Sting Ray!

Sting Ray in the sun.

If this car doesn't conjure up "Mad Men" type associations, like excellent James Bond movie getaways and hip, swingin' jazz tunes, you ain't alive. Feelin' it, and feeling groovy about it: that's diggin' classic cars in a hugely serious way, kids. 

P.S. - The paint set on this ride is so iridescent, it's like there's small, glowing points of starlight mixed into blue finish: a real tight job that only shows it's true colors up close and personal, master craftsman-like. Yeah, baby!

Georgian Court

Welcome to Georgian Court.

Last week, while photographing a enigmatic stone house, I noticed a "For Rent" sign parked on the lawn of a 50s mod building. Stylin'! Prominently displayed on the brick front is a gorgeous, cheerful script of a logo, emblematic of the kind of "can-do" energy that sparked the post-war Baby Boom, fueled by an economy pumped full of spoils and profits from a war won well. 

Seems very quiet and quite safe.

In an effort to regain some of the normality that was lost during war time, conformity was key. A soldier in enemy territory stands out much more by not blending in, and it was a lesson learned well. After looking at the grounds, I walked up the small hill to a surreal picture of similarity: each and every apartment was exactly the same, and I mean, down to the very last detail. 

It's well-manicured. Each bush is the same.

There are no anomalies of any kind in the small, handkerchief-sized lawns; no wild, weird decorations, no decor at all, actually. Everything had a comforting, bland sameness to it, and that's exactly the point: to be the same, to have the same things, to live the same day over and over again, without any traumas, shocks, or surprises, as a relief to a post-traumatic life. In it's own way, it's a lot scarier than the dark, mysterious house next door, for the sheer effort it makes to present a unified front, like a artificially fake neighborhood in Disneyland, unmarked by any sort of identifying characteristics whatsoever. 

I bet nothing ever really changes around here.

There's a desperate quality in maintaining that kind of approach, which stands out in stark contrast to say, an overblown, badly decorated kitschy style. A slight, warm wind swirled through the leaves that day, as I left the apartment grounds exactly the way it has always been, and will always be, for here on out, until it crumbles to the ground. How's that for a good scare?

Creepy. Nothing moves but the leaves. Where the people at?

Reading

Ah, that "Q" is perfection. Well done!

I've been a reader for so long, I don't actually remember when I couldn't read. I know I was a very early reader, about 2 or 3 years old, and so was my oldest brother. My mother said he taught himself to read The New York Times so he could check the Mets score, and that certainly may be true. 

I know I attended a pre-K reading class for toddlers at the local library, because I begged my parents to take me to school so I could read, and that was the closest they could find to nursery school before 
I went to an actual school, during the brief year we lived in rural Pennsylvania after leaving the city, before settling down in the Hudson River region.

Discovery and a new chapter.

It's hard for me to describe an experience I do so fluently; it's almost a subconscious thing at this point. I take in information so quickly visually, that I see things way before the lay person can. I've likened in to being an expert swimmer dipping and swirling through the clearest, warmest tropical waters (and I am that, too). Reading is a feeling so sensuous and fluid, few hobbies can replicate that kind of pleasure for me, and I know the same is true for other hardcore readers. 
We occasionally speak between nose dives.

Oh, I've designed flaps like this before.

Few hobbies create the kind of erudition and experience that bibliophiles have, with the exceptions of medical fields and clergy. 
We empathize immediately with the writer, because as soon as we read words, we're right there with the author. Some of us are so adept at it, we work at it professionally through publishing and media. Unlike a purely visual artist, I am also a writer and reader: the harmonious blend of a variety of highly skilled sets that transcend majors taught at the leading universities.

Lots of decorative elements and ink coverage. Some gaps in typesetting.

And so it is that I can talk with ease to an advanced physicist at their level, because I read their words when I design books for the students majoring in their curriculum. I sing along perfectly to Ella Fitzgerald while I riff through a series of graphics that vibe off one another, like a flutist times himself to a jazz pianist, either in the planned syncopation of an orchestration or the more advanced styling of an abstract expressionist who goes off on a tangent. 

To find someone who can follow along like that is the rarest of the rare, and just like the books we collect, so too are the odd ducks of the creative world who finally find their intellectual homes within the great literary houses of the world: those weird combinations of dancer, musician, photographer, model, writer, reader, designer, engineer, artist, and muse, because we are all of those things, and so much more. Open a book, and come find us. We'll be there between the vanilla-scented pages of a hundred year old volume and the near-constant flickering of a computer screen. See you soon.

