University of Washington School of Art, Sand Point studio door window sign concept; approx. 3.25 x 6n.; plotted output on foamcore / 2003

In my younger scholastic career, I often charged headfirst through the parametric walls of an assignment to ensure that my work would be noticed. In a drawing class I took early on at university, the professor told me that the way I worked was like writing an English paper in Russian. I chalked up experiences like this to standard-fare artist plight and soldiered on. Ironically, my head full of steam soon chugged me right on out of the School of Art. Upon my return some years later, I had a clearer head, but I also had a much keener sense of the power of boundaries. I understood that it was actually keeping the rules recognizable that revealed the cleverness of their kneading, pushing or rearranging.

As I was making my comeback into the University of Washington, the School of Art was pushing its own boundaries, acquiring gallery and studio space for select students and faculty in a building of the former Sand Point Naval Base in Seattle. Then edging myself toward the sharp end of the student body, I was commissioned to design a way-finding sign system for the building.

Sign systems are often droll affairs, so bound by their function that they are stiff and invisible. There are good reasons for not getting too editorial in this discipline, of course: you don’t want anyone to get lost in the cleverness of the sign before they find where they’re going, especially in emergency situations where one might need to know exactly how to get to the bathroom, or worse, get the hell out of the building.

Overseen by School of Art Director and Visual Communication Design Professor Chris Ozubko, I came up with a few concepts that I was pretty confident would get people into the restrooms and out of the building as necessary, but also expressed a bit of the unique personality of what was going on in the space while they could appreciate it…

The first idea was perhaps the most basic tangible expression of art and its process: a tacit blob waiting for interpretation: a splat of paint, a daub of putty, a raw edge—the remnants of creation or the subject of an observation.

University of Washington School of Art, Sand Point studio door window sign concept placement; approx. 3.25 x 6in.; plotted output on foamcore / 2003

University of Washington School of Art, Sand Point studio map sign concept; approx. 7 x 15in.; plotted output on foamcore / 2003

University of Washington School of Art, Sand Point studio room signs; approx. 5 x 4in. (each); plotted output on foamcore / 2003

University of Washington School of Art, Sand Point studio room sign (placement); approx. 5 x 4in.; plotted output on foamcore / 2003

The next concept took inspiration from the heritage of the building and the honor of its boarders. This space was not for just anyone. Artists and faculty were granted temporary stays based on the hard-won merit judged by their superiors, much like the honors symbolized by the ribbons of the naval officers before them.

reference: U.S. Naval ribbons and badges (detail of left breast, partially obscured by lapel); source

University of Washington School of Art, Sand Point studio door window sign concept placement; approx. 3.25 x 3.25in.; plotted output on foamcore / 2003

University of Washington School of Art, Sand Point studio map sign concept; approx. 6 x 15in.; plotted output on foamcore / 2003

University of Washington School of Art, Sand Point studio room sign concepts; approx. 8 x 2.5in. (each); plotted output on foamcore / 2003

University of Washington School of Art, Sand Point studio room sign concepts; approx. 8 x 2.5in. (each); plotted output on foamcore / 2003

The final, chosen and implemented direction did no such metaphoric nudging. Rather, it punctuated the functional humdrum so brutally so as to disquiet. Discreet bits of information were forced apart and stamped into individually assigned planes of a particular shape, size, rotation and color. The stark economy of visual language gave it a deliberate chord that echoed the very tenor of spacial volume, itself.

University of Washington School of Art, Sand Point studio door window sign; approx. 3.25 x 6.5in.; plotted output on foamcore / 2003

University of Washington School of Art, Sand Point studio map sign; 10.5 x 18in.; plotted output on foamcore / 2003

University of Washington School of Art, Sand Point studio room signs; 5 x 5in. (each); plotted output on foamcore / 2003

University of Washington School of Art, Sand Point studio room sign (placement); 5 x 5in.; plotted output on foamcore / 2003

I sometimes wonder what that drawing professor would have thought of this system had we ever had the occasion to rap about it (or anything else after I left his class some years before). Would he have been proud of my efforts? Had I learned to visualize in a language he felt appropriate? I can’t say. At least I spelled his name correctly.

Washington State Convention and Trade Center building (back/garden) / photo taken 2003

Sometime in the 1940s or ’50s (I’m not sure of the exact year), the term “corporate identity” was coined by Lippincott & Margulies—one of the first major design firms in the world—to describe both the idea that even large businesses have inherent, relatable characteristics, not unlike human beings, and the practice that could express their character through a fitting, comprehensive and consistent design program. An organization’s identity is expressed in every way they communicate, from their name and logo to their brochures and web site, to the way they answer the phone—whether those “touchpoints” are designed by professionals or not—so this was an important “call-to-action” (to use another industry term) for organizations to pay attention to everything they were communicating, and, ideally, to pay top-notch professionals like L&M to help them make sure they were doing so effectively.

Sometime in the 1990s, the term “brand” began to take over as more formal business strategy was becoming more prominently integrated into large-scale identity design programs, and it quickly went from buzz word to industry category, on which uncounted firms jumped. I have always found this nomenclature shift ironic. “Branding,” literally translated, is the superficial process of stamping a logo on your property (livestock, originally); this superficial logo stamping is exactly the perception that the “new” practice of “branding” was supposed to be rising above. Meanwhile, the word “identity” could already encompass every aspect what an entity is, from what they do to how they express it. But like many P/C nomenclature shifts of late, whether rational or not, “branding” has taken hold, and “identity” (preceded by “corporate” or not), has been deprecated.

Whatever it’s called, my formal introduction to the process of figuring out what an organization stands for and expressing it in a fitting design program was in a class called Identity Systems in the Visual Communication Design program at the University of Washington, sometime in 2003. Like a few other courses in the program, this one was broken into collaborative group and individual phases. Three-person groups were assigned one of four or five major local entities and tasked with research and analysis of the entity, en-route to the creation of a strategic brand platform. Based on this platform, we were then set about designing a fitting logo and building a supporting visual identity system, individually…

Working as a team, Jesse Graupmann, Tim Turner and I made many important discoveries in the course of our research of our assigned entity: The Washington State Convention and Trade Center (WSCTC). Through web exploration, personal interviews with convention center officials, several reconnaissance missions and the study of official documentation, we assessed strengths and weaknesses of its services, location, architecture, transportation integration, primary and secondary local and regional competition, primary and tertiary channels of communication, and its integration with the community, and we determined the primary, secondary and tertiary audiences to whom these mattered. We found that the Washington State Convention and Trade Center offers profound and unique benefits to its constituents that other entities could not match. We also came to the conclusion that their actual visual identity, emanating from the wheat stalk mark in their logo, did little to convey anything about the Center.

