First, from the accompanying essay by Geoffrey Bensusan:

“Hella Basu’s calligraphy shows itself apt, varied and assured; its fitness for purpose unquestionable, its deployment as one might say most inventive, the execution impeccable; it has a lineage clearly honorable but not trad and while accessible, as communication should be, it remains exciting.”

Also (speaking well before the computer typography boom):

“It is the prized consistency of machine-made lettering that generates the demand for contrasting forms, inventions not provided for on transfer sheets. For in the hands of the skilled designer-lettering-artist-calligrapher the alphabet is almost as flexible and expressive a medium as illustration itself in evoking a mood, creating a feeling, reinforcing a fact.”

Aside from her birth date and place (Germany) the only other info I found was a single quote purported to be from Hella:

“In making any object, the philosophy behind its creation is ‘art,’ the planning is ‘design,’ and its execution is ‘craft.’”

Hope you enjoyed.

As always these were just the examples that caught my eye, not necessarily perfectly representative of the state of design and illustration in 71 / 72.

This annual had an added bonus in the form of an introduction by one Paul Rand, a fella you designey types might have heard of. I decided rather than chop his text up into little quotes in the post I’d just make the whole thing available as a pdf, and here it is: Paul Rand Intro to Graphis Annual 71 / 72. Enjoy you design dorks.

More to come.

I’m sorry you had to absorb that all in one massive dose but as a person interested in design, and more importantly as a proud owner of both a cornea and an optic nerve, I felt it was my duty to drive home this point: Television weather-infographics are pitifully, horribly, inexcusably bad. These are pieces of design which we seek out every single day for their intended functionality, often first thing in the morning, when we are half asleep and most vulnerable, but which hammer at our eyeballs like Schuster conundrums made of broken neon tubes and melted crayon shavings. I ask this, here and now, of all the television weather-infograpic makers– Why?! Why must it be this way?

Television infographics in general are pretty much out of control so far as I can see. Their scrolling, swirling, swooping gloss has at this point far overpowered the meager amounts of information they are meant to shuttle efficiently into our brains. They do not, if I had to put a totally fabricated number on it, contribute in any way to that purpose 75% of the time. They are the gaudy prefabricated ornament on the facade of pure televised information. Howard Roark would dynamite your satellites! Well, were he a real person… who was able to fly… into space… carrying one of those old-timey plunger boxes… Anyway what I’m saying is from sports broadcasts to news broadcasts the infographics are poorly thought out, overused, detrimental to effective transference of data, and did I mention spectacularly ugly?

As for weather graphics in particular I just can’t help but wonder, where did networks get the idea all that crap was necessary? It seems like presenting the weather forecast ought to be quite a simple operation. Temperature and precipitation projections for 5 days. Why all the confused hubbub? Best as I can surmise there are only two possibilities– meteorological hubris or graphical incompetency. Perhaps a combination of both.

If there are any young people out there reading this who are enamored by the glitzy and glamourous life of a television weather graphics professional and are planning on making a career of it, let me offer these few tips:

1) Nothing needs to move. Not raindrops, not snowflakes, not wind marks, not sun-rays. We already know how rain and that other stuff works.

2) Remember there are other colors besides ultramarine blue, pure red, and neon yellow. Use them, but please not all at once.

3) Don’t try to get to clever and “nuanced” with your atmospheric icons. All we need to know is whether it’s sunny and dry or cloudy and wet, the numbers fill in the rest. Having one icon with a single cloud, another with two slightly more wispy clouds, and a third with a darker more rounded cloud does not help us at all. If you want to interpret weather conditions in sensitive and unique ways paint landscapes.

4) Go to design school, take a few courses at the local community college, or at very least have lunch with your highschool art teacher a couple of times. Please?

5) One word: Standardization!

This last would go a long way in cutting down on the eye contusions. If we could just agree on a few simple symbols which would hereafter represent important weather conditions things would be a lot easier. If weather icons were standardized a symbol and two numbers would deftly tell us all we needed to know. No need for interpretation.

