As we queued up in the vaccine line, we reflected back on the sum toll of 2020 and wondered: What is our new normal going forward?

It’s a highly personal question—and one that elicits a broad range of responses when you ask a creative… or, in this case, 27 of them. As the vaccine rollout ramped up across the country, we reached out to a medley of our contacts across the industry with a simple (yet utterly complicated) prompt, offering them as much or as little room as they’d like to answer it:

Once COVID-19 is finally under control, how would you describe post-pandemic normalcy? In other words, as a creative, how will your “old normal” differ from your “new normal”?

Viewed individually, you’ll likely find seeds of yourself in many of these responses. Viewed collectively, this collection represents an intricate mosaic of voices on what it was like to be a designer in the midst of this catastrophic global pandemic—and beyond. The challenges. The opportunities. The many brilliant projects that took root in the most unlikely of times. What changed for many. What didn’t change at all for others. Reassessments of how we do things— reassessments of why we do things.

We offer these responses as we look ahead to the future with something we did not have in great abundance in 2020: hope.

Here’s to, as Pum Lefebure puts it, not the “new normal”—but rather “the next normal.”

Kelli Anderson

Artist and Author

The “being alone” of this year hasn’t been merely in the how do I entertain myself? sense—or the physical isolation sense. It has been a type of alone that can’t be “worked on”: the threat of losing all of your deepest connections. We’ve moved through the year not knowing which of the people, places and communities that anchor us would disappear. Like some sort of unthinkable bartering process, I caught myself making mental lists of what I could and couldn’t do without.

For me, loss has played out in macro (the loss of friends and family), but also on the level of walking down my block. I was surprised to discover that I’ve apparently, all along, felt deeply connected to some pretty random and dumb things! For example, the lovely way that my now-vacant bodega’s sign used to frame the horizon. (I’m doing my best not to judge myself or others’ mourning of these dumb, little losses. They come from a mysterious place.)

Realistically: Life has always been this way. Eventual loss is the toll we pay for the privilege of moving through a world so layered with effervescent magic. But we must be wired to forget this—otherwise, we wouldn’t continue to adopt kittens and puppies that will grow old, we wouldn’t continue to fall in love. What makes the pandemic uniquely traumatic is that it denied us this forgetting. We had to process so much potential loss—so urgently and so all at once.

I think my “new normal” as a designer is to double down on my commitment to service to that magic where I see it (and without judgement of the sheer randomness of its objects). Rather than just being motivated to discover new things, I want to lean into my passion for maintaining the things that tether me. In particular, I’m really proud of the design work I’ve done for Russ & Daughters during this time. They amaze me. They rapidly figured out how to safely feed masses of people throughout the pandemic—the same food that their great-grandparents ate. A few years ago, I drew a sign for them with Bezier curves on my computer. Let There Be Neon then bent glass tubes and filled them with electrified neon gas. It has glowed over Allen Street every night of the pandemic. It constitutes the view from someone’s window, and it hasn’t gone away.

Dumb, amazing design project thing! Jake Gyllenhaal, who is a friend of Russ & Daughters, did a viral striptease wearing one of their shirts. We used the opportunity to print, dye and sell a bunch of T-shirts, raising hundreds of thousands of dollars for the Independent Restaurant Coalition. They lobbied Congress to offer monetary relief to small, independently owned restaurants. It worked! On March 6, the Biden administration set aside a $28.6 billion relief grant program for small mom-and-pop restaurants, cafes, bars, and food carts.

Neville Brody

Founder, Brody Associates

Wow. What a mindfuck. Who knew?

As temporary precaution becomes permanent change to the way we work, think, create and connect, our clients—previously discombobulated without physical attendance—now happily embrace electronic workshops and meetings.

Our team checks in constantly; everyone is checking in on everyone in a cumulative state of permanent checking out (what I call ZOMO—Zoomed-out mental overload). The squeeze is that ideas now often have to be created in the cracks between Zooms, whereas once meetings happened in the spaces between ideas.

So, what’s new? Well, it seems to be all about distance and trust. This new paradoxical gridlock of permanent presence is constructed from distant working, physical distancing, distant meeting, distant learning, distance from thought, of experimentation. The unseen glue that previously held us together has been revealed by the imposition of its opposite.

Trust, already in short supply, has been placed center-stage. This distance-trust relationship of accountability is one we now constantly and exhaustingly assess and navigate. In a modern variation of the space-time continuum for workplace accountability, trust reduces as distance increases.

My main anxieties aren’t for us as a studio of creatives—we can navigate and reinvent this. My concern is for the learning environment, especially for students in creative subjects who lack the opportunity for physical making and the invaluable impact of working with their peers in a studio. These challenges have sometimes become opportunities—a number of our students, based in Beijing and reduced to isolated distance learning, decided to rent a studio together to share ideas and energy. How exciting to see what that might catalyze when they finally arrive in London!

Post-ZOMO, will we go back to the way we weren’t? This lack of physical connection invariably impacts our ability to think and interact creatively. We’ve adapted really well, but the absence in the fabric of an online studio is the opportunity for serendipitous conversation, sharing a quick sketch, sticking stuff up on a wall and having live physical workshops. This has to be reimagined.

This crisis has accelerated existing underlying directions in our working and living behavior—the opportunity now is to reassess and heighten the ways in which we connect and create. We will inevitably evolve to a fluid economy of mixed but precise model
s. For sure it won’t look again the way it did.

(Credit: Neville Brody, Tommaso Calderini, and Chris Nott)

Tom Crabtree

Founder/Creative Director, Manual

I see post-pandemic normalcy as a chance to achieve a much better sense of balance:

Work ———————————> Life

Colleagues ———————————> Kids

Business Partner———————————> Wife

Solve Problems ———————————> Take Risks

Find Inspiration ———————————> Find Focus

An Answer for Everything ———————————> A Question for Everything

What? ———————————> Why?

Expertise ———————————> Learning

Office ———————————> Creative Hub

Formal ———————————> Informal

Plane Tickets ———————————> Video Calls

Looking Outward ———————————> Looking Inward

Jolene Delisle

Founder, Head of Brand Creative, The Working Assembly

The longer COVID-19 continues, I’m having a hard time remembering what pre-pandemic normal was. In some ways, I think that’s good, because the way I was sprinting a year ago, if I’m honest, probably wasn’t sustainable. As a designer and agency owner, I was pretty reactive, putting out fires or chasing the next thing, saying “yes” probably way too much, and just hustling without a roadmap. The pandemic has clarified what’s truly important and even greater than the virus.

The events of the last year in our country, with George Floyd, the Black Lives Matter movement, and the hate crimes towards AAPI communities, have made me take stock of deeper questions around purpose. I’ve had to take accountability around what I want to be creating, who I want to be creating work for, and how I want to operate as a designer. My new normal will be me being much more informed, being unafraid to say “no,” laser-focused on putting the best work out possible, and eliminating whatever doesn’t serve us getting there. It will also mean aligning with companies that are outwardly contributing to the betterment of all people and putting our creative talents towards continuing to elevate marginalized groups. In short, the new normal will be operating with greater clarity and purpose.

Stephen Doyle

Creative Director, Doyle Partners

I’m hoping the new normal will allow for more—and longer duration—travel, now that by working and teaching remotely, we are confident that it can be done from just about anywhere. This will allow designers to have much more submersive experiences when traveling, rather than shoe-horning trips into two- or three-week windows. Conversely, and importantly, I am really looking forward to bouts of working face-to-face with my team and my students. I miss the offhand observations, the casual conversations which are about the work—sure—but also about each other, our families, our adventures and struggles … the lovely camaraderie and dialog of a day working with colleagues. I dream of the days when we struggle with the balance of proximity and try to get that right, because by now we should be pretty close to figuring out the work-life balance. In my ideal world in the future, these categories would all seamlessly bleed into each other.

One of the projects that I’m proud of from the past year is this album cover for Pat Metheny’s latest recording, The Road to the Sun. The quiet of the pandemic allowed me the time to really focus on the fun part of my work—synesthesia. Listening to a recording and translating sound to imagery is the alchemy of design. After listening to it, I had a conversation with Pat, and I reported that I was seeing birds. Sailing. Soaring. To my surprise, he replied, “Me too!” And from there I was free to do a deep dive into his beloved Midwestern roots, and seek out flat landscapes full of poetry and potential. For Pat, coming from Missouri, landscape is all about the horizon. I had great fun merging these soaring Audubon birds (a magpie, an arctic tern, and a sooty tern) with evocative landscapes. Some of the best parts of this project were the dialogs we had. Just one in person, masked, and the others via Zoom. He is a brilliant musician, but an even better friend. I loved seeing him in person, but missed his big, magnanimous—and mischievous—smile.

Maybe it was the lockdown itself that led to this imagery—it sure was nice to be among those landscapes, and it felt wonderful to fly!

Nekisha Durrett

Artist

When the lockdown began and the world slowed down, we witnessed in real time a virus spreading from one person to over 131 million people. We suddenly became aware of how interconnected we are. Many succumbed to the reality that there exists hierarchies of human value along racial, gender and socioeconomic lines—and perhaps their role in upholding these value systems. Eyes opened. In this “new normal” within my practice, I want to keep top of mind the questions, How do we care for one another? How can my work be an act of care?

I draw a lot of inspiration from the natural world—both in my practice as an artist, and as a human being. I learned that recently there was the
discovery of a so-called “Wood Wide Web,” a social network between trees. This underground network of invisible fungi and bacteria have the capacity to send healing nutrients to other trees across species that are ailing. On the surface, a hiker in the forest would assume that each tree is a singular entity. All the while, there exists a network under the forest floor that connects them all. Those trees we thought were standing

alone were actually holding each other up.

As the word Coronavirus fades from our collective memory, I want to remember how small the world actually is. While considering my role in effecting change as an artist, I want to hold close the understanding that I alone cannot change the entire world. I can, however, work to lift up the voices of the unheard and perhaps change the hearts and minds of a few people along the way. I want to maintain the belief that I am not alone and that collective energy can bring about awareness, action and meaningful, measurable change.

During the spring and summer of 2020, I collected fallen leaves from a towering magnolia tree in my neighborhood in Washington, DC. Experiencing the impacts of two pandemics at once—COVID-19 and continued police brutality against Black bodies—I used the cemetery as a space for processing my anxiety and grief. I began to perforate the names of dozens of Black women murdered by law enforcement into the fragile yet resilient surfaces of the fallen leaves.

(Magnolia is an ongoing project currently on view at The Cody Gallery at Marymount University in Arlington, VA, and is featured in Of Care in Destruction: The 2021 Atlanta Biennial at Atlanta Contemporary.)

Eleanor Bumpurs

Killed by police on Oct. 29, 1984 | Age, 66

India Kager

Killed by police on Sept. 5, 2015 | Age 27

Individual leaves:

Alexia Christian

Killed by police on April 30, 2015 | Age 26

Kathryn Johnston

Killed by police on Nov. 21, 2006 | Age 92

Atatiana Jefferson

Killed by police on Oct. 12, 2019 | Age 28

Photo Credit: Kasey Medlin

(Editor’s Note: For more from Durrett, click here.)

Rachel Gogel

Founder, The Design Culturalist

2020 served as the backdrop to a historic moment in remote work history: an exodus of workers from the traditional office to a home office, on a scale that has never been seen before. I took this transition one step further, and decided to leave my role as creative director at a San Francisco–based design firm to become my own boss. Like many creative leaders during this time, I have been on a journey to understand how to manage teams remotely, but now with the added challenge of also being an independent contractor. While most people associate “the future of work” with the rise of the entrepreneurial generation or the development of new “work-from-anywhere” models centered on employee wellness and mental health, I find myself exploring the inevitable next wave of people management.

I have worked at the intersection of strategy, product, advertising, and editorial for more than a decade—from launching story-driven experiences at Godfrey Dadich Partners to building multidisciplinary teams at The New York Times’ award-winning T Brand Studio, GQ magazine and Facebook. My job as a creative leader has always been about finding the balance between inspiring teams to drive creative productivity, and nurturing each talented soul’s professional advancement. For me, there is no distinction between leading people and directing the work. My personal philosophy and approach to being a people manager relates to direct communication, leading compassionately, and advocating for optimism.

Initially, all of this was difficult. The abrupt transition to remote work was jarring for me, and invoked a deep sense of loss since creativity and collaboration have long been colored by iconic images evoking a high degree of physicality—the team huddled together in a messy studio space, brainstorming with expressive gestures and visual props, ideas flying. It was hard to keep my team engaged, curious and energetic on Zoom (only later did it help me to understand, via Priya Parker, that facilitating virtual gatherings is an artform). And I knew there was probably much to learn from the small percentage of companies (like the design software company InVision) that have gradually built remote cultures over the span of years and swear by it … but I quickly realized that what drives engagement at work is the same factor now as it was pre-pandemic: an employee’s relationship with their manager.

Being forced into remote work has exacerbated an underlying issue at many companies, which is: Most don’t provide the necessary tools to foster great (or even good) people leaders. With hybrid work models becoming the new norm—in which fully in-person and remote work will be two ends of a fluid spectrum of options—the role of the “boss” is effectively evolving. And organizations will have to recognize the effect on corporate culture. It’s widely known that people don’t leave bad jobs, they leave bad bosses; informality in hiring, feedback and evaluations can lead to a lack of consistency and fairness, and deprive employees of opportunities to grow. This is even more common in the creative sector, where creative output overshadows career development and burnout is common. People who did not lose their jobs during the pandemic are slowly gaining the confidence to leave stable positions with benefits if they are unhappy at work. New research is showing that two-thirds of millennials want to start their own business and up to 30% of people want to continue working from home, essentially turning a large percentage of the global workforce into self-employed freelancers. In this context, we all need to rethink how fulfillment and purpose can be cultivated and sustained in an increasingly contract-based economy. The idea is that work isn’t something people come to the office for, it’s something they do.

I believe that the people managers
of tomorrow can act boldly to reimagine an employee experience that is more purposeful, individualized and mobile. Leaders will need to have both emotional and relational intelligence, be more explicit and vulnerable, and create a sense of togetherness even if not physically together. The good news is that neither creativity nor collaboration are weakened by distance—they’re merely altered. So instead of thinking about post-pandemic “normalcy,” I’m preparing for the year 2040, when most companies will be decentralized, the majority of the workforce will be self-employed and the project-based economy will be prevalent. The notion of the “office” space will be more fluid and synonymous with community, acting as a place that enables rather than hosts. And people won’t belong to a single team, but rather many teams, each centered around a specific goal or project.

Personally, I’m now focusing on building a dream life instead of a dream job, where I can consult, teach, speak and make room for small pro-bono design projects that align with my values and affect change in the world. I am lucky to be working with clients—such as Airbnb, Giant Spoon, and The Plant—on projects ranging from developing global brand systems to scaling creative operations. For most of these projects, I find myself leading fully distributed teams and hiring from my existing network—a mix of generalists and specialists—in order to get the work done, while embracing a more flexible workweek. Mid-pandemic (in December of 2020), I also became a member of the Institute of Possibility, a collective of 21 individuals working to redesign our world for deeper, generative connection. Over the years, I’ve come to care deeply about using my voice and privilege to help create inclusive and connected communities, especially for womxn. My hope is that this platform will amplify my commitment to supporting these causes and addressing gender-based disparities in the design industry.

Now more than ever, there’s urgency (and rightly so) to take the necessary actions to advance racial equity on our teams, lead conversations on sensitive topics and foster engagement instead of retreat. With more distributed-first models, we can ensure that our teams—no matter their employment contract status or location—more accurately reflect the diverse populations that we aim to serve. We can effectively design (and facilitate) a more equitable future if we want to. That’s the future of creative leadership that I want to be part of and help shape. That’s “the future of independent work” we should be getting ready for.

Ritesh Gupta

Senior Director, New Product Ventures at Gannett

Post-pandemic normalcy probably includes:

1. Still wearing a mask, even after mask requirements are no longer required

2. Working for brands that are remote-friendly and pandemic-tolerant

3. Continued focus on mental health to address trauma

4. Finding inspiration and enjoyment in activities, restaurants, etc., that we took for granted pre-COVID

5. Continued focus on being a cashless society and touching public things less without sanitizer

6. Working to help rebuild institutions that matter and dismantle ones that don’t

7. Short-selling of purely physical companies, and designers continuing to be angry at Wall Street

8. Working on projects that fill empty storefronts

Moses Harris

Site Architect/Development Lead, IBM; Co-founder and Outreach Lead, Tech Can [Do] Better

Pre-COVID life was pretty standard. Nothing stands out except for the ability to go into the office and talk to other people. There were also free snacks on the fifth floor of our office. That fact made us competitive with anyone in the tech industry, in my mind.

At the beginning of the quarantine there was a constant feeling of uncertainty, and some days, that morphed into a constant low-level hum of fear. For everyone but the most adamant homebodies, constant quarantining meant that new ways of working, interacting with friends, family, and contacting people overall had to be discovered in parallel. Pretty much everything changed in a matter of weeks. There was an end in sight, then, very quickly, there was no end in sight.

On top of that, the news cycle in 2020 wasn’t just about COVID. Behind the constant updates of talking heads and death statistics, the national conversation about racial injustice went nuclear. The state was saying “don’t go outside.” The news was showing people getting hit in the face with rubber bullets. And where was I? I was locked in my house basically competing against myself to see who could watch more Netflix. In the end, there was only so much streaming television I could take, there were only so many video games I could play, and I could only watch so many movies before I started questioning whether this was something I wanted to do—or, after losing all external entertainment, it was the only thing I thought I had left.

It wasn’t that there weren’t more shows; there are always more shows. I just ran out of passive distractions that made me feel like I was using my time for something worthwhile. Sitting on the couch watching things that other people made wasn’t the pastime it used to be. I wanted to make something. I decided, to do that, I would have to take an active interest in figuring out what, if anything, I could do with the feeling of boredom, malaise, and frustration that made up the bulk of 2020.

Around June, before the office closed down, myself and a few co-workers had come together to take a look at the landscape of racial injustice across the tech industry. The national conversation around race had touched companies like Google and Facebook. They had been called out in open forums. A magnifying glass was on their hiring and retention, and they were ready to listen. Whether they were ready to change was still to be determined. But with everyone talking about race in America, we were in the spotlight, and it seemed like the time was right to take on a piece of responsibility for making things better for others out there like us who may not have been as lucky. There was an opportunity there. So we took it and started a nonprofit.

The nonprofit is Tech Can Do Better. In less than a year we have a staff of 50+ and an active community of about 250 people. We use research, best practices, advocacy and legislation to push tech companies to increase equitable hiring, treatment, and overall push for better outcomes for underserved populations, focusing on the Black community and spreading through the BIPOC spectrum.

In the short time we’ve been in existence, I can see work we’ve done in people’s hands across the country, and it feels better than seeing the long-awaited finale of any show. I spend a lot of time talking to people outside of my immediate bubble now. I’ve become a better listener and a better speaker. I’ve also lost that sense of malaise. A Zoom call full of teenagers called me “cool.” I think I’ve peaked.

When the country is vaccinated and everything is open again, I want to continue doing this work. I want to invest time in helping my community and put energy into advocating for others. I hope to be more intentional with my time and money, spending it where it can do the most good. I also want to take the optimism that I’ve grown through advocacy and point it towards other things. Somehow believing you have the power to push giant tech companies to change—but also having no hope that COVID will ever go away—seems backwards.

(Editor’s Note: Read more about Tech Can Do Better here.)

Sagi Haviv

Partner/Designer, Chermayeff & Geismar & Haviv

Working collaboratively and in person has been at the core of our practice for decades.

If we had to plan for the physical separation in advance, it might have been completely overwhelming, but we had no time to worry. Projects kept coming in, and we simply had to make it work. We established all-staff Zoom meetings (which we had never done in person) that turned out to be more horizontal and participative. In these staff meetings, everyone would share their screens, present their work and defend it, which has been a powerful incentive. I personally found that when sketching at home, I have been completely engulfed and undistracted.

Just as essential has been the relationship with our clients. Being together in person in the same room for logo design presentations, talking through strategy and explaining the reasons for our design decisions, is irreplaceable, we thought. Under these new circumstances, every detail of our remote presentations meant even more: each application, the introduction of each concept, the storytelling, structure, rhythm, transitions—we even accounted for the color shifts over Zoom.

Everything we’ve had to learn and invent throughout the pandemic will stay with us and transform our practice. We are more nimble, we have more options and more ways to be connected, and we are less tied to geography or to physicality. However, we also look forward to spending time around the coffee machine and to taking the elevator together when leaving the office at the end of the day.

Among all the clients we worked with in 2020, the companies that moved the most aggressively during the pandemic were those moving content online—both legacy brands and newcomers.

The Discovery corporate group—with its origins in the early ’80s and now encompassing gigantic brands like Oprah Winfrey’s OWN, the Food Network, Animal Planet, HGTV, Travel Channel and Eurosport—wanted to move quickly into the streaming space with a new direct-to-consumer service, discovery+. They needed a mark to help discovery+ become known as the overarching brand for its many familiar programs, as well as to propel the launch of the new service.

On a completely different end of the entertainment field is the competitive esports team Panda Global. Esports is now a massive commercial interest with in-person tournaments gathering audiences of thousands, social media feeds, live-game streams and other online communications.

The pandemic accelerated the branding process for both discovery+ and Panda Global—but they had opposite needs. The established client wanted to look like a digital brand. And the young digital client wanted to look like an established brand.

Anita Kunz

Illustrator

As an illustrator, I typically get assignments from art directors, and usually the themes of the assignments are in line with what interests me. But a year ago everything changed. Who could have known that our lives could change so quickly and drastically? I realized at the time that there would be a long period of uncertainty, and I wanted to start a project that was meaningful to me and would occupy my time. I had an idea on the backburner, and that was to research and paint portraits of extraordinary women, which I began to do. It was so helpful to immerse myself in the lives of these amazing women and to learn about their difficult circumstances, and how they dealt with their situations with tenacity and courage. Staying home and masking while out seemed like a small sacrifice by comparison.

As luck would have it, the amazing Chip Kidd expressed interest in the project, and the result will be a book of the work to be released this fall. Pre-pandemic, I typically waited to get assignments, but when this pandemic is finally over I am determined to be much more proactive doing personal projects that are meaningful and helpful. Life is too short to waste time.

Pum Lefebure

Co-founder and Chief Creative Officer, Design Army

Who said we have to go back to normal? We can’t hang on to the past like an old VCR living in a new Metaverse world. The future is all about staying ahead of the next normal. We will need to think and create like an elastic brand and be able to adapt to unpredictable consumers, new technology, new media, and new clients. The next normal is working smarter and learning to love the uncertainty. My new motto for 2021 is “CHANGE or DIE.”

Debbie Millman

Editorial Director, PRINT; Host, Design Matters

Gemma O’Brien

Artist

The past year has meant no travel for installations and talks, but I’ve enjoyed slowing down, finding new rituals, and spending more time in the studio. The silver lining to such a global tragedy is that on a personal level I’ve been able to reflect on what’s important, and start to align my values with what I create. Although my workload was much lighter this past year, I created a few pieces that were meaningful for me: “Come Hell or High Water”—created with charcoal from Australia’s bushfires as a call to the determination required to face the impacts of climate change head on; “SHE/HER”—created for the Here I Am exhibition in Canberra; “Only Together,” a piece for the UN’s social media campaign to call for vaccine equity; and “Thank You Essential Workers,” the artwork displayed in Times Square at the beginning of the pandemic. Right now I am taking on fewer commercial projects while focusing on an upcoming exhibition at China Heights gallery in November.

Mitzi Okou

Interaction and Visual Designer; Founder, Where Are the Black Designers?

It’s been quite difficult to visualize what post-pandemic normalcy might look like because the next question that follows is, “in what sense?” In terms of justice and racial inequality? In terms of the workplace? In terms of all of that within design? Is my new normal being the Black person that is going to keep advising allies and companies about how to overcome their diversity issue?

Parts of my new normal are uncertain because I feel like my new normal is slightly based on non-Black allies and how willing they are to participate in the fight toward racial equality as the pandemic has unveiled. To counteract that, I am also trying to visualize what things I need to unlearn and learn as a designer and a human being to have a decently healthy new normal—whether it is saying “no,” or telling my co-workers and superior that I am not feeling 100% today due to the daily stream of Black trauma. For me, the question is not about the new normal. The question is, “How do I keep my peace to survive in this ugly new normal and therefore help my people survive?”

Brandi Parker

Head of Sustainability, Pearlfisher

If we are honest with ourselves, we’ll admit we have been forced to face uncertainty—uncertainty that has infiltrated every possible nook and cranny in our lives beyond work. Some of us have adjusted, while others have tried or at least had a tougher time adapting to what we can. From the blurred lines of work and life to isolation and no end of the pandemic in sight—uncertainty has been the only constant.

The truth is, certainty isn’t guaranteed. Not even in pre-COVID “normal” life. It was all an illusion to justify how we were living our lives and pushing ourselves to work, create, produce and play … harder.

It’s as if COVID pulled back the covers to reveal that what we’ve been afraid of has actually been there the whole time. Like the now-spoiled reveal in that movie The Sixth Sense—we’ve all been dead the whole time. Just kidding! Well, kidding-ish. But, we were in and amongst uncertainty and could have seen it the entire time. We just didn’t want to, or more likely, weren’t in a place where we really could.

Uncertainty can be stressful. It’s been supremely stressful for those of us that still hold on to the false illusion of security, that anything out there is guaranteed. For those that did face it, we’re now in a place where we can decide if we’ll let uncertainty defeat us or empower us.

I’m letting it empower me. I’m letting the fact that I don’t know who or where I’ll be in two months drive me—celebrating the “now” instead of focusing so much on trying to control the future. How many people do you know that made a career shift, life change or a combination of the two during this time? These are folks that let uncertainty be their fuel—fuel they might not have discovered had COVID not forced the curtain to get pulled back. And so I choose to ride with this newfound energy, not against it.

A few months ago, I created a new role for myself as head of sustainability at Pearlfisher—the first of its kind agency-side, and a first for me. Who knows how it will ultimately be received by our clients and peers. That doesn’t matter right now. But what does matter now, today and into the future, is that I had the courage to make it happen, where pre-COVID, I didn’t. And it’s because I’m OK with uncertainty.

How will you let uncertainty affect you?

Badal Patel

Graphic Designer, Art Director

I’m not sure how much my “old normal” and “new normal” will differ much post-pandemic! I started working independently in 2018, so I had a good two years working from home before COVID hit. When most people started working from home, I was flashing back to when I had to figure out my home office situation, get used to working alone, and the blurring of boundaries.

I love working from a home studio. Like most creative people, ideas and sparks of motivation come at different times of day and night, so it’s nice to adjust my schedule based on how I’m feeling that day or what I need to prioritize. I want to keep cooking myself lunch, do random house chores or even do a workout in between emails instead of coming home to a list of more things to do. All that said, not being able to interact with people and working alone is really tough. I miss human connection, and work-wise, I even miss having crits with my peers. That’s why when I started freelancing, I made sure to keep in touch with friends as much as possible. I also have some crit buds, and we send things back and forth because designing in isolation is never fun.

It’s been interesting seeing agencies and studios shift to working remotely and hearing them talk about new business calls and kicking off projects remotely. These are all things I had been doing, but I guess it felt super scrappy since I don’t ha
ve an official studio space that I rent (trying to keep to low overhead costs). But now that we’ve all been forced to work from home, I hope this new way of life, working remotely, will become a common thing.

David Plunkert

Illustrator/Graphic Designer/Co-founder of Spur Design

Other than having to close our studio temporarily and work from home last year, the biggest professional challenge has been the restriction of travel, which has resulted in very little in-person contact with existing and potential new clients. A hard outcome of that restriction was the cancellation of pending projects that involved exhibits and live performances. To be clear, I think these restrictions are certainly reasonable and rational in the face of a deadly (ongoing) pandemic, but I’m hopeful that the “new normal” will eventually involve more travel (safely!) and casual pop-ins … even if that likely involves wearing a mask. Zoom meetings are here to stay, and they’ve been immensely helpful, but they don’t replace personal interaction or walking around a museum space.

2021 has so far had more up and down in terms of workflow than 2020. Our new normal will involve updating our studio, and doing a mix of online and live book launch events for [Spur co-founder] Joyce Hesselberth’s upcoming children’s book Beatrice Was a Tree. We’ll also begin reaching out to existing clients that put work on hold, and continue to expand our present client base. More importantly, we’ll try to keep the fire stoked for future plans!

Edel Rodriguez

Artist/Illustrator/Author

I’ve been fortunate enough to stay pretty busy during the pandemic. I work at home and have been working on a number of long-term projects throughout, so the work transition was an easy one.

What has been topsy-turvy has been the rest of the world around me. A number of my family members in Florida and Cuba were stricken with COVID, so that has been a worry and continues to be. Seeing my kids missing out on parts of their childhood has been difficult. Witnessing and commenting on the political insanity of the past year also took a toll.

My focus after the pandemic is not going to be about work. The past year has taught me that everything we take for granted can be taken away from us overnight—everything from freedom of movement to family and democratic institutions. We did come close to having a coup in this country, something I never imagined.

My main focus after the pandemic will be to spend time with family and friends who I haven’t seen in a year or more, spend time in the sun in Cuba and Florida, and to travel with my wife and daughters.

If there is something I’d like to do more of artistically, it is to paint, sculpt and make things that are a bit more detached from the daily grind of the news cycle we’ve been hostage to for the past five years. I don’t plan specific directions in my work, I react to what is going on in my life. Making this shift, spending time with the people I love, in places I love, is sure to bring new ideas and directions in my work.

Paul Sahre

Graphic Designer

I was already working alone in a home office before the pandemic hit. I shut down my old office on 6th Avenue a few years ago so I could be around more for my twin boys. So the move was valuational, and in my pre-pandemic thinking, temporary. The plan was to see the boys into middle school and then start commuting again to an office space in the city.

The main difference has been that it is much harder to work here uninterrupted. I used to have absolute quiet from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. Over the past year, with the boys doing homeschooling and my wife, Emily [Oberman], setting up Pentagram/NJ in the next room, it’s virtually impossible to get anything done. Or at least as much done as I used to. And I have almost as many projects in the studio as I always do.

New normal? Seriously, I have no idea. I assume the boys will be going back to school soon, and I also assume that Emily will be working from her office in Manhattan—but you know what they say about assuming.

Lyric book/new release for They Might Be Giants, titled BOOK. The entire book was typed on a ’70s IBM Selectric typewriter.

Bonnie Siegler

Founder, Eight and a Half

Now that we know just how short life can be, we will be less inclined to take jobs that won’t make us happy.

Jason Tselentis

Educator/Writer/Designer

I’ve been asking myself Where do we go from here? since March 2020, when I, like most of the world, moved indoors full time. A year later, thanks to social distancing and vaccines, there’s talk about “getting back to normal” or finding “post-pandemic normalcy.” But what the fuck is normal anymore? It might depend on where you are in the Kübler-Ross Five Stages of Grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance—and where sweatpants fit into the equation.

