Back in December of 1997, the [Baren] printmakers' group which I had founded earlier that year was coming up to its first Christmas. The group was at that time still very small, only a few dozen members, and there was quite a congenial friendly feeling to all the discussions.

One evening I sat down to send out a holiday greeting to my friends in the group, and before I knew it, a visitor had dropped down the chimney. 12 years later, the message is still fun to read. Here it is, partnered with an illustration that my (then) Japanese coach - Takayoshi Sakazaki - created for it. (Or if you wish, you can listen to it, in .mp3 format.)

The Night Before a Printmaker's Christmas

'Twas the night before Xmas, and all through the shop
No printmaker was stirring, work was all at a stop;
The tools were hung up in their places with care,
The workbench was clean, on it nothing was there;
The gouges were nestled all snug in their rack,
Carved blocks were beside them, piled up in a stack;
The brushes on shelves, the chisels in a case,
The pigments in drawers, all was in place.
When up to my ears, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Down to the workshop I ran on the floor,
Turned the key in the lock, and flung open the door.

The moon in the window threw light on the scene;
I rubbed my eyes wildly, was all this a dream?
For my tools were all jumping, from rack and from shelf,
They came running and dancing, each moving himself!
On the bench stood the baren; to my disbelief,
He called them around him, he must be the chief.
More rapid than lightning, the tools they all came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now 'washi', now 'sumi', now 'nomi' and 'hake'!
On 'hangi', 'enogu', with 'nori' and 'take'!
To your place on the bench, from your place on the wall,
Get to work! Get to work! Get to work all!"

I stood in amazement as they all started working,
The scene was a bustle, not one tool was shirking.
The knives and the chisels cut lines in the block,
As the baren stood watching, one eye on the clock.
While the carvers were busy, the others prepared
The paper and pigments, the work was all shared.
From the door where I stood I was able to see
all they were doing, no one looked up at me.
The woodchips were flying, two mallets were busy,
Just watching the action made me feel a bit dizzy.
Then the woodblock was ready, the chisels adjourned,
The baren sprang up "Now it's time for my turn!"

His cover of bamboo was tight like a bow,
And the oil on it glistened as he walked to and fro;
He was cocky and proud, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A brush ran on the block, mixing colour and paste,
The paper then followed, lying down with no haste.
Then up jumped the baren, his face a wide smirk,
He spoke not a word, and went straight to his work.
He slid to the left, and he slid to the right;
He pressed down the paper with all of his might.
At last it was finished, the print was pulled free;
The tools then all gathered, to inspect it with glee.

But just then I coughed, the sound was a boom;
Everybody froze solid, no one moved in the room.
The baren then shouted "It's the end of the game!"
And whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now 'washi', now 'sumi', now 'nomi' and 'hake'!
On 'hangi', 'enogu', with 'nori' and 'take'!
From your place on the bench, to your place on the wall,
Back with you! Back with you! Back with you all!"

The tools all ran back to their own proper place,
Of the night's busy action there remained not a trace.
In the space of a second, the bench it was bare,
And nothing remained but the print that lay there.
The work was well done and the printing was clear,
My tools are well-trained, and their message sincere.
On the paper I read, what a beautiful sight:
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

Dave Bull, December 1997

Translation notes:

• baren (bah ren) = the printer's rubbing pad
• washi (wah she) = Japanese paper
• sumi (soo mee) = Black carbon pigment
• nomi (noh mee) = chisel
• hake (hah kay) = brush
• hangi (hang gee) = woodblock
• enogu (eh noh goo) = pigments
• nori (noh ree) = paste
• take (tah kay) = bamboo (the baren covering)

Posted by Dave Bull at 12:37 PM | Comments (0)

Continued from [If you were my manager : Part Three] | Starting point of the series is [Part One]

So far in this little sequence of posts discussing some business aspects of my work, we've looked at some currency issues, and begun to think about the next project. I mentioned three factors that would be important considerations in making that decision:

• my own satisfaction
• customer satisfaction
• economics

But before I get too deeply into trying to work out a future project based around those things, I want to try a little 'thought experiment'. If there were no such constraints in place; if I had a completely free hand to do whatever I wanted ... what would I do? What would I make?

