If These Wheels Could Talk book; 34 x 6.5in. (spread), 116ppg. / 2004

Soon after the dot-com and 9/11 crashes, my design job also crashed. I set about looking for another, through other firms, recruiters, friends, friends of friends, and so on. All unable to take on the frivolous weight of an underdeveloped type and image manipulator, I broadened my search criteria: assistant… receptionist… data enterer… Anything that would have me back in the office environs to which I had grown so entitled. But there was nothing to be had. Facing the loss of everything, the idealization of pre-crash innocence struck me. I printed out a few standard government forms, borrowed a friend’s car and found myself driving southward to the King County Metro headquarters. I was on my way to becoming a bus driver.

Public transportation is one of the great noble causes of our time, and the bus embodies the struggle most colossally: angling through bourgeois car traffic to transport the proletariat affordably to their destination. Having grown up without a car, I had developed a keen appreciation for the bus’s role, and, as the false hopes of cubicle walls crumbled, to give my hands to one of their great helms all of a sudden seemed right. But, for all my idealization, I also knew the motley reality of what goes on above the turning wheels: The bus riding masses are an odd bunch, particularly in a city where almost everyone who can drives a car instead…

If These Wheels Could Talk title page; 34 x 6.5in. (spread), 116ppg. / 2004

Even before my career epiphany, the bus, and particularly those who rode it, had been so fascinating to me that I often ruminated that someone could (and should) write a book about it. Some years after my drive downtown, nearing the end of the Visual Communication Design (VCD) program at the University of Washington, I decided I would write that book. This was to be a documentary exploration into extra-ordinary human behavior, captured from a series of bus rides.

Of all the routes in Metro’s quiver, route 7 is one of the most eccentric, and, at the time of this project, I knew it quite well. It starts in the University district, with its preppy students and punkish homeless, then ambles up to Capitol Hill’s prideful exhibitionists and holy hipsters, turns around the plucky community college and then hurdles downtown, where business gets serious and youth goes to die. I lived in the middle and commuted to both ends. In homage to this moving cross-section, the book is composed as a series of seven rides.

Interaction with the book is meant to invoke the bus riding experience. The vehicle, itself, is large and unwieldy in every dimension. The book is 34″ across when straightened out, almost six inches thick, and quite heavy. Though over 100 pages, there are no page numbers; rather, it is based on time to get from one end of a story to the other. The table of contents shows the journey you will take through the read, a legend of symbols (such as character descriptions and ambient noises like laughing or stop-bell ringing), and a timetable, so you know when your story is coming.

If These Wheels Could Talk table of contents; 34 x 6.5in. (spread), 116ppg. / 2004

Readers are invited into new stories by a new set of doors rolling up. For those who really want to immerse themselves in the bus ride experience while careening through the book, a CD of ambient bus noise sits on the hub of the first wheel.

If These Wheels Could Talk spread (story coming); 34 x 6.5in., 116ppg. / 2004

If These Wheels Could Talk spread (story arrival); 34 x 6.5in., 116ppg. / 2004

A true connoisseur of the bus understands the implications of everything from the machine to the madness within. Express routes traversing the city and then ending in the bus tunnel downtown had been taken in beautiful Italian Bredas that would convert from diesel to electric “trolley” mode via long, raisable contact rods that would slide power from a dense network of live overhead wires. Sadly, these were being overtaken by the criminally ugly, though presumably more practical Canadian New Flyers, which were truer hybrids in that they no longer needed the trolley wires to sustain electric power. Before even the Bredas were the German M.A.N. machines of equivalent industrial elegance but, by this point had only kept presence with aging, 100% electric trolleys on local urban routes; their sophisticated gestalt belied an obstreperous tendency to toss their electric contact rods (and thus, all power) if corners weren’t taken with surgical accuracy. Filling in the gaps were useful, if unremarkable, American Gillig Diesels. Depending on the day and time, the number 7 may have employed any of these buses.

Once inside one of the great battlewagons, the real psychological war begins. Within each bus is a series of micro neighborhoods: Elderly, lonely and confused up front, huddled masses in the low front-facing rows, superior types high over the wheel wells, focused readers and motion-starved toddlers in the windowless, articulating mid-section and conniving youth slammed as rearward as possible. To mismatch your persona with the expectations of the community could be uncomfortable at best. However, increased rider density of any given route will dissipate these presumptions.

As you enter a story, a page lets you know where you are in the route, what kind of bus is taking you, how full it was, who the primary characters were and where they sat.

