Will Burtin, Fortune magazine, detail, 1947

Sometimes, too much is not enough. This may seem contradictory to the typical badgering I do about minimalism. The point of minimalism is to use only what is needed and nothing more. And there are instances where quite a bit is needed. A few years ago I went to Hallmark in Kansas City to give a talk. On the tour of the headquarters, I saw the remarkable diorama Alexander Girard designed. Now, I typically, am not a big fan of cute Victorian paper dolls and tiny shoes. But in this context they sure looked good. Mary Blair was genius at combining multiple forms into a cohesive whole.

Alexander Girard, exhibition case, Hallmark headquarters

Mary Blair, mural design

That same skill is evident in a feature Will Burtin designed for Fortune magazine in 1947. This is why the Burtin spreads work: First, there is a clear and strong grid structure. The elements work proportionately with each other. Second, Burtin uses scale to create drama and pacing. The cigar Indian is huge, while the huckster person is small. There are tiny and huge elements. Third, the pages are not a sea of rectangles, or as we like to say, “do not make that look like the wonderful world of rectangles.” Images are silhouetted, odd shapes, or trompe l’oeil. And finally, the color and typography are simple, consistent, and minimal.

However, beware of the temptation here. As you can see, it can be easy to become promiscuous with imagery. You don not want to be a layout slut, adding as many varieties of images and shapes as possible. 

Will Burtin, Fortune magazine spread, 1947

Will Burtin, Fortune magazine spread, 1947

Will Burtin, Fortune magazine spread, 1947

Will Burtin, Fortune magazine spread, 1947

Will Burtin, Fortune magazine spread, 1947

Will Burtin, Fortune magazine spread, 1947

Will Burtin, Fortune magazine spread, 1947

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Alexander Girard, Santa Fe house, kitchen, 1953

Years ago, I saw a documentary, 901: After 45 Years of Working. This documentary follows the archiving of the Eames studio, as its contents were packed for shipping to the Smithsonian, after Ray’s death. It’s incredible, of course. A lifetime of collecting is carefully organized in flat files and boxes. There are flat files filled with thimbles, another drawer of round shells, another with buttons, pieces of kimono fabric, spoons, pebbles, Victorian cards, and anything else you might consider collecting. After an hour of drawers, drawers and more drawers, and boxes of stuff, I found myself getting edgy. Yes, it’s incredible, but stop the archiving, get a Hefty bag.

I bought the new Alexander Girard book by Todd Oldham and Kiera Coffee. I expected a nice comprehensive publication of Girard’s work, not another catalogue of cute Girard blocks and merchandise. And it is exactly that: smart, comprehensive, beautiful, and well printed. The book is enormous. I felt sorry for the UPS dude. It’s almost as big as the coffee table, is 672 pages, and weighs 15 pounds. It is comprehensive and spectacular.

Girard’s house in Santa Fe is overwhelming. Here, more is not enough. The colors and textures are playful and exuberant. There isn’t a detail overlooked. It gave me permission to paint a mural in the hall, or put out every Mexican and Japanese folk art item I own. Like the Eames studio, there is a lot of stuff. And when there isn’t an object, he paints the surface to invoke a landscape. I was especially interested in the mural that looks exactly like It’s a Small World. Was it zeitgeist? Did Mary Blair visit and copy him? Did he copy from Mary Blair’s drawings? Who cares? It’s extraordinary.

Images from Alexander Girard, by Todd Oldham and Keira Coffee, and the Library of Congress

Alexander Girard, Santa Fe house, kitchen, 1953

Alexander Girard, Santa Fe house, kitchen, 1953

Alexander Girard, Santa Fe house, kitchen, 1953

Alexander Girard, Santa Fe house, kitchen, 1953

Alexander Girard, Santa Fe house, 1953

Alexander Girard, Santa Fe house, 1953

Alexander Girard, Santa Fe house, patio, 1953

Alexander Girard, Santa Fe house, drawing for mural, 1953

Alexander Girard, Santa Fe house, mural, 1953

Alexander Girard, Santa Fe house, mural, 1953

It's a Small World, Disneyland, 1964

Alexander Girard by Todd Oldham and Keira Coffee

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PSA Annual Report, 1967

In the 1960s, Branniff Airlines had a groovy thing going on. Alexander Girard designed a great program that made every other airline look boring and sad. But one little company was leaving Branniff in the dust regarding grooviness. Pacific Southwest Airlines was a regional airline on the west coast. Many of us remember the PSA planes with the smile on the front. But do you remember the super-fine uniforms and graphics? Today, I fly American Airlines exclusively. Their uniforms are clean and professional. My sister is an American Airlines flight attendant, and once I mention that on-board, the other flight attendants are extra nice. I guess it’s good to project a business atmosphere on a plane. However, the PSA uniforms are so incredible and bright. Of course, they didn’t project a business atmosphere, unless it was businessmen watching women pole-dancing.

