I took this amazing photo of NYC from my hotel room window the last time I was there. I printed it in my darkroom at home. I’ve got photography skills, don’t you think?

Oops, what is that… um, crease along the bottom? Well…. umm, uhh, I wasn’t showing you the whole lovely print I made in my darkroom at home, because, well, my 10-year-old folded it along the bottom so I cropped that part out. Yep, that’s what happened.

Oh no, I’m caught in the act. I didn’t take a photograph of New York City after all… and my 10-year-old is exonerated.

In fact, here’s the reality. The “photo of NYC” is actually just a super tight crop, a close-up of a part of a cute little gift bag that sits on my desk here at the office. The reason I love this bag and the reason it occupies valuable real estate on my desk, is because I can (mentally!) dive into the image, as shown at the very top of this post, and feel like I’m there… I can zoom in with my mind’s eye, eliminating the surrounding clutter… and travel. I heart NY.

I can also demonstrate what’s possible with cropping, a tool in every designer’s bag of tricks, and something we do by second nature after a certain number of years. A practicing designer begins to really see the world differently and can then manipulate your perception as well. Verrrrry powerful stuff.

Thankfully, most of us (your friends at designfarm, included) operate in service of good vs. evil.

Confession: I was never really a bona-fide punk rock grrl.

Not in the pure sense of earning the title. I was rebellious; in the cultural context of my early-70′s teen years suburban Columbus, Ohio ennui was such that my rebellions could have been considered fairly radical. A few years later, within my college culture (University of MD, fine arts dept), I might also have been considered a rebel, lugging massive art books and dressed in shades-of-black thriftstore clothes. Small things, yes, but in 1977, these affectations amounted to quite the statement in College Park, where sports and the Greek System defined campus life. I may have thought I was cool, and maybe I sort of was for a nerdy art-dork. But I’m pretty sure I knew even then that I wasn’t hard core. After all, my nice Jewish mother would have killed me and although I was in perpetual mourning for the sad state of the world, I wasn’t ready to die yet.

Regardless of my admission to being far too tied to my traditional upbringing to ever qualify as Punk with a capital P (see Sid Vicious and Johnny Rotten, above), I can say with absolute certainty: The Sex Pistols, bursting onto the world scene with glorious brain-searing noise unlike anything ever heard, changed my life. The Pistols turned everything upside down; how I thought about popular culture, music, art, writing, fashion, graphic design, DIY, image and image-making, politics, the whole heady late-70′s mix of youthful life. So although I never pierced my face with a safety pin, part of me became and still is punk.

Oddly enough, today, a week past my 51st birthday, I may be having the truest, yet wholly unexpected experience of what it meant/means to be punk. And I am having it because 30 years after the fact I am sporting a t-shirt I picked up at Trash & Vaudeville in the East Village, NYC (above) this summer.

Pictured above, in screaming neon pink, there is Sid… as hideous and F-You as he could possibly make himself (or, as English impressario Malcolm McLaren could create him). And yes, I’m sporting a t-shirt of Sid, and Sid is sporting a t-shirt of a shattered image of Christ–unarguably sacreligious just for the context and color treatment, among other things.

On the elevator ride to the designfarm world HQ this morning I wasn’t really thinking about all of this–I just love this danged t-shirt–but the reaction was palpable. I could feel my usually friendly office-building mates stiffen with discomfort and I was taken aback. As people exited, they snuck final sideways glances. Then they scurried off. Quickly.

Attraction/repulsion… I think that’s at the heart of punk. You want to look, you must look. Simultaneously, you have a strong urge to run in the opposite direction. The fact that a t-shirt, so far removed from the people and events themselves… can still have this effect… is a testament to the undeniable power of images and of design, and of the enduring power of punk.

And yes, I probably should have known as much.

I try so hard not to “work” during the little vacation time I take each year. It’s important to get away, relax, see and hear the ocean, eat boardwalk fries drenched in vinegar and salt, read a couple of books, &tc&tc&tc!

And for the most part, that’s exactly what I did last week. Interspersed with just a tiny bit of email, a few office calls, and my usual hyper-awareness of color, texture, forms, design-in-general, and TYPE. I love type. I can’t help it. Type is everywhere; good, bad and ugly, and in the case of Rehoboth Beach Delaware (and so many other locales), it can truly define place. Pictured above, the super iconic Dolles Salt Water Taffy (since 1910!) signage. So big! So retro! And so wonderfully ominous (especially for a candy shop) against the darkening sky.

