I went to college at the height of the anti-modernist, semantic, deconstruction period. While this encouraged great debate and analysis, it made for lousy cocktail party conversation. The modernists had ruined the world with their evil black box buildings. They created banal and boring buildings. The graphic design was fine in its time, but didn’t work in a multi-cultural world of complex messaging. If something didn’t have at least five historical typographic references and a nod to rococo, it was a failure. More was more. Five varnishes and 12 colors, no problem. A plethora of meaningless forms, sounds pretty. And while you’re at it, can you add some Greek columns and floral wallpaper?

I recall seeing The Fountainhead in Film History. In this scene (above) Howard Roark, our modernist hero, is asked to add columns and decorative bits to his pure building. He won’t, of course. After the film many students disagreed with his position. They were insistent that the hideous post-modern applications brought his building to life.

In my Junior year, my comfortable post-modern world was turned upside down. I visited one of my professors who lived in a Richard Neutra house in Silverlake. I expected her house to be cold, impersonal, clinical, and boring. But, it was a revelation. The structure had harmony, grace, and elegance. It was surrounded by eucalyptus trees and was warm and inviting. Every space, from a doorway to a hall, was beautifully proportioned. How could I have been so wrong? How much time had I wasted deriding the true one God? I was converted. Today, this scene from The Fountainhead is painful to watch as the pure and simple beauty of the structure is vulgarized and abused like putting Grace Kelly in hooker heels, hot pink overalls, and a tie-dye t-shirt.

Richard Neutra, VDL House, Silverlake, California, photo: Julius Shulman 1966

Grace Kelly

not quite Grace Kelly

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George Tscherny, JC Penney Annual Report cover, 1970

Originally, I planned to do this post about modernism done well, and modernism done badly. For example, the Barcelona Pavilion by Mies van der Rohe is done well. A black box office building on Ventura Boulevard is not so good. The JC Penney annual report for 1970 is a great example of beautiful and precise modernism. George Tscherny’s design is crisp and clean. The Helvetica is elegant. This is what a Swiss grid and Helvetica can be in the hands of a master. This is, obviously, the intent for the current JC Penney Helvetica style.

But, while doing research for this post, I came across the website, www.wishbookweb.com. It’s a treasure trove of shopping catalogues. The 1970 JC Penney Christmas catalogue has nothing to do with the annual report beside the date. It’s a remarkable time capsule. The clothes are, of course, funny. It’s the odd subtext of the pages that make it such a pleasure. In the spirit of full disclosure, I did see some plaid shirts that I wanted to buy. But you cannot call 1970. Nobody answers, and there were no answering machines.

George Tscherny, JC Penney Annual Report spread, 1970

George Tscherny, JC Penney Annual Report spread, 1970

George Tscherny, JC Penney Annual Report spread, 1970

George Tscherny, JC Penney Annual Report spread, 1970

And now, from high modernism to nifty hats and big pockets on the front of pants.

JC Penney Christmas catalogue 1970

I don’t think anyone looks good in His n’ Hers styles. Couples should not match unless they are in a groovy band like Kids of the Kingdom.

JC Penney Christmas catalogue 1970

This is further proof that matching outfits are wrong. And these simply look illicit.

There is an odd prevalence of men holding women on the ground in this book. It’s quite submissive and frankly disturbing. I believe the women should be allowed to stand, especially if forced to wear department store headbands. Even I know that’s uncool.

JC Penney Christmas catalogue, 1970

Am I wrong or is this a page of “swingers”? And I don’t mean the dancing to swing music people. These are the people who live down the block and invite you to a “key” party. Don’t go. It will end badly.

JC Penney Christmas catalogue, 1970

JC Penney Christmas catalogue, 1970

JC Penney Christmas catalogue, 1970

What can be said? First, these are bathmats with holes cut for sleeves. Second, these vests scream, “beat me up! Please!” A nun would cross the street to beat up these kids.

