For the last fifty years or so, there were a few ways for a person to be influenced by the outside world (radio, television, printed materials, actually leaving the house)  and advertisers had every base covered with their brand-related stories: a billboard with a smile, a commercial alluding to Orwell’s 1984, an ad that talked about cars like normal people do… each expertly tuned to play on our emotions. With the explosion of the web, a whole new line of communication with the outside world was opened, and advertisers have been scrambling, ever since, to figure out the key psychology of reaching us in this brave new space.

There have been wonderful attempts, but from what I have seen, the advertising world as  a whole has still not fully grasped this problem. Instead, people like Randall Rothenberg, president & CEO at the Interactive Advertising Bureau, insist that we make a massive effort to get this internet thing back under creative control, so that we can give people more of those resonant, emotional brand experiences for which consumers still surely pine.

The Creepiness of It All

Imagine you are sitting around a table with a group of friends, having a conversation. One person says something, another reacts and rebuts, another reacts to the rebuttal, and so on… Thoughts are shared, bonds are strengthened, and the conversation builds in to a pleasing, enriching experience. Everyone gains, as everyone learns from those that contribute.

Now, imagine that a slightly plastic, well-designed facsimile of a person takes measured strides up to your table, has a seat, and, in an aluminum voice, begins telling you of the value of Acme brand shaving products. You try to respond to what this robo-person is saying, but you get no encouraging feedback from the bot; just continued praises of the Acme brand. You turn to your friends, each as bewildered as you, and after a few goofy looks and sarcastic remarks about the new psuedo-entity at the table, everyone continues their conversation, doing their best to drown out the noisy insistence of Acme brand marketing-speak.

This is internet advertising’s failure, and it happens because of the tired notion that people want to hear a story about the brands they consume. The internet is a social medium, and stories do not make for engaging conversation.

The Internet is Full of Pragmatists

The Cluetrain Manifesto (soon to celebrate its tenth birthday) reminded us that before there was advertising, there were markets, and before there were mediums for advertising, there was conversation. With our new found ability to reach out and share with anyone over the web, conversations are again becoming the crucial aspect of any brand-consumer relationship. On the net, consumers are no longer broadcasted to; consumers can actually join in the conversation, and now give continual brand feedback, both to the brand and amongst themselves (or in the worst scenario: only amongst themselves).

Now I cannot tell you the last time I had a conversation about any specific brand, but I can guarantee you that the conversation was based on product benefit, not on any story that was handed me by that brand. If any stories were related, they were entirely my own.

This is how internet advertising succeeds: by facilitating the sharing of the consumer’s brand-related story with both the brand, and other future/present/past consumers. And, of course, encouraging further sharing.

Who Decides What’s “Creative”?

So maybe this is too boring for an industry full of massive budgets, elaborate photo-shoots, and celebrity endorsements. Maybe it is a bit tough to tie a Ludacris endorsement in to a forum thread, or leverage your client’s NASCAR sponsorship in a Facebook application. Creativity on the web, or anywhere for that matter, is not easy, nor is it wholly centered on well-crafted stories, or expensive aesthetic ephemera.

The more advertiser’s try to mold the net in to another story delivery system, the less their clients will see any return. Sure, TV advertising is still succeeding, mainly because advertisers have had lots of time to find what works best for that medium. Television also happens to be perfectly suited for delivering stories, as is print. But bringing the story-based model to the web is like airing a radio broadcast on HDTV. In order to fully take advantage of the breadth of experience the interenet can provide consumers, advertisers need to put away the storybooks, and reaquaint themselves with the art of conversation.

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Some typefaces aren’t bad: they’re just poorly applied. Some are so useful, they become ubiquitous, and others are just completely devoid of purpose. I like to think of typefaces more as tools of communication, with specifically designed purposes, rather than objects of art. By regarding typography as a tool, you can focus more on the intended function of a particular typeface, allowing for a more appropriate application, and generally, a more successful communication. Here are some of the most ubiquitous typefaces used in design these days, and how each is used, abused, or can be properly avoided.