If These Wheels Could Talk spread (chapter head); 34 x 6.5in., 116ppg. / 2004

Technically, of course, I didn’t write this book. I could have, I suppose, but I thought it would be a hell of a lot more interesting if the people on the bus wrote it, themselves. In order to make this happen, I recorded conversations going on around me on my everyday commutes, then merely transcribed them upon returning home every night. The final seven stories were culled from about 25 ride recordings.

If These Wheels Could Talk spread (story text); 34 x 6.5in., 116ppg. / 2004

The text of the conversation is set temporally. Gaps in conversation correspond to gaps in typography. Similarly, when more than one person speaks at a time, type overlaps. Though the book is over 100 pages, there are no page numbers. Rather, a small clock ticks by at the right side of each spread. Each character is given a color, icon and a typeface that correspond to their gender, age, and personality as I could glean them from my brief overhearings. New entrants to the story are cued with their icons as they become audible, as they so often do.

Concurrently with, and helping to deflect from, my overhearing, I shot abstract photography of the great machines and their surroundings for abstract visual context. Marbled rubber flooring, cracked vinyl seats and polished steel railings met with glimpses of light and corners as I rolled through the streets.

If These Wheels Could Talk spread (story / imagery); 34 x 6.5in., 116ppg. / 2004

Most of the text is actually quite small. It is the equivalent of the din of public chatter. It’s temporal setting and iconic cues offer a sense of volume and pace. But you don’t have to overhear very hard before someone says something that jumps clearly above white noise. Such gems were treated as pull quotes, set emotively within the photographic glimpses.

If These Wheels Could Talk spread (story / imagery / pull quote); 34 x 6.5in., 116ppg. / 2004

If These Wheels Could Talk spread (story / imagery / pull quote); 34 x 6.5in., 116ppg. / 2004

If you’re lucky, your point A and point B are driven between, directly, by one Metro bus. However, this is by no means guaranteed, particularly if those points are separated by some distance and/or are not represented as a stop within the downtown bus tunnel. For all other trips, you must transfer. As with most tax-starved public programs, I had learned early in my life to temper expectations of service, but the bus would almost always find a way to let me down, and never so low as when I was forced to wait to transfer to another bus. In order to bring this element into the frame, the book is not set up as a continuous ride with seven stops but, rather, seven consecutive rides with six transfers in-between, forcing you to wait between stories. Often for much longer than seems necessary.

It can take forever.

If These Wheels Could Talk spread (waiting); 34 x 6.5in., 116ppg. / 2004

Sometimes, just looking around can be interesting, though.

If These Wheels Could Talk spread (waiting); 34 x 6.5in., 116ppg. / 2004

…while you’re waiting.

If These Wheels Could Talk spread (waiting); 34 x 6.5in., 116ppg. / 2004

…and waiting.

Printed Metro schedules were useless because buses could never, ever stick to them. I always thought that buses should have tracking devices that would show, on a route map at every stop, where it actually was (a simple LED on the line would suffice). That way, you could make an informed decision about whether to wait, walk, cry, or go back home. But they still print schedules, anyway.

If These Wheels Could Talk spread (waiting); 34 x 6.5in., 116ppg. / 2004

If daytime ridership seems odd, then take a trip at night and prepare to redefine normal. Take away the people on their way to something productive and you’re left with a rare breed of incoherent vagabonds, charged up ramblers and the completely deranged. In other words, these words are gold. Two of the book rides take place at night, cued by a black backdrop. As well, the information graphics and text are reversed out of the nocturnal darkness.

If These Wheels Could Talk spread (bus arriving at night); 34 x 6.5in., 116ppg. / 2004

If These Wheels Could Talk spread (bus arriving at night); 34 x 6.5in., 116ppg. / 2004

Day breaks one more time to shine a light on the last story, which is primarily about getting off the bus, picking up on someone who meant to be picked up by another number. The ride stops before it starts and so the story goes away.

If These Wheels Could Talk spread (story leaving); 34 x 6.5in., 116ppg. / 2004

After all these years, and so many projects before and since, many for some of the most interesting organizations in the world, this book still holds a place very close to my heart. It was the bus that took me from one formative experience to another for much of my life, and it was the bus that drove me back to my life’s design.

