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Design Loves a Depression
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read the article online at: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/04/weekinreview/04cannell.html?partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
January 4, 2009
Design Loves a Depression
By MICHAEL CANNELL
Few of the arts benefited from the late economic boom more than design. After all, when the wealth is flowing, people don’t covet the concerts you see or the books you read. They covet the couch you bought, and then they buy a cooler one.

MODERN COMFORTS The Eames chair, left, is an enduring classic; the Vermelha chair, by the Campana Brothers, right, is in MoMA.
In the recent giddy years, signature architects and designers came to be known by their first names — Rem, Philippe, Zaha — and they were photographed as prolifically as Bono in new design hotbeds like Miami and Dubai. Brooklyn designers became the apotheosis of indie cool (thin portfolios notwithstanding), and the British collective Established & Sons and other skilled maneuverers learned to breed their self-conscious furniture selectively into limited editions that sold for the kind of prices more often found in the art world. All of which was chronicled in self-celebratory books like “S, M, L, XL” by Rem Koolhaas, a 1,300-page monograph as lush as glazed fruit and weighty as firewood.
Looking back, those of us with front-row seats might have known that this design surge would not sustain itself. Two years ago, at the Milan furniture fair, Marcel Wanders, a Dutch designer known for arty provocations, held a thumping party to show off his 15-foot-high lamps and other furniture of distorted Alice-in-Wonderland scale. Never mind that his work was upstaged by his girlfriend, Nanine Linning, who hung upside down half-naked while mixing vodka drinks from bottles affixed to a chandelier. Form followed frivolity. Function was left off the guest list.
Now, given that all those slick Miami condos are sitting empty in the sky, designers like the Campana Brothers, with their $8,910 Corallo chair, and Hella Jongerius, with her $10,615 Ponder sofa, might have a harder time selling their wares. Already designers are biting their knuckles over the damage reports. The American Institute of Architects reported that last month’s billings index, a gauge of nonresidential construction, reached its lowest level since it began collecting data in 1995.
The pain of layoffs notwithstanding, the design world could stand to come down a notch or two — and might actually find a new sense of relevance in the process. That was the case during the Great Depression, when an early wave of modernism flourished in the United States, partly because it efficiently addressed the middle-class need for a pared-down life without servants and other Victorian trappings.
“American designers took the Depression as a call to arms,” said Kristina Wilson, author of “Livable Modernism: Interior Decorating and Design During the Great Depression” and an assistant professor of art history at Clark University. “It was a chance to make good on the Modernist promise to make affordable, intelligent design for a broad audience.”
The most popular American designer of that era was probably Russel Wright, who acted as the Depression’s Martha Stewart, turning out a warmed-up, affordable version of European modern furniture, tableware and linens for a new kind of informal home life. A bentwood armchair cost $19.95. “They were not just cheap, they were beautiful, and that was a powerful combination,” Ms. Wilson said.
Design tends to thrive in hard times. In the scarcity of the 1940s, Charles and Ray Eames produced furniture and other products of enduring appeal from cheap materials like plastic, resin and plywood, and Italian design flowered in the aftermath of World War II.
Will today’s designers rise to the occasion? “What designers do really well is work within constraints, work with what they have,” said Paola Antonelli, senior curator of architecture and design at the Museum of Modern Art. “This might be the time when designers can really do their job, and do it in a humanistic spirit.”
In the lean years ahead, “there will be less design, but much better design,” Ms. Antonelli predicted.
There is a reason she and others are optimistic: however dark the economic picture, it will most likely cause designers to shift their attention from consumer products to the more pressing needs of infrastructure, housing, city planning, transit and energy. Designers are good at coming up with new ways of looking at complex problems, and if President-elect Barack Obama delivers anything like a W.P.A, we could be “standing on the brink of one of the most productive periods of design ever,” said Reed Kroloff, director of Cranbrook Academy of Art.
On the other hand, the design community talked up its role in safeguarding the world after 9/11, with little result.
Modernism’s great ambition was to democratize design. Ikea and Target have shown that the battle for cheap design can be won. The emphasis will most likely shift to greater quality at affordable prices. This time around it will be the designer’s job to discourage consumers from regarding that $30 Ikea side table as a throwaway item.
If household furnishings are to avoid landfills, says Julie Lasky, editor in chief of I.D. magazine, they must be capable of withstanding the vicissitudes of fashion — like the Aalto stool, but at a fifth of the price. “It will be about finding the sweet spot between affordability and durability,” Ms. Lasky said. This kind of innovation means rethinking the economy of production and distribution so that goods are made cheaply closer to home (or in the home, if the most radical ideas are to be taken seriously).
One way or another, design will focus less on styling consumer objects with laser-cut patterns and colored resin and more on the intelligent reworking of current conditions. Expect to hear a lot more about open-source design, and cradle-to-cradle, a concept developed by William McDonough and Michael Braungart that calls for cars, packaging and other everyday objects to be designed specifically for recycling so that their parts and materials are used and reused without waste.
The old paradigm — epitomized by shelter magazines like Architectural Digest and Dwell — that found romance in single-family homes, each with its own lawn, detached garage and septic system, may crumble under the weight of its wastefulness. One challenge will be for designers to coax us to a more efficient way of living, as the architect Lorcan O’Herlihy is doing with his light and airy schemes for multifamily dwellings in Los Angeles, a city where backyards and driveways are all but a birthright. Fewer buildings will go up, and the stock of mid-century buildings nearing the end of their lifespan will be thoughtfully reworked to make them efficient and in keeping with principles of sustainability.
If Ms. Linning’s dangling from the ceiling was a cultural moment now passed, we can look forward to others for an age in which beauty and austerity go together.
Michael Cannell is a former editor of the House & Home section of The Times and founder of thedesignvote.com.
Europeanization of Major U.S. Brands
Undoubtedly, the graphic design of consumer product packaging in Europe is more sophisticated that similar products in the United States. I’m not exactly sure why, but often European brands adhere to modernist design principles, and as such, packages and labels reflect a less-is-more aesthetic. American counterparts are often festooned with wanton drop shadows and visual textures which most certainly evoke a more emotional than rational purchasing choice. The more matter-of-fact mode of visual communication favored by European brands seems to be influencing some major U.S. brands. Tropicana quietly relaunched their line of orange juice in the U.S. last week, and the redesign is significantly more Euro in terms of style than the well-established U.S. counterpart. Tropicana has even harmonized the names of its line—renaming “Grovestand” (again, a folksy, homespun, quintessential American moniker) to “High Pulp” (which is a significantly more British-style mode of description)—with international counterparts.

