Massimo Vignelli, American Airline identity, 1967

Several years ago, VH1 changed their logo. We designed the previous one. The mark we created wasn’t flashy or wildly exciting. It was a simple and clear identifier. We added the words Music First into the mark to remind the audience, internal and external, that VH1 was about music, not Gallagher specials. The solution worked, the network had clarity and focus. Ratings increased dramatically, not because the logo was good, but because the new programming was great. Like Paul Rand said, “A good logo can never make a bad product good. But it can make a good product spectacular.”

When the next iteration of the logo (after ours) was launched, several magazines asked for my opinion of the new one. At the time, I answered diplomatically, “I don’t know the business reasons or criteria for the change, so I can’t comment on the success or failure of the new version.” Well, that was dumb. Now a decade later, I look at the backwards 1/leaf version and can say, “WTF? Ugly.”

American Airlines just changed their identity. I appreciated Massimo’s honesty about the redesign, and I agree. Massimo’s mark is simple, clear, and timeless. It will be relevant another 50 years from now. Why does every corporation now think they need a logo that looks like a internet company in 1999? Most importantly, however, is the fact that the tens of millions of dollars spent on implementation could have been used to save and create jobs. Our role as designers is to help our clients succeed. This means they keep employees, hire people, expand, and provide higher wages. Something shiny and new will never be better than that.

Massimo Vignelli, American Airline ID, 1967

Massimo Vignelli, American Airlines logo, 1967

Futurebrand, American Airlines logo, 2013

Futurebrand, American Airlines logo, 2013

AdamsMorioka, VH1 logo, 1998

The post AdamsMorioka VH1 logo

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Burton Kramer, Ontario Place, 1971

When Graphis did a story on us soon after we started the firm, we said, “We’re interested in making a good cake, not just nice icing.” Since we were both 29 years old and too cocky we thought this was incredibly clever. A few years later at a conference, a designer came up to me and said, “Yeah, I saw that article in Graphis. Everyone at my firm hates you. And you stole that quote from Burton Kramer.” Back then, I was still under the impression that I should remain polite and try to understand what was really driving this criticism. Now I would I simply say “Go to hell you mother@#$%ing mother@#$%er @#$%face.

Burton Kramer, 1972

In reality, Burton Kramer had said this in 1972. But, in my defense, I didn’t know this. I love Kramer’s work. Today, we get mired in post-modern analysis of irony, pastiche, and contradiction. Kramer’s solutions are so crystal clear and cutting. They are rational, perfect, simple, and elegant. But they are never cold, or without a sense of the human touch. The Canadian Broadcasting Company logo is complex and precise, but is optimistic and about infinite possibilities. Kramer’s identity programs are sublime. They are a testament to a time when designers had the time and skill to fine tune every tiny detail, as opposed to some of the slapdash icons created from a batch of Illustrator shapes. When I look through Kramer’s new book, I find the most difficult issues is to not inadvertently steal more of his wisdom.

Burton Kramer, Canadian Broadcasting Company, 1974

Burton Kramer, Canadian Broadcasting Company, 1974

Burton Kramer, Canadian Broadcasting Company, 1974

Burton Kramer, OECA, 1971

Burton Kramer, 10th Annual Sculpture Conference, 1978

Burton Kramer, Canadian Parliament Book, 1970

Burton Kramer, Northwestern Ontario, 1972

Burton Kramer, Design Canada, 1972

Burton Kramer, ROM, 1968

Burton Kramer, NOMA packaging, 1972

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AdamsMorioka, 20th Anniversary poster, 2012

I imagine being an interior designer is a hard job. So many people seem to have revolting taste. How do you tell a client that the orange deep shag carpeting and gold columns are tacky? As graphic designers, we face the same issue with typography. I’ve worked with clients who have the most beautifully designed offices, filled with Mies van der Rohe and Eames furniture. But, they invariably pull out a horrible piece of typography and suggest that for the logo. It isn’t the client’s fault; they don’t have the same OCD issues around a correct serif resolution that we do.

For my entire career, I’ve been a typographic purist. We managed to maintain with a handful of tried and true standards. We avoided trendy fonts and anything slightly degenerated or techno. In the past year, however, things have changed. We recently used ITC Avant Garde as a starting point on a wordmark. We re-purchased it, because I deleted it from every computer a decade ago. Last week, I designed a poster for our twentieth anniversary with ITC Bookman Swash Italic. What’s next, clown outfits for everyone at the studio? Linen paper?!

Once, when a client showed me a brochure with Avant Garde, I explained that this was the same as wall-to-wall green shag carpeting. Alternatively, Univers was a fine, tasteful, and well-made area rug. If I’ve accepted ITC Bookman, have I moved into liking Harvest Gold appliances? Is that so wrong? Perhaps the severity of my rules needs to be examined.

