Response - week 3

In reading William Owens' Modern Magazine Design, I was struck both by how many design styles I took to be fairly modern innovations have, in fact, been around since almost the beginning, as well as by how early magazine design began to evolve and grow from newspaper and book design. Although this example from the December 2010 issue of Esquire does not adhere to many of the punk style elements of the '70s and '80s, it does use and reinterpret several. Owen explicitly notes both the use of typewriter type rather than digitally set type as an element of punk as well as a renewed appreciation for pop art. Although surely Esquire set this typewriter type with a computer, the intent is the same; it defies the standard of beautiful design in favor of a found aesthetic. Similarly, the photos look unremarkable to fit in with the desired style, and they are not given dominance over the text as they would be were this a standard, modern design in many consumer publications. Instead, they are written on and placed haphazardly on the page. Even though punk used mismatched type, the DIY look of the handwritten type in this spread follows a similar train of thought. The hand-drawn sketches in conjunction with the display type and highlighter accents create the image of a sketchbook rather than a slickly designed magazine. Although Esquire is certainly not calling directly upon the punk style of design, the visual elements of this spread can be seen as an evolution from it, if a highly commercialized version (which is confusing).

Don't Miss This vol. 3

It's all coming full circle, pun soon-to-be-not intended. This week, Eye stole my thunder and discussed movie title sequences — Dr. No and Vertigo to be precise. As you might have guessed, I love title sequences when they're done well. In the blog post, Eye's author analyzes how the titles forecast the content of the movie and tone of the movie. Dr. No, being a Bond (based on the tone and content of Hitchcock's North by Northwest), is light and dynamic. Vertigo is much more complicated (than just about every movie in just about every way, but that's another discussion altogether). The titles are superimposed over a woman's face, which lays the groundwork for the movie's discussion of voyeurism/scopophilia and what Hitchcock didn't know at the time would be called The Male Gaze. For those who haven't seen Vertigo, first of all, borrow it from me. You might not (probably won't) like it, but I do. A lot. Secondly, one of the major points of the film is that Scottie (James Stewart) is obsessed with a woman (Kim Novak) and follows and watches her; he falls in love with the image of her. Later in the film, after SPOILER ALERT she dies, he searches for her replacement and ultimately reshapes that woman to fit the exact visual mold of the first. This is all relevant because the design of the titles informs the learned audience member (film scholar, even) that these themes are of utmost significance to the movie. Furthermore, the Vertigo titles are significant because, despite their seemingly cheesy spirograph effect, they employ an early form of the psychedelic aesthetic that is echoed (cheesily, again) later in a dream sequence. Although it might seem poorly done, keep in mind that Vertigo was released in 1958, about a decade before the psychedelic look took hold.


This discussion segues nicely into my love of Saul Bass. He and Hitchcock are probably the two visual storytellers I admire most (although Stanley Kubrick has certainly moved up the ladder). The two men collaborated on the visuals of several of Hitchcock's films, including the aforementioned Vertigo and North by Northwest as well as Psycho. He is probably most famous for his Anatomy of a Murder poster, for which he also designed the opening titles.

I love the flat graphic style that he uses in this and many of his other title sequences and movie posters. It is singularly his and a beautiful example of pop art that (in my opinion) clearly draws at least a little bit from other highbrow artists such as Matisse and Rothko.














I also love the titles to Charade, which Saul Bass designed:


And the Catch Me If You Can titles, which draw upon a similar style to Bass':

Critique - Week 3

In light of our new logo project, I thought I would critique an old logo prototype for the Terrafugia Transition. There were several elements to consider in creating this logo, and it required me to think as an advertiser rather than a journalist. With logos, we are defining the visual branding of a product or organization, and the style needs to appeal to the target consumer or affected audience. In this case, the Transition is the world's first roadable airplane, which can be referred to colloquially as a flying car because it can both drive roads and fly. The target market was very, very wealthy, middle-aged men who enjoyed recreation and aviation. In my logo, I tried to reflect the freedom provided by the vehicle by giving a flightless bird (the body is modeled after the Looney Toons road runner) the flighted wings of an eagle or hawk. Below is a close up of the logo:

Initially, the two legs were much larger in an effort to create a T shape of the body to go with the F shape of the head for Terrafugia, but their size was reduced in order to create a more logical scale for the legs. Furthermore, I de-emphasized the T and F because it was not as strong a visual puzzle as needed to be memorable (as with the Fedex logo). I also gave the wing a more streamlined look (in a previous draft it was more curved and elongated with curved white lines rather than the straighter ones in the final version) to suggest the futuristic nature of the vehicle.