Well, hope you feel gratified, my having finally voiced this displeasure which I know was secretely eating away at all of you. Sometimes there is such a thing as too polite you know? That’s how you get ulcers.

Next time: Shampoo bottles!

“Meerschaum has been called Venus of the Sea, White Goddess, sepiolite, sea-foam or froth, the Aristocrat of smoking substances! It has been identified as hydrous magnesium silicate, an opaque white-gray or cream colored mineral of the soapstone family. It has been written as H4Mg;Si30 ,o, 3S .O^MgO^H^O, 2MgO, S,0;-14H20 and even Mg4(H;0)3(OH),SitO,5-3H;0! Whatever its composition, meerschaum is not the bone of the sepia or cuttle fish, the residue or fusion of decomposed sea shells, petrified sea foam or a clay composition. It is a mineral! Mined 30 to 450 feet below the surface of the earth, the magnesium content provides strength while the hydrogen and oxygen contribute to its porosity. It is, in the words of one, “. . . soft and light as a fleeting dream, creamy, delicate and sweet as the complexion of young maidenhood.” -Benjamin Rapaport, A Complete Guide to Collecting Antique Pipes. 1979.

“Meerschaum is a German word meaning ‘sea foam’— it derived its name because it often was seen floating on the Black Sea. The German term probably has been used because German-speaking people controlled the meerschaum-pipe industry until World War II. Also, most of the craftsmen who began making meerschaum pipes in the United States came from either Germany or Austria.

Meerschaum is a very soft, porous, hydrous silicate of magnesia that is found in pockets within clay or serpentine deposits. Its origin is unknown, but it is believed to have been formed from the metamorphic shells and bones of tiny prehistoric sea creatures. Its geological name, assigned in the mid-nineteenth century by a German mineralogist, is sepiolite, from the Greek “Sepio,” or cuttlefish bone, which it resembles.” -Carl Ehwa, Jr. The Book of Pipes & Tobacco. 1974.

“The discovery and initial use of meerschaum as a substance for making pipes is shrouded in much mystery and myth. Even the origin of the word is obscure but the most generally accepted account is that a certain Hungarian nobleman, Count Andrassy, on an official mission to Turkey in 1723, received a lump of meerschaum from the Sultan. Returning to Pesth, on the east bank of the Danube, he gave it to a cobbler who, when not making or mending shoes, made wood pipes; the Count was one of his patrons. Another tale relates that when John Sobieski, King of Poland, rescued the beleaguered city of Vienna from invading Turks, he had seen many Turkish articles, including pipes; the articles were made of luletaschi, a white mineral called pipestone believed to have been meerschaum. And, there is yet a third story which meerschaum pipes were being made by a French artist, Louis Pierre Puget, student of the Italian sculptor Berini, who carved the first meerschaum in 1652.

Meerschaum could have been used even earlier than 1652 but however devious, cryptic or circuitous the route, meerschaum came from the East and was popularized in the West.” -Benjamin Rapaport, A Complete Guide to Collecting Antique Pipes. 1979.

“No matter who actually was responsible for the introduction of the meerschaum pipe, it steadily gained favor among wealthy smokers throughout Europe. After 1750 pipes of the new material were in exceptionally heavy demand. Unlike clay, however, which was available to everyone, meerschaum was restricted to the rich and titled who could afford to commission the handiwork of a carver or an ‘artist.’ The meerschaum rapidly became the pipe of the stylish smoker and the effort and money spent by these smokers to outdo their peers probably accounts for the artistic meerschaums created in those times.

In many cases, the fact that these masterpieces are pipes is almost incidental;

indeed, a great many never were smoked. Some of the very large, magnificent pieces adorned cabinets and shelves as objects of art. One wealthy Englishman had a lovely pipe made for himself even though he didn’t smoke. When the pipe-maker had finished the job, the gentleman instructed him to color the bowl before delivering it. For a period of two or three weeks, the pipe was smoked by every pipe-maker in the shop until the color became very rich and dark. The gentleman was well pleased and promptly placed his seasoned treasure on the mantle.