Type: Movies, Mad Men, and Lemonade Stands

The "Mysterious Mr. Moto", in an American kind of Chinese.

Today's post is a set of shots I've been collecting over the past few weeks, so I decided to post them in one, big, fat, font post. Yay! 
The first example comes to you via the Movies! channel, courtesy of the classic movie Mysterious Mr. Moto (1938), with Peter Lorre. I'm a sucker for cheesy pseudo-Asian fonts, especially authentically retro ones like these, redolent of a white guy made up in poorly drawn Chinese eye makeup; it fools no one. A fine specimen of typecasting gone wrong, and cultural appropriation. Please to enjoy!

Uh oh. "Devil's Island". That sounds bad, in a good way.

The map is cartography perfection, though. Nothing wrong or off here. A gorgeous movie opener, overall.

Good advice!

The next type sample comes off the back of a coupon I clipped, now expired, and then flipped over to reveal this gem of a tagline from your friendly neighborhood advertiser. Sage advice, indeed.

Organic is just good all around, type included.

This fontography sample came to me from the fridge one fine morning, friendly and inviting, with the perfect cheerful "Good Morning, Sunshine!" message facing me from the back of a hastily placed half and half carton sitting on the top shelf. It really is a beautiful piece of typesetting, a complete type block set right, and it's interesting, too. That's how you do "inviting" and "pretty" with black display type: it's a gorgeous piece of work on it's own that also fits the artwork just so. The former (M)ad Man in me is pleased. I'm not alone in my cause for good, healthy products, and you can see that the designer cared enough to take the time to craft a package the consumer can enjoy and also feel proud of, through an organic purchase that can feel unjustly costly at times. Nice job!

Classic Americana: the homemade lemonade stand sign, now discarded on the sidewalk, like a kid's dreams about money and enterprise

Like a children's toy abandoned in a yard, this discarded lemonade sign I saw on the sidewalk one afternoon took me back to my own childhood in the country, boringly slow and stingy when it came to money and Scout badges. We never earned enough to justify the time we spent on our pursuit, because there's one car every hour or so on Hudson Valley back roads, which is a good lesson in of itself. It served me and my brother's well when we entered the supposedly hallowed and sacred halls of Big Business in the Big Apple, which is actually our second home, thanks to our very own "Mad Man", our Dad (shhh...don't tell anyone our big "secret"). We don't waste time, because time is a commodity you can't buy or get back once it's gone, like your health. Clever, right?

The infamous Saul Bass, in movies now and forever.

I grabbed my fine, photo-taking device when this famous Saul Bass opener flashed across the t.v. screen, again from the classic movie channel. It's simply one of the best graphics I've ever seen in my life, and you should see it very, very soon. Google Anatomy of a Murder, and be dazzled. It's a humbling piece of art because it really is perfect: on posters and packaging, as motion art, as a set of static images, and a shining example of the power a great graphic has: simple and unforgettable.

"Bye bye", translated into jazz hands and Oscar worthy graphics.

Many a graphic design student feels awe seeing it for the first time, which is why I'm so glad I was technically an Illustration major while at R.I.S.D.: "flawless" can be so very daunting to a youngster taking it all in, trying to learn and keep up at the same time you're desperate to figure it all out: how can I be an artist? What is my style? Will I ever be capable of doing something like that? Dare I hope and dream, even with hours of studio time and practice? What about all that money spent? IS it (and am I) worth it?! We didn't know what awaited us in the world or how it comes together for us as designers, thinkers, intellectuals, and dreamers, and that's a scarier prospect than any business meeting could ever be, on any given day of the week.

The oft-avoided bestseller (for obvious reasons), but the book is set well.

Finally, here's a nicely done chapter opener, something I don't often do as a book designer and art director, because covers are huge, colorful and expensive marketing pieces that take up most of my time, but I appreciate their quiet strength when I see them just the same. When I do find myself in a position that affords me the time to typeset a page that goes with my cover design, I relish it for the synchronicity I so often don't find in business, because of the conflicting production schedules we have in trade publishing. Sigh....oh, well.

Design is hope made visible.

 That's it for now. See ya next time. Y'all come back now, ya here? 

Street Signs: Below Poverty Levels

On the other side of the tracks.

