Skeuomorphism–a great Scrabble word and the subject of a fascinating story on NPR last week. Apple design becoming outdated? Some would say that’s blasphemy! I take a more practical approach.

Read full NPR article here.

I think this raises some interesting ideas about visual language as it relates to process in the new digital millenium, and I think some kind of middle ground may be where I land — yes, the “anthropomorphic” representationalism of, say, a — entirely virtual — trash can seems a little outdated or old hat, but are we ready to let go of that convention in favor of a “image free” conception of our gizmoid functions and performances? How is the MEANING of it changed? Is there a new understanding of what is transpiring if there is no “depiction” of it? Probably. I think the interaction becomes that much more abstract and concrete at the same time, oddly. But colder and maybe even more solipsistic — so, it makes sense I think that microsoft would be at the cutting edge (and I really kinda only mean that sorta snarkily — I mean, y’know, it kinda makes sense considering what they’ve been about culturally and historically). I agree that there’s some silliness associated w/ the woodgrain and the stitching, but I wonder if doing away w/a representational approach to user-interfacing isn’t a step too far in the other direction.

Another perspective

Today is sam’s birthday. To my great surprise and delight, he said recently that he wouldn’t mind having a wristwatch (one of his “cool” friends must wear one), so I was very happy to have his present easily determined and then purchased. I very deliberately got him an analog watch rather than a digital one — and I was actually thinking about this in the car on the way in this morning — cuz a digital read-out will tell you what time it is RIGHT NOW — THIS VERY SECOND — with no indication of how that relates to the “sweep of time” on a grander scale. A minute hand and a second hand and an hour hand, on the other “hand,” convey what comes before and hence — you can see it there — the second hand moving through space IN TIME. It’s a more humane experience of time. Still a man-made contrivance, but somehow more organic. And I wonder how these little aspects of our daily life add up and influence our experience of the world and how we react to it. I saw a GPS on the dashboard of the car in front of me, and thought how, similarly, the GPS will tell you EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE RIGHT NOW. A traditional, paper map shows you the space and then it’s up to you to put yourself in it — a fundamentally very different approach. The further we get into abstraction, is more humanity lost byte by byte? And what is happening to the hard-wiring of our children’s brains — the ones who never heard of a floppy disk? How is their experience of the world different from ours?

as is my wont, especially on a sunday night once the kids have been packed off to bed, i’ve been known to crack open a beer and flick on the tube like i did last night. the jets were too far down to the patriots for a realistic comeback, so the Channel Safari™ began, but ended quickly when i found that pbs was running “art&copy" again as an independent lens offering. i’d stumbled upon it a couple of times before in an identical manner, so i knew what to expect, and settled in to watch it for i think a third time.

for those who are not familiar, "art&copy” is a feature length documentary that came out a couple years ago about the creative side of the advertising industry. constructed like any other talking head-driven vehicle, we hear stories, anecdotes, rants and pearls of wisdom from the most brilliant and successful advertising minds of the last 50 years. not dissimilarly to the earlier released “helvetica,” the condensed history lesson helps to contextualize much of the discussion, and perhaps it takes itself a little too seriously (although maybe not), but if they as icons and we as acolytes don’t, who will?

and inasmuch as narrative is spun from the creative point of view, it’s not particularly surprising that “art&copy” is not very kind to bureaucrats, but looks unflinchingly at the relationship between those functions and the creative spark and process. it reminds me that the challenges that we as designers, art directors and copy writers confront are to a degree universal — the walls to be pushed against, imposed from without and from within, have in many ways not really changed much over time. sure, there are macs now where there once were tissues, but the problems to be solved remain fundamentally quite constant. we’re all kinda trying to do the same thing; connect and convey in as meaningful a fashion as possible. that connection to the forebears makes me feel a small part of a larger whole, a sense of family of sorts. and the tales of trial, tribulation, joy and exaltation in the ongoing quest to create art in the service of both commerce and some greater good also remind me that the rewards can be small or large, simple or profound.

highly, highly, highly recommended.
(i assume one can get via netflix or amazon?)

Okay, so I have this old ballcap that I probably ought to get rid of. It’s seven or eight years old, has seen LOTS of wear and tear and has become pretty much so nasty that I can’t wear it out in public any more — teenage daughter is aghast. I kinda hate to throw it away though cuz I really dig the logo on the front of it.