The actual Washington State Convention and Trade Center logo is a mash-up of heavy, stylized wheat stalks and stringy typography that does little if anything to express either what the WSCTC is, what it does, or how it does it; rumor had it that, as a state-funded but Seattle-located entity, this was an attempt to appeal to / appease agriculturally-focused Eastern Washingtonians / photo taken 2003

Primary among the WSCTC’s unique and defining aspects is the actual facility. By scale alone, the Center is unmissable, and has some beautiful features, even if it suffers from a somewhat disparate kit of parts. Half of the main façade is laid with flat, earth-tone blocks of stone while the other half has angular full-height windows jutting out into the street. This front meets with blocky glass walls which stair-step their way out the back of the building.

detail of theWashington State Convention and Trade Center’s contrasting stone and glass structure / photo taken 2003

As part of its 2000 expansion, A huge glass and steel arched bridge with a built-in meeting room overhangs Pike Street—a major downtown thoroughfare—bridging the two buildings of the WSCTC complex. This feature won little favor with locals who often express disdain for the sheer imposition, but serves as a nice metaphor for the connections made at the Center (and, it has a pretty great view).

view of theWashington State Convention and Trade Center’s enormous bridge and glass arcade, which actually encloses a block of Pike Street; photographer unknown

The structure is within walking proximity of myriad hotels, shops, restaurants, businesses, and residential complexes, and is connected to Freeway Park, a rich maze of concrete pathways and lush foliage that and ambles upward from Downtown up to culturally-rich Capitol Hill and First Hill neighborhoods.

detail of Freeway Park, an extension of the Washington State Convention and Trade Center; photo taken 2003

Access to the Center could hardly be easier. It has its own freeway exit, it’s own parking garage, it’s own shuttle and taxi dropoff, and its own station integrated into the Metro Bus Tunnel. There is also a car rental agency just across the street.

The Washington State Convention and Trade Center caters to three separate but related audiences. Those having primary business interaction with WSCTC representatives are professional event planners in charge of scheduling and coordinating events large and small for businesses, political entities and other organizations. Secondary audience members are the actual exhibitors and attendees of these events. There is also a tertiary audience served by the facility in the general community, who come to attend public exhibitions, meet friends or business contacts, enjoy the many pieces of artwork on display throughout the building, and/or patronize one or more of the many small businesses and shops within the Center.

view looking up from the interior of theWashington State Convention and Trade Center’s main hall / photo taken 2003

Like all major convention centers, the WSCTC provides accommodations for various sizes and types of events. Unlike most other such venues, however, the Washington State Convention and Trade Center has an extremely broad range of capability and the highest levels of service. Different room capacities and modular exhibition space can accommodate anywhere between two and twenty thousand attendees comfortably. In addition, the Center offers state-of-the-art technological services. Great pride is also taken in their award-winning catering service that’s second to none in the industry.

Being a tax supported state entity, the WSCTC is deeply involved in the interests of the general public. This was expressed most prominently in its expansion, which not only provided a convenient walking path between downtown and Capitol Hill and First Hill, but also afforded a significant increase in the abundance of publicly-funded low-income housing in the area. The building itself also showcases the work of numerous local, national and international artists and provides informal seating and gathering space, all free to the public every day of the week. In addition, the revenue earned by the Center contributes significantly to the state’s budget, leading to greater support of public programs.

Considering these factors and a wealth of information we had accumulated to support them, Jesse, Tim and I went to work synthesizing our findings and teasing out a simple strategic foundation.

We created a basic brand positioning framework, based on what the WSCTC offers its audiences, in terms of three “B”s…
The Business
Providing dependable facilities and services for event planners
The Benefit
Peace of mind that important experiences will be hosted adeptly
What’s Better
Premier location
Internationally-renowned service
Flexibility of space
Ability to host large-scale or complex events
Community integration and accessibility

And we decided upon five characteristics that best captured the personality of the organization…
Personality Attributes
Professional dependable; focused; orderly
Accommodating intimate; pleasurable; flexible; inviting
Metropolitan urban mystique; downtown; major city
Connected access to resources, people and technology/connectivity
Progressive fresh; up to date; constantly evolving

As we wove these facets together, we began to recognize a powerful thread that ran seamlessly through: Indeed, this idea in and of itself, was basically it! Something special happens when things come together. This is what the Washington State Convention and Trade Center is all about. When event planners work with hosts, or attendees and visitors experience an event, or each other, or the city, valuable experiences are created. The WSCTC is the venue, the forum, the intersection and the enabler of these powerful moments.

And so was born our interpretation of the heart of the WSCTC, meant to elegantly encapsulate the motivating factor behind everything the Washington State Convention and Trade Center did, and, in two words, captured both the importance of the physical venue and the service…
Brand Essence
Facilitating connections

From here, we developed a positioning/style matrix as a tool to visually aid us as designers, as well as the client (theoretically in this case) to ensure our intentions for the direction of the ensuing identity design was aligned, as well as solidifying previously synthesized brand elements. We chose the two most powerful, yet disparate personality traits of the brand, namely “professional” and “accommodating” as the top and bottom points on the vertical axis, while stylistic differences were opposed laterally between “representational” on the left, which would likely lead to a system based on physical features and “abstract” on the right, which would likely be more focused on qualitative interpretations of benefits. Scattered on the plot were logos of other organizations, both in and out of category, for reference.



Washington State Convention and Trade Center logo positioning/style matrix; vertical axis: “professional” (top) and “accommodating” (bottom), horizontal axis: “representational” (left) and “abstract” (right); initial area of focus for the WSCTC logo exploration circled; 17 x 11in. / 2003

It was soon after this point that each group member would take the research as they saw it and begin creating identity design individually. It is this matrix, then, that would provide the jumping-off point for each member’s design direction and process. Based on such, I made the rough determination that my direction would fall somewhere toward the “professional” end of the personality spectrum, and would likely be executed in a relatively abstract manner (as designated by the circle in the matrix above). As it happened, the logo and ensuing visual identity system was rather abstract, but referenced the actual building enough that it would probably be plotted a bit to the left of this initial focus.

Armed with the results of all of the preceding research (and then some), the sketch book was cracked open and ideas were turned into marks on paper. The scope of exploration was kept as broad as possible without straying from the brand platform. Of paramount importance was in expressing the brand promise, as a product of the personality traits of the organization. Several concepts were explored in a variety of ways, but the idea of “facilitating connections” drove the creative process from beginning to end.


