left under “Places We Like”. This is still a great collec­tion to look over.
Recently with the extra time and a few items still to send in – I found that the site was not respon­sive in accepting addi­tional items. After several attempts, I reached Lou Brooks.

Lou wrote:
Hey, Hi Ann! Sorry it took a while to get back to you. Lots of changes. Clare and I moved to McMin­nville Oregon almost a year ago, and we’re still chasing our own tails to catch up. Now, the CO-VID! But on we all go. My orig­inal provider has made it diffi­cult to get the Museum of Forgotten Art Supplies site to do us much good these days. I value your contribs and friend­ship, Ann, and strongly request you sign up on FB for my Forgotten Art Supplies Forum Pushing 4,000 enthu­si­astic members and climbing. With stellar results… tons of post­ings, and plenty of back and forth helpful dialog. All seem to enjoy it immensely. I enjoy you posts, and would love to see your stuff up there.
Just sign up and I’ll put you right in.
Lou Brooks

I don’t do Face­book but I slipped my collectible into Richard’s FB account —to place these two exam­ples with my written descrip­tion. It went up quickly on the “Forgotten Art Supplies Forum”. I was surprised as I received twelve comments about my submis­sion. Lou Brook’s new Face­book collec­tion shows items that are in addi­tion than those on his previous site.

(We are keeping the orig­inal “Museum” on this site. It is still inter­ac­tive for viewing the exten­sive collec­tions but it doesn’t accept new addi­tions.) Or use this link.

I’ve thought of another subject – the Flo-master felt tip pen and its ink.
This attrac­tive felt-tip pen could be filled and re-filled. It was avail­able before Magic Markers and other markers appeared in art stores.

The beauty of this pen was that I could control the wet or dryness of the strokes to the paper. As you pressed the felt tip a few times to a surface, ink would flow into it. When the felt tip became partially dry, subtle shading was possible. I used it often in life drawing classes and I carried it when sketching outdoors.
This sketch, above, I made on a land­scape sketching field trip in the summer of 1961 – a summer class at the Academy of Art (founded in 1929 by Richard S. Stephens) Mr. Stephens was leading us there on SF’s Tele­graph Hill. At the end of class, all were invited to a coffee shop (where Scoma’s Restau­rant is now) —where “Pappy Stephens” held court.

I mentioned the pen to Bill Stewart and I was surprised that he, too, remem­bered it as a favorite tool.
Bill Stewart wrote:
I was going to send a Pix of a Flo-Master Pen. A pre Magic Marker refill­able felt pen. When I was a student, Robert Fawcett gave a lecture. Of course, everyone wanted to know what he used for his beau­tiful, powerful illus­tra­tions. He said a Flo-master pen. After that, all the art supply stores sold out of Flo-masters. Actu­ally Flo-masters were orig­i­nally intended for use as sign markers in the retail stores. Later, a tool for NYC subway taggers.

This was my SF office/studio room —with lovely “North light”! (1 Lombard Street, where Battery Street met the Embar­cadero.) On November 6, 1997, I dragged my chairs, drawing board, lamps, two file cabi­nets and all of my art supplies —home.
Art supplies that I was sure I was going to need.
Now, I need to send photos of the last of my collec­tion of art tools— to the “Forgotten Art Supplies Forum”.

Ann Thompson


Oddments from the files of an AD’s log book.

I was working for Bots­ford, Constan­tine and McCarty, soon to become Bots­ford, Ketchum. We just moved into a building near Market Street. I think it was called The Jones bldg. but not sure. The time was around 1968ish. I think we were at this new loca­tion for about three or four months and we were getting comfort­able with new spaces. We were located on the 8th or 9th floor as I remember it. On a Friday after­noon about 4:30 everyone was winding down for the weekend. The art direc­tors we’re putting away their Magic Markers scat­tered all over in their office along with ellipse guides, numerous trian­gles, French curves, T‑squares and all the other “stuff” that proclaimed them as art direc­tors. Without the stuff, you ain’t no art director. If you didn’t have the stuff, they would call you a creative director or an account guy some­thing. (One time a writer came into the art depart­ment and said, “The only reason you guys have a job as art direc­tors is because you have all the STUFF”)… and looking back, I think he might have been right.

