Tag Archive for: design

1000 Design Classics by Phaidon

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Phaidon’s revised and updated 1000 Design Classics (2022) is as entertaining as it is educational, bringing together the visual depictions of 1000 designs and their brief histories. For those of you familiar with social media, you might imagine a well-curated, expertly-researched feed of objects, from everyday wares, such as cutlery or various types of chairs, to more obscure items, like the Mercedes-Benz Type 300 SL and other vehicles, and everything in between, complete with wonderful, full-color photographs published into a book. Although I don’t make a habit of likening books to social media, flipping through this title was not unlike scrolling through a well-organized Instagram feed, with each entry being its own tidy standalone post. But the comparison stops there because this book is tangible, and, like many nonfiction art and design books, bulky and heavy–a coffee table book that perhaps one day will become a classic in and of itself!

1000 Design Classics is organized chronologically, beginning in 1663 with the Zhang Xiaoquan Household Scissors and ending in 2019 with the Bata Stool. Each entry falls within one of 20 categories, including: accessories; cameras; clocks and watches; electronics; furniture; glassware; household items/homeware; kitchenware; lighting; luggage; music/audio; packaging; sport; stationery and office accessories; tableware; telephones; tools; toys and games; transport; and utilities. An entry’s category is signified by colorful tabs on the edges of the pages for quick reference, with the legend at the beginning of the book.

In keeping in spirit with the way the book is organized, I’ll discuss selective contents in chronological order, except for a few things that, to this day, their designers remain unknown. I chose the following objects either because I like the way they look, their histories are interesting, or simply because they are familiar to most people, thus hopefully familiar to you.

Jigsaw puzzles, which date back to 1766, have a somewhat surprising history, especially because they are so widely available today (even through the library’s “Library of Things” collection, which contains a wide variety of things that may be checked out). They were first introduced by a London-based mapmaker as a tool to teach geography to children. The term “puzzle” was coined in 1908. The 1900s also saw the introduction of jigsaw puzzles for adults. Expensive to make, they were at first accessible by only the “well-heeled” members of society, with mass-production not making them available to everyone until the Great Depression.

The Pocket Measuring Tape came about in 1842. It was patented by James Chesterman (1795-1867) when he was only 25 years old. He founded the Chesterman Steel Company, which fashioned “high-quality measuring instruments, especially tapes, calipers and squares, exporting its products to the US.” It’s interesting to think of the design of tools that, in turn, help us to further the field of design, whether it be the precision designing of our built environment or commonplace everyday objects. The 1800s saw numerous other useful designs, such as the safety pin (1849), drinking straws (1888), and the Swiss Army Knife (1891), as well as some that are more for entertainment, such as the Bolz Musical Spinning Top (1880) and the dartboard (1898).

The 1900s ushered in a plethora of designs. From Dixie Cups (1908), which ended the era of communal drinking vessels, and the Ford Model T (1908), to the Apple Macintosh (1984) and a wall-mounted CD player (1999), it is the most expansive century of those covered in the book. One of my favorites is the US Tunnel Mailbox, which was engineered by Roy J. Joroleman. Prior to this design, rural mailboxes were made of whatever empty thing people had that could be attached to a pole. When the design was approved (1915), it was not patented “in order to encourage competition between manufacturers.” Other favorites from the 1900s include the Ticonderoga Pencil (1913), the pint glass (1914), the Chemex coffee brewer (1941), the pendant lamp (1947), and numerous styles of furniture, especially that of midcentury.

Phaidon doesn’t let us forget that the 2000s brought some classic designs, too! The iPod (2001) and the iPhone (2007) made their debuts, as did the Spun Chair (2007), which, I can attest, is as fun as it is spun. Although we do not have one at the library, you’ll find them downtown at the Harry M. Cornell Arts & Entertainment Complex. No doubt more designs from the 2000s will be added to future editions of this book as well.

Scissors, jacks, and Moleskin notebooks, all designed in the 1800s, as well as the whisks and disco balls of the 1900s have unknown designers. Some designs were hilarious, such as the Snurfer, a sort of snowboard, that came out in 1965, and others, such as egg cartons (1966) are particularly useful.

