art direction

art_direction

i mentioned previously that i take photo after photo of found gloves. as
my daughter grew, she became my spotter. “dad,” she’d say, “there’s a good one.” how did she learn which one was a good one was? i must have articulated the finer points of a run-over glove. having a child has it rewards and one of my favorite memories is of hearing my daughter answer this question: “what does your dad do?” “he’s an art director.” “what does an art director do? “well, he knows when a picture is good or not.” how about that. do i really? i guess that’s as good as any explanation i’ve heard. when i first came to new york and had the opportunity to work as an art director for bergdorf goodman, i attended a new york dinner with models, art directors, photographers—a serious fashion crowd. i was excited. they were all consumed by their work and life, as i was. since i had lived in the city only for a short while, i was as green as green could be. this scene and its myriad levels of sophistication intrigued and intimidated me. i was seated next to a fashionable blonde and, when she asked what i did for a living, i replied that i was a graphic designer. at the time, i was designing an identity for bergdorf’s new men’s store. i asked what she did. “an art director.” “what’s the difference?” i asked naïvely. she looked at me coldly and blankly and said, quite seriously, “the difference is a graphic designer takes a photograph, places it on a page and puts white space all around it. an art director takes that same photo and bleeds it on all four sides.” i laughed; she didn’t. when i saw this cartoon in the new yorker years ago, i cut it out and added it to all the others i have saved over the years. the memory of all this came back to me upon seeing the cartoon. it’s certainly another explanation to consider.
i mentioned previously that i take photo after photo of found gloves. as my daughter grew, she became my spotter. “dad,” she’d say, “there’s a good one.” how did she learn which one was a good one was? i must have articulated the finer points of a run-over glove. having a child has it rewards and one of my favorite memories is of hearing my daughter answer this question: “what does your dad do?” “he’s an art director.” “what does an art director do? “well, he knows when a picture is good or not.” how about that. do i really? i guess that’s as good as any explanation i’ve heard. when i first came to new york and had the opportunity to work as an art director for bergdorf goodman, i attended a new york dinner with models, art directors, photographers—a serious fashion crowd. i was excited. they were all consumed by their work and life, as i was. since i had lived in the city only for a short while, i was as green as green could be. this scene and its myriad levels of sophistication intrigued and intimidated me. i was seated next to a fashionable blonde and, when she asked what i did for a living, i replied that i was a graphic designer. at the time, i was designing an identity for bergdorf’s new men’s store. i asked what she did. “an art director.” “what’s the difference?” i asked naïvely. she looked at me coldly and blankly and said, quite seriously, “the difference is a graphic designer takes a photograph, places it on a page and puts white space all around it. an art director takes that same photo and bleeds it on all four sides.” i laughed; she didn’t. when i saw this cartoon in the new yorker years ago, i cut it out and added it to all the others i have saved over the years. the memory of all this came back to me upon seeing the cartoon. it’s certainly another explanation to consider.

paul rand inc.

rand_card

i receive lots of emails asking about paul rand. it seems many people want to know what it was like to have him as a teacher, or how many rand-designed items i have. like so many of his students, i have my own personal stories to tell. after leaving yale, I kept in touch with him and tried to visit often. the videos you see on youtube—or the interview with steve jobs about working with him—give a pretty accurate picture of what he was like. my association with him has engendered many stories. here is one. i once had the pleasure of interviewing with peter arnell. this was in 1993 when he was still working with donna karan and i was an art director at bergdorf’s. (you may not know, but when apple did the “think different” campaign and chose paul rand as one of the featured artists, it was peter arnell’s photo they used. i have always disliked that he made money from that.) anyway, i walked into arnell’s office and sat down. he did not open my portfolio. he held up my resume and read it aloud. “so, you went to yale?” he asked. “i did,” i replied. “it doesn’t bother you that i went to princeton and my partner went to columbia?” “no,” i said, “not everyone gets into yale.” (i already figured I wasn’t getting the job.) “so you studied with paul rand?” ”i did.” “would he remember you?” “um, i guess. i would like to hope so.” at this point he yelled out to his assistant, “can you get paul rand on the phone?” ok. there is a first time for everything. the only thing going through my mind was what mr. rand could possibly say. and what if he didn’t remember me? although i was pretty sure he would. arnell put the phone on speaker and we listened together as it rang over and over. arnell was watching me the whole time. i remember this as if it were yesterday. finally the answering machine came on. arnell hung up without leaving a message. i wasn’t especially relieved, mostly just perplexed. what would he have asked him? we then proceeded to discuss rand and his work. what i liked about it, etc. the rest of the interview was pretty uneventful. for my follow-up to the interview, i sent arnell one of my prize rand books, “leaved canceled,” a book he designed in 1945 for knopf. i included a note of thanks and mentioned our shared enthusiasm for mr. rand. my southern roots expected some sort of response. it never came. mr rand touched many people, even someone like peter arnell. mr. rand’s business card sits framed on my shelf, like so many other things he designed. enjoy.