Normal might
mean getting out of the sweatpants, leaving your home, and heading back to the office or classroom, to congregate, design, work, learn in the company of others. But others may have discovered that an isolated live-at-home situation—that allows you to yell into a pillow three times a day instead of coffee breaks or watercooler talk—is what you’ve been craving all of your life, you just never knew it until Summer 2020 when you wondered, Is it too warm outdoors for sweatpants? Answer: Who gives a shit, because if you’re indoors with air conditioning, sweatpants are the proper choice. On a personal note, I embraced casual wear years ago, but what works for me may not work for you. (That pillow thing? Works too, so does cursing out loud.)

Questions about what works and what’s best have always been top of mind for designers. Does this font work, which grid functions, what about color, which design is better, which design is best? Seeing, learning, making, presenting, and discussing those things can happen anywhere thanks to technology, and we all had to make it work 100% online beginning spring 2020. As a university professor, I’ve had design students attend my online classes from the Carolinas or as far away as Ukraine. I invited guest designers who beamed in from California, Georgia, and the United Kingdom, among other places. Stuck in our own pandemic bubble looking at shoulders and heads in a video conferencing grid, we communicated with people from many miles away thanks to technology.

If/when we get back to the “old normal” and accept the Monday–Friday office routines, Casual Fridays won’t feel as special since it’s been Casual Forever since spring 2020. At the very least, returning to the “old normal” will bring us together again with a newfound appreciation for each other. And yet, tomorrow’s designers may not want a 100% “in the office” experience, preferring some office days, some remote, or a completely online job that lets you work from anywhere. Why not? If it means hanging out in comfy sweatpants 24/7 while getting your design groove on, you do you. Where do we go from here? Nah. More like, Where do you go from here?

Juan Villanueva

Typeface Designer/Letterer/Educator

I know that things will never be the same after the pandemic. We lost over two million people to this virus. Some of them were my close relatives. But through everything this past year has brought upon us, I have to continue moving forward. As I reflect on this, I’m grateful for the opportunities that having a job has afforded me. That I’ve been able to form relationships with designers and students from all over the world. And that I’ve found new ways to contribute to the design community.

I was already working remotely when the pandemic hit. In fact, I’ve been working remotely as a type designer at Monotype for the past five years. My team works across various geographies and time zones, so even when we had an office, we would still frequently communicate via chat and video conference. I’m happy to trade my commute for more fulfilling, therapeutic activities, like drawing letters. I think that working remotely might be considered more “normal” these days, and I’m on board with that shift.

I do miss in-person meetups, but the shift online has opened up the doors to so many communities all over the world. All of a sudden, New York City wasn’t so far away from everywhere else, and vice versa. Rather than wait for a conference, event, or vacation to travel and meet people in other cities or countries, now it’s very common to organize video conference calls to collaborate and hang out. Lots of bonds have been strengthened during this time, and new ones have formed with designers from all over.

For instance, during the pandemic, I’ve enjoyed participating in Letrastica’s Type Cooker events and the first-ever Latin American Typography Tournament. At times, our online meetups turned into Zoom dance parties with everyone on the call, which was fun. I’ve also attended many online classes and conferences on design, history, education, pedagogy, etc., which before the pandemic would’ve been inaccessible to me and many others for geographic, financial, and timing reasons. This was definitely new to me, and I’m really hoping that these communities will continue to flourish and adapt to a hybrid world post-pandemic. But I still can’t wait to travel and see people once it’s safe.

I’m also an educator, and I’ve been teaching type in person for the past five years. But when the pandemic hit, we had to switch to a fully online environment. I also started teaching a new online course in Display Type Design at Type@Cooper. The field of type design is predominantly male and white, and as one of the few BIPOC type designers in my field, teaching is an opportunity to make a change and bring in new voices. So I started a Display Type BIPOC Fund to raise money and offer scholarships for BIPOC designers to take my class. So far I’ve run the scholarship three times, and each time I’ve been able to fund at least five seats. I’ll continue to teach the class online, and maybe in person once that becomes a reality. I do sincerely hope that institutions that offer online education continue to do so even after in-person classes come back. I really do believe that it’s helping increase access to opportunities, and I’m excited about that.

Providing access is only one part of the work. It’s also important to support students even after the class is over, so I put together a class website, displaytypedesign.com, to celebrate my students’ work and make their voices more visible. Education is an ongoing endeavor that needs to be sustained, so around the same time, in April of last year, I also founded Type Crit Crew, an initiative that helps make type designers and type design education more accessible to students everywhere.

Both my online class and scholarship as well as Type Crit Crew make it possible to create and sustain a community of type design students from all over the world. But I’m not alone in this, and I’m grateful to the type designers who signed up as Type Crit Crew instructors and are extending a hand to the current and next generation of type designers. And especially my dear friend Lynne Yun, who through her Type Design School and her own BIPOC scholarship is helping bring more people into type design.

My hopes for a post-pandemic world are that things get better. That the conversations we’re having around access, inclusion, and equality never, ever stop. And that more people look for ways to help in whatever way they can.

Armin Vit

Co-founder, Under Consideration

Other than the disruption that the pandemic caused on our business model, where a good 75–80% of our income came from in-person events, I think we are one of the rare cases where our pre-pandemic, pandemic and post-pandemic normals are about the same.

My wife and partner, Bryony Gomez-Palacio, and I have been working from home for 13 years, and it has always been part of our business model. So, the day-to-day has been relatively the same for me, although not so much for Bryony, who had to take on the role of mom many more hours of the day as our two kids—ages 11 and 14 (but 10 and 13 when this all started)—have been doing e-learning from home, and that’s all kinds of distracting. The biggest return to normalcy for us will be having our kids back at school. We love them, but we love them more when they are not at the house for eight hours. For me, it will actually be hard to go back to more in-person meetings, more social gatherings and more outings, because I currently have a routine that repeats perfectly every single day, every single week, every single month, and I cannot tell you how comforting that is for a control freak and introvert like me.

Jenny Volvovski

Designer, ALSO

I’ve been working from a home office since 2005, using various iterations of video chat to collaborate. Pandemic guilt set in quickly as I watched everyone scramble to rearrange their lives, while mine stayed largely the same. I have a feeling that my “old” and “new” normal will be pretty indistinguishable.

Forest Young

Chief Creative Officer, Wolff Olins

Post-pandemic normalcy will place into great contrast the lives we once lived set against our new collective path forward. In mental years, the “old normal” feels at least a decade away, as the turbulence of yesteryear has perfectly distorted all sense of time and space. My old self, in hindsight, appears to have an over-appreciation of fidelity—where craft precision held an outsized degree of importance and perhaps overshadowed the concept at the heart of the work.

My future self, having endured many setbacks, limitations, social isolation, and screen-mediated reality, has a newfound appreciation for constraints as a catalyst for creativity, evident in the resourcefulness seen in design artifacts created against all odds in 2020. I hope that we can carry on with the de facto suspension of judgment and acknowledgment of our basic humanness experienced in today’s video verité, as we greet one another in our respective living rooms and makeshift offices, continually interrupted by pets and children alike. What is more important than La Croix and the trappings of offices are rich conversations and the joy of the work, somehow more brilliant in the low-fi canvas of everyday life.

Zipeng Zhu

Designer

I don’t think it’s safe to say that everything is under control yet. At least not until most people are vaccinated. But I do think some sense of normal is coming back, especially a sense of human compassion, honesty, and care. I’m lucky that I got my shots already, so I can see the people I love again in person. For work, as well, I met up with a new client in person the other day because we were both vaccinated, and I can’t tell you what it’s like when you get to meet someone new in person and share some laughs.

I’ve been working from home for the past five years, and I was very OK with just being inside for a long time. However, I managed to do that with other activities to keep it interesting. Now I’ve become the most domesticated person that I was afraid one day I would turn into. When I’m taking a break from work, I do house chores and cook and cook and cook. I would say I appreciate the new way of remote working. It’s not only more flexible, but it has broadened my project from mostly U.S.-based work to across the globe. I don’t love being on video calls all the time, but I’ve been switching rooms and walls for different Zooms, so I can keep it fun for myself.

Work-wise, I was like a rocket that just kept going. In 2020, I was honored to be a part of the #CombatCovid project that PRINT, Poster House and TSQArts initiated that took over all the digital displays in Times Square. After that, I was invited by Rich Tu to be one of the featured BIPOC artists for the MTV VMAs all over the Barclay Center in Brooklyn. Lastly, I ended my year with my work among other artists like KAWS and Barbara Kruger on the cover of New York Magazine for the 2020 presidential election.

Edited by Steven Heller, Zachary Petit, and Bill McCool

When author Umberto Eco visited Yale University’s Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library in the fall of 2013, he asked to examine only one text: Manuscript 408, popularly known as the Voynich Manuscript.

Perhaps the late Italian novelist wanted to see the manuscript because it, like his masterpiece The Name of the Rose, is something of a literary puzzle requiring its would-be interpreters to be equally proficient in medieval history, semiotics and good old-fashioned detective work. Perhaps as he examined the Voynich Manuscript, turning its 600-year-old pages over in his hands, he recalled his own words from his 1980 novel: “Books always speak of other books, and every story tells a story that has already been told.”

This might well be true of the Voynich Manuscript Eco was so taken with—maybe its story is as old and banal as any other. But that kind of analysis would require someone to pull off a literary feat that has thus far proven impossible: reading it.

*

At first glance, the Voynich Manuscript is rather unassuming; it’s “unglamorous, even somewhat shabby,” writes Eamon Duffy in The New York Review of Books. Roughly 10 by 7 inches, its 234 pages—some have been lost since its original composition—are bound by a limp vellum, the Renaissance counterpart to today’s paperback. But if judging a book by its cover were ever misguided, it’s particularly wrong to do so with this manuscript, which, as far as we know, has never been decoded, though not for a lack of effort.

The book is named after its discoverer, the eccentric Lithuanian-born Polish bookseller Wilfrid Voynich, whose biography is anything but typical. While studying law and chemistry at the University of Moscow, Voynich became sympathetic to the Polish Nationalist movement, and eventually became a member of the social-revolutionary party, which led to his arrest in 1885. After being held prisoner for 18 months in Warsaw, he was exiled to Siberia to live out his five-year sentence. In 1890 Voynich escaped and went on the run, making his way through Mongolia, China and Germany before finally arriving in London, where he used his past as a political revolutionary to his advantage. Voynich quickly bonded with other exiles, including Sergey Kravchinsky, famously known as Stepniak. It was this man, well-placed in British cultural and intellectual circles, who introduced the young Pole to the exciting world of bookselling.

Following Stepniak’s unexpected death in 1895, Voynich opened his first bookshop three years later. According to Arnold Hunt, author of a biographical essay included in Yale’s volume The Voynich Manuscript, Voynich quickly established himself as one of the most knowledgeable and well-read booksellers in the business. Though he started out by collecting fifth- and sixth-century books, after several years in the trade he turned his eye toward higher-end items, like early Bibles.

Voynich bought the manuscript that now bears his name in 1912, though the precise circumstances surrounding the purchase aren’t entirely known. During one of his regular trips to Europe, he writes, he “came across a most remarkable collection of precious illuminated manuscripts,” most of which, he surmised, “must formerly have belonged to the private libraries of various ruling houses of Italy.” In comparison to the other manuscripts, which were embellished with arms and various hues of gold, the Voynich appeared to be an “ugly duckling.”

The collection Voynich purchased in 1912 was at the time the possession of Italian Jesuits who, since the unification of Italy in the latter half of the 19th century, and the subsequent government-ordered confiscation of their libraries, had been hiding their books. Some texts were discovered in a secret room at the Collegio Romano, and were summarily seized by the state. But most, including the Voynich Manuscript, were successfully kept under watch by the order, until it decided, for whatever reason, to sell about 380 manuscripts to the Vatican Library. The sale was initiated in 1903 and, as Ren. Zandbergen notes in his essay “Earlier Owners,” took nine years to complete. During that time, and “under the condition of absolute secrecy,” Voynich acquired a few of the books earmarked for the Vatican, including Cicero’s philosophical works and the soon-to-be-famous ugly duckling.

“My interest was aroused at once,” he later wrote.

*

If the outside of the book is unremarkable, its contents are anything but. Those who open the manuscript are met with elegant scribblings in an unknown language, and whimsical drawings of plants, star diagrams and nude women.

The text was written, as most of its medieval contemporaries were, with a quill pen. The parchment was made from the skin of a calf, certainly a more expensive writing surface than other available options, like stone or wood. The process of preparing parchment for writing was laborious, as Yale librarian Raymond Clemens explains in the collection of Voynich essays he edited. The first step was to soak the skin in lime juice for several days, the result being that hair follicles swell and are easier to remove. The skin was then placed over a round object, perhaps a tree trunk, and the parchment maker used his hands to scrape off the loose hair. He then draped the pelt over a rack designed to stretch it taut, and with a lunellum, or curved knife, scraped both sides of the skin. The more a particular skin was worked over, the lighter and thinner it became, which meant that the more valuable parchments were nearly white on both sides, as is the case with the Voynich Manuscript. After several days of drying, the skin was whitened with chalk or some other substance and cut into individual sheets. It was then ready for writing.

The word ink is derived from the Latin encaustum, which translates to “having been burned”—appropriate, given what Medieval people believed about the writing process. When first applied to a parchment, explains Clemens, the iron-gall inks would appear light brown, until some time later when a chemical reaction caused the inks to darken. In addition to brown, other colors in MS 408 are white, green, yellow, red and blue, all of which were inexpensive and common, Clemens notes.

Aficionados of the manuscript refer to the text as Voynichese, because it is sui generis. The writing aesthetic is sophisticated and pleasing to the eye, like the languid, loopy cursive of one’s third-grade teacher. The text moves left to right, top to bottom, and is broken up into what look like paragraphs, most of which begin with a character that is double in size to most of the letters of the page, something a modern reader might consider to function like a capital letter or drop cap. There are four such characters in the manuscript, which experts refer to as “gallows”
characters. These are sometimes written in conjunction with another symbol, and the occurrence of both together is known as “pedestalled gallows.”

Voynichese “has a deceptively flowing, rhythmic quality that suggests long practice and familiarity on the part of the scribe or scribes,” writes M.E. D’Imperio in a 1978 book published by the National Security Agency, which was only recently declassified.Whoever composed this text knew what he, she or they were doing. Some handwriting experts think the lettering resembles the Humanist minuscule script from 15th-century Italy.

“The basic alphabet of frequently occurring symbols is small,” writes D’Imperio—some 15-25 characters. A selection of these individual characters is ligatured to create other symbols, which are then grouped together to form what is presumed to be words. The number of diff erent words in the manuscript, writes D’Imperio, “seems surprisingly limited,” with the same word being used several times in succession. Most words are short, merely four or five symbols in length. Two-letter words are rare, as are words made up of more than seven symbols. There are also instances where words differ from each other only by one letter (e.g., share and shape in English). According to an estimate cited by D’Imperio, there are approximately 250,000 characters in the manuscript.

As Zandbergen notes on a website he runs about the Voynich Manuscript, the text contains a number of characters that appear strikingly similar to Latin ones: ‘a,’ ‘c,’ ‘i’ (undotted), ‘m,’ ‘n,’ ‘o.’ Several others seem to resemble the numerals 2, 4, 8 and 9. Each folio is numbered on the right-hand margin, though experts agree this was done after its original compilation.

In addition to such unknown characters, every page contains drawings ranging from simple doodles to elaborate floral renderings. In fact, the text appears to be written around its drawings, which, as they are at least interpretable to experts, offer a useful structure for organizing MS 408.

The first half of the manuscript, about 130 pages, is referred to as the Herbal section. On each folio can be found a large drawing of plants; the text is carefully organized around the images, resistant to any overlap. Experts do not agree as to whether these plants are fantastical or based on real-world species. Edith Sherwood, a retired professor of chemistry, has spent years trying to match plants in MS 408 to their possible 15th-century counterparts. Of the 126 plants in the text, she claims to have identified 124, which gives her a 98 percent success rate. Others, like Eamon Duffy, claim the drawings represent “biological impossibilities,” such as one that depicts a plant’s “roots and branches [bifurcating] and then [reconnecting] again to form a single stem.”

The second section of Voynich is the Astronomical section, which contains large foldout pages, a feature that is rare—though not unheard of—for books produced in the same period. The foldouts feature a central drawing of either stars or an anthropomorphized sun or moon, around which curl Voynichese text as well as smaller illustrations. This section is followed by 10 folios featuring plump nude women bathing. Duffy calls the figures “decidedly unerotic,” which echoes D’Imperio’s assessment that they “certainly do not present an appearance of voluptuous beauty to the modern American eye.” Each female figure sits, stands or lies on tubs, tubes, pipes or other water conduits.

There’s another astronomical section, followed by some more herbal images that make up the book’s Pharmaceutical section. Some experts believe the short blocks of Voynichese in this section to be medical recipes. The book closes with about two dozen folios almost completely covered in the mystifying language, their only adornment a vertical line of stars on the left-hand margin.

And with that, the world’s most mysterious manuscript comes to a whispered end.

*

Since the enigmatic MS 408 came to light a century ago, many possible solutions have been posed as to what it means. But Zandbergen is less concerned about meanings than the historical events that helped produce the text.

“For me, the question isn’t, ‘What does it say?’ Or, ‘How can we convert it back to meaningful text?’ But, ‘How did they do it?’” says Zandbergen. “Somebody sat down and wrote it. Somebody invested a lot of time and money, or somebody’s money. There was a message there because of the consistency [of the text] from beginning to end. There must have been a purpose.”

That being said, questions about the text’s purpose aren’t any easier to answer than questions surrounding the text’s meaning. That’s because experts have no idea how the text came to be in the first place. They have only been able to construct a piecemeal history based on what many assume to be reliable clues.

The first is a letter from 1665, which was included with the manuscript when Voynich purchased it in 1912. According to the ensigned, Prague scientist Johannes Marcus Marci, the book was sold to the Holy Roman Emperor Rudolf II for 600 ducats. Marci also included the information he heard from someone else, that the manuscript was produced by Roger Bacon, Doctor Mirabilis, the controversial 13th-century Franciscan and scientist. Voynich was convinced Bacon was the original author, as is clear from the title he gave MS 408: “The Roger Bacon Cipher Manuscript.” The rare book dealer Hans Peter Kraus similarly advertised the manuscript when he tried to sell it in the 1960s. When no one would bite on his exorbitant asking price—as high as $160,000—Kraus ultimately donated the text to Yale University in 1969, where it’s lived ever since.

Carbon dating has since ruled out the possibility of Baconian authorship. Findings from the University of Arizona in 2009 place the manuscript between 1404 and 1438, with a 95 percent probability. It should be noted, however, that some experts believe the manuscript might be copied from an earlier one, given the lack of erasure or correction markings in the text. Therefore, while MS 408 is conclusively of 15th-century origins, it is possible its source material—if there is any—predates the text in Yale’s library.

Nonetheless, though Voynich’s belief in Bacon’s authorship has been summarily debunked, there are good reasons to believe Voynich was correct to place the text in Rudolf II’s court. One of the chief reasons has to do with a discovery made by Voynich some time after his purchase. Applying an unidentified chemical to the front page of the text, Voynich was able to read the name Jacobus Hořčický de Tepenec, which was until that time invisible to the unaided eye. (Contemporary multispectral imaging has revealed the same name.)

Hořčický, also known as Sinapius, was raised by Jesuits and perhaps spent time at Prague’s Jesuit College. His pharmaceutical reputation preceded him, and he was thus able to curry favor with Rudolf II, who, according to a possibly apocryphal legend, Hořčický cured from a deathly disease. In 1608, the emperor ennobled him with the title z Tepenec—an important detail for Voynich scholars because MS 408 includes the stately title, which means he added his name to the text after his official assignment. When Hořčický died in 1622, he left all of his possessions to the Prague Jesuit’s library, but for some reason, 408 ended up somewhere else.

By 1637, Georgius Barschius came into possession of the manuscript, by means still unknown. A lawyer by trade, Barschius was convinced the text was med
ical, which was, as he wrote in a letter to the Jesuit polymath Athanasius Kircher, “the most beneficial branch of learning for the human race apart from the salvation of souls.” Barschius believed Kircher to have an unmatched intellect, and pleaded with him to try his hand at the unreadable text. The mathematician wrote back two years later, in March 1639, admitting failure. As Zandbergen notes, this letter was discovered in 2000, and is the earliest reference to MS 408 in the historical record.

But Barschius persisted: “Now since there was in my library, uselessly taking up space, a certain riddle of the Sphinx, a piece of writing in unknown characters, I thought it would not be out of place to send the puzzle to the Oedipus of Egypt to be solved.” If Kircher did answer the appeal, his reply is lost to history.

Upon Barschius’ death around 1662, his personal alchemical library, including MS 408, was bequeathed to Marci, the Prague scientist. Three years later, Marci, desperate to have the secret text cracked, again sent the manuscript to Kircher, which is where the historical trail goes cold—until Voynich’s purchase in 1912.

*

When Yale procured MS 408 almost a half century ago, its catalogue entry read: “Scientific or magical texts in an unidentified language, in cipher, apparently based on Roman minuscule characters.” Voynich himself was convinced the Voynichese was a cipher. Some of the most brilliant cryptographic minds have spent countless hours trying to crack its code, as it were, only to end up right back where they started: ignorance.

The first scholar to claim he’d interpreted the manuscript was historian William Romaine Newbold, who worked under the now-debunked assumption that Bacon wrote the text. Newbold believed Bacon’s cipher system to be what William Sherman describes as “anagrammed micrographic shorthand.” That is, the letters’ orderings were changed, the words were abbreviated, and the characters were composed of tinier symbols only visible when magnified. Newbold’s theories were at first praised by the medievalist John Matthews Manly who, in a Harper’s Monthly article, introduced his findings.

But by 1931, Manly came to disbelieve Newbold’s theories. What Newbold was convinced were micrographic scribblings were nothing more than random cracks formed in dry ink. “It appears that Professor Newbold’s cipher systems and his decipherments were not discoveries of secrets hidden by Roger Bacon but the products of his own intense enthusiasm and his learned ingenious subconscious,” concluded Manly.

The other most well-known deciphering attempts were made by the husband and wife team William and Elizabeth Friedman. Manly met William in 1916 at what is now known as the “Cradle of Cryptography,” housed in the Chicago-area Riverbank Laboratories. (William, by the way, corroborated Manly’s assessment of Newbold’s Voynich work.) At the time, the Department of Codes and Ciphers focused its energies on literary secrets—for example, the idea that Francis Bacon was the actual author of Shakespeare’s works. Elizabeth was one of Riverbank’s Shakespeare scholars, and according to Sherman, shared her future husband’s patriotic loyalty to the U.S. government, as well as his fascination with literary ciphers.

As the need for cryptologists became more apparent, Riverbank’s focus shifted to breaking military secrets. By 1921, William and Elizabeth had moved to Washington, DC, where they both took up government posts. It was there that Manly put the couple in touch with Voynich, who in 1925 sent them a few photographs of his own cipher manuscript he’d developed. Those images piqued the newlyweds’ interest, and for the next 40 years, the duo remained committed to figuring out the puzzling text. The pursuit paused during WWII, as William’s team set to work cracking the Japanese code known as Purple. Near the end of the war, in 1944, William turned his attention once again to MS 408, and to that end assembled the Voynich Manuscript Study Group, which met regularly in Arlington Hall.

For almost 15 more years, the Friedmans continued to try to decipher the book, but over that time, their enthusiasm for the enterprise seems to have waned. In a 1959 article for Philological Quarterly, “Acrostics, Anagrams and Chaucer,” the two expressed the ultimate futility of trying to solve anagrammatic ciphers. The article was accompanied by a note explaining that the text itself was an anagram. The solution was sealed in an envelope and given to the editor of the journal, who printed the secret message when he ran the original article again in 1970.

The message: “The Voynich MS was an early attempt to construct an artificial or universal language of the a priori type.—Friedman.”

*

“Nothing about the book is plausible,” says Reed Johnson, a Ph.D. candidate in Slavic Languages at the University of Virginia and a longtime Voynich Manuscript enthusiast. “The book itself is implausible.”

It could be a cipher, he says, but given that the manuscript looks to be some sort of compendium of knowledge, why disguise the information in the first place? Perhaps, he suggests, the composer wanted to make banal natural phenomena seem more magical than they are. Or perhaps the images have nothing to do with the text—although this seems unlikely given the consistent patterns that emerge between words and drawings. For example, some words are specifically thematic, occurring only in certain sections.

“One of the most plausible theories is it could be an invented language,” says Johnson, echoing the Friedmans’ own cryptic Conclusion.

What about a fraud? Could the entire thing be a hoax? British cryptoanalyst John Tiltman summarized in 1951 the problems with this theory: “I do not believe the manuscript is completely meaningless, the ravings or doodlings of a lunatic, nor do I believe it is just a hoax—it is too elaborate and consistent to be either.” As for the theory that it was a deliberate forgery created for financial gain, Tiltman admits this is possible though “rather improbable.”

Zandbergen says he is open to the possibility that the text “has no meaning at all.” Johnson goes even further: In the battle between the text and human readers, he says he’s “rooting for the manuscript.”

If the Voynich Manuscript remains unreadable, what value is there in studying it? It’s no doubt a work of beauty—even a cursory glance at one page of the text would lead anyone to that conclusion. But aren’t scholarly energies better directed toward texts that can be figured out, toward typographies that can be assigned meaning?

On the contrary, says Johnson, the Voynich Manuscript is worth studying precisely because it resists reading. “In an age when information is so readily available to us, there’s something important about a book that can’t be read. It’s sort of an island of inexplicability in the midst of a life in which everything is resolved.”

Every time we look at the Voynich Manuscript, we’re forced to confront the limits of our understanding. In contrast to most books we read and interpret, “the Voynich Manuscript is about your failure and your inability to read it,” says Johnson.

This is none other than a lesson from Eco’s The Name of the Rose: “Books are not made to be believed, but to be subjected to inquiry.” That is certainly true of the elusive Voynich Manuscript Eco once held in his hands.

The Voynich Manuscript by Pixelate on Scribd

Brandon Ambrosino is a writer living in Delaware. His pieces have appeared in The New York Times, Boston Globe, The Atlantic, Politico and the BBC, among other outlets.

Earlier this month, graduating SUNY Downstate medical student Amy Johnson and classmate Jeffrey Arace launched an initiative to help take on the problem with tech. They were joined by film and photography producer Ian Kaplan, commercial and documentary film producer Wyatt Angelo, and SUNY Downstate student Shenara Musthaq—and the team has quickly built iPads to Hospitals into a COVID-19 relief project that has proven to be critical for patients longing for connection.

Their process: Collect underutilized, pre-owned iPads via contactless pickup and through the mail from donors around the country. The team then loads them with a medley of video conferencing platforms, from the on-board FaceTime to Zoom, Google Hangouts and Skype. They then get them to hospitals, where each upcycled device aids multiple patients.

Here, the team discusses the initiative. For more info—and to donate an iPad or funds to acquire more—click here.

How did you first realize the need for this project?

Johnson: I’m a graduating medical student, entering psychiatry residency in June, and I’d been speaking with an ER physician regarding what my role might look like if I qualified for early graduation. She explained the dire need for people to assist patients in communicating with their families using their limited supply of iPads, as many patients were dying alone. I was distraught by the news that this was happening, so I looked into if they could accept iPads donated by community members. One Instagram and Twitter post later, my email inbox was being flooded with donation inquiries from all over the country. I reached out to Jeffrey Arace, a fellow SUNY Downstate medical student who had swiftly organized the collection of iPads from the medical students, to combine our efforts. And at that point, I began reaching out to my contacts at other NYC hospitals, as I realized our incoming supply could serve the needs of more than just University Hospital of Brooklyn at SUNY Downstate.

Arace: Shortly after our hospital restricted visitors, I spoke with a patient who showed me how heartbreaking it was. She was an elderly woman who had been in the hospital for over a week with COVID-19. During that time her husband, who had also tested positive for the virus, was admitted to a different hospital. She tried calling him but the virus had made it so difficult for him to breathe that he couldn’t speak more than a few words. Knowing the seriousness of his condition, she was afraid she would never see him again. A dialysis patient herself, she has been hospitalized many times over the years but has always had her family at the bedside for support. “Without them, I am devastated,” she told me. At that time I knew we had to do something to connect patients and their families.

Kaplan: I became aware of this initiative thanks to a friend of mine reposting one of Amy’s story posts on Instagram two weeks ago. The concept that New Yorkers were dying alone and scared in the COVID-19 units of hospitals resonated with me in a deeply profound way, and within 24 hours I came to the decision that this is what I’m going to dedicate my days to for the time being.

Have you started delivery to hospitals? And how does the submission process to hospitals work?

Johnson: As of April 19, we have delivered 346 iPads to a total of eight hospitals and one nursing home/rehabilitation center, spread across the Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens, Manhattan, Long Island and even Boston. We have over 150 additional iPads committed for donation at this time, with our numbers rising every day. All of our donation pick-ups and drop-offs are contactless, and our volunteers wear masks when outside. For hospital drop-offs, one volunteer prepares the box of iPad donations for the hospital and places it into the trunk of the volunteer driver’s car. Upon arrival at the hospital, the healthcare worker wearing PPE (personal protective equipment) removes the box of iPad donations from the trunk, and hospital staff then sanitize the iPads upon receipt. Using this system, we are able to follow the social distancing recommendations.

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A post shared by Nicolas Heller (@newyorknico) on Apr 14, 2020 at 9:16am PDT

Via director Nicolas Heller, who has been helping New Yorkers throughout the pandemic in a variety of ways, including his recent accent contest.

Which hospitals are you focusing the initiative on?

Musthaq: We are primarily focusing on publicly funded hospitals and nonprofit hospitals around New York City. These hospitals treat an underserved population who have been heavily affected by the virus and who are also a demographic less likely to have a phone with video chat capability. However, we seek to fulfill requests or provide guidance to every hospital that contacts us for a donation. When people are as sick as these patients, a phone, tablet or charger may not have made the trip to the hospital, and our aim is that every sick patient has the capability to communicate with their loved ones.

How are you handling the learning curve of people who might not be familiar with iPads?

Kaplan: The hospitals currently being hit the hardest with overflowing COVID-19 units are sometimes also the ones with the least resources to help troubleshoot technical issues. There’s nothing that we can do about this unfortunate fact, and with us not being able to enter the hospitals, we’ve done what we consider to be the next best thing to support the effective use of these iPads: make ourselves personally available 24/7 to troubleshoot remotely when called upon, and type up consolidated instructions for how to initiate video conference calls on a variety of apps, and share them with the hospitals that we are serving. We’ve also taken measures to ensure that donors of used iPads are given all of the necessary guidance to be able to properly factory reset their device before handing off or mailing in. It’s a specific and technical process, so
people who otherwise use their iPad for lighter duty tasks sometimes need a helping hand.

How many people are involved with the project?

Johnson: Currently, Ian, Wyatt, Shenara and I are working full time on this project to facilitate the day-to-day operations; however, we now have over 15 dedicated volunteers that are involved, mostly all either fellow film/photography producers or medical students. Our unique combination of healthcare alongside media backgrounds, I think, is what has propelled this into such a large and effective initiative in such a short period of time.

Have you heard any personal stories of people using them so far?