Times New Roman: The Underdog

Times New Roman could easily be considered the most successful typeface of all time. Within a few years of being commissioned from Stanley Morison (with Victor Lardent) for The Times newspaper in 1931, TNR was the most widely used typeface in the newspaper industry, seeding its massive popularity 60 years before it was ever packaged with Microsoft products. One of the safest bets in the world of design these days, though, is that in any “properly” considered piece (except newspapers), the type setting will not be in Times New Roman. The mindset persists, with designers, that if TNR is a default typeface (as it is in the majority of software), any designer worthy of firing up an Adobe product should be able to explore options beyond the default. Is popularity, though, really a sound reason to banish a typeface from our type libraries?

TNR has enjoyed such a wide application for a reason. It not only revolutionized the newspaper industry at its birth, but it has survived on the merits of its design to out-live its original medium, and extend its typographic legacy long in to our digital times. Default or not, Times New Roman continues to be used in fresh and interesting new ways, and serves as a consistently solid serif choice in both print and web-design.

Suggested Usage:
For further examples of Times New Roman’s continued relevance, check out this article by David Shea, and take a look at how Coudal Partners have successfully utilized TNR for their site.

Helvetica: Mr. Popularity

If we’re still betting on typography, the second safest bet in design today is that in any given design piece, Helvetica has been used somehow. Helvetica has been, and continues to be an immensely popular typeface. Heck, like any good celebrity, it’s even had a movie made of its life. First drawn in 1956 by Max Miedinger, and based on Akzidenz Grotesque, Helvetica’s forms “evoke uncultivated strength, force and persistence”, as Robert Bringhurst has described it in The Elements of Typographic Style. Given these attributes, it is no wonder why designers have applied Helvetica to everything from subway signage, to toothpaste ads, to web pages.

But are all of these applications appropriate? Mr. Bringhurst goes on to say that even the lighter weights of Helvetica, issued in more recent years, “have done much to reduce its coarseness, but little to increase its readability.” The fact is, Helvetica, and its recent incarnation Helvetica Neue, are primarily successful as display typefaces, used best in headers and signage, not body copy. Therefore, Helvetica, as a tool for any typographer, is seriously limited.

Suggested Usage:
Helvetica’s not-too-distant cousin, Arial, is actually much more adept in the areas that Helvetica is weak, since Arial was designed for better readability at small sizes and on the screen. Like Times New Roman, Arial is also an unfortunately overlooked typeface, and many designers ridicule its homeliness, while negating its usefulness as a body copy workhorse. But by combining Helvetica and Arial, and utilizing each for their specific strengths, both can work in tandem to achieve a typographical success.

Copperplate: The New Black

Banks, steakhouses, law firms, and auto-repair shops… Copperplate has been used for all sorts of purposes, and has fastly become the de facto typeface for any piece that requires an air of establishment. Designed by the enormously successful typographer Frederic Goudy in 1901, Copperplate Gothic was intended to be set at small sizes on letterhead and business cards. Today, Copperplate has become the typeface of the modern suburb, assuring consumers that businesses of every sort are worthy of their money.

Copperplate’s sharp serifs work well to aid its readability at smaller sizes, but also seem to be misunderstood as giving the characters an old-world, stable ambience. The main distinctive feature of Copperplate is exactly why it has become so attractive to designers, and is exactly why it fails as a display typeface. The pointy serifs, at larger sizes, create distracting hot points at the ends of the letter-forms, severing the relationships between each letter, and forcing each character to be read individually. This destroys readability, and when Copperplate is overused, the effect can become quite nauseating.

Suggested Usage:
Keep it small.

Serpentine: Why?