Now that's actually not an easy question to answer. If you think about it for yourself (with respect to your own life and work), you will find that, although any of us can quickly come up with suggestions on this and that, it's by no means certain that such suggestions would actually make sense in the long term. The classic example of this is the guy who 'wins the lottery'. Sure, it's easy at first; quit your job, buy a big house, take the great vacation, etc. etc. But then what? Having unlimited resources doesn't help you, if you don't have some kind of motivation or structure to what you are doing.

If all my constraints were suddenly removed, and I became free to make (say) a project that wouldn't have been feasible because the result would have been too expensive, what happens next? I make the thing, it sits there. What do I do, give it away? What would it mean to have made it? Sure, maybe it would have been a technical achievement for Dave, but without the integration with society that has been stripped away by the 'magic wand' support from 'outside' ... so what?

I'm perhaps being clumsy in my attempt to express this idea. There was a Dilbert cartoon in my newspaper just the other day (very strange timing, actually) about this.

"It's not really art if no one likes it."

Now I don't believe that particular phrase is true, but the point Wally was making - the stuff this guy is producing must be of no value to society, as demonstrated by the fact that he can't make a living from it - does come close to my own thinking.

Some of you might fire back, "What about examples like Van Gogh? His work was not 'valued' in his own lifetime, yet we now recognize how good it is ... etc. etc.," but I think that's kind of a red herring. Sure, we can find such 'special case' examples if we look for them. But I'm talking about normal people, in normal daily life. If nobody can/will 'consume' the thing that somebody is 'producing', then - by my particular definition - this is an indication that the person on the production side is out of line.

It's not that what he is producing is 'no good', but if he can't find - or make (which is where Van Gogh failed) - a place for it to fit, then there has been no point. The book that goes unread might as well not have been written.

I fully recognize that I may be 'wrong' on this. But it's the way that I have approached my work for all these years that I have been making prints. I want/expect my stuff to be valued by people, and it seems that the only real method available to measure that is to put it on the market. People buy it ... hey, it must be worthwhile! Nobody buys it ... oops, you're on the wrong track ...

So, to return to the question I raised, "if I had a completely free hand to do whatever I wanted ... what would I make?" I'm going to try and answer it, keeping in mind that I don't want to work in isolation, exempted from market forces. I want people to be collecting/using my stuff!

Here goes (in no particular order, just as they occur to me ...):

• Publish another couple of books on the techniques of printmaking, building on the 'Your First Print' that I issued a few months ago. One each, on printing, and carving.
• Make a replica/reproduction of one of the astonishing Utamaro books published by Tsutaya Juzaburo in the 1790s. Maybe the Insect Book, or the Gifts from the Ebb Tide, or Ginsekai. They each have about 12 plates, cut and printed with exquisite skill.
• Take some of the designs from my current My Solitudes series, cut them on much larger blocks (at a scale that actually matches the perspectives inherent in the designs), and work with Numabe-san the printer to create some editions, issued under my Mokuhankan brand.
• Work out a print series reproducing some of the Meiji stuff published by Daikokuya or Akiyama Buemon. Again, an astonishing level of craftsmanship.
• Get a bunch more prints into the Mokuhankan catalogue. That venture has been very successful, but is being crippled by the slow pace of additions to the catalogue. There are designers all over the planet who would love their stuff to be issued as woodblock prints.
• Building on the Mokuhankan project - get off my butt, get downtown, and start lining up shops to carry those prints in their stock. There is a huge potential business there, completely untapped. (And of course, not just in Tokyo, but in galleries, etc. all over the world.)
• Surimono reproductions. During the course of producing my 'Surimono Albums' I included a few reproductions of actual Edo-era surimono. These are a perfect 'venue' for my particular skill set, and I'd love to make more of them.
• Figure out where to take my own 'original' printmaking. Although I think the My Solitudes has come out pretty well, I'm not happy with the way that the designs have skated too close to realism.
• Thinking of Paul Jacoulet's 1942 print of two court ladies with a goldfish bowl ... an absolutely stupendous achievement, that leaves me gob-smacked (excuse the Brit slang) every time I look at it; I have to have a go at making something like that!
• Expand the David's Choice eBook series that I started a couple of months back.
• Think about producing some reproductions of some of the wonderful shunga prints that were produced in the old days. This would have to be done discreetly, but would be a very interesting project.
• Get 'into print' with books representing all my work to date - hundreds of prints. As RichMedia eBooks and/or as beautiful physical books.