There were a few key concepts I was grappling with in creating the logo. The primary motivation behind the logo and subsequent ad campaign elements was the concept of freedom. The vehicle allowed maximum freedom; you can literally get up and fly at will because you have an airplane parked in your garage. As such, the bald eagle imagery and color palette were emphasized in the logo because it is a bird that most Americans directly associate with freedom and masculinity. After that, there was the necessity to suggest the actual product with the logo, which is accomplished through the pairing of a bird with a tire (the legs form a tire in a subtle-yet-not-subtle way). The logo also had to convey that the product was futuristic but also luxurious. Instead of turning to '80s sci-fi fonts and The Terminator, I looked instead at high-end car logos (specifically Ferrari and Cadillac with the ducks). The end result is sleek without being finicky. That is to say, it's not feminized in any way (in my opinion, obviously).

Another consideration that is important from an execution standpoint is the varied uses of the logo. If this is to be used in print media (in magazines as well as business cards, letterheads, etc.), it had to be scalable (clearly distinguishable even when made smaller) and look nice in print. As many of my fellow designers are discovering, the image on the screen is always better and more vibrant than it is in print. Depending on the type of paper, quality of printer, etc., the vibrancy and contrast of a screen-friendly logo can be minimized, so dual-use design is a must if it is be used in both print and digital media.

Don't Miss This vol. 2A

I have often said that the first thing I would do if I won the lottery would be to buy movie posters. And, although I am frequently sarcastic, on this topic I am very serious (as a heart attack, you might say).

My current obsessions are the alternate Black Swan posters, which are breathtakingly exquisite. Before I saw (and loved) the movie, I had to have these posters. They're beautiful and devilishly smart, which is not to say that the standard poster is not also quite incredible, just that these are wholly remarkable. I would have been shattered if the movie had been so offensive to my tastes that I could not bring myself to purchase the posters. If anyone is looking to buy me a birthday present (March 3rd, just sayin'), a gift of any of these posters would be met with tears of joy and speechlessness. I've said enough, here they are:

In other poster news, I bought the poster for The Warriors today after the snow acted as catalyst for a screening with my roommate. I enjoyed it the first time I saw it and this most recent screening. My roommate was similarly enthralled and, upon learning that it was based on the Greek myth Anabasis, has decided to write an action movie screenplay based on the Norse myth of Ragnarok. I can't wait. Either way, here is the poster that I purchased today:

It's simple, and I'm not sure whether it was given a lot of thought (although the painting is quite detailed). I just find the style to be very appealing in that it's much cleaner and less flashy than today's movie posters. The tag at the top reads, "These are the armies of the night. They are 100,000 strong. They outnumber the cops five to one. They could run New York City. Tonight they're all out to get the Warriors." It's a brilliantly succinct summary of a brilliant premise for a movie. It isn't done up with bells and whistles (e.g. "You just killed a helicopter ... with a car!"), but it works very well for what it tries to accomplish. We gave it five stars on Netflix.

At the poster sale, I asked the cashier if they had the one-sheet French Lolita poster that they used to sell. I have one in my apartment, but Lando (Catrissian), my roommate's cat, tore off the corner. The cashier said they didn't carry it anymore, but commented that my Warriors poster was a similar time period. Historically, culturally and certainly cinematically, 1962 and 1979 are dramatically different time periods. The same holds true for design, but that's another blog post for another day. That said, it's a good segue into my other most coveted movie poster at the moment: the Italian Lolita poster. The French version I have is the standard "How did they ever make a film out of Lolita?" poster with the heart-shaped sunglasses and the red lollipop. The Italian one, however, is dramatically different and enthralling.

The text is the first line of the first chapter (as I recall). In Italian, it reads:

Era Lo,

Null'altro che Lo

Al mattino

Dritta nella sua statura

Di un metro e cinquantotto

Con un calzino soltanto.

Era Dolly

A scuola.

Era Dolores

Sulla linea punteggiata

Dei documenti.

Ma nelle mie braccia

Fu sempre Lolita.

For whatever reason, the poetry of the Italian language (as my old Italian professor described it) makes this line much more dramatic than the English version of Nabakov's words (which is obviously a hard feat).

I'm done gushing over posters for now. Check in later for more.

Can't Miss This vol. 2

In this week's installment of Can't Miss This, I'm taking a look at Eye magazine's discussion of the poster on the Piccadilly line in London. The writer loves the poster, and explains that it makes riding that leg of the tube much friendlier and helpful because it places the line in the context of above-ground London.

Although I understand her perspective, I have to disagree. To me, it looks a few steps up from a standard, tacky tourist map, and it seems very cluttered from the images posted on the blog. The beauty of public transportation maps, and I'm assuming the Piccadilly line also follows suit, is how similarly they explain the same information. In my time studying abroad in Italy and travelling through Europe, I was able to navigate any city easily because, by and large, subway maps are all the same.

Milan:

Paris:

London:

Berlin:

Being from Chicago (Skokie, actually), these maps make complete sense to me even if I don't speak the language (I'm looking at you, German) because they look and function just like the El maps in Chicago.

Information graphics should function first as information and secondarily as art. The beauty of these public transportation maps is their sameness. They all transcend language and communicate visually in a way that all people who know cities can understand.