As artisans and wood-carvers turned to pipe-making, they soon became swamped with more orders than they could fill. By the 1850s, enterprising merchants and pipe makers set up factories that employed hundreds of carvers. Between that time and the years just before World War I, when briar began to dominate the industry, the thousands of meerschaum pipes created in factories finally found their way into the hands of middle-class smokers, who now were able to indulge in what only nobles and the rich had been able to afford in previous years.” -Carl Ehwa, Jr. The Book of Pipes & Tobacco. 1974.

“A new meerschaum pipe is generally either pure white or a very pale, creamy yellow color. As it is smoked, tars and oils seep closer to the waxed surface of the shank and then the bowl. Pinks dissolve into deepening amber reds and the golds become a richer, golden brown. The coloring ultimately approaches black-brown or a muted, dark cherry. These changes take place very gradually, the seasoning progressing so slowly that it almost goes unnoticed. It is as if one were watching a very cautious but exquisite autumn slip stealthily into its colors. In addition to its beauty, the meerschaum smokes quite dryly and, after a time, tobacco smoked in it tastes somewhat more delicate and sweeter than it does in a briar.

Today, with the exception of the fine carved heads produced by Andreas Bauer in Vienna, almost all meerschaum pipes are fashioned into shapes corresponding to those of standard briar pipes. In marked contrast, those carved by artisans years ago featured clusters of exquisite figures in relief or forming the entire body of the pipe. The bowl often was slipped in unobtrusively so as to avoid disrupting a battle scene, or dancing nymphs pouring wine for an amber-faced Bacchus.” -Carl Ehwa, Jr. The Book of Pipes & Tobacco.1974.

“It has been said that the cigarette smoking craze in the United States had a significant effect on the meerschaum industry. Further, ‘meerschaum is no longer so fashionable as it once was. Probably the numerous cheap imitations, the extreme readiness to break of the genuine article, and the fantastic designs into which it was fashioned, have led to its decadence in public estimation.’

All good things come to an end at some point in time. The delicate and slight, even the massive, the bulky meerschaums were impractical, never fashioned for a hurried Twentieth Century industrialized world of assembly lines, crowded buses and elevators and middle class income. But the magical and captivative nature of meerschaum has kept its popularity alive and the ranks are now augmented by a new breed of young, curious and enlightened collectors committed to preserve the cult of the White Goddess! -Benjamin Rapaport, A Complete Guide to Collecting Antique Pipes.” 1979.

“A perfect Meerschaum pipe is decidedly            
one of the choicest and rarest gifts of
the gods; but like all choice and rare
gifts, it is a source of considerable
anxiety to the owner. Like women, its,
‘name is frailty.’ As originally taken in
hand, and presented to the lips, nothing
can exceed the loveliness of its looks—its
delicious smoothness, its graceful
rotundity of form, and apparent innocence
from everything that can tarnish a
reputation. But, alas! you take it as
you take a wife, ‘for better and for
worse;’ and again, alas! it does not fare
better with the smoker and his Meerschaum
than with man and wife.”

-The Smoker’s Guide, Philosopher and Friend
A Veteran of Smokedom, 1876

Most of the images above are from the two books quoted, A Complete Guide to Collecting Antique Pipes and The Book of Pipes & Tobacco. A few were found online.

Hope you enjoyed.

Evidently Ferriss never designed a single noteworthy building, but after his death a colleague said “he influenced my generation of architects more than any other man.” With The Metropolis of Tomorrow it’s easy to see why. It’s beautiful with idealistic and poetically expressed ideas about the then current state of urban architecture (including the only recently enacted zoning laws) and a fond hope that architects to come would put concept, human experience, and emotional response before mere capitalistic considerations.