Angelo: I’ve reached out to a couple of people on social media who have shared their experience using tablets to contact hospitalized family members. In particular, a young woman in New York did a group chat with her parents, siblings, and her hospitalized grandfather using an iPad. They were able to share with him a song sung by his great-grandchildren, a couple of family jokes, and to tell him how important he had been to all of them before a final “I love you.” Miraculously, he has pulled through for the time, but she said that moment gave the entire family a chance to pay their respects to someone very important to them and a sense of peace they would not have otherwise had. Stories like this have only affirmed our cause and our goal to facilitate this experience for as many families as we can.

Is there a plan for the iPads after the crisis? (Will they stay with the hospitals?)

Musthaq: As of right now we have been focusing on the need at hand, and the hospitals are our endpoint of donation. If we find the need declines in NYC but rises in other cities, we have thought to look into reallocation. However, because of the nature of the hospitals to which we have donated, if they have a future need for the technology, we would be happy to support them after the immense support they have provided for our community.

Is this something you would like to see others take up around the country?

Johnson: Absolutely, as long as there is a demand in that area. We have actually received messages from people across the country eager to bring this initiative to their community. I have been assisting these individuals in how best to contact local hospitals to assess their needs, and once the demand is verified, we are more than happy to share our methods for collecting and distributing donations. At times, I have been able to connect these individuals with other groups across the country that are starting similar initiatives in their city.

Kaplan: A main goal of ours throughout this whole process has been to “open source” the set of guidelines and tools we’ve developed to address this problem in New York City. More than anything, I would love to see the need for our efforts disappear altogether. But as long as there are cities with hospitals where COVID-19 patients are unable to stay connected with their families, I would like to see our systems for building an iPad donation effort being used there.

Berlin-based gallery dealer Johann König makes a living selling art he can barely see—he has 2% vision.

When he was 11 years old, he was playing with toy store gunpowder when it suddenly exploded in his hands. “I saw a flash,” König told Art Agenda. “I couldn’t see anything and I was extremely hurt.”

After 14 hours of operations, he was transferred to the local eye hospital, where the chairman did another 12-hour operation, “and they were kind of surprised that they worked something out at all, I think,” says König, who represents 29 artists, many of whom are collected in the Museum of Modern Art in New York. “When I do studio visits [with artists], they are so nice, you know?” he says. “Artists will show me a crappy, bad, photocopied image and I honestly see nothing on it and then they explain everything to me and I get it. It’s fine.”

Making aesthetic judgments that make or break thousands of euros doesn’t faze him. “It’s not about knowing whether the art is good or bad,” says König. “I’m able to build up an imagination of the piece and this forms a communication with the artist, which is very important, to also form trust.”

Anyone can become blind, at any age, any time. According to the World Health Organization, 285 million people worldwide are visually impaired—39 million are blind and 246 million have low vision, 90% of whom live in developing countries. Roughly 82% of the visually impaired are over the age of 50. The United States is home to 6.6 million blind citizens over the age of 16, according to the National Federation of the Blind. And viewed collectively, these statistics make up a ripe challenge—one that designers can truly impact.

THE BRAILLE REVOLUTION

Braille, the embossed language for the visually impaired, is seeing revolutionary changes in its design. It’s the advent of the long-awaited “braille revolution” that Fredric Schroeder, the first vice president of the National Federation of the Blind, called for in 1994. Schroeder defined it as necessary “for true social equality.”

“Today, we have braille on medical packaging, wine labels, restaurant menus, personal cards,” Portuguese graphic designer Bruno Brites says. “It is also possible to have braille dots with color, which explores the visual side of braille and its aesthetic shape.”

Canadian, Chinese, Mexican, Indian, Israeli and Russian currencies are printed with braille, as are British pillboxes and American buildings. With Apple products, the blind can take photos of words and hear them transcribed—a braille note-taker app for the iPad called iBrailler Notes was recently unveiled, too, offering a way to quickly type braille notes on a touchscreen. The visually impaired can also browse the web with the B2G braille keyboard and JAWS software, a tool that reads websites aloud. The blind can use word-to-audio narration Kurzweil, use the braille translator Duxbury DBT with more than 130 languages and the NDVA open-source reading software.

In 2014, the first commercially affordable 3D printed braille phone also hit the market by OwnPhone, while Index Braille released a portable braille embosser called Basic-D. And in 2015, Apple’s VoiceOver, which reads speech in Apple products, garnered the 2015 Helen Keller Achievement Award from the American Foundation for the Blind.

3D printed braille phone by OwnFone

“Braille has adapted wonderfully to modern technologies,” says Marie-Renée Hector, a blind ceramics sculptor who was partially sighted until 1995, when her retina detached. But, “With new technologies and computer speech development, some people say that it is the end of braille, that it has become useless or obsolete. These people don’t know what they’re talking about or have lost their sight late and don’t want to adapt to their new condition. Braille pages can now have different formats and large maps can be made of towns, countries, as well as art books, geometry, chemistry diagrams and graphs.”

While speech synthesizers are much faster, “refreshable braille displays”—electronic devices that feature morphing braille characters via raised pins on a keyboard-like structure—are ideal for deaf-blind users. “[It] represents a huge step for the blind in having a quick access to a computer and general information—these devices make visually impaired people much more independent, more literate and free in their own lives,” Brites says.

There is even a braille version of Playboy, which has been printed since 1970. Held in the National Library Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped, the Internet Archive brought it online in 2011. Naturally, it’s read for the articles, as there is no pictorial version. (That’s left to pornfortheblind.org, a volunteer-run website that donates porn audio clips.)

One hub for print development is The National Braille Press, a braille magazine publisher, which launched the Center for Braille Innovation in Boston. Built as a base for new ideas and affordable tech tools, the Center recently held a tactile graphic and thermoform workshop that aids braille. By featuring design tools to create lines and braille textures on a thermoform machine, it seems almost anything can be printed on a ViewPlus Tiger embosser—at least someday.

THE HISTORY OF BRAILLE

The history of braille started 191 years ago, arou
nd the same time James Monroe was president and people were going to Beethoven concerts. “Braille” is the surname of Louis Braille, a French scholar who lost his eyesight in a childhood accident—one similar to that of König. While he was studying at the Royal Institute for Blind Youth in Paris, Braille created a reading and writing code in 1824, when he was just 15 years old. Inspired by the military cryptography system created by French army captain Charles Barbier (who developed “night writing” for Napoleon’s military to read in darkness), Braille created the raised dot-based system for the blind “to be treated as equals,” as he said, “and communication is the way this can be brought about.”

While it was first invented for the French alphabet, English braille soon followed. As National Braille Press explains, “The braille cell is a unit of six raised or embossed dots—two horizontally and three vertically. Each dot in the cell is referenced by its placement numbers of dot 1 through dot 6. Various combinations of the six dots represent letters, numbers and word contractions.”

Today, there are three braille codes:

1. Grade One (uncondensed) braille spells out the 26 letters of the alphabet.

2. Grade Two (condensed) braille—the standard for most users—is literary, condensing words into cells made of 250 photogram letters, numbers, abbreviations, contractions, punctuation and formatting marks.

3. Building on the Grade Two contractions, Grade Three braille is shorthand for fast readers. It adds 200 celled words to the vocabulary (for example, the word acknowledge in short form is ack).

Both Grade Two and Grade Three braille are condensed for practical reasons (paper) and length issues.

There are also embossed graphs and illustrations, as well as braille numbers (called Nemeth) and braille musical notation—as Louis Braille was a cellist and organ player in the Parisian Church of Saint-Nicolas-des-Champs.

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Braille design can only be read if it’s measured correctly to fit under the reader’s fingertips. “If cells are too small, too large, too close together or uneven in spacing, the message can’t be read properly,” says Frances Mary D’Andrea, chair of the Braille Authority of North America. “There is a standard size for each cell and standard distances between cells and even within a cell.”

So, no “font” sizes can be changed. According to National Braille Press, a standard braille page is 11 inches by 11.5 inches, and a 12-point document will essentially double in length with braille.

Exclamation marks? All caps? Italics? When braille needs to indicate a change in the type, symbols are added before and after a word, phrase or paragraph, not unlike the Spanish language.

To help readers and transcribers, the design of braille follows the format guidelines of each country’s braille authority (in the U.S., for example, that is the Braille Authority of North America).

“There are levels of headings, formats for things like columns, poetry, footnotes, captions, and all sorts of text elements,” says D’Andrea. “And of course, many braille readers use electronic braille displays to read material online or stored electronically. The design of those devices is also important to readability.”

With such a comprehensive system in place, one wonders why braille literacy is so low. The National Federation of the Blind says only 10% of the visually impaired can read braille (a statistic they’re attempting to improve through educational resources and initiatives).

One reason for such low literacy is because many who are blind or severely visually impaired are above 65 years old, “and many don’t have the opportunity to learn braille for complicated reasons,” says D’Andrea. “In children, blindness and visual impairment are considered a ‘low-incidence’ disability in the U.S.—one of the lowest in all of special education. Many children with visual impairments also have additional disabilities, including cognitive disabilities that make braille reading slower or more difficult for them. Service delivery issues factor in.”

There are braille bookstores, both online (Amazon’s bestselling braille list includes several children’s book titles) and in major cities, which sell everything from Danielle Steel to Star Trek, as well as young adult novels, textbooks and children’s books. The problem is that braille books are heavy and expensive to produce, with mounting costs for expert transcription, proper paper, embossing—and then often assembling the book by hand, since modern binding equipment doesn’t handle braille well.

When National Braille Press printed the Harry Potter series, it clocked in at over 56 volumes, each tome at least 12 inches thick. They’re not cheap, either: Each Harry Potter book costs between $65 and $218, depending on its length—and that’s before the costs of shipping a 50-pound book.

A braille edition of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, in five volumes

Some organizations have been working on the problem, though—a nonprofit called Seedlings collects donations and sells braille books to children for a low cost average, such as $10 a book—and others are working on designs to spread braille literacy to even more potential readers who may not have the money or resources to get their hands on a braille book.

PUSHING THE BOUNDARIES OF BRAILLE

While every facet of design has its superheroes and heroines, so too does braille.

One of them is Philipp Meyer, who designed an experimental, tactile comic book for the blind called Life. Possibly the first braille comic ever, the story unfolds through shaped characters that call to mind a game of “Pong,” but with a non-text narrative. “I always wanted to see how graphically simplifed a story can be without losing its meaning,” Meyer writes on his website. “I wanted to use comic techniques, the user’s imagination, and let the medium do the work.”

Philipp Meyer’s tactile comic, Life

It isn’t a superhero comic book. Every page has four frames depicting situations with braille numbers to explain the reading direction. The first frames introduce one character—a circle—that grows up and meets another, represented by a circle with a differ
ent texture. “They get closer and closer until they have a child, who leaves home at some point; then one human dies, and after a while the other human dies as well,” says Meyer. “It’s about life itself.”

Meanwhile, Brites designed a braille version of Message, a poetry book by Portuguese writer Fernando Pessoa. A design master’s project at the Duncan and Jordanstone College of Art and Design, it was produced in collaboration with ceramicists, bookbinders and two braille readers. “My blind collaborators participated in the design process, helping to certify the legibility of braille, discussing the best solutions to achieve the final layout of the haptic image and choosing the best materials,” says Brites. “As a graphic designer, it was definitely a test of my communication boundaries.”

The sculptor Hector helped Brites with his book, which originated as a ceramics book, lo and behold. “I have always been a defender of braille, being blind myself and having learned braille from the age of 4,” Hector says. “When I met Bruno, we exchanged a lot [of ideas] about his book and I encouraged him to create a poetry book; we discussed its aspects, the pleasure of touching different materials, the coldness or softness of materials for fingers. … It was really great for me to meet him because he showed me how much he believed in the development of beautiful objects together with braille. I am always grateful to those who have no prejudices whatsoever.”

Braille and standard typography have also seen recent overlaps. German designer Simone Fahrenhorst created an alphabet that combines braille into “a new typography that can be seen as an intersection between braille and normal print,” as a way to prepare the elderly for reading braille type, says Fahrenhorst.

Braille type by Simone Fahrenhorst.

Meanwhile, English designer Greg Bland created an alternative braille typeface based upon the “Kobigraph,” a typographic bridge between embossed braille and the alphabet. His typeface, the Kobi Serif, is an alternative to braille inspired by calligraphy inspired by Korean symbols. It can be read by everyone—it embodies the same cell structure as braille but the dots are connected with a calligraphic script “as a guide,” says Bland, “to get people understanding braille.”

Award-winning designer Rene Put took a similar approach with stamps created for the Dutch national post, combining text and braille to celebrate Louis Braille’s birthday. “Read Them” offered short phrases that combined braille and text into what Put calls “a typographical puzzle.”

“For the first time, the blind could read and experience a stamp,” says Put, who, for each phrase, added the missing letters by printing them on the back of the stamp (sort of like a cheat sheet).

BRAILLE AS ART

Some of the most fascinating recent creative developments in braille are the role it has been playing in the arts. A festival called the Blind Creations Conference in England kicked off in 2015 at Royal Holloway University in Egham, Surrey.

A hub for academics who cover blind topics, it stretched far beyond your typical PowerPoint presentations by including a haptic exhibition. Works by seven blind artists were on show, hoping to break down the “helpless blind” stereotype. Rather, it’s “not just giving people a piece of braille but playing with issues around celebrating blindness as a creative force,” says Hannah Thompson, a blind educator who co-founded the event with Vanessa Warne.

Bringing together academics, designers and artists, Thompson and Warne pulled together a program of tactile art, photographs taken by the blind, audio-directed theater, public art sculptures and raised print poetry. “It’s a different way to experience art and design,” Thompson says.

And not only that, but it breaks the rules of the art world, too. “Do not touch the art” has a whole new meaning. “Everyone was allowed to touch everything,” laughs Thompson, who specializes in French literature at Royal Holloway.

One highlight from the festival included a public sculpture carved from concrete by blind English artist David Johnson called “Too Big to Feel.” Johnson created 18 large concrete domes that are each 66 pounds in weight. They sit on a grassy slope in front of the conference, and spell out “Seeing Red” in Grade Two braille. The artist, who became blind in his mid-30s, made the pieces by pouring concrete into plastic bags on a table with a carved out hole. “He wanted to make the point that visual metaphors have become so much of our language,” says Thompson. “‘Seeing Red’ is not about seeing but understanding or believing, as blind artists connect with the world through touch.”

“Too Big to Feel”

The piece poses a paradox: If you’re blind, you can’t read the work as braille unless you awkwardly crawl across the grass piecing it together—but even then it’s simply too big, says Thompson. If you’re sighted, you can’t read it either because you never learned braille. That middle point is the crux, however. “Braille is creative—it’s an inventive way of expressing things,” she says. “An artform.”

The conference also featured a cameo from a London-based theater company for the visually impaired, Extant, which is developing a handheld haptic white cube called the Animotus that leads attendees through a pitch-dark play with an indoor localization system similar to GPS.

Created in collaboration with Dr. Ad Spiers of Yale University and Dr. Janet van der Linden of Open University, the pilot play, “Flatland,” dressed guests up in neoprene, spacesuit-like uniforms wired to the Animotus. Through localization systems, WiFi and radio frequencies, instructions were sent in real time to the devices through a microcontroller in the system’s hardware.

The show is sort of an Orwellian dystopia, a world where talking is prohibited. Based on a satirical novella by Edwin Abbott Abbott written in 1884, guests are transported to the world described in the book, primarily hearing and feeling. Able to move around the dark theater with the plastic cubes in their hands, guests are led by vibrations. So far, the project has received £125,000 in government funding for the development of the cube, and a full public performance is set for 2018.

But most important: Experts say devices like this could make the visually impaired more independent by allowing them to navigate the unknown with trust, potentially replacing guide dogs and canes and ushering in a new era of autonomy.

DAWN OF THE REVOLUTION

Back in the day, when Schroeder, who is now 58, called for a braille revolution, he said:

We must do it by first believing that we are as capable as others, by banding together and demanding access to literacy comparable with our sighted peers. We must do it by coming together through organizations such as the Italian Blind Union, the European Blind Union, and the World Blind Union and convincing society that our claim to equality is not merely wishful thinking or hyperbole, but fact.

Once we have achieved a shift in the way we and society view blindness and adjust our expectations accordingly, then I believe the resources will follow. By reshaping society’s assumptions about blindness, we can begin replacing the belief that minimal functioning is all that can be expected from the blind. Once this has been achieved, braille becomes no longer simply the method by which the less-fortunate read, but instead takes its rightful place as the means to literacy for the blind.

The revolution continues.

About Nadja Sayej

Nadja Sayej is a culture journalist and photographer who covers architecture, travel, design, technology and art. She writes for The New York Times, T: The New York Times Style Magazine, The Guardian, Forbes, Harper's Bazaar, among others. She has written four books, including Getting Your S*** Together and Biennale Bitch. Follow her on Twitter at @nadjasayej and check out her work at nadjasayej.com.

View all posts by Nadja Sayej →

We graphic designers will have some explaining to do. While others are in denial about the state of the world, we unwittingly find ourselves as some of the chief architects of that denial—

Wait.

Stop.

Don’t do it! I can see the wheels turning in reaction to what I just wrote. Don’t belittle the power of graphic design. Don’t rationalize your design contributions as a drop in the bucket or merely the result of your day job. Don’t deflect blame to other industries.

Moreover, don’t wonder aloud if I’ve ever read the First Things First manifestos, or any other more recent writing on the role of visual communication in normalizing unsustainable behaviors and ways of thinking. Don’t roll your eyes. And don’t groan.

If you’ve already resigned yourself to any of the above—or latched onto one or more of them with instinctual zeal—it serves only to reinforce my observation: You’re in denial. You’ve swallowed the myth of the benign ubiquity of limitless consumption hook, line and sinker. You’re in the bubble, as writer John Thackara has said, and your designs paper the walls of that massive translucent blister, blocking whatever it is that exists beyond it.

Simply put: We need to come to terms with the power and impact of our profession. We need to help mindfully bring a sustainable world into existence.

Geological experts believe planet Earth has entered into the Anthropocene—a new epoch defined my humankind’s planetary footprint—with the residuals of our radioactive isotopes, cement, aluminum, and plastic particles, and the excess phosphate and nitrogen from synthetic fertilizers being the unambiguous markers of the end of the previous epoch, not to mention the ongoing mass extinction of species and the expected long-term impacts of climate change. The start of the Anthropocene marks a dramatic shift in the relatively stable geological epoch of the Holocene, which lasted over 11,000 years and played host to humankind’s transition from nomad to farmer to urbanite. It’s been a relative easy ride on this planet for our species since, and we’ve taken great advantage of those conditions. But with the increased drought, famine, disease, blight, social conflict and refugee count, and the projected environmental and human costs of the coming century, that easy ride is charging toward a breakdown.

TODAY’S REALITY IS NOT TOMORROW’S

So, what do I mean when I say we’ll have some explaining to do? The late founder and CEO of Interface, Ray Anderson, was in the habit of calling himself a soon-to-be criminal in front of audiences around the globe. As the leader of the largest carpet company in the world, he declared that someday soon people like him would be imprisoned for the ecological havoc they’ve wrought on a daily basis simply by doing business as we know it. Accordingly, Anderson made a “mid-course correction” in his career, and guided Interface toward a much more sustainable operation.

In The Nature of Design, author David Orr equates the rationalizations that Southern slaveholders engaged in before the Civil War with the way in which we shrug our shoulders when we talk about the unfortunate necessity of relying on fossil fuels to run our economy. “Both practices inflate wealth of some by robbing others,” Orr writes. “Both systems work only so long as something is underpriced: the devalued lives and labor of a slave or fossil fuels priced below their replacement value. Both require that some costs be ignored: those to human beings stripped of choice, dignity and freedom, or the cost of environmental externalities, which cast a long shadow on the prospects of our descendants.”

Societal norms have enabled such behaviors, and reflecting and amplifying societal norms is a graphic designer’s stock in trade. I don’t mean to paint with an overly broad stroke, and I have a good sense of how many graphic designers are working to support cultural institutions, NGOs, nonprofits and social enterprises that are creating alternatives to overconsumptive behaviors. But if we can use the plural pronoun for an entire country that voted into office a president who only received 26% of eligible votes (What were we thinking? and other such laments), surely you can forgive me for applying the same plural pronoun in a case where significantly more than one in four graphic designers fit the description I’m applying.

So, let’s acknowledge we are good at what we do. Then admit what we do at a deeper level … generally speaking … bolsters myths that tear away at the fabric of our life-supporting ecosystems. Some of the professional skills we bring to bear on this world as visual communicators grease the skids of denial for those who swim in our provocatively luxurious grids and ligatures. We’re reinforcing an outmoded belief system that has transformed from a survival instinct to a suicidal tendency in a few short hundred years.

In a world where the unintended consequences of our actions as consumers are rarely easy to comprehend, graphic design has succeeded in creating fore and aft blinders: We can’t see what’s happened before our glorious widgets land in our shopping cart, nor can we see what happens after they take flight from our garbage bins. We only embrace the narrative that we need them, until we don’t need them anymore, because we need something else even more. That’s the backbeat rhythm of our daily lives.

Let’s turn a corner. Like Thackara, I believe, “If we can design our way into difficulty, we can design our way out.” And like Thackara, I believe we need a less-stuff-more-people kind of planet. So how do we get there?

HEARD TEN THOUSAND WHISPERIN’ AND NOBODY LISTENIN’

In many respects, we’ve come a long way since Tibor Kalman declared that “consumption is a treatable disease.” By any metric, graphic designers have more options to apply their skills to something other than promoting unsustainable consumption today than we ever did in the 1990s. Anyone my age can tell you that the change has been significant—thrilling even. Yet the ailment, grossly undertreated in light of its lethal potential continues to ravage the body. You might think it’s because advocates for a sustainable future are whispering too much. That we need to shout more; that we need to get in everybody’s face and ask them: “Don’t you see what’s going on ”

Yet shouting repels as often as it attracts. Whispers, on the other hand, are seductive. You could argue, in fact, that the status quo of overconsumption is less perpetuated by shouts than by whispers (barring that unfortunate breed of loud-mouthed advertising): whisper after whisper after whisper, until those whispers are all we understand of sound. And because they’re so ubiquitous we don’t comprehend anything else we hear as sound at all. One kind of whisper—the kind we’ve grown up with that assures us happiness flows from our wallets—turns all competing whispers into white noise. It’s a matter of one pattern overpowering the other. If we consider a reversal of this historic pattern ascendancy as our challenge, we are surely making headway. The chorus is building.

We also have t
o ask ourselves whether or not we’re whispering the right tune. Cultural historian and theologian Thomas Berry identifies storytelling as the crux of the matter. “We are in trouble just now because … we are in between stories,” Berry explains, noting that “the Old Story”—the cultural concept that the planet would provide us with an endless bounty to allow for a neverending churn of natural resources into rapidly obsolete goods—sustained us for a long time. “It shaped our emotional attitudes, provided us with life purpose, energized action. It consecrated suffering, integrated knowledge, guided education. We awoke in the morning and knew where we were. We could answer the questions of our children … but now it is no longer functioning properly, and we have not yet learned the New Story.”

Berry believes the new story is having difficulty emerging because the elements of the old story continue to carry forward as if they were cold air clinging to a cloak that’s been in the winter night too long. We’re attempting to construct a new narrative through the elements of the old story. And the elements of that old story have so much resonance as what has always been that there’s scant hope for them to define what could be. The shroud of the old story is heavy with perceptions of human experience that resonate more with yesterday than with tomorrow.

One way of thinking about this shift in perception is to consider the metaphor of ecological succession. On the way to listing the “ten commandments of the redwood clan” in Janine Benyus’ book Biomimicry, she explains the natural progression of plant species in hostile conditions, and describes the behaviors of type I, type II and type III species (for the sake of simplicity—weeds, shrubs, and trees, respectively). Benyus emphasizes that while type I species heal scars in the earth caused by events such as wildfires, earthquakes and human disruption, their pioneering tendencies include rapid growth, lack of complexity, and seed production at the expense of intricate root systems and energy optimization. Meanwhile, type III species—members of the redwood clan—grow much slower and thus take time to develop. But as they mature, they exhibit behaviors that “create conditions conducive to (more) life.” In other words, while type I species extract nutrients from the soil on their way to somewhere else, type III species nurture the soil they live in. They not only exist in place; they nurture the place in which they live. Benyus argues that, like type III species, we have to learn to be “self-renewing right where we are.” And, in case you were wondering, the increased incidence of type III species in an ecosystem doesn’t preclude the presence of type I or type II species; it’s a matter of balance, diversity, cohabitation and interdependence.

One element of our new story, then, celebrates a restorative and regenerative posture toward the natural world that is qualitatively different than the posture of our past. When we were a pioneering species—when nature took more children than it spared; when we were as much food as we were the chef; when it took much of our ingenuity simply to shelter ourselves from the elements—we had every reason to stand against nature, swinging and digging with our increasingly sophisticated tools. Yet that kind of behavior—a primordial habit of remarkable persistence—no longer suits our situation. Our swinging and digging now devastates ecosystems in ways we could never have imagined even 100 years ago. A dependable behavior of survival has morphed into an uncontrollable behavior of self-destruction, devastating the planet’s ability to create conditions that have been so conducive to our own prosperity.

“The question of the century,” as Edward O. Wilson has put it, is this: “How best can we shift to a culture of permanence, both for ourselves and for the biosphere that sustains us?” Not permanence of inanimate objects, but of biological life. Here’s a start: Visualize it. Not in our heads, in our work. If it’s a hard rain that’s gonna fall, then let’s follow Bob Dylan’s lead, “and tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it.”

CLOSER THAN THE MOON

In their book Holonomics, authors Simon Robinson and Maria Moreas Robinson describe a passage from Galileo’s writing on the inconsistent shading of the moon. His newly invented telescope provided more insight into the nature of these inconsistencies. After a period of reflection, Galileo came to the realization that the moon was covered with “cavities and prominences,” not unlike Earth. “The discovery of the mountains on the Moon was, in fact … a new organizing idea, whereby Galileo was eventually able to give meaning to what he was perceiving,” the Robinsons write. “Once Galileo had described the Moon accurately, the mountains were there for everyone else to then see.” It’s this notion of a new organizing idea—or paradigm—that is so urgently needed in the world today.

First, as designers we have to take stock of what we do, and how we operate. We need to ask ourselves if the potential unintended consequences of our work are truly something we can live with. Doing work for the greater good is not a net-zero game, by its very definition; we can make a living now in design without wreaking overconsumption havoc. We can choose our clients not simply based on how much money can be made, but on how promoting more of what they’re selling contributes to or detracts from a healthy global environment and a robust social equity. We can read a company’s CSR before choosing to work with them. We can imagine—or better yet, research—the life-cycle impacts of their offerings. We can learn about their labor practices, and whether or not they take responsibility for their products’ “end-of-life.”

And then we can turn the message outward. Shaking up the old to make room for the new has taken a lot of forms lately, and graphic designers are contributing to this shift by amplifying narratives of well-being over wealth; of collaboration over competition; of mindfulness over materialism. If people can be convinced of realities on a place as distant as the moon, it should be a snap for graphic designers to convince people that there’s a way of existing day-to-day on this planet that makes human life in the future more possible, rather than less. And why not? Are we truly willing to be so pessimistic to succumb to a worldview that accepts the human footprint as an inherently destructive one? William McDonough challenged us to ask why the human footprint can’t be a positive one. That’s simple enough—and aspirational enough—to make sense to anyone with a mind uncluttered by yesterday’s assumptions.

In order for nascent paradigms to take hold in a culture, individuals need to begin to see differently. As some of our most common idioms attest, seeing matters: seeing is believing; a picture is worth a thousand words; perception is reality, etc. And graphic designers help people see. That’s not grandiose. A simple pair of glasses can do the same thing. Like the magnified section on a pair of bifocals, then, we can provide a refinement to our society’s vision to help us see a broader spectrum of reality.

Transition Design, articulated by Terry Irwin, Cameron Tonkinwise and Gideon Kossof at Carnegie Mellon University, proposes that “more compelling future-oriented visions are needed to inform and inspire projects in the present, and … tools and methods of design can aid in the development of these visions.” This follows Victor Margolin’s idea that design’s most important contribution to the world is in the art of demonstrating new ideas in action. If designers are willing to convincingly bring visions of more sustainable realities into existence, more
people will embrace their inherent possibilities. As John Ehrenfeld observes in his book Flourishing, “Possibility may be the most powerful word in our language because it enables humans to visualize and strive for a future that is neither available in the present nor may have existed in the past.”

When John F. Kennedy said that myth is the greatest enemy of truth, he takes care to call out the myths of our forebears: a prefabricated set of interpretations. In fact, humans need myth to make sense of the world—to find hope in the future; to imagine redemption; and to shape aspiration. In Restoring the Soul of the World, David Fideler writes, “Myth structures behavior and influences everyone on the collective level, but myth, and the reframing of myth, is something that emerges from the creative encounter with reality.” He challenges us “to cultivate those myths that embody deeper levels of beauty, value and awareness,” and notes that by doing so, human life is enriched. It’s time for the creative minds of today to shape the messages that reframe a world of our highest potentials—to visualize possibility.

THE FUTURE NOW

The Earth Charter challenges all of us to work toward a world “founded on respect for nature, universal human rights, economic justice and a culture of peace.” Are any of these objectionable? Are any of these not worth working toward, or explicitly supporting through the normative power of graphic design? The document ends by stating, “Let ours be a time remembered for the awakening of a new reverence for life, the firm resolve to achieve sustainability, the quickening of the struggle for justice and peace, and the joyful celebration of life.” If, in explaining graphic design’s contributions to tomorrow’s successes, we can use our youthful mistakes as a springboard for our own awakening, then that is a story worth telling in itself.

So, we’ll have some explaining to do. But we’ll also have one hell of a comeback story to tell. I’d like to think our story will sound something like Alex McKay’s in The World We Made by Jonathon Porritt. McKay was born in 2000, and he tells his story—and the story of humankind’s transition to a regenerative way of living—from the vantage point of Dec. 31, 2050. Porritt, co-founder of Forum for the Future, imagines a future that, while not without its horrors through a challenging transition, is something we can all embrace. That future is both familiar to and manifestly radical from today’s reality, and Porritt convincingly explains how present technologies in energy efficiency and production, water management, material consumption, housing, transportation, policy and, yes, even cyber-security, help create a path through the ecological and social upheavals that we’re facing today.

For those graphic designers who are Alex’s age, I’ll suggest this: Don’t listen to your elders so much. Sure, they know their grids and ligatures, but never believe that your desire to make a living and do right by the world is naive. Instead, ask them what they’ve been doing while the world’s been coming apart at the seams. Feel free to tell them to go suck an egg if the situation warrants. Or simply smile and go along your merry, regenerative way. Just make sure that the next generation doesn’t have the same opportunity to reproach you for similar reasons.

We’ve created a new epoch on this planet. A dubious accomplishment as it stands today. Yet that’s exactly where we stand today. The only option we have now is to make it great—ecologically regenerative, socially equitable and prosperous for all. As graphic designers we can revel in the irony that much of our future work, while as ephemeral as always, will encourage notions of permanence—of longevity built on adaptability, resilience, collaboration and respect for diversity in all matters—that the vessels of our present design work will scarcely comprehend. Since we’ve started the Anthropocene, let’s make damn sure it’s an epic epoch

Scott Boylston is the graduate coordinator and co-author of the Design for Sustainability program at SCAD. He is principal of BD+C, and speaks internationally on sustainable design topics.

