Her words the seeds of the spittle in my throat … her language is yes.

Her words the seeds of the spittle in my throat … her language is yes.

melvillehouse:

You don’t need to be an artist to work in publishing, and you don’t need to be in publishing to work in DUMBO. But when you’re all of those things, you have the chance to finally confront the bane of all artists, publishers, New Yorkers, and anyone lucky/unlucky enough to be all of those things at once. I’m talking, of course, about nihilism.

The suspicion that maybe nobody listens, nobody cares, that maybe nothing you create or talk up impacts anyone, that maybe art is a lie and beauty is a superstition. And the fear that you may hit the point where you’re unable to extract more satisfaction from your art than the energy and hours it takes you to create it. Let’s call this nightmarish moment “Peak Bullshit”.

But when you’re the art director for a house of intensely focused and truly devoted publishing folks like us, you can kiss the spectre of Peak Bullshit goodbye. At Melville House your work is the guide and measurement for our readers; you’ll be working for a crew whose reputation for gorgeous and spiritually nourishing books is second to none. You can’t be new to the business; we’re looking for serious experienced applicants only. But what will be new for you are the opportunities that only we can offer, one of which is the chance to avoid Peak Bullshit once and for all.

Every one of us in the book business goes into it because we want to hold onto the idea that beauty’s a real thing and literature is more than just words on a page. Come show us you’re the same way.

They’re right about that Peak Bullshit moment … it happens to every designer and many of them never escape it. This sounds like a great gig and a great way to have a good time … ALL the time.

melvillehouse:

melvillehouse:

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If you’ve ever found yourself checking out one of our book covers from across the room and thinking “I’d like to get myself all up in that creative process,” look no further. We’re seeking an experienced and passionate art director who’ll be responsible for the entire visual aesthetic of the…

Self-signal-boost - hey book designers of the internet and your compatriots, are you looking for a best-of-all-worlds job? And have given up because this city is a cold barren screamscape of resignation and defeat? Well, good news.

We’re looking for an art director who will take the visual helm of the house that’s got the best-looking list in the business. We hope it’s that art director is you. Details here.

Like Doug Funnie’s lucky hat, this job can only go to the most deserving. But they have to know about it first! So share, like, reblog, tag, send the word out! 

This sounds like a dream gig for young designers!

Eat, ink, and be merry, for tomorrow you may die.

Eat, ink, and be merry, for tomorrow you may die.

If you like to read books while wearing clothes, may I suggest this teeshirt for your next excursion to a poetry reading at your local hipsters’ coffee-house? Simultaneously freak out your parents AND impress your few remaining friends for only $14 USD while this sale lasts … that’s cheaper than joining a cult or smoking banana peels, kids, and a heck of a lot more profitable for me! And frankly, if Pierre Menard had a beard and worked as a barista in Brooklyn, he’d be wearing this teeshirt.

If you like to read books while wearing clothes, may I suggest this teeshirt for your next excursion to a poetry reading at your local hipsters’ coffee-house? Simultaneously freak out your parents AND impress your few remaining friends for only $14 USD while this sale lasts … that’s cheaper than joining a cult or smoking banana peels, kids, and a heck of a lot more profitable for me! And frankly, if Pierre Menard had a beard and worked as a barista in Brooklyn, he’d be wearing this teeshirt.


"When the more courageous Victorian gentleman "came out of the closet," he often found that the contents of his closet had beaten him to it. The amorous gigantism of inanimate objects was that domestic love which dared not speak its name and an Englishman’s trouser pockets or even Gladstone bag was the scene of many a furtive, orgiastic bacchanal such as might have made Caligula blush." — Max Beerbohm

You thought Victorian literature was boring, huh? Get the salacious goods on Carrollian anapests and all the other naughty bits of my GN version of The Hunting of the Snark at my blog or at Melville House.

"When the more courageous Victorian gentleman "came out of the closet," he often found that the contents of his closet had beaten him to it. The amorous gigantism of inanimate objects was that domestic love which dared not speak its name and an Englishman’s trouser pockets or even Gladstone bag was the scene of many a furtive, orgiastic bacchanal such as might have made Caligula blush." — Max Beerbohm

You thought Victorian literature was boring, huh? Get the salacious goods on Carrollian anapests and all the other naughty bits of my GN version of The Hunting of the Snark at my blog or at Melville House.


Each line in this drawing has been curated by an artisanal, free-range surrealist whose most recent appearance on Oprah persuaded a visibly moved Scarlett Johansson to donate the fee from her latest blockbuster film to anyone who could make it all stop.

To read more about my GN version of The Hunting of the Snark, go to my blog or order direct from Melville House.

Each line in this drawing has been curated by an artisanal, free-range surrealist whose most recent appearance on Oprah persuaded a visibly moved Scarlett Johansson to donate the fee from her latest blockbuster film to anyone who could make it all stop.

To read more about my GN version of The Hunting of the Snark, go to my blog or order direct from Melville House.


"… we entered a smoke-filled room of Oxford dons dressed in tattered druidic mufti and mumbling in broken anapests as the one they called Lewis Carroll repeatedly plunged his golden sickle into the sawdust breast of a child’s doll whom he addressed as Mister Chuckles." — Lytton Strachey, Lives of the Eminent Victorians

To further grok the mind-numbing implications of all of the above, read myHunting of the Snark blog or even purchase a copy of my GN version of theSnark, available only from Melville House.

"… we entered a smoke-filled room of Oxford dons dressed in tattered druidic mufti and mumbling in broken anapests as the one they called Lewis Carroll repeatedly plunged his golden sickle into the sawdust breast of a child’s doll whom he addressed as Mister Chuckles." — Lytton Strachey, Lives of the Eminent Victorians

To further grok the mind-numbing implications of all of the above, read myHunting of the Snark blog or even purchase a copy of my GN version of theSnark, available only from Melville House.

They can’t read so they’ll never know how much you hate ‘em when you wear this. Buy the teeshirt here, only $14 for the next 72 hours.

They can’t read so they’ll never know how much you hate ‘em when you wear this. Buy the teeshirt here, only $14 for the next 72 hours.

Buy the teeshirt here, only $14 for the next 72 hours … it makes a great mouth gag or even an ad hoc hood for investment-banker-hostages.

Buy the teeshirt here, only $14 for the next 72 hours … it makes a great mouth gag or even an ad hoc hood for investment-banker-hostages.