I realized halfway into that drive down south that, for all the good that the bus embodied, I wasn’t meant to be its driver. For better or worse, I was always supposed to be a designer, and so I turned the car around and went back home. Shortly thereafter, I filled out some other government forms and reapplied to the University of Washington, where I went on to go through the VCD program. In the rite of passage from school to re-entry into career, it felt right to pay due respect to the wheels that got me there.

Election 2000 introductory screen; Flash interactive interface; 1024 x 768px. / 2004

All U.S. citizens are deeply affected—for better or worse—by the president in office. However, very few people know the intricacies of the presidential election process. This is not surprising, as it is super freakin’ complicated. The problem is that most are too jaded to care, even when their country is on the line.

For Interaction Design, one of the Senior year courses in the University of Washington Visual Communication Design program, we were given the task to explain the unexplainable to your average ignorant know-it-all who doesn’t want to be explained to. The aim of this project was to create an interactive interface to help inform the average high-school or university student about the United States presidential election process. As with several classes before, the project was divided into two distinct phases: In the first, we worked in groups to research the process and the various forces involved and brainstormed different interpretations thereof. In the second phase, we set off individually to define and create interactive Flash-based demonstrations of our particular concepts.

I had the good fortune of having three brilliant brains with whom to storm in phase one: Stephanie Cooper, Luke Jung and Tim Turner. As part of our comprehensive research process, we developed various interpretations of how the presidential election could be understood. We first set out to describe the components, both legal and otherwise influential…
[roll over images to enlarge]

U.S. presidential election variables, influential and legal; digital output; 11 x 8.5in. / 2004

We then divided the country (as elections do so well) to figure out how the importance of different factors were distributed geographically…

U.S. presidential election influence by geography; digital output; 17 x 11in. / 2004

We thought about how different issues become important and unimportant to constituents as days months and years turn into eras…

the evolution of important issues in U.S. presidential politics; digital output; 17 x 11in. / 2004

And how dramatically the face of a candidacy can change through just a few months of an intense campaign season, and thought about how shifts in different variables or combinations thereof could affect the big picture…

influential factors of the U.S. election process over time; digital output; 17 x 11in. / 2004

But we also noted that the face of the winning candidate hadn’t really changed at all in decades (as of 2004)…

physical appearance trends among recent presidents; digital output; 8.5 x 8.5in. / 2004

We thought about the thing in the back of people’s minds as they cast their votes (consciously or not)…

government ideology, between “I” and “we”; digital output; 11 x 3.5in. / 2004

And we analogized candidates’ tendancy toward ideological extremes in the beginning—to establish that they are “different” and true—followed inevitably by significantly tempering their platform as the process goes on in efforts—to broaden their support base. Once they get in, there is often another shift that many don’t anticipate.

comparing the U.S. presidential election process to grocery shopping; digital output; 17 x 11in. / 2004

With all this drama, we wondered what would motivate a registered voter to actually vote.

what motivates people to act; digital output; 11 x 11in. / 2004

All the while, we had been digging into the real, legal parameters of the U.S. election process to try to make sense of it all. After distilling, simplifying and paring down as much as possible, then using the smallest type sizes that would still be legible, we were able to fit it all onto a page. A page that is about four feet long and two feet high…

Presidential Politics poster; digital plot output; 45 x 26.5in. / 2004

From here, it was off to the races, so to speak. We each took our foundation and built our own concepts. My idea was to focus on the 2000 election as a case study. My thought was that, by focusing on such a recent election (at the time), users would be able to learn more about certain events that should still be fresh in their minds, and correlate them to the legal aspects of a standard election process. Moreover, by focusing on such an odd, controversial election, users would have the opportunity to learn about the most obscure of contingencies and contemplate just how valuable their individual contribution to the process can be, even if it is just in a single vote.

The first task was to design a concept map of our intended experience. I thought the relative power of different categories of the population as different factors came into play through the campaign and election process would be an interesting construct on which to build my user path, so I first set out the parties and the variables…

2000 election interactive educational experience concept map (key); digital printout; 8.5 x 8.5in. / 2004

…and then laid out their interactions over the course of the process. The one who got the farthest, won.

2000 election interactive educational experience concept map; digital printout; 17 x 8.5in. / 2004

As an entry point into the design phase, we were tasked with “wireframing” intended user paths through a few pages. Wireframes are almost always done as black and white schematics, roughly in the proportion of the screen being designed to, with just plain text and boxes arranged in a manner intended to convey relative hierarchy rather than prescribe composition.