The illus­trator that did the sketch was Dick Brown In Seattle. I really liked his work, nice and loose. He caught the char­acter of each person really well. I noticed everyone ended up with huge hands, however. I guess that was kind of his style.

Anyway, as I was finishing the orga­ni­za­tion process, Brian Barnes walks into my office and points to a salmon fishing pole I had been using for a prop for an Olympia Beer photo. He asks, how do you cast with those level-wind reels? I said, you just need to keep your thumb over the line as the reel is spin­ning while the line is playing out. When the bait is near the water, you stop the spin with your thumb so you don’t get a back­lash of line if the reel is still spin­ning. Well, it was late Friday so I said, here, I’ll give you a demon­stra­tion. Open the window. (We had really big windows that you could still open). I put a Pink Pearl eraser on the end of the line for a little weight and cast it out the window. The line sailed out over the street below in a beau­tiful arc and I stopped the reel with my thumb. The Pink Pearl stopped mid air and grace­fully swung back and bounced off the building wall for another show of ballet like motion. That was impres­sive but it needed just a little more weight to show Brian how a proper cast really looks. We asked the guys who were loitering near my office if they had anything for a weight and they came up with a plastic chicken from a BBQ display sample for Olympia Beer. A little large but the right weight. We fixed the line to the plastic chicken and cast again. The chicken flew straight and true and was soaring high above the busy street below. A beau­tiful sight to see. A chicken flying high over Wells Fargo for a few seconds and then slowly arcing down to take on the speed of some­thing that resem­bled a raptor. The chicken/raptor swung back to hit the building wall and again bounce back for a final show of aero­batics. Now, the last cast was so good, much more line was released and the chicken was now very low above the busy side­walk. I would esti­mate it to be maybe about 4 to 8 feet above the people below. The clear fishing line was almost invis­ible and now it appears like this BBQ’d plastic chicken is levi­tating just a few feet above all the pedes­trians… but no one notices. Quite a sight. As we were reeling up the chicken, someone in one of offices below had an umbrella out the window, trying to snag the chicken but we success­fully avoided the kidnap attempt and retrieved the chicken. At that point it became more than just a lesson in casting so we wrote a note on a post-it that stated “PLEASE IGNORE THE CHICKEN.” We care­fully lowered the chicken back to the kidnapers window, the umbrella came out again and the chicken was rudely was pulled inside. Well, we just lost our chicken. They didn’t ignore it as instructed. After a few minutes the line was released with a new note attached. We reeled it back up and the note read: “WHAT CHICKEN ?” The next day Herb Caen wrote in his column about a levi­tating chicken of unknown origin was spotted across from Wells Fargo. I kept the article but lost it years ago. Maybe I can find it in the Chron.‘s archive sometime.

Bill Stewart

A Walk Into History

In the mid 1970s to the early ‘80s, I coör­di­nated a very inter­esting docu­men­tary art program for the National Park Service. The program had been going on between the New York Society of Illus­tra­tors and the National Park Service in Wash­ington D.C.
I had received word that they wanted to include a profes­sional art society on the west coast into their program ”Artists In The Parks”.
A ‘Parks’ offi­cial flew out from Wash­ington D.C. to meet me to discuss the program and their needs.
Fortu­nately our Society of Illus­tra­tors was having an annual exhibit in the lobby of the Crown Zeller­bach Building at the same time. After having wined and dined him, I took him to see the illus­tra­tion exhibit. He was very impressed with the caliber of talent in the San Fran­cisco Society of Illus­tra­tors. Two days after he flew back, I received a phone call. We were a part of the program!
The San Fran­cisco illus­tra­tors that chose to travel and create paint­ings for the National Parks Collec­tion were:

1‑Jim Sanford (not shown) 2‑Chris Kenyon 3‑Dave Grove 4‑Earl Thol­lander (not shown) 5‑Norm Nicholson 6‑Suzanne Siminger (not shown) 7‑John Ruther­ford (not shown) 8‑Ray Ward 9‑Bill Shields 10-Dick Cole (not shown) 11-Joe Cleary 12-Ed Diff­end­erfer 13-Robert Bausch (not shown).