The book is broken up into three sections titled, Cities of Today, Projected Trends, and An Imaginary Metropolis. In choosing which images to post I’ve decided to leave aside the first chapter with its renderings of real buildings of the period, and focus instead on a few examples from the last two chapters, all of which were imagined by Ferriss to illustrate the key concepts of his text.

Hope you enjoy.

For a few more bits on Ferris see the following: 

Place, Power, and the Human Being.

Tangible Futures example: Hugh Ferriss’s delineations.

High Priest of the New York Skyscraper Sex Cult.

Lastly The ASAI happens to offer an annual award for the best architectural illustrators which is named for Ferris. See here for past winners.

More to come…

Consumers of 1800’s America were as disparate a group of peoples as one could imagine. They were an ad-man’s demographic nightmare. A focus group without a focus. They did not yet truly share a common language and certainly didn’t share a common culture. Simple commerce in this age before wholesale could be a challenging proposition.

Characterizing an “average” customer from a shop owner’s perspective in this melange would be an almost comical task, except for the single obvious trait which everyone shared: the inability to understand one another. Add to this the fact that most people were illiterate and you have the seeds of what would ultimately grow into a ubiquitous American sight: the cigar-store Indian.

“Visual trade signs” were essentially stand-ins for written signposts that might have been incomprehensible to potential customers, many of whom were immigrants or illiterate. Chiropodists (early-day podiatrists) displayed large white feet, teahouses had Chinamen to lure customers, pharmacies used an oversized mortar and pestle, Locksmiths featured large keys, pawnshops were known by three balls. The most popular, however, were the tobacconist’s cigar-store Indian. Tens of thousands of shop figures were carved in the United States and Canada in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries.

The origin of the wooden Indian dates back to England in 1617, when small wooden figures called “Virginie Men” were placed on countertops to represent tobacco companies. The “Indian” likeness became synonymous with tobacco products for a century after.

After the Indian became recognized as the standard smoke-shop symbol, certain tobacconists sought to distinguish themselves by using other types of figures. Turks and sultans (for turkish tobacco), Punch figures (which survived into the modern age on rolling papers), Scottish Highlanders (for snuff), baseball players, and “racetrack touts or dandies” with jeering faces dressed in houndstooth coats and top hats.

In America the vast majority of the sculptures were created by shipcarvers trained in traditional Anglo-American woodcarving techniques. In the 1820’s steam ships brought about the decline of sailing ships and these shipcarvers had to find new avenues on which to ply their trade.

The carvers themselves coined the phrase “the image business” to characterize the wide range of shop figures that they were eventually called upon to create. And they were very successful. By mid-century, the phenomenon had reached the dimensions of a fad, with the figures becoming an essential part of any shopkeepers’ operations.

Most of these artisans worked out of the east coast and may never have actually even seen an American Indian. As such they are often characterized as “looking like white men in native garb.” Shaped by nineteenth-century Anglo-American values, they also reflected the tenor of the times, including racial and gender stereotyping and an embryonic popular culture. The cigar-store Indian typified what is now commonly considered the birth of modern advertising techniques in America.

Although some figures were made of cast metal, the great majority were carved from wood. The preferred material for the statues was white pine, usually three to seven-foot sections of masts purchased at spar yards in the maritime district. The carvers’ tools were axes, mallets, and chisels. Industrialization, which was well under way by this time, never made much headway into the craft of “trade figure” carving, and so surviving statues represent an interesting blend of folk, fine, and popular art of the time.

For a variety of reasons, including over supply, changing tastes, and new modes of advertising, the production of new figures virtually ceased by 1900. They were increasingly seen as old-fashioned symbols of an era that was rapidly passing away.

As a result of the 1910 urban-sidewalk-obstruction laws countless Indian statues were sold from the commercial streets and slowly disappeared. During the depression most wooden cigar-store Indians were broken down and burned as firewood.

Of the tens of thousands once carved it is thought that now only a tiny fraction of original trade figures survive. A fact which the people whose likenesses these statues stereotyped are none too broken up about I’m sure.