Conception

Initial sketches utilized the arch as a reference to the building’s prominent architecture as well as a strong metaphor for bridging gaps and making connections. The letter W was integrated into some of these sketches as a connection to “Washington,” which could aid name recognition, but the center’s “Washington-ness” wasn’t a primary communication objective, so pursuing this was not of high importance (the WSCTC doesn’t compete much nationally, and Seattle is really the draw, anyway). Purely typographic solutions were also explored, utilizing custom ligatures within the logotype to convey the idea of connections. Also referencing the building’s architecture were sketches based on stair-stepped block devices:



Washington State Convention and Trade Center logo exploration; pencil on paper; 11 x 8.5in. / 2003


Continuation

At this point, several more abstract marks were considered in addition to refinement of previous ideas. Ideally, the mark would encompass all of the traits of the brand. Differing sizes of squares were used as primary elements as they offered reference to building architecture, event space, metropolitan grid system and so on. Various combinations and compositions were explored in an effort to convey not only connections being made but also a sense of flexibility of space and service:





Washington State Convention and Trade Center logo exploration; pencil on paper; full sheet and detail of mark studies; 11 x 8.5in. / 2003


Confirmation

Once the potential of these elements was recognized, the process of digital translation and refinement of various aspects of both the typography and the mark began to ensure they could translate properly to the final state:



Washington State Convention and Trade Center logo exploration; digital sketches / 2003


Coloration

Moving along further in the design process, color was introduced as an element while the final mark and typography were still being honed. Initially, just blues and yellows were considered as a professional yet lively palette.

The typography, too, was making progress. While myriad ligature-based options were explored to various degrees, they competed with the mark and cut down on legibility, so I eventually just cleaned up the type in favor of conceptual simplicity and compositional elegance.



Washington State Convention and Trade Center logo exploration / 2003


Convergence

While refining the overall composition of the mark and logotype, the possibility of the color blocks creating a third color at their intersection presented a very intriguing option. That the third color just so happened to be green, the perfect descriptor for Washington (it is “The Evergreen State,” after all) was too enticing to resist, and the mark decision had been made. Soon thereafter, the logotype was finalized and all that was left was to choose the exact color values, which only a comprehensive study could decide:



Washington State Convention and Trade Center logo color study / 2003


Completion

Everything has come together in the final logo. The simple, lowercase typography is inviting, but also has serious presence. The mark references the facility architecture and services, being created of connections between different elements; that it also dots the “i” in “convention” is a nod to the attention to detail of their acclaimed service. The composition is dynamic but balanced, crisp and clean.

Washington State Convention and Trade Center logo / 2003

Color Concessions

The mark and logotype have been designed to work well within the confines of any color space. Ideally, the three or four-color version is to be used whenever possible, but grayscale, spot-color and black-only versions have also been created so that the new identity may be used in any application.

Washington State Convention and Trade Center logo color variations: (from left to right) 3 or 4-color version, grayscale version, one color version, black only version / 2003

Contextualization

As the logo was being finalized, the visual system, or “kit-of-parts” of standard design elements and usage began. This ended up being incredibly close-in to the logo, which I now find unnecessarily constricted, as well as a bit stifling of the logo, itself. However, as a starting point for a completely new identity, it certainly would have reinforced recognition much more quickly and could have been built upon later.

The color palette is just swatch for swatch with the logo, with the cool, marine blue and vibrant yellow, which combine to create a crisp Washington apple green. The sizes of the swatches represent the relative intended usage, with the blue and the green most pervasive, for their strength of value, with the yellow being used for occasional highlights. Throwing in an even gray for a neutral was a bit default, but its recessive elegance does work. If I were to update this system, one of the first things I would look at would be to add a secondary palette of color triads, potentially related to some organizational structure (i.e., color-coding).

Washington State Convention and Trade Center color palette / 2003

Typefacial Expression

Any written communication must not only convey what needs to be said, but also express the tone in which it should be understood. For an organization with such a broad range of potential recipients of written communication, a font family with extensive versatility and clarity is crucial, but the brand must also be considered in this decision. With these factors in mind, three weights of Helvetica Neue were chosen for their tonal neutrality, maximum legibility and professional demeanor. Normal weights of standard format body copy is efficient and easily read, while bold, often colored lowercase titles and headings serve to keep the message friendly and contemporary.

Washington State Convention and Trade Center type system specimen; 17 x 11in. / 2003

As rational as all that may sound, this type spec is probably my least favorite aspect of this program, looking back on it. My primary dislike is not that it’s based on Helvetica, which I feel absolutely no shame in using under the right circumstances. The unfortunate thing is that it’s based on the exact same typeface as the logotype, which dilutes the logo’s impact and (especially since it’s Helvetica), makes the design system seem overly minimalist. I think a more traditional serif family actually could have easily given the applications a more sophisticated voice and added richness to the overall visual texture.


Multiplying the Message

Nothing makes an identity campaign more powerful than broad and cohesive usage thereof throughout an organization’s vast array of communications. Whether it’s the color of the dinner napkins or the tone of the copy writing on the web site, staying true to the brand is essential. A strong identity system makes it clear just who the organization are to everyone who encounters it.

Stationery has been the cornerstone of identity systems since I-don’t-know-when, though this era seems to be coming to an end. However, as archaic as it may seem these days, press-printed stationery is still used by organizations, especially by executives for formal correspondence, so it remains an important touchpoint to execute adroitly.

Washington State Convention and Trade Center stationery; standard U.S. dimensions / 2003

More specifically relevant for the Convention and Trade Center were name badges for visitors and staff.

Washington State Convention and Trade Center name badges for attendees (left) and staff (right); 4 x 3.25in. and 4 x 1.125in., respectively / 2003

In the above applications, you can start to see the how intersecting blocks are used as a tertiary design system element. Here, again, the idea seems solid, but way too close to the logo; this is where some of those secondary color triads could come into play to separate and add visual texture to the visual identity. I’m also not sure that every shape would have to be a rectangle. Perhaps arcs could come in, referencing the arches of the architecture and the idea of bridging, in general.

Like press-printed stationery, press-printed annual reports (and the design firms that focused on them so heavily) are becoming more and more rare, but this, too, is an incredibly important communication vehicle, and one of the few pieces of graphic design to which executives tend to pay any mind (since the primary audience is shareholders). In my exhibit below, I again reference the logo heavily, though I actually don’t mind it here, because of how it is used and the context: assuming this was the year the new brand identity was introduced, this could reinforce recognition and meaning by using the mark to highlight the actual facility and connections alluded to by the bridge. The only thing I really dislike about this exhibit is that it seems to imply that the annual report covers two years, which just doesn’t make sense.