Are you still watching?

Yes. Yes we are, Netflix.

Rams

Director: Gary Hustwit (the modern maestro of design cinema that you’re going to see a lot of on this list)

“A documentary portrait of Dieter Rams, one of the most influential designers alive, and a rumination on consumerism, sustainability and the future of design.” (IMDB)

Marina Abramovic: The Artist is Present

Directors: Matthew Akers, Jeff Dupre“A documentary that follows the Serbian performance artist as she prepares for a retrospective of her work at The Museum of Modern Art in New York.” (IMDB)

Abstract: The Art of Design (Netflix series)

Directors: Various“A look beyond blueprints and computers into the art and science of design, showcasing great designers from every discipline whose work shapes our world.” (IMDB)

Helvetica

Director: Gary Hustwit “A documentary about typography, graphic design and global visual culture.” (IMDB)

Eames: The Architect and the Painter

Directors: Jason Cohn, Bill Jersey“The husband-and-wife team of Charles and Ray Eames were America’s most influential and important industrial designers. … ‘Eames: The Architect and The Painter’ draws from a treasure trove of archival material, as well as new interviews with friends, colleagues and experts to capture the personal story of Charles and Ray while placing them firmly in the context of their fascinating times.” (IMDB)

Exit Through the Gift Shop

Director: Banksy“Following the style of some of the world’s most prolific street artists, an amateur filmmaker makes a foray into the art world.” (IMDB) Editor’s Note: It gets a bit more complicated than that, in the most brilliant of ways.

Pressing On: The Letterpress Film

Directors: Erin Beckloff, Andrew P. Quinn“Why has letterpress printing survived? Irreplaceable knowledge of the historic craft is in danger of being lost as its caretakers age. Fascinating personalities intermix with wood, metal and type as young printers save a traditional process in ‘Pressing On,’ a feature-length documentary exploring the remarkable community keeping letterpress alive.” (IMDB)

Art & Copy

Director: Doug Pray“‘Art & Copy’ is a powerful film about advertising and inspiration. It reveals the work and wisdom of some of the most influential advertising creatives of our time, people who’ve profoundly impacted our culture.” (Amazon)

Page One: Inside The New York Times

Director: Andrew Rossi“Unprecedented access to The New York Times newsroom yields a complex view of the transformation of a media landscape fraught with both peril and opportunity.” (IMDB)

Tim’s Vermeer

Director: Teller“Inventor Tim Jenison seeks to understand the painting techniques used by Dutch Master Johannes Vermeer.” (IMDB) Editor’s Note: The description may sound dry, but this film is utterly fascinating.

Graphic Means: A History of Graphic Design Production

Director: Briar Levit“Up until just over 30 years ago, when the desktop computer debuted, the whole design production process would have been done primarily by hand, and with the aide of analog machines. The design and print industries used a variety of ways to get type and image onto film, plates and finally to the printed page. ‘Graphic Means’ is a journey through this transformative Mad Men-era of pre-digital design production to the advent of the desktop
computer. It explores the methods, tools and evolving social roles that gave rise to the graphic design industry as we know it today.” (IMDB)

Objectified

Director: Gary Hustwit “A feature-length documentary about our complex relationship with manufactured objects and, by extension, the people who design them.” (IMDB)

Manufactured Landscapes

Director: Jennifer Baichwal“Photographer Edward Burtynsky travels the world observing changes in landscapes due to industrial work and manufacturing.” (IMDB)

Bill Cunningham: New York

Director: Richard Press“A profile of the noted and extraordinarily cheerful veteran New York City fashion photographer.” (IMDB)

Urbanized

Director: Gary Hustwit “A documentary about the design of cities, which looks at the issues and strategies behind urban design and features some of the world’s foremost architects, planners, policymakers, builders and thinkers.” (IMDB)

Indie Game: The Movie

Directors: Lisanne Pajot, James Swirsky“A documentary that follows the journeys of indie game developers as they create games and release those works, and themselves, to the world.” (IMDB)

Time Zero: The Last Year of Polaroid Film

Director: Grant Hamilton“Various photographers and employees of Polaroid recount their experiences with the company’s instant film in its final year of production.” (IMDB)

Drew: The Man Behind the Poster

Director: Erik P. Sharkey”A feature-length documentary highlighting the career of poster artist Drew Struzan, whose most popular works include the ‘Indiana Jones,’ ‘Harry Potter,’ ‘Back to the Future’ and ‘Star Wars’ movie posters. Telling the tale through exclusive interviews with George Lucas, Harrison Ford, Michael J. Fox, Frank Darabont, Guillermo del Toro, Steven Spielberg and many other filmmakers, artists and critics, the journey spans Drew’s early career in commercial and album cover art through his recent retirement as one of the most recognizable and influential pop culture artists of all time.” (Amazon)

Jean-Michel Basquiat: The Radiant Child

Director: Tamra Davis“Director Tamra Davis pays homage to her friend in this definitive documentary but also delves into Basquiat as an iconoclast. His dense, bebop-influenced neo-expressionist work emerged while minimalist conceptual art was the fad; as a successful black artist, he was constantly confronted by racism and misconceptions. Much can be gleaned from insider interviews and archival footage, but it is Basquiat’s own words and work that powerfully convey the mystique and allure of both the artist and the man.” (IMDB)

Perhaps the best lens through which to view Ira Glass … is the world of Harry Potter.

But forget the eponymous wizard himself. When The New York Times asked Glass who his favorite character from children’s literature is, he cited Hermione Granger.

“Harry Potter to me is a bore. His talent arrives as a gift; he’s chosen. Who can identify with that? But Hermione—she’s working harder than anyone, she’s half outsider, right? Half Muggle. She shouldn’t be there at all.”

“Like most people,” Glass has joked, he had no interest in working in radio. At school, he studied semiotics—“an incredibly pretentious literary theory”—which he credits with teaching him to structure a story. In 1978, after his freshman year, Glass started poking around for media jobs. Someone at a rock station pointed him to a new outlet in Washington DC: National Public Radio. Glass walked in and offered to work for free over the summer. He then got hired as a production assistant, and wound up staying at NPR for 17 years … to the dismay of his parents who, unlike Granger’s, were not exactly proud of their son’s chosen path.

“They completely opposed everything that I was doing working in public broadcasting,” Glass said in his 2012 commencement address to Goucher College. “Somehow, my parents are the only Jews in America who do not listen to public radio. They thought I should be a doctor. I was a pre-med student, among other things. … I hope this is not embarrassing to say this: I had my own national radio show; I had been on David Letterman; [and] there had been a New York Times Magazine article about me before they stopped suggesting medical school was still an option.”

Glass’ success on air was anything but instantaneous. In fact, he wasn’t on air in his early years at NPR; he worked as a tape-cutter, and has said he wasn’t competent writing and structuring stories until he was almost 30. He had to work. “I’ve never met anyone who took longer, and I’ve met hundreds of people who work in radio,” he told Transom in 2004. “I was a very corny wannabe humorist. I’m not exactly sure what kept me going. Part of it, I’m sure, was that I didn’t have any other prospects. I certainly didn’t have any other skills.”

He also lacked the voice—the classic baritone of the medium.

“I bring all of this up to say that if you’re someone who wants to make radio stories (or do any kind of creative work), you’re probably going to have a period when things might not come too easily. For some people, that’s just a year. For others, like me, it’s eight years. You might feel completely alone and lost during this period—God knows I did—and I hope it’s reassuring in some small way to hear that what you’re going through is completely normal. Most people go through it. And there are things you can do during this period of mediocrity that will get you to the next step, that will drive you toward skill and competence.”

Glass had a goal: to document regular people’s lives. It would take him a month to do a story that would take another reporter three days, but still, he worked. And in his work, he began to bring new means of storytelling to the fore, such as when he broke down a dense federal spending bill for listeners via singing pie chart—every second of audio translated to $5 billion. He experimented with sound and imagination. With each story he turned in, he made sure it had a moment that would personally amuse him, an original observation that no reporter could replicate. He made sure that every story featured an interaction, an authentic human emotional connection.

And then, he won a MacArthur grant in 1995 to start a new show called “Your Radio Playhouse,” which would eventually become “This American Life.”

Program directors were thrown by the program at first: Some episodes were somber and serious. Others were light and airy. Though it’s synonymous with NPR today, Glass and his crew framed the show as the opposite of the “proper,” “stuffy” NPR model at the time— “We talked about it as a public radio show for people who didn’t necessarily like public radio,” he told The New York Times.

As the Peabody they won soon enough—not to mention an audience in the millions—proved, their brand of innovative journalism and storytelling was a revelation to listeners. And through it all, including the spinoff hit “Serial,” Glass has continued to show us not what radio is, but what it could be.

It’s a statement Glass would likely hate. But all told, Hermione would be proud.

Editor’s Note: The episode is worth a listen for this moment alone:

But we’re not. And in fact, we’re anything but.

At PRINT, we’ve been working behind the scenes with our friends at Poster House to apply design to the pandemic where it has hit the hardest: New York. As of April 10, the city has more COVID-19 cases than any country worldwide.

“Posters are tools of mass public communication, so in a time like this when there is an urgent need for correct information and community messaging, posters are the perfect tool,” says Poster House museum director Julia Knight.

Knight saw the prospect for an initiative after reading Steven Heller’s Daily Heller post about his childhood polio quarantine—and the MoMA posters that could be found within his school and at various touchpoints throughout the country.

“His piece on posters during the polio epidemic squared a problem I was reading about: government messaging released at the onset was too obtuse and hard to understand. Designers could solve that problem as long as we could get their work seen publicly. Steve’s piece was a reminder that posters have always played a role in public health emergencies, from STIs in wartime to the Spanish Flu epidemic to HIV activism and awareness.”

PRINT and Poster House reached out to a medley of designers, and starting today, their #CombatCovid work can be found in and around New York City.

First up is a double-sided billboard at the base of the Lincoln Tunnel, which serves 1.43 million weekly impressions. It will feature the following billboards by Gemma O’Brien, Debbie Millman, Edel Rodriguez and Klaas Verplancke (click to expand).

Gemma O’Brien

Debbie Millman

Edel Rodriguez

Klaas Verplancke

Thanks to Times Square Arts, billboards in New York’s Manhattan hub will feature pieces by Maira Kalman, Edel Rodriguez, Zipeng Zhu and Paula Scher.

Ian Douglas/Times Square Arts

LinkNYC—a network of approximately 1,800 kiosks throughout New York City that feature high-definition video screens, free Wi-Fi and phone calls, alongside free mobile charging—will be featuring COVID-19 posters by a variety of designers.

The first wave kicks off this week and next with work by designers including Emily Oberman, Matt Dorfman, Ola Baldych and Klaas Verplancke.

Emily Oberman

Emily Oberman

Matt Dorfman

Ola Baldych

Klaas Verplancke

As Steven Heller notes, there is an irony to the campaign, as posters are predominantly meant to be viewed out-of-doors. But these serve a dual audience: Those inside and those outside.

“The poster concepts fall into two categories: the ‘stand strong against the enemy’ variety and the ‘cautionary’ variety,” Heller says. “The former is aspirational while the latter is informational. Both have relevance in this war. These posters exist to show the most unique solidarity the world has known, perhaps ever.”

More posters are currently in the works, and we’ll be sharing them here and throughout New York City soon.

Stay tuned to PRINT for the latest, and please—take care of yourself. #CombatCovid. Together, we will beat this—and, with hope, these images will become design ephemera rooted firmly in the past.

This is the second part of Dieline’s series “The History of Plastic.” You can find the first chapter on the invention of throwaway living here.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could point our fingers at one single entity and blame them for our world’s current single-use plastic catastrophe? At the very least, it could help us direct our feelings of frustration over the prevalence of disposable silverware, straws getting pulled out of turtles, and wasteful, plastic-lined wrappers getting tossed in the trash. But at the very best, it might help us learn exactly how we got into this disastrous mess. We could understand where we went wrong, how we can possibly make it better, and how we can avoid this kind of mistake again.

It sounds almost too convenient to have only one responsible party for our society’s current reliance on single-use plastic. And we don’t want to point fingers, but it’s hard to ignore one massively influential company in particular which isn’t merely a player in the game of big biz plastic waste—it may have inspired the normalization and accepted use of single-use plastic.

Corporations Vs. Individuals

If the emphasis on sustainable, green, eco-friendly, and/or environmentally responsible living has seemed to become more prominent, then you’re right. Consumers are willing to pay more for these options, and it’s not merely aspirational; consumers do pay more for these options, with a CPG growth of 50% in sustainability-marketed products.

But, dear consumer, buy all the silverware made from avocado pits you want and have a reusable straw handy in your back pocket-it still won’t make a dent. The real culprit when it comes to plastic isn’t you or I, it’s big business, with the worst offenders producing millions of tons of it each year. A real difference would have to come from the corporations and brands who are creating much of the plastic waste in the first place. After all, the first part of “reduce, reuse, recycle” is to simply reducethe use of anything that could generate trash in the first place. It’s not just a catchy saying; instead, reusing and recycling come in second and third in the list of priorities for minimizing trash.

As Greenpeace’s Abigail Aguilar told National Geographic, “We believe that the ones producing and promoting the use of single-use plastics have a major role in the whole problem.”

The Rise of Fast Food and That Glam Single-Use Plastic Life

In 1948, Maurice and Richard McDonald opened a hamburger restaurant in San Bernardino, California. Ray Kroc was the supplier for milkshake appliances at McDonald’s, and he ended up convincing the McDonald brothers to opt for a franchise model with their little joint. Ray would go on to become the first franchisee in 1952 and eventually bought them out in 1961.

Around the time McDonald’s came onto the scene, Throwaway Living was all the rage (if you haven’t seen our piece on that 1950s trend, learn all about it here). Getting to throw out dishes and silverware when finished with dinner was seen as the glamorous thing to do. Washing dishes? Please, that was a thing of the ‘40s! With disposable items like plates and silverware, people could reclaim those precious hours spent washing and drying their Fiestaware.

No, McDonald’s didn’t invent plastic or the concept of fast food (we have White Castle to thank for our cuisine on-the-go), but over time it has had the most financial success in the United States of any other quick service restaurant. By 1963, they opened their 500th location in Toledo, Ohio, all of them owned by separate franchisees but all run with strictest of standardized operations to ensure a consistent level of quality en masse. Today McDonald’s exists in over 100 countries with more than 37,000 locations. This kind of success is the epitome of the American dream, and, in turn, creates a certain amount of influence as other restaurants follow similar business models hoping for the same. The company is very much viewed as “a symbol of American business as well as a major owner of American real estate.”

Seinfeld’s Jason Alexander singing about the joys of the McDLT and its Styrofoam packaging.

According to CBC News, “The growth—both by McDonald’s and the fast-food industry it has led—has transformed how people eat. In 1970, Americans were having about a quarter of their meals away from home, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture. By 2012, that percentage had grown to 43 percent.” They report similar results from nearly every other country where McDonal
d’s has appeared, citing that 10 percent of meals in India are eaten away from home compared to only 3 percent in 2003.

While it wasn’t the first fast-food chain, it still managed to pave the way in the industry. And since McDonald’s overlapped with the time of Throwaway Living, it changed our world in a significant way. The fast-food concept at McDonald’s wasn’t all about cutting costs—it was about maximizing profit in this stripped-down experience of eating out. They offered counter service (thus eliminating the need for servers) and had burgers cooked in advance, just needing to keep them warm with heat lamps. Ray Kroc hated the wasted space between cans or glass bottles of milk, so in the 1960s, he urged the dairy industry to instead use plastic-lined cartons. This packaging quickly became the norm nationwide, offering a lighter, cheaper, and more space-saving option while shipping (you likely opened up a small milk carton yourself back in the day at school).

And, of course, there were things like single-use plastic silverware, which eliminated the need for someone to wash those pesky dishes.

Furthermore, plastic cup lids and straws made it even more convenient for customers to grab something to go, while plastic-wrapped plastic toys in Happy Meals added an additional draw for families with children. Styrofoam containers were light—meaning they cost less to ship—and allowed guests to take their food to go with ease. This incredibly profitable fast-food chain embraced a toss-it mentality, and that undoubtedly set an example for similar restaurants as well.

Power to the People

It may feel like we cannot change what enormous businesses like this do. McDonald’s surpassed $100 billion in Systemwide sales in 2019 alone, so what does it matter what the fans or the haters say?

As it turns out, it matters quite a lot.

In the 1980s, consumers began criticizing McDonald’s for its use of those styrofoam clamshell containers, the lightweight, super-terrible-for-the-planet ones. While the restaurant chain’s packaging was made from paper when they first started, they likely switched to Styrofoam for its cost-effectiveness. By the end of the decade, Styrofoam bans were beginning to go into place, even though McDonald’s environmental affairs department insisted Styrofoam “aerates the soil.”

But more than anything, consumers wanted nothing to do with it. More and more people were choosing the products based on their effect on the environment, and they wanted Styrofoam to go. McDonald’s donated money to environmental groups as a Hail Mary to keep using their packaging of choice, but they were eventually advised to change their operations.

Rather than make sweeping changes at first, though, they took small steps—none of which seemed to satisfy the public.

First, they replaced the CFCs in the container (the blowing agent used during production) because there were reports it contributed to ozone depletion. When grassroots environmental groups launched a “Ronald McToxic Campaign”—which did everything from picketing at the restaurants to mailing clamshells back to the headquarters—McDonald’s introduced incinerators. Well, Ronald McToxic quickly became “McPuff.” By 1989, even schoolchildren were done with the brand, founding a group called “Kids Against Polystyrene.”

In 1990, McDonald’s finally agreed to stop using foam for their burger packaging. They continued to use it in other items, like cups, for years to come, and it wasn’t until 2018 that they made the promise to eliminate it from their global markets.

More recently, consumers were urging companies to make a switch as simple as ditching plastic straws for paper ones. McDonald’s in the UK—where 1.8 million straws get used daily—followed suit. The brand states that, globally, about 22% of their packaging remains in plastic for function or food safety, but they aim to reduce plastic where they can (although they give no further specifics on their Packaging and Recycling page).

With these examples, it feels like McDonald’s is only playing along because they’re caught in a situation where they can no longer afford the bad publicity. After the decision to get rid of Styrofoam in 1990, for instance, the company’s general counsel Shelby Yastrow even explained, “The clamshell package was the symbol that everyone glommed onto. We knew if we got rid of that thing, it would be like pulling forty thorns from our paw.”

But why isn’t McDonald’s trying to lead the way with innovation rather than grudgingly head in the direction of more environme
ntally sound packaging? The likes of Amy’s Kitchen, Super Duper, and Burgerville all manage to have compostable packaging—why not the Golden Arches?

At the very least, McDonald’s is working to evolve. Aside from their goal to have sustainable packaging by 2025, they’ve taken part in exciting, eco-conscious endeavors. In 2018 they teamed up with Starbucks for the NextGen Cup Challenge, fronting millions of dollars so that entrepreneurs could step up and try to find a new, compostable coffee cup. And last year, they hosted a 10-day experiment in Berlin where they opened a plastic-free restaurant, utilizing waffle cups for ketchup containers, wooden cutlery instead of single-use plastic ones, and burger wrappers made of grass (!) instead of paper.

“A lot goes into environmentally sustainable packaging,” they confessed on their site. “We need to comply with upcoming regulations (a ban on many single-use plastic items in the European Union is taking effect in 2021). We want our customers to know we care about the environment. But above all, we want to create a more innovative, better McDonald’s.”

They looked at this pop-up as an opportunity to open a discussion about what worked and what didn’t (turns out the waffle cups will require a different shape for their chicken nuggets, and half of the guests felt the wood utensils tasted like, well, wood). This temporary Berlin restaurant indicates they know they need to make progress with how they handle single-use plastic, although they’ve said they aren’t rolling out any significant changes yet.

But imagine if they did. Imagine if the fire Ray Kroc had to save a buck in 1956 were the same fire McDonald’s executives had today to eliminate plastic waste from their restaurants worldwide. No one is saying it would be easy, and no one claims it will be cheap, but it would undoubtedly influence every other restaurant out there to do the same.

If McDonald’s hadn’t latched onto single-use plastic, surely some other restaurant would have. They’re not the sole reason single-use plastics have invaded our oceans and overtaken our landfills, but they are at least somewhat complicit and have a power (both financial and influential) to do something positive about it.

McDonald’s changed the world with its approach to dining and embrace of Throwaway Living—will it step up and change it again?

This article from our Partners at Dieline

This is the second part of Dieline’s series: The History of Plastic. You can find the first chapter on the invention of throwaway living here.

By Theresa Christine Johnson

Theresa entered the world of design through The Dieline. With a background in writing and journalism, she has a passion for discovery and cultivating human connections. Her work for The Dieline is a constant journey to deeply understand all facets of the design process and to investigate what makes designers tick. Theresa’s writing has taken her snorkeling in between the tectonic plates in Iceland, horseback riding through a rural Brazilian town, and riding an octopus art car at Burning Man with Susan Sarandon as part of a funeral procession for Timothy Leary (long story). When not writing, she is planning her next trip or taking too many pictures of her cat.

It’s easy to feel as if what we do as designers, artists, writers and creators is futile, somehow means less, or is frivolous in the face of international trauma at such scale.

A new initiative is here to remind us, though, that what we do matters—a great, monumental, deal.

In an unprecedented effort, a collective of arts grantmakers and foundations have banded together to create Artist Relief—currently a $10 million fund offering rapid $5,000 grants to individual creatives facing dire financial situations because of COVID-19. The fund will remain open through the next six months, and practicing artists living in any U.S. state, territory and Tribal Nation who are at least 21 are eligible. There are no discipline restrictions, but artists must be able to receive taxable income in the U.S. (regardless of citizenship status), and must have lived and worked in the U.S. over the past two years. Those in the most need will receive priority, and applications are officially open now.

A joint project of the Academy of American Poets, Artadia, Creative Capital, Foundation for Contemporary Arts, MAP Fund, National YoungArts Foundation and United States Artists, Artist Relief consists of $5 million in seed money from The Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, matched by $5 million in initial contributions from a variety of foundations across the country. (The organizers will be continuing to fundraise beyond the launch, too.)

“In hard times like these, we turn to the arts to illuminate and help us make meaning and find connection,” poet Elizabeth Alexander, president of The Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, said in a release. “Without immediate intervention, individual artists and the arts ecosystem of which they are the foundation could sustain irreparable damage.”

Anyone in the position of doing so can also make a tax deductible donation to support the fund. Artist Relief is also curating a COVID-19 Impact Survey for Artists and Creative Workers, developed by Americans for the Arts, to study artists’ needs now and in the future.

“The economic security of most artists is already so precarious, and this crisis could have an irrevocable toll on our community,” said Nick Cave, artist and Artadia board member. “There needs to be immediate intervention, and I’m proud that so many nonprofits, philanthropists and partners are chipping in to do what they can.”

For more, visit the new Artist Relief website.

Here are 11 such.

Keep an eye out here for more, and hang in there. We’re right there beside you.

Free Adobe Talent / Adobe PortfolioTo help the creative economy in the face of the Coronavirus, Adobe is making all job postings free to companies and recruiters on Adobe Talent through May 31. For job seekers, the company is making Adobe Portfolio free for 60 days.

Adobe Live Tripling ContentNeed something to watch as you wait the virus out? Adobe Live on Behance is tripling its output for creatives stuck at home. Think daily Illustrator challenges, audio and video masterclasses, design-offs, and much, much more.

A Free Trip to the Adobe SummitThe physical Adobe Summit originally planned for March 31 was canceled due to COVID-19, so the digital experience conference went digital. Now, in exchange for your email address, you can watch all the keynotes and more than 100 breakouts free.

Free CC

Teacher? Student? If you’re either, you can get free access to Adobe Creative Cloud through May. Details vary by institution, but if you need it, there’s a good chance you can get it.

COVID-19 is not stopping AIGA’s Worldstudio Scholarships, which have given more than $1 million to underrepresented and economically disadvantaged students since 1995. Apply now through April 15.

six free courses on stress management and mindfulness. The company is also allowing essential services to post jobs on LinkedIn for free, and expanding their Recruiting for Good program, which puts LinkedIn’s recruiters to work on the front lines for different organizations.

Struggling with suddenly managing a school curriculum by yourself? MoMA has put together an excellent set of resources for teaching art at home, including free online courses and the MoMA learning website.

Illustrator Wendy Macnaughton has also been hosting a #DrawTogether series for kids every school day from 1–1:30 p.m. ET. The series currently runs on Macnaughton’s Instagram, though a permanent home is in the works.

Obstructions,” an inventive—and free—community-based workshop. Its goals are threefold:

“To help you make lots of stuff, which you can leave as is, or use as seeds of ideas for other projects. It will help you build a big body of work that is entirely yours to do anything you want.

“To help you to develop new ideas about how to make things that you normally would never try. It forces you to make strange and unpredictable decisions about what you are going to make, and how you are going to make it.

“To provide a catalyst for creative acts, which is especially relevant right now, when many of us are feeling isolated, unmotivated, and distracted by the state of the world. The workshop will provide something specific and tangible you can focus on.”

Let’s pay a virtual visit to the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum.

Though the museum is temporarily closed due to COVID-19, that won’t stop you from getting a private tour of some of its key holdings via digital docent and the “Museum Moment of Zen” series on Instagram.

We have indeed been finding Zen in the series, and suspect you might, as well. Here is a sampling of the featured holdings. Stop by the Cooper Hewitt Instagram for much more going forward.

“Leopards lounge and explore in this wallpaper produced by Philip Graf Wallpapers Inc. in the late ’60s. ⁣Likely intended for a young girl’s room, these glamorous magenta felines would also have been right at home on the walls of a powder room.” (Sidewall, A Leopard of My Very Own, 1967–68; made by Philip Graf Wallpapers Inc. New York, USA. Screenprinted on paper; gift of Philip Graf.)

“‘Kinetics’ is a mural design from the Kaleidoscope collection of murals and supergraphics by James Seeman. ⁣The designer may have been inspired by a technology that was beginning to enter people’s lives in a big way: the barcode. ⁣The Kaleidoscope collection was produced in 1971 for the 1972 year and won many awards.” (Kinetics Mural Miniature, designed by James Seeman Studios Inc. Screenprinted; gift of Vincent Scalia.)

“This fantastical glass birdcage was designed by Charles Lin Tissot in 1959. He collaborated with the legendary glassworkers of Venice to create a souvenir drawing on ancient artistic techniques, applied with modern twists. ⁣Not only is this birdcage beautiful, but it is also fully functional. The doors slide open, and inside the cage are perches, swings and a feeding bowl that would be perfect for a chirpy pet.” (Verdino Birdcage, ca. 1959; designed by Charles Lin Tissot (American, 1904–1994); Italy; glass, brass, plexiglass. Gift of Göran F. Holmquist.)

“These staircase models were crafted in 19th-century France by a guild of traveling craftsmen called the compagnons. On their journeys to mastery, apprentice craftsmen completed a ‘tour de France,’ studying under craftsmen in cities like Tours, Marseille and Lyon. Only when the apprentice proved his competence in both drawing and workmanship was he allowed to advance to the next studio. ⁣A tour took between four to seven years. It concluded when an apprentice produced a masterwork—traditionally, a staircase model. ⁣The Compagnonnage system dates to the Middle Ages. About 12,000 compagnons are active in France today, and women are now included among their ranks.” (Dome-shaped Architectural Staircase Model, mid-19th century; walnut and beechwood. Gift of Eugene V. and Clare E. Thaw.)

“This sitting stool is decorated with real rainbow sprinkles. Designer Fernando Mastrangelo coated the colorful confections with resin to make them long-lasting.” (Stool, Rainbow Sprinkle Drum, 2017; designed by Fernando Mastrangelo (American, b. 1978). Gift of Fernando Mastrangelo.)

“This pattern comes from Casa Hermosa, a collection of wall coverings and coordinated fabrics that debuted in 1995. The collection is the brainchild of artist Nancy Glenn-Nieto and designer Marcie Vesel Bronkar. ⁣Nieto, an American-born painter of Mexican descent, drew on her heritage and her studies of pre-Columbian art to inspire the patterns and colors in the collection.” (Sample Book, Casa Hermosa (Beautiful Home), 1995; made by Imperial Wallcoverings Inc. Machine-printed on paper. Gift of Imperial Wallcoverings Inc.)

“This design, titled ‘Four Seasons,’ was created by Luba Krejci in 1964. She sought to revitalize the tradition of lace-making in her native Czechoslovakia with her artistic expressions.⁣” (Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Herbert Paskow.)

“Let’s time travel through the photographs of Thérèse Bonney, an American journalist who documented the architecture and design of Paris from 1925 to 1935. ⁣⁣Featuring everything from charming trompe l’ceil storefronts to stylish furnishings, more than 4,000 of Bonney’s photographs are digitized and available to browse from the Smithsonian Libraries.” (Photograph, storefront of printer and bookbinder Brodard & Taupin, ca. 1924. Photographed by Thérèse Bonney. Collection of Smithsonian Institution Libraries.)

If you were anywhere near a college campus, public park or jam band concert last 4/20—the annual stoner holiday celebrated on April 20—the pungent skunk-like smell was probably so pervasive that you could be forgiven for thinking that marijuana was completely legal in the United States. Despite former Attorney General Jeff Sessions’ counteroffensive reminiscent of 1980s saber rattling, the rules around cannabis are quickly changing and the rest of the U.S. is moving on. Weed is now legal in 11 states, and is approved for medical use in 33 others. While many legislative kinks have yet to be worked out, the industry is already a booming business. In just a few years recreational marijuana use has moved from a verboten pastime to a market force.

State-sanctioned use of the drug has long been under significant fire from cultural conservatives, but the vast majority of voters in legalized states don’t seem to mind the new odors—or the significant tax streams they generate (to date, Colorado has collected $1.26 billion). The American public at large has even developed a certain fascination with the new “green economy,” as evidenced by a slew of reality TV shows with punny titles like “High Profits,” “Weed Country” and “Bong Appetite.” Horticultural innovation and enterprise have produced new varieties of weed and new ways to get high, including concentrated hash oil “pollens,” and even cannabis-infused sexual lubricants.

As the legal status of the drug has changed, so has its status in culture, and with that, its demographic reach. So it comes as only natural that the look of the industry would have to change, too.

The cannabis market sector has been in dire need of a fresh identity to reflect its now-legal status, grown-up patrons and novel consumption methods. The cultural tropes that graphic designers have drawn on to rebrand weed are diverse. The visual reworking of America’s favorite flowering botanical began with identities for entrepreneurial growers, chocolatiers and merchants. They wanted to make it clear that they were operating businesses of good repute. The key was to trash counterculture tropes of years past; the dispensaries of Denver don’t have the Bob Marley tapestries, black-light posters and grungy furniture you’d find in an Amsterdam coffee shop. Instead, they opt for the sterility of a high-end juice bar. The patchouli and hemp aesthetic of High Times magazine has been eschewed for clean functionality. Colorado’s dispensaries are literally that: points for dispensing a product. You’re not allowed to use, or even open, items in-store.