I was asked to assign those artists willing to travel and partic­i­pate in the program to a national park or monu­ment in the U.S. Upon their return, an artist would produce one or two paint­ings with complete freedom to express their inter­pre­ta­tion of the park they had visited.
One assign­ment that I had, included trav­eling to Glacier Bay National Monu­ment, Alaska and Klondike National Historic Park in Skagway. Skagway, Alaska, in 1976 was a quiet village and tourism was minimal.
Upon my arrival, in a conver­sa­tion with one of the resi­dents, I told him my purpose for being there. He imme­di­ately suggested an after­noon excur­sion for my wife and me. Our guide offered to take us to a ghost town called Dyea, site of the starting point for the gold prospec­tors in the 1898 Yukon gold rush. We accepted his offer and found ourselves bouncing over and old dirt road for miles in his truck. We climbed up and over a moun­tain until we came to a spot where the road ended. “Now we have to hike in, the rest of the way”, our guide said.
My wife and I looked at each other with appre­hen­sion. The only thing visible was thick brush and heavy timber ahead. I told my wife that I would fall back behind her and our guide as we hiked in, as a safety measure. Was this guy for real or had we accepted a ride from a possible Klondike mass murderer? The thoughts went through my head.
After about a half-mile hike through mosquito-infested brush, we suddenly came into a clearing. There before us were a number of old deserted cabins from the 1898 gold rush. Many cabins still contained remains of furni­ture and some uten­sils on the tables. We saw an old gravesite with sixty head stones. This was at the base of the steep Chilkoot ice steps that the miners climbed on their way to the gold fields of the Yukon. As the story has been told, the miners waited for days to climb the ice steps, single file and burdened down with all their gear. On one occa­sion, one slipped and fell – – bringing the others down with him, resulting in the deaths of sixty miners. All now buried in that graveyard.
After safely returning that after­noon to Skagway, we reflected on what we had expe­ri­enced that after­noon. The whole expe­ri­ence of that after­noon directed me to a different approach to the art I later produced. I created a large assem­blage, depicting the history and the events of that area.

For the Glacier Bay assign­ment, I painted one of the massive glac­iers. I was trying to capture the quiet­ness of this vast land­scape. The quiet, once in awhile, only broken by the roar of an ice cliff collapsing into the bay, called “caving”.
Norman Nicholson

An Other-Worldly Experience”
Artist Robert Bausch was born in 1938 in San Fran­cisco and grew up in Cali­fornia. After grad­u­ating from college he was an art director for several adver­tising agen­cies in San Fran­cisco before he launched a free­lance design and illus­tra­tion busi­ness in 1968. He has always had a strong interest in avia­tion, and has produced many paint­ings of aircraft, which led to his partic­i­pa­tion in the Air Force Art Program. He also made several paint­ings for the US Navy and NASA.

In 1979 the National Park Service commis­sioned him to travel to Carlsbad Caverns as part of the Artist-In-Residence Program, where he produced sketches on the spot, down in the caverns. Bausch had never been to Carlsbad before, and found being under­ground for hours at a time to be an unfor­get­table expe­ri­ence. This was also the first time he had been to the South­west, and the sweeping land­scapes made a lasting impres­sion. Bausch reflects on his time in the cave:

The expe­ri­ence of visiting Carlsbad Caverns was surely one of the most unusual ones I’ve ever had. What an aston­ishing thing the caverns are! It would have been different enough just being there. But the fact that I was actu­ally working “down below,” drawing and thinking about what I was drawing, in this very strange and awesome place, was quite a treat for the senses. Every morning after break­fast for four days I went down and sat on a camp­stool and started sketching. This was early in the day, and very few other people were about, if any. Down here was a truly magical world, the prehis­toric depths of our planet. The lighting was very subdued, and it was extremely quiet, except for the sound of drip­ping water, echoing from unseen cham­bers around me, as the process of the forma­tion of the caverns continued. I will never forget this other-worldly experience.”
Bausch created a series of impres­sion­istic pen-and-ink render­ings on illus­tra­tion board and paper of various areas in the cave, and donated a total of nine large draw­ings. Some of the draw­ings were executed using only detailed hatched ink lines, while others were enhanced with ink washes. Each drawing also has a line of hand-written text at the bottom describing the loca­tion. Docu­menting the process of a drawing with text as part of the finished image was very popular in the 1970s.
Lois Manno