Washington State Convention and Trade Center 2003 | 2004 Annual Report cover; 8.5 x 11in. / 2003

Sometime in the early- to mid-2000s, the web site took over as the most important touchpoint of almost every brand in the world. Toward the beginning of that range, many of these began with some sort of Flash animated “intro,” which were almost invariably the most frivolous wastes of the medium. Being 2003, I created a basic web site “look and feel,” duly preceded it by a frivolous (though mercifully short) Flash intro. I don’t actually mind the basic idea of the animation—of the three logo blocks coming together to create the logo (though, again, it could use modulation of different colors or other means of activating it). I just think it should have been thought of as an sequence for digital event screen backdrops for conference rooms or something equally meaningful for the WSCTC instead of a throwaway on the web site.

Aside from some system monotony and the difficult small type, I think the web site page design is pretty good; it certainly has a lot more potential than the actual WSCTC site design.

Washington State Convention and Trade Center web site; logo animation, home page; 800 x 600px.+ / 2003

There are few more satisfying feelings than seeing your logo built into a sign. When your design is measured in feet, is made out of metal, weighs hundreds of pounds and requires a small crane to put it in place, you know the client is proud. You can also be pretty sure they aren’t going to change the logo anytime soon, since the time, logistic and monetary costs of sign implementation are formidable, and not something any organization wants to do very often. For the WSCTC, seeing my logo actually put up on the main façade would have been pretty satiating, indeed—especially since the facility more or less is the brand. Of course, this didn’t happen since this was just a school project, but I did do a sketch of how it might have looked if it had.

Washington State Convention and Trade Center façade sign; approx. 35 x 20ft. / 2003

While seeing my logo as shown would have been cool, I must admit that I’m not completely satisfied with this exhibit, either. I like the simplicity of it, but I think some subtle plane shifts in the mark and more consideration of materials, dimensionality and possibly even lighting could have really brought the sign to the next level, so to speak.

On a more functional level, I also designed some examples of interior signage. Even though these are based straight off the logo mark—certainly another example of the very close-in approach to the visual identity system—the addition of different levels of informational iconography set on the different levels of the marks helps support the meaning of the identity, rather than clash therewith.

Washington State Convention and Trade Center interior signs; approx. 12 x 12in. (each); vinyl on acrylic / 2003
top row: room signs (two sections of the same room) | men’s room | ladies room
middle row: bus transportation | taxi transportation | food/restaurant | coffee shop
bottom row: elevators | public telephones | information desk

Below, you can see how some of this and other signage could be implemented on the interior. If given another chance at this, I would strongly consider another color for the walls, or at least an accent here and there. The digital sign could use some TLC, as well. And, in a perfect world, I would commission custom carpeting that could incorporate a unique, WSCTC identity system pattern.

Washington State Convention and Trade Centerinterior signage / 2003

Back outside, then, are a couple tertiary sign locations, where just the mark would be sufficient, as well as temporary event banners (the signs outside the WSCTC were already this angled shape). Here, like the interior signs, the overlapping color system helps differentiate levels of information hierarchy. Though in this case, when used as visual texture, I again would likely assign these an appropriate secondary color triad that would allow the logo to stand out more prominently.

Washington State Convention and Trade Center tertiary signs and event banner signs; approx. 12 x 12ft., 6 x 6ft. and 3 x 9ft., ccw from upper left / 2003

Perhaps the most interesting extension of the identity system I designed was a sculpture intended for the back garden/park. In this piece, translucent blue and yellow lucite blocks would stack into each other, with the apple green naturally being created at the intersections between them. As a three-dimensional expression of the mark and its references to different spaces, places, and unique connections, it could also become known as landmark meeting point, in and of itself.

Washington State Convention and Trade Center park sculpture; approx. 6 x 6 x 6ft.; translucent lucite / 2003

I’m not sure whether this class project opened me up to it, but, I have since gone on to spend the majority of my (still rather young) career helping shape the identities of corporations and other organizations (rather than, say, designing annual reports). I’ve even gotten used to referring to clients’ identities as “brands,” though I still bristle at the superficial connotations of the term “branding” to describe the work, as the strategic depth and spectrum of expression of the design work brings real value to clients.

Sometime in 2007, I actually started working at Lippincott (the name has been shortened from the original Lippincott & Margulies, but it’s still the same company). Though the nomenclature may be different, the core idea the firm brought to light 50 or 60-some years ago still holds true. Organizations, corporate or otherwise, are like people, and in each is an opportunity to awaken their senses from the inside out, to help them discover who they are, what makes them unlike any other, and to help them express their unique character in every way they are met. I don’t think that will ever change.

Rumpelstiltskin would approve. recycling awareness campaign postcard, showing PET bottles going into winter gloves; 7 x 5 in. / 2002

“Designer” is an ethereal thing to call oneself, fraught with misconception and expectation. When I describe myself as such, people I meet invariably respond with the exact same, ever-more-annoying, eight-word phrase: “Oh—that’s, like, with computers and stuff, right?” (I can only imagine that there was some 20/20 John Stossel exposé about the suspicious rise of the machines in the late ’80s—replete with footage of designers large in glasses and shoulder-padding huddled around a tiny Macintosh, working to draw pastel and black magic from it—that permanently ingrained this concept in society at large.) Moreover, most people assume I use my computers and stuff for advertising, where I spin everyday goods into objects of mythical lust…

The truth is, they’re right. Ironically, most of the people who assume my job is about computers rely on them far more than I in order to successfully carry out a project (seriously, who doesn’t use computers these days?), but computers are used as tools to build design files (the ideas, however, still have to come out of a human head). And the line between advertising and design is blurry and often crossed. In setting up this project for our Visualizations class in the Visual Communication Design program at the University of Washington, our professor relayed a quip from a friend of his that went something like this: “Design is a lame idea that just looks good. Advertising is a great idea that looks like crap.” In addition to being pretty humorous, this is also about as true as it is frightening. The last thing I want to do is make something look good for no reason.