On a less serious note, during the past couple days of snowed-in-ness (I'm phoning the Oxford dictionary people right now to petition for snowed-in-ness to be considered part of the English language), I've had a chance to bum around and Netflix the hours away with my roommate. This evening, we stumbled upon the 1991-92 season of Saturday Night Live (which, incidentally, had a powerhouse cast, including Mike Myers, Chris Rock, Dana Carvey, Chris Farley, Adam Sandler, Kevin Nealon and others), and the opening sketch was Wayne's World, in which Wayne and Garth analyzed the "Best and Worst of the Summer of '91." Included in this was the Best Magazine Cover.

Wayne: Best Magazine Cover. Demi Moore on the August Vanity Fair. We applaud her for her tasteful display of natural beauty. We thought it was very appropriate.

Wayne and Garth: [in unison] NOT

Wayne: Hey, hey, hey Demi Moore, how 'bout a little Demi less? I mean, we don't have to see it.

Garth: No offense, or nothin', no offense or nothin', but she uh, she uh looked pregnant.

Wayne: You have an astute command of the obvious.

The cover they're talking about, of course, is the famous VF cover with a nude, pregnant Demi Moore pictured below:

As designers, I feel it should be our goal to at least once have a cover we design get made fun of on SNL. I know it's one of mine. That said, if we're getting too much national attention, we're probably not doing a good job.

Response - Week 2

This week, I'm going to discuss the selection process for the Spring Preview mock-ups. There were several excellent options. I was especially impressed with Michelle Pais' and Theresa Berens', both of which were extremely polished and refined. Unfortunately, in an attempt to spread the design opportunities (because there are so few with so many designers), the feature was divided into cover (Allison Heisdorffer), splash page (me) and calendar pages (Haleigh Castino). This is not to suggest that Allison and Haleigh did not create excellent options — they did, and this is certainly much of the reason theirs were chosen. That said, Michelle's and Theresa's were eliminated in large part because their ideas were so singular and separate conceptually from the rest of the options, which made it impossible to marry their idea with any of the rest. This is a problem that is likely unique to this issue because there is no central theme other than the season, which we were told to avoid altogether. For future feature/cover pairings, the story will be much more focused and I don't see this being an issue. For the time being, I would just like to assure everyone that, even though your designs were not chosen for publications, many of them were incredible and make great portfolio pieces.

Critique - Week 2

This week we were tasked with designing the cover, splash page and inside calendar of the Spring Preview feature for Vox. Having been a part of Vox in some capacity for a while now, I have seen my share of Spring, Summer and Fall Preview issues, so I was fairly familiar with the style we typically use. When we were given the command to avoid any and all seasonal imagery, it certainly created a bit more of a challenge in addition to greater opportunity. After all, there's only so much that can be done with rain and blossoming foliage.

That said, and after much deliberation, I settled on robots. The idea spawned in part from our Editor Kelsey's (probably somewhat flippant) suggestion that the preview be planet-themed. Spinning off from that idea, and being inspired by what might be my favorite movie poster ever, I landed upon robots. As Theresa Berens alluded to in an earlier comment, my passion is movies and, perhaps to a greater extent, movie posters. The poster I used for inspiration was that of Forbidden Planet, the big-budget sci-fi adaptation of Shakespeare's The Tempest. It is pictured below.

What resulted was this cover, splash page and opening spread:

The cover took most of my time, and all the rest of the elements derive from the initial design. When I finished, I was fairly satisfied with the outcome (and very relieved to be finished). I have no formal graphic design training, so I generally don't like making illustrations because I'm rarely satisfied with what I've created. They are an incredible time-sink, and I have difficulty determining a good stopping point; I have to walk the fine line between overly simplistic images and overly detailed. Essentially, I have difficulty establishing an intentional style. With this, however, I felt that I had a strong visual style because I wasn't pulling from the ether but from a mid-20th century low-culture representation of the future and outer space. As I worked my way through the design, I started to veer away from Forbidden Planet and landed more in the territory of The Jetsons, but overall it has the cohesive, retro-futuristic feel I was going for.

One complaint several people had during the critique was that my original splash page was difficult to understand because the robot's head was on its side. Being chest-deep in the design of the robots, this is something that never occurred to me because it was obviously the robot. Looking at it from a distance, however, I understand the concern. Additionally there was at least one complaint that the inside spread did not fit with the rest of the design, which I disagree with. Traditionally, the sidebars and pull-out blurbs in preview features have been the same shape as opposed to the burst and the Jetsonian television set. The televisions, despite not being present on the cover or splash page, echo the retro-futuristic aesthetic that I mentioned earlier as well as the the screens on each robot's chest.

Of course, I'm glad that my design idea was chosen to be a part of the feature, and I feel that the final product is a big improvement over the original set of three. My cover concept was transformed into the splash page and married with Haleigh Castino's gears concept for the inside of the preview. Here is the final splash page: