JKR

I started the week wondering what Charlie Chaplin might teach us about the art of iconography, so there is a sort of symmetry to closing the week doing the same with Marilyn. This statue went up in Chicago last year. Beyond being big, it’s slightly creepy to my eyes. But it further cements Monroe’s position as the ultimate ‘sex symbol’.

So, what made her an icon? I’m raiding a longer piece I wrote on what defines iconic design but here is my observation: being visually iconic is never about just one thing – it’s about all the visual ingredients acting in concert to proclaim the core proposition. A gestalt of small but crucial elements.

Arguably Monroe was just one of a crowd of equally blonde, curvy but ultimately doomed starlets. Her looks alone were not enough to make her an icon. But her particular gestures, costumes, breathless delivery & that little beauty spot all combined to make her distinctive. It helped that her films (the ‘product’) were better than Jayne Mansfield’s, but probably equally important was that her producers recognised the value of typecasting (which created a brand where once there was an actress).

But perhaps it all came down to a lucky bounce – a great costume design, specifically made to dramatise a comedy moment where the air from a passing subway train raised her skirt. Freudian analysis aside, this made for a pose and visual shape and bizarre context every bit as unusual and arresting as Botticelli’s Birth of Venus.

The dress recently sold for $4.6 million at auction – clearly it has the same ‘iconic’ status in its own right as Dorothy’s ruby slippers. Designed by William Travilla, according to Wikipedia “the dress has a simple design. It is a light-coloured ivory cocktail dress in a style which was in vogue in the 1950s and 1960s. The halter-like bodice has a plunging neckline and is made of two pieces of pleated fabric that come together behind the neck, leaving the wearer’s arms, shoulders and back bare. The waistband falls immediately under the breasts, and stands out from the top. Below the waistband is a long pleated skirt.” All quite prosaic but clearly this was a design with a purpose – the dress was deigned to billow as the story demanded, and so to amplify all the star’s assets. Driving the narrative, making the most of what you have and doing it in a visually arresting way are, I guess, three pretty good ambitions for any design aiming to build iconic status.

To try and draw these meanderings to a point, iconic looks are a combination of small things, served up in a slightly unusual way. And while design iconography can take years to establish in the minds of the audience, this moment from The Seven-Year Itch proves that an indelible image can be seared into our collective memory in just a few seconds.

Considering ‘that dress’, can you think of any other piece of design that has gained instant fame by being introduced in such a bold manner?

“We would like nothing more than some company in China to make a million of these. It would be perfect, we would achieve our goal, which is ubiquitous presence of cheap computers.”

That’s Eben Upton talking about his ‘$25 dollar credit card sized computer’. It might not win any awards for beauty, but it’s a design interesting for going against the norms. Not only does Raspberry Pi (the not for profit foundation behind the computer) actively want to be copied by the Chinese, they also have a design whose back to basics approach makes ‘less is more’ Apple look like an overindulged Rococo fantasy of over design. In a world where content becomes ever cheaper (and many expect it to be free), we are paradoxically wanting to pay more and more for the delivery technology. If you don’t think your iPad is swanky enough on its own merits, then you might be inclined to clad it in a Louis Vuitton casing. Clearly the $25 computer goes in the opposite direction. Most importantly they have a ‘brand mission’ which is all about us and not about them; the idea (described as ‘almost nationalist’) is to help kids learn how computers work, the better to tackle the issue of a scarcity of engineering graduates in the UK. To this end, in the foundations words:

“There isn’t much any small group of people can do to address problems like an inadequate school curriculum or the end of a financial bubble. But we felt that we could try to do something about the situation where computers had become so expensive and arcane that programming experimentation on them had to be forbidden by parents; and to find a platform that, like those old home computers, could boot into a programming environment.”

All in all, today’s post is a counter-weight to yesterday’s ruminations on maximalism – this is all about being pared down to the bone.

Like all good ideas, this one has some other bounces beyond a desire to educate – notably in developing world scenarios, where processing power at a fraction of the typical costs is obviously very attractive. All you need is a TV monitor to plug into and the little bugger can run intensive games like Quake. Or, you know, make the world a better place – notably making access to the Internet possible without spending a few hundred pounds on a computer. It calls to mind the wind up radio in spirit – making something of huge benefit more widely accessible, as a mission rather than as a business plan. Not that such very cheap technology would be unattractive to the world of marketing and brand activity.

At one of our recent Platform events, Simon Gulliford put forward one of his ‘undeniable truths’ for marketing:

“In the long term price goes down. If we accept the reality of free markets, then we have to accept the reality that prices go down in the long run (house prices in London being the exception!). The erosion of margins force us to increase efficiency.”

Simon illustrated his point with the relative decline in TV prices, as the product just gets better. Raspberry Pi offer an accelerated version of this principle, and all for a good cause.

And as Upton explains at this post’s opening, if he gets ripped off, that just helps his mission – a win-win design strategy. Is this the British design of the year already?

The quotes here were taken from EDN news. Thanks to Dave Birss of Additive for the tip off. Raspberry Pi has a FAQ page here.

Lola is a brilliant example of exuberant design. Today’s Guardian tells us smiles are back in fashion and here is a design that delivers one. Against a general trend for stripping things back, I wonder what might happen if a few of our Superbrands chose, instead, to guild the lily.