Our assignment, then, was to choose from one of several public interests and devise a suitably “big idea” that would powerfully illuminate the subject from a new perspective. This idea would form the backbone of a campaign—typically the domain of the “Ad Man” (sorry, ladies; no clever name for you). To keep us thinking big (and to be sure we didn’t delve into any typical designer-y things involving complex or abstract typography, or ironic plays on the medium), we were limited to just three words for the entire campaign, and they had to carry the idea across a vast range of formats. And, we were supposed to make it look good, too.

Rumpelstiltskin would approve. recycling awareness campaign poster, showing PET bottles going into canvas messenger bags; 24 x 36 in. / 2002

My topic was recycling, and my big idea was based on the notion that truth is stranger than fable. Recycling realizes far more than most people believe it can. Every year, hundreds of millions of pounds of PET plastic (e.g., soda pop bottles) are recycled, but where do they go? Well, aside from new soda bottles, many industries have used this material as an effective alternative to more expensive, less eco-friendly, and/or simply inferior traditional resources. In fact, recycled PET is used every day to create new products such as lumber, fencing, furniture, and auto parts.

Rumpelstiltskin would approve. recycling awareness campaign bus sign, showing PET bottles going into fleece vests; approx. 20 x 4 ft. / 2002

Perhaps the most successful example of this visionary recycling is the work of the clothing industry. Though hard to believe, soda bottles and other such containers can be broken down into pellets, which are then spun into very high quality yarn. This fiber can be used exclusively or blended with natural fibers like cotton to create just about any garment one could imagine.

After an initial struggle with over-complex diagrammatic visual language to show this fantastic process, I ended up settling on a simple arrow form symbolizing the forward progress inherent in this transformation and punctuating the campaign line. I shot photographs of the materials with an antique 35mm camera, then used computers and stuff to scan, colorize and compose the pieces in the different layouts.

Rumpelstiltskin was invoked to make people consider the amazing—perhaps even mythical—power of modern recycling. We may not be able to spin straw into gold, but spinning pop bottles into polar fleece ain’t bad.

Materials symbol set promotional poster; 20 x 30in. / 2002

There is something very primal and essential about building things. Behind our most basic needs is the need to build something to facilitate it. Before we can put food on the table, someone has to put the table together. Before we can sleep under anyone’s roof, someone has to put that roof over our heads. And, in order to afford such things these days, most of us need to go to work, which, more than likely, is in a building.

But modern technology and evolving divisions of labor have rendered the notion of building even the most trifling gaff foreign and anxiety-filling to most. Hardware stores (big-box and corner-shop alike) are stocked floor to ceiling with too many confusing answers to even the most basic questions. For our Marks and Symbols class in the Visual Communication Design (VCD) program at the University of Washington, we were set out to develop a universal language of icons that would help de-mystify this environment and enable people to fulfill their basic need to put stuff together.

The class was divided into two phases: research and development. In the research phase, we worked in groups to look into issues facing the hardware customer, decide upon the problem we felt had the most potential for amelioration by a concise set of symbols (ten or so), and present our process and findings to the rest of the class. In the second phase, we each developed symbol sets on our own to respond to this problem.

Our research group, comprising mates Devon DeLapp, Jesse Graupmann, Narith Hoc, Sarah LaMont, Shaun Tungseth and myself, began by thinking of and assessing the potential (and drawbacks) of six possible options: A set of symbols for connectors, which could help people figure out what fit with what else (but seemed too broad to spawn a useful set of just ten symbols), electricity symbols, which could help people figure out the ins and outs of amps and volts (but we couldn’t figure out how to boil this subject down to ten symbols, either), how-to symbols, which could help people with standard tasks like building a deck or installing a light fixture (but, we quickly realized, would be nearly impossible to describe in mere icons), function/action symbols, which could help explain what a particular tool might do, such as “twist” or “strike” and might have made for a cool set of symbols (but seemed too basic a concept to actually be of any use to any adult not born on Mars—”a hammer is for hitting; fancy that!”), or warning symbols, which could help deter someone from doing stupid things with those tools—like strike themselves with a hammer (but had already been done to death, so to speak).

After much debate, we decided that materials had the most potential for new exploration of symbols that could enjoy real utility, potentially touching a range of applications within the context of hardware, such as way-finding (“Where is the wood?”), contents listing (“Is this made with wood?”), and proper use of tools (“Can I use this on wood?”)…

Once we had decided on our topic to develop, we halfheartedly debated the merits of different ways to present our preliminary investigation and the resultant “problem statement” to the class. We could have done a simple verbal presentation supported by material objects, poster boards, handouts and/or a slide show. In reality, though, having Devon in our group set the foregone expectation among us and the rest of the class that we would do some sort of film (Devon somehow found time to be a Film Studies major in addition to being a Visual Communication Design major, while most of us were killing ourselves just to hold down VCD). And so we made a film.

The film begins with us visiting a hardware store and shopping around as a metaphor for our exploration of ideas. Each of the members discuss one of the original six directions briefly, culminating with materials. We then find examples of the materials for which we had decided to symbolize in the store and load them onto our cart. The film then moves on to vignettes of our photographic research of our chosen materials with as the supporting soundtrack intensifies. Finally, we review previous such symbol programs and speak to intentions of improvement thereof as we check out of the store, idea in hand (or, rather, on big cart thing).

Materials presentation video (stills); written, directed, acted and narrated by Devon DeLapp, Jesse Graupmann, Narith Hoc, Sarah LaMont, Shaun Tungseth and myself; DV / 2003

Recently re-viewing this film was a bit painful. It’s amateurish, we’re all terrible on screen and it was embellished with plenty of juvenile flourishes (highlights include Eric Clapton’s “Cocaine” playing while showing our semiotic exploration of plaster—which is generally made from a white powder—and the film closing with the obligatory toilet flush out-take—from our discussion of ceramic materials). But it sharpened some great memories of having fun with a project, and reinforced in me the idea that irreverence can be a great vehicle to engage an audience, even if you’re trying to convey that a lot of work went into something, which it had. I don’t remember any other groups’ presentations, though I’m sure they were all solidly delivered. I’m guessing people remember ours.

As the credits rolled on our presentation, phase one faded to black and we were off on our own to start creating appropriate symbol sets. With photographic research and general knowledge to draw from, I began my symbol design process by making cursory lists of the semiotic relationships to each material, looking for overlaps between them that would give me a solid base from which to draft a set of ten equivalent marks.

Materials semiotic relationships study / 2003

These lists were in no way exhaustive, but they were effective in helping me figure out routes that had the most or least potential. Only a few of the materials were referenced by commonly known symbolism or metaphor. The greatest potential, therefore, seemed to lay in literal representation stemming from either attributes or examples of the respective materials.