Perhaps this is only the tip of the iceberg, and maybe, just maybe, we’ll begin to see some truly functional and well-designed consumer product and food packaging, rather than decorative visual noise that simply panders to masses of overstimulated and bored American consumers.
The Ties That Bind
This is a great blog post that appeared on Allison Arieff’s New York Times blog. Some definite food for thought.
by: ALLISON ARIEFF
When my mother, Carol, passed in 2004, I found myself spending hours at her empty apartment, sitting amid her things, desperate to find traces of her. I pored over her hundreds of books on art and antiques, looked through the baskets of art postcards she’d collected on her travels for scribbled notes, and flipped through years’ worth of day-planners, searching for evidence of her presence: a signature, a sketch, a smear of her trademark orange lipstick. I found one manila envelope of old family photographs and another containing every postcard I’d sent her during my junior year abroad in London. I cursed my 19-year-old self for not being thoughtful enough to keep the ones she’d written back to me.
My mom used e-mail, of course. And, for a time, I’d been proactive enough to save the meaningful ones she’d sent. But having gone through various versions of Outlook, Entourage, Gmail, et al., I have no idea where they are now. For all that’s miraculous and innovative and convenient and (insert superlative here) about our digital reality, it often seems poorly designed for posterity.
My most treasured find was a falling-apart book my mom had made in a children’s book illustration class she’d taken in the ‘70s (she’d been trained as a painter). She reinterpreted the classic “Noisy Nora,” by Rosemary Wells, with my father, my younger sister and me taking the place of Wells’ family of mice.
This pre-digital era class project hearkens back to the days when graphic works were hand-drawn and assembled. My mom’s drawings were done with a fountain pen, the text typed on a typewriter, each phrase individually cut out with scissors and glued to the page. Not long after the birth of my daughter, my graphic-designer husband scanned the delicate, fading artifact and created a brand new book, one that will not fall apart at the binding as we read to our young daughter.
(Bryan Burkhart)I am grateful to have this small token. I do worry about what we’re all going to leave behind for those looking for tangible evidence of our existence.
It’s true that never in history have so many people been able to tell their stories, and I love that about digital technology. But will we be clamoring to read “The Collected Text Messages of John and Jane” or “E-mails to My Father”? (It’s no coincidence that so many bloggers are in search of book deals.) Call me old-fashioned, but I remain committed to paper, to something I can hold in my hands and, ultimately, pass on to future generations.
(Princeton Architectural Press)That’s why I’ve been so incredibly taken with two slim volumes published this year: “A Year of Mornings: 3191 Miles Apart” and “The Day-to-Day Life of Albert Hastings” (both by the incomparable Princeton Architectural Press) These two books elegantly address various notions of impermanence, remembrance and observation.
In “The Day-to-Day Life of Albert Hastings,” the photographer KayLynn Deveney befriends an elderly neighbor and begins to notice and eventually photograph the meticulous ways he orders and organizes his day.
Excerpt from “The Day-to-Day Life of Albert Hastings.” (Princeton Architectural Press)Bert, 91, outlived his wife, daughter and grandson, and the absence of family is reflected in the attention he pays to the most mundane details of life: preparing a list of TV programs to watch, receiving his pension, checking his medication. Deveney observes his daily routine with sensitivity and indeed manages to elevate it to the level of art.
Excerpt from “The Day-to-Day Life of Albert Hastings.” (Princeton Architectural Press)“A Year of Mornings,” by Maria Alexandre Vettese and Stephanie Congdon Barnes, started out as a blog. The two women, who’d met through their work with craft, initiated a yearlong visual conversation with each other: Every day they’d take and post a photograph that in some small way documented their respective mornings.
Excerpt from “A Year of Mornings.” (Princeton Architectural Press)Akin to the images recorded in “Albert Hastings,” these are vignettes of simple everyday things: a cup of coffee, soft-boiled eggs, rain boots kicked off at the front door, the stem of a flower, many crumpled napkins, many spoons. Though the two women were 3,191 miles apart — one in Portland, Ore., the other in Portland, Maine — the images are complementary in their color and composition more often than not. Sometimes startlingly so.
The blog, and the book that followed after a year’s worth of images (and 3,000 visitors a day from Australia to Iceland), capture the rhythms of everyday life, often surprising the viewer by the sheer beauty of the most quotidian element. That each woman paused to record the curve of a daughter’s ear, a bowl of cereal or a shadow cast across the floor before sitting down in front of a computer is an act that carries with it the most clichéd, yet essential, of all messages: stop and smell the roses (and the coffee, the toast, the morning air).
We’re living in difficult times, and it seems it’s exactly these tiny details and fleeting moments that can offer us the most solace and even joy. Just as I hold “Noisy Nora” dear, so, too, I believe, will the children of Mav and Stephanie be grateful for “A Year of Mornings.” Its transformation from blog to book helps to insure its preservation through the inevitable, endless iterations of technological innovations to come.
11
A couple of my (very awesome) students from RIT have been busy working to launch a new magazine. It has a digital home and a Facebook page so check it out: [11]
RIT Archives, a real treasure.
One of the most gratifying perks of working on Graphic Design Referenced— aside from the unbelievably intense pressure of writing 400 pages and making sure we don’t tell any lies — has been the opportunity to interact with many of the design artifacts we are featuring: We now have a healthy collection of 1960s Playboy magazines, 1980s The Face, LP albums from the 1970s, a Lufthansa 1968 timetable by Otl Aicher, and other items. And if I was excited about our previous visit to the Herb Lubalin Study Center at Cooper Union, I can only begin to tell you how ecstatic I was to visit theGraphic Design Archives in the Cary Graphic Arts Collection at RIT (Rochester Institute of Technology) at the beginning of this month.