I love the fat serif type in circles (Bodoni Poster?) above and especially the crazy-colorful palette. However, I would highly recommend Snyder’s Candy shop over the ever-present Candy Kitchen. Snyders has some amazing gourmet chocolate covered pretzels and TONS of retro candy that you’ve forgotten how much you once loved.

Neon is always fun, no matter what. This signage hangs in the window at Louie’s Pizza (best at the beach in our opinion, forget Grotto’s and Nicola), where a waitress named Noelle remembered Molly and I from two years ago. I am NOT kidding!

The above specimen was found on the seat of one of the long white benches that line the boardwalk. Abstract, weathered and so cool.

This sign appeared to be hand-painted in a turn-of-the-century carnival style, but I think it was done fairly recently and faux distressed. Great job… I love the font, colors and overall feel of this piece. The Boardwalk 5&10 is super fun too, with terrific tacky souvenirs and sundries.

The type above isn’t of great interest (especially those irritatingly misaligned bullets!) but the image of the surfing ice cream cone is great! Best soft-serve frozen custard on the beach: Kohr Bros (since 1917!), with a new flavor that mixes caramel and cappacino. YUMMMMY!! Observing and documenting typography gives me sheer pleasure, to be sure. But the real satisfaction comes later, when these images and memories work their way out of my files and my mind and into my creative projects.

I’ve let my New Yorker subscription lapse recently and not because I don’t enjoy reading this entertaining and smart magazine. Politics, literature, reviews, humor… it’s all there. The problem for me… it’s sort of too all there. As a weekly jam-packed text-heavy publication, TNY tends to pile up on the dining room table, leaving me with feelings of intellectual laziness and/or guilt. Confession: Sometimes I just read the cartoons. (Come on, so do you!) Look, I’m a busy mom with a job and a half… give me a break! I just don’t have time. But make no mistake, I love The New Yorker. One thing I actually often make time to read is the front section that describes the goings-on at the NYC galleries, movie theaters, etc. It somehow makes me feel connected to, if deeply lonesome, for the great city where everything happens about a year before it hits DC (if it hits at all).

Oddly, my subscription seems to have ended with the controversial Obama + Michelle as Islamic Terrorists cover. The mag wasn’t in my mailbox this week, so I heard about this from my mom, pulling up the image later on my computer.

So, we’ve established that I am a TNY magazine reader and bigtime fan. For the purposes of this essay, let’s also just go out on a professional limb and establish (in case it’s a secret, ha!) that I am also a political progressive. Very left of center. I like Obama and I want him to win the Presidency. There you have it, my cards are on the table as I am about to offer a bit of harsh criticism to my beloved TNY.

What I’d like to say simply is this. MEMO TO THE NEW YORKER MAGAZINE: WHAT WERE YOU THINKING??! AND &%$#!@.

What I’m going to say instead is: The New Yorker covers, and not just this one but particularly this one, often suffer from a big failure of communication, a failure of design and marketing. A big fat FAILURE OF MESSAGE CLARITY.

Shame on you TNY. You are much too sophisticated for that. Aren’t you?

If you know the magazine, you know that the cartoons are often satirical. Heaping dollops of irony. A long time ago, I felt intellectually ashamed when I didn’t “get” a TNY cartoon. What was I missing? More importantly why was I missing it? I’m smart, political, savvy and cool… why don’t I understand the humor?? Is it because I didn’t go to Harvard or Yale? Later I realized, it’s a running joke among readers: While some cartoons are quick and easy, and laugh-out-loud funny, others can be so obtuse that the humor is buried under such opaque layers of literary or political or some other reference that most people aren’t getting the joke. Whew!

The covers, which are marketed and sold by the magazine as framed works of art, employ illustration, a graphical tool that brings point of view into play automatically by its very nature. Sometimes the illustrations are simple, a gently sweet comment on the season. Here is one such cover from 2002 by Gahan Wilson. Easy peasy, right? My 10 year old would “get” this, and importantly: NO caption is needed. We all get it: Fall, Halloween, witches, broomsticks, etc, whatever!

There are many many such TNY covers. Friendly, easy non -satirical, non -ironical subjects. Treated non- satirically and non- ironically. Played straight, by the art director and the illustrator, who have worked together to come up with the image. The message, if there is one, (It’s Fall! Enjoy!) is clear. But the covers are not always lacking in social and political commentary.

Here is another, from 2007 by Anita Kunz.