In this phase, I figured the main artery of the experience would be through the sequence of campaign events leading up to the inauguration, but that one could jump to any significant day in the process (be it noted for an official event, a press release or scandal emergence or other happening). Once users clicked into one of these events there would be a comparison of What it is, the official explanation of what is legally prescribed for such an event and What happened, a description of the way the event actually transpired in 2000. Additionally, users could learn more about and compare the candidates who ran in another realm of the experience.

My original title for this interactive experience was What Happened??!!, which spoke both to the nature of discovery inherent in learning about such a fundamental rite of citizenship, as well as to the sheer outrage that people should have—but mostly didn’t—feel about how incredibly poorly the 2000 presidential election was handled.

This was all well and good, but I ended up roadblocking myself soon thereafter. Wireframing can be a handy transitional exercise, but, if you’re not careful, those black and white boxes just get filled in with color and nice looking typography and, before you know it, you have a very schematic looking design. This is exactly what happened to me.

I wasn’t concerned initially, as I thought my case study/comparison idea (and that funny title) was enough to buy me a willing audience, and that I just needed to build an interface around it that was intuitive to navigate. I started off with a sort of a Mac-OSX-columns-plus-transit-map-ish design that was fine in terms of navigating different types of information but just wasn’t that interesting, visually. Moreover, it did nothing to help express any sort of idea or editorial perspective that might interest and engage someone enough to actually spend time with and, hopefully, learn from the experience.

What Happened?!! sequence/events/legal-political screen; Flash interactive interface; 1024 x 768px. / 2004

What Happened?!! event detail; 1024 x 768px. / 2004

Luckily, I was fortunate enough to have a professor that wasn’t going to let me get away with this. To put it more accurately, he called bullshit on my simplistic pseudo-Modernist UX mashup. He urged me to think about how the public engaged with the 2000 election, and how I could translate this graphically and interactively.

I personally counted the 2000 election as a criminal act, and it still makes me mad. Perhaps the most serious decision that would be made in shaping our country for the following four years turned into farce. Fraught with deceit, scandal-mongering, secret handshakes and incompetence, all hidden in plain sight, the whole process was a fraud, but the most annoying thing to me was that nobody seemed to get how ridiculous it was, let alone care.

So, I came back to class with three new concepts that highlighted this perspective in one way or another…

The first, an interface based on the vernacular of the drugstore tabloid, was the most visceral and perhaps the least sophisticated in terms of taking advantage of the medium (though I never explored much further than the cover screen). The greatest value in this was its dramatic counterpoint to the clinical wireframe-y stuff I had been doing, and it was an effective lighting rod for putting more of myself on the line. In this, the primary navigation would be through the scandalous final throes of the 2000 election and the process and candidates would have their features on the back pages of the experience.

The 2000 National Election interactive educational experience interface; 1024 x 768px. / 2004

The next concept was based on the infamous butterfly ballot, a 35+ year-old relic whose grossly unintuitive layout had untold scads of voters accidentally casting for right wing conservative extremist Pat Buchannan instead of mainstream Democrat Al Gore. This standard tally-taker in Palm Beach then had the re-counters steaming over dimpled and/or hanging chads until the Supreme Court told them to go home before they even finished. In this meta-experience, users would be forced to use this exceedingly poor design to navigate through the site. It is likely that they would end up quite irritated by frequent unexpected results (and at least some point would be made in that).

Election 2000, Exploring Exactly How Your Vote Counted interactive educational experience interface; 1024 x 768px. / 2004

The third concept went beyond vernacular reference to physical artifacts and abstracted the experience to evocative communication. This was least obvious but perhaps the most sophisticated interpretation of the idea, in that the interaction itself was expressive of my editorial perspective without unduly satirizing or hindering access to the information.

The premise was simple. The entire election process is there for anyone to learn more about, but its shown how most Americans viewed it: kind of blurry, veiled in an acidic haze that was difficult to understand but superficially unobtrusive.

However, if the user puts a modicum of effort into investigation of the events, information becomes perfectly sharp in a big gray area.

Election 2000 interactive educational experience; introductory screen (default and rollover state); Flash interface / 2004

Once a user clicks in, the default screen shows a sequence of legal/political requirements, from primaries and caususes through conventions, debates, the general election, the particular legal contingencies that arose thereafter in 2000, the electoral college and, finally, inauguration. Users can navigate the events by name as they are listed vertically in the main area, timeline—a segmented bar graph that shows the relative length of each event, or by specific date in the calendar blocks at the bottom, and all are correlated.

