Red lips, rouged cheeks, and that certain je ne sais quoi that is oh-so-French, Valerie Galloway's giclee prints capture the glamor and spirit of post-war Paris. Saturated in pattern and charm and the pull of delicate nostalgia, you can almost see the yellowed, worn-edged family photos which inspired her. What an uncommon find I just discovered at UncommonGoods.

I don't know if I envy Eric Olmstead more for his insane talent or his extensive travels. His work is so vivid in color and detail, so powerful in narrative, and so pop art and animated, I almost expected a few onomatopoeias: POW! CRRACK! WHAM! KER-SPLASH! From being drugged and robbed in Ecuador to finding himself in Sydney to backpacking in the Philippines, Eric's artwork brings you with, so you can imagine hiking the Inca trail alongside. For anyone bitten by the travel bug, you know that Wanderlust always calls. Eric Olmstead answered.

I stare at the flashing cursor, tongue-tied and stupefied-- outwitted by the subject. How to write about a project which is at once worthy and fundamental, and arrestingly, profoundly beautiful? The Reconstructionists features a different trailblazing woman every Monday who has "reconstructed ... our understanding of ourselves, the world, and our place in it." It's a hefty feat, but if anyone could pull it off it's surely the talented team of illustrator Lisa Congdon and writer Maria Popova.

The project begins with a cartoonist, the original soul sister, a timeless diarist, an inventor/actress, an author/art collector, and an abstract-expressionist painter -- iconic and provocative women who played, performed, and permeated meaning, better known as Lynda Barry, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Anais Nin, Hedy Lamarr, Gertrude Stein, and Agnes Martin, respectively.

The illustrated portraits, hand-lettered quotes, and accompanying micro-essays are as vibrant and compelling as the women they honor. Hats off ladies.

I made a styrofoam solar system in 4th grade; I've seen Star Wars. But, it wasn’t until a recent visit to NASA’s Kennedy Space Center that I gave the final frontier much thought.

I meandered through the rocket garden, the Hubble telescope display, and the recreated control room of the ‘50s with its ashtrays and white-collared men calculating in a room of blinking lights. I saw the Falcon 9 launch light up the dark sky en route to the International Space Station. And the elusive concept of space began to take hold. I imagined and contemplated.



And since that visit, I force myself to realize that even on sunny days, irrespective of warm blues and greens, we are floating in silent blackness. These images are part of the Smithsonian’s immense collection of drawings, paintings, and prints chronicling the American space program. Enjoy them, for they, and all our accomplishments, truly are far out!

With over 1000 images, a carnival of mediums (water color, oil, collage, marker, and ink), and a retro dont-blame-me-when-it-gets-stuck-in-your-head kind of song, Reeo Zerko's stop-motion animation will make your lips curl in delight. As if this weren't enough, below the fold are images of the incomprehensible talent which drips (like my drool) from each page of his sketchbook. Damn he's good.

I tried, obstinately, to follow his drawn line- eye glued to the screen, furrowed brow. But try as I might, I must report that I remain uncertain if Will Scobie lifts his pen. Fluid and intricate, I'm quite sure you'll enjoy his endless sketchbook drawings as much as I did.

Amelie Petit Moreau was born on a sunny afternoon in 1987. The style of her ink on paper sketches reminds me of primitive cave drawings - thick strokes suggesting shapes and figures. But her work is sexy in its roughness, even when the subject is a kitchen sink or a box on a pedestal table.