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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Alois Carigiet, 1935

A few weeks ago I attempted to repaint my living room in sophisticated silver grey. This was a mistake. What looked beautiful in the Restoration Hardware catalogue looked like a prison cell in my living room. If I wanted to interrogate visitors, or slam them up against a wall with a shiv this would be perfect. I called my trusty painter Jeirro and he repainted it back to aqua and watermelon pink. Clearly I am doomed to what others refer to as bad taste or garish color.

In defense of garish color I point to some of our finest designers, Paul Rand, Art Paul, Tadanori Yokoo, and Paul Bruno. We think of these people as refined craftsmen. But did they shy away from magenta and orange, purple and lime green? No. They embraced it and ignored the calls from the sophisticated elite, “More beige, please.”

I’ve often used the baby mobile argument. If beige mobile and a brightly colored mobile are presented to a toddler, he or she will always gravitate toward the bright one. The bad things in life, rotten meat, deadly deep water, and coffins are dull and grey. The good things, non-poisonous berries, swimming pools, and pink Cadillacs are bright and cheerful. This is why clients react badly when presented a baby shit green poster, and cheer for the bright yellow and happy pink one.

Paul Bruno, 1903

Paul Rand, 1964

Henry Williams, 1968

Tony Roboiro, 1968

Tadanori Yokoo, 1969

Art Paul, 1967

AdamsMorioka, Mexico website, 2009

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Tadanori Yokoo, Henry Miller

I’ll admit it; I’m contradictory. I’ve learned this is a good thing to say. I can get away with so many things. When I change my mind, I can say, “I know I said I like yellow, but now I want brown. I’m contradictory,” or, “I gave that Boardwalk Empire show a chance, today I decided it’s boring.” At a lecture a couple of weeks ago someone pointed out that although I talk about clarity and a modernist approach, some of our work had ornamentation. My response, “Well I’m contradictory.” See how well it works.

Consequently, I love Tadanori Yokoo’s work. Theoretically, it should be too complex, layered, and decorative, and I should only like John Massey. But, Yokoo endlessly inspires me. His work is related to psychadelia and the Fillmore tradition in spirit, but also has a unique approach to space. Like traditional Japanese prints, distance is visualized by the placement on the page, not a western 3-dimensional perspective. His work takes traditional elements and combines them with western iconography and popular culture. He doesn’t carefully and harmoniously combine these; they seem slammed together with remarkable energy. Don’t get me wrong, though, I also love John Massey. Why? Yes, you know.

Tadanori Yokoo, 1965

Tadanori Yokoo, 1965

Tadanori Yokoo, 1965

Tadanori Yokoo, 1967

Tadanori Yokoo, A Ballad Dedicated to the Small Finger Cutting Ceremony

Tadanori Yokoo, 1965

Tadanori Yokoo, 1968

John Massey, 1968

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Priscilla's Beauty Salon, Los Angeles, California

We are now traveling along the Burning Settlers Cabin Trail leaving the world of high-end classic design and entering the land of wonder. This business card may, indeed, be the most inspiring and influential business card in history. First, who knew that business cards could be die-cut with a palette shape. Second, why have I not used people’s heads on my business card design? And finally, gradated pastel rainbow forms create an etherial tone. The miraculous Tadanori Yokoo obviously used this business card as the basis for all of his work, as evidenced below.

Tadanori Yokoo, Koshimaki-osen, 1966

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