Monday, May 9, 2011

Health Care Schematic Designs

PROJECT OBJECTIVE: 

Create several schematic design options for a health care clinic to serve your community. 



Solution One focused on an older clientele- a more calm, sophisticated, muted palette.



Solution Two was more family friendly. Colorful, engaging, exciting.
Making the health care experience of a child that of a positive one.



Solution Three - Variations on the first two palettes and solutions.




Click the photo to enlarge.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Meanest Mother in the World

Mothers. They are there from the beginning and continue to shadow you throughout life. From a young age I admired her and turned to her softness and warmth every time I was hurt, sad, scared or frustrated. When I was older I tried to rebel and push away to gain my independence. As much as I tried to push away I found my mother tried even harder to pull me closer. Even throughout the rough years she loved me. Now that I'm older, I see my mother as a my best friend and I still run to her for advice and that much needed hug. Especially since finals are just around the corner and this is always a stressful time of year. I call my mother 2-3 times a day some days.. "When all else fails call up momma"...

Mothers are mothers no matter how old or young you are. Appreciate the time you have with them and always, ALWAYS tell them you love them. I love you momma. You are my everything. Thank you for making me the person I am today.  

Here is a poem that my mother referenced anytime I didn't think my life was fair..
And I couldn't have asked for a better "meaner" mom!





Meanest Mother In The World by Bobbie Pingaro  

I had to have cereal, eggs or toast. When others had cokes and candy for lunch, I had to 
eat a sandwich.  As you can guess, my supper was different than the other kids' also.
But at least, I wasn't alone in my sufferings.  My brothers had the same mean mother as I did.
 
My mother insisted upon knowing where we were at all times.   You'd think we were on a chain gang.  
She had to know who our friends were and where we were going.  She insisted if we said 
we'd be gone an hour, that we be gone one hour or less--not one hour and one minute.
Now you can begin to see how mean she really was.

We had to wear clean clothes and take a bath.  The other kids always wore their clothes for days.  
We reached the height of insults because she made our clothes herself, just to save 
money.  Why, oh why, did we have to have a mother who made us feel different from our friends?

The worst is yet to come.  We had to be in bed by nine each night and up at eight the next morning.  
We couldn't sleep till noon like our friends.  So while they slept-my mother actually had the nerve to 
break the child-labor law.  She made us work.  We had to wash dishes, make beds, learn to cook 
nd all sorts of cruel things.  I believe she laid awake at night thinking up mean things to do to us.

She always insisted upon us telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, even if it 
killed us- and it nearly did.  By the time we were teen-agers, she was  much wiser, and our life
became even more unbearable.  None of this tooting the horn of a car for us to come running.  
She embarrassed us to no end by making our dates and friends come to the door to get us.  
If I spent the night with a girlfriend, can you imagine she checked on me to see if I were really
there.  I never had the chance to elope to Mexico.  That is if I'd had a boyfriend to elope with. 

I forgot to mention, while my friends were dating at the mature age of 12 and 13, my old fashioned 
mother refused to let me date until the age of 15 and 16.  Fifteen, that is, if you dated only to go to 
a school function.  And that was maybe twice a year.

Through the years, things didn't improve a bit.  We could not lie in bed, "sick" like our friends 
did, and miss school.  If our friends had a toe ache, a hang nail or serious ailment, they could 
stay home from school.  Our marks in school had to be up to par.  Our friends' report cards 
had beautiful colors on them, black for passing, red for failing.  My mother being as different as
she was, would settle for nothing less than ugly black marks.

As the years rolled by, first one and then the other of us was put to shame.  We were graduated 
from high school.   With our mother behind us, talking, hitting and demanding respect, none 
of us was allowed the pleasure of being a drop-out.

And whom do we have to blame for the terrible way we turned out?  You're right, our mean mother.  
Look at the things we missed. 

She forced us to grow up into God-fearing, educated, honest adults.  I will stand a little taller and 
I will be filled with pride when my children call me mean.  

Because, you see, I thank God, He gave me the meanest mother in the whole world.



Monday, May 2, 2011

Palette One | Health Care Facility Spring 2011

The goal was to create a palette that felt more like home than a health care setting.
Click on the photo to enlarge.



Palette One