I’d forgotten to bring appropriate head-cover-and-visorage (read: ballcap), when I went out to Tucson for my buddy Dave’s wedding, so I picked one up while tooling around the UniversIty of Arizona the morning before the ceremony. I’d seen U of A’s logo on the side of their football helmets on tv, but never really looked at it particularly closely, and as it turns out, I should have cuz it’s pretty cool. Not a smack-you-upside-the-head-with-its-cleverness kind of design, but a quietly smart bit of juxtaposition. In a nutshell, it consists of one capital letterform (“A”) floating inside of, or surrounded by, another. The inner A is of a classical persuasion, with its gently flared serifs and proportions one might imagine carved into a frieze on the acropolis. The outer is of a more recent vintage by comparison, with big ol’ slab serifs (probably popularized about the time the school was founded) boldly declaring its modernity. So, I instantly got where the designer was going in his/her attempt to suggest simultaneously dichotomy and integration: “knowledge is perpetual, and this is an institution where we roll around in it in our time and embrace the continuum — we’re a contemporary facility that doesn’t just value that which precedes us, but celebrates how the future grows from memoria — past is prologue, baby.”

No seriously, I totally got all that from one A inside another. It’s a complex idea simply and gracefully rendered: the volumes are well balanced, positive-negative where the two letterforms create a negative inner-space doesn’t hinder legibility, and the two-color approach feels utterly obvious in the very best sense. The visual representation feels perfectly expressive of the idea it manifests and it handsomely serves all of the myriad purposes and applications that are required of a high-profile visual identity component of a modern educational facility.

And It looks cool on the front of a ballcap — and mine’s off to whomever designed this one, cuz it’s always encouraging and sometimes inspiring to see ‘the art and the craft’ performed at a very high level. Go Cats.

If the world does not come to a cataclysmic end in 2012—and the jury’s still out on that—then we’ll all be around to enjoy the London Olympics. You may remember the Beijing closing ceremonies, where 20,000 fresh-faced Chinese acrobats magically ascended into the clouds. Later, the London contingent arrived: some aging rock stars riding in a tour bus with parasols. That’s the way I remember it anyway. The point being that London couldn’t hold a candle to the spectacle that was Beijing. I was a little embarrassed for London that night, but I’ve had some time to reflect.

China was trying to impress the world and it did so in grand fashion. London, it seems, was telling the world who it was, who it really was—rock stars, parasols and all. After all, the Brits have a reputation for being a bit eccentric, so why not play on that? Well they have, in a big way.

First, there is the London 2012 logo. Graphically speaking, it’s a train wreck. It’s a jumble of abstract shapes which one blogger described as "Lisa Simpson doing something naughty."  But in it’s own primitive way it conveys the eccentricity and energy of the host city. And then there are Wenlock and Mandeville, the Olympic mascots who I describe as part Gumby, part bowling pin.

Will all of this come together to create a great and memorable Olympics? I’m not sure, but one thing is certain, it’ll be fun!

I recently received a copy of a 305-page book that I, with pleasure, spent hours working on while I was a student at the Rochester Institute of Technology and graduate assistant at the Melbert B. Cary, Jr. Graphic Arts Collection. The book is entitled A Specimen Portfolio of Wood Type in the Cary Collection.

The book showcases over 250 reproductions of original wood type block prints, each displaying a typeface that was created more than 180 years ago for commercial advertising. My job was to digitally reproduce the original wood type block prints and lay out all the pages, with help from a fellow student. Though daunting at times, it gave me the opportunity to study and ultimately fall in love with over 250 wood type specimens.

What strikes me about these letterforms is their unique ability to survive. And by survive, I mean not only did they manage successfully to endure decades of technological developments within the design and printing industries—which potentially could have rendered them utterly useless—but they have managed to become a significant source of inspiration for modern designs. So much so, that many of these typefaces not only exist today, but still contain complete sets of characters with not one letter lost along the way.

In order to remain as intact as they have over the past 180 years, many individuals had to dedicate time and effort to ensure these wood type blocks were kept in use. Knowing now what I do about these letterforms, it is clear to me why so many have chosen to champion them.  Every letterform has a striking personality with a unique story. Each one proudly shows its history through the imperfections it has earned overtime, leaving behind an impressive imprint both on the printed page and the minds of many who have been inspired by them.

For me, this book serves as a reminder to stay dedicated to collecting, preserving and passing along designs and related materials that I find inspirational. It also begs the question, “What can we create today that can survive for the next 180 years?”

I was ruminating on a frustration that every designer worth his salt wrestles with from time to time—the need to cram more and more and more stuff into space that just ain’t gettin’ any bigger. While some folks may like the challenge of shoehorning as much "content" into a given field as possible—mortising like Inca stone masons to fill every nook, every cranny, there are those of us for whom the apex of brilliant design was reached when the Beatles emblazoned the cover of their so-called "white album" with… absolutely nothing. This reminded me of the design aesthetic of a record label I got to know as a DJ at the college radio station a very long time ago—Swiss label, I think, called HatHut—that had a beautiful and distinctive, minimalist style.

