T-squares and X-Acto knives

I used the wander the basement of the BYU bookstore. I deemed it "The Happiest Place on Earth," and no, that had nothing to do with the fact that it was in Provo. You see, the basement is filled with floor-to-ceiling cabinets full of foam core and mat board, sheets of vellum, and slots of ZIG rolling writer felt tip pens; an artist's heaven. I reveled in the fact that I rarely had to wait in long bookstore lines the first few days of school and that instead of buying books, I got to buy colored pencils and architects scales.

Carrying a drawing board to my first drafting class proved to be quite cumbersome, as I lived in the furthest possible apartment from the design building. However, it did come in handy one evening around sundown when the National Anthem began to play. Just as the campus quieted, hands were placed over hearts, and all was still. I wasn't. I couldn't be. I was late and so was my assignment. As walking is frowned upon (anything except standing in place facing the flag pole in Brigham's Square is considered unpatriotic) I used my drawing board to shield my face from the embarrassment of scuttling off to class while the other coeds watched ramparts gallantly streaming.

When I worked for Paul the summer before design school, he pulled out his Prismas and said, "At school they're going to want you to do this on the computer. Everybody uses a computer. Handwork is a lost art." I looked at his immaculate rendering. I thought of Grandpa and his perfect drafting lettering on display at the School of Architecture at the University of Utah. Then and there I was determined not to succumb. Sure, it took longer, but to this day, I love rolling tracing paper down onto my drafting desk. I am creating something. There is a piece of me on the paper, when pen hits the page, rather than with the click of a mouse. Nothing beats an actual drawing board and the smell of a fresh felt tip pen ready for vellum and a straightedge.

Here's an excerpt of an article from The NY Times about the lost art of the T-square, for those of you who, like me, miss the drawing board.

The technology we have at our disposal is dazzling, and our efficiency is such that clients expect fast solutions and nearly instantaneous updates. We are proud to deliver them. Still, I wonder if we haven’t lost something in the process: the deliberation that comes with a slower pace, the attention to detail required when mistakes can’t be undone with the click of a mouse. Younger designers hearing me talk this way react as if I’m getting sentimental about the days when we all used to churn our own butter. Not wanting to be dismissed as a Luddite, I keep quiet about these things. Still, I keep one old tool at my desk: my T square. I use it to scratch my back.

From: Drawing Board to the Desktop: A Designer's Path, by Michael Bierut