fyi: for privacy reasons the phone number was left incomplete.

i receive lots of emails asking about paul rand. it seems many people want to know what it was like to have him as a teacher, or how many rand-designed items i have. like so many of his students, i have my own personal stories to tell. after leaving yale, I kept in touch with him and tried to visit often. the videos you see on youtube—or the interview with steve jobs about working with him—give a pretty accurate picture of what he was like. my association with him has engendered many stories. here is one. i once had the pleasure of interviewing with peter arnell. this was in 1993 when he was still working with donna karan and i was an art director at bergdorf’s. (you may not know, but when apple did the “think different” campaign and chose paul rand as one of the featured artists, it was peter arnell’s photo they used. i have always disliked that he made money
from that.) anyway, i walked into arnell’s office and sat down. he did not
open my portfolio. he held up my resume and read it aloud. “so, you went to yale?” he asked. “i did,” i replied. “it doesn’t bother you that i went to princeton and my partner went to columbia?” “no,” i said, “not everyone gets into yale.”
(i already figured I wasn’t getting the job.) “so you studied with paul rand?”
“i did.” “would he remember you?” “um, i guess. i would like to hope so.” at this point he yelled out to his assistant, “can you get paul rand on the phone?”
ok. there is a first time for everything. the only thing going through my mind was what mr. rand could possibly say. and what if he didn’t remember me? although i was pretty sure he would. arnell put the phone on speaker and we listened together as it rang over and over. arnell was watching me the whole time. i remember this as if it were yesterday. finally the answering machine came on. arnell hung up without leaving a message. i wasn’t especially relieved, mostly just perplexed. what would he have asked him? we then proceeded to discuss rand and his work. what i liked about it, etc. the rest of the interview was pretty uneventful. for my follow-up to the interview, i sent arnell one of my prize rand books, “leaved canceled,” a book he designed in 1950 for knopf. i included a note of thanks and mentioned our shared enthusiasm for mr. rand. my southern roots expected some sort of response. it never came. mr rand touched many people, even someone like peter arnell. mr. rand’s business card sits framed on my shelf, like so many other things he designed. enjoy.

black and orange

black and orange
great typography speaks for itself. i expressed that i did not collect tobacciana. well, it seems i was wrong. as i dig through my collections, i discover piece after piece of cigar- or cigarette-related items. here is just one example of a wonderful package of tobacco: mac greennock’s. I love the phrase “point to point cut.” black and orange. beauty at its most simple. attending flea markets and paper fairs has always been something i have found interesting, although i never fully understood this passion until i was in one place for an extended length of time. new york city has afforded me such a time period. this past september marked my twentieth year in the big, hard apple. before moving to new york, i dated my wife during the summer of ‘89. i had finished yale and was interviewing in new york. before i moved to the city, i invited her to stay with me in new haven and we visited connecticut countryside. our first sleepaway weekend was to pittsville, mass. to visit the handcock shaker village. i had never been and i saw it as an
opportunity to drive up route seven, check out the myriad antique shops and eat local food. it was poking around in one of these shops that i discovered this package. fifty cents was the right price. a wonderful inspiration that made it to my shelf but was completely lost on my “date.” I learned a lot on that trip up route seven, and i’m still learning from this package.

cigerrette_package

great typography speaks for itself. i expressed that i did not collect tobacciana. well, it seems i was wrong. as i dig through my collections, i discover piece after piece of cigar- or cigarette-related items. here is just one example of a wonderful package of tobacco: mac greennock’s. I love the phrase “point to point cut.” black and orange. beauty at its most simple. attending flea markets and paper fairs has always been something i have found interesting, although i never fully understood this passion until i was in one place for an extended length of time. new york city has afforded me such a time period. this past september marked my twentieth year in the big, hard apple. before moving to new york, i dated my wife during the summer of ‘89. i had finished yale and was interviewing in new york. before i moved to the city, i invited her to stay with me in new haven and we visited the connecticut countryside. our first sleepaway weekend was to pittsville, mass. to visit the handcock shaker village. i had never been and i saw it as an opportunity to drive up route seven, check out the myriad antique shops and eat local food. it was poking around in one of these shops that i discovered this package. fifty cents was the right price. a wonderful inspiration that made it to my shelf but was completely lost on my “date.” I learned a lot on that trip up route seven, and i’m still learning from this package.


typographic kunst

bau kunst088

great typography needs little explanation. this piece of graphic design has graced my wall off and on for years. it has inspired me, hopefully it will inspire you.