When marijuana first hit the market in Colorado, graphics ran the gamut—from illustrations clearly developed in MS Paint, to slick corporate presentations—but all erred on the side of respectability, with names like Medically Correct LLC, EdiPure and Synergy Wellness. Many emphasized the health-giving properties of cannabis, and not just because a “medical” stamp is good, gentle introductory marketing. Therapeutic use is the language the legalization movement has learned to speak over the past 25 years, as recreational use took a back seat. The medical associations linger even as the demographic allowed to consume has moved from only those stricken by the gravest illnesses to any adult over 21.

The new stores and products seem to be looking for legitimacy in the visual field because they were having so much trouble finding it elsewhere. Banks often still refuse to deal with dispensaries, meaning that simple transactions, like employee payroll, need to be conducted with wads of $100 bills. With such lingering negative perceptions of businesses involved in the marijuana trade, it’s no wonder that communication design is seen as an important venue by which to set the record straight.

As the business has rapidly developed, some notable designs have emerged. Plus Gum, a THC gum, is one of these. It shakes off the outsider imagery of the pot world—dollar signs, camo and smiley faces—in favor of clean, novel packaging. The lollipop swirl and slab-serifed type manage to channel the old-timey soda-fountain-cum-pharmacy of Main Street America, simultaneously placing the product in a world that is fun, but also safe. Phillip Fivel Nessen, the designer behind Plus Gum, agrees that today’s new wave of marijuana branding logically imitated the health space. However, now, “a good portion of people that are fighting for legality aren’t saying it’s a medicine. It’s just something to enjoy.”

Nessen’s answer to that evolution: sweets, a perfect metaphor. Positioning products in this sphere removed them from the angel/devil dichotomy that has plagued cannabis culture for years, with some claiming it as a cure-all for modernity’s stressors (think Peter Tosh), and others blaming it for nearly all of society’s ills (think Nancy Reagan). Sweets are neither; they are simply pleasurable, slightly naughty, but acceptable and ubiquitous.

However, edibles still had to escape associations with munchies and fatty junk foods. So when developing the gum’s packaging, Nessen needed to embody it as a healthy indulgence. With this sentiment, you see a move toward visuals that channel artisanal goods of days past, like salt water taffy. More THC-filled foods seem to be taking on a winkingly wholesome aesthetic, and in years to come they may even be seen as all-American as apple pie. (Or space cake.)

Visualize the general aesthetic of the physical implements for smoking marijuana, and you get a kitsch pastiche of dragon’s heads, kaleidoscopic colors and steampunk gadget–heavy chic. Again: the branding of yesteryear. New “smoking-lifestyle” retailers represent a move toward a Cannabis 2.0: a sophisticated way of ingesting marijuana that shows a new relationship with the forbidden flora.

Tetra is a curated online shop featuring haute-design pieces “dedicated to elevating the aesthetics of the smoking experience.” Industrial designers produce their own handmade items with styles that range from Vitra-sleek to Noguchi earthy. Tetra co-founder Eviana Hartman notes that the smoking ritual “is something that is very special and worth celebrating,” but that in the past it’s been dragged into “bro culture.” What makes Tetra’s gear
very different from the implements available in headshops of yore is the quality and purity of their designs. “We wanted to create pipes you wouldn’t be ashamed to have out on your coffee table,” says Hartman.

Many of the smoking devices on Tetra’s website look as if they would fit in well at a Japanese tea ceremony, evoking both the rusticity of raku ware and the dynamism of Streamline Moderne. An ashtray by ceramicist Ben Medansky looks like an element from an El Lissitzky collage and draws inspiration from the “radial fins on machinery” the artist spots around his Los Angeles home. A marbled porcelain pipe by Christina Haines resembles one of the walls from Mies van der Rohe’s Barcelona Pavilion rolled up on itself. The elegance of the pipes pulls them away from the predictable and ironic gear of the pothead past and places them in an art historical timeline that goes back to Silk Road nargillas and the ivory pipes of the Dutch Golden Age.

For now, Tetra rests on the common, polite fiction that the pieces in its collection are for a vague and generalized “smoking,” theoretically of tobacco. This is nothing new for those in a paraphernalia industry that has walked the fine line of legality for nearly 50 years. Because the word bong was long associated with drug use, the smoking emporiums in the college town where I grew up had to make sure all of their customers called the devices water pipes. Failure to do so resulted in immediate ejection. Even the makers of rolling papers once had to assert that their products were for hand-rolling tobacco only. Slowly but surely, the smokescreens of the past are blowing away.

So what’s next?

The developing public health conversation around the packaging and sale of cannabis products in recreational-use states is the place where designers have the most opportunity to emerge as leaders.

In 2015, Colorado proposed new rules for the labeling and potency of weed-infused edibles. The tighter regulations came after several cases in which children unwittingly ingested edibles, thinking they were regular sweets. Design guidelines for packaging are in the works, and developing them is an opportunity for creatives of all stripes to collaborate with public health, law enforcement and other civic officials in new and interesting ways.

Streamlined growing and harvesting methods have made it possible for people to get much higher levels of THC into their bloodstreams, but there are few dependable methods for dosing and measuring new marijuana products. There is great potential to utilize basic information design to help new users understand the high different strains deliver. This might take the form of a numerical ranking system, or a multi-colored heat spectrum. Additionally, designers can be deployed to create safe storage mechanisms for cannabis products. In Denver, stores are already required to sell products in a childproof vinyl bag (the locking mechanism, which takes two hands to open, is more powerful than a pill bottle and will probably serve as a deterrent to overly stoned adults, as well). Other storage solutions have been developed by savvy entrepreneurs, many of them women.

Jeanine Moss, a 62-year-old who started smoking to treat post hip replacement pain, developed a line of aroma-control handbags and clutches. Designers and architects are also beginning to create interiors, point-of-sale units and storefronts that allow dispensaries to blend into their neighborhoods.

The issue of how the government would label legal marijuana was not at the forefront of policy makers’ minds as Colorado rapidly rolled out dispensaries in January 2014. However, politicians and designers watched as Washington state—which took a more cautious approach in bringing pot to the market—blundered the logo of their oversight authority (above). The original seal seemed dashed-off: It featured a jagged cannabis leaf in the outline of Washington state. It looked more like a dorm room flag than a new government agency. The regulators, who are lodged within the state’s liquor control board, quickly rescinded the seal and have yet to develop a new one. Learning from Washington’s mistake, Colorado developed a we-mean-business crest to be applied to all marijuana products. It features a shield with an angry eagle and the words “Department of Revenue: Marijuana,�? encircled by “Criminal Enforcement Division.�? It is a concession to the old-school graphics of authority and trust, playing on the same conservatism that keeps U.S. currency so bland, even as the state government moved to rebrand with a perky mark featuring a cartoony mountain top.

In 2015, the Colorado House convened an Edibles Work Group that included elected officials and representatives from child welfare, food safety, law enforcement and marijuana organizations. The collective was tasked with developing a “universal symbol�? that would distinguish, say, “Chewy Ganja Granola Bars�? from garden-variety granola. Conspicuously absent in the group were designers—and it shows. The symbol they ended up with to signify cannabis content reads as “! THC�? lodged in a fire diamond. While this symbol is an improvement on the “Criminal Enforcement�? shield (that it will supplement, not replace, it should be noted), it leaves much to be desired.

On the whole, designers need to actively work to insert themselves into the marijuana conversation, and in so doing prove the very real worth of design in communicating public policy. One hopes that governments will collaborate with designers to develop new, intelligible packaging, perhaps something along the lines of the Nutritional Facts label that other recreational-use states could also adopt. It will take time and money, and the convening of people from disparate fields: design, public health, the community, science. Carrying out testing with users will be iterative and probably not cheap, but the substantial revenue that states are earning from marijuana can work to offset it.

The U.S. at large is having its marijuana moment, and this is a formative, defining time. As the culture of Cheech and Chong’s take on marijuana draws its final hit, designers and other media makers have been—and will continue to be—key in the shifting cultural connotations of cannabis. The challenge now is to prevent the industry from sliding back into the past visually, especially as some policymakers try to turn the clock back legally.

In such movements, though, it’s usually only a matter of time before progress wins out. So while the future may seem
uncertain, it is, undoubtedly, fragrant.

Sam Holleran is a writer, interdisciplinary artist and educator investigating topics in graphic culture and urbanism. He has worked with the Center for Architecture, the Design Trust for Public Space and the Center for Urban Pedagogy in New York City. He is currently at work on a book about visual literacy.

“Passion.”

It’s an overplayed word that we tend to throw around ad infinium in arts profiles, the semantic satiation quickly kicking in to render it meaningless. Our passion for “passion” has admittedly evolved into a literary crutch—but then, every so often, someone like Lawrence Azerrad emerges and redefines the whole thing.

Three things defined Azerrad as a kid: His love of art, his love of music, and his love of Concorde—that supersonic jet of yesteryear.

He first encountered the latter in a 1:72 scale model kit, and was hooked thereafter, though he didn’t have the vocabulary to articulate why yet: design, which he’d discover at California College of the Arts. As he went about collecting as much Concorde memorabilia as he could get his hands on, he switched his major from illustration to graphic design, graduated, and then embarked on that rare career perfectly calibrated between skill and obsession.

His first stop: Warner Bros. Records. He entered the field at the height of the music industry’s heyday in the mid-90s—which meant a half dozen years of transatlantic flights, elaborate photo shoots and production values that seemed without end, until they ended (but not before Azerrad designed the cover of Red Hot Chili Peppers’ blockbuster album Californication, which got his work into the hands of 15 million listeners). Like so many others in the business, in the early 2000s Azerrad woke to find himself laid off—which wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, as he quickly established a solo practice and continued working on the records that were in progress, such as Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

And still, he collected his beloved Concorde memorabilia—and, incredibly, even scored a ride on the jet of legend with his frequent flyer miles, as Debbie Millman and Azerrad discuss in this episode of Design Matters. That flight would plant the seed for his book Supersonic, a pinnacle of the synthesis between skill and obsession—a working methodology that has defined Azerrad’s output, imbuing fresh life into dead words.

Here, in his own words from the introduction to Supersonic, is a glimpse into passion.

“It began with a Concorde model kit. Even disassembled, the swept-back delta wings affixed to the kit frame excited my imagination and motivated me to glue all the pieces together as quickly as possible.

“The final 1:72 scale version of the world’s first commercial supersonic jet awed me and stirred nascent thoughts of becoming a designer someday. Posed dynamically on the kit’s accompanying stand, it was the embodiment of pure speed. And not just any speed, but Mach 2—twice the speed of sound. Everything about the shape of Concorde announced FAST.

“It made a lasting impression that deepened over the years into a lifelong obsession—if not devotion. At present my ever-growing collection of Concorde memorabilia encompasses about seven hundred items, including parting gifts informally called ‘prezzies’ that were handed out to the well-fed and well-lubricated passengers who could splurge on the ticket price, which was $12,000 round-trip in 2003. This was swag before swag was a thing. Model kits, stamps, matchbooks, flasks, luggage tags, lighters, and more were given to passengers, while some items were proudly stolen by those besotted with the Concorde lifestyle, such as menus designed by Christian Lacroix (b. 1951) and Jean Boggio (b. 1963), dinnerware by Raymond Loewy (1893–1986), and napkin rings by Sir Terence Conran (b. 1931)—all from the twenty-seven years in which Concorde graced the skies.

“Until its last flight in 2003, the silhouette of Concorde streaking through the clouds inspired a rare sense of wonder. Children cheered when they spotted it in the sky. Devotees who lacked the fortune to actually zip through the stratosphere inside its slender fuselage penned poems to honor its soaring beauty. …

“2019 marks fifty years since Concorde’s first successful test flight on March 2 in 1969. It also marks fifteen years since I experienced my one and only Concorde flight from JFK to Heathrow. What had been earmarked for the ‘someday’ column became an imperative when, just shy of my thirtieth birthday, Concorde announced service would be ending. A native Californian, the 9 a.m. departure out of JFK felt like 6 a.m. to me, and then—in a flash—it was over. In between, I made memories I will never forget: the rapid tranquility of check-in, the quiet elegance of the Concorde room, and the object of fascination, parked and waiting on the tarmac.

“I had a window seat. I remember being surprised at how tiny the windows were. But at takeoff was when the difference could really be felt. Every time Concorde departed from JFK, it had to perform a noise abatement maneuver—a sharp roll, turn, then spring out of the turn, almost instantly. I felt like I was in a fighter jet—with a hundred other people. Breaking the sound barrier was barely noticeable. I heard it because I was watching and listening for it—the sound was like someone popped a balloon in the next room. There was lunch, champagne, and flowers in the lavatory. I got the sense that the crew members took great care, and were the best in the field. Even though the fastest flight I had been on was over too quickly, the end of the flight was the real beginning of the journey that led to this book.

“As a designer, I’m particularly interested in Concorde’s design legacy, from the marvel of its aerodynamic perfection and the refinements of its interior cabin experience to the various and sundry objects designed to support and promote its brand. Some of the most interesting items in my collection are the brochures from the 1970s that contextualize the supersonic jet culture, lifestyle, and fashion. The photography, the graphic language, and the typography are all calibrated to excite an aura of speed, glamour, and progress.

“Concorde was the promise of tomorrow delivered in the here and now. It’s time we fully appreciate the lasting significance of our first—and so far sole—supersonic commercial airliner.”

Excerpted from Supersonic by Lawrence Azerrad, © 2018 Prestel Verlag.

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By Guest Contributor Emily Cohen

To state the obvious, the next few months will be difficult and will involve some tough decisions, smart thinking, thoughtful planning and a good degree of reasonable risk. But what we shouldn’t do is panic.

I’ve developed and curated a list of six strategies that will help you avoid making poor decisions that sacrifice your business as well as our industry’s long-term sustainability and health in exchange for short-term gains.

2. Financial forecasting. Hopefully, you’ve followed the rule of thumb where you saved at least three to six months of overhead for times like these. You always should keep track of your financial picture at all moments, both during the good and bad times. One tool in your financial arsenal is a financial forecasting document that includes your firm’s expected receivables organized monthly and by the date you expect to receive payments (not the invoice date). This document should include both contracted income as well as any income from your new business pipeline that has a high probability of closing/winning. It should also list and compare these monthly projected receivables against your firm’s fixed monthly overhead. The findings from this forecasting tool will help your firm make difficult decisions—based on sound and objective financial criteria rather than more emotionally or reactively based ones—a little bit easier. You can download a wonderful example of this in a case study by Sheri L Koetting, chief strategist and co-founder of MSLK, in an excerpt from my book, Brutally Honesty. (Click here for the PDF.)

3. Client Checkups. Check-in with your current contracted clients. Inquire if their plans have changed, and, if so, how? Ask them how you can help them during this time. Perhaps you can offer them a discounted fee if they pay the full fee in advance or, if you can afford it, a more rolled-out and incremental payment plan? Try to be flexible so that you can retain the work you already have. That said, don’t simply lower your fee without getting something in return just to pay the bills.

4. Debt. Don’t take on additional debt. I’m a big proponent of debt-free business and lifestyle, beyond having a mortgage and perhaps a line of credit. Especially during difficult economic climates, avoid borrowing from friends and family, your personal or business credit card, or taking on a business loan.

5. Staffing. The first mistake many firm owners make is to stop taking a salary themselves, rather than making smarter—albeit harder—staffing changes that really need to be made. The first step is to continue to take a salary, but make sure it’s reasonable and realistic and that your salary is not lower than the next highest-paid employee. While I understand it’s hard to let go of people on your team, you have to protect your business’s future. Taking on debt or unprofitable work so that you can pay people you can’t afford hurts your firm in the long run and increases your debt. Instead, consider reducing everyone’s salaries and hours as a stop-gap measure. Ultimately, you may have to lay people off. In thinking of who to lay off, don’t focus on those that make the most money but rather on those that contribute the least to your company overall or can easily be replaced with freelance talent. Don’t do this by email but in-person, with kindness and empathy, so you can preserve relationships. Whenever you lay off or fire an employee, you should also consult an employment lawyer to cover all your bases.

6. Marketing and New Business. Don’t use your limited funds to design or produce a unique marketing brochure or premium or any other “cool” handout. Beautifully designed “stuff” will not get you new business or build relationships and are not worth the financial investment. Instead, and most importantly, use your downtime to focus on reconnecting with everyone you know and say hello/check-in. Don’t try to get new business, just reconnect and remind them you are here now and in the future. This is a habit that you should embrace and continue to do during any cycle of your business. You should also reach out and introduce yourself to new people. My book includes additional insights into how and why you need to always focus on relationship-building. While it’s rare to see immediate results, it’s a long-term investment in the future health of your business. Don’t ever stop building new relationships. Continue to stay in touch with everyone you know and, during these trying times, double your efforts in this area since you will most likely have a bit more time on your hands.

7. Business Vision. Keep on track with your firm’s vision, positioning and plans you have for your business. Don’t sacrifice who you want to be, who you want to work for, how you price, or what your terms are simply to pay the bills or keep your staff busy. Once you sacrifice who you are, it will take years to get back on track. Similarly, don’t take on work that will be unprofitable just to pay the bills and don’t lower your pricing and other standards you may have. Here’s why—

9. Right after 9/11, prices plummeted and as an industry, we didn’t push back. We lowered our prices in fear and under pressure and our industry has never recovered. If we do this again, we will have continued to lower our standards and hurt ourselves as well as the industry overall.

10. Your existing client relationships would be unlikely to bounce back to the terms and pricing you had before. Once you’ve sacrificed your values, it’s hard to regain control.

11. Your capabilities deck will eventually be dominated by work that may be outside the type of work you want to do and are great at (i.e., your positioning). If you do work outside of your positioning or do work that you don’t want to show, you’ll end up only featuring work from the past in your capability deck and website, thus risking showing outdated and irrelevant images once business picks back up.

If you do choose to take on clients simply to pay the bills, try to be smart about how much you are willing to sacrifice. You may lower your fees, but perhaps you also deliver fewer concepts/revisions or you don’t sacrifice your terms (e.g., usage rights and the right to use the work for self-promotion). If you do take some projects that are outside your positioning, make sure they represent no more than 25% of your workload. And, when you do take on these clients, you should be ready and willing to fire them when the economy recovers, which it will.

Ultimately, you should continue to be kind and generous to your clients, staff and vendors, but not to the level that
will have a long-term impact on your business and in situations where you are making all the sacrifices without any gains.

The following are two great resources developed by my colleagues that are also extremely helpful. We all have different voices and may share similar strategies (with a few differences, of course) so, take a look—

1. The Coronavirus and Your Firm by David C. Baker

2. Three Steps for Surviving and Thriving in a Crisis by Blair Enns, Win Without Pitching

A brutally honest consultant, Emily Cohen has been honored to consult and work with many leading design firms across the country. Through these experiences, she has developed, tested and curated key business insights and strategies that have helped firms become more effective, profitable and fun to work at. Emily conducts strategic business planning retreats and provides confidential, best-practice insights and advice on staff-, client- and process-management strategies. She loves sharing her expertise through speaking engagements, guest posts, her courses on LinkedIn Learning/Lynda.com and Skillshare, her industry activism and, most recently, in her new business book for creatives, Brutally Honest: No-bullshit business strategies to evolve your creative business.

There are iconic works of graphic design—for instance, the identity for The Man With the Golden Arm, the IBM logo, Ray Gun magazine, to name just a few—that have become inseparably linked in our minds with the famous designers who created them (Saul Bass, Paul Rand, and David Carson, respectively). But what about the equally important designers whose names have somehow become separated from their work—when seeing the design doesn’t conjure up a name, and vice versa? I’m talking about instances when someone instantly recognizes a book cover, poster or magazine layout and says something like, “Oh that’s always been one of my favorite pieces!” But then a puzzled look creeps in, and the next thing out of the person’s mouth is, “Remind me who did that again?”

Following is an admittedly subjective list of six unsung heroes of graphic design, and why their names and work deserve to be recalled together. An important distinction to note is that we are not talking about unknown designers—these are all renowned individuals. Think professors and art directors whose names appear in design history books, many of whom are recipients of prestigious awards from AIGA, the Type Directors Club and other esteemed organizations. (The particular reader will notice that one name here, Andrew Loomis, was not, technically speaking, a graphic designer but an illustrator—just remember, subjective list.)

These are people who, for inexplicable reasons, don’t always have the brand recognition they’ve earned. Consider this an attempt to repair a half-dozen broken links in the collective visual memory.

Ladislav Sutnar

Sutnar, a Czech designer (1897–1976), was one of the first practitioners of what is now called information design. His clear and logical systems for distributing information across a page or spread make his work relevant still today, particularly in information architecture for the web. Sutnar was well known in his native Europe as a Modernist designer, a professor of design and later the director at Prague’s State School of Graphic Arts, and the recipient of multiple design awards, including more than a dozen Grand Prix and gold medals at Paris’ 1937 International Exhibition.

After emigrating to the U.S. in 1939, Sutnar developed graphic systems that organized complicated sets of numbers and other minute data into streamlined tables and grids for American businesses such as F.W. Dodge’s Sweet’s Catalog Service (where he served as art director from 1941–1960) and Bell Telephone System. He created beautifully structured grid and tab systems and used common punctuation marks, such as commas, colons and exclamation points as major design elements. English was not his first language, yet Sutnar produced work with such clarity of structure and organization that it effortlessly communicated the appropriate messages to his American clients.

His real unsung moment occurred when Bell Telephone first introduced area codes in 1947 to keep up with the demand for new numbers brought on by rapid growth of the telephone network. It was Sutnar who came up with the strategy of enclosing the area code within parentheses. This seems relatively minor as far as innovations go, until you consider its larger implications. By corralling off the area code into its own pen framed by parentheses, a simple graphic device helped render the number plus area code less visually daunting and seemingly hard to remember. The end result was that users accepted that phone numbers were getting nearly 50% longer, without putting up much resistance.

Sutnar’s thoughtful solution to this particular design problem reflects a philosophy seen throughout his work: Create an effective and well-structured graphic system, and even the most challenging material can become pleasing to the eye.

Barney Bubbles

Elvis Costello, Ian Dury and the Blockheads, Nick Lowe, Squeeze, The Damned, Billy Bragg—British graphic designer Bubbles (1942–1983), born Colin Fulcher, designed album covers for all of them, as well as for many other punk/New Wave bands during the ’70s and early ’80s. Bubbles also created the video for “Ghost Town” by ska band The Specials, which became somewhat of an anthem for a dark era of social upheaval and joblessness in London. His album covers are perfectly in keeping with the DIY punk tradition of gig posters, handbills and fanzines made with cut-out newspaper lettering (or transfer/press-on lettering or typewriters), Magic Markers, cellophane tape and a photocopier—but they elevate the process by several notches. Bubbles’ work displayed a definite intellectual rigor underneath his reliance on screaming colors, seemingly random overlapping geometric shapes and purposefully crude compositions, as well as a playfulness that was not always appreciated by the suits in charge. For example, his deliberately off-centered cover of Elvis Costello’s album This Year’s Model, which appeared to accidentally crop off the left side of the artwork, allowing a printer’s color registry bar to show at right, could be found for only a short while before Columbia “corrected” it. Apparently, the captains of the music industry didn’t trust the record-buying public to get the joke. Or maybe they didn’t get it themselves. In any event, Bubbles’ design style was a perfect match for Elvis Costello, both musically as well as visually—Costello with his ironic Buddy Holly glasses and haircut coupled with a ferocious if not particularly musical singing voice, Bubbles with his sly and subversive design approach that references both the brattiness of punk and still manages to give a hat tip to classic album sleeve designers like Alex Steinweiss.

Encompassing a variety of graphic styles, some even drawing on the original banded grid of Penguin paperback covers (devised by the company’s production manager Edward Young in 1935), Bubbles’ body of work holds together because the underlying design thinking displays a consistent wit and willingness to turn things inside out in search of something entirely unexpected.

He is an unsung hero for the way he drew upon the vernacular to create a striking and original graphic language for a new type
of music, a language that completely nailed its subject matter and is still widely copied today.

Cipe Pineles

An Austrian-born graphic designer, Pineles (1908–1991) achieved several notable firsts in the industry: The first woman ever to hold the title of art director at a major magazine. The first woman admitted to the New York Art Directors Club (1948) and, in 1975, the first woman inducted into its Hall of Fame.

Pineles came to the U.S. as a teenager in 1923 and later became an illustrator, design teacher and groundbreaking art director who had no female peers during the golden era of midcentury American magazine design. After meeting Conde Nast at a party and impressing him with her work, in 1932 she was hired as an assistant to Conde Nast publications’ art director, M. F. Agha, who immediately recognized and encouraged her talent. By 1942 Pineles was promoted to art director of Glamour.

Pineles went on to shape the design vision of Seventeen and Charm in the years to come, always bringing a keen level of thought to her work. She hired fine artists like Ben Shahn and Andy Warhol to illustrate stories, and was an accomplished illustrator herself. Pineles had an innate understanding of how to create magazines that would speak to what women needed to know and really wanted to read about.

Seventeen, for instance, was the first title to acknowledge that teenage girls did not want to act and dress like their mothers but rather represented a unique demographic with its own previously untapped set of considerations for designers and writers to address. Later on, at Charm, Pineles created a magazine for women stepping away from traditional roles as wives and mothers to become part of the workforce after WWII. Charm spoke to the new list of concerns facing these women, such as how to balance a job with a home life, how to dress for work, how to navigate in office situations largely dominated by men—areas where professional women still turn to magazines for advice.

Throughout her life, Pineles was surrounded by successful male art directors who often overshadowed her—Agha, her first husband William Golden (design director of CBS), and her second husband Will Burtin (art director of Fortune magazine and a father of corporate identity design). Even today, far more people can call to mind the work done by her contemporary Alexey Brodovitch at Harper’s Bazaar than anything Pineles created, but she was fully his equal as someone who made valuable, unique and lasting contributions to her profession.

Paul Bacon

Bacon (1923–2015) was an American graphic designer and jazz musician whose album covers for Blue Note Records and Riverside Records are familiar to jazz fans everywhere. But it was his “Big Book Look” that created the memorable visual identities that defined some of the late 20th century’s bestselling books. This innovative, direct and indelible cover design approach graced titles like Catch-22 by Joseph Heller (1961), One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey (1962), Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin (1967), Portnoy’s Complaint by Philip Roth (1969) and Ragtime by E.L. Doctorow (1974). Although these are just a fraction of Bacon’s own estimated lifetime tally of roughly 6,500 covers, they make up a good representative sample: a minimal use of (or lack of) imagery paired with large, often hand-drawn letters limited to the title and author’s name. Bacon’s covers had the immediate appeal and impact of posters, and stood out in the crowded environment of shelves packed with titles whose covers relied on more expected design tropes.

Bacon first devised this strategy in 1956 when Simon & Schuster asked him to design the cover for Compulsion by Meyer Levin, the true story of how two young men, Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb, killed a boy as an experiment in committing the perfect crime. Wishing to avoid anything that would seem lurid or prurient, Bacon came up with a crudely scrawled title and author name, with two tiny red figures seeming to run toward the horizon, and the Big Book Look was born.

Other notable designers of the era such as Paul Rand and Alvin Lustig had a strong Modernist feel to their work that is absent from Bacon’s. As a designer of mass-market commercial covers meant to appeal to a wide audience (as opposed to small press volumes of criticism or literature expected to draw a much tinier readership), Bacon was faced with a different set of design parameters and reacted accordingly, creating intelligent covers that came to be seen as the definitive versions no matter how many different editions of the books were published over the years. They may seem a bit dated now, but they represented a major shift in the way book cover designers approached their work.

Andrew Loomis

Loomis (1892–1959) was an American illustrator and art instructor. He worked as a commercial artist for the advertising industry and magazines during the 1940s and 1950s, but he also wrote a half-dozen memorable books on how to draw, all of which use a warm, accessible tone to convey staggering amounts of information on perspective, lighting, volumes, anatomy and composition. His realistic style was reminiscent of Norman Rockwell’s, and like Rockwell he illustrated for the Saturday Evening Post, but Loomis’ most lasting impact was as a teacher.

In his books, he was able to break down the components of drawing from life into easy-to-understand units, with many examples on a single page preceded by a clear written explanation of, say, the difference between the proportions of the head of a toddler and that of a teenager
. He demonstrated the mathematical relationships found within the ideal human figure and then showed how to foreshorten or rotate that figure in space, what happens as a person ages, what the effects of different emotions are upon the features. None of this is specific to him—certainly all good instructors cover the same ground—but his drawings have an assured confidence that makes them iconic examples of how to draw a head, lips, a woman stretching her limbs, a 90-year-old man. His work breathes with life and vitality. Part of his lasting charm lies in the little off -the-cuff handwritten remarks found scattered among the illustrations on the pages of his books, advice like “Eyelids work like the lips!” or indicating the single word “pad” over and over on an illustration of a hand wherever the fat deposits fall on the palm and fingertips. Thinking of a palm as a padded thing is instantly understandable and helpful to a student struggling to keep her versions of hands from looking like gruesome claws.

When Loomis’ titles went out of print, there was a tremendous demand for them on the used-book market, with some fetching hundreds of dollars in any condition. Fortunately they were recently reissued as facsimile editions by Titan Books, and several complete PDF versions are available on the internet. Loomis’ pages are packed with information but never look cluttered or daunting—a challenge universal to both artistic instructors and graphic designers at large.

Ruth Ansel

Ansel (born 1938) was just 24 years old when she became the co-art director, with Bea Feitler, of Harper’s Bazaar in the ’60s. In the ’70s she was art director of The New York Times Magazine, and in the ’80s she was art director of Vanity Fair. At each magazine, it was the first time a woman held the top title in the art department. Over the years she collaborated with Richard Avedon, Hiro, Peter Beard and Bill King to produce some of the most memorable magazine photography ever published. Ansel was responsible for some of Bazaar’s most daring issues: For the April 1965 issue, guest-edited by Richard Avedon, Jean Shrimpton appears on the cover in a shocking-pink paper cutout space helmet accented with a lenticular winking eye. Inside are layouts featuring Shrimpton in a real NASA spacesuit over a comic book galactic background, a baby-faced Paul McCartney in the spacesuit (minus helmet) and a full-spread photo of Shrimpton dancing, printed in silver metallic ink. That issue also represents the first time any American fashion magazine dared to include a picture of a black model, running an image of Donyale Luna wearing a Galanos gown. The whole thing was a visual triumph, a celebration of youth culture and music and space exploration, perfectly capturing the aura of adventure and possibility saturating America in the ’60s. Its design remains as inviting now as it did nearly 50 years ago.

Today’s magazine designers continue to look to Ansel for inspiration. To give just one example, her February 1965 Bazaar cover featuring Steve McQueen’s grinning face being caressed by an elegant female arm piled with jeweled bangles (the first time a man appeared on a women’s magazine cover!) has been widely imitated. She perfectly translated into 2D form everything that was happening in the culture at large, and laid it out in splendid detail for her readers. Ansel occupies a place in the elite strata of art directors who created their own worlds on the page, dazzling the rest of us with the scope of their imaginations.

