It's a dog's laugh

Counter Space

I don't mean typographical counter space, like the space in "O." I mean a cool exhibit at MoMA about the kitchen. "Counter Space" is rich in interesting thoughts (the kitchen is a symbol of the heart of the home, or a symbol of oppression). On a practical note, it's the most dangerous room in the house.

Swiss Mister: Daniel Spoerri's 1960 art made from breakfast leftovers.

The centerpiece of the show is an example of the "Frankfurt Kitchen," designed in 1926–1927 by the architect Grete Schutte-Lihotsky and which transformed the lives of ordinary people. The small-but-dense exhibit has cool art and great fixtures, artefacts, and posters. Some of the videos are hilariously quaint. Some of the pieces brought back memories (a woman standing next to me pointed to a photo of a Tupperware party and said she gave parties and sold some of the items in the vitrines). And some of the promotional material was just plain hilarious. My personal favorites include an ad that shows two women in a kitchen, one of them wearing a snood. See the odd-shaped thingie to the right, circle in blue.

Posters are well represented, with a surprisingly-beautiful poster by Henry van de Velde which helped brand a new era of food products. Some of my faves are British posters from World War II, many of them featuring critters (naughty nibbling rats and fertile rabbits). One poster features a non-critter: The Vegetabull. The poster nods to Archimboldo (or should I say "ArchimBULLdo"). All of the British posters amaze me in their dealings with adversity. And a French poster for gas evokes the era of Cassandre.


"A vegetable dish made with dried eggs and household milk is as good as a joint." (Not THAT kind of joint!)

On the poster: "One rabbit has at least 12 young a year—45 lbs of meat—and it's off the ration!"

Style as Signifier

As someone interested in costume and costume design, I've always loved what people's clothes say about them. I don't mean simply stuff like "put the ingenue in white or dress the heroine in red in the last act." A master class in Semiotics-meets-Style, Debbie Millman's Design Matters discussion with Kate Betts makes wonderful points about how Michelle Obama's style is a strong signifier for Obama's administration. Of course, it helps to have both substance and style. Michelle Obama has 'em.

A striking moment in the interview was about Hillary Rodham Clinton, who worked hard—which in an ideal world would be enough. It isn't. As First Lady, Clinton searched for her style. Betts credits Clinton for paving the way, but the truth is that Hillary doesn't have the same style and charisma. Confidence and being comfortable in your own skin (in the First Lady's case, very buffed skin), not to mention pageantry, can send a message. I know we were just discussing yeoman-like work and its importance, which may make this post seem weird, but I submit that Rollins very much has his own style.

Back to Michelle O, here's a bit more from Betts and Millman about how the marvelous is the message: the red dress that US designer-loyal Obama wore at the January 2011 China State Dinner made a statement. Betts notes that the "Chinese symbolism of red for luck and success" signalled that the dinner was about world, not local, politics.



Image cropped from The Huffington Post Style Page. Photographer credit not apparent.

Yeoman's Work

Back when I worked at Marvel Comics, I was introduced to the concept of yeoman's work by my boss, editor Nel Yomtov. He always talked about writers and pencillers and inkers who put in a hard day's work with deep respect.

So I'm intrigued and a bit inspired (and confused!) by this interview with Henry Rollins in Time Out Magazine from January 31, 2011. Henry Rollins, punk performer extraordinaire (and major teenage crush material) has turned 50 (fifty!), and he talks about creativity, or his lack thereof.

I have to say, I honestly believe that 99% of life is just showing up. Keep showing up, Henry.

Image: Chapman Baehler



Q: 
Are you still feeling restless? What’s next for Mr. Henry Rollins?

Rollins:
I’m not artistic nor am I all that creative. I’m more reactive to things. With Nick [Cave], he is a creative person. He’s brilliant that way. I’m not. I’ve got nothing like that. I’m kind of a hack. Or I’m workmanlike. And that’s no bad place to be—it's just different. I say yes to opportunity. I come from the minimum wage working world of the late ’70s, early ’80s. That’s what I know. I know a time clock, a boss and repetitive work. With the talking shows, I have a point of view; I want to tell a story. I am one of those awful hams who would pay you to let me be onstage. I don’t think I am an artist or I am creative. And so when you ask me is there anything else you’d like to do, I don’t know, what do you got.

The best moment of the day

I've been on a major reading jag lately, most recently finishing up Nicholson Baker's book The Anthologist, which is about a poet who is procrastinating writing the introduction to an anthology of poems. Like Fellini's 8 1/2, a movie about a director who doesn't know what to make a movie about, Baker's book is a game of formalism, where writing about not being able to write becomes the novel. Towards the end of the book, the main character, Paul Chowder, gives a lecture about writing poetry, and there is a bit of business about the best moment of the day that is just absolute loveliness.