A library-related design that I’m fond of is the Kickstool. Designed by the Wedo Design Team in 1975, it’s a stool that can be kicked along by foot yet provides a stable platform when weight, such as a standing person, is placed on top of the stool. As stated in the book, the Kickstool is “an emblem of the librarian’s and archivist’s trades.” In fact, I keep one in my office!

I recommend this book to anyone interested in design and/or the histories of the objects therein. If you’re looking for a book to keep atop your coffee table for a few weeks, then I’d recommend it for that, too. Whether your eye is caught by the wares of centuries ago or by a more present-day design, I encourage you to check out Phaidon’s 1000 Design Classics.

As always, happy reading.

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Just My Type by Simon Garfield

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Pity Comic Sans, the font that people love to hate. Developed by Vincent Connare in the mid-1990s, Comic Sans is what author Simon Garfield describes as “type that has gone wrong” in his book Just My Type, an engaging history of type (which, these days, the average person refers to as a ‘font,’ but more on that later).

Connare designed Comic Sans as a reaction against the perceived formality of Times New Roman. Specifically, as a new typeface for Microsoft Bob, a user-friendly software program designed for people who didn’t use – or were frightened of – computers. Connare believed that Times New Roman didn’t mesh well with other elements of the software, such as its “accessible language and […] appealing illustrations.” Ultimately, Connare’s new type couldn’t be worked into the package. Guess what? Microsoft Bob failed. Not long afterward, Connare’s Comic Sans was released in another software package that indeed became popular.

Then, after being included in Windows 95, Comic Sans was everywhere. So much so that people got sick of it. Like, really sick of it. Garfield tells us of Holly and David Combs, a couple who made an anti-Comic Sans website and sold “Ban Comic Sans” merchandise. It’s not necessarily that the Combs thought Comic Sans had no place in the world, but that it needed to be put back in its place. This seemingly ubiquitous hatred of Comic Sans is not unlike how people love to hate Merlot–they know little about its complexities, nuances, and when it is, in fact, a smart, or dare I say the right, choice.

Not only does Garfield give us the history of type/fonts, but, in some cases, the histories of their creators. One such case is the grisly history (that I definitely won’t mention here) of Eric Gill, whose typeface Gill Sans appeared in 1928 as “one of the twentieth century’s earliest and classic sans serif fonts” and is still widely used today.

Speaking of Sans Serif fonts, what’s the difference between that and Serif? I’ll tell you, but Garfield will tell you better with one of the fantastic visuals that accompany the text throughout his book. Serif fonts have feet and tips, which are the serifs. Remove those and voila! You have Sans Serif.

So what about this whole typeface and type/font thing? While typeface is a certain style of lettering, fonts refer to variations of a typeface, including size, weight, and so on. Garfield writes: “Fonts were once known as founts. Fonts and founts weren’t the same as typefaces, and typefaces weren’t the same as type.” He highlights this and many other more technical aspects of typography that, admittedly, readers without a keen interest in type may not find interesting. For example, typographers once had typescales (depth scales) for measuring not only the type, but the space between it, both of which are referred to as the point size, or, for typographers (and printers, as in printing presses) these measurements are grouped into picas.

“DIY” is one of my favorite chapters because it introduced me to the John Bull Printing Outfit, a DIY typographic kit released in the 1930s. It was both creative and educational and, to me, looks and sounds like loads of fun (Hello, eBay!). Garfield goes on to discuss other methods of personal printing, from Letrasets to typewriters to floppy disks, ending the chapter saying that “well-printed” materials are “fast becoming heritage,” yet “typefaces – both their preponderance and ingenuity – have not suffered a similar decline in fortunes.” He writes further that perhaps we have too many.

I particularly appreciate how easy-reading this book is. Although I didn’t learn this till 250 pages in, the book is set in Sabon, which is known for its readability. Perhaps my sharing this with you is somewhat of a spoiler, but I have good reason for doing so. That I thought the book was easy-reading before knowing a particular font was chosen to achieve just that illustrates how much of a connection we have between text – not just what it says, but how it looks – and the way we process information and, more generally, the world.