Then, at last… I began sketching to test different visual language. To begin, I worked with the three most vastly different materials (glass, metal and rubber) so I could try a range of execution while hopefully ensuring the approach would translate to the other seven. My initial exercises were highly literal representations of canonical objects that were tied visually by a strong common shape, though I soon abandoned this, as the symbols would have been too specific and not thus not necessarily be effective in representing the range of a particular material.

From this, my next tactic involved slightly more abstract detail views of pattern. I tested different scale to determine optimal overall color, or visual density of the marks.

Materials symbol set study; pencil and marker on paper / 2003
top row: glass
middle row: metal
bottom row: rubber

Though simple pattern looked as if it could be successfully carried over to the entire range of materials and make for a relatively effective symbol set, the depth of impact of these marks was relatively shallow. In search of a more sophisticated result, I drew more abstract marks based on interaction. In this system, the materials relate with a common element (a black square) in a unique way, based on the material’s characteristics. For example, the box shows through the glass, it is welded or riveted to the metal, and the rubber stretches over it.

Materials symbol set study; pencil and marker on paper / 2003
top row: glass
middle row: metal
bottom row: rubber

Intellectually stimulating as it was, the idea of ten different materials interacting with one formal element in ten different and relevant ways was more or less doomed to failure. In an effort to create an interesting and sophisticated set that would also be truly usable, I realized a balance needed to be struck between literal and abstract. My first attempt at this approach combined solid shapes and lines. Initial experimentation with a three-by-three grid also began at this stage and, while the solid shapes were not working well with the linear elements, I felt like the solution was close at hand.

Materials symbol set study; pencil and marker on paper / 2003
top row: glass
middle row: metal
bottom row: rubber

From this point, the challenge was in formulating an elegant and cohesive set that would perform at many levels of display. This process led to the foundation of the final solution: a set of square marks comprising geometric line drawing based on a three-by-three grid.

Materials symbol set study; structural grid / 2003

More for facility of quick rendering than any conceptual theme, I had been working within the confines of a square containing shape without much deviation from the very beginning of my process, so this was the last nail in the coffin of any other shape exploration. Looking back, the symbols do seem somewhat artless and rigid for the box, but I’m not ashamed or regretful. These marks are for the most basic inanimate objects in the context of hardware; it seems quite appropriate. The structural grid made them feel even more solidly built and made for a very legible system with nearly limitless potential for application and extension to additional materials.

Once the formal method had been established, it was applied to other elements of the set. Care had to be taken to maintain the balance between the literal and abstract; utility and interest.

Materials symbol set study; pencil and marker on paper / 2003
top row: stone
middle row: cloth
bottom row: soil

Some materials took to the system quite readily while others required many iterations and changes of focus. Plastic, for example, can be made into almost any form imaginable, so establishing one mark to represent it in its entirety required extensive exploration.

Materials symbol set study; pencil and marker on paper / 2003
top row: wood
middle row: plastic
bottom row: drywall

One great thing about geometrically drawn symbols based on a grid is that they are extremely easy to render digitally. This allowed for even more extensive exploration and variation once the marks were translated to the computer.

Materials symbol set study; digital sketches / 2003
top row: glass
middle row: metal
bottom row: rubber

Since different iterations could be generated quickly and accurately, creating and evaluating variations went quite smoothly for most of the set. The ceramic symbol serendipitously benefited from a perfect relationship with the grid and required only one take.

Materials symbol set study; digital sketches / 2003
top row: drywall
second row: wood
third row: soil
bottom row: ceramic

Unlike the ceramic mark, some of the materials required significant trial and error to perform at a similar level functionally and formally. Plastic called for many different sources of inspiration (and, I must say, I’m least pleased with its final mark), while other materials, such as cloth, necessitated numerous formal interpretations. However, a complete final set was well within view at this point.

Materials symbol set; color, positive and reverse flexibility / 2003
top row: stone
middle row: plastic
bottom row: cloth

Soon enough, the complete set came together, and was put through its paces to see if the symbols could answer their duty. Could they reverse out?

Materials symbol set; positive and reverse / 2003
top row: ceramic | cloth | glass
second row: drywall | metal | rubber
third row: soil | wood | plastic
bottom row: stone

Could they be color coded? And what about that linear execution; what if that were reversed?

Materials symbol set; color, positive and reverse flexibility / 2003
top row: ceramic | cloth | glass
second row: drywall | metal | rubber
third row: soil | wood | plastic
bottom row: stone

But the most important question for any design, especially in a hardware store, is: Does it work? The following is but a brief study of applications, but shows how they could be useful for proper use of hardware or tools.

wood symbol application; proper use of hardware / 2003

drywall, wood, metal and plastic symbol application; proper use of tools / 2003

As mentioned above, the standardization of material symbols could not only help people determine whether something should or should not be used on a particular material, it could also help people quickly identify whether a pipe was plastic or rubber, or where to find glass or wood, and so on. With smart implementation, the potential utility of the system is quite vast. Someone just has to build it.

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!

FatPort logo / 2001, 2008

Though the Internet has been around, in one form or another, for many decades, it had little public awareness until about twenty years ago. By the mid 1990s, the World Wide Web had been plotted by a smattering of amateur “home pages,” which generally consisted of some “lite” personal information about the site’s owner (or “webmaster”) and their hobbies (one of those invariably being “the Internet”). By the late 1990s, these folksy homes were being overwhelmed by the sprawl of “dot-coms” from corporate startups and stalwarts flocking to the new marketplace, and Internet tools like email were beginning to make their way into everyday practice. But, until the early 2000s, the only place in the whole wide world that one would likely experience these sites and services was from the office, or through their droolingly slow modem at home, which made anything but the most formal or mundane tasks a bit difficult for most folks.

Soon enough, though, many public establishments started offering wireless Internet service, enabling the populace to get out into the world and peruse the Web at office-like speeds from their own laptops at places that they already liked going, like coffee shops or bookstores. This service is often referred to casually as “Wi-Fi,” which is a contraction of ‘Wireless’… um…’Fidelity’??, a name created by those wacky kids over at Interbrand for an actual alliance supporting the “IEEE 802.11b Direct Sequence” specifications (I’m not making this stuff up).

Whatever the protocol may be named (or numbered, or whatever), one of the first Wi-Fi service providers primarily for consumer usage in public establishments was FatPort, a Vancouver, B.C. startup established by a few programmers, including my good friend Ingy, who hired me to help develop the venture’s visual identity (but left a relatively short time thereafter).