And then a man of forty or so, with a French accent, asked, ‘How do you achieve the presence of mind to initiate the writing of a poem?’ And something cracked open in me, and I finally stopped hoarding and told them my most useful secret. The only secret that has helped me consistently over all the years that I’ve written. I said, ‘Well, I’ll tell you how. I ask a simple question. I ask myself: What was the very best moment of your day?’ The wonder of it was, I told them, that this one question could lift out from my life exactly what I will want to write a poem about. Something that I hadn’t known was important will leap up and hover there in front of me, saying I am—I am the best moment of the day. I noticed two people were writing down what I was saying. Often, I went on, it’s a moment when you’re waiting for someone, or you’re driving somewhere, or maybe you’re just walking diagonally across a parking lot and you’re admiring the oil stains and the dribbled tar patterns. One time it was when I was driving past a certain house that was screaming with sunlitness on its white clapboards, and then I plunged through tree shadows that splashed and splayed over the windshield. You, windshield shadows, you are the best moment of the day. ‘And that’s my secret, such as it is,’ I said.
—Nicholson Baker, The Anthologist (Simon & Schuster, 2009)

Here's the best moment of one of my days recently...a winter's afternoon at the Great Swamp in Chatham, NJ.

Bayou Juju

Here's the real deal. A friend brought this back for me from New Orleans a long time ago...and I'm afraid to throw it away (what if it's really working!?)! It's from Marie Laveau's House of Voodoo on Bourbon Street. Times being what they are and all, even the voodoo shops have websites now.

Good JuJu

This pre-Valentine squib is inspired by a foray into the pantry to clean out ancient treats (unconsumed for a year and exhumed to avoid waste). The gummy hearts are a product (and a train wreck of a package) of Mayfair Sales, Buffalo, NY. A shallow search for Mayfair's site led me to a post by a gent named Michael Marcus, who normally posts about publishing, but reminisced about Jan/Feb candies.

But I digress. The heart of this post is the typography for "Mayfair." Can you name the face? A hint: I found its name in Photolettering's One Line Manual of Styles, one of the now-vintage type books on BTD's shelves. BTW, you could give your students an interesting sidebar discussion about Art Nouveau-inspired funky faces from the ______by luminaries such as______________. Extra points and picas for naming the the outlined "JuJu!"

* I first heard the term "good juju" from Amy D, originally from New Orleans, who worked at BTD in the early 1990s. Valentine candy could be "good juju"—i.e. a fetish or some sort of toy or magic to ensure romance. It's a stretch, but so's eating those gummy hearts!

Happy Birthday, Marilyn

Waaaaaaaaaaaay back in 2006, BTD updated the design for All About Art, An Essential Guide to Art History as well as a variation entitled Art, A Brief History. Today, while at the CAA (as an author! signing copies of Layout Essentials!), I saw that there's an UPDATED updated edition. Better yet, I saw Marilyn Stokstad herself and introduced myself. Her publisher, Pearson, had some cute promos for the book, one of which was a birthday cookie which says, "Happy Birthday, Marilyn." That's Stokstad, not Monroe. And yes, I wished Marilyn a Happy Birthday.




PS: I amused myself by signing Layout Essentials/100 Design Principles for Using Grids with the phrase, "All grid wishes" and my name.

Headbands

Before I worked at BTD, I had never heard of a headband. Have you? Take out one of your lovelier hardbound books and look at the top of the spine. See that little strip of cloth that's between the signature pages and the spine itself? It's called the headband. It helps attach the edges of the folded paper to the spine, and keeps your book spine from cracking and the pages spilling out. There are even sample books that show you different headbands you can specify when you're designing a book, like these from Talas:

I recently received a fascinating catalog of books about bookmaking from Oak Knoll Press/Oak Knoll Books, and even though I knew about headbands, I was surprised to find an entire book devoted to them, titled Headbands: How to Work Them, and they're not talking about Pat Benatar or Jane Fonda, Bjorn Borg or Olivia Newton John.

Further googling about headbands yields some really interesting book conservation materials...worth a look!

Cheers, Chang

A meeting of the minds went down the other night at Bao Noodles in Gramercy. Designers B & S met for salt and pepper squid and a bucket of happy hour Chang beers to discuss the state of design today (stay tuned!). Our intrepid bloggers were charmed by the Tiger brand water glasses, Chang mugs and bottles, and the plastic bucket (which would make a great beach pail!).

When ham was king

Pat's mother's recipes remind me of a Woolworth's menu someone sent me recently, purportedly from the 1950's, when ham salad was all the rage. Later decades brought pork chops, bologna, pork rinds, and now bacon. What part of the pig will be next?

A mother's hand

We've been so sporty lately! Superbowl's over, but a short visit to the Steeler Nation (aka the Eastern PA division of Pat's family, to watch the game) yielded a Pittsburgh treasure that to me is far greater than Big Ben Roethlisberger: recipe cards that Pat's mom handwrote when youngest son/bro left the nest. I'm astounded by the beautiful handwriting, especially the swash "T."

Another of Grace O'Neill's recipes has a gorgeous "heading" for the "Ham Loaf", written with the thoughtful care she put into everything. The letterforms are gorgeous, far fancier than you'd expect/spec for a loaf with ham etc. If I were typecasting, I'd set a bold sans. This is better—and honors the home cooking of a family without vast resources. Humbling!



Note to self: see if the baby digital camera works on macro; good tip, Suz!

Ken's Predicament

Sometimes it's not your ad campaign that's the problem...it's the XXX store right underneath your ad. At least it gives Ken another Valentine's Day option.

More (other) sports

I'm absolutely in love with the new NJ Devils advertising campaign...makes me all homestate proud! The taglines are funny and the type choice is terrific.

Superstuff

Is football folklore and iconography weird or what? A towel is terrible. A pillow is a helmet.

Egypt

I espied this classic-to-kitsch clock a few weeks before the upheavals in Egypt. Were the nearby pain relievers a foreshadowing of mind-boggling current events?