… Neither have we. But thanks to Overtone and Set Snail’s passion project Your Typeface, now all of our faces can be typefaces—and it’s actually a pretty cool tool.

Your Typeface merges variable font tech with face recognition (the Beyond Reality Face SDK framework, specifically) to give life to eight master typefaces that are transformed on three axes. In other words: Make expressions on your webcam while using the program, and the type responds and adapts. Once you’re happy with your design, the system uses fontTools to automatically output a .TTF that you can then download and use however you’d like for free.

“Designing in the variable font structure reveals some new possibilities and it also reintroduces a certain amount of randomness that we’ve all been longing for in the world of digital type design,” Overtone senior type designer Rasmus Lund Mathisen says. “When designing Your Typeface … the characteristic detail/quirkiness added a lot of surprising output through the steps between masters. The typeface got a life of its own, and we really embraced that.”

Give the tool a try here.

Concept, design and type design: OvertoneCreative developer: Set SnailFace tracking software: BRFv5 Face Tracking by Tastenkunst

Atieh Sohrabi illustrates the small pockets of life she sees around her in Brooklyn: cats. Trees. Flowers.

Women. But her observations of the city’s idiosyncrasies don’t come from a lifetime as a native New Yorker; they come from Tehran. In 2015, Sohrabi moved to the U.S. with her daughter and husband, and her illustrations have since largely consisted of vividly colored figures based on the people she sees on the streets, with direct connections to her Persian heritage. Interspersed throughout her body of work are quirky animations of her subjects, bringing to life features like snowfall, blossoms tumbling through the breeze or a bird giving someone a peck on the neck.

An industrial design graduate of the Azad University of Art and Architecture in Tehran, today she works for a variety of clients, including Pardis for Children in New York City, which hosts classes about the Persian culture and language. Her work has also appeared in a number of Persian children’s books and magazines, was featured in the Society of Illustrators Annual Exhibition and Illustrators 59, and landed her on Women Who Draw, an open directory of over 2,700 professional artists that aims to increase the visibility of illustrators who are women, women of color and LBTQ+. This space will feature an illustrator every month from the site—and here Sohrabi kicks off the series by discussing her work, her heritage and what it’s like to be a female illustrator in an industry dominated by men.

Tell us a bit about your childhood in Iran.My father was a professor of a university, and at the same time he had a small studio at home, and he created many things—many industrial things. My mother was working with many fabrics and made handcrafted patchworks. That is very traditional in our culture. So, the whole atmosphere that I grew up in was very creative.

Was it before or after you came to the U.S. that you decided to become an illustrator?After high school, I decided to study art, and then applied for art university. I was accepted in industrial design, but working with my husband [who is an illustrator and painter] encouraged me to work as an illustrator. And as I did that, I got many projects in this field. When we came to the U.S., it was a really hard time. Like many artists around the world, it was my dream to come to New York. I didn’t have any connections, so I just began working on some personal projects. … I found the Society of Illustrators here and showed my latest project to them to get some feedback. They ended up accepting it for their exhibition and also published it in their book.

How do you see the world in regard to your illustrations? How does it inspire you?It’s different things. For me, it was a big challenge when I came here. Because when you come from another country to a new—absolutely new—atmosphere, you should search for something to make you connect with it. Everything is new for you, and nobody knows you. It just made me focus more on myself and find some connections within me and my traditional cultural history in Iran. And here, my new life, and new experiences, and finding more people that are from different cultures—all of them mixing together makes me create something in the middle.

You draw a lot of female figures in particular.I have some passions about fashion design and making patterns. But all of my illustrations are about patterns on women, like a model, to make them very unique, and their form. After a while, I feel that there is me, as a woman, [having] something to show and tell about myself that is real. And living here, in my experience, just makes me face the many real women living around me, and they are amazing. It makes me feel like, OK, if you want to create some real images from real people who live here, around you, what do you do? I began to work. It was really making me very excited and encouraged me to work more and more, because I get many great ideas and support from the other women around me, and absolutely the Women Who Draw.

You mentioned you use a lot of patterns. How do you regard color and pattern?I think I’m affected by my Persian art. We have a lot of ornamental shapes that are mixed in our visual culture—in carpets, or paintings, or even in our architectural materials. [I also use] specific colors in my illustrations that are absolutely connected to my culture.

Do you have a dream client or project you’d like to work on someday?Of course. Like many artists, yeah. I have different things that I want to do. I’d love to work with The New Yorker or The New York Times. The other passion that I have is working on my personal projects … [such as my] paintings.

I wanted to ask you more about Women Who Draw, and their mission.Like in my country and the other countries, I think it’s obvious that women are in the minority. [Especially at major legacy media outlets.] The opportunities are more available to men. When I found this platform—actually, [co-founder] Julia Rothman introduced me to it—I found it really fantastic because you can find more people, and especially transgender people, in different cultures. It’s a really amazing place for [women] who want to have more opportunities. I get a lot of support from them, and I also want to support this community.

Absolutely. What advice would you give your fellow female illustrators?Based on my experience, the most important thing is to have rituals, [like] being active on social media. I came here, and I didn’t know anybody. I just made myself have a daily schedule with some personal projects. And the other thing—it may sound funny—is having plants. I think because you should do some ritual things for them also. These are really the things that help me continue on.

This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

You’re too old. Too young. You’re a bartender or an accountant, and you have no right dabbling in the arts. You don’t look the part. You tried and failed once, and should throw in the towel, save face.

These are the types of things we tell ourselves when we’re pondering a new creative practice—and these might even be the types of things that are told to us. (Which is worse is anyone’s guess.)

Thankfully, Lynda Barry would throw another negative onto the pile: You’re probably wrong.

Barry is perhaps an unlikely creative hero … but ultimately perhaps the ideal one. She had a nightmarish childhood and found solace in comics, especially Family Circus and the pristine parents portrayed on the page. She learned to draw by copying R. Crumb’s work when she was 12, the same year she dropped acid for the first time. She worked as a janitor as a teen and pondered becoming a flight attendant. Her mother hated when she read—and hated even more that Barry wanted to go to college.

What is remarkable is not only that Barry survived, but that she would distill all of that pain into her brilliant comic documenting two children navigating the world, Ernie Pook’s Comeek. It was new—both in its outlook and its presentation, from its artistic style to the fact that it often featured more text than image. It was utterly, wholly Barry’s own. As The Chicago Tribune wrote in 1984, “You might call it the new wave of cartooning, or you might call it a radical wedding of sound, thought and drawing, but the creator calls it a Comeek. Some entries are just weird, others are sad, and still others are bitingly funny. All are presented in Barry’s ridiculously hard-edged scrawl.”

Of the work, author Rob Rodi declared, “If there’s a last word on childhood, it belongs to Lynda Barry.”

The strip appeared for three vibrant decades, before the mass death of American newspapers ended its run. And then, in 2008, the same year as her final Ernie Pook, she released What It Is, an illustrated exploration of creativity, and suddenly she was a guru of the field. Picture This and Syllabus followed, and November brings Making Comics, the latest bout of her insights into the creative process. Whether they’re a product of her years on the page or things she learned long ago, this episode of Design Matters explores.

As she details at the beginning of Making Comics, “There was a time when drawing and writing were not separated for you. In fact, our ability to write could only come from our willingness and inclination to draw. In the beginning of our writing and reading lives, we drew the letters of our name. The motions each requires hadn’t become automatic yet. There was a lot of variability of shape, order and orientation. The letters were characters, and when certain characters got together a certain order, they spelled your name.”

Barry advertises her live writing and art workshops as being ideal for non-writers and non-artists; ideal for those who have given up on the crafts—and yet still feel that nagging within themselves.

Over the years, she has quietly rescued some of her students’ discarded and abandoned drawings from the recycling bin. And in Making Comics, she immortalizes many of them. One wonders how a former student might react upon discovering such a piece in Barry’s book. Perhaps that is her ultimate lesson to them—and the rest of us.

Typography by Louise Fili, using the Montecatini face

In 2000, a conference at the St. Bride Library in London featured only female speakers. It was organized by Dr. Shelley Gruendler, typographer, educator and founder of Type Camp, and Dr. Caroline Archer, typographer, educator and director of The Typographic Hub. “We did it in reaction to a recent printing conference that only had male speakers,” Gruendler says. Though there was some backlash, most of the feedback was positive. “Perhaps it’s time for another one,” Gruendler adds. “I wonder what the feedback would be today? Would people think it necessary?”

Good question.

Typography, like many other fields—technology, advertising, politics—has been historically dominated by men. While gender parity has not yet been met, things are changing for the better. Type designer Nina Stössinger agrees: “Over the past two years, the question of appropriate representation and visibility of women in the workforce, in higher positions, in teaching and lecturing roles, has really come to the forefront.” This set the scene for women to speak up, and the formation of Alphabettes, a lively network showcasing the work, commentary and research of women in type; Typequality, a platform for discovering and sharing typefaces designed by women; and other forums. As a result, women are now presenting in greater numbers at typographic events around the world.

Yet you’re reading a “women in type” feature. The journey is not over.

The 10 female designers showcased in this article are trailblazers. And they are just the beginning. Get to know them, and then go out and discover others.

ALICE SAVOIE

Type designer, researcherNotable typefaces: Capucine, Fred Fredburger

Thanks to a teacher who passed on his love of letters, Lyon, France–based Alice Savoie found design at an early age. “There were very few institutions where you could learn typeface design back in the early 2000s,” recalls Savoie. Lucky for her, she picked up the basics of calligraphy and type design in a two-year course at École Estienne in Paris. “This experience comforted me,” Savoie says, “in the idea that typeface design might be the right path.” And like many designers, she then moved to the United Kingdom to study in the master’s type design program at the University of Reading. After graduating in 2006, Savoie joined Monotype, setting her career off to a solid start.

These days, she divides her time between teaching, research, writing and design. As for the world of education, “Art schools provide such a stimulating environment,” she says. “I learn so much from engaging with students and their own work. We also develop a number of research projects within the schools where I teach and we involve students wherever possible, so the two activities overlap rather naturally.”

When she’s not at school, she can be found in the studio, balancing type design and writing. “It is actually very pleasant to go back and forth between the two, as both processes involve different ways of thinking and working. Writing requires complete focus and silence. I am a rather slow writer and I can only do it for rather short spans of time (never longer than three to four hours)—whereas I can design type for hours on end while listening to music.”

Capucine

Capucine

Fred Fredburger

Fred Fredburger

VERONIKA BURIAN

Type designerNotable typefaces: Abril, Adelle, Bree

Who would have thought that a Prague-born product designer living in Milan would fall hard for type? Well, that’s exactly what happened to Veronika Burian. And all it took was a fellow designer teaching her how to draw in FontLab. “It was like falling in love,” recalls Burian. “I was already disillusioned with product design, and I wanted to change careers. So I started looking into the possibility of doing a [master’s] in graphic design.” After a bit of research, she found the type design program at University of Reading, visited the campus, spoke to professor Gerry Leonidas, and had discovered her path.

While finishing her degree, Burian met fellow type designer José Scaglione. A few years later, when Burian was a designer at the British foundry Dalton Maag, she and Scaglione founded TypeTogether. For more than a decade, their small, independent foundry has created typefaces that perform well in continuous reading and also exhibit strong personality. Case in point: Just look at Adelle or Bree in action.

When asked what still excites her about new projects, Burian says it all comes down to self-initiated work. “In recent years, my days have been increasingly filled with managerial tasks, so going back to the drawing board is actually a lot of fun. I enjoy developing the DNA of a typeface and exploring the various possibilities of expressing a certain function or emotion that I want the typeface to convey.”

Abril

Adelle

Bree

NADINE CHAHINE

Type designerNotable typefaces: Frutiger Arabic, Neue Helvetica Arabic, Univers Next Arabic, Palatino Arabic

Lebanese designer Dr. Nadine Chahine cites her studies with Samir Sayegh, a calligrapher teaching Arabic Typography at the American University of Beirut, as the catalyst for her interest in type design. “The beauty of the shapes, coupled with the desperate need for well-designed Arabic typefaces, got me hooked very quickly,” says Chahine.

When asked how Arabic type has evolved over the past 10 years and where it is headed, Chahine is enthusiastic about the many new designers interested in the field. “There is also a growing awareness in our markets about the importance of type,” she says. “This means that Arabic type design has become a serious field to work in, which results in a higher quality and quantity of typefaces available.” Coupled with the Glyphs app removing more technical challenges, it is now much easier to develop Arabic fonts.

With years of experience at Monotype, Zapfino Arabic stands out in Chahine’s body of work for the foundry as the most difficult design she’s ever worked on. Why? “I was inventing a new calligraphic style via typographic design,” she says. “This is not how it usually works!” Chahine had to find a style that would pass as an Arabic companion to Zapfino—and feel as if it were written by the same hand. “Working with Prof. Zapf is still one of the most formative experiences I’ve had to date,” she says. “His approach to design, attention to detail and the beauty of the forms he created are a constant source of inspiration to me.”

At the end of the day, Chahine says, “It’s very important to me to focus on typefaces that invite people to read.”

Amariya

Dubai

Univers Next Arabic

LAURA MESEGUER

Type designerNotable typefaces: Multi, Lalola, Cortada Dos

Laura Meseguer calls Barcelona, Spain, home, so it should come as no wonder that shapes and forms move her. She is surrounded by them—in nature, architecture, design, painting, lettering and calligraphy. The city touts not only Basque and Catalan influences, sitting between the Mediterranean and Europe, but the surreal architecture of Antoni Gaudí.

Meseguer received her master’s in type design from The Royal Academy of Art in The Hague, Netherlands. In 2005, the typeface she designed while there—Rumba—won in the TDC Type Competition. Since then Meseguer has been working in editorial, lettering and type design, both independently and as part of Type-Ø-Tones, the typographic design company she founded alongside Joan Barjau, Enric Jardí and José Manuel Urós.

Meseguer, along with Nueve Ojos, also designed the La Rosa de Foc typeface for the title credits of Manual Huerga’s documentary Barcelona. In seeking to answer the question of what typeface would best represent the city, she realized Barcelona does not have one clear typographic identity, but many.

Likewise, from her lettering to typefaces such as Lalola, Dauro and Magasin, Meseguer’s body of work does not fit into one single box, but many.

Cortada Dos

Lalola

Multi

NINA STÖSSINGER

Type designer, educatorNotable typefaces: FF Ernestine, Nordvest, Sélavy

Swiss-born Nina Stössinger found type while studying graphic design in Germany. One thing led to another, and she enrolled in the postgraduate TypeMedia Program at the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague, Netherlands.

When Armenian type designer Hrant Papazian contacted Stössinger about contributing to a typeface called Ernestine, she answered with a resounding yes.

“I had visited Armenia in the summer of 2009 and was fascinated by the wealth of exquisitely carved and painted letterforms,” she says. “In contrast to this rich culture—and the abundance of typographic choice from Latin-based languages—I was struck by the relative dearth of digital type to serve the Armenian language.”

Her first commercial typeface, FF Ernestine, was subsequently released in 2011.

Stössinger’s decision to support this fascinating, underserved writing system in collaboration with Papazian turned into a rewarding experience for both. In 2016, Stössinger went from running her own studio in The Hague to crossing the pond and joining Frere-Jones Type in New York City. “It was a big change,” she admits. “I’m very happy and grateful to be here, as part of a great team doing work that is more impactful and meaningful than what I could accomplish on my own. Type design strikes me as something that’s hard to practice entirely on one’s own, especially when one is still learning (as I hope I will always be). At some point you need feedback and exchange.”

In addition to honing her design skills, Stössinger is now teaching typeface design at Yale (alternating terms with Tobias Frere-Jones, who has been helming the course for many years). It’s an inspiring experience: “Talking with young designers makes me question the way I approach work, why I do things a certain way. It’s very gratifying to be able to give young designers access to type design, a field I myself found hard to initially approach, and have grown to enjoy so much.”

FF Ernestine

Nordvest

Sélavy

JESSICA HISCHE

Letterer, illustrator, type designer, authorNotable typefaces: Tilda, Minot, Brioche, Snowflake, Buttermilk

Art meets type in the work of Jessica Hische. She wears many hats—letterer, typographer, illustrator—and her output reflects this. From stamps, mo
vie titles and books to branding and packaging, Hische blends fresh elements of fun and grace in her illustrative work.

While Hische is best-known for her elegant lettering, she has also adapted it into a number of beautiful typefaces.

As she revealed about her process in Print in 2015, “When I’m tasked with lettering dozens of headlines and the client wants those headlines to feel fairly consistent, it sometimes makes sense for me to create a makeshift typeface of the basic letterforms, rather than dragging and dropping drawn letters in Illustrator. … These half-baked typefaces are in no way ready for the world to use, but they work well enough for me to quickly typeset lines, hand-kern and customize with swashes, ligatures, etc. I don’t think it saves me much time, but what it does do is allow me to spend more time perfecting letterforms and less time copy/pasting.”

Refining those forms has led to Tilda, Brioche and other faces.

The variety in Hische’s work prompts a question about inspiration and where she finds it. For her, it’s not the usual suspects of type specimens or Pinterest boards. “I draw the most inspiration for lettering projects from the project briefs themselves—narrowing the scope of what’s possible by really understanding the needs of the client in order to make something appropriate and beautiful,” explains Hische.

“Understanding how all the parts of something work together to make a cohesive whole is much more inspiring than looking at a ton of finalized pieces. I try to expand my knowledge by understanding why certain letterforms might be drawn a certain way, what attributes evoke certain eras or how legibility concerns affect the range of choices I can make.”

Brioche

Tilda

Minot

LUISA BAETA

Type designer, lettererNotable typefaces: Bligh, Arlecchino

Luisa Baeta has always been about evolution. After graduating with a degree in graphic design, she fell down the typographic rabbit hole.

“I got this idea that if I learned to design type, I would gain a structural understanding of typography and would become a better graphic designer as a consequence,” she says. And so this Brazilian-born designer entered the University of Reading, which resulted in a master’s degree in type design. Upon completion, the perpetual student felt that there was still more to learn.

Like Veronika Burian, Baeta became a type designer at the Dalton Maag foundry, which afforded her the opportunity to work on global brands in multiple scripts. “Working on different non-Latin scripts is an incredible learning opportunity. I had the chance to work on the Ethiopic script—how often does a chance to do that come along?—Devanagari, Thai, Greek and Cyrillic,” recalls Baeta. It was during her time at Dalton Maag that Baeta designed her own typeface, Bligh, a three-weight sans serif family selected as one of Typographica’s Best Typefaces of 2015.

“The plan was always to go back to graphic design once I felt like I had ‘learnt’ typography,” she says. “At some point, it dawned on me that learning type was an infinite road.”

Arlecchino

Bligh

LAURA WORTHINGTON

Type designer, calligrapherNotable typefaces: Adorn, Charcuterie, Mandevilla

Laura Worthington lives in the Pacific Northwest, which makes one wonder if Seattle’s short, dark winter days account for her prolific output. She’s been on a roll since she released her first typeface in 2010.

Worthington’s interest in calligraphy started early, while learning penmanship at age 9 in school. Like many of her peers, she found typography through design. “My father encouraged me to pursue graphic design, a career I engaged in from 1997 till late 2010. During that time, I kept looking for more opportunities.”

Her love of letters persevered and, today, you see it shine through loud and clear in her typeface and lettering work. Scripts with flourishes and flair—such as Adorn and Beloved—dominate her oeuvre. “I was always fascinated at the infinite possibilities of lettering,” Worthington says, “how one letter could take on so many different forms yet still hold the same meaning.” Her scripts, display, decorative, serif and sans serif fonts are infused with playful nostalgia, reminiscent of French signage and packaging.

Worthington’s inspiration comes from what she observes, her lettering practice and, perhaps most surprisingly, market needs. “I could be looking through junk mail, or be in the grocery store when an idea hits me … there aren’t enough ‘cute’ typefaces denoting youth or playfulness—I should create something that fills that need.

“My passion for letters is unending,” Worthington says. “I see my role as creating tools of expression—not just for myself, but for those using my typefaces.”

Adorn

Charcuterie

Mandevilla

LYNNE YUN

Type designer, letterer, calligrapher, graphic designerNotable typefaces: Constant, Ampersandist

Spend a little time with Lynne Yun, and you cannot help but be taken by her thoughtful, curious nature. “I often ponder the role of calligraphy in design, both in terms of its historical significance and its practical applications in modern-day design,” says Yun. “It used to be that calligraphy, lettering, type design and typography were practiced by a similar group of people. Somehow they split apart over the years, but the time is ripe for them to converge again. They are all branches of letterform design.”

Born in Nashville, TN, she spent much of her childhood traveling between her hometown and Daejeon, a small town in South Korea. Add studying graphic design at School of Visual Arts in New York City and working as a designer at Apple in San Francisco, and it’s fair to say Yun has been crisscrossing the globe both personally and professionally her entire life. Her nomadic adventures take shape in the United States map
she designed and handlettered.

It was Yun’s time in San Francisco that started her on the path to letters and typefaces. A project at Apple was the catalyst for taking calligraphy classes, which eventually led to Type@Cooper, the typeface design program at Cooper Union. “Since calligraphy is one of the earliest of formalized letterforms, it gives me a solid foundation throughout my work,” says Yun. “With this knowledge of historical letterforms, you can derive a norm, and even if you are designing letters that deviate from the classical form, you know which parts to keep and to change without sacrificing what the general public would perceive as a letter.”

Ampersandist

Constant

LIRON LAVI TURKENICH

Type designer, graphic designer, researcherNotable typefaces: Makeda, Aravrit, Lefty

“I get angry, I smile to myself, I get sad, I get energized,” says designer Liron Lavi Turkenich, referring to the multilingual signage in her native Israel. Every sign features three scripts—Hebrew, Arabic and English—some with typefaces chosen without care or respect; some with slightly different translations; others with too small or cramped scripts; while some are painted with a single brush for all scripts. Those signs are a huge source of inspiration and, she says, “such an important visual of our urban space. They say a lot about it.”

Though she has always loved words and letters, Turkenich officially discovered type design as a profession while studying visual communications—and everything clicked. “I finally understood what attracted me to study design in the first place,” she says. “Very early on in my studies, I knew where I was going. And while my peers complained about our Type 1 task to copy letters, I was as happy as a person could be.” Turkenich went on to receive her MA in type design from University of Reading, specializing in Hebrew and Amharic. Today, she teaches typography and takes on projects such as typeface designs for international companies.

Turkenich radiates energy as she talks about the many projects she’s working on at any one time. “Meditatively designing typefaces balances nicely with the chaos of organizing the ATypI conference. Covering a wide range of topics through teaching typography and the history of Israeli graphic design balances with deep research for texts and articles. Working online with the Alphabettes mentorship program balances beautifully with face-to-face workshops that I teach locally and internationally.”

Namaste.

Aravrit

Lefty

Makeda

As COVID-19 continues its spread around the world—and with the full impact of the virus still a question mark—it’s getting harder and harder to keep a handle on what’s canceled, what’s paused, and what’s still on. We found that to especially be the case with design and creativity events, so we pulled together a list of major shows planned for the next six months, and their current statuses.

We’ll circle back to each event’s website every week, and will update accordingly going forward. (Organizers: Making a change to your event? Please let us know, and we’ll update it here. Also: If we’re missing your event and you’d like to be listed, just contact us.)

Stay healthy out there, designers.

SuperConfSlated for: March 13–14, MiamiCurrent Status: Canceled From the Event: Update (March 12): “City of Miami has declared a state of emergency & cancelled all special events. We are unfortunately not going to be able to host SuperConf tomorrow & Saturday.”

Previous listing: “After speaking with some of the team at CDC center in Miami, as well as the Florida Department of Health, we have decided that for the time being, we will not be canceling SuperConf. We are following guidance from CDC, FLDOH and WHO by ensuring proper access to hand sanitizer, antibacterial soap, tissue and sneeze training at the conference. We have been and continue to monitor the situation on a daily basis.”

SXSWSlated for: March 13–22, Austin, TXCurrent Status: CanceledFrom the Event: “The City of Austin has canceled the March dates for SXSW and SXSW EDU. SXSW will faithfully follow the City’s directions. We are devastated to share this news with you. ‘The show must go on’ is in our DNA, and this is the first time in 34 years that the March event will not take place. We are now working through the ramifications of this unprecedented situation. As recently as Wednesday, Austin Public Health stated that ‘there’s no evidence that closing SXSW or any other gatherings will make the community safer.’ However, this situation evolved rapidly, and we honor and respect the City of Austin’s decision. We are committed to do our part to help protect our staff, attendees and fellow Austinites. We are exploring options to reschedule the event and are working to provide a virtual SXSW online experience as soon as possible for 2020 participants, starting with SXSW EDU.”

Adobe SummitSlated for: March 29–April 2, Las VegasCurrent Status: Live event canceled; virtual event plannedFrom the Event: “Each year, we look forward to hosting our customers, partners and employees from around the world at Adobe Summit and Magento Imagine to talk about the future of customer experience, unveil the latest product and platform innovations, and get inspired together as a community. Over the past few weeks, we have been closely monitoring and evaluating the situation around COVID-19 to ensure we are taking the necessary measures to protect the health and well-being of Adobe Summit attendees. As a result, we have made the difficult but important decision to make Summit/Imagine 2020 an online event this year and cancel the live event in Las Vegas.”

AIGA Design ConferenceSlated for: March 30–April 1, PittsburghCurrent Status: Postponed until Nov. 12–14From the Event: “COVID-19 and the worldwide implications have impacted our decision to postpone the 2020 AIGA Design Conference. This has been an extremely difficult decision, and we hope you can understand our concerns and actions. We look forward to seeing all of our attendees, speakers and partners Nov. 12–14, 2020. The health of our community is of the utmost importance.”

UXinsight 2020Slated for: April 6–8, Breda, The NetherlandsCurrent Status: Postponed until Sept. 14–16From the Event: Update (as of March 16): “The number of cases of Coronavirus in the Netherlands has increased significantly within the past days, particularly in and around the Brabant area where Breda is located. Government advice has warned against large gatherings of people to prevent further spread of the virus, and it is with these changes in circumstance we have come to the decision to postpone the conference.”

Previous listing: “We are monitoring the World Health Organization and the Dutch government to stay up to date on new developments concerning the Coronavirus. We will follow the advice of the Dutch government. At the moment, this means we intend to proceed with the conference as planned, with some extra precautions [we’d] like to share with you. We will also take measures on-site, like extra places to wash hands. For UXinsight visitors who cannot travel due to health issues or because their organization prohibits travel, we offer a live stream of the event on April 7 and 8.”

An Event ApartSlated for: April 13–15 (Washington DC), May 11–13 (Seattle), June 29–July 1 (Boston), Aug. 17–19 (Minneapolis)Current Status: Washington DC and Seattle events canceled From the Event: Update (March 15): “With heavy hearts, we’ve come to the decision that we must cancel An Event Apart in both Washington DC and Seattle this year. We really wanted these conferences to happen, but the presen
t circumstances have made it impossible to put on events in either city, for the time being.”

Previous listing: “Given all the recent news about the Coronavirus, it’s natural to ask whether these conferences will be canceled, or if they’re going ahead as planned. At this time, all six conferences for 2020 are proceeding as planned. We will continue to watch developments, particularly guidance from the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), and adjust course as needed—but for now, we’re planning to keep on keepin’ on. Why would we choose this path, when so many events are canceling? One reason is that the events that are canceling are giant shows drawing thousands of attendees from all over the globe to mix in huge crowds. The scale of An Event Apart is quite different: that of a few hundred attendees in a ‘classroom’ setting, with very few international attendees, and no trade floor where people jostle each other to get into vendor booths. The CDC has not recommended that gatherings of our size be canceled, and similarly has not recommended suspension of domestic travel.”

Smashing ConferenceSlated for: April 21–22 (San Francisco), June 9–10 (Austin, TX), Sept. 7–8 (Freiburg, Germany)Current Status: San Francisco event postponed until Nov. 10–11From the Event: Update (March 12): “Unfortunately, due to recommendations from the SF mayor’s office restricting group size, and with countless travel bans in place affecting speakers, attendees and team members, we cannot give you the conference experience you expect and deserve. For these, and many more reasons, SmashingConf SF is rescheduled.”

Previous listing: “Currently, we are following the CDC and WHO policies and recommendations, and as it all stands, we see no reason to cancel the event. However, we are coming up with contingency plans in the event the government puts any restricting regulations in place. All of our vendors, including our caterers, are working hard with us to put safer health practices in place. In addition, we are putting measures in place to give people more space, especially in workshop rooms, and during the conference, by adding more breakout spaces. All foods will be wrapped and not served buffet style. Hand-washing stations will be set up with information in the restrooms, and friendly waves will be suggested instead of handshakes. As of right now, there are no travel restrictions in place, but should one come about that limits a speaker’s travel, we are in discussions about having them deliver it remotely, or pre-recorded.”

OFFF BarcelonaSlated for: April 23–25Current Status: Postponed until Sept. 24–26From the Event: “OFFF has been holding discussions regarding COVID-19 over the past few weeks as news unfolds of cases developing across the world. Our primary concern is the health of our attendees, speakers, sponsors and the OFFF community internationally and in Barcelona. Due to the potential risks associated with holding OFFF Barcelona conference in April, we have decided to postpone OFFF Barcelona 2020 to September 24th, 25th and 26th. Thank you for your endless support. This has been an extremely difficult decision but we are sure you can understand our concerns and actions.”

Beyond TellerandSlated for: April 27–29, Düsseldorf, GermanyCurrent Status: Canceled, event to be rescheduledFrom the Event: Update (March 16): “I personally think that there is too much uncertainty to really plan and run an event for 500 people. Even if Germany opens up again, I have no idea if other countries (speakers and attendees!) would be able to travel again. Next to this I can’t take the responsibility for an event with 500 people in a situation like this. As sad as I feel, I have a responsibility for the people at my event and can’t make sure this would be a safe place where we don’t spread the virus or start spreading it again.” (More)

Previous listing: “With three events this year in Düsseldorf, Berlin and Munich, you might have asked yourself if they will take place or not. At this moment, while writing these lines, all three events for 2020 will be held as planned. I am following all updates carefully and things might change, but right now only two attendees asked if the event in Düsseldorf [will take] place and they where happy when I said yes. It is a difficult decision, but being only seven weeks away from a nearly sold out event in Düsseldorf, canceling or moving the date would not only mean a lot of problems for me, being a single person dealing with all this, it would also mean that many people would have to deal with changing or canceling travel arrangements, hotel plans and so on. Nevertheless safety and health first and if I need to move the event, I will, of course.” (More)

Think 2020 – IBMSlated for: May 4–7, San FranciscoCurrent Status: Live event canceled; virtual event plannedFrom the Event: “The health of IBM’s clients, employees and partners is our primary concern. In light of global precautions for the COVID-19 Coronavirus, and building upon recommendations from the World Health Organization, IBM is taking a new approach to its signature events. IBM Think 2020, the company’s premier client and developer conference, and PartnerWorld for our Business Partners, will be recreated as a global, digital-first event, to still be held on May 5–7. Think 2020 will be an exciting combination of live streamed content, interactive sessions and certifications and locally hosted events, which will highlight IBM’s technology and industry expertise for developers and clients without the risk of travel.”

