The last thing I could have imagined was that I would someday be designing music-related objects, yet all the signs were there.
It was fairly obvious to me that, from an early age, I not only was devoted to learning to play the violin and flute as well as I could, but that music was at the center of my existence, in a serious way and in some less-than-serious ways. Music-related symbols and objects — certain ones, not all — were so evocative and graceful-looking to me that I wanted them in my surroundings and on my belongings. This was not the easiest thing to accomplish in those days; the choices were extremely limited, often fell into what can only be called the category of kitsch, and were difficult to find, lovely or not.
From having music-related things printed to becoming MissPrinteditions
In junior high school I had a close friend who played the clarinet, loved and was knowledgeable about classical music, and was determined to become a paleontologist. She had personal writing paper with an entire colony of dinosaurs prancing across the letterhead. It turned out that her father worked for a stationery company and, after some begging, could be persuaded to print a large batch of paper and envelopes with my fervently desired, music-related design (of which, I am sorry to say, not one sheet now remains as a souvenir, the casualty of too much intercontinental moving). Attending occasional performances at Lincoln Center always included a visit to one of the gift shops there; the offerings were usually not so satisfying but a nod in the right direction, at least.
Many, many courses of study and professional orchestra gigs later, an overwhelming frustration with the music-related cards to be had — more often than not, stuffy portraits of composers who, though beloved by me, were not the subjects I wanted to have conveying my greetings — led to my experimentation with digital design and, in the early days, producing limited runs on my printer. It was at around that time that I realized how satisfying the act of printing (separate from the designing) was for me, an odd quirk which led to my business name and, thousands of projects on, has abated somewhat in its ability to thrill me. I do not mind at all that others do the printing for me. The designing (and the possibilities of what the designs can be placed on) has continued to the point where I am actually in the position of creating greeting cards and various other products that are, apparently, just what someone else was looking for — a funny parallel journey to have been on all this time without realizing it.