In 2009, Lois Manno, who at the time had been volun­teering at Carlsbad Caverns for 15 years, and has been involved with the National Park Service for many years, published a beau­tiful book, Visions Under­ground, which chron­i­cles various artist’s involve­ment with Carlsbad Caverns, and the art they have produced as a result. 4 of Bausch’s draw­ings are featured in the book.
Robert Bausch

Assign­ment: Harpers Ferry Histor­ical National Park, WV
SFSI member, Ed Diffenderfer

Dick and I phoned Ed who described the trip in the Fall of 1970. He said that before leaving home, Mary Ann planned an extended stay. They would rent a car and touch on selected loca­tions in that region of our country.

When they arrived at Harpers Ferry, viewing and taking many photos, Ed said that the history of both; that loca­tion and aboli­tionist John Brown, combined in deter­mining his illustration.
[Mary Ann, was a commer­cial artist before she turned her talents to writing. She has had a number of books published. This from her recent email to us: “I have a novel coming out soon (September) about a woman artist — “All Kinds of Beauty”.”]
She suggested that I search the life story of John Brown.

Here, first, is Ed Diffenderfer’s painting.

Following Ed’s painting (and a photo of Ed from the 2001 SFSI Reunion) I show images that I have found about John Brown—
‑the man: Born May 9, 1800, ancestry back to 17th-century English Puri­tans, and from a staunchly Calvinist and anti­slavery family. Father of 20 chil­dren (some sons, were also aboli­tion­ists). Many years involved with the Under­ground Rail­road and other anti-slavery efforts.
‑the Harpers Ferry Raid that he insti­gated: On the evening of October 16, 1859, Brown led 21 men on a raid of the federal armory of Harpers Ferry in Virginia (now West Virginia). Holding dozens of men hostage his followers gath­ered the stored guns with the plan of inspiring slaves to march north, to freedom.
Brown’s forces held out for two days but they were even­tu­ally defeated by mili­tary forces led by Robert E. Lee. Many of Brown’s men were killed, including two of his sons, and he was captured.
‑and the price he paid: — hanged — for his attempt to abolish slavery in the years before the Civil War.

Visiting West Virginia at that time of the year, Ed said that they found the trees were showing their ulti­mate of colors. He said that they drove a lot, stop­ping at the chosen loca­tions, such as Norman Rockwell’s orig­inal: home-studio / museum in Stock­bridge, Massachusetts.
Ed said that the collec­tion, there, offered the chance to see the detail of the brush­strokes on paint­ings never seen when repro­duced in halftone printing.
The Diff­end­er­fers trav­eled as far as Rock­port, MA and then it was soon time to return to Cali­fornia and start painting.

Yosemite and Mount McKinley National Park
G. Dean Smith studied at Pratt Insti­tute in New York and the Art Center School in Los Angeles before opening a graphic design firm in San Fran­cisco in 1959. It was in 1962 — for San Francisco’s ABC outlet, KGO-TV, that he designed (known as the Circle 7 logo) – the first of the trade­mark symbols that were to make him known nationally.

Confer­ence of National Park Concessioners
For this leaflet shown: “Welcome to your park” — Dick Moore was asked by G. Dean Smith to show the various services avail­able for visi­tors during their stay in the US National Parks.

Welcome to the Tetons
Line art of a section of a full moun­tain range — Dick created this line drawing for a folder about the Grand Tetons for G. Dean Smith. The year and details are forgotten. Just this sample remains.

Norm Nicholson and Robert Bausch supplied the stories of their experiences.
Then, with a phone call to Ed Diff­end­erfer, I was able to present the third National Park Service, “Artists In The Parks” report.
The other samples, here, were not part of the SFSI project.
G. Dean Smith’s trade­marks for the NPS were designed in 1968 –for the Yosemite Park & Curry Co. and in 1970 –for the Mount McKinley National Park.
The assign­ments that Dean gave to Dick Moore in the 1970s show other graphic designs required by the Confer­ence of National Park Concessioners.
To show the loca­tions of the parks described, I added the maps from Google.