Literally every printed word was someone’s decision to use a particular typeface or font. The newspaper (or screen, if that’s your style) that you’re holding in your hand to read this review is but one example. Whether we realize it or not – or like it or not – the way that things look impact the way that we interact with them and fonts are no exception. Have you ever been put off by some fonts and not others? Made choices as a consumer based on fonts and labels? Sure you have, as have I.

Garfield reminds us that, like anything else, fonts have rules. Though he’s not necessarily opposed, he wonders “to what extent do rules stifle individuality and creativity?” (Good question.) I’ll leave you with a few so-called rules mentioned by Garfield, though he attributes them to Paul Felton: “Thou shalt not apply more than three typefaces in a document;” “Remember that a typeface that is not legible is not truly a typeface;” and “Thou shalt not use only capitals when setting vast body copy.”

As always, happy reading.

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The 99% Invisible City: A Field Guide to The Hidden World of Everyday Design By Roman Mars and Kurt Kohlstedt

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I sort of stole this book review from my husband, meaning that I robbed him of the opportunity to review it himself as soon as I set eyes on it after his discovering and sharing it with me. The 99% Invisible City: A Field Guide to the Hidden World of Everyday Design by Roman Mars and Kurt Kohlstedt is as beautiful as it is brilliant. But first, who are these guys and why everyday design?

Roman Mars is the creator and host of the fascinating and entertaining 99% Invisible podcast (est. 2010). Initially, 99% Invisible was a one-man show, but has since grown into a talented staff, including Kurt Kohlstedt, who is the digital director and a producer, as well as co-author of this book. On 99pi.org, they describe the podcast as being “about all the thought that goes into the things we don’t think about — the unnoticed architecture and design that shape our world.” In other words, it’s about everyday design. The premise for the book reflects that of the podcast. Now, let’s tune in to the book proper.

The 99% Invisible City is tangibly splendid, making it clear that careful consideration went not only into the design of the book, but the touch and feel of its materials. The texture and weight of its matte pages are pleasant to the touch and the embossed cover and half-sized jacket are nice features. Of special note is the cover image. Spanning both covers, several figures within the image are labeled numerically, corresponding to the legend printed inside the book jacket. I repeat: the legend printed inside the book jacket—almost too cool!

Content is organized into six chapters, each of which is further arranged into three to six sections containing short entries. I appreciate a well-organized book, especially when, like in this one, an array of topics is covered. It’s as well-researched as it is organized, with an expansive bibliography that, if you’re interested, doubles as a “further reading” list.

Although I wouldn’t necessarily call this a coffee table book, as it’s not glossy and oversized (or overpriced), I’d say it’s like a coffee table book in that it’s interesting to look at, makes for a great conversation piece, and is suitable for casual reading while still appealing to avid readers.

The 99% Invisible City is exactly as it claims, a field guide to the hidden world of everyday design. Like most field guides, it can be read in its entirety or in bits and pieces. I skipped ahead to chapter four – Architecture, my favorite – after reading chapter one only in part and wandering about here and there in other parts of the book. Regardless of how its read, it recalls visuals of everyday things I’ve seen and wondered “What/why is that?!”

Have you ever heard of stink pipes (think obelisks)? According to Mars and Kohlstedt, obelisks and “other seemingly innocuous sculptures in cities around the world” are, by design, meant to ventilate their sewer systems. So, if you find yourself near such a structure, then you might give the air a sniff to see whether the sculpture is functional or purely aesthetic.

The standardization of utility codes, such as those one sometimes sees spray painted on the ground, came into being after a massive explosion killed/injured at least two dozen people in Los Angeles, California, in 1976. Today, the American National Standards Institute maintains the codes: red means electrical, orange signals telecommunications, yellow identifies combustive materials, pink is for “temporary markings, unidentified facilities, or known unknowns,” and so on. Though not hidden but generally unnoticed, these markings are, by design, meant to make our communities safer.

