How to Use Graphic Design to Sell Things

by Michael Bierut

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  How to set a table The restaurants of Bobby Flay Opposite My partners and I have worked with chef Bobby Flay on almost all of his restaurants. His latest is Gato, in downtown Manhattan. A few years back, “experience design” was all the rage. Designers, advertisers, and marketers suddenly seemed to realize that consumers didn’t form their impressions of brands based solely on logos and advertisements. Instead, their opinion of a product or company emerges from a broad range of “touchpoints” based on a “360-degree view” of human experience. Or, as normal people might call it, real life. This was evidently a surprise to self-obsessed communications professionals. But it wouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone who’s ever run a restaurant. Great restaurateurs understand that a restaurant experience must engage all five senses; that the way you’re greeted at the door is just as important (maybe more) as the way the food tastes; and that the dining experience is fundamentally theatrical, with guests who are both audience and performer. Bobby Flay is one of the best-known chefs in the world. A culinary wunderkind born and bred in New York, he mastered the art of southwestern cuisine at Mesa Grill, and reinvented the midtown dining experience at Bar Americain. He and his partner Laurence Kretchmer know exactly what it takes to run a deliriously successful restaurant. We discovered the key is communicating with absolute precision to the target audience. What should they expect and how can you exceed those expectations? Bobby’s Burger Palace is a “fast casual” experience: great burgers, fries, and shakes delivered to your seat with efficient finesse. Everything about the design of the space supports this idea: the counters that snake around the room, the horizontal lines that reinforce the idea of speed. Our logo borrows those forms to make a hamburger out of the name itself: bun, burger, and lettuce in perfect equipoise. Bobby’s upscale restaurant, Gato, in Manhattan’s Noho district, is the opposite: inventive, customized dishes, each created to order, with every detail implying the attention of the passionate chef behind the scenes. The graphics are tailored and understated. Two restaurants, two graphic languages, two experiences: working on Gato and Bobby’s Burger Palace reminded us that what ends up on the plate is only the beginning. 00882_Bierut_CS5.5_PENTAGRAM_02.indd 275 275 30/04/2015 14:0

  Bobby’s Burger Palace is Flay’s tribute to the hamburger joints of his youth. Painstakingly researched on trips back and forth across the United States, the menu features everything from the Philadelphia Burger (provolone cheese, griddled onions, hot peppers) to the Dallas Burger (spice-crusted patty, coleslaw, Monterey Jack cheese, BBQ sauce, pickles) to the LA Burger (avocado relish, watercress, cheddar cheese, tomato). Starting with a single location in suburban New Jersey in 2008, there are now 18 BBPs around the United States. Right and opposite Everything about the graphic program for BBP is bright and lively. We based our graphic motifs and color scheme on Rockwell Group’s energetic interior design, which can be reconfigured for spaces of all sizes and shapes. Bobby offers to “crunchify” each burger (by adding a layer of potato chips); designer Joe Marianek and I tried to keep the graphic program just as brazen. Above The typography for the Bobby’s Burger Palace logo is stacked like the joint’s signature product. It can also reduce to a vertical initials-only acronymic “slider.” 276 The restaurants of Bobby Flay 00882_Bierut_CS5.5_PENTAGRAM_02.indd 276 30/04/2015 14:0

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  Gato opened on Lafayette Street in lower Manhattan in 2014, Bobby Flay’s first new restaurant in nearly ten years. Located in a renovated 1897 warehouse, it celebrates the flavors of the Mediterranean, with dishes and ingredients from Spain, Italy, France, and Greece. The space’s renovation, again by Rockwell Group, balances cosmopolitan luxury with downtown grit. Our goal with the graphic program was to do the same. Next spread The exterior of Gato on Lafayette Street. The chef is visible through the window on the right. Right and opposite The balance of tough and luxe is maintained in every detail. The secondary typeface Pitch, a refinement of monospaced typewriter fonts, is paired with deep blues from the hand-set tile work on Gato’s floors. Pentagram’s Jesse Reed supervised details from the gold leaf logos on the windows to the hand-painted “Employees must wash hands” notice in the WC. Above Gato’s logo is based on Anthony Burrill’s stylish-but tough typeface Lisbon, itself inspired by the street addresses of its namesake city and other Mediterranean locales. 278 The restaurants of Bobby Flay 00882_Bierut_CS5.5_PENTAGRAM_02.indd 278 30/04/2015 14:0