Ann Thompson

Job Changes

When many of those who worked commer­cially, came to the time to make a change or retire, they usually stepped into another avenue related to their talent: fine arts painting, personal photog­raphy, sculp­ture, writing, deco­ra­tive wear, event designing & plan­ning, profes­sional crafts, book design, teaching, theatre and more. Their unique talents, perfected through the years, were valu­able in pursuing their new interests.

Bruce Wolfe
When Bruce Wolfe switched full-time, from 2D illus­tra­tion to 3D sculp­ture — he surprised many in our ‘graphics’ circles. Bruce had a wide range of painting styles. This move, out of the commer­cial adver­tising arena, gave a huge opening to others. Here is Bruce’s sculp­ture of photog­ra­pher Ed Zak – and I show Ed Zak in 2006.

Chris Blum
In the 1960s and ‘70s— ‘Levi’s Brand’ in San Fran­cisco — many of us think: Chris Blum!
There were Levi’s posters, ads, and TV commer­cials (from Dancer Fitzgerald and Sample) like this one:

Now, his favorite art form is boxes – – that make you stop, and ques­tion, and wonder!
You can see Chris Blum’s websites in our list­ings: “Still in The Game” and “Artist’s Sites” in the columns at left and right.

David Broad
Dave Broad has said: “I found my heart and wife in San Fran­cisco”. He also found a long and successful oppor­tu­nity – he joined Land­phere Asso­ciates. Dave found that art studio was full of great people – and Max Land­phere, was a close friend. There, Dave created humorous Illus­tra­tions. After many years, Dave decided that it was time to start free­lancing. Time to be working from home, as his third child was due to arrive there. His light-hearted Illus­tra­tions continued to grace many publi­ca­tions. When he stepped away from commer­cial work, that was his chance to show his water­color talents — from the classic water­color styles to bright abstracts.

Jack Allen
We posted a full story of Jack Allen’s photog­raphy, previ­ously. I missed showing this sample of his 1965 “Lucky Lager” photog­raphy. This time we empha­size his change from photog­raphy to painting. The style of his paint­ings are now subjects for jig-saw puzzles: “Company Town” (500 pieces) and “Nob Hill” (1000 pieces) are shown – very popular for all ages who are now staying close to their homes.

Kirsten Tirsbak Nusser
Kirsten arrived from Denmark in late 1965, and worked for Psychology Today Maga­zine in San Diego and design studios in LA.
I first met Kirsten when I joined Barnum Commu­ni­ca­tions, later FCB, in 1976. For many years we both covered medical ad agency needs as art direc­tors, graphic designers and layout artists. (Shown: a medical journal ad for Aleve® and the Genen­tech HER2 Patient Educa­tion Brochure (Cancer) –for which Kirsten won an RX Award.)
During many big campaigns, we were often working nights and week­ends, after everyone else had gone home! After I left FCB health­care in 1995, Kirsten stayed, and was employed there as Art Director, until retiring in early 2001. Then her time became open — to design jewelry (and she also teaches jewelry-making). Kirsten said she espe­cially enjoyed designing the back­drops and coming up with fun ideas for this event in 2019: Speak Easy Night Club, for the St. Francis Yacht Club in San Francisco.

Mik Kita­gawa
Here was another move to sculp­ture. Mik Kita­gawa worked at various ad agen­cies in San Francisco.
He started in print, got into TV at Y&R on Goodyear. When he moved to other agen­cies he did both TV and print.
This entry into the SFSCA 1974 compe­ti­tion won him a gold medal.
Once on his own, he found many loca­tions to sculpt. I didn’t know Mik at the time, except for his appear­ances at McGovern’s on Vallejo Street. Then he would attend the Geezer Gath­er­ings. Richard and I visited one of his “open-studios” and we purchased this figure. This bronze piece, Mik titled: “Romeo and…”.