Election 2000 interactive educational experience; default sequence of events screen; Flash interface; 1024 x 768px. / 2004

Again, rolling over any of these entry-points (e.g., the time bar for National Conventions) breaks a clear, sharp edged path through the different entry points.

Click to enlarge

Election 2000 interactive educational experience; default sequence of events screen (national convention time bar rolled over); Flash interface; 1024 x 768px. / 2004

Clicking an event further breaks through the screen and presents two frames of reference: What it is and What Happened. Within each event, there are four sub-navigation options: Overview, Involvement, Location, and Duration of the event. The viewer can then learn about the official process (what was supposed to happen) and the 2000 election (what actually happened) by noting their similarities and differences.

Election 2000 interactive educational experience; national conventions – involvement – what it it vs. what happened screen state; Flash interface; 1024 x 768px. / 2004

When viewing the timeline by event, the dates are keyed on the relative timeline with pink (Republican), baby blue (Democrat) or purple (others). Clicking into one of these breaks open a detailed look, like this transcript of Gore’s email to Bush Jr. upon their respective party nominations, in which he encourages the Republican to join him in changing the way campaigns are run (done!) and restore voters’ faith in the electoral process (hm… not quite).

Election 2000 interactive educational experience; event detail screen; Flash interface; 1024 x 768px. / 2004

If users wanted to learn more about these crazy characters, they could check out the Candidate Profiles section, which presents them with three columns of runners, again color-coded by party. The default setting would show a Democratic column on the left, a Republican column in the center (perhaps it should have been on the right) and an Other Parties column after that. Clicking a blurry name cuts gray information into the soft veneer.

Election 2000 interactive educational experience; Candidate Profiles default column set (Al Gore clicked into); Flash interface; 1024 x 768px. / 2004

But buttons at the bottom of each column allow users to toggle column party assignments, so the user could potentially compare any two candidates (e.g., two Democrats and a Republican, or three Independents, etc.), Like here, where we can see Gore compared to Harry Browne (who??) and the ever-too-present party-crasher, Ralph Nader.

Election 2000 interactive educational experience; Candidate Profiles Democrat / Independent / Independent column set comparing Al Gore, Harry Browne and Ralph Nader; Flash interface; 1024 x 768px. / 2004

I don’t know if widespread implementation of this interactive experience would have gotten the American population to care enough to learn from the disastrous mistakes of 2000, but they certainly didn’t learn much on their own. Voter turnout did increase in 2004, but the dirtiest politics in decades again won out over clear thinking. Four years after that, and people finally decided for change, but not really, as it turns out. If only there was a way to vote on the average American…

Multiple Choice, Alternatives to the Worn Out Model of U.S. Transportation booklet; front cover; 4.5 x 4.5in.; 28ppg. / 2003

Teen angst is a powerful force not often harnessed for forward progress. At the same time, many of today’s most overwhelming transportation problems are fueled by inertia. There is one predominantly accepted model that most people of driving age accept as given and therefore perpetuate. If there’s one thing kids hate, it’s being told that they have to do something a certain way. Multiple Choice plays between both of these phenomena.

This book, one of a few projects undertaken for the Publications course in the UW Visual Communication Design program, was designed as a thought leadership piece that might be put out by a major car maker to mark an openness to new ideas, sparking productive discourse on the future of transportation…

Content is related to the youth in abstracted vernacular of the age-old standardized test. But the point that’s being driven throughout is that, unlike such tests, these issues have more than one right answer, and the answer most commonly accepted is not necessarily right at all. This isn’t a test after all; it’s a challenge.

At the beginning of each section, two questions are posed: concerning the current situation: Why?, with the prevailing, claustrophobic choice as the only choice, and, considering several alternatives in an open context, Why not?.

The book is divided into four sections. The first, Dinosaur Technology, focuses on fuels, asking Why only fossil fuels? (as illustrated by oil derrick bubbles) and Why not hydrogen/fuel-cell, electric, solar, biodiesel or even wind-power?

Multiple Choice, Alternatives to the Worn Out Model of U.S. Transportation booklet; front cover; 4.5 x 4.5in.; 28ppg. / 2003

The sections then cite a quote about the detrimental effects of the current “right answer”—here an excerpt from The Nation decrying the inefficiency and inscrutable political backing of fossil fuel—while sharing brief descriptions of the alternatives.