To learn more about PSA, Chris Laborde has a fantastic site dedicated to all things PSA.

PSA uniforms

PSA cabin

PSA uniform

PSA uniforms

PSA in-flight magazine

PSA in-flight magazine

PSA in-flight magazine

PSA in-flight magazine

PSA ticket folders

PSA ticket folders

PSA ticket folders

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Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, 1960

When I start talking about identity design, everyone loses his or her sense of humor. “Logos? That’s no laughing matter,” is the tone. There’s no room for funny in logo design or ID systems. Don’t you people understand this is a serious business? Of course it’s serious business. It’s the cornerstone and foundation of a company’s communications plan. But does that mean every logo should be a hard lined box with a tortured letterform, and a system with a vertical blue bar on every piece of collateral? I would say, “No.” Communications should engage and delight. That applies to identity design as well as a website, brochure, or signage program.

A great example of this approach is Alexander Girard’s design for La Fonda del Sol restaurant. In 1960, Restaurant Associates hired Girard to oversee all elements from the logo to the plates. Located in the Time & Life building in New York, La Fonda del Sol embraced the international ambitions of Rockefeller Center. Girard’s identity is varied and uses a multiple set of icons. What, you say, more than one logo? Was he mad? I don’t know about Girard’s psychological health, but it works for me. The restaurant paired the hand-made, craft of Mexico with a high-end and cosmopolitan tone. The solution was years ahead of a tongue-in-cheek tone now used by Jet Blue and Virgin Air. I especially like the newspaper ad that reads, “Will the lady who lost her composure during Fiesta at La Fonda del Sol please come back this Sunday?” I’m not so sure about the completely non-politically correct Siesta ad.

Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, logo, 1960

Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, menu, 1960

Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, matches, 1960

Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, 1960

Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, logo, 1960

Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, 1960

Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, 1960

Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, ladies room, 1960

Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, a guy and the room, 1960

Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, cool wall thing, 1960

Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, table setting, 1960

Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, 1960

La Fonda del Sol, non PC ad, 1960

Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, newspaper ads, 1960

Alexander Girard, La Fonda del Sol, ceramics, 1960

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Stop the "My Best Friend" music

Many of you have written and asked, “Sean, I find your color sense excellent. How can I acquire this skill?” This is not an easy question to answer. As far as I can tell, any color works with any other color. All that information about primary, complementary, and tertiary colors is nonsense. Although you should know it, so buy my color book.

To prove this point, look at the color palette in Airport 1975. Fuchsia and brown: why not? Lavender and magenta: of course! Butter yellow and violet: go for it. Why can’t airplanes look like this anymore? Everything is so “business professional” with navy blue and gray.

I want flight attendants in violet, and wall hangings made of carpet in intense colors. I want that groovy first class lounge upstairs on a 747 with an “autumnal” palette of browns and oranges. Alexander Girard did a fantastic job on Braniff (to be covered on another post), but he wasn’t brave enough to throw brights, pastels, and earth tones together in a crazy jumble. And finally, all airline companies should stop with the boarding music or Gershwin, or the American Airlines soundtrack. They should play Helen Reddy’s rendition of “Best Friend” repeatedly. This alone will make anyone who is frightened to fly desperate for the plane to take off and stop the music.

the swatches

a good airplane interior

More carpet on walls

Chuck Heston keeps a carpet wall hanging at his house

Karen Black, No. 1 attendant, is allowed to wear brown

all air-traffic controllers wear fuscia to work

where are those Dixie cups?!

Helen Reddy's best friend

where can I buy a carpet wall hanging?

beige and warm red are never wrong

lavender, magenta, and red make a relaxing trip

Helen Reddy's Best Friend

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