I find it interesting that this visual mode of salesmanship, which is one of the earliest tropes of advertising, was created to draw in illiterates by employing obvious stereotypes and the most simplistic symbolic language… Looking at the lion’s share of advertising today I can’t help but wonder whether it has really changed that much, in form or ultimate function. Just a thought.

This post incorporated information from the following sources which you should look to for more in-depth information on the subject:

The Image Business, Shop and Cigar Store Figures in America. By Ralph Sessions.

Cigar Store Indian History and the Origin of Tobacco Shops.

The Museum of American Folk Art page on the subject.

Cigar Store Figures.

Also see:

Peace Party for an American Indian viewpoint.

Sidewalk Sculptures. Cigar-Store Indians Served as High-Profile Advertising Tools for Tobacconists. By Nancy Wolfson. Which points us toward Mark Goldman’s collection.

And this page which focuses on one of the most famous and well documented of all surviving 19th century American cigar-store Indians.

Most of the images in this post were scanned from The Book of Pipes and Tobacco by Carl Ehwa Jr. Published in 1974 by random house.

Hope you enjoyed.

As I’ve mentioned here previously, one day I logged onto the site and found that I was, for no particular reason, vividly aware of its shortcomings. In my estimation, as pleasant as the old Nonist was in some ways, it was also victimized by certain design affectations. The lowercase body-copy, as one example, which did not go un-derided.

What might have been less apparent were the limitations which the tight formatting actually placed on content. I was constantly tailoring posts to better fit the fascistic design. It was tiresome and I decided to start over, from scratch, with an eye toward both simplicity and a greater range of freedom in terms of actual content.

These goals might make it sound as though the design I finally arrived at came naturally. I assure you it did not. Which brings me to the reason everything took so long-

Excuses. Excuses.

Letterpress, linotype, woodtype, woodblock, 19th century broadsides complete with the attendant ornament, borders, brass rules, dashes, and embellishments. I’ve been inspired by these for a long while. I’ve got hundreds of examples cramming folders on my machine. I’ve got books piled on the floor. I can look at them endlessly. When It became apparent I’d be redesigning I figured it would be a great chance to delve into the aesthetic.

I created a broadside-inspired site⊕ but something wasn’t quite right. It was awkward somehow and I wasn’t happy with it. I began futzing, noodling and re-jiggering. It took me entirely too long to realize what the problem really was. And it was simple. My goals and my inspiration were at odds. What I’d come up with was, though true to my inspiration, more affected, more bloated, and more constraining than what came before. Needless to say I was annoyed.

I decided to make a long overdue purchase, Robert Bringhurst’s The Elements of Typographic Style, to try and help myself refocus. (If there was one thing I was sure that I wanted it was clear, legible, and stylistically correct text.) It’s a fascinating book which were I worth my salt as a designer I’d have read long ago. Almost immediately I came across a sentiment expressed by Bringhurst which was relevant to the problem at hand when he called the 19th century a “dark an inflationary age in typography and type design.⊕

Just an offhand opinion, I know, but annoyed and behind schedule as I was it seemed like a omen too obvious to ignore. I decided to do the hardest thing I can think of, as a designer, and cast aside as many of my own crutches and old mainstays as possible. I decided to abandon any aspirations of “coolness” and focus instead on attempting elegance. I’m not certain whether I ultimately succeeded in this but I’ll explain my reasoning and let you be the judge.

The gut and its reasons.

The “more is more” philosophy seems to be the overriding reality in web design. 85% of the sites out there are so crammed full of columns, thumbnails, text links, rollovers, nav-bars, banner ads, and animations that the act of bringing your eyes down a page has become a form of strenuous exercise.⊕

Many sites have little choice but to jam-pack every inch of screen real-estate. News portals and online merchants for example. They have a vast amount of data to dole out each day, the location of every bit of which needs to be immediately apparent. I don’t think the same can said for a huge swath of the internet and this approach by no means benefits all types of content.