Multiple Choice, Alternatives to the Worn Out Model of U.S. Transportation booklet; Dinosaur Technology chapter head; 9 x 4.5in. (spread); 28ppg. / 2003

In the spirit of test-taking, each description begins with a simple question. The writing is kept brief and light, but informative. At the end of each section, simple information graphics compare relevant statistics between all of the choices, such as mile per dollar, contrasted with contrary government subsidy.

Multiple Choice, Alternatives to the Worn Out Model of U.S. Transportation booklet; Dinosaur Technology chapter head; 9 x 4.5in. (spread); 28ppg. / 2003

The next section, Vehicular Suicide, focuses on efficient uses of vehicles, asking Why single-occupancy in large vehicles like SUVs, and Why not carpooling, public transportation, motorcycling, cycling, or even the curious Segway?

Multiple Choice, Alternatives to the Worn Out Model of U.S. Transportation booklet; Vehicular Suicide chapter head; 9 x 4.5in. (spread); 28ppg. / 2003

Multiple Choice, Alternatives to the Worn Out Model of U.S. Transportation booklet; Vehicular Suicide alternative descriptions; 9 x 4.5in. (spread); 28ppg. / 2003

Information graphics compare emissions per person per day with cost per day.

Multiple Choice, Alternatives to the Worn Out Model of U.S. Transportation booklet; Vehicular Suicide information graphics; 9 x 4.5in. (spread); 28ppg. / 2003

The third section, Going Nowhere Fast, focuses on how those vehicles get from point-A to point-B, and asks Why just the static highway tangles currently in place? and Why not some more efficient, safe and/or easy alternatives, such as splitting highway systems into levels for different uses, automatically-linked vehicle caravans, hyper-efficient magnetic track systems or even more futuristic bubble technology?

Multiple Choice, Alternatives to the Worn Out Model of U.S. Transportation booklet; Going Nowhere Fast chapter head; 9 x 4.5in. (spread); 28ppg. / 2003

Multiple Choice, Alternatives to the Worn Out Model of U.S. Transportation booklet; Going Nowhere Fast chapter head; 9 x 4.5in. (spread); 28ppg. / 2003

This section is summed up with comparisons of time wasted in traffic in different U.S. cities currently, ranging anywhere from about 50 to 80 hours per year.

Multiple Choice, Alternatives to the Worn Out Model of U.S. Transportation booklet; Going Nowhere Fast chapter head; 9 x 4.5in. (spread); 28ppg. / 2003

Lastly, What Now? asks readers to contemplate what to do with all these choices and offers an interactive CD-ROM with tunes for the next commute, as well as information on how the youths’ can use their informed chutzpah to challenge friends, family, and political representatives whose standstill status quo is so rarely challenged otherwise.

Multiple Choice, Alternatives to the Worn Out Model of U.S. Transportation booklet; What Now? information/CD; 9 x 4.5in. (spread); 28ppg. / 2003

Prosophobia promotional poster; 24 x 36in. / 2002

The most celebrated role of the designer has always been that of creator of positive change through innovation, but battling the public’s inclination to treasure the old and suspect the new has historically been tough going. The current of ominous world events (especially at the time of this project’s conception, painfully close to 9/11) only serves to shore up such public reservation. For many people, the comfort of the familiar is too valuable to risk on new ideas. This promotes a homogeneous, retro-centric design market in which the new is often merely another iteration of the old.

Prosophobia (“fear of progress”) was a concept for an international design conference that would explore why many of these constructs exist and how we as designers can continue to champion progress in this environment. Featured presentations were to be given by historians, behaviorists and economists, as well as a diverse range of design leaders successfully implementing progressive work, despite this prosophobic culture.

Being a design event (and a design school project, no less), a promotional / informational poster was a critical application, and set the visual theme for the balance of the comprehensive identification and communication suite. After several dramatic, antagonistic early concepts, including a God-like hand pushing down the sunrise, a Volkswagen “New Beetle” reversing into the viewer and even a revolver loaded with antiquities and ready to fire, an approach more considerate of both sides of the matter prevailed. The front presents the issue in a re-contextualized image reminiscent of the silent film era, showing a figure literally hanging onto the past for dear life, while the flip-side speaks to the present (signified by digital visual language) offering information on the voices on offer in the conference, and an invitation to participate in the future…

Prosophobia promotional poster (back); 24 x 36in. / 2002

When discussing professional issues of the times, designers love trading between roles of preacher and choir, probably more than any other group of people in the world. Such is the nature of a profession that practitioners find unequivocally noble but cannot hope to defend quantitatively, and thus can only be explained to those who “get it,” thus, ensuring that those who don’t get it never will. While there is no denying that Prosophobia would primarily be an event by and for designers, the issue at hand is societal, so a widespread awareness campaign was designed to stimulate dialogue in the greater human community about the conference, its premise and what it means to them.