And now we should tell you something else about the TNY covers. Each cover, each illustration actually has a caption, a title if you will, but this text is nowhere in sight. You will have to look very hard to find this title, it’s on page 3 or 4, tucked in with the Table of Contents and in rather small type. Are you beginning to see a problem here? W/r/t the cover above… I think I get it and you probably do too. But I’m not 100% sure. Clearly, this image is a commentary on religion and women, sexuality, freedom of expression, east, west, and… maybe, California? But, who is the blonde? Frankly, at the risk of admitting my ignorance here… I am thoroughly unsure if she is someone specific, perhaps some political scandal chick, vs. a generic representation of free-wheelin’ Western (or at least rumored and depicted as such) feminine sexuality and bodaciousness. I just don’t know. I’m simply not sure. I’m sitting here thoughtfully considering it… and I’m still not certain. If I walked past this image on the newsstand, it would register quickly and with no small amount of blurred uncertainty. Just what is the New Yorker trying to tell me? What is their position? What are they promoting, supporting, criticizing? WHAT IS THE MESSAGE?

I’m left in my intellectual wonderland. And perhaps so are you. As is the rest of the world, because this is a globally published image. I found it in about 3 seconds with the help of Google.

The point, dear consumers-of-good-design is this: When text and images are not handled intelligently (no matter the intelligence of either or both), responsibly, hierarchically and with regard for BASIC principles of graphic design… it can be, and sometimes is, a very dangerous thing.

Finally, way down here at the bottom of my post, is the catalyzing subject of this rant. It would be more like me to place this image top, front, and center on the FourthWall blog because it would get your attention more than the TNY logo will… but guess what? Unless you had more context than even my title suggests, THAT would be graphically irresponsible, creating an instant blur of meaning and message, wide open for (mis)interpretation. What is designfarm saying? Isn’t Jodi a liberal? Why is she furthering the storm over that terrible image? Doesn’t she want Obama to win? YES, she does.

So, while I do love seeing Michelle in a big bad afro, it’s funny and cute, and I’m all about ‘fro’s these days… I just don’t think this is funny. It’s certainly not responsible, politically or editorially. It’s bad design, and it’s dangerous. Because when people walk by the newstands, they have no reason NOT to think that even good old liberal TNY magazine recognizes that Barak Obama MAY JUST BE A MUSLIM FUNDAMENTALIST, and his bigmouth sassy wife is PROBABLY A TERRORIST.

Why?

The answer is simple, but let’s push the point, just in case. A POWERFUL, COMPLEX IMAGE WITH NO CAPTION. NO WORDS. NO INFORMATION HIERARCHY.

Now, let’s open every designer’s friend, PhotoShop, just for fun, adding the cover image’s title, where, of course, it belongs. Let’s forget about fonts, placement, and other surface matters that we designers do care about but since this isn’t a real project, let’s just stick the title/caption on there, with a hierarchy that MAKES CERTAIN everyone “gets” it.

I think my point is clear, if ugly. And ugly is better than confusing, any day. The New Yorker, of course, was commenting on the fear generated by rampant rumor-mongering about Barack Obama, and his wife. They stand by their decision and are not apologizing. But they should. Don’t get me wrong, bad design is forgivable, no apology necessary…. when it’s toilet paper packaging, or toothpaste, and in many other contexts. Not this one.

The New Yorker made a big mistake in assuming that the 1 million people they allege as viewers of the magazine every week bring a level of context and understanding to their presentation of information, to their graphic design and editorial. Well, we don’t. Not those of us who are actually thinking about the barrage of images coming at us a mile a minute every minute of every day, and certainly not those of us who are less attuned.

MEMO TO THE NEW YORKER: WHAT WERE YOU THINKING when publishing potent, challenging, multi-level, complex ironic satiric visuals without accompanying text in a purposeful and clear information hierarchy?

OR, ARE YOU THINKING AT ALL?

And, if not, why not?

If you were asked to describe the photos above of a frog and a spider, you would likely identify them as camouflage—the coloration or pattern that helps an animal or organism blend in with its environment in order to hide from predators. Another iconic representation of camouflage is the patterning used on uniforms in military operations; as shown in the image below. We see this alot at the metro station here at our Takoma office, which is also located near Walter Reed Army Medical Center.

Obviously, using camouflage in war has been adopted from nature to simply hide soldiers and their equipment from the enemy. The elements that distinguish camouflage in clothing are color and pattern designed to match the surrounding environment; just like the frog and spider pictured above. Camoflauge tricks the brain and our perception into connecting the lines of printed shapes with the lines of the matching environment; trees, ground, leaves, shadows, dessert or snow.

