’Tis up to you!
“The poor printing is a great benefit to the chap who does good printing, for all work is either good or bad, by comparison, and the greater the comparison, the most extreme the goodness or the badness. The goodness of printing is not altogether dependent upon the material employed, but when that material is poor the product will come pretty near being the same.”
American line type book (ATF, 1906)
Here’s a fun video that illustrates the craft behind the logo:
Bravo, Yahoo! What a brilliant strategy of lowering expectations! After the 30 days of visual burping, I expected much worse. Still… not good. The desire to rekern this word is all-encompassing. Speaking of compasses, the video above includes that familiar (crop) circle nonsense that we have now come to expect with any megabrand relaunch. The rationalization comes complete with fictional blueprint, arbitrary grid lines, imaginary metrics, and that telltale expression of emptyness: “craft”. I guess if you’re going to invent some geometrical basis for your logotype, you could do worse than the ‘O’ counter from Hermann Zapf’s Optima.
But there is hope: this particular example is so over-the-top, perhaps it’s a sign that this sad PR trend has finally jumped the shark.Update: CEO Marissa Mayer adds more detail about the logo, declaring that they “spent the majority of Saturday and Sunday designing the logo from start to finish” and that the video was created by an intern, Max Ma. Max, excellent work, young man. It’s not your fault. I’m just sorry you were asked to do it.
Robert Krulwich at the UC Berkeley Journalism School Commencement in 2011 on “horizontal loyalty”.
That’s how my dad did it. He became a publisher of a magazine because he founded it himself, from scratch, with friends. He didn’t rely on people in high places. He relied on himself and young peers he respected.
Found via Tim Carmody on Kottke.
Curtis Jere Bicycle Wall Sculpture
Curtis Jeré (AKA C. Jeré, or Jere) is a compound nom-de-plume of artists Jerry Fels and Curtis Freiler. The metal sculptures, often meant for hanging on the wall, have become increasingly popular over the last few years as mid-century modern style has propagated the mainstream. Much of the C. Jere work is minimal and abstract, but this piece is unusually detailed.
This theme is handsome and had a good run, but it’s time to put him out to pasture. The font licensing is questionable as well. I doubt that fonts from Monotype can be Cufóned, especially now that they are available as proper webfonts.
Spartan, produced in the late 1930s, was Mergenthaler Linotype and ATF’s knockoff of the extremely popular Futura (Bauer). If you see Futura in a magazine or newspaper published in mid-century America, there’s a good chance it’s actually Spartan (or the other followers: Twentieth Century, Tempo, or Vogue).
“Although it is claimed to have been derived from several similar European typefaces, the differences between it and Futura are so slight that for most practical purposes they are almost interchangeable.” — Mac McGrew in American Metal Typefaces of the Twentieth Century
Still, like many imitations, Spartan offered some things the original did not: such as a double-story alternate ‘a’ (shown in the Linotype specimen), special “Advertising Figures”, and unique “Classified” cuts (released later) for very small type. The originality of the Classified fonts could explain why they are the only styles available in digital form. For a digitization of Spartan that emulates a rough printed impression, check out Mark Simonson’s Metallophile.
On the one hand, the sameness laid bare in this piece can be easily be derided for its lack of imagination, and yet it can be celebrated on the other because—let’s face it—Sorkin-speak has that unique tendency to transcend everything else in the frame, including story, plot, lighting, and direction. It’s that much fun to hear.— Ken Cancelosi
The collections are great, but he’s missing two very frequent Sorkinisms: “walk with me” (used to trigger one of the typical Sorkin hallway dialogs), and “wait for it” (with a pause before a punchline).
“Sell your expertise and you have a limited repertoire. Sell your ignorance and you have an unlimited repertoire. He was selling his ignorance and his desire to learn about a subject. The journey of not knowing to knowing was his work.” — Richard Saul Wurman on Charles Eames