Type: Seasons Greetings and Holiday Reunions

I hope so! It was my Christmas gift to myself!

For Holiday Blues, Post-Holiday Blues, and Other Familial Horrors.

Cards from a recent trip to the city.

I'm writing about type again (so soon?!) because I built up a nice collection of examples over the holidays that I've been wanting to post: big, bold white type on a cheerful red package that was a gift I gave myself, a really nice book cover atop a table at the local library, and a couple of cards I picked up on a recent trip to the city to see an old college friend. Good times ;)

Type: Black and White

Not subtle.

Today's type selections are lessons in contrast, in more ways than one. Black and white is the first typesetting we know of: black ink rolled onto type blocks and then pressed onto paper. Simple. Or is it? 

I don't know the characters, but....

Just as there are many ways to print a book, so there are many ways to render letters, due to the natural complexity of human vision. We see an enormous range of information quickly and very well, just like any predator with eyes set in the front, creating an unobstructed field of vision, which is great for fighting. And other pursuits.

....I know an arm bar when I see one.

Enjoy the fights tonight, battle hounds.

Type: Time/Travel

Titanic Sans Serif: big, clean, eye-catching, well-spaced for easy reading.

I saw the bulk of this monster special one night streaming video online, because the title caught my eye. I thought it was another gloriously bad SyFy monster movie of the week. Even better, we go back in time millions of years, when actual living monsters roamed the earth. It's got plenty of wacky humans though, if you desire that same level of human engagement typically present in the modern day scifi flick. Here's a tip: poorly dressed scientists hunting snakes in the wild. 'Nuff said. Check it out. It's gross and scary and awesome.
http://www.smithsonianchannel.com/sc/web/full-episodes/titles/16708/titanoboa-monster-snake

For the armchair traveler: "Come on in and take a look."

The next excellent type sample came through the mail, in the form of a travel catalog. It's a simple but extremely effective form of visual communication; a seemingly average piece of printed information that masks an underlying intellectualism that's quite keen and very sophisticated. It's warm, inviting, and friendly, asking a timeless question to its' audience: "If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would that be?" The expectation is thus: some practice winter flight, a panic brought on by the cold and the snow, indicative of someone who is at odds with themselves and their locale. Many will see the high price tags and be satisfied with a cheaper (and easier) form of travel that's available to the armchair traveler; a wishing and hoping that's a pleasant form of dreaming not needing actualization to have a lot of value to the viewer. Still others, would-be adventurers and wealthy donating alumni surely, want "in" immediately, for their future. What kind of trekker are you? Think on it, and dream.

 http://www.pinterest.com/mariedoucette/travel/

Hudson Valley: Store Signs

....unless you're a Mixed Martial Artist.

I love store signs, especially the antiques, the more retro, the better: neon ones, hand drawn ones, and those tall peeling paint signs from the last century. There's an abundance of great store fronts in my town. Have a look for yourself.

Peckman's Wines & Liquors.

Sneaking down the alley...

A small town sign: the homegrown militia.

Type, glorious, type, of all shapes, colors, and sizes.

http://www.pinterest.com/mariedoucette/type/

Type: Ye Olde Printers' Shop

Foundry type.

Years ago, printers set type by hand, using complicated blueprints from designers as a guide. It seems like something from the 18th century now, because that's how fast technology moved has forward, but when I first became an apprentice in publishing, I still did some mechanicals (the schemata for books that go the printer: http://astoundingartifacts.blogspot.com/2011/03/original-science-fiction-artwork-pt-4.html) by hand. We used "stat cameras" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stat_camera) that made "repro", terms from graphic arts from a time gone by the was only in the 90s. Some people are nostalgic for hand set type, but rest assured, it was a long, slow, tedious, repetitive process best suited for temperaments that didn't change quickly. I wouldn't design today if I had to do it.

Plates for printing.

We separated into cover designers and interior designers for books because the rapid progress sorted out brains into those who could absorb computers well and those would couldn't, and most of the time it became the difference between the flash of art on the cover that drew in buyers in 3-5 seconds (which is how fast we take in information visually), and those we preferred the pace of turning a page slowly one by one. Oh, I know crossovers who can do both (yes, I can), but for me, this type of nostalgia has become about those who can merge left and right brain tasks, with the stereotypical "artist" or "designer" who thought our work was really about one task, and one task only, in the dust. For masters, it never really was. Welcome to the new world, global thinkers. Stretch out and grow (and think), because this is our time to shine (once again). 