Just one of the many aisles in the Graphic Design Archives at RIT.
The Graphic Design Archives are perhaps the most comprehensive collections of the work of American designers practicing from the 1950s – to 1980s, including Saul Bass, Lester Beall, Alexey Brodovitch, Will Burtin, Tom Carnase, Cipe Pineles, Paul Rand and Bradbury Thompson, among others. On a windy Friday morning I JetBlued myself over to Rochester to spend the better part of the day going through the archives to select work from Beall, Sutnar, Pineles, Carnase and Rand for inclusion in our book. As I expected, the collections and condition of the work were superb, and it was a real pleasure to go through the carefully labeled folders and boxes. I only had a handful of hours as I had to hop on a plane that evening, so I didn’t have the luxury of kicking back and browsing every page of Caterpillar’s corporate identity manual, or read through Rand’s famous presentation book for the Next logo, or bring out the full collection of Harper’s Bazaar to see all the covers and spreads. I only had enough time to make some selections and snap some quick photos to give everyone a very limited sneak peek at what lies in this treasure trove of graphic design history.
Due to the sensitivity of wrongful reproduction or usage of RIT’s materials, the following photographs are, on purpose, not the best and are oddly framed by folders, pencils and my laptop, as well as some being taken in unflattering angles.

Lester Beall


Lester Beall’s letterhead and folder cover, die-cut.


Corporate identity manual for International Paper. Top: This is how logos were provided for reproduction in the days before .EPSes and .GIFs. Bottom: Swatches of how the green should print in different paper stocks — slightly more effective proof than today’s PDFs.



Corporate identity manual for Connecticut General.



Corporate identity manual for Caterpillar.