OK, I think that's enough for now; if I sat here longer, I could extend such a list indefinitely, especially if I continued including more of the reproductions I'd like to tackle.

Now that's a chaotic list of stuff. (And an excellent demonstration that the worst thing that could perhaps happen to me would be to 'win a lottery', as I would end up completely paralyzed into inaction, unable to decide which way to go!) So, Mr. Manager - if you are still with me - I can guess that your advice may be something on the order of, "Hey, just grab one of these things and run with it!"

Can't be done.

Why? There is nothing on that list - as interesting and 'useful' as they all may be - that will pay the bills at the end of next month; the mortgage, the medical insurance, and ... you know ... food and stuff.

Somehow I have to find a way to combine this 'want list' with what I learned from the kind of replies people made the other day:

If you did something like the Treasure Chest I'd certainly subscribe

I guess that my personal preference would go out to your Surimono albums concept

I am very happy (and somewhat proud) of being a subscriber and have 'budgeted' 10,000 yen per quarter

The pricing on the Treasure Chest was perfect for me.

And ... I think I may have it.

First, some numbers. Sorry again, to keep coming back to the $ stuff ... There is just no way around it ... :-(

During this past couple of years, 4 Solitudes prints have gone out each year, at 8,000 yen each, to around 75 collectors. Doing the math, that means my subscription income (all averaged out) has been 200,000 yen per month. And I'm still here.

So let's put that down as a base to start with. If I could get a new series up and running - at a 'no worse than that' level - then I could swing it. Well, the Treasure Chest prints were 2,000 each. When I did that series I put out one every two weeks, to somewhere around 140 collectors. (The number slowly climbed during the course of the year.)

But what if I were to do a similar set, at a pace of only one per month? I would need 100 collectors to get to that minimum level. I think I can do that. The subscription price would be (with postage) just around $25 monthly, for a beautiful little woodblock print, in the interesting storage case. Maybe again 24 prints in the set, subscriptions running for two years. I think I can get 100 people interested.

And here's the kicker - I could take a month off every two months! Eh?

Sure! Here's how it might work. When I made those Treasure Chest prints, I made them in pairs, like this (cutting them apart after printing was finished):

The pace was one finished print out the door every two weeks, so I made a pair (200 copies, start to finish) every 4 weeks (slightly less, actually).

Given that same pace - making a pair every four weeks - but issuing them at the pace of one finished print every month, I would have one month free every second month! Not 'free' as in 'time on the beach' of course, but free to work on items from that 'impossible' list I just laid out.

Now this really sounds interesting ... On the one hand, it's a bit dangerous - I'm shooting pretty low for the potential income; I can't actually live here on 200,000 yen per month. Mortgage, taxes and medical insurance alone take almost that much. It would need supplementing with other things (Mokuhankan sales, subscriptions to 'back issues', eBook sales, Gift Prints, etc. etc.). But that's exactly what has happened anyway this past couple of years. No reason to think that all those sources would suddenly dry up to zero.

And on the other hand, surely whatever work I get involved with during my 'month off' would also turn out to be at least somewhat remunerative, wouldn't it? And as the previous Treasure Chest garnered far more than 100 subscribers, might not this one do the same - especially as it would be 'cheaper'? The more I think about this, the more I like it.

Could this really become possible? Running a successful print series, paying the bills, and having a month available for personal projects every second month? I'd better get my calculator out and run some of these numbers again ... there must be something I've overlooked!

Somebody pinch me - tell me what's wrong with this plan ... No, don't!

Posted by Dave Bull at 12:21 PM | Comments (12)

Continued from [If you were my manager : Part Two] | Starting point of the series is [Part One]

Well, now that we've 'settled' the question of how I should handle foreign exchange, let's move on to bigger fish. Very big fish!

With the My Solitudes series scheduled to come to a conclusion sometime in March, I have to begin preparing for what comes next. Here in Japan, April is the month when most things 'get going': the school year begins in April, as do employment contracts for those who graduated in March. Companies and institutions do all their major internal shuffling on March 31st/April 1st, and this is when promotions take effect, when people retire, and when many people are re-assigned to new positions. For me to have a new series beginning on April 1st is - in Japan at least - perfect timing.

