Designing Around a Hot Potato : The Barnes Foundation Identity

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I grew up in Philadelphia with an art-loving father, who frequently brought me ("dragged" would have been my verb of choice at the time) to the Barnes Foundation. In the late 80s, early 90s, the Barnes collection hadn't yet reached the height of its popularity which is probably why my dad liked to take out-of-towners (and even locals)—to blow their mind with the incredible selection of Impressionist paintings sitting in semi-obsercuity on the Main Line. 

The museum allowed children between the ages of 10 and 12 in for free—anyone younger was not allowed—which meant that for many of our visits my childish disinterest to gallery outings was combined with an anxiety over rule-breaking as my dad either said I was older than I was so I could get in, or younger than I was so I could get in for free. (Not to totally sully his good name, keeping me in the admission policy sweet spot was all in the name of world-class art exposure and, entrance discomfort aside, I have strong memories of sitting alone in a gallery looking at the tigers in a Rousseau painting and trying to imagine what it would be like to walk around a house with Van Goghs and Cézannes crammed into corners like any old pieces of bric-a-brac.)

Fast forward 20-odd years and the Barnes collection will soon be accessible to the public in a new location in central Philadelphia. The adjective most associated with this move is "controversial" and after watching the documentary The Art of the Steal, I can't help but feel that regardless of the assertions of everyone involved to stay true to Barnes' presentation style and objectives, his most fundamental intention—for the collection to be housed permanently at the location in Merion—has been steamrolled in the name of bringing art to the public and tourist revenue to the city. (Make note, no mater how iron-clad your Last Will and Testament, once you die, there are no guarantees.)

The powers-that-be behind the move have brought in the big guns at Pentagram (specifically Abbott Miller) to design the logo, website and display graphics for the gallery. Well aware of the conflict surrounding the relocation, a recent post on Pentagram's blog provides an in-depth explanation of Miller's process, emphasizing that his inspiration came from researching Barnes' tendency to display art along an x-axis and that, in turn, the identity attempts to "insure that the museum maintains Barnes' indelible stamp." The result: a horizontally-oriented logo consisting of type and a series of Matisse-orange rectangles. 

It's an encouraging start and the website is clean, with a layout that echoes the structure of the logo and incorporates plenty of imagery. 

While the politics surrounding the relocation of the museum remain hard for me to swallow, having it enveloped in an attractive identity will make it a little easier to accept. And that's probably the point. 

(Images courtesy of Pentagram)

 

Intermezzo on the Steam Press : The Music of Diego Stocco

Most likely, Diego Stocco will either inspire you or make you feel like a totally boring and uncreative slug. As a composer/musician, his instruments of choice have included a tree, sand, a piano on fire and the contents of his local drycleaners, as captured in this video, further proving his point that "you can really make music with everything."

A Mouthful on the Preserve Toothbrush

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Last Christmas, I discovered a Preserve toothbrush in my stocking. I can get close-minded when it comes to changing my routine but this arrived at a perfect moment; I had already concluded that all non-electric toothbrushes work basically the same and I was trying to transition my grooming products to those with less hostile chemical formulas. Having a BPA-free toothbrush that was made out of recycled yogurt cups fit right in.

At the time, the toothbrush packaging was meant to double as a travel case and the brush could be sent back to the manufacturer for further recycling once its cleaning days were over. Produced since 1997, I'm guessing not very many brushes were returned because Preserve recently overhauled the packaging to further encourage user participation in the next stage of the brush's lifecycle. The brushes are now available in a slim envelope, complete with prepaid postage, so as long as you save it, you can then slip the brush back in and mail it out for free. 

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(Production still courtesy of Objectifiedfilm.com)

In the excellent documentary Objectified, there's a segment that features a group of designers at IDEO tasked with redesigning the toothbrush. It's not clear if there's a specific client behind the project or what, but I'll be honest, this portion of the film made me cringe. 

Having received most of my design education in the Bay Area, I learned to revere IDEO as the kind of firm a thinking designer would kill to work for. That said, there's something about actually witnessing a group of smart people, surrounded by Post-it notes, throwing out random (and sometimes idiotic) contributions to a brainstorming session on What Is The Toothbrush? that could give easy ammunition to those less inclined toward appreciating the societal contributions of designers. After much discussion and prototyping, the result was revealed: a toothbrush with a wooden handle. End scene. 

Why, if, or by whom the brush would be manufactured (or its price point) were not addressed. Without that information, and unlike a lot of the other case studies in the documentary, it appeared as a case of design for design's sake—a case, I believe, in which it would have been best to not have peeked behind the velvet curtain at all. 

What does all that have to do with Preserve? Unlike its wooden-handled brethren, to me this toothbrush is the product of smart design executed with an eye on the broader context and user-ability of the final object. It cleans teeth. It's recycled and recyclable, and the packaging makes it easy to follow-through on this. And, perhaps most importantly, it's available at Trader Joe's for $3.