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The seafoam christmas tree option

Traditionally, we’ve always put a tree up right after Thanksgiving. This year, I need to buy a new one. The previous tree was white and had yellowed to a urine tone. In the past, I was forced to buy either a “lifelike” traditional tree, or a white one. But if a tree is artificial, shouldn’t it look artificial? Isn’t that a tenet of modernism, truth in materials? Taking this argument to its logical conclusion, this points toward a colored Christmas tree.

Fortunately, today, companies like treetopia sell colored Christmas trees. If you want a pink tree, you are now not forced to buy just a sad two-foot Barbie tree. This is disturbing to guests, or to use in the office, unless you have a young daughter. Like a visitor from the Soviet Union walking into a supermarket for the first time, I’m overwhelmed by the choices. Pink, blue, orange, or seafoam: which color is best? With the magic of Photoshop, I simulated the tree in its environment. I’ve found this to be a good tool for picturing possible furniture, landscaping, and hair color. Some of you are probably screaming at your monitor, “No you idiot! None of the above! Bad taste! Bad taste!” But I counter with my adherence to modernist theory.

The pink christmas tree option

The seafoam christmas tree option

The orange christmas tree option

The blue christmas tree option

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Jack in the Box restaurant, 1964, courtesy of Charles Phoenix

I like to tell my crew, family, and friends, “We prove our resolve and courage by resisting temptation.” Oscar Wilde said, “Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation?  I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength, strength and courage to yield to.” And President Reagan said, “Middle age is when you’re faced with two temptations and you choose the one that will get you home by nine o’clock.”

The Tacos at Jack in the Box, and Original Recipe Kentucky Fried Chicken are two temptations that, like a narcotic to a junkie, sound so good as an idea, but end badly. They smell so nice and call to each person passing like Odysseus’ sirens. And then when you have finished your meal, you immediately feel deep regret and shame. “Why did I eat that?” I berate myself. Fortunately, this temptation only rears its head on long road trips, at the most once every two years.

The version designed in the early 1960s uses the entire building as a sign and a symbol. It’s clean, simple, and efficient—a masterpiece of modernism. Russell Forester designed the “big box” restaurant and said, “It’s not really a building. It’s an envelope to enclose machines to dispense food.” Meets the big tenets of modernism if you ask me. Plus the talking drive thru Jack (in the box) is so much more fun than a big board with illuminated photos of food. When I yield to temptation I want the whole cheesy enchilada with clowns, bright colors and wacky type, not a tasteful urban yet sophisticated attitude.

The Jack in the Box drive thru contraption

Jack in the Box, late 1950s

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History of Electricity cover

Years ago, Lorraine Wild showed me a publication that Eric Nitsche had designed for General Dynamics and it changed the way I look at design. Nitsche had been a hero of mine for years. I tend to like the designers who aren’t the huge names, but do great work just under the radar, like Alvin Lustig, or Lester Beall. Am I self aware? Probably not. Steven Heller wrote a wonderful essay about Nitsche in 1999. Nitsche is not the rock star like his contemporaries, Paul Rand, or Saul Bass, but he is remarkable. His simple modernist aesthetic combines a scientific rigor and precision with an emotional fluidness. That’s not easy.  Michael Bierut says, “Design is 90% persuasion.” (Michael forgive me if I have the percentage wrong, its’ not that I don’t try hard, it’s that I’m stupid). How Nitsche convinced his clients to give him enormous amounts of real estate on a page for nothing is genius. When I showed one of his spreads from a General Dynamics project to Chris and Monica in my office, they both said, “Yeah right. A client would demand that you make the image bigger, or add a few paragraphs.” We’ve religiously collected Nitsche’s books, and I’ve been warned by my staff to not share this secret. But I am convinced that we all need as much inspiration as possible these days. Does that sound political? Sorry, it’s in my DNA.

History of Transportation, cover

Advertisement, general Dynamics

postcard, General Dynamics

Annual Report, General Dynamics, spread

General Dynamics, Convair 800 advertisement

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