Read it and weep....for joy:

http://www.pinterest.com/mariedoucette/reading-writing-books/.

Type: Book Design

A little ramble.

So much of my design life has been the domain of books, that I forget it as a genre of typography sometimes. I'm mostly an image-based designer, and they typically send folks like us to the art department to design the covers, which are usually photographic or illustrative in nature. I began my apprenticeship as a production assistant to learn the ropes, and in the process of doing so, I learned what each and every department does, because that was my job, and that's exactly what my boss (and first professional mentor) wanted, because we discussed it at my hiring. 

Pieces of string.

I spent my time at night teaching myself the requisite software that I did not learn to design with at school. I had one extremely basic computer class for illustration, a touch of Photoshop onscreen in a photo journalism class, and that was it. In fact, we started a petition for desktop publishing classes that so threatened the old guard teachers in the ivory tower, my mentor there told me some profs put us on a blacklist. None of them are working art directors or designers today ;)

BAM!

One of the first designers I met at St. Martin's Press many moons ago is the incredible Judy Abbate. She worked in the Design department as an interior designer. In books, that doesn't mean carpets and drapes; that means the designers who estimate the manuscript's page count, design the style guides and chapter headings, and work with the typesetters. It's an art of its' own. Fortunately for me, Judy's also an illustrator, and she knew the big distance that existed between my degree and the working world. She gave me use of her work computer for me to learn on after hours at night, when the other designers left for the day, so I did. I bought myself a set of Peachpit Press books (http://www.peachpit.com/), and I taught myself the reigning creative suite trilogy of the times, QuarkXpress, Illustrator, and Photoshop.

Kara Walker.

Because of my imaging skills as a photo minor in school (I was a teaching assistant and darkroom technician for b&w photography), I went upstairs to the Art department, to learn about book cover design. That's where types like us go because we have the same skills as the freelancers we hire, so it's essential we speak their language. My first two interviews were with photographers, both women of world renown; Rosalind Solomon and Annie Lebowitz, and both were for darkroom assistants. I didn't get those jobs, because I had a portfolio with a defined style and my own P.O.V., but I did get my third interview in publishing. A friend of a friend from high school worked in PR at SMP. He walked me to meet my first boss after I went through HR, and said "Hire her!". I was the only person in my graduating class with a job at our commencement ceremony, because I graduated mid-session before my classmates, because I tore through my studio requirements after leaving my SUNY school so I could leave school to work. I worked three jobs while at RISD (the third was making pizza), and my father only paid for a year and a half worth of schooling for our educations, which was a phenomenal bargain for a guy with four kids. There was one scholarship available from Hallmark Cards for Illustration Majors at the time (for about $1000/semester), and my married friend who'd already worked as a graphic designer prior to RISD got it.

Q&A a day.

It's funny, but after my springtime trip to MoMa, I found myself more excited in the bookstore than I did with the work on the walls, yet another indication to me of the solidity of my abilities, how deeply rooted they are to who I am. Books are not just what I "do" for a living, they are parts of me: I read, I write, I illustrate, I photograph, I design, I publish, I edit, and I'm hungry for more (nod to the Tony Bourdain "No Reservations" intro). It's our vocation. Looking back, I see I captured one of Judy's books on the tables at the NY Public Library, Q&A a day, and as always with her work, it stood out for perfectly balanced classicism that's never dull. That's the mastery of it, and that's what keeps us coming back for more. Stay strong, Judy. This one's for you: http://www.youcaring.com/medical-fundraiser/big-surgery-for-my-love/71246.

By Judith Stagnito Abbate.

This week in TYPE

It was a rich week for me with type. 
I found great examples almost everywhere I went: the label on a cute stuffed animal, crafts displayed at the local library, the nameplate of a dentist at a professional office building, and 
a killer edition of ESPN magazine devoted to the sports of boxing, MMA, and wrestling. What's NOT fun about Lucha Libre?!

 

What kind of 
visual week did you have?

 
Yo, check it: http://www.pinterest.com/mariedoucette/type/.

Type: Everyday, People.

Exit, stage left.

Every day you see intelligent typography and sophisticated typesetting, from the lowly sign to the most rarefied art book in a museums' collection. If you can read text, you're looking at graphic design. Well done!

If you also enjoy type and typesetting, from the rare and divine, to the humble and working class, join me in my quest on Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/mariedoucette/type/.