Norm Nicholson
Just recently we received a note from Norm Nicholson. I have posted his illus­tra­tions, but now he is writing his memoirs.
Norm’s note to me:

Hi Ann
I knew you were a native of San Fran­cisco. That is a great story of your mother working in the defense industry in Rich­mond. She was one of the orig­inal Rosie the Riveters. You have to start writing your memoirs with all the years of growing up in SF. Or you prob­ably have started.
I have to get back to it myself as I have let the pen drop so to speak. I have written a lot of memoir mate­rial as I had been in several writing work­shops. It’s really for my Grand­son’s and Grand daugh­ters, who would enjoy them.

Rory Phoenix
I would see Rory Phoenix, also at McGovern’s. I knew that he was in adver­tising but I didn’t know of his copy­writing talent. That was back in the 1980s. I remember seeing the ”Pin Drop” commer­cial on TV.
I changed my lunch spots when McGovern’s became a ‘fern bar’ called “Grumpy’s”— so I no longer saw these ad men at lunchtime. Then in 2010, in our Marin Inde­pen­dent Journal, I saw Rory Phoenix again — a painter!
I was able to reach Rory and he sent this:
“McGovern’s” late 70s early 80s was an era of long lunches. I remember the owner Seamus poured very generous drinks.
I worked at JWT ‘til ‘87 and left for Chicago, then NY in ‘87. Came back to JWT 9 – 32000. Painted all my life and was an art director ‘til the Mac turned layout into a commodity and became all about Photo­shop. Copy­writing always seemed easier. Heck, I wrote half the scripts and head­lines anyway.
I continue to work remotely where age doesn’t seem to matter. I think the Internet gave a lot of us “geezers” a fresh oppor­tu­nity, after they’d shunted us out when we started looking too much like “Dad”.

You can see Rory Phoenix’s websites in our list­ings: “Still in The Game” and “Artist’s Sites” in the columns at left and right.

With so many at home and not sure of being employed again – – I find that, very much like the time that I had to retire before retire­ment age. It was 1996 and I was age 55 when I moved out of my studio located in San Fran­cisco. It was not: “Now, what else can I do?” it was “I know what I need to do”.
I became a care­giver. I had already been assisting my aunt who had been on her own for nine years. I had been able to stop by “in the avenues” after work. So helping my aunt, taking on some free-lance jobs and other family matters filled my time. But then from 2002 to 2011, my mother needed my help.
Care giving starts with the closing down of residences.
(Totally out of my realm of expe­ri­ence) was the “first job” – – when a small mobile home that I sold through a realtor – was aban­doned before the full payment. The prop­erty had been wrecked and my “trusted” realtor turned her back on me. I needed to refur­bish, adver­tise and make the appoint­ments and show the prop­erty, and sell the mobile home. I even wrote a new sales agree­ment that incor­po­rated the rules of the mobile home park with the legal require­ments for selling. This is just to say that, when you have a new task, you can tackle it.
All this was before the time when daily health-care was needed full time.

Senior-care wasn’t in my art instruc­tion, but my past assign­ments in the medical ad agen­cies gave me the interest to illus­trate what I was learning with this new chal­lenge. I also took photos of foods, home­care equip­ment and my mother. (I was lucky that she was always sweet and accepted all that I tried when there were changes made and she required more help.)
As a full time care­giver, I was not making money – but I was saving it. No more free-lance busi­ness expenses, no hired help to our home.
There were those who suggested that my mother be placed in senior home. I couldn’t “not know” what was happening to her daily – or even hourly.

So, as I was learning what was required, I was making a record of every­thing. I was “on the job” as I had been all those years at my drawing board.
My past assign­ments had shown a lot of step-by-step instruc­tions. My past expe­ri­ence with type and photo selec­tion helped when I created a binder of infor­ma­tion. A visiting hospice nurse once suggested that my binder of care would be useful for the Red Cross to share with the public after a natural disaster. Family members might need some easy-to-view instructions.

There were vaca­tions that I had to refuse, but I used the time for family research, family trees, and keeping this Geezer group as an exten­sion of the friends that I had from previous years. After 2011, I continued almost full time with these projects.