In the last 100 years the Army Combat Uniform (ACU) has only been redesigned a small number of times. 2004 brought a significant change when military camouflage design turned from the organic shapes of the past toward a digitized (pixelated) patterning.

Why did the shapes change and what does this pattern resemble?

As a designer, I work with these little shapes called PIXELS every day. Pixels are the tiny, impercetible (to the naked eye) squares that make up pictures on a computer screen. The more pixels the in the display, the finer the detail that can be rendered. Pixel is short for Picture Element, a single point in a graphic image.

Today, pixels make up the digital camouflage pattern which is bit-mapped on a computer and printed onto the clothing. Modern warfare has become more prevalent in dessert and urban settings so the color black–which disrupts the camouflage and is not found in these environments–has been removed. The resulting pattern is more blurry and muted, as well as highly effective.

Below are some additional examples of pixels in use that date as far back as the 5th Century and into the modern day:

1. 5th Century Mosaics depict an ancient use of the pixel concept.

2. A Sunday on La Grande Jatte (1884) by George Seurat using a technique called Pointillism. Detail is pictured on the right.

3. 1980′s video games (Atari)

4. Fine artist, Chuck Close uses a similar inspiration and technique in the painting Lucas (1986–1987)

5. Digital images that are made of pixels. The picture to the right is an extreme close-up of the area highlighted by the red box on the Emerge cover design.

Pay close attention to the pixelation concept, technique and patterning and feel free to send in examples that you find in your surrounding environment.

Most of us have a complex, possibly even difficult, relationship to the color yellow. Graphically speaking, yellow is cautionary, a loud warning. Police line, DO NOT CROSS! And, here on the residential streets of Takoma Park, SLOW that oversized SUV Hybrid DOWN! Or lose your transmission. Did you know, there is a difference between a Speed Hump and a Speed Bump?

In our gardens, yellow is often an ugly unwanted weed, pictured above and conspiring to go to seed in order to multiply as April’s winds blow. Personally, I find it hard not to love a thing with a name like Dandylion. And, isn’t a weed just a misplaced plant? Once, my acupuncturist had Molly and I pick and boil bushels of the dandylion weed/plant to concoct an ancient Chinese skin salve. One woman’s weed… well, you get the point.

Regardless, let’s assume you are happier with a more delicate, purposeful yellow. Ruffly Narcissus (that’s daffodils to you non-gardners) are plentiful at the moment. In fact, the Royal Horticultural Society International Daffodil Register lists more than 26,400 named daffodils! Who knew?

I am obsessed and in love with yellow right now. Yellow scares me and pushes me away, but also, it’s seductive and appealing with its super-saturated, bright ‘n sunny, how-can-you-hate-me disposition. Yellow won’t be ignored. Yellow wants to cheer me up, no matter what. Throw in a little sugary pink and a touch of black or gray to hold it all down… and whoa, I am undone.

Most of us were told one of two things regarding wearing yellow:

A. Never, EVER wear yellow, it will make your (likely Asian or caucasian skin) look sallow.

B. Yellow really sets off your beautiful (likely brown) skin.

Despite falling solidly into Category A, I purchased the above pictured cutie jacket at Target this spring. I don’t care if I look terrible in it; it makes me feel so happy, so au courrant.

Surprisingly (or not) often the three of us here at designfarm come to work, from separate locations miles apart in the tri-state area, dressed as if for a color-coordinated photo shoot. I can assure you, no memo was issued. But today, we are all wearing yellow, pink and black.

The photo above–the only photo in this post not taken during my lunch hour today–was the last photo in my iphoto library before I uploaded Speed Hump, Narcissus, Jodi, Jess, and Sarah in our spring fashions, etc. for this essay… a delicious ring I designed this week, using unbelievably irresistable miniature cakes handmade in China. Art imitates life. And life this month is in yellow and pink.

Finding inspiration is a part of my daily life as a designer… and color choices are an element that I make decisions about every day. The colors above have been collected and inspired by the homes in the neighborhood of Takoma Park where designfarm is located. My co-worker and I often take walks up and down the steep hills of eclectic, historic Takoma park where I can be inspired after just 15 minutes.

How simple! Who would think that a color chosen for the exterior of a home might inspire a designer like me, possibly influencing the colors I use in projects. With spring and summer right around the corner, I am excited to see how these colors will apply to my work. It’s great to have an unconventional way to find inspiration for color simply by looking closely at my environment. Color palettes appear in nature, while shopping, at home, in a favorite painting, while traveling, through historical trends, or even in my case—outside the office door. It’s fascinating to simply take the time to reflect on what I’m seeing and how it makes me feel.