HOW Design Live and The Dieline ConferenceSlated for: May 4–7, BostonCurrent Status: Canceled, event to be rescheduledFrom the Event: Update (March 16): “The health and safety of each and every member of our community and our staff is of the utmost importance to us. After closely monitoring the risk and impact of COVID-19 on a daily basis, and speaking at length with members of our community, HOW Design Live … has been postponed to a later date in 2020. The HOW Design team is diligently working on securing new 2020 dates and location. Updated information is expected soon.”

Previous listing: “We are actively monitoring the situation and are committed to the safety and security of all of the event participants; currently, the number of confirmed cases in the United States is extremely low. Regardless, as a general matter of precaution, we recommend that all show participants follow the CDC guidelines regarding prevention. Any participants who are experiencing symptoms of fever, cough and/or shortness of breath are advised to contact a healthcare provider, urgent care or hospital for instructions before going to a clinic or emergency room. A list of medical facilities located near the event venue can be found on the show website. An emergency medical technician will be available on the show site during regular show hours. In addition, we are providing hand sanitizer stations at the venue, and in all show areas. We are also providing medical masks upon request.”

User Experience LisbonSlated for: May 19–22, Lisbon, PortugalCurrent Status: OnFrom the Event: “UXLx is taking place in a little over two months and we understand our attendees are concerned if it’s still taking place. We’re following WHO and our government’s recommendations for travel and events, and we’re hoping the situation is cleared by the time of the event dates, so we’re still going ahead. The safety of our speakers and attendees is of paramount importance and we won’t proceed with a physical event if there are still risks at the time. In the meantime we are also looking at alternate ways to create an engaging event online, if needed, as a last resort.”

The Design Conference Slated for: May 20–21, Brisbane, AustraliaCurrent Status: On

Front Case Study Conference Slated for: May 28–29, Salt Lake CityCurrent Status: On

Adobe 99USlated for: June 3–5, New York CityCurrent Status: OnFrom the Event: “We will continue to track the developing situation regarding COVID-19 and share any relevant updates with our attendees. As always, the well-being of our employees and customers is top priority. Our standard registration cancellation fee will be waived in the case of an event cancellation, and no further registration price increases will take effect, out of respect to attendees who prefer to wait to purchase their badges.”

Icon11Slated for: June 28–July 1, Kansas City, MOCurrent Status: On

Design + DiversitySlated for: July 30–Aug. 1, St. LouisCurrent Status: On

All statements and logos come from each event’s respective website.

PRINT Book Club Presents:

Personas 111: The Art of Wig Making 2017–2020 by Tomihiro Kono

Words by Anna Battista

The first thing that may come to your mind while observing Tomihiro Kono’s wigs is punk. It is indeed easy to identify in the spiky hairstyles, bright colors and in that latent sense of rebellion, all the tropes of this subculture. Yet, to understand Tomihiro Kono’s work, you have to go back to the early performances of Greek and Latin plays.

During these representations actors would wear masks that helped them get into their roles; the masks were also conceived as instruments to achieve an internal metamorphosis.

Behind Tomihiro Kono’s work, there is a modern reinterpretation of two parallel phenomena that come from the classics—masks and the power of transformations. When you put on one of his hand-crafted wigs you take on a different persona—a term that in its Latin etymology referred to a theatrical mask—and become an entirely new character.

A shy person may transform into a rebellious punk; a tough individual may adopt the style and manners of a romantic lady in a powdered wig from the 1700s. A man may turn into a woman; a woman into a man. Or they may choose to become genderless beings, individuals who may be anything, even a powerful monster à la Medusa.

Tomihiro Kono’s wigs are for everybody and this is the main reason why his creations find a parallelism also with the Venetian 1700s costume of the bauta. All sorts of people could wear it with no distinctions of social classes or sex, and the disguise guaranteed maximum freedom and anonymity, just like Tomihiro Kono’s wigs.

German political philosopher Hannah Arendt stated that “the masks or roles which the world assigns us, and which we must accept and even acquire if we wish to take part in the world’s play at all, are exchangeable.” The same can be said about Tomihiro Kono’s wigs included in the volume Personas 111, a title that features a symbolic number, related to spiritual awakening and enlightenment, inspiration, intuition, optimism and self-expression. The 111 wigs in these pages are not static, but they are in continuous mutation: they take a new life when somebody wears them; they move and shake, tremble and seduce, inspire and invite. They are dramatic ways to change the way we look on the outside to change the way we feel inside.

Pink spikes and blonde braids; romantic curls, sharp green mohawks and pale blue waves; strawberry red asymmetrical bobs, rose gold soft mullets or simple straight hairstyles in a superb cobalt shade: choose and transform yourself with an uneven short shag, a page-boy hairstyle or a Chelsea haircut—you can be a naïve princess or a terrible tomboy, a punk rebel or a conformist, an artist or a mermaid.

There’s the ghost of indomitable La Casati, a Belle Èpoque icon, in one fierce red wig and the revolutionary spirit of Angela Davis in a poetical afro. Another design seems to have the fluffy consistency of the sweetest candy cotton and it is a joy to the eyes and the touch. There is a long wavy wig for all those among us who want to feel like Botticelli’s Venus, newly-born from a shell, a style that contrasts with the perfect smoothness of a zazzera reminiscent of the coiffure in Jacometto Veneziano’s exquisite Portrait of a Young Man. And then there are ethereal or bold styles that could fit angels or demons or that you may see donned by saints or sported by sinners.

These wigs, inspired by a combination of disciplines going from art and architecture to music, fashion and even mathematics, are indeed about finding a physical and metaphysical space, they represent an internal fight with our own selves and an opportunity to search for a new essence, grow and change, going through a process of catharsis.

Last but not least, Tomihiro Kono’s wigs are also a reaction to our digital society and a way to reclaim our physicality. In Latin times a persona was a mask; today our digital masks have turned into persons that amplify our individual digital essence via new means of communications and social media, letting our fake and intangible identities take over.

Tomihiro Kono does not invite us to transform ourselves digitally, but physically, recurring not to plastic surgery but to a wig.

This is why a wig by Tomihiro Kono is a “mask-thrix”—a mask for the hair (thrix meaning hair in Greek), a symbol of an existential drama and the possibility of taking up not just one role, but multiple ones via radical transformations.

By wearing a wig by Tomihiro Kono you can be anything and anyone but yourself. The promise is alluring. Enter the mask-thrix.

Excerpted from
Personas 111: The Art of Wig Making 2017–2020 © 2020 Tomihiro Kono, published by konomad editions. Excerpted by permission of the author. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

Project credits:Photography: Sayaka MaruyamaMake-up: Chiho Omae, Nana HiramatsuModel: Cameron Lee Phan @ New Pandemics

I’ve been mildly obsessed with WPA posters ever since I saw the National Park sets as a kid on summer vacation (wherein my father would obsessively drive my sister and me to every historic battlefield and park he could find on a U.S. map).

It was years before I discovered the true scope of the government’s poster project—35,000 designs—and the vital role that the campaign played in many artists’ lives during a tumultuous period of American history.

Though the government killed the project in due time, the Library of Congress offers a sizable historic gift to the world of design… if you know where to look.

From among the LOC’s collection of more than 900 posters, PRINT presents a selection of 92 designs, from the quaint and charming to the bizarre and propagandistic.

But first, here’s a piece on the posters from PRINT’s July/August 1978 issue, which Jeannie Friedman has kindly allowed us to repost here.

“WPA Poster Project: When Government Sponsors Art”

By Jeannie FriedmanOriginally published in PRINT XXXII:IV, July/August 1978

From 1935 until the early 40s, the project produced 35,000 poster designs created by scores of unemployed artists who were kept alive and working with government stipends. But eventually, the political ax fell.

It isn’t often that the poster flourishes as art and good graphic design enjoys public appreciation and awareness as well as government support. One such time was the troubled 1930s when the Federal Art Project was sponsored under the umbrella of the Works Progress Administration.

Little has been written or said about the WPA Poster Project and the two million silk-screened posters and 35,000 original designs that it produced in studios across the country between 1935 and 1942. Nor has there been discussion of the major innovation wrought in graphic design by the WPA Poster Project: government sponsorship of commercial artists as a group.

By 1938, the New York City Poster Project alone, which employed only about 50 artists, had produced a total of 306,472 prints from 11,240 original designs. At its peak, the New York City division of the Federal Art Project employed 2,323 artists in a variety of activities, including mural and easel painting, graphics and printmaking, sculpture, photography and poster design. The project provided jobs for thousands of unemployed artists during the Depression. These artists also taught classes across the country in community art centers and neighborhood houses.

Today, the original WPA posters designed by those artists are buried in the basement of the Library of Congress, categorized according to state and rarely pulled from their bins. They present a vivid historical record of the 1930s, documenting the various public programs of the federal government. By publicizing the activities of various state, city and federal agencies, they announce safety rules, promote obedience to the law, and advocate prenatal care, noise abatement, visiting the local library, and prevention of syphilis. In addition, they record a time of change in American graphic design.

By 1913, the Russian Constructivists had transformed typography. Largely through the work of El Lissitzky, type became an abstract design element. Lissitzky believed that good typography should achieve for the reader what voice tone conveys to the listener. Type could combine as an equal design element with geometric shapes—the circle, the square, the triangle—to create visual patterns that had strong emotive meaning. The designer was no longer dependent on illustration to tell a story. Type was no longer restricted by the rules of symmetry.

The surge of interest in new typographical design and the influence of the WPA Poster Project’s supervisor, Richard Floethe, had a dynamic effect on the project designers. Floethe had studied at the Bauhaus and genuinely believed in a utilitarian approach to art. The designer, he felt, should be equally at home in industrial design, stage design, typography or painting. Good visual thinking could be applied to any discipline.

Floethe’s dedication to good design, his democratic organization of the studio to maximize creative output, and advances in silk-screen technology contributed to a change in design thinking. And in spite of economic conditions, the camaraderie which developed among such a large group of artists working together, silk-screening together, struggling together, created a genuine expansion in the concept of work. The small two- or three-person advertising studio grew into a community.

Silk-screening as a medium came into its own under the WPA largely through the work of Anthony Velonis. When Velonis, an artist hired to work in the Federal Art Project, first walked into the studio, posters were being painted individually by hand. There was no organized system of mass production. He had the idea that silk-screening could be more than just a commercial reproduction process. It became, through him, a valid way to produce art, both for the printmaking division and for the Poster Project.

Silk-screening was an ideal printing method for the poster makers of the WPA. The printing could be done in the same shop as the designing. Artists were able to see their work through from initial sketch to final print. And, at less than a dime a print, it was inexpensive.

In creating the first WPA Poster Project, the federal government united the artistic community and greatly increased the self-respect of the graphic designer in a time of real economic hardship. Fine artists, graphic designers, sculptors all found themselves in the same category of the unemployed. The Poster Project, however, like the rest of the larger Federal Art Project, was never fully supported by the Administration or Congress. It faced a continual cutback of funds, primarily as the approach of World War II promised a reviving economy. The Artists Union kept up a continual struggle against layoffs, harassment and firing of artists for political activities. In December 1936, 219 artists were arrested in New York, some brutally beaten, for protesting a cut of 2,000 artists from the project and the threatened liquidation of the entire program. In May 1938, salaries were slashed from $23.86 to $17.28 a week. In 1939, the final blow came. The Emergency Relief Appropriations Act passed by Congress killed the art, music, writers, historical records and other WPA cultural projects, turning them over to the states with the certain knowledge that this meant their early demise. The message was clear. Government support for the arts was merely a stop-gap until the war could revitalize the overall economy.

After the war, the design profession became organized as it never had before. The more prosperous economy demanded more advertising for commercial businesses, and design agencies sprang up around the country.

Artistically, the WPA Poster Project provided an opportunity for experimentation and community. It pulled together the new typography from the Soviet Union, the spirit of the Bauhaus, and the fresh approach to silk-screening as a medium. The project was only a taste of
what can happen when art and politics start to fuse constructively. For the designers on the project, the experience remained for a lifetime. As Velonis states, “The whole thing was exciting for me. It was an education, and it enriched my whole life.”

Health (and STDs)

The Arts

National Parks

Propaganda

Miscellaneous

This article originally appeared in 2015.

The Ultimate Guide to Color

In this collection of all things color, you’ll find thirteen resources for helping you rediscover inspiration and creativity in your work. From palette-building techniques to color theory, this kit will give you a comprehensive library of resources. Through the books and videos included, you’ll be able to take a look back through the major milestones in color history and then see how they affect current color communication and trends. Head over to Print’s online store to check it out.

A tempest of hand-painted words swirls, tumbles and writhes across a 7-foot-tall canvas, forming a map of the United States. A far cry, perhaps, from Pentagram Partner Paula Scher’s sleek, ubiquitous identity designs, but cartographic paintings have been the tailside of her creative coin for nearly 20 years.

The design legend’s fascination with maps began in the 1950s, informed by her father Marvin Scher’s work as a civil engineer for the U.S. Geological Survey.

“He was obsessed with accuracy,” she recalls. “He was the one who told me how inaccurate maps were. He said the earth is curved, and photography is flat, so what you see isn’t really what’s there.” Specializing in photogrammetric engineering (the science of the camera and how it captures imagery), Scher’s father invented stereo templates, a measuring device that made camera lenses capable of correcting distortions that occur when aerial photography is enlarged. If not for that invention, precise mapping software such as Google Maps would not exist today.

In a playful perversion of this accuracy, Scher’s map paintings allude to distortion in the presentation of data on the web and in the media. Today, people look at charts, maps and infographics as if they are always completely accurate. That’s a mistake, she says, and a dangerous one.

“Data isn’t neutral,” Scher says. “It’s gathered, which means someone is editing it. Someone will make a chart, and it might be right, but it’s not literal fact. You don’t know what factors are included or not included. My map paintings are nothing but opinion. I’m controlling the data any way I want and I’m blatantly open about it. I’m using it to create an impression.”

New York City’s Bryce Wolkowitz Gallery showcased a new collection of Scher’s maps in an exhibition entitled “U.S.A.” It was the first release of 10 maps of the United States she painted between 2014 and 2016, taking an interpretive and chaotic look at various data sets including climate zones, zip codes and transportation flow—complete with cultural and political commentary. The pieces in the exhibition are, in Scher’s words, “all the same and all different.”

“I did it largely because [it was] an election year, and I’m fascinated by statistics and the way people vote and the way people think and why they think that way,” Scher says. “I began looking at the country and population centers and what’s near something else. Where’s the North, and where’s the South, and where do they meet, and what do people really think about when they’re in the middle? When you look at things like that, you gain a sensibility about why things exist and how they happen and why we are the way we are. It’s right there on the surface of the map.”

“US Demographics and Economy” detail

Although she has created at least 55 wall-sized maps featured in galleries across the U.S., Scher’s adventures in opinionated cartography began on a smaller scale. Her earliest hand-drawn maps and word-dense visualizations of quotes in the media were more personal creative projects that documented the way she saw and felt about the world. One of Scher’s first projects in the same vein was a hand-drawn illustration of the United States for a 1989 AIGA cover. After that, demand for her illustrations swelled. But when potential clients sought to control the copy that comprised each intricate creation, Scher lost interest.

She painted her first large-scale map in 1998 in her home, without considering that it would appear in a gallery or show.

“It was around the time I was designing the Citibank logo in 1998; we had become completely computerized, and I never touched anything as a designer anymore,” she says. “Everything was made on a computer. There were no art supplies anymore. I felt completely odd, like I didn’t make anything. Even though I made a lot of things, I felt like nothing was happening. I realized I missed working with my hands. So we have this big house, and I thought it would be interesting to see one of those maps I painted really big. I thought it would be better.”

She worked on her in-home map for nearly three years before, during a visit to her home, filmmaker and painter Jeff Scher (no relation) saw the painting and recommended Paula to his gallery. Scher starts the process of creating her maps with little planning—a look at several maps of a given region and any relevant data sets.

“It’s aesthetic, and also emotional,” she says. “I describe it as abstract expressionist information—that you are taking information and manipulating it to create a sensibility.”

“U.S. Geography and Climate” detail

The words that appear in her map paintings describe the historical context in which she creates them as much as they comment on the geography and population of the region. None of the maps she has created are simple, but perhaps the most intricate of her recent paintings is “U.S. Counties and Zip Codes, 2016,” featuring a tangled background of postal codes and county names that extends into the oceans where Scher ran out of space.

“After I finished it, I looked at it and I decided I was probably really crazy, and I was annoyed at myself [while painting it],” Scher says. “All of my maps, if you take them down, are usually population maps. They’re about place names, and you see them become dense or more sparse, and that’s all about population.”

“U.S. Counties and Zip Codes” detail

Scher has reinterpreted the entire world again and again—continents, countries, cities, even political landscapes and timelines of media coverage. In 2011, she also published a book featuring dozens of her maps, installation pieces, drawings and prints, appropriately titled Paula Scher: MAPS.

Scher’s cartography speaks to the importance of place in her life and work. The chaotic style of her paintings—as well as her design work—is influenced in part by her life in New York City.

“The loudness of my work as a graphic designer is a result of New York,” she says. “Things are packed in, they’re noisy, they’re irritating. And then on the other side, I think that the painting is all about being bombarded with media and how
you see and hear things.”

Scher’s maps may be impressionistic, but the narrative she constructs reflects the distorted, complex state of the world today—and encourages the rest of us to do the same.

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The battle was fierce this primary season. In our Democrat candidate logo bracket, there were decisive defeats. There were upsets. There were, admittedly, contenders we were surprised to see advance at all. There were … bright green logos?

The skirmishes have been fought and a victor has emerged in our 12-candidate single-elimination contest.

But first, a recap of the results that brought us to this point.

Round 1Tulsi Gabbard: 54%. Tom Steyer: 46%.Mike Bloomberg: 55%. John Delaney: 45%.Deval Patrick: 70%. Amy Klobuchar 30%.Andrew Yang: 65%. Michael Bennet: 35%.

Round 2Joe Biden: 79.2%. Tulsi Gabbard: 20.8%Mike Bloomberg: 53.9%. Pete Buttigieg: 46.1%.Bernie Sanders: 51%. Andrew Yang: 49%.Elizabeth Warren: 56.7%. Deval Patrick: 43.3%.

Round 3Joe Biden: 86.1%. Mike Bloomberg: 13.9%.Elizabeth Warren: 62.2%. Bernie Sanders: 37.8%.

Ultimately, we were left with two final contenders:

As voters made their picks over the past week, Print diligently lingered outside public libraries and churches nationwide to conduct a series of exit polls.

Here’s a sampling of what the Biden logo supporters said:

1. “Eye catching.”

2. “It’s an aggressively normal logo, which I would usually hate, but I think its conventionalness conveys exactly who Joe Biden is and who he is trying to be: a steady return to normalcy.”

3. “The American flag in the logo is very smart and subtle.”

4. “It is more technically complex than Warren’s.”

5. “The flag in the ‘E’ is effective and represents Joe’s patriotism well.”

6. “More interesting design composition. Warren’s is just a string of letters. I don’t really see it as much of a logo design.”

7. “Biden’s logo is beautifully balanced and timeless.”

8. “This logo has a highly marketable branded appearance as it is impactful, memorable and clean.”

9. “[It’s] specific to the occasion, with an American theme (Warren’s could be for anything).”

And here’s a sampling of what the Warren logo supporters said:

1. “Black, underlined, name-only makes a bold statement—she is not just another candidate, doesn’t need campaign shtick.”

2. “It’s simple, but eye-catching and aesthetically pleasing.”

3. “Clean, concise and not the normal jingoistic color scheme. It feels [like the black was] deliberately chosen to set her apart.”

4. “Simple: Biden’s ‘E’ is trying too hard.”

5. “It’s not trying to be cute and clever in a bid to cash in on residual good vibes from the Obama rising sun.”

6. “I like how straightforward the treatment for Warren is. It’s putting up no fronts, it is what it is, which feels like a great message.”

7. “The Warren logo is strong. I like the Biden logo but I’m not sure the ‘E’ has a point. I might be red/blue fatigued as well.”

8. “A logo that fits the candidate. Black and white, no nonsense, not warm, fuzzy or optimistic. The logo of a candidate who wants to tear Trump a new one.”

9. 🗽

So: Who won? America’s Graphic Design Choice Is:

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*Drumroll*

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*Builds tinfoil shelter around computer to ward off election interference*

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Congrats to the Elizabeth Warren for President graphic design team for claiming 65.3% of the final vote. Print has reached out to the crew for a Q&A about the logo, and will follow up before too long.

In the meantime, we also polled voters on what they wish they would see in candidate logos at large—and the results might just offer some clues for the next wave of presidential designers.

1. “No more numbers/years in the logos! We get it: election year, hooray.”

2. “More diversity in font and style.”

3. “Guts.”

4. “I think they should take more chances with their color palettes and not feel beholden to the red, white and blue. I really enjoyed what Mayor Pete’s campaign presented this election season and think more candidates should take that approach.” (Ed. note: See here.)

5. “I wish the logos would look like the candidates hired a top-flight designer. So many look like they did them themselves.”

6. “Not the pro-USA stuff that everybody has and knows, but the actual thing that makes the candidate different from the other candidates.”

7. “Actual design, not just pandering.”

8. “Some new ideas/clean and beautiful typography. Make a variable type logo, I dare you. Use a color other than red, white and blue, I dare you.”

9. “More diverse candidates with more diverse names and spellings to result in more diverse logos.”

10. “Literally anything interesting—illustration, line work, any shape outside of a rectangle.”

11. “Intersectional color options. Or: Representative LGBTQ+, women/minority logo involvement.”

12. “The ability to alter the design for specific states and constituencies.”

13. “Would be interesting to come up with an icon system that could be paired with each candidate’s personal font choice that defines one or two of their main platform issues. You would get a better idea of where each candidate’s passions lie and it would put more weight on their perspectives rather than their appearance.”

14. “Strength. Confidence over cleverness.”

15. “Less cute. Fewer gimcracks.”

16. “Whatever is not on a MAGA hat.”

There’s always a wonderland of new books floating around the Print offices—so many, in fact, that we’re not always able to cover all the best ones. Given the sheer quality of design books of late, we’ve decided to make an effort to rectify that with a dedicated column—which we jokingly dubbed the “Print Book Club” as a placeholder … and now officially dub the “Print Book Club” because we’ve grown attached to it.

Our goal is simple: to share exclusive excerpts from a medley of new or upcoming titles that we love.

First up is Space Dogs: The Story of the Celebrated Canine Cosmonauts by Martin Parr and Richard Hollingham.

As the official copy goes, “In the 1950s the space race between the USA and the USSR was well and truly on, and was for both a matter of pride and propaganda. But before man ventured into the cosmos, his four-legged friends would pave the way for space exploration.

“The first canine cosmonaut was Laika, meaning barker. The little stray could never have anticipated that she would one day float 200 miles above the Moscow streets. She would be canonized as a proletarian hero, appearing on stamps, postcards and souvenirs. Her successors were Belka and Strelka, the first dogs to successfully return safely to Earth, and with them, the cult of the space dog was born.

“This fascinating book tells the story of the space dogs, illustrated with legendary photographer Martin Parr’s vintage space-dog memorabilia. In a regime that eschewed celebrating individual achievement, these dogs became Soviet superstars, with a vast array of merchandise, books and films in their honor.”

Here, we present Parr’s intro, and some of our favorite extra-planetary pups.

From the first moment I saw a piece of space dog ephemera I was hooked. It’s such a great story. Russia was winning the space race that was taking place against the backdrop of the Cold War. Stray dogs were being plucked off the streets of Moscow and trained for space missions. Quite how this process was undertaken has always been a mystery to me.

Laika was the first dog to orbit the Earth, but she sadly perished on re-entry into the Earth’s atmosphere. This fact was somewhat obscured by the Russian space agency for decades, as they did not want the mission to be viewed as a failure. But Laika’s demise did not hinder the advent of the space dog memorabilia industry. Russia needed heroes, and Laika—and later Belka and Strelka—fulfilled this role perfectly.

The amount and variety of space dog ephemera that was produced is mind-boggling. Clocks, cigarette cases, ornaments and myriad dog-related items helped to validate Russia as the superior power in the Cold War.

If the response to the supposed triumph of Laika was extraordinary, things really ramped up to a whole new level with Belka and Strelka. Not only did these dogs survive the ordeal of orbiting space, but they could also be paraded and photographed upon their return, and thus became the new national heroes.

Russian society was not accustomed to the heroes and superstars that we are used to seeing in the West, and the space dogs easily fitted into this new role. Perhaps a useful way to really understand the impact that they had on Russian society is to draw a parallel with The Beatles or Mickey Mouse, those Western icons that generated huge quantities of memorabilia.

After Belka and Strelka, other dogs went into space but the momentum slowed, yet this notorious pair of stray dogs became icons of the whole space dogs program.

So how did I come across all of the material in my collection? Apart from picking up some items of space dog memorabilia in the famous Moscow flea markets, my main source has been the internet, and over the past 20 years regular searches have unearthed many items for the collection.

My quest was consolidated when I connected with Natalie, an eBay seller who would always have extremely good space dog items on offer. These have been posted to me and even collected, via a third party, on one of my many visits to Moscow. These days I continue to trawl the internet, but most objects I own already, or they don’t really excite me, so what you see in the following pages is the sum total of a 20-year obsession. I hope that some of the magic of the space dogs phenomenon will rub off on the reader.

—Martin Parr

Desk clock featuring Laika, with the planets in the background.

Blown-glass commemorative ornament showing Laika at the feet of a soaring Sputnik 2.

Laika cigarettes produced under supervision of the Ministry of Food Industry. Introduced in 1957, the brand was finally discontinued in the 1990s.

Porcelain commemorative plate. The inscription reads, “Laika, the first traveler in space.”

Belka and Strelka wall clocks with various displays featuring pressure and temperature gauges.

“Belyanka and Pyostraya in the Rocket,” a 1961 Russian children’s book by writer V.Borozdin, describing the work of the Soviet space dogs.

Handmade and handprinted wooden nesting Matryoshka d
olls.

Hand-painted Gzhel porcelain decanter depicting Belka and Strelka peering from their rocket portholes.

Night lamps from the 1960s, featuring Dimitrovsky porcelain figurines and toy cosmonaut figures.

Desktop display model featuring Chernushka, whose orbital flight aboard Sputnik 9 was made with cosmonaut mannequin “Ivan Ivanovich.”

Excerpted from Space Dogs: The Story of the Celebrated Canine Cosmonauts by Martin Parr and Richard Hollingham. Copyright © 2019 by Martin Parr and Richard Hollingham. Excerpted by permission of Laurence King Publishing Ltd. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Jessica Hische, photographed for PRINT magazine by John Keatley.

Writing about Jessica Hische can be a challenge, because most designers probably already know some version of the following: “Lettering artist Jessica Hische is hilarious yet poignant, eloquent yet fond of the occasional F-bomb, elegant yet not averse to tossing back a bourbon—and moreover, every element of her character feels genuine, and every element of it appears in her work.”

I wrote that in 2017, after Debbie Millman and I returned from a PRINT photoshoot of San Francisco’s best creatives, Hische among them. (After 48 sleepless hours of shooting and interviewing more than 70 people, we wound up with two strong cover contenders—one of the inimitable Tim Ferris, and one of the inimitable Hische. We couldn’t choose a favorite, and ran both in back-to-back issues.)

If you feel like you know Jessica Hische a bit from her output, you might not be all that off-base, and you certainly wouldn’t be alone. It’s been written that her work has “personality,” but it might be more accurate to say that her work has presence—her presence. In my experience, what you see is really what you get.

Then again, as this episode of Design Matters and the one that preceded it in 2011 prove, the more you think you know someone’s story, the more you don’t. Something that might blow your mind, given Hische’s prolific output and perpetual talent: She almost didn’t get into art school. (She transferred high schools in 11th grade to be able to take more art classes, and as a result of a late start, emerged not with a massive portfolio, but instead, thankfully, with a teacher’s recommendation.)

And then there’s the reason she started experimenting with lettering in college—she couldn’t afford good fonts. The fateful mailer that landed her a job with the legendary Louise Fili. How she evolved from designer and prodigious lettering artist to bestselling children’s author.

Journalists make a career of briefly talking to people and then presenting them to readers who often presume they’re getting a complete biographic profile. But there’s a great joy in admitting that you’re not telling the full story—rather, every article, every interview, every printed page and spent pixel forms a mosaic that hints at it.

In other words, there’s always more to discover about the minds who create culture today.

This interview offers a deeper conversation with Jessica Hische. As you listen, I recommend dropping by her perpetually delightful and comprehensive website and browsing her work—some of which you might know well, and some of which you might be meeting for the first time.

After three rounds, we have arrived at the final campaign logo showdown: Joe Biden vs. Elizabeth Warren.

In the third round, Biden destroyed Mike Bloomberg, winning 86.1% of the vote. Warren, meanwhile, soundly defeated Bernie Sanders, claiming 62.2% of the vote. (Before you comment on social media, remember, people—this is just a logo battle, not an idealogical one.)

So: Make your choice. We’ll be back next week with the results!

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Perpetually stolen identities. Hacked elections. Digital pandemics. The scourge of fake news that’s actually fake, though it’s not the “fake news” that the president tells you is fake.

The internet has done incredible things for the world—but it has also introduced incredible complexity into our lives and society at large.

On Jan. 6, 1941, Franklin Delano Roosevelt delivered the State of the Union that is now widely known as the “Four Freedoms” speech (which was said to draw inspiration from Leo Friedlander’s Four Freedoms sculptures, created for the 1939 World’s Fair in Queens). The speech took place on the eve of major U.S. involvement in WWII, as conflict burned throughout the world in a series of ever-increasing brush fires.

In his address, Roosevelt said:

The future of all the American Republics is today in serious danger. …That is why every member of the Executive Branch of the Government and every member of the Congress face great responsibility and great accountability. …In the future days, which we seek to make secure, we look forward to a world founded upon four essential human freedoms.The first is freedom of speech and expression—everywhere in the world.The second is freedom of every person to worship God in his own way—everywhere in the world.The third is freedom from want—which, translated into world terms, means economic understandings which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants, everywhere in the world.The fourth is freedom from fear—which, translated into world terms, means a world-wide reduction of armaments to such a point and in such a thorough fashion that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor—anywhere in the world.Freedom means the supremacy of human rights everywhere. Our support goes to those who struggle to gain those rights and keep them. Our strength is our unity of purpose.

Roosevelt had declared a set of American values—and there was no one more American to visualize the Four Freedoms than Norman Rockwell. His four paintings were featured in The Saturday Evening Post, and subsequently appeared on postage stamps.

In light of the new frontier that the internet has ushered in, The Daily Heller asked Viktor Koen to create a set of modern-day freedoms. Koen, who is a faculty member at the School of Visual Arts, has created work for a wide range of outlets, including The New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Esquire, National Geographic and Wired.

We caught up with him for a few quick questions about the pieces, which appear below, and can be downloaded as high-res files here: No. 1, No. 2, No. 3, No. 4 and No. 5.

What do these freedoms mean to you?A humanistic call to reassess the existing (ab)use of technology.