Wandering the British Museums rooms showcasing European design of the past few hundred years is rather like eating slice after slice of rich gateau cake. Lovely, but filling. Opulent, intricate, bejewelled and complex objects, all with a high level of craftsmanship at every turn. One could truthfully say “they don’t make ‘em like that anymore”. Often because we can’t – industrial design has robbed us of the skills and process. But I wonder, in our ‘less is more’ current phase of design, might we be about to see this very different aesthetic making a return, with maximalism replacing minimalism. Please indulge me in this whimsical line of thought…

My rationale is pretty thin, but here’s why I think it might be possible. Firstly, the downturn is not going away. If we face a few more years of this, we will be crying out for a little more design opulence and glamour to offset our mood. ‘Stripped back and minimal’ is a great look in times of plenty, but those cabinets in the British Museum came from times of poverty, where design’s task was often to transcend the crude and everyday, and to dazzle. There is something going on when iPhone’s protective covers are embroidered, beaded or covered in Swarkovski crystals. We are already wanting a bit more bling.

In addition, craftsmanship takes time and time costs money. As society polarises into haves and have nots, nothing will say ‘I am in the top tier’ like sporting design which is handcrafted – time intensive production says ‘luxury’. Industrial design, particularly in the stripped back sense, is too much of a level playing field on which to stand out. The more intricate and complex the design, the better to display the artisan’s skill and the client’s deep pockets. And retailers like Anthropologie show this look can, in any case, be mass-produced…

One obstacle to such a swing would be global brands aiming for a broad global market, where the design minimalism is culturally bland enough to fit in anywhere (IKEA for example). Maximalist design will carry more cultural reference points and might travel less easily. But the more we start to look the same, the more I believe we will start striving to be different.

Of course maximalism is already here – I just wonder if it will become a more general approach rather than just the odd gold-plated Oligarch’s sports car or fancy perfume design. We’ll really know it is making a big comeback if we see a less minimalist design approach applied to a mainstream car design, or a can of budget price beans. As belts tighten further, we all might be left wanting a design tonic. And high craft carries the ultimate expression of premium. So, might we be entering into a golden age for the florid and the excessive in design? It’s kind of fun to think so…

Note – the images here are all from the British Museum website – well worth an explore…

Moleskine gave the arche­type of an artist’s journal solid form, reviving a tradi­tional format and serving it up as a definitive classic. The design’s detailing transformed a fanciful tale of artistic provenance into a real brand. The paper quality, the elasticated binding, the ribbon book­ mark and the inside pocket discreetly holding the slip of paper on which the brand’s back story is told all helps to convince us this is the real deal. These touches got the brand stocked in and associated with all the right places. This took it from an arty niche to mainstream success.

As with Filofaxes in the 80s, plonking one down on a meeting table became a display of one­upmanship. As an early user I took the original leather­bound version backpacking, using it for its stated purpose – as a notebook for jottings and drawings. The robust design endured myriad climates and much bashing about, becoming a treasured companion. So seeing it adopted by the world of business meetings rankled with me. It seemed vainglorious to suggest that notes from a dreary meeting might follow in the footsteps of Hemingway.

So I applaud the brand for also producing humbler card­covered versions for these more prosaic occasions. These ‘basic books’ have beautiful detailing. They show design can be about quality that is known, not flaunted. Moleskine’s recognition as a status symbol has been achieved through design understatement – be it in the boardroom or the backpack.

By Silas Amos, Creative Director, jkr.

It’s quite an achievement to develop an image so distinctive that it’s easily recognised even in silhouette. At the height of his fame, Chaplin’s film posters sometimes ran without his name added, so successful was the image he created. For sometime I’ve been meaning to look up what Chaplin can teach us about the art of creating a brand. So reading that the V&A is soon to mount a big show of film costumes, with his little tramp suit center stage, prompted me to do so. I assumed there were some general lessons we might draw.

How Chaplin developed the look is related in two manners: as an inspired moment, then again as a carefully thought through strategy. First the inspiration:

“The character of the Tramp was originally created by accident while Chaplin was socialising with some other famed actors of the day. Chaplin decided to make his companions laugh by putting on Buster Keaton’s shoes on the wrong feet, a jacket that was too large for him, a hat and the hairs off a shoe brush for a mustache.”

Just a lark then. However, looking back in the 1930s, Chaplin himself told an interviewer:

“A hotel set was built for (fellow Keystone comic) Mabel Normand’s film Mabel’s Strange Predicament and I was hurriedly told to put on a funny make-up. This time I went to the wardrobe and got a pair of baggy pants, a tight coat, a small derby hat and a large pair of shoes. I wanted the clothes to be a mass of contradictions, knowing pictorially the figure would be vividly outlined on the screen. To add a comic touch, I wore a small mustache that would not hide my expression. My appearance got an enthusiastic response from everyone, including Mr. Sennett. The clothes seemed to imbue me with the spirit of the character. He actually became a man with a soul – a point of view. I defined to Mr. Sennett the type of person he was. He wears an air of romantic hunger, forever seeking death, but his feet won’t let him.”

This second tale has more to teach us I think; how a technically challenging context (here the crudeness of the cinematography) can be an inspiration rather than a barrier, but in either case is a deciding factor for the look. And how even the most distinctive touch has to serve a more practical purpose (the moustache  being small enough to not swamp exaggerated facial expressions). But the first story also carries a lesson: whatever the truth about rigour and insight, a nice fable encourages us all to see the work in a magical light. ‘Print the legend’ as the saying goes.

A final observation: even the most distinctive and groundbreaking image is not immune to copycatting. There is a suggestion that Hitler put his anti-Semitism to one side to adopt Chaplin’s moustache, believing it would help make him as popular as the globally adored comic. Famously Chaplin himself once came third in a Chaplin lookalike contest. So consolation here for those of us developing trademark looks in a less stellar context…

Source for quotes : Wikipedia