The authors also explore how regulations may influence everyday design. Perhaps this is best seen in architectural landscapes. For example, the British government once implemented an individual brick tax, thereby causing manufacturers to create larger bricks or builders to use other building materials. A similar window tax, again in Britain, caused people to board up or otherwise cover up their windows. The effects of these taxes can still be seen (or, as in the case of the windows, hidden) today.

Planned failures (e.g. breakaway posts), municipal flags, inflatable figures, towers, foundations, graveyards, water, technology, illumination, property markers, manhole covers, and so much more are covered within the covers of this book. The 99% Invisible City is everyday design presented and written about in an extraordinary manner. What’s more, it’s all remarkably illustrated by Patrick Vale. Though “for all you plaque readers and curious urbanists” is inscribed on the title page, this book has something for everyone. Check it out!

As always, happy reading.

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Patternalia: An Unconventional History of Polka Dots, Stripes, Plaid, Camouflage, and Other Graphic Patterns by Jude Stewart

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What are you wearing? Plaid (tartan)? Paisley? How about stripes or polka dots? Perhaps a fleur-de-lis pin graces your lapel? Regardless, these motifs and patterns and more have fascinating associations and histories as told by Jude Stewart in his book Patternalia: An Unconventional History of Polka Dots, Stripes, Plaid, Camouflage, and Other Graphic Patterns.

In addition to content, the book itself is somewhat unconventional by design, both physically and stylistically. Titles found in the adult nonfiction collection tend to be large and heavy, whereas Patternalia is small and lightweight. Stylistically, Patternalia defies the typical beginning, middle, end formula for telling such stories. The text is dotted with cross-references so readers may develop an alternate storyline. It’s also embellished with quotes and bold graphics throughout.

Stewart starts us on our journey with a crash course in patterns and pattern lingo as well as an explanation of how our brains perceive “symmetry, orderliness, and simplicity”–basically, a pattern–and how we define and process this into what we see. He discusses ‘pareidolia,’ “the process of seeing imaginary forms, especially faces, in random stimuli,” such as outlets, and ‘apophenia,’ which is the perception of pattern where there is none, which may be either visual or conceptual. A conceptual example of apophenia is that of “gambler’s fallacy.”

Before we delve into particular patterns proper, we learn a bit about the history of patterns and the textile industry. The gist is that as production became increasingly industrialized, patterned textiles became cheaper, easily portable, and shareable across cultures. As patterns and patterned textiles crossed national borders, their meanings could change or evolve, such as with popular “African print” textiles. (Why? Read the book!)

As pattern and textile technology continued to advance, patterns were able to be printed directly onto textiles, which led to disposable fashions. Think Paper Caper dresses and such. Imagine wearing your clothes a few times and throwing them into the trash can rather than the laundry basket. These sorts of disposable fashions didn’t fall out of fashion until the rise of environmental consciousness. (Thank goodness for environmental consciousness!)

But what about the patterns? I dare say we take them for granted, no doubt due to their ubiquitousness–they’re everywhere! Patterns hold histories and connotations, whether we realize it or not. Take polka dots, for example. According to Stewart, dots and spots–polka dots–gained popularity “from an extended craze for polka music” that overtook Europe in the mid-1800s. But in Medieval Europe, polka dots were reminiscent of disease and death. Specifically, syphilis, bubonic plague, measles, and more. Yet we enjoy polka dot patterns on an array of items, from notebooks to scrapbooking paper, t-shirts to bathing suits, bedding to curtains, and so on, without considering their history. Not to mention the parallel Stewart draws between dot art and activism–bravo!

Overall, Stewart’s Patternalia is as charming as it is interesting. My only criticism is that it ends rather abruptly, not unlike this review. As for the other patterns–plaid, paisley, stripes, fleur-de-lis, checkered, houndstooth, etc.–you’ll have to check it out for yourself. I leave you with this anonymous quote: “Even a small dot can stop a big sentence, but a few more dots can give a continuity…”

As always, happy reading.

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