Now all I need is a perfect idea!

There are a great many considerations; more this time than ever before. With more than twenty years of subscription prints now issued, the choices still keep multiplying.

(For readers who are not so familiar with what I have issued up to now, this recent story in my newsletter gives a good overview.)

Here is a rundown on the previous work, with some comments on relevant points:

1989~1998 : Hyakunin Isshu (poetry) series (sets of 10 @ 10,000 yen each)
For me:	Excellent challenge at first, less so in the later stages. But overall - ten years! - a wonderful accomplishment.
For collectors:	Main interest was the content rather than the printmaking.
Sales, etc.:	Very slow going at first, fully subscribed in the later stages (necessitating a reprint).
1999~2003 : Surimono Albums (sets of 10 @ 6,000 yen each)
For me:	Excellent challenge start to finish. Huge amount of work: 200 copies each, many colours, a new print every five weeks ... incredible achievement. (Never again!)
For collectors:	Mixed. The 'scattergun' approach left many of them feeling a bit 'lost', although others enjoyed the constant surprise when opening the packages.
Sales, etc.:	Well subscribed at first, tapering off as the years went by. After five years, I myself was thinking of going for ten, but the market said 'no way'. As 'back issues' since then: slow but steady.
2004 : Beauties of Four Seasons (set of 4 @ 12,500 yen each)
For me:	Excellent challenge start to finish. My best work, probably never to be surpassed.
For collectors:	Mixed. Three of the designs (Spring, Autumn, Winter) were of subjects not considered 'beautiful' by contemporary Japanese women, which left many collectors feeling disappointed. And the Winter print met with huge resistance (including a few people who were so upset, they have yet to pay for it, and one who actually wrapped it up and sent it back.)
Sales, etc.:	Poor. More than half of the sets are still here on my shelves, even five years later.
2005 : Hanga Treasure Chest (set of 24 @ 2,000 yen each)
For me:	Excellent challenge start to finish. Hugely exhausting (one every two weeks!), but very satisfying.
For collectors:	Very well received, and by a very wide 'variety' of people, not just print fans.
Sales, etc.:	Excellent. More revenue than I needed, thus allowing a build of savings that would help feed me during what came next. As 'back issues': steady since then (now nearly all gone).
2006~2007 : Scroll Project (single item @ 50,000 (since increased to 80,000))
For me:	A very good challenge, although the final result was honestly not as good as I had hoped.
For collectors:	Mixed. It's a pretty esoteric item, not one that would appeal to a wide audience. Those who like it, really like it.
Sales, etc.:	Very poor (I had anticipated this.) Low subscription rate, combined with my slowness at getting it out the door, left my finances in bad shape.
2007~2010 : My Solitudes (set of 12 @ 8,000 yen each)
For me:	Very good challenge (and how!) The first series I have ever begun without being confident of being able to pull it off. The jury is still out on the ultimate worth of this work, but I think that in general I have 'acquitted myself honourably'.
For collectors:	Not sure how to answer. Again, those who like it, really like it. Others are silent.
Sales, etc.:	Glass half empty/half full. As I write, there are 79 subscribers, meaning that more than 800 of my original prints have been sold ... my first original woodblock prints. I doubt there are many people around who can match this achievement. On the other hand though, only 79 subscribers, at the low price that I set for the series, and at the rate of one print going out every three months, means that it is not enough to make a living. I have been on the very edge now for over a year. Every $ that comes in goes straight out to expenses.

It's been quite a ride!

I have to mention something else - something that doesn't show in that chart. When the poets' series began, I was living in a rented apartment, teaching English classes in one of the rooms. As the printmaking developed, the English classes became history, as did the apartment. I now sit here in a 4-story home/studio/workshop, with only a few months left to run on the mortgage. My baren has provided my income for twenty years, and has bought me a home.

I think I'll say that again ... it just sounds so good : my baren has provided my income for twenty years, and has bought me a home ... in Tokyo, one of the most expensive places on the planet.

Woot!

But back to business! What should I do next? It has to fit well with those three criteria: personal satisfaction, collector satisfaction, and sales (food on the table). Keeping me happy is easy - I have so much fun with this stuff that honestly speaking, it doesn't much matter what the project is. I'm the least important point of the three. Getting the collectors happy is also not too difficult; as long as the project is 'interesting' there will be a bunch of people who will come along for the ride. That much I've learned in twenty+ years.