Corporate identity manual for Martin Marietta Corporation, which would merge in 1995 with Lockheed Corporation to form Lockheed Martin.



Covers for Scope, a publication by Upjohn Pharmaceuticals.

Ladislav Sutnar


Small brochure for Addo-x, titled “Adventures with a Logotype.”



“Transport, the Next Half Century” brochure. I could not keep my eyes off of this one. It was truly amazing.



Foxboro catalog.

Holtzer-Cabot Corp. catalog.

Paul rand

Presentation book for Next.

Presentation book for The Limited.


Presentation book for American Express.



Cummins Annual Reports.

PDR Computer Impressions capabilities brochure.


One of many guideline documents for IBM. Very humorous note.

Many thanks to Kari Horowicz and David Pankow for opening their collection to us, and for their help and support with our project.
I’m a PC… only, I’m a hypocrite.
From a marketing perspective, the Windows “I’m a PC” campaign is genius (it’s just too bad they’re hawking software that doesn’t work so well.
Only one big problem with that spot…it was made using a Mac. [read entire post here] [check out the screen shots at Flickr]

10 Ways to Take Design Action and Make a Positive Difference in the World
This is a great post, and worth checking out. My friend William sent it to me. [click here to read the entire post]
Bad Corporate Identity and Logotype = Failure?
My student, Amanda sent me a really interesting blog post about the recent financial service firm failures and the poor design of logos [read the entire blog post here].

My research demonstrates that companies that change their corporate identity stand a higher than average chance of failing than companies that stick with the same identity. It’s interesting to note that AIG changed their logo about 5 years ago from two overlapping As to the current serifed AIG on a blue rectangle.

Likewise, Lehman Brothers changed their logo about 7 years ago to a serifed Lehman Brothers on various backgrounds, depending on presentation and media.
Food for thought… food for thought.
Can you ever forgive me?
When I was a kid, I read this lousy “unauthorized” biography of Esteé Lauder. I remember thinking it was poorly written and disorganized. I was maybe 11, so what did I know.
Turns out, the Lauder bio was written by a woman named Lee Israel. She was a fraud, a sham, and a liar — and apparently (though it didn’t show through in her “real” work) a pretty convincing author.
After Israel’s Lauder book failed, she took to forging letters from well known authors. She was eventually caught and convicted, but not after amassing quite a cache of letters from at least five different “authors.”

The letters are collected in the new book Can You Ever Forgive Me? out recently from Simon & Schuster [click here to see the book on Amazon], and reviewed in The New York Times [click here to read the review].

What’s particularly interesting about the book is that many of the letters hail from Rochester. 7 North Goodman Street, to be exact (above). The irony here is that there is no 7 North Goodman Street in Rochester, NY. She also used ZIP codes on letters dated before ZIP codes were in use. So, clever she may have been, but just not too clever.
Toronto Star Article
New signs for the TTC: Can you tell the difference?

SUPPLIED IMAGES
The TTC is testing a simplified revamp of its street-level subway entrance signs. The proposed version is on the left, and the existing version is on the right.
May 30, 2008
TESS KALINOWSKI
TRANSPORTATION REPORTER
Take it as a sign of these brand-conscious times.
The TTC is piloting a simplified revamp of its street-level subway entrances that uses the TTC’s traditional red pylon logo in silhouette.
The new design will be installed and tested at the northeast corner of the Osgoode station in April so the TTC can gauge public reaction.
“We have such an iconic image for the TTC, so we wanted to make sure when we do replace it we do it right,” said TTC chair Adam Giambrone.
The pylon design dates back to the 1920s and was the visual cue that designers and TTC officials recommended following a brainstorming session at the Design Exchange in September.
It made no sense to replace the pylon given the public’s emotional attachment to the symbol, he said.
If reaction to the sign is positive, it would become the standard for new stations as the subway is extended, and at new entrances such as one planned for Queen’s Park station at the MaRS Discovery District on College St.
The pared-down pylon is meant to be easily seen and reduce the visual clutter that has grown along with the transit system, said Susan Reed Tanaka, TTC manager of engineering.
“What we would have is the TTC logo on the signpost, which attracts your attention to the location. And then the door, which is adjacent, has the station name, the line colour and the mode logo on it,” she said.
It’s still unclear whether the TTC would survey riders, the general public or design experts on the effectiveness of the new sign.
Whether out-of-towners recognize the TTC insignia “is something we’d probably have to study,” said Reed Tanaka.
There’s a lot riding on a strong TTC brand, Alex Bitterman, a professor at Rochester Institute of Technology, told participants at the Design Exchange session. A well-designed brand can give a big boost to transit ridership.
Santa Monica, Calif., for example, increased ridership by 400 per cent when it rebranded its system as the Big Blue Bus.