Do you feel the same urgency that Rockwell felt when he painted the Four Freedoms?Unsure about the sameness, but definitely urgent. Rockwell’s images depicted the wholesomeness of what could be lost. Working in a diametrically different way, I opted for a more Orwellian approach.

What was your thinking in terms of style and tone?Keeping war propaganda posters in mind, I thought an increased sense of danger and urgency was more suitable for this edition. After all, very little is truly bright and colorful in the cyber sphere.

Did we miss any freedoms in this selection? Are there others that are threatened?Freedom from online addiction. Freedom from corporate predatory behaviors. Freedom from pointless waste of time.

I learned to design the same way I learned to swear: I had to pick it up in the street. I failed out of a university and was asked to leave a design school. But as destiny would have it, I’ve spent the last 20 years teaching in the classroom, running my own workshops and lecturing around the world, and I’ve developed my own ideas about how to teach design, encourage creativity and even inspire creative courage.

I’m no expert on design education’s merits or faults; this treatise is more of an “If I were king of the forest” scenario. I have no scathing account of how design schools got it all wrong; there are islands of creativity out there, hothouses of experimentation, but education on the whole has become an industry (“20 years of schooling and they put you on the day shift,” as Bob Dylan said), and design education is no different. My own purpose in teaching design has always been to help shepherd strong, opinionated creative individuals capable of handling this tool. My job is to make it hard for my students, to set a high bar. I ask them to seek answers inside of themselves, then make the huge leap of faith to believe in those answers. In doing so, they learn not only that they will not die, but also to trust their intuition, their gut, in order to make new, unique, exciting work. My ideas are not for everyone, and I don’t care.

As a teacher, I’m a dreamer and an idealist. People follow dreamers and idealists. Our work demands these qualities from us because good work inspires us. When we see freedom in someone’s work, it frees us up; when we see intelligence in someone’s work, it makes us smarter; and when we see vulnerability in the work we feel closer, more human.

Many of my peers see this as dangerous—I am the fox in Pinocchio, leading the good little boys and girls off to a life in the circus. “But however will they find a JOB? !” they ask. When pushed to invite danger into their work, my students find something much better than a job—they learn to create their own place in this world. I want them to learn to embrace danger. Danger requires bravery. It requires us to risk everything, to do our best work, embrace failure and leave it all on the track.

Herein are a few dangerous ideas about design education.

Weird is good.

Students are attracted to design in the first place because they see the world in a different way, slightly askew. They are weird. Most of them have heard this many times in their lives—and it was not intended as a compliment. But Weird is good; it’s an anomaly and it’s unique. I teach on the simple premise that the things that made you weird as a kid make you great as an adult—but only if you pay attention to them. If you look at any “successful” person, they are probably being paid to play out the goofiness or athleticism or nerdiness or curiosity they already possessed as a child. Unfortunately for most people, somewhere along the road their weirdness was taught out of them or, worse, shamed out of them. Crushed by the need to “fit in,” they left their quirks and special powers behind. But it is our flaws that make us interesting. We need to not only hang on to them, but hone them. I don’t try to make my students “Designers.” I want to make them “free-er.” It’s my job to teach them to look inside, to covet their weirdness, to help them direct it and take the rough edges off—or even add a few new ones. It’s my job to help students understand and cultivate their individuality and innate weirdness and turn them into a powerful tool. Weird is good, but only if we put it in your work.

Design is not math. This is what makes the work hard. There are no right answers and very few wrong answers. I’ve always thought of design more as an innate skill set that we are born with—a small ember waiting to be coaxed into a larger flame. What I see as problematic is when we teach design as if it is something outside of us. As if the students are in an assembly line holding empty shoe boxes, waiting for them to be filled with rules and theories and Photoshop. These tools are important, but they will only get you so far. I don’t believe design can be “taught,” but rather that it can be “reminded.” We need to remind students to use what they already have inside: their history, their loves, their fears. We have to teach students how to use their brains, to make their senses of association and imagery sharp and flexible and urge them to seek their own way and express their individuality. We have to push them to think for themselves, form an opinion—and know that their opinions matter. Essentially, we have to “teach” them to be themselves and put it in their work.

In my classroom, the first crit question is always, “What do YOU think?” A student’s explanation of her work may start, “When I was a kid, my dad took me to the beach, where we collected stones. …” Brilliant! This is relatable. When you do a good job of telling me your story, your fears, your loves, I see my story, my fears, my loves. Your particular story has meaning to a wider audience. So I spur my students to look inside for answers, not to constantly look outside and drown in a sea of reference materials or look for regurgitated, ready-made answers. They never have to make up a story. They have the story and need only look inside. This frees them from being in the people-pleasing business—looking over their shoulders for a “popular” answer. Thus, they avoid the world’s worst question—“What do THEY want?”—and they understand that the far better question is, “What do I have to say?”

Through this process they learn what others respond to in their work. This trains them to learn who their audience is. They learn that their audience is not me, nor the other students nor other designers, and certainly not onanist (look it up) design competitions. They learn that their job is not to try to appeal to everyone (a patently impossible task) but to tell THEIR story and find THEIR audience. Ultimately, they’ll make work that makes them happy, and they’ll get paid for it. The more we love what we do, the better off the field will be.

Humans come before design.

After I was asked to leave design school I began interning for one of my professors, a prolific book jacket designer named Paul Bacon. Paul was a master letterer and could draw and paint like a genius. But what he taught me about was wine and auto racing and well-told jokes, and he inspired in me a love of jazz. With these passions and a few of my own, I realized that I had everything I needed to be a successful designer.

Most of my college students jumped straight out of high school into a design degree. Personally, I think this is crazy because (apologies …): You don’t know shit. As a teacher, I am searching for interesting, qualified people. In order to teach you to be a designer, I hav
e to first ensure that you’re a compassionate, curious, intelligent being. I need to figure out if you have something to say, if you are talented, strong, smart and can handle the responsibility of access to the public. My best students have always been the ones who failed some other course of study or life choice—because they carry with them the fire of that experience. Their peripheral vision is stronger; they can pull from their outside sources, interests and experiences beyond graphic design. I believe in taking a wider view. I think we should encourage everything else, and then design.

… Fuck specialization in branding or advertising. Most branding is cookie-cutter boring, made by specialists. The obsessive concern with the intricacies of any tiny branch of design proves a myopic point of view. You know a lot about a little. I understand the importance of learning the complex rules of typography, but it’s like hygiene—know about it, but don’t obsess over it. Specializing is something a student should learn or be drawn to on their own. What makes a good designer is how they think. My students’ interests in cartography or magic tricks or motorcycle repair makes them better, more interesting and stronger. The best designers are interesting people first. Smart, funny and curious. Learn everything. Then forget it. THEN design.

Creativity can be killed.

Design is a commercial field, a business.

Creativity and business do not always make the best fit. Creativity seeks the “New”—new tools, new ways of doing and seeing things. But new is not always welcome. In fact, “new” is generally accepted only after it’s been accepted. In any form, whether it’s fashion, music, culture, even product—“new” is seen as a threat to the status quo. Design is no different.

Business is the opposite of creativity. Business wants tried-and-true. Business wants safety. Business would like to be creative, but only after the value of that creativity has been proven. Business likes to be in second place because first place is dangerous.

As educators we want to do our students a service, understanding that they’ll accrue debt and need to make a living. In order to make their parents happy and shield our young charges from financial failure, we teach to-the-business. We teach cowardice. In order to get a “job,” students are taught that goal No. 1 is “Please the Client.” Newly weighed down by the practicalities of making other people happy in order to get paid, students lose sight of themselves and the reason they started out on this path. We all know that “acceptable” is not good and will never be great. Hell, anyone can hold down a job. As Joseph Campbell put it, “I think the person who takes a job in order to live—that is to say, for the money—has turned himself into a slave.” I want students who have a vision and keep their eyes fixed on that goal to avoid getting waylaid along their path.

The problems start down the road. On my YouTube channel “Burning Questions,” we often find ourselves answering queries from mid-career designers who have lost their way, unsatisfied by the doldrums of creating color-corrected, acceptable work. They were conditioned to leave the “creative” part of the business out, and replace it with the merely “clever”—well-behaved little ideas that match the carpet and are so bland that they can pass through a focus group’s anus unscathed. Boring work that succeeds for the mere fact that it offends the fewest number of people.

My first and main concern is to foster confident, creative individuals that the world cannot ignore. It’s my job to urge their spark into a flame—to make their worlds larger, not smaller. Larger means to see the potential of human-to-human communication, the power of images and words, the strength in their opinion and personal histories—the freedom from “making shit up.” Smaller means catering to the whims of a client or constantly seeking the approval of others, guessing what other people want.

Of course I want my students to be extremely well-paid for their work, but what my students do with their flame, the commercial application, is their own damn business. Whether their highest esteem is to pay rent or to shoot for greatness is up to them. It is not the teacher’s role to preen students for cubicles and fluorescent lighting, but to prepare them for the longer road, to prepare them for careers 10 and 15 years down the road. In a field populated more and more by MBAs with color swatches, I push my students for creativity. I want to fill them up with a myriad of creative possibilities—not only the obvious and logical and marketable answers. As educators, we need to push for experimentation, risk and failure, not supply a safety net and easy access to a 401(k).

Here is a short list of a few “added bonus” ideas I like to impart on my students to help them on their path:

Know that not all clients deserve your attention. Designers are not one-size-fits-all.

Ask the questions. Why are we doing this? What are we contributing to the world?

Have boundaries. Be able to say NO and to never learn the taste of shit.

Ask for More—more time, creativity and always more money.

Learn about money management.

Enjoy your work and the process.

If you don’t enjoy it, how can you expect anyone else to?

Your work is a gift.

The highest ideal I can try to get my students to understand is that their work is a Gift. This is a truly dangerous idea. When your work is a Gift, it changes how you think about it. It changes why you work, what you make and even who you work for. When your work is a Gift, your goal is no longer to satisfy a boss or client—or even to gain a paycheck. You now work to make yourself happy, and in turn speak directly to your audience because you give them something of value: a piece of yourself. Designers should understand that this is how they will be paid best: to be themselves.

What motivates and excites the world is to witness one person, engaged, energized and empowered. This is the path to creativity. This is the way to great work. And ultimately, this is what makes us attractive to clients.

What I propose is a difficult and dangerous path, but then again, my ideas are not for everyone. Just the sexy people.

James Victore is a graphic artist, author and activist. Described as “part Darth Vader, part Yoda,” Victore is known for his timely wisdom and impassioned views about design and its place in the world. He reaches thousands with his weekly Burning Questions video series, delivers life-changing talks around the world, and leads Avant-Garde workshops to help creative types of all spheres live and work successfully. At the helm of his independently run design studio, Victore continually strives to make work that is sexy, strong and memorable; work that toes the line between the sacred and the profane. He taught at the School of Visual Arts in New York City for over 20 years.

This article originally appeared in Print’s Summer 2015 issue, with design by Kyle J. McDonald

#Designe
ducation #JamesVictore

Patrick is out! (In real life and in our bracket.)

The Final Four of our Democratic Presidential Logo contest is on!

In Round 2:

1. Tulsi Gabbard (20.8%) fell to Joe Biden (79.2%).

2. Mayor Pete (46.1%), despite having a delightfully friendly design tool for the public—the best of any campaign when it comes to graphic resource accessibility—was overtaken by Mike Bloomberg (53.9%).

3. Andrew Yang lost by a tight margin to Bernie Sanders, 49% to 51%.

4. Elizabeth Warren knocked out Deval Patrick, 56.7% to 43.3%.

Given that the results aren’t entirely dissimilar from the polling returns this campaign cycle (with the exception of Buttigieg, of course), some things we’re pondering …

1. What role have the logos played in the campaigns, and the actual results coming in from Iowa (yeah, we know) and New Hampshire … if any?

2. For our bracket, why are these the logos/campaigns that are rising to the top alongside the actual results—does it all come down to money, and the capital available to commission the brand materials?

3. Which campaigns seem to truly value design?

In any event, for our Final Four, we have:

Joe Biden vs. Mike Bloomberg

Bernie Sanders vs. Elizabeth Warren

So: Who will be your final two in our logo championship?

Vote now, and we’ll see you on Monday with the results and final round!

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From the curious introductory price of $666.66 to spreads featuring David Carson, old Apple and Mac ads are fascinating. On the practical side they also chart the swift evolution and perception of personal computers in America, as the conversation shifts from convincing potential users about the worth, utility and operation of the machines to the bolder tone Apple adopts as PCs become ubiquitous.

Mac Mothership, which maintains a fascinating archive of all things Apple, allowed us to dig through their collection of print ads. For more—and for larger versions, which are linked below—drop by the site.

Here we follow the trail of Apple ads that laid the foundation for the company prior to the bold palette dancing silhouettes and Feist videos that dominated in the early 2000s.

One of the first Apple ads. 1976. 4K RAM.

1976 Apple II Introduction Ad (1/2). “Now you’re ready for an evening of discovery in the new world of personal computers.”

1976 Apple II Introduction Ad (2/2).

1977 Apple II “Simplicity” Brochure.

Apple II 1979 “How to Buy” Ad. “Suddenly everyone is talking about personal computers.”

1979 Apple II “Adam” Ad. “What in the name of Adam do people do with Apple computers?”

1979 Apple Pascal “Iron-On” Ad. “When you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

1980 Apple II Ben Franklin Ad. “It’s a wise man who owns an Apple.”

1981 Apple III “Will Someone Please?” Ad. (1/4)

1981 Apple III “Will Someone Please?” Ad. (2/4)

1981 Apple III “Will Someone Please?” Ad. (3/4)

1981 Apple III “Will Someone Please?” Ad. (4/4)

1981 “Baked Apple” Ad (1/2).

1981 “Baked Apple” Ad (2/2).

1981 Chait/Day “Seriously” Ad.

1981 IBM “Seriously” Ad.

1984 Apple IIc Introduction Ad.

1992 PowerBook Ad, featuring Steve Wozniak (1/1).

1992 PowerBook Ad, featuring Steve Wozniak (2/2).

“What’s on your PowerBook?” Ad, featuring Gene Shalit.

1996 Power Macintosh Ad, featuring David Carson (1/2).

1996 Power Macintos
h Ad, featuring David Carson (2/2).

1997 Apple “Create” Ad.

1997 Mac OS 8 Introduction Ad #1.

1997 Apple Macintosh “Leave Your Mark” Ad.

1998 iMac “Chic. Not Geek.” Ad.

1998 Think Different Ad, featuring Muhammad Ali.

If there’s something that seems so refreshing in Tosh Hall’s design work, it’s probably because, well, he never intended to become a designer.

Rather, Hall’s educational foundation was in economics and journalism, which he studied at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

As he told The Dieline, “Journalism was great because I had to learn how to tell a story, and that thinking is the way I approach design and approach a problem. Economics helped because we are a business and we must work with businesses. As much as I’d like us to be in the arts space, we’re in the business space.”

At UNC, he worked in the full-scale offset print shop that produced the school’s communications—and there, through trial, error and the cruel tutelage of the old-school press gurus, he began his own design education.

After graduating, he got a job as a designer at Revlon, spent seven years at Landor, and then became creative director at Jones Knowles Ritchie—and eventually global executive creative director and global chief creative officer.

Not bad for a journalism and economics major.

Here, as a complement to the new episode of Design Matters, we present 15 of Hall’s wisdoms on branding and design—showcasing the mind at play behind brilliant work he has produced for everyone from Stella Artois to Kashi to the nonprofit Fonderie 47, which makes luxury jewelry from assault rifles reclaimed from war zones.

//

“We are part doctors and part Boy Scouts. Boy Scouts leave campsites better than they found them, and doctors must diagnose before they prescribe treatment and first promise to do no harm. Our job is to understand the business problems that design can solve, provide the right solutions and ultimately leave brands better than when we found them.” (source)

//

“It’s best for the brand to go in a long-term direction of health and growth instead of zigging, zagging back and forth between whatever the marketing plan du jour is, and a hope for short-term success.” (source)

//

“People are obsessed with the next. Be present and do the best work possible in that moment. It’s easy to say in retrospect, but the rest of it will take care of itself.” (source)

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“I believe everyone deserves great design. Whether you are holding a can of beer, eating a fancy ice cream bar or flying first on a great airline, brands can no longer get away with mediocrity. Ugly costs brands money. Great design adds profit much faster than it adds cost. We seek to influence what consumers hold in their hands and experience in the world, and we aspire to create the ideas that persist in people’s minds.” (source)

//

“The answer isn’t always packaging.” (source)

//

“My favorite artists comment on culture, commercialism and design: I love the intensity of Robert Longo, the combination of message and medium from Ed Ruscha, the scale of photographer Andreas Gursky, the geometry of Frank Stella and pattern of Bridgett Riley.” (source)

//

“We wear black because it’s simple and everything else should be the color—your ideas should be the color.” (source)

//

“Craft is almost table stakes. We have to have work that is representative of the best quality of craft in brand communications design, but what will differentiate the great from the good is what power design and communications can wield in the world. Going beyond being well-executed and well-crafted, ideas can not only drive strategic business objectives but push the industry forward and create cultural impact.” (source)

//

“All you really need for a good idea is a pen and a piece of paper, and a brain. The more we can tap into that in this technological world where you’re always on, the better we’ll be.” (source)

//

“My advice to designers comes from one of my favorite motorcycle racing formulas for winning. Success is only 20% talent, 30% being at the right place at the right time and 50% tenacity. Plenty of designers are more talented and many will have better connections—the trick is to identify the right opportunities, doggedly pursue your goals and work fucking hard.” (source)

//

“We redesigned Budweiser because it deserved to be redesigned. It is an artifact of our culture—it deserves to be great.” (source)

//

“The challenge was, how do we change everything and change nothing?” (source)

//

“To me, nothing is worse than being right, but five years ahead.” (source)

//

“It doesn’t matter what direction you’re moving in as long as you’re moving.” (source)

//

“Spending time just crafting is a rare luxury. So enjoy it.” (source)

The Principles:

Cleanliness. Readability. Objectivity.

Just a few key words that describe the driving force behind Swiss Style. The 19th century marked the separation of design from fine art, and with it, the birth of grid-based design.

Band posters designed by Mike Joyce and inspired by Swiss Style

Philip B. Meggs‘ History of Graphic Design explains that International Typographic Design begins with a mathematical grid. These grids are considered to be the “most legible and harmonious means for structuring information.” Using a grid for design makes creating a hierarchy for the content much easier—think web design. Why are so many websites broken into grids? Grids are flexible, consistent and easy to follow. They are clear-cut and work well with ratios (Rule of Thirds, Golden Ratio, etc.). In addition to the grid, Swiss Style usually involves an asymmetrical layout, sans serif typefaces and the favoring of photography over illustrations.

The movement’s innovators combined elements of other artistic trends to create the beauty and simplicity of the Swiss Style that we know today. Elements from Bauhaus, De Stijl and The New Typography are sprinkled throughout the works of Ersnt Keller, Max Bill, Josef-Müller Brakmann and Armin Hofmann—i.e., the pioneers of Swiss Style.

The Typefaces

Appreciating Swiss Style means appreciating the typefaces that started it all. Those grid systems wouldn’t be anything without the classic sans serif typeface that so seamlessly folds into Swiss Style. Those who taught Swiss Style argued that design should focus on the content and not decorative extras. By stripping away the embellishments, Swiss Style eliminates distractions for the viewer and allows the information-heavy design to be read and studied rather than merely seen and admired. Because of this, the typefaces chosen to represent Swiss Style are those that really hone in one the movement’s key principles:

Akzidenz-Grotesk

Probably the most influential typeface for this movement, Akzidenz-Grotesk was released by the Berthold Type Foundry in 1896 and was arguably the first of its kind. It soon became one of the most widely used typefaces and was even sold in the U.S. under the names “Standard” or “Basic Commercial.” If that doesn’t shout “FIRST!” I don’t know what does.

Univers

Adrian Frutiger, one of the most influential typeface designers of the 20th century,

created Univers in 1954. Pulling elements from Akzidenz-Grotesk, Frutiger created one of the first typefaces that formed a font family, allowing documents to use one typeface (instead of several) in various sizes and weights, creating a beautifully simple uniform via text alone. Originally released by Danberry & Peignot in 1957, the family passed through the hands of the Haas Type Foundry before being purchased in 2007 (along with all of Linotype) by Monotype.

Helvetica

When Max Miedinger and Eduard Hoffmann created Helvetica in 1957, did they know their work would result in what is arguably the most ubiquitous sans serif typeface in the world? Probably not. Did they think, for just a moment, their typeface would inspire a film? Again, probably not. But here we are, nearly 60 years later, with an 88% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes, and Simon Garfield regarding Helvetica as “ubiquitous because it fulfills so many demands for modern type.”

The Designers

Ernst Keller, lovingly known as the “father of Swiss design.” The year is 1918 and Keller just received a teaching position at the Kunstgewerbeschule (literally translated “arts and crafts school”) in Switzerland. His teachings mark the beginning of the grid systems for which Swiss Style is known, and his belief that design should adapt to content placed focus on the importance of typefaces. Little did Keller know, some of his students would become the forefront runners in the creation of the International Typographic Style movement. Shall we call them the sons of Swiss Style?

Works by Ernst Keller/Images from MoMa

Armin Hofmann, along with Emil Ruder, founded the Schule für Gestaltung (School of Design) in 1947. Hofmann began teaching and was often regarded as unorthodox in his ways. Much of his work focused on elements of graphic form while remaining simple and objective. His compositions, having been influenced by Ernst Keller’s teachings, often made use of typography over illustration. Hofmann’s curriculum has been somewhat adapted, yet is still taught today at the School of Design in Basel, Switzerland.

Works by Armin Hofmann/Images from MoMa

Josef Müller-Brockmann, another student of Keller’s, heavily focused his work around the grid system and Akzidenz-Grotesk typeface. After taking over Keller’s teaching position at the Kunstgewerbeschule and later opening his own design firm, Müller-Brockmann helped spread the Swiss aesthetic far beyond the borders of Europe by establishing the Neue Grafik (New Graphic Design) journal—a trilingual magazine he co-edited with Franco Vivarelli, Hans Neuberg and Richard Paul Lohse.

Works by Josef Müller-Brockmann/Images from Design History

About 125 miles northeast of Hofmann and Ruder’s School of Design, Max Bill and Otl Aicher opened their own school in Ulm, Germany. Bill, who is known not only for his work as a designer, but also for his theoretical writings and connection to the Modern Movement, is often thought of as the most “decisive influence on Swiss graphic design.” His school in Ulm included courses in semiotics, or the study of signs and symbols. These teachings fell into step with the objectivity and readability of the International Typographic Style, which aims to create content that is easily recognized and understood by anyone who views it.

Works by Max Bill/Images from MoMA

Grids, sans serifs, and photos—oh my! Swiss Style has made its way around the world and continues to inspire artists and designers every day. Don’t believe me just yet? Just ask Cyrus Highsmith who tried to spend a day without Helvetica in New York City, only to realize that it was nearly impossible. The use of Helvetica might not define International Typographic Style, but its everywhere presence is a constant reminder of the impact those radical Swiss have in our everyday lives. Danke schön for making our lives a little more organized, guys.

Contorted flags! Familiar slab serifs! Unexpected pops of color! Stylized “2020s” galore!

As the 2020 Democratic presidential candidates battle it out on debate stages across the country … why should the Democratic candidate logos get off easy?

It’s time for a bracket!

Since there are 12 candidates left as of Jan. 29, things aren’t as tidy as an 8- or 16-team bracket, so we’re using a 12-team single-elimination bracket (pictured below). That means that four candidates get a bye for the first round. Using the latest polling data, we determined the top seeds—Biden, Sanders, Warren and Buttigieg—and the lineups of the first rounds in the tournament.

First up, we have:

Round 1: Tom Steyer vs. Tulsi Gabbard

Round 2: Mike Bloomberg vs. John Delaney

Round 3: Andrew Yang vs. Michael Bennet

Round 4: Amy Klobuchar vs. Deval Patrick

Voting on this round is open until Monday—at which point Biden, Sanders, Warren and Buttigieg will take on the winners. Forget politics for a moment, and focus on the best design (or maybe “better design” … or “least problematic” or …)

To the victor go the spoils!*

*There aren’t any spoils. Just highly subjective highfalutin design props.

Back Monday with the next round!

In the meantime, vote here:

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Dating back to 1940, Print‘s archive is vast, daunting and deep, and it’s an incredible visual wonderland to get lost in. We once spelunked into the stacks and emerged with an array of largely black-and-white design and printer ads from the 1950s, ranging from the absurd to the charming. Now, Print goes color: Here are the vintage graphic design ads from the ’60s—featuring the likes of Paul Rand and Bob Gill. Viewed back to back, the visual evolution in a single decade is stunning.

AIGA announced today that the organization has landed a new executive director: Bennie F. Johnson.

Johnson comes to the role following his most recent position as chief strategy officer of the Council of Better Business Bureaus—notable here for its chapter-based structure—where he oversaw strategic partnerships with the likes of Google, the FTC and Coca-Cola, and managed an enterprise-wide restructuring. Prior to that role, he served as chief global marketing/global business development officer of the HR Certification Institute, advisor to Kaleo Software, and director of marketing at other organizations.

According to AIGA, Johnson first connected with design through professor Robert Reed at Yale, where he earned his bachelor’s degree before pursuing his master’s in strategic communications at Columbia.

As he said in the official announcement, “I have been passionate about design as a part of innovation and creativity my entire life. … I’m drawn to organizations where I can play an active role leading and creating new modes of business and enterprise to inspire stronger visions for the future. Since AIGA is entering a new decade of growth, I am thrilled to join this organization where my educational background, professional experience and personal passions merge and align with the organization’s needs and vision.”

Based in Washington DC, Johnson also serves as chairman of the advisory board of the Smithsonian’s Anacostia Community Museum.

Alongside the AIGA board of directors, the firm Nonprofit HR assisted in the search for a new executive director, which began after Julie Anixter left the role in the summer of 2018. Anixter officially joined the AIGA in January 2016, following the departure of Richard Grefé, who served at the helm for two decades.

PRINT will be following up with more coverage soon. Stay tuned.

Under New Management

Printmag.com is Back—New Owners Continue to Publish

December 10, 2019—New York, NY—Today Print magazine, an online authority on graphic, interactive and brand design and their influences on visual culture, announces new ownership and its continued presence in the graphic arts industry. The Print brand and Printmag.com was acquired by Print Holdings LLC comprised of industry veterans, Debbie Millman, Steven Heller, Andrew Gibbs, Jessica Deseo, Deb Aldrich and Laura Des Enfants. The site will continue to publish its legacy site including up-to-date Daily Heller columns until 2020 when a new format will launch under the vision and guidance of this ownership team.

Print began publishing in 1940 as Print, A Quarterly Journal of the Graphic Arts led by William Edwin Rudge to demonstrate, in his words, the far-reaching importance of the graphic arts. And while Printwill continue to identify and analyze important trends, history and insights from thought leaders in the industry, the online magazine will begin to include an expanded 21st century view of design and its contribution to our world.

Print Holdings, LLC is comprised of a team of six industry professionals each bringing expertise to the table. This team holds expertise in design editorial and commentary; creating, building and running a successful web presence; and selling and implementing advertising and promotional opportunities for members of the creative professional community.

To reengage with Print visit www.Printmag.com. To learn more about advertising opportunities contact Deb Aldrich or Laura Des Enfants.

About Printmag.com

Print (founded 1940) is an iconic design and visual culture brand serving as the go-to industry resource for design dialogue and inspiration, design education, profiles of leading design minds and everything in between. Through a top-ranking website and social media platforms, The Daily Heller column, and one of the most well-respected design competitions in the industry—the Print Regional Design Awards—Print has been the leading authority on all things design today. Relaunched in 2020, Print continues to build a dialogue about design by detailing the intersections of art and culture. Rather than focusing on the how-to of design, Print’s content covers the why—why the world of design looks the way it does, how it has evolved, and why the way it looks matters

The Print brand and Printmag.com was acquired by Print Holdings LLC comprised of industry veterans, Debbie Millman (Design Matters), Steven Heller (The Daily Heller), Andrew Gibbs (Dieline), Jessica Deseo (Dieline), Deb Aldrich (D’NA Company) and Laura Des Enfants (D’NA Company). Together, this team is committed to offering the design industry a hub for inspiration, education and community, while remaining committed to Print’s original mission of commenting on, critiquing, discussing and documenting the work, thinking and business of design.

Hagit Kaufman, VP of Design at Wix, and head of the largest multidisciplinary in-house studio in Israel, sits down to chat with designer Frankie Ratford, the Founder and Creative Directive of The Design Kids, a global online resource and local offline community for thousands of student and graduate graphic designers. Frankie is returning guest speaker at the Wix Design Playground in NYC.

Frankie Ratford at the Playground

H: We loved having you at the Playground last year and are so happy to be working with you again!

F: Glad to be back at the Playground! Last year the students were super sweet and really switched on, you guys did a great job of selecting a varied bunch of designers with different strengths. I was there right at the end and it was great to see their Wix portfolios taking shape!

H: You’ve traveled the world to build a global community what are some of the challenges you encountered in doing so?

F: I’m struggling to answer this, it was too fun! I designed my job around everything I’m good at and nothing I’m bad at, so put me in a room with 500 strangers and I’m happy! I love meeting and connecting with designers, it’s fun and easy for me. The challenging thing would be to work and meet with people all the time – as always, we just need more time. Subtle cultural differences are super interesting but just listen and observe and then it’s fine.

H: You are so good with people and giving them the right advice about their professional path. What are some of the burning issues creatives face in this industry and how does this color the counsel that you give?

F: The top three are confidence, industry knowledge and business know-how. Starting with confidence: 100% of the people I meet struggle with “am I good enough,” and the answer is always YES! You just have to find your way and your own strengths, and not compare yourself to others. As for industry knowledge, that’s why I set up thedesignkids.org – a place where you can research everyone within this industry and learn what they do. And finally, for business know-how – I’m working on it! No one really has their act together, it is about having a great attitude, putting yourself out there and doing your best. The rest will follow.

F: In your opinion, how does the Playground bridge the gap between design education and a creative career?

H: That question gets exactly to the point of why we started the Playground in the first place! While design education has come a long way since I was a student, I really believe that creatives need a solid professional core before venturing into the real world. Designers need to bridge the gap between what they learn in school and how they ultimately forge a career with skills such as client relations, communication, and the ability to market their talent. Programs like The Design Kids and what we are doing with the Playground are good examples of creative, non-traditional types of learning experience.

F: During this program you share tons of knowledge on web design with the students – why is web design a crucial tool for any kind of designer?

H: A strong understanding of digital imaging and presence is key! For a designer, knowing how to create a beautiful site and understanding how it is consumed will help them grow immensely in the creative world.

F: What type of designers do you look for to work in your studio? What traits and skills do they need to be successful in tech?

H: In my opinion a good designer is a good designer! Our studio has incredible design experts in product, 3D, branding, architecture, fashion, and visual experts – some of who have never received a formal design education. Our designers all bring inspiration and talent to the larger creative collective. Designers are like olive oil – especially in tech – they bind everything together! Our designers exist in every element of our products. They bring to life every aspect of the product development and truly speak to our consumers, which is the most important thing!

Learn more about the Wix Design Playground now!