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  How to survive on an island Governors Island Next spread The enormous gantries at the island’s docks serve as gateways upon arrival and as frames upon departure. Their structure provided the key to our approach to the island’s signs. Opposite and above For most of its history, Governors Island had very few visitors. It was a secret destination hiding in plain sight less than half a mile from the coast of lower Manhattan. Today, it is open to the public all summer and accessible only by ferry. The island has astounding views that serve to orient visitors as they move about its periphery. 00882_Bierut_CS5.5_PENTAGRAM_02.indd 283 Governors Island sits 800 yards off the shore of lower Manhattan, reachable only by ferry, a ride that takes a little more than seven minutes. But the contrast with the city is positively surreal. There are no cars. There are no crowds. Instead, to the north, just an abandoned military base, elegant and eerie, built over a century ago. And to the south, stretches offeatureless landfill, overlooking astonishing views of Manhattan, Brooklyn, New York Harbor, and the Statue of Liberty. Our client Leslie Koch, appointed by the mayor to shape Governors Island’s 172 acres of undeveloped landfill, devised a competition to create the city’s newest public park. Dutch landscape architects West 8, led by the brilliant Adriaan Geuze, won. Our job was to create the signs that would help the island’s visitors find their way around. The island has just two “front doors,” the docks for ferries from Manhattan and Brooklyn. It wasn’t really so big you could get lost. And the glorious views provided constant orientation. It seemed easy. Yet we were struggling. I had become fixated on a single approach: bulky, cylindrical signs that worked in 360 degrees, just like the island itself. I presented ever-more-developed versions in meeting after meeting. The more I developed them, the less I liked them. Neither, I sensed, did anyone else. Finally I admitted defeat. “Can I show you something?” I asked my partner Paula Scher. I laid out months of work, alongside pictures from our many visits to Governors Island. Paula had never been there. She pointed at a picture we had taken of a gantry, one of the giant, skeletal superstructures at the island’s docks. “This is what the signs should look like. It’s all about the views, right? So why not make signs you can see through?” That took three minutes. I visited our colleagues at West 8 and asked for permission to throw everything out and start over. I thought they would be alarmed. Instead they were relieved. The new approach worked perfectly, and from the first moment we showed it to Leslie Koch, I could tell we had the answer. Today she calls them “the most beautiful signs in New York.” 283 30/04/2015 14:0

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  the signs’ structures, including supports that incorporate the curvy, organic patterns that can be found throughout their designs for public spaces. Above The signs had to look robust but playful, big enough to stand out in the environment but capable of fading into the background. Adriaan Geuze, Jamie Maslyn Larson, and their team at West 8 helped create Pentagram’s Britt Cobb and Hamish Smyth masterminded the design’s deployment and spent many hours walking and biking the island’s paths. Above We designe
d a custom typeface for Governors Island called Guppy Sans, a cross between a rugged sans serif (to reflect the island’s utilitarian past) and an ornamental display font (to suggest the lush parkland to come). 286 Governors Island 00882_Bierut_CS5.5_PENTAGRAM_02.indd 286 30/04/2015 14:0

  incorporate new desti- nations. As a result, the signs are built from modular elements that can be easily updated. Above A key challenge for the island’s signage program was anticipating change. The signs had to look permanent, but needed to be updated weekly to accommodate temporary events, and seasonally to 00882_Bierut_CS5.5_PENTAGRAM_02.indd 287 287 30/04/2015 14:0

  Above No matter how complicated the signage system, one sign is inevitably the most important. 288 Governors Island 00882_Bierut_CS5.5_PENTAGRAM_02.indd 288 30/04/2015 14:0

  Left top, middle, and bottom By using the same custom typeface on every sign, including street signs, informational signs, and interpretive signs, we hoped to create a distinct sense of place that would set the island apart from other New York destinations. Above Leslie Koch believes strongly that memorable place names are key to wayfinding. On the island, some are historic (Colonels Row) and others are brand-new (Hammock Grove); they build anticipation even as words on a map. Next spread The structure of the signs, and their location in the lush landscape of the island’s park and open spaces, suggest they might be excellent trellises. My private fantasy is to see them smothered in vines, achieving the perfect synthesis of design and nature. 289 00882_Bierut_CS5.5_PENTAGRAM_02.indd 289 30/04/2015 14:0

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  How to design two dozen logos at once MIT Media Lab Opposite The MIT Media Lab logo, created with a team at MIT led by Nicholas Negroponte, Neri Oxman, Hiroshi Ishii, and Ellen Hoffman, is intended to combine timelessness and flexibility. Above Designer Muriel Cooper, head of MIT’s pioneering Visual Language Workshop, was critical in the formation of the Media Lab. Her 1962 symbol for the MIT Press looks contemporary and was held up as a model for our identity work. 00882_Bierut_CS5.5_PENTAGRAM_02.indd 293 Digital technology forever transformed the way we communicate. It also overturned the way we decide what makes a good logo. Then came the rise of digital media. The old tests (can you fax it?) were replaced by new ones (can you animate it?). Complexity and dynamism were not only made possible by new technology, but inescapably came to symbolize it. Since 1985, the global epicenter of digital innovation has been the research groups at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology’s Media Lab. The Lab’s first identity, by Jacqueline Casey, was a malleable motif of colored bars inspired by an installation that artist Kenneth Noland had created for the original Media Lab building. It lasted two dozen years. For the Lab’s 25th anniversary, designer Richard The created a dazzling algorithmic system capable of generating over 40,000 permutations. Both programs were models of dynamic identity, capable of infinite change. But looming large at MIT was another model: the classic logo designed by Media Lab legend Muriel Cooper for MIT Press. A minimalistic configuration of seven vertical lines, it has remained unchanged since 1962. The team at MIT Media Lab came to us with a question: could a single logo combine these two traditions of timelessness and flexibility? I was already thinking about this question. Having designed more than my share of dynamic identities and non-logo logos, I had begun to doubt their power. All that variability had come to seem entropic, projecting difference without meaning. The symbols designed by Cooper and her peers during the golden age of American corporate identity, by comparison, were striking in their clarity and confidence. Our solution came after many false starts. Using a seven- by-seven grid, we generated a simple ML monogram. This would serve as the logo for the Media Lab. Then, using the same grid, we extended the same graphic language to each of the 23 research groups that lie at the heart of the Lab’s activities. The result is an interrelated family of logos that at once establishes a fixed identity for the Media Lab, and celebrates the diverse activities that make the Lab great. 293 30/04/2015 14:0