Before I was brought in, the name of this service had been established by the founders. A “fat port” is sort of programmer-slang for a good, wide-open connection. Ingy actually had the idea for a ‘fat’ radio tower mark, which I thought was good, so I basically just did it. I then set the type in “fat” and “open” weights to reinforce the idea in a distinctive word-mark. The strong, simple palette of red, white and black hints at the Canadian roots of the program and is highly versatile for any number of applications…

This is one of only a few projects that I feel compelled to show a revision of, as I can’t figure out why I did what I did initially. Above, I show how the logo would look if the radio tower mark (unchanged from my initial design) was paired with type set in the quintessential Modern, geometric, sans-serif Futura, which echoes the weight and geometric nature of the radio tower quite nicely, if I do say so, myself. However, the original logo was set with modified weights of Hoefler Text, which is a perfectly fine serif face (particularly suited to lengths of copy, as the name suggests), but has very little correlation with the mark, and whose “fat” modification here borders on the comical. This didn’t come totally out of the blue, as the founders were not of the MBA set; they were an enterprising mix of fringe programmers (they called their mass consumer-facing business FatPort, after all). Their quirky quality is reflected in this setting, but the lockup is somewhat disjointed for the cause.

This is the original FatPort logo. The type on its own is actually pretty strong, overall, and works well with identity extensions like the ‘Network’ logo below. It’s just that it clashes with and overwhelms the tower mark, which is the hero of the lockup. / 2001

FatPort Network lockup (reversed out of black). Here is an example of the flexible modularity of color usage between black, red and white.

Nevertheless, the logo, even with the original type, was a powerful signal to the strength of the offering and the resolve of the entrepreneurs’ belief in its market potential. It was also instantly meaningful and unique. (This came well before T-Mobile’s comparably weak wordmark for it’s “HotSpot” service and countless other emanating wave marks for other such services since).

Applications of the identity in signage, equipment badges and representative identification provided a clear beacon for business and retail consumers alike:

clockwise from top-left: FatPort inside clear window decal for service providers like coffee shops, bookstores, libraries, etc., 6in. x 8in.; small FatPort equipment label, 2in. x .5in.; alternate FatPort inside window decal, 4in. x 5.5in.; Fatport inside representative button, 2in.ø

And, it also happened to look tough as crap on a T-shirt:

FatPort T-Shirt; [cropped] front and full back

And it worked! The business was a huge success from the very start and has grown dramatically since, now serving as the leading wireless Internet service provider in Canada and spreading. I hear the sunset calling (or is it emailing?)…

But, alas, as any bookworm knows (remember books?), happy endings are for kids, and we’re all adults here. FatPort changed their logo a few years ago—and not just the typography; we’re talking full-on throw-out-the-baby redesign. I must say, I admire them for wanting to be different from the growing ranks of look-a-like logos for Wi-Fi service, but the new logo just doesn’t make sense: Why are they working so hard to keep the doors closed on the fat port? And if the original typography was not perfect, at least it had character (so to speak), as opposed to their anemic usage of Helvetica. On top of all that, the new mark looks like it belongs in a kid’s book, which just doesn’t go with the plot of this story.

My good friend Ingy was a great resource for me because he was always coming up with ideas for all kinds of new groups or products or businesses that needed some sort of design work. In the coffee-and-internet-crazed Seattle of the late ’90s, eBarista (.com), a coffee delivery service based on web-ordering sure seemed like a winner. This is the mark I created for the identity:

eBarista monogram mark / 1999

I really wanted to tweak this thing before posting it, as it has some serious formal issues that wouldn’t be hard to fix, but I resisted. This is the mark as I drew it originally: an “eB” monogram abstracted into a two-finger-handled paper coffee cup with a froth swirl and a bit of steam. I also set an accompanying logotype and even a cute animated version where the steam rose, dissolved, and started over again ad infinitum, but I can’t find them.

Unfortunately, eBarista never actually made it out of the starting gate. It may have had something to do with the fact that, if it had run, there’s no way that the supplier (a guy who sold Americanos out of the van he lived in) could have kept up with demand. Or maybe it was something else; I couldn’t say for sure.

Another identity I worked on for Ingy was for one of his self-initiated computer programming projects, InLine, which (as I understand it) allows programmers to write modules of Perl, a relatively simple but limited programming language inline with other languages, like C++ that are more cumbersome to deal with but better for more complex operations, resulting in a best-of-both-worlds comprehensive program that can be both powerful and efficient.

InLine logo / 1999

I believe the InLine project has actually been pretty successful (in fact, I think Ingy has spoken about it all over the world and its international following of hardcore programmers continues to grow). Moreover, I like the logo. I had it in my portfolio for a while and it was always met with positive remarks. Ironically, I’m not sure the logo has ever actually been used to identify the program.

Like most of the projects I’ve done for/with Ingy (there have been many over the years), I took payment for the eBarista and InLine identity work in the form of rides to bike races, a good barbecue dinner out on his patio, some New Wave cassette tapes, or whatever else I might have needed at the time.

I went to a cool little salon pretty regularly at this time, and I had developed some rapport with my hair stylist (the owner’s daughter). At a certain point, she asked me what I did, and I told her that I was a graphic designer. She then inquired (quite seriously): “Are you any good?” This is a surprisingly common reaction, so I had a pretty standard retort on hand: “Depends on who you ask.” I don’t think she ever actually asked anyone else, but she had me do their visual identity and business cards anyway – in exchange for a couple free haircuts:

Raleigh’s Salon logo / 1999

I drew the custom Raleigh’s logotype in reference to high-style Art Deco letterforms, with the lowercase “g” doubling as an abstracted pair of scissors.

Raleigh’s Salon business card (front | back); 2 x 3.5 in. (each) / 1999

In applications, the g-scissors extend to clip a supergraphic R-waved hair. My hairdresser was insistent on the promo message on the back of the business card.

As I noted in an earlier post, I had also begun developing an identity for a prominent new bike company, but it was never used after the client (not the person for whom the company is named) decided to go with something his girlfriend came up with while I was out of town. I believe this was a huge missed opportunity for both myself and the new company. I won’t say what company this was, which means that I can’t show you the full logo or explain any of the strategy behind any of the work, but I will show you this:

?? monogram mark / headtube badge / 1999

Can you guess who this could be for? I spent about a month working and meeting with the client about this project before having it pulled out from under me (there’s a lot more work that I’m not showing). Needless to say, I never got paid anything for any of it.

