I was asked by a client to re-design a print ad laid out by someone else.

The original layout (above, left) was cluttered and confused. The ad, for an author’s book signing events in upscale communities in Los Angeles County, was going to appear in a local cultural magazine. What was needed was a visual solution that supported the specific message (from Nazi Holocaust victim to survivor to thriving psychologist and author), was informative, and that appealed to the intended audience.

The original raised a lot of concerns: it lacked structure, hierarchy, a relevant color scheme, a headline, appropriate type and typographic design, proportion contrasts and visual “heroes”. Additionally, it included a poorly contrived re-creation of the Barnes & Noble brand identity, which is really not appropriate. The actual identity should have been used.

I designed my make-over from the ground up. I began with a formal structure to unify the various elements and imposed a symmetrical balance. Through hieratic scaling and isolation I made the author and her book the heroes of the design. They are now the focal point of and the visual entrance into the design.

I created a real headline from a block of text in the original and reduced the number of fonts to two, scaling the various text to appropriate sizes. I incorporated a color scheme that was neutral, warm and stabilizing, and which didn’t compete with the text. I revised the entire layout to establish a natural flow of information and create an orderly presentation. The result is a simpler layout that is easy to understand. The ad is now unified, appealing and relevant to the author, the book and the intended audience. The perceived value is increased.

Dr. Erica Miller web site.

It’s an odd place to find beauty. Gutters are usually the conduits of unwanted odds and ends. They can become pretty nasty. But once in awhile a treasure is found there. In this case the treasure consists of colors and textures expressed through leaves, asphalt, concrete and mildew.

On the evening before during the meeting of a creative team I’m leading, one team member made the statement that orange is a hideous color and no one likes it, so therefore it would not be appropriate used in the particular identity program we were discussing. Having observed varieties of orange in common used, I disagreed, and we had a lighthearted argument.

On the day after, I was recounting the discussion to my students when I happened to look around the classroom and noticed the amount of orange in the room. Almost all of the various branded shopping bags and totes the students used to transport their projects had orange in their design. So I pulled out my iPhone and happily photographed the bags as proof that orange is indeed liked by many and is widely used in design solutions.

Color trends come and go. Orange, which is an energizing and somewhat forceful color, has been enjoying a widespread popularity not seen since the 1970s. It’s used brighter and bolder than the burnt oranges back then, and is often paired with neutral grays or earth tones. As one student commented, “Orange is the new pink”.

House Republicans' chart depicting Democrats' plan for government-run health care.

Setting aside that fact that many think the Dems’ proposed national healthcare plan is a total nightmare, the GOP chart is no sweet dream from a design standpoint.

Where do we begin? If information hierarchy is necessary to provide a “front door” into the design, the first thing we note is that there is no front door – no “first read”. As we look at this thing, where do we start? We could begin anywhere, and spend hours hopping from point to point in the design trying to decide where to go next. There’s no single element that stands up and cries out, “Here! Come this way. Follow me.” In fact, we are forced to hunt even for the chart’s title.

Every element in the layout and the amount of space in between are approximately the same size. This amount of similarity creates monotony across the visual surface. The chart is relegated to mere pattern rather than operating as a purveyor of information. It has no focal point.

The colors used are base level, highly saturated and create legibility problems for the textual content inside each box, oval or circle.

There is no exit point. Once we’ve made some sort of entry into the layout we’re stuck. We can’t get out. We’re either going to keep going around and around or become incredibly tired or crazy from our frantic maneuverings through all that clutter. When we finally extricate ourselves out of sheer exhaustion and make a swift getaway we have gained no greater understanding of what’s being communicated than when we first entered the design space.

The single redeeming element is the gray background, which sits quietly behind all the noisy chatter of the brighter elements.

The Democrats responded to the Republicans with a simpler, “questionable” chart which is less cluttered (meaning, it has a bit more white space) and takes a stab at establishing hierarchy, but communicates little:

Democrats' health chart opus

Compare these charts to another, created by the folks at The New Republic which more elegantly describes the current state of health care in the United States. It, by the way, has a front door (note the red burst at top left with the small word, you.) That’s where you enter and you know exactly where to go next. You’re given clear and distinct visual choices. This is good design: it is both aesthetically pleasing and communicates well:

The New Republic's opus applies aesthetic principles to make sense of the current US healthcare system.

From a design standpoint, if good design is our plumb line, the Republicans’ chart appears to fail. Except that it doesn’t. It actually accomplishes its purpose quite successfully in its ugly confusion. The chart is meant to be confusing, monotonous, difficult, illegible and unfriendly. Its purpose is to communicate the confusion, monotony, difficulty and inhospitality of the proposed healthcare plan its describing, and it achieves its purpose very well. It is a worthy example of what not to do if you want to create good design, and also of how some ideas are best communicated by breaking the rules of good design.

By straddling two “worlds” in my design practice, I often think about one of them while engaging in the other. For instance, while working on a design project, I’ll be musing over the illustration in progress over there on my drafting table. And when I’m in my illustration mode, I’ll be considering the next step in my design process for a web site or a book design.

In my musings and considerations I’ve noticed that the creative process is somewhat different for each pursuit. Although the same considerations are involved in each, the point at which they come in the development process is different.

I begin a design project with pencil and paper (even if it’s a web site). I work out a bunch of ideas, dealing with color, proportion, shape relationships, balance, etc. even in this sketch stage. I refine my ideas and then move to the computer to produce them. Most of the problem-solving is done before I begin developing the final artwork. By the time it’s in digital form most of the kinks have been worked out, most of the aesthetic and functional decisions have been made, and I have a clear path to follow in creating the finished work.

Not so with illustration. Given a concept or story to tell, I make some rough sketches and refined comps, select the best to tell the story and then scaled up transferred to my board  (usually Strathmore 4-ply or Arches 300# watercolor paper). Once the drawing is committed to the paper, I’m ready to apply the paint. That’s when the decision making process really begins. I seem to make more judgements at this stage – in which I am developing the finished artwork. Color scheme and temperature, value relationships, textural contrasts, maintaining the integrity of the drawing, balance, etc. are all ongoing considerations until I can call the work finished.

In a design project, I generally determine color in the beginning stages. Making a painting may require a firm color decision early on, but not always. These decisions are made and can change as I progress further into the work.

It’s an interesting contrast for me – where the weight of decision falls in each of these creative processes. In one it’s toward the beginning, and in the other it’s toward the end.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1rZqw5bXb4]
I first saw this clip by EepyBird in a post over on The Digital Sanctuary followed it to its source. I enjoyed it enough to want to share it here. 

And I wanted to add the thought that everything we consider ordinary, such as a pad of sticky notes, had a unique origin. Whether created on purpose or by accident, it was brand new once, and therefore uncommon.

Over time such things become part of culture and are considered mundane. That is, until someone takes hold of them, looks at them differently, makes new associations or puts them in a different context. That’s when the ordinary object becomes extraordinary once again.

There’s more to see from from EepyBird. Have fun!