It's the third one ... $ ... that causes the problems. When the price goes up, subscriptions go down; that is absolutely clear from the table above. And not just the 'raw' price - it's the 'perceived' price. For example, the Treasure Chest, the Beauties, the Scroll, and the Solitudes (as planned) were all the 'same' price: 50,000 yen per year. But the Treasure Chest had 24 prints, the Beauties 4, the Scroll 1, and the Solitudes 6. (My Solitudes was planned at one every two months, but that slipped to one every three months as time went by.)

And as we move still further into what is perhaps going to be the worst recession of my lifetime, price is surely certain to be the over-riding factor in any decision to become a subscriber. This next series has to be 'easy to buy', no doubt about it.

So when looking back over the list of previous work, the only thing that seems to be a practical model is the Treasure Chest; I had fun, the collectors had fun, and I ate well.

But do I want to repeat myself? Do the collectors want a repeat? And can they still afford 50,000 a year? And that ridiculous two-week schedule!

OK, this is getting kind of long, and I think that's enough for one evening ... I do have some thoughts on how to move forward with this, but before I talk more, I would be very interested in hearing ideas from the 'armchair' managers out there.

(And I see that I didn't even bring up the (major) question of whether or not this next series should be original work, or reproductions!)

The series continues in If you were my manager : Part Four ...

Posted by Dave Bull at 12:14 PM | Comments (8)

Continued from [If you were my manager : Part One]

Thanks to those who contributed suggestions to yesterday's post about the currency question ... As I mentioned in the Discussion section on that page, I have added a little popup currency converter:

I've also added this to my main 'Order Form' page with each price in the list independently linked to a converted amount.

These are now working very nicely! I should have done this a long time ago!

But ...

This doesn't solve another of the problems with multiple currencies - the fact that rates change over time, and the cost of a subscription to any of my print series thus has a 'floating' price.

For example, if you live in the US, and had signed up to collect the Hanga Treasure Chest about 6 months ago, the price of 2,000 yen per print was about $20.50 ... But the print I send this month - at the same price of 2,000 yen - would cost you $22.20

How much will you have to pay next month? More, or less? Who knows ...

And I think this uncertainty is perhaps hurting my subscription orders.

So the question is whether or not to set the price in the customer's own currency. For a US-based collector, the price for those prints could be set at (say) $21.00 each, and they would be guaranteed that it wouldn't change during the course of their subscription to any particular set of prints.

As the currency started to vary over time, they would continue to pay the same amount, but I would receive either less, or more, as circumstances dictated. Would they feel cheated, or would they feel 'protected'? It would all depend on what happened as time went by ...

And of course I myself would have much more 'exposure' to currency fluctuations, something I have been protected against so far by having a 'prices in yen' policy.

If you were a potential collector looking at my price information, would this make much difference to you? Do you think my 'prices in yen' policy has been hurting?

The series continues in If you were my manager : Part Three ...

Posted by Dave Bull at 12:09 PM | Comments (5)

Yesterday saw the end of work on the little new year greeting print; 195 copies are now pressed under the drying boards. In the spare time over the next week, I'll get the envelopes addressed and then truck them all down to the post office. On time again this year!

With that job out of the way, I can get back to normal work, so I have now begun the second run of Forest in Winter - another 100+ sheets. With no decisions to be made, it won't take so long, so by about the 22nd or 23rd I'll be done.

The next job up will be the final print in the Solitudes series - Seacoast in Spring - but I think I'll save work on that one until after the turn of the year. I have the basic 'idea' already in mind, and although it's not going to be an easy one to get down on paper, at least I won't be struggling to think about where to start ...

And ... with just one print now left in the series, it's time to start seriously thinking about what will come next. As usual, there are a lot of ideas jostling for attention, and many paths I could take. As I sit here printing, the 'discussions' inside my head go back and forth, back and forth. 'Carver Dave' has lots of ideas about what he wants to make. 'Printer Dave' looks at some of those ideas and shakes his head ... And of course 'Manager Dave' stands over the both of them, shaking his head even more vigorously!