  Following spread Because all the logos in the system share the same underlying geometry, they are perceived as a family, a whole that exceeds the sum of its parts. Right Our logo for MIT Media Lab was created by constructing a simple ML monogram on a seven- by-seven square grid. Opposite The symbol for the Media Lab does not vary, but the relationship between type and symbol does. Next spread The same seven-by-seven grid was used to create logos for the Lab’s research groups, from Affective Computing to Viral Communica tions. Each logo uses the group’s initial letters to generate a unique configuration. 294 MIT Media Lab 00882_Bierut_CS5.5_PENTAGRAM_02.indd 294 30/04/2015 14:0

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  Right bottom The logo, rearranged, becomes a playful arrow pointing to the Media Lab’s upper floors. Right top The typeface Helvetica has been associated with MIT’s graphics since the 1960s, when designers like Jacqueline Casey, Muriel Cooper, Ralph Coburn, and Dietmar Winkler were among the first to introduce the Swiss-based “international style” of design to the United States. We used it throughout the identity program, and extended it to the Lab’s wayfinding. 300 MIT Media Lab 00882_Bierut_CS5.5_PENTAGRAM_02.indd 300 30/04/2015 14:0

  Right top and bottom Interactive touchscreens help visitors find their way throughout the Lab complex and announce current programs and coming events. Next spread The new identity was launched at the Media Lab’s Fall 2014 Member Event, which appropriately had the theme “Deploy.” Following spread Designer Aron Fay masterminded the imple- mentation of this intricate program, including the application of the same graphic language to posters celebrating the Deploy Member Event. 00882_Bierut_CS5.5_PENTAGRAM_02.indd 301 301 30/04/2015 14:0

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  How to save the world with graphic design The Robin Hood Foundation’s Library Initiative Opposite One of my favorite projects began with a technical problem. Designing graphics for libraries in schools throughout New York City, we learned that the buildings were old and the ceilings were high. But the kids were little, so the highest shelf they could reach was only halfway up the wall. What could fill the rest of that space? At P.S. 184 in Brooklyn, the answer was oversized portraits by my wife, Dorothy Kresz. 00882_Bierut_CS5.5_PENTAGRAM_02.indd 307 The Robin Hood Foundation had taken on a big challenge: transforming the quality of education at public schools in some of New York’s toughest neighborhoods by focusing their attention on a single room, the school library. A group of architects was asked to design the libraries, and we volunteered to be the project’s graphic designers. Our assignment seemed clear: give the program a logo, and create signs to identify the participating schools. We were almost done when one of the architects asked us to help fill the space between the kid-size shelves and the high ceiling. I pictured a modern version of a classical frieze along the top of the walls, celebrating not ancient gods but the kids themselves. My wife, Dorothy, took their portraits. It became a favorite in the system. Every school wanted a mural. The new libraries were opening in places like Harlem, East Brooklyn, and the South Bronx, serving hundreds of children and, after school, their communities. We decided to make each mural different. We asked illustrators Lynn Pauley and Peter Arkle to do portraits. Designers like Christoph Niemann, Charles Wilkin, Rafael Esquer, Stefan Sagmeister, and Ma
ira Kalman agreed to contribute. One day, we took a tour of the completed libraries. It was thrilling to see them filled with kids that might discover their futures there, as I had so many years ago in my own school library. Our last stop was at the end of the school day. It was getting late. As the librarian was closing up, she asked, “Would you like to see how I turn out the lights?” Slightly baffled, I said, sure. “I always turn this light out last,” she explained. It was the one that lit the mural of the faces of the school’s students. “I like to remind myself why we do all this.” I understood only then the real purpose of our project: to help this librarian and the dozens like her to do their jobs better. In a way, this is the only purpose my work has ever had. For design can’t save the world. Only people can do that. But design can give us the inspiration, the tools, and the means to try. We left determined to keep trying. 307 30/04/2015 14:0