Ed Benguiat, ITC Bookman Italic

United Airlines advertisement, Bookman Italic 1965

United Airlines advertisement, Bookman Italic

United Airlines advertisement, Bookman Italic 1965

Walt Disney World Pirates of the Caribbean sign, Bookman, 1973

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Our cool and hip nude poster

Every once in awhile, I get a hankerin’ to be taken seriously. I’ll see a critical theory article that deconstructs one of my friends’ work and think, “Maybe I should be doing that kind of work.” Envy is a terrible and pointless emotion. But then, I remember our mission. When we started AdamsMorioka in 1993, we wanted to go the opposite direction. There was so much desperate work then that screamed, “I’m serious! I have no sense of humor. I am only intendsed to be understood by a select group of intellectual theorists.” Noreen and I wanted to be the Beach Boys, not Bauhaus (the band), Rodgers and Hammerstein, not Karen Finley Tracy and Hepburn, not Lenya and Weill, or Steven Speilberg, not Luis Buñuel. This doesn’t mean we’re anti-intellectual, or don’t admire artists who push limits. We love things that are way out of the park. And we refuse to deny anyone the right to create whatever they desire. So,what does this mean?

Ed Fella said it best when he called our work American Pragmatism. It’s about being plain spoken and honest, not fancy and oblique. Maybe it’s because we’re both from the West and can’t think differently. We’re interested in speaking to the broadest audience possible, making life a little better for them, and treating every other designer with respect and dignity. We aren’t interested in excluding or demonizing others because they do work unlike ours. Everyone deserves to be celebrated and revered.

Now the funny part of this is that we both came out of a deeply theoretical education at CalArts. We can subvert, deconstruct, and pastiche with the best of them, but we do it with stealth. As long as the form is seductive, appealing, and aesthetic, we can pour in as much meaning  or contradiction as needed. But, we’re human. When someone at a conference says, “You’re so funny. Everything you do is so cute.” This feels minimizing and I’m tempted to do that oblique and complex poster of Noreen and I in the nude that nobody understands. Then I remember why we like plain and honest, something that has optimism and joy. So I leave you with these sentiments:

“Good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment.” — Will Rogers

 “The world belongs to you as much as the next fellow. Don’t give it up.” — Rodgers and Hammerstein

 “T-shirts, cut-offs, and a pair of thongs. We’ve been having fun all summer long.” — Beach Boys

 “ET phone home.” —Steven Spielberg

Beach Boys: yes

Karen Finley, not so much like us

Rodgers and Hammerstein: we like

Bauhaus: we loved them in the 80s, but not really us

Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn: more like us

Lotte Lenya and Kurt Weill, cool, but not AM

Steven Spielberg (Empire of the Sun): optimistic and friendly

Luis Buñuel, Un Chien Andalou, slicing eyes isn't our thing

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AdamsMorioka, Managing the Design Process by Terry Stone, book cover

There is a rather severe difference of opinion about using a cliché in the design world. I like them. They are clichés because we all understand them. As long as the idea is presented in an unexpected way, it’s all good with me. An arrow is cliché. “Oh, Sean,” I’ve heard, “Arrows are so 20th-century.” But, why be oblique and complicated when it is so easy to point someone in the right direction?

Arrows are wonderful because they are symbols that command. The viewer is not being asked, “Would you prefer to turn right, perhaps?” An arrow screams, “TURN RIGHT! TURN NOW!” How many other symbols can do that? Lester Beall introduced me to the wonderful world of arrows. Not, Lester, personally, but through Lou Danziger’s vast historical knowledge. At a time when design was racing faster toward more is more with less and less clarity, the arrow was a revelation. The zeitgeist of that time was , “make less with more.” I wanted to make more with less (follow me? More meaning, less stuff.). I could put an arrow on a poster next to a headline and the viewer would read this first. Who knew?

Unfortunately, arrows are a temptation. Like all wonderful things, too much is not good. Judicious usage is needed. As Groucho Marx said: “Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.”

Mieczlaw Berman, collage, 1927

Herbert Bayer, sketch for a poster, 1923

Kurt Schwitters, Cover of Merz 11, 1924

Jan Tschichold, film poster Napoleon, 1927

Lester Beall, Poster for Rural Electrification Agency, 1937

Lester Beall, spread from PM magazine, 1937

Max Huber, poster for a race, 1948

Giovanni Pintori, poster for Olivetti, 1956

Paul Rand, poster, 1965

Shigeo Fukuda, poster for his work, 1971

Tadanoori Yokoo, poster for concert, 1963

Paul Rand, poster, 1948

Paul Rand, Cumins Annual Report, 1976

Chermayeff & Geismar, SeaTrain logo, 1960s

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