Prosophobia subway poster; 22 x 22in. / 2002

Prosophobia magazine sidebar ad; 3.25 x 9.5in. / 2002

Of course, the best way to reach someone is to talk to them directly, which this contact card was designed to help facilitate.

Prosophobia contact card (front and back); 2 x 3.5in. (each) / 2002

In order to reach specific audiences, it’s crucial to influence the influencers in prominent media of such respects. That’s where the letterhead and media release come in, as vehicles for formal correspondence and PR. With proper information and prodding, people would have been compelled to bring their influence and the rest of their bodies to the actual event, which is made simple with a sharp registration form.

Prosophobia letterhead, media release and registration form; 8.5 x 11in., 8.5 x 14in. and 8.5 x 11in., respectively / 2002

Envelopes make such correspondence much easier to mail.

Prosophobia No.10 commercial envelope (back / flap and front) and No.10 catalog envelope (back / flap and front with die-cut, crack-and-peel address label) / 2002

Once the audiences’ attention has been captured for a minute, they are directed to a promotional / informational web site, where the minute quickly disappears (and then so does more and more time). This flash of loss animates into the the primary content, where visitors could gain knowledge of the event, such as speaker bios, accommodations, and features, as well as register for the conference.

Prosophobia web site; 1024 x 768px.+; interactive Flash interface (shown here in an animated storyboard) / 2002

As a symbolic celebration of Modernity’s rare but powerful triumphs, the conference was to be held in conjunction with the grand re-opening of the MoMA in New York after Yoshio Taniguchi’s architectural expansion / remodel in 2005. (Taniguchi was also to give the keynote address.) Seen here is a detail of way-finding signage in-situ.

Prosophobia directional signage; vinyl on Plexiglas; 10 x 10 x .25in. (each) / 2002

Once at the conference, attendees would be provided a number of things to help them kick the Prosophobia: A time table of all of the events they could plug into…

Prosophobia program schedule tri-fold brochure (outside spread / inside spread); 3 x 6in. (finished), 9 x 6in. (flat) / 2002

A DVD documenting the feature presentations, breakout sessions and round-table discussions…

Prosophobia documentary DVD; standard dimensions / 2002

And, of course, a commemorative watch, so attendees could always have the public interest at hand (it runs backwards).

Prosophobia commemorative wrist watch; reverse movement / 2002

Don’t be late!

Stark original typeface design / 2002

Ignore the Din and find a new Trade. Here comes another lean, monosyllabic hero of noir typography. He takes his briefcase locked, his drinks neat and his checks made out to “cash.” He takes wise guys to the cleaners and the birds take him just the way he is. He’s got a hardboiled manner and doesn’t care for idle banter, thank you, so you can keep the jibber-jabber to yourself. He’ll tell you what you need to know and nothing more. But he’s not just another working stiff. He’s got working class.

He’s got a cleft chin and a sordid past with which you need not concern yourself. All that matters is on the dotted lines. He stands tall but keeps a low profile. He’s sharp as nails and almost as kind. He doesn’t want to be your best friend but he’s probably the man you want on the case. He’s Stark…

Stark is a long drink of water with a shadow to match. He stands up straight and keeps his cards sewn to his chest. He’ll light a cigarette in your office and wear it low on his lip as he tells your rags right from wrong. You can put this on the record because it’s official business of capital import:

Stark caps / 2002

Well, if you’re going to stick around, you may as well take a seat, but don’t get too comfortable. After a long headline and a night-cap, Stark still wears his gaze under a slanted brim and he isn’t afraid to give a wink in casual setting. But if you give him the jumble, he’ll give you the hook. Pay attention, kid, because he’s never without a clipped counter in any exchange and he’s already seen plenty other pretty faces:

Stark lower case / 2002

Stark just deals in the facts, ma’am, and he’ll break the numbers to you—good or bad—with the same stamps of authority:

Stark numerals / 2002

When it comes to the end of the line, you can rest assured knowing Stark gave you a piece of his mind. Chances are, he’ll leave your punctuation hanging (but don’t quote me on that):

Stark selected punctuation / 2002

Well, it looks like that’s another one for the books. Best to just keep on moving before you get yourself into trouble. Forget everything you just saw. But if you’ve got a tough file that you need straightened out, you know where to look. You’d better watch closely, though, sport; Stark may just have designs on your desk.


The End

Behind the Scenes

Some early sketches for Stark were published in Designing Type by Karen Cheng (the Professor under whom I studied type design at the University of Washington). You might want to do yourself a favor and pick up a copy. He’s on page 155. And the rest of the book is pretty good, too:

Designing Type by Karen Cheng; cover and inside spread showing early sketches for Stark (on the right page); Yale University Press / 2006

Moon typeface / 2002 (setting of lyrics excerpted from “Space Oddity” by David Bowie)

Spacey, technical, open and angular, functional close or far, and emotionally open, Moon is a typeface for the future. Or at least for writing about it. Although its geometry makes it modern and compelling in display setting, the strategically placed serif bits (technically, Moon would fall into the “semi-sans” category) flow together even dense columns of communiqué. Special touches and extras give this face an alluring Hal-like techno-emotional identity complex…

When it comes to delivering critical messages, capital letters have long stood at the top of the world. Letter for letter, no other case brings more urgent credibility to your message than the cap. The more caps, the more determined. But, in so many faces, cap settings become such a bore in all their rectilinear monotony, like so much parental lecturing. Moon’s caps know what’s right and are not afraid to tell you what’s wrong, but the organic distribution of rounded and open forms, interacting with angular legs and serifs, allow enough engagement to discuss the matter:

Moon font: capital letters and lining numerals / 2002

Lining numerals allow for proof to be delivered confidently as top-level information, but are open enough to persuade the cautiously skeptical.

The lower case continues where the caps leave off, delivering the bulk of most standard communication with a rarified combination of technical precision and airy—dare I say, “friendly”?—humanity:

Moon font: lower case letters and text numerals / 2002, 2008

The lines between computation and digression are further blurred by the choice of classically-inspired text numerals as an option for setting in prose.

Speaking of digression… As typeface communication continues its rise to supremacy over human face communication, the fonts of today reveal themselves to be increasingly threadbare in their attempt to keep up. While great writers can pull the most powerful emotional strings with an Apollo-era typewriter and a cerebral hand, this is not the mindset of the majority of today’s typists. The new communicator places a premium on expediency and response, and relies heavily on hopelessly inadequate typographic patches like emoticons to express their slashed words for them (and, by the way, how many people were really aching for a quicker way to express “Vampire bat”?).

What if the typeface, itself, was more expressive? Though, presently, there is only one weight of Moon (Roman Moon), other weights were always part of the plan for the future (Half Moon, Full Moon, etc.), and would be essential tools to express emphasis or restraint. But what if temporal strain, too, could be captured in the extension of a letter-sound? As an additional spacey touch, super extended vowel forms allow for such techno-humanist expression:

Moon font: special extended vowels and standard punctuation / 2002

This is, of course, one small step for typeface exploration. The possibilities to realize key-borne expression for the mankind of tomorrow are galactic. The centuries-old groundwork of typography is absolutely still relevant, but the needs of type are evolving. Current standards are being necessarily co-opted by a new world order of communicators, a practice quietly being ignored by typographers (guilty, but aware). Moon may just be another typeface, but I’d suggest its future is wide open.

Sylloge typeface (promotional collage) / 2002

All type says something more than that which has been written. Some writing is logical. Therefore, some typefaces can make prose seem more logical than it actually is. This is an example of syllogistic reasoning. This is Sylloge, an original typeface design…

Sylloge typeface (elements) / 2002
(+) Click to enlarge and see complete character set.

Its character is wise; believable; stable in its bracketed, serifed footing; distinguished by graceful nuance; considered in its humanistic stroke weight variation; resolute in its straight stance. This is the perfect face to put forth for one’s most ardent case.

Sylloge typeface (text numerals) / 2002
(+) Click to enlarge and see complete character set.

Numbers like this don’t lie. Just think how comfortably they would sit even in the thick of the discussion. Not like those ruffian lining numerals that shout so inappropriately at cap height all the time.

But the designer must always be conscientious. One should never use a pretty face to say something disingenuous. What is written is still far more important than the typeface in which it is spelled. Syllogistic fallacies are not uncommon, and they still pass for logic.

So here is Sylloge. Type carefully.