The change of job for me, I know now, is that I write. I hadn’t been into writing since my high-school years. Now I’m writing for this Geezers site, computer type designing of family roots, and I wrote a small (48 page) book of my paternal grandparents.
Another big job change for me is that I take digital photos! I have taken thou­sands of shots as we have visited (monthly for 6.5 years) the building of the “Matthew Turner” – – a tribute to the master ship-builder of 228 ships who was related to one of my most favorite persons since 1964: Murray Hunt. I can’t say that I am a “photog­ra­pher” but I am espe­cially enjoying this new job change and also using my favorite tool – – this computer. (But I do still draw on paper.) I even submitted this cartoon to the New Yorker maga­zine. But it was rejected.
My changes did not make money. So many people are looking into what else they can do to bring in income.

Still, at this time, when it is safer to keep family members together — I know that I would again choose being a family caregiver.

Ann Thompson

Heart Art

There was a recent inter­view with Dr. David Katz who co-wrote the book “How To Eat”. He promotes “lifestyle medi­cine”. He worked as a relief support to the doctors in a NYC hospital and described the speed of symp­toms and quick spread of Covid-19. He also mentioned the high risks of the slow — yet inevitable results of heart problems.

Back in the ‘80s, I was given the assign­ment for the following illus­tra­tions to show the “good” and the “bad” in caring for one’s heart. Dr. C. Everett Koop was the US Surgeon General in the years: 1982 – – 1989 and the following was the plan for a “Special Program Co-Sponsored by AMA, ACC and NHLBI”.*
*The Amer­ican Medical Asso­ci­a­tion (founded in 1847), the Amer­ican College of Cardi­ology (1949) and the National Heart, Lung, and Blood Insti­tute (1948).
“Oper­a­tion High Risk Recue” was “A National Physi­cians’ Crusade for Imme­diate Action on High Choles­terol Patients With Heart Disease and Multiple Risks”. This campaign was directed to all physi­cians with patients seeking help.

I was free­lancing with VICOM ASSOCIATES at 901 Battery Street, SF. I was asked by their creative director, Lester Barnett to be inspired for my art style by Geof­frey Moss, the polit­ical illus­trator. My art tool was a black marker; so I was not able repli­cate the crisp pen and ink lines from the deft hand of Mr. Moss. I never did know what written copy or other elements completed this production:

Another “heart” assign­ment was in 1990 for the new part­ner­ship of Vicom / FCB. The job was for a Genen­tech Family Day — Saturday, Sept. 15, 1990. The project was an educa­tional set of three large printed sheets for youths to learn the parts of the heart and the action of blood in the heart. The instruc­tions were given to use certain colors to fill in areas to make it all easy to understand.
I’m not a kid, but after all these years, I decided that I’d color these up. I actu­ally have a newish box of Crayola Crayons and my Pris­ma­color pencils. But now there is this Adobe Photo­shop with colors and paint brush — right in front of me that I could use.
This is – a good way of learning these areas and actions of the heart!

I show a 4‑page layout for Genen­tech, Inc. My “go to” method for quick layouts was sketching the subject with Berol Pris­ma­color pencils smeared with a tissue with “Bestine” thinner (I was warned to wear gloves or wash hand imme­di­ately but who had time?) and high­lighted with white drawing ink in a ruling pen. The 4th page of the layout had red marker added. The 2‑page ad was published in a Medical Journal—the back page shows a 1989 copyright.
I have no knowl­edge of how layouts are created now, when the computer has replace the drawing board.

Heart disease is still the top world­wide health risk — where the source begins within the patient – – inher­ited, a birth defect or the result of a personal lifestyle. The excep­tion – – is an outside expo­sure, like Covid-19, that stresses the heart.

As it was in the past, the present virus pandemic risk – is where the source was (some­where in the world) from just one individual’s occu­pa­tion or lifestyle.
The virus can be from various living crea­tures (monkey, ape, bovine, avian, swine or — ?).
The animal that carries the virus “lives” with it. The virus evolves to adopt a new host, a human that tries to adjust to it and it spreads glob­ally — Its genetic code mutates, evolving more as it travels. So viruses, too, have lifestyles.

Hope­fully, more educa­tion of and atten­tion to risky human “lifestyles” — will iden­tify a virus when it has jumped to that first person — and isolate it immediately.

Ann Thompson