One of my best patrons in my freewheeling freelance days was Larry Naylor, the proprietor of Perfect Wheels, a local bike shop he had started in place of another shop that had called it quits. Shortly after establishing his shop, I somehow persuaded him to let me design, code, maintain, troubleshoot IT problems, and do whatever else might have needed to be done with the shop’s web site. Considering that I was relatively uneducated (or just totally winging it) in every one of these disciplines, the site worked pretty well for quite a while.

PerfectWheels.net home page / 1999

PerfectWheels.net home page (rollover state of “New Bikes”) / 1999

PerfectWheels.net interior page: Wheels / 1999

The primary hook of the site was a background of a spoked bicycle wheel whose hub also served as a framing device for icons I created to illustrate the various topics/pages covered within the site. I also shot much of the photography and wrote a lot of the content. While I think this site was unique and useful as it was, it did end up looking dated after some time (as most web sites from the late ’90s did), so actually don’t mind that he has since updated it (even if the new version isn’t exactly how I would have designed it). I’m also glad that he has replaced his very 90′s Saturn-like logo (I designed neither the old nor the new logo).

I ended up being the sort-of de-facto design consultant for the shop for a couple years after the initial web site project. Over the course of our collaboration, Larry and I discussed and worked on a number of other projects, both large and small, as he continued to refine the Perfect experience.

For a while, Larry was selling his own version of high-end, pre-built road wheels, similar to those popularized by Mavic and other major players in the wheels game (except that all of Larry’s wheels were guaranteed to be be built by hand – by Larry, himself). He came up with two (well-named) models: the Grüner, a lightweight set for fast recreational use or possibly racing, and the Grizzly, a beefier set for pounding out the everyday miles. I designed the logos for both, as well as hub and rim decals and in-shop displays.

Grüner wheel logo (hub decal); 3 x 1.5 in. / 2001

Grüner was the name of one of Larry’s friends, a slim, cute hipster girl of some sort (from what I remember from brief accounts and a picture; I never actually met her). The lightweight type and tweak of the “u” with the umlaut was a nod to this chic, cheeky sensibility. By the way, I have used a set of these wheels for five or six straight years of hard winter riding – that’s when the long, cold, wet, rocky miles come in – and they’re still just about as good as they were new; I can’t imagine what one could do with the Grizzlys:

Grizzly wheel logo (hub decal); 3 x 1.25in. / 2001

Grizzly was the name of Larry’s (rather aggressive) black cat. The extra-bold weight and cropping reference these characteristics. The two wheel identities, while expressing different qualities, were meant to be of a family. In addition to being based on the same font (different weights of Futura), both logos played off the theme of faces (since they were named after representative beings). The Grizzly logo, then, is dotted by the cat’s eyes.

I also designed decals for the rims of each wheel:

Here is how the rim decals looked applied (side view of Grizzly and Grüner rims) / 2001

Here is a shot of a Grizzly wheel on display at Perfect Wheels (photo by Larry Naylor) / 2001

I also made some wall display signs that looked something like this (the signs were made and displayed in the shop, but I never got a real picture, so this mock-up will have to suffice):

Grüner and Grizzly in-store signage; digital output on foam-core; 8 x 8 x .25 in. (each) / 2001

Larry and I worked on a few other projects together as the years added up, including various photo shoots, bike repair and upgrade case studies, a shop brochure (conceived but never quite born), a couple newspaper ads, some other little stickers and things, and innumerable philosophical discussions on topics that only involved the shop about half of the time. The best part of the whole process was that Larry was ever-committed to making Perfect Wheels the best shop he could imagine, and, indeed, the Perfect bike shop experience gets better and better every time I go back. I haven’t worked with Larry for a number of years now, but I feel proud to have been involved as that process began.

Like most of the projects I have discussed in this post, the Perfect Wheels “account” allowed me to collaborate directly with the visionary of his own business. Of course, working with the top gun doesn’t necessarily guarantee success in any project, just as working with less than the boss does not ensure failure. But passion is contagious, and with no committees, no project managers, no “brand ambassadors,” or any other layers of filtration between ideas and realization, the most powerful work often has the greatest potential to fly. And for two determined individuals anxious to get their new careers off the ground, what could be more perfect than that?

]]> http://www.danielpjohnston.com/graphic-language/2007/12/18/the-perfect-job/feed/ 4 http://www.danielpjohnston.com/graphic-language/2007/10/10/go-fight-swim/ http://www.danielpjohnston.com/graphic-language/2007/10/10/go-fight-swim/#comments Wed, 10 Oct 2007 19:13:54 +0000 Daniel P. Johnston http://www.danielpjohnston.com/?p=401

Nathan Hale (NH) High School Swim Team logo; spray paint stenciled on paper / 1994

When I got to high school, it wasn’t a very good scene: I was short, fat, slow, uncoordinated and keenly aware of all of these things. I was also overwhelmed by boredom with my classes and mates and hid myself as well as possible so as not to be dragged into the morass of class discussion. So, how does a chunky, nonathletic, awkward guy with an invisible personality play his cards in high school? That’s right, he straps on a Speedo and joins the swim team. I still remember those first steps out of the locker room onto the pool deck as some of the more terrifying of my life.

Somehow, though, over the next few years, I would get in deep with the team. Aside from the year my leg was broken, I swam in every single practice and every meet. I got into incredibly good physical condition (I grew about eight inches from freshman to senior year, but my body weight remained almost the exactly same throughout). I was even voted captain two years in a row, which probably said more about my personality than my swimming prowess, which was okay, but no match for the purebreds.

All this engendered in me a strange new feeling: school pride. Nathan Hale was home to the Raiders and, somewhere along the way, I actually considered myself as such. But if I was a Raider, I wasn’t one of those red-white-and-blue caricatures in skinny pants, piano coats and a funny hats, reduced to hokey cartoons in the halls. That scene was so far removed from the times that a teenager could barely imagine how or why it happened, not to mention understand what it meant. In a way, it seemed that it must have just been a tale meant to fulfill the requisite mascot needs of high schools around the country 200-some years later…

To me, the L.A. (now Oakland) Raiders had the right idea. They embodied the spirit of the Raiders without hearkening. Similarly, the identity I designed for our team showed a stone-cold killer in battle gear (an NH cap). More menacingly than even L.A. could do, our Raider stared you down through anonymous goggles. The black and white stencil allowed for DIY tagging in any territory.

If I was a Raider, I fought for a revolution, alright, but my cause was only in proving toughness. My guns were attached to my shoulders and my battlefield was the pool, and the blood, sweat and tears were all chlorinated.