Try thinking like a designer. Take a walk in your neighborhood…snap some photos of the surrounding environment with a particular focus on color palettes from houses, buildings, gardens, and trees. Notice how certain colors in nature can especially enhance the beauty and contrast of one another. Go shopping… retail stores are always up on the latest color trends in fashion and interior design. When travelling… note colors from other cultures, even just up the street in Chinatown or on a short weekend trip to another city.

Looking for color might just inspire you when you buy your next outfit or pair of leggings, when you get a tattoo, decorate a room, choose colors for your wedding, or even when painting the exterior of your home. In turn, you could inspire someone simply by the colors you choose, as my Takoma neighbors have inspired me.

I studied Fine Art in school and back then, when I told people I was an artist, they would look at me funny and say: “Oh wow, that’s great. I can’t draw a straight line.” As if that had anything to do with it.

As a professional designer, I get a similar reaction when confessing my occupation: “Oh wow, that’s cool. I’m not at all creative.” As if that has anything to with it.

Or does it? Creativity is generally the commodity most people think that we sell. You know, that je ne sais quois… the magic that we call forth when faced with any assignment from Foreign Policy to A Summer Concert Series at the National Museum of the American Indian. But certain buzz out there in the design community is challenging this potentially old-fashioned notion, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot.

Witness the photo above; a breakfast served to me last weekend by my beau. He would be the first to tell you he is NOT a designer. A sensitive tough guy from North Jersey? Yep. A musician in skinny jeans and pointy shoes? Check. A bona fide jock and sports spectating fanatic? Oh yeah. A designer? No way in H-E-Double-Hockeysticks. Or baseball bats.

But. Uh… look at that breakfast! With a little PhotoShop work, this could be featured in Martha Stewart Living. Ok, perhaps quite a bit of PhotoShop work… but blame that on the yours truly, the photographer. Not the… um, designer. So let’s call breakfast Clue No. 1.

Clue No. 2: The Collection. Yes, we designers collect stuff. In fact, whole blogs could be devoted to the collections of designers because we are obsessive, insane, manic, gotta-have-it-now collectors. I’m pretty sure ebay (go on, your boss isn’t looking, hit that link) was invented just for us… to make global collecting a click away. Pictured above, the BF’s collection of miniature buildings. He has over a hundred, I think. They are arranged to resemble amazing almagamated skylines. NYC. Miami Beach. Paris. Etc. He loves the AIA bookstore. But… noooooo. He’s NOT a designer.

Clue No. 3: Black and white photography. Beautifully framed, purposefully hung (although Peggy Lee should have been located on the other side of Duke and Ella so she faces them rather than outward, but nevermind. Details, details.)

And finally, Clue No. 4: UniWatch. Aside from watching every one of the 2,756 baseball games played each season (he wishes!), the BF is an avid devotee of this site. Yes, it is about sports uniforms. To quote the tagline: The Obsessive Study of Athletics Aesthetics. Do you LOVE it? A site about color, typography, logos (and log creep), style, and other design issues as related to sports attire! From the site’s About page:

UniWatch is a media project that deconstructs the finer points of sports uniforms in obsessive and excruciating detail. It has nothing to do with fashion — it’s about documenting and maintaining the visual history of sports design, and about minutiae fetishism as its own reward. If that concept doesn’t make sense to you, no problem — Uni Watch definitely isn’t for everyone, and there have always been people who Don’t Get It™. But for those who understand the pleasures of detail obsession, programmatic classification systems, information overload, and sports history, you’ve come to the right place.

They’re NOT designers though. Nah, those UniWatchers are simply maintaining a visual history of design. Documenting, classifying, obsessing.

So, to return to my point, because I know I had one when I started. Oh yeah, creativity. I’m not so sure that’s what it’s really about my friends. Design is about hunting, gathering, uncovering, discovering, obsessing. And then analyzing, processing, organizing, solving, communicating, informing.

I’m not trying to devalue what we, as professional practitioners do/are/become… with our years of schooling, endless apprenticeship and hard work in the design trenches. Oh contraire! I’m just saying, let’s demystify this a little bit. Look at your own life. Or the life of a loved one. There are places that you connect the dots, bring stuff together, juxtapose the unusual, analyze, organize, create hierarchies. This is the practice of design.

But ok, it doesn’t really make you a designer. I was just kidding about that part. Another post for another time.