To top it all off, Continuum, the design and consultancy firm behind the updated Preserve packaging, won the 2011 Cooper Hewitt National Design Award for Product Design

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to put my used Preserve in the mail.

 

Murray Fredricks : Photography

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Last month's National Geographic Photo Journal section featured a selection of photographs taken by Murray Fredricks over the course of several annual trips to Lake Eyre, a "flat, arid salt sink in Australia with only the horizon to define its 3,700 square miles." Fredericks' aimed to "remove the landscape from landscape photography" and his photos, which at times resemble Mark Rothko paintings, certainly achieve this goal. It's incredible to see the breadth of color that occurs naturally, on the barest of canvases, thanks to this photographer's patient observation. 

Check out more of Fredricks' work here: http://murrayfredericks.com.au

(Photos courtesy of National Geographic Magazine)

 

Wish List Item: Digital Time-Lapse Camera

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While browsing the Interwebs, I came across the Digital Time-Lapse Camera from Photojojo. Its sole purpose is to take digital time-lapse video, with settings for 1 minute, 5 minutes, 30 minutes, 1 hour, 4 hours or 24 hours, and is supposedly hardy enough to withstand elements so it can make some awesome time-lapse blizzard videos. It runs on AA batteries and stores everything (including the individual jpgs) to a 2GB flash drive, which can be swapped out with an 8GB drive if you so desire. The camera is $149 and going on my wish list since I'm pretty sure my husband reads this blog.

Postcardly : Follow Up Review

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Update! Postcardly has changed its template system so square photos will not be cropped. Instagram lovers like myself can now Postcardly away knowing our precious compositions will be replicated in full, as in the example above. See the comments section for a message from Paul at the company.

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Last month I wrote about Postcardly, a service that converts an email with an attached photo into a postcard and sends it to a designated recipient via the USPS. 

In the interim, I've had a chance to try out Postcardly for myself, and I've sent a bunch of postcards to family, friends and myself. The overwhelming response has been positive. Family (especially non-computer users like my grandmother) loved getting mail, it was an efficient and fun way to share one-off photos, and a designer friend deemed the layout of the back "not too bad" and was impressed that his postcard arrived with a real stamp. 

The account set-up was straightforward and simple. Once I added as many contacts as I wanted, Postcardly assigned them an unique email address to which I then sent messages and photos to be generated into postcards. (If you want to see what your postcard will look like before sending it out, you can email it to a set preview address to receive a PDF proof in a matter of seconds.) 

I was only disappointed with the way the program handled a square image. Instead of fitting it within the standard 4" x 6" postcard template with a border of white space, the photo was scaled to fill the space, resulting in a cropped image. Considering the popularity of apps like Instagram and Hipstamatic that generate Polaroidesque photos, being able to preserve a square image would be a plus. I know the company is working on an update to the postcard template soon, so perhaps this is already being addressed. 

Admittedly my trial experience with Postcardly was gratis, thanks to the generosity of the company, but I will happily continue to use it and pay the 99¢ (or less, depending on your monthly plan) for the ability to send spontaneous visual correspondence with my grandmother. 

(Images: sample Postcardly, front & back; Postcardly treatment of square image)

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Ryantown: Paper Art and Beyond

Today's Remodelista Daily features the work of British artist Rob Ryan who specializes in paper art done in a fanciful, loose style. He has a store front in London and a virtual Etsy shop where you can purchase original laser cuts and screen prints as well as his designs transferred onto objects including pillowcases, wallpaper, tape and tiles. I am always a sucker for the intricacy of paper art, and love that Ryan has figured out creative ways to merchandise the style.

(All images courtesy of the misterrob Etsy shop.)

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Judging Food by its Label: Renee Walker's Nutritional Info Revamp

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In the California College of the Arts September e-letter, I read about MFA in Design grad Renee Walker who won first place in ReThink the Food Label, a competition co-sponsored by Good and Berkeley's News21 fellowship. As part of her graduate work, Walker had already been exploring the twinned issues of obesity and the presentation of nutritional information and her proposed label design developed out of this research and a collaboration with a nutritionist. 

Unlike the existing black and white FDA labels, which require line-by-line parsing of the information, Walker's labels combine itemized information with a color-based system that represents the food's contents at-a-glance. The label for an apple includes a single red box, where as a package of macaroni and cheese breaks down into several boxes of varying ingredients. 

In a post on her blog from the end of July, written after contest winners were revealed, Walker considers and responds to the reactions her label generated which adds a certain richness to this story. Often you'll read about a designer's process and final product, but not as frequently do you find a post-facto analysis in which the designer revisits and defends a creation once it's "out there." 

ADDITIONAL LINKS: Browse the runners-up; read a NYT story on the labels (which generated some comments Walker takes issue to on her blog).

Image courtesy of  News21