The music was generally pretty cool, but it’s the album covers (yes, we’re talking LPs here) that have stuck with me. They had a single, consistent visual treatment that was disarmingly simple yet elegant and arresting. As I recall, they featured enigmatic black and white photos cropped in unexpected ways (or sometimes no photo at all), with very, very simple typographic arrangements (Helvetica 55, flush left, one color—a straight orange, pale blue, maybe a grey or reversed out of the photo). There was a clear synergy-cum-corollary with the austerity, angularity, and abstraction of the music inside the package (’80s Euro avant-garde jazz and art music). Swiss modernism pushed to the extreme, these designs could very well have come off as naive or unfinished, but the apparent simplicity instead made them so haunting that I remember them well some 20 years later. The utter absence of anything extraneous made these covers so memorable—and in successful marketing communications too, distilling an idea to its essence can lead to greater clarity and even moving communication. Prudent editing is a crucial aspect of the craft — whether we’re talking layout and design, copywriting, or any of many other disciplines (i.e. music, painting, literature, architecture). To increase the likelihood of a successful exchange of ideas, it behooves one to know when to say when, and it’s our job to know when successful messaging is compromised by "too much stuff."

Anyway, just as the jazz label Blue Note had an iconic look in the ’50s and ’60s that was emblematic of its times, the HatHut remain for me a gorgeous lot fixed in time. Seek them out at your local record store…on vinyl.

p.s. Turns out they’re still around. www.hathut.com.

We all know it’s important to start the day off right with a good breakfast. So, too, I believe, it’s important to start the work day off on the right note. In the design studio, we begin each day by opening up iTunes and selecting the 1985 power ballad hit "What About Love" by the incomparable rock band Heart.

It has become such a strong tradition that we politely wait for the entire design team to assemble before cranking it up. If someone falters and forgets to play the song, we miss it; a heavy absence hangs in the air. The song is a checkered flag indicating the start of the work day. It’s a musical ice breaker, a way to keep things light, and a promise that the day holds good things.

I’m not sure who started the tradition, but it quickly stuck. I think, in part, it’s because the song starts off slow and dreamy and ends up loud and fast—kind of like a typical day in the design studio. It also may have something to do with the fact that the lyrics are just about pitch perfect and meaningful.

"I can’t tell you what you’re feeling inside, and I can’t sell you what you don’t want to buy…"

Very appropriate given the nature of our business don’t you think?

Watch the video now.

With all the chatter out there vying for our attention — TV, radio, Internet, cell phones, billboards, direct mail, email, tweets, newspaper (for now), magazines, bumper stickers, your kid’s cereal box, the placemat beneath his Happy Meal, advertising space sold on every available inch of…well, just about anything— how does any messaging successfully cut through the din and make an impression?

Part of the challenge of developing quality creative is to not only to deliver salient messaging via appropriate vehicles, but also to do it in a way that is compelling — not just visually arresting and/or alluring, but conceptually resonant and memorable. A strategic marketing plan may be indispensible, but it’s useless without a creative vehicle that not only garners attention, but rewards it.

The Packaging Machinery Manufacturers Institute (PMMI) came to Fixation ready to make a bolder statement with the creative for their annual PACK EXPO trade event. The campaign that we’ve developed this year introduces bold colors (coded by vertical market) to enliven photography, an energetic and contemporary typographic and design sensibility, and a pointed but flexible approach to messaging that, through series of “Because” statements, spells out very specifically and persuasively the issues and concerns of the industry. The look is a significant departure from not just what PMMI has done in the past, but from the way that the industry portrays itself in general. The “Because” approach to copy confers a touch of swagger while conveying important information in a businesslike fashion. Together, they articulate a vision and message that looks and sounds unlike other marketing efforts propagated in the industry.

Zigging when everyone zags may just be the way to get noticed — and perhaps make an important connection — amongst the dizzying information overload. Can giving voice to a unique idea or new expression be a little risky? Sure, but so is the risk of having one’s message un-consumed because it’s ordinary or forgettable. Who can afford to be ignored?

When there’s a lot at stake, the safe option can seem pretty appealing for obvious reasons. And if you’re operating on a recession-hammered budget and can’t afford Hollywood endorsements or elaborate photo shoots on glamorous sets, the challenge becomes even greater and the value of unique creative becomes all the more apparent. Given that there’s really only so much that each of us can process, blending in seldom emerges as the best option. Sometimes it takes a brilliant idea rendered in a fresh and fascinating way to cut through the clutter.