And that gives me an idea. I have no 'manager' of course; I work completely independently. Because of this though, my decisions sometimes turn out to be somewhat on the impractical side of things. The scroll project a few years back is a perfect example of this - 'Carver Dave' was given his head, and the result was near bankrupcy!

Would you like to sit in the manager's chair for a while? If I offer some of my thoughts on my business policies, and on possible projects for next year's work, would you be willing to proffer some feedback, guidance, and 'advice'? I have to tell you right up front that this will be a purely 'honorary' position ... no 15% cut of my profits for you, I'm afraid! (Although I suppose that doesn't matter anyway - 15% of nothing is ... ) Let's give this a try! Please feel free to put your 'manager' hat on, and put any suggestions into the Discussion form below!

OK, rather than try and decide my entire future all at once here, let's start with a relatively easy point for discussion. Because I live and work in Japan, and because I first started selling prints here, only later extending my reach overseas, I have always priced my subscription prints in Japanese Yen. I never specifically made this a policy, it is just 'the way it is'. Over on the information page for my Treasure Chest, for example, the price is listed as '2,000 yen + 330 postage = 2,330 per print'.

Now because I myself am dealing with other countries all the time, seeing a price in a 'strange' currency doesn't really bother me; if I don't know the approximate value, I just look it up. But when I think back to when I lived in North America, and hadn't yet had many dealings overseas, foreign currencies were just gibberish. Especially ones that had lots of digits. "Look at all those zeros; that looks expensive!"

Off the top of your head - without checking - do you know how much those prints cost?

For making the actual payment transactions it doesn't actually matter much to the collectors, as the credit card processor charges each person in their home currency anyway. It does matter to me, as I would prefer to have payment in my own home currency, but I would be willing to inconvenience myself, if it turned out to be something that would help to increase sales.

So what do you think, Mr. Manager? Should I price my prints in $? In Euros? Pounds? All of the above? Specifically I'm thinking, would it increase orders? But as the currencies are always changing, and I would thus have to adjust those prices all the time, might it be more confusing?

The series continues in If you were my manager : Part Two ...

Posted by Dave Bull at 2:04 PM | Comments (5)

Now that the 'My Solitudes' project is coming near completion - only one print left to go! - I'm starting to re-organize the web pages. Over the past three years, I have been scanning each print at every stage of completion, and I have now made a new page with a complete 'printing stages' slideshow for every print in the set.

Please visit the Stages of Printing page and see the prints come to life as you watch!

Posted by Dave Bull at 2:22 PM | Comments (2)

Here's an overall image of the block I've been working on today; it will be used for a karazuri - empty printing.

I snapped a few more pictures after knocking off this evening, just a few minutes ago. The light hanging over the bench is giving a bad colour cast to some of these shots, but anyway, you can still see what's going on (these are clickable for enlargements).

I can't see this much detail while I'm cutting! Once I'm done, I'll pull a quick proof, and will then go back over the whole thing, touching up here and there where lines are too fat, or badly shaped, or nicked. I can see plenty of places that will need it ...

This is a pretty hard block, and it has a very steep 'sakame' (opposing grain); the clearing chisel will only work in one direction. In those places where I can't get 'in there' and have to work against the grain, you can see where the bottom of the cleared area gets very torn. This is a difficult piece of wood, for sure ...

Posted by Dave Bull at 2:46 PM | Comments (5)

With the first batch of the Forest in Winter print now done (112 sheets), and 87 of them out the door, it's time to clean up the printing bench, and get the carving tools out. There are only a few weeks left in the year, and I've got to get the New Year print done first, before resuming printing work on the second half of this edition.

It's such a pleasure to be carving something with nice curves and lines for a change!

I'm not going to show the entire image yet of course - you'll have to wait until January 1st to see that - but people who have read/listened to the David's Choice eBook that I issued last month may perhaps be able to put 2+2 together ... looking at these little snapshots, and thinking about some of the comments I made on one of the prints in the book ...

This next picture shows how clear the image on the block can become when using thin gampi paper for the hanshita.

The area at the upper right is the face-down gampi; below that is an area where I have rubbed lightly with a slightly moistened finger, to remove most of the body of the paper, leaving just the image lines. It just doesn't get any clearer than this!

Posted by Dave Bull at 2:25 PM | Comments (3)