It seems to me this over-use of the “more is more” aesthetic creates a sort of self-fullfilling prophesy in terms of internet reading habits and attention span. We are told time and again that people do not read things on the internet, they skim. We are told we, as content providers, have 3 seconds to clearly define our identity and purpose to a reader before they click away. Designers react accordingly and front load their entire site into a single browser window. So is it any wonder with all the clutter that people scan and scram? It’s like a defense reaction.

With this redesign I wanted to provide a counterpoint. As such the most important questions I had to ask myself were: How do people use the site? What would be the ideal user experience? And how do I present the content in a way which most encourages that ideal experience?

I’m not at all certain of the answer to that first question but I like to think people come here not only to see what’s on the other end of my links but to read what I’ve written and view what’s on display as well. That’s how I approach the content in any case. Further I have to assume that most visitors are interested in what is newly posted and generally ignore all the rest. It’s likely true for all blogs, new content is primary and archives, category trees, offshoots, ads, blogrolls, recent comments, shout boxes, etc, are secondary, at best.

In my mind the ideal experience would be entering a space where reading is easy on the eyes and the focus is undiluted, a space in which you could stretch out as it were, take off your coat, and stay a while. The ideal environment would then be one which emphasizes the content and puts aside the elements which readers would otherwise have to make an effort to ignore. Better that any effort is expended on what is secondary rather than on what is primary. The reading itself should be made effortless.

So what’s the best way to encourage this ideal experience which I’d like The Nonist to offer?

Ch-ch-ch-changes.

Obviously the main thrust of this redesign was simplicity but philosophically there was a shift as well which informed many of my choices. Against every piece of advice ever offered on web design I decided to stop tailoring the site toward the people who have never been here. Sounds silly but hear me out.

Many design choices are made with the people who don’t visit your site in mind. After all that’s exactly what all the “grab their attention in 3 seconds” stuff is really about. That’s also what design novelty and visual “gee-whiz” are about. Impressing potential first-time visitors. At some point it dawned on me that these are not the people I need to concern myself with. It’s my existing readership who deserve special attention. The non-functional bells and whistles of a site become invisible to return visitors after a while anyway, so why not do everyone a service and just remove it all?

People return to a site on the strength of its content and if a visitor can not take the time to discover what that content actually is without a multitude of visual cues and shiny things, then, well… In all likelihood they won’t have the patience to read my posts anyway. So if a visitor doesn’t see what they want to see in 3 seconds, and clicks away without bothering to read anything, then that’s o.k. with me. They’ve saved me some bandwidth. And hell, they’re not even reading this right now, which means there is no harm done in saying so.

So, beloved and patient readership, let’s consider the old site and run down the changes- 

Looking at the old Nonist now I must say it’s awfully busy. This is in part because of the side bar. As you scroll down the page to read a post you must make an effort ignore the entire left side of the screen. As I said earlier everything contained in that sidebar, from a user standpoint, is secondary. How many times do you guys need to see the special-projects thumbnails or the blogroll? A hundred? A thousand? You already know what’s there. So I removed it.

The tight formatting of the main content created discrete blocks. In terms of the site as a whole it achieved a certain balance but at the expense of readability. The lower-case formatting of the text⊕ kept these blocks heterogeneous but again at the expense of readability, to say nothing of grammatical precision. To remedy this I reformatted the text to give it, and your eyes, plenty of room to breathe. As a designer large type tends to illicit a sort of pavlovian cringe, but I also changed the fonts and enlarged the text somewhat in an effort at greater clarity.

Then there is the matter of the header. I really liked the old rotating headers. I think they said something about the attitude here and, well, they were pretty. But they were pretty huge as well. And again, how many times do return visitors need to see a logo that takes up half the screen? You know damned well where you are, wouldn’t a single line of simple text do just as well?

The nav-bar and all relevant content from the side-bar

Gentlemen, let’s Forget the past, its related errors, coarseness
Of parents, laxities, unrealities of principle Think of tomorrow. Make a firm postulate Of simplicity in desire and act… -Allen Tate.