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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Matthew Liebowitz, H.L. Mencken Speaking, 1958

I’ve spent a lot of time in airports and on American Airlines flights. Like everyone else on earth, I hate when people insist on a conversation. On one flight, the woman next to me talked about her affair, her husband’s affair, how hot the steward was, and why she hated her children. Another time, the flight attendant spilled an entire can of beer on my lap. She was horrified and deeply apologetic, but it was an accident so no big deal. Unfortunately, it meant flying from JFK to LAX and smelling like I was at a frat party. The guy next to me told me every story he had about spilling liquids (wow that was exciting), and then asked if I wanted some underwear from his overnight bag (oi!).

My favorite was a woman who was a famous gospel singer who was flying back from Chicago after being on Oprah. She talked about her upcoming wedding plans for three hours. After three vodka tonics, she became quite friendly and repeatedly said, “Why you are so cute. Let me give you just one kiss.” I reminded her that her fiancé was waiting to pick her up.

As obnoxious as chattering is on airplanes, it’s a good design device. Unless you implant one of those little audio chips, however, you need alternative ways to do this. I love quotation marks. I love talk bubbles. Both are incredible symbols that everyone understands, “Oh, that means someone is talking.” One of my all time favorite solutions is Matthew Liebowitz’s cover for H.L. Mencken Speaking. A single bad image of the author and an uncomfortable composition is brought to life with three pieces of simple punctuation. And, to make it even better, Mencken isn’t speaking. If he were photographed speaking, the cover would be too obvious and make us wonder what he is saying specifically and individually. The closed mouth leads us to hear all of his words.

Sean Adams, Mohawk Show 7

Bradbury Thompson, Westvaco

Doyle, Dane, Bernbach, Better Vision Institute ad

Paula Scher, Public Theater

Synergisms, protest poster, 1971

Lou Dorfsman, CBS ad, 1958

Henry Wolf, Harpers Bazaar, 1958

Gene Frederico, D. Lisner and Co.

Abram Gaines, Silence poster, 1943

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Herbert Bayer, Sommer Blumen, 1933

When I was a young designer, Lou Danziger showed me a booklet designed by Herbert Bayer. It took my breath away. Bayer used a Trompe-l’œil effect to simulate a collection of flowers on top of an open spread. This was one of those moments similar to noticing the arrow in the FedEx logo. It was as if a light had been turned on and the world looked entirely different. The page isn’t a 2-dimensional form? It’s a window into a 3-dimensional world? Who knew?

Clearly Bayer knew this. He used the Trompe-l’œil effect on other pieces including a Nazi propaganda piece in 1936. Paul Rand used the effect on a cover for American Apparel magazine beautifully. I’ve attempted to incorporate this idea into several pieces. Usually someone pipes up and says, “Is that some dirt on the page? What is that? Is that a bug?” Then last night when I was on press with Cedars-Sinai’s Discoveries magazine, my wish was granted. The editor, Laura Grunberger worked with us to create settings for a story on inspiration and new medical devices. In the midst of the press check, I was upset that someone had written on the press sheet before me. But, no, it was part of the effect of the setting. What joy.

Images from the Lou Danziger Collection

Herbert Bayer, Sommer Blumen, 1933

Herbert Bayer, Sommer Blumen, 1933

Herbert Bayer, Letterhead, 1939

Herbert Bayer, Deutschland Ausstellung, 1936

Paul Rand, American Apparel magazine cover, 1939

Paul Rand, Kaufmann's Department Store ad, 1947

AdamsMorioka. Cedars-Sinai Discoveries magazine detail, 2011

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Louis Danziger, Condi

For the past week I’ve been cranky, very, very cranky. There was a guy at the locker below mine at the gym who was getting dressed slowly and staring at the wall while I waited to get into my locker. I restrained myself from slamming him against the wall. Driving home yesterday, a minivan with the stickers of the family cut me off twice before deciding to turn right from a left hand lane. I wanted to follow them and drag the driver from the car. And I seem to be getting the message that no good deed goes unpunished repeatedly. Clearly less coffee is in order. I am then reminded that some of my heroes are the most patient and compassionate people I know.

Most Mondays at Art Center, I see Lou Danziger working with a student in the Faculty Dining room. He is doing the same thing with patience and invaluable help that he did with me when I was in school. Back then, I thought, “That makes sense, I’ll try that.” Now I realize how fortunate I was to work with Lou. It seems that there are two courses that you can follow as a designer. You can become increasingly bitter and angry and deride younger designers, or you can give back, mentor others, and champion younger designers. Lou clearly chose to be a mentor. I’m at that fork in the road where I need to make that choice. Perhaps I will choose to be a good mentor to designers, but a serious a-hole to people on the street.

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AIGA 1962

A few months ago, I posted some of the remarkable awards Lou Danziger gave me. We’ve considered framing them and putting them on our conference wall. It would look very impressive. But, a potential client might not understand how we won an award in 1962. A young woman, who was showing Noreen her portfolio, asked her if her father had started AdamsMorioka with me. So I guess I could pass for winning these, and Noreen could be the younger daughter of my original business partner.

I’ve always thought it was somewhat cheesy to have a wall of awards. We like to take the stance of, “We won’t boast.” We put our awards in a filing cabinet somewhere. If they were as beautiful as Lou’s was, though, I’d pull them up and fill a wall. Or maybe I’ll just use Lou’s and place them too high to read clearly.

AIGA 1970

AIGA Membership

Art Director's Club of Chicago

CA 1963

Art Directors Club of Los Angeles

Art Directors Club of Los Angeles, 1956

Art Directors Club of Los Angeles

New York Art Directors Club 1960

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