I see the growing popularity of Serpentine as heralding the eventual descent of the Western world in to utterly encompassing idiocy. In fact, I cannot view any piece utilizing Serpentine without thinking of Mike Judge’s Idiocracy. Unleashed in 1972 by Dick Jensen for the Visual Graphics Corporation, Serpentine has a few weights, but only one speed: maximum warp. But even with its overly emphasized, horribly distorted letter-forms,  Serpentine has its place. And for the love of all that we hold sacred as designers: keep it there.

What kind of a prison should we keep this beast in? One contained within the four walls of NASCAR, Professional Wrestling, strip clubs, and all-night discos. Anything including and related to these establishments have full reign to use Serpentine. Everything else must please find some other way of trying to convey speed, power, aggression, or machismo, unless you wish to do so in the cheapest fashion possible.

Suggested Usage:
Other type families to consider, besides this plague: Akzidenz Grotesque, Univers, Eurostile, or anything else bold and italic.

Special thanks to Richard Molinaro for the piece featured on this page. See the full piece here, or to view other examples of Richard’s typographic works,
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Too often, I hear design referred to in terms generally reserved for grade-school art classes. We, as professionals in this industry, are expected to throw out rules, eschew convention, and break down any barriers to our wild creative whims. Armed with this sentiment—their egos checked only by their client’s limited pocket books—many creatives brazenly tromp down the path less traveled, knee high in the formless mirth of their fantasies, with no regard for efficacy or financial return. If it’s cool: it must be successful. If it hasn’t been done: give it a design award. If it makes people angry: it must be working.

Believe me, I understand. I used to draw pictures of anything I wanted, and create stack of pages filled with any thought that flew through my fanciful head… when I was ten. Now that I am grown up (mostly) and calling myself a professional, I must now plead the case for logic, conservatism, and rational thought in the process of designing effective solutions for our clients. They have trusted us with their hard-earned revenues, and it is our responsibility to apply it with constant regard for the results they will see from our creative output.

Effective Design is 90% Rational

As most designers, I begin each project with an in depth discovery process (better defined in Andy Rutledge’s article, “On Creativity”), which, while crafted to each individual client’s needs, generally follows a certain structure to insure that I get every bit of information that I need to accomplish the project goals. This research involves much focused thought, much more focused listening, and very little of my own whims in order to juggle client expectations, project deliverables, business needs, and the encompassing tone of a specific brand.

The next logical step of any creative process is a full exploration of all relevant possibilities. The keyword here is “relevant”. I will admit that at this point in the process, open-minds and a liberal application of thought brings about the most unexpected results, but even in this ambient step, there must be focus and structure based on the applicability of such ideas to the project strategies. There is no honor in pursuing ideas that stray too far. Jason Lynes, in his latest article, “The Designer’s Sixth Sense”, talks about a designer’s instinct helping them make decisions far faster than conscious thought. I would say that these instincts best serve to keep our filters in check when brainstorming, because even that “momentary influx”, as Jason puts it, is based on our own learned rationale.

From here, designers generally follow an iterative process, and by applying a filter of cross-hatching expertise and conservative thought, strain out the contrived, the inappropriate, and the whimsical, and find only those solutions that best serve all desired outcomes of the project. This is no time for impulsiveness. Only a deliberate and unflinching dose of logic will deliver the best concepts.

God, or the Devil, in the Details?

Once an idea has solidified, the execution phase of a project begins, and now, more than ever, the processes become more focused on the hard facts of effectiveness. Is this typeface readable? Do these colors fit the brand while evoking the correct emotion? Does this image communicate? These questions do have solid answers, based upon countless books of design theory, usability testing, and behavioral psychology. Preference and taste-specific decisions really must take a back seat here to allow the communication to be successful. The most effective designs allow these details to buttress an already logical structure of concept and execution. As it has already been stated so eloquently: form follows function, and so design must follow logic.

Policing a design to perfection is, again, a rational, conservative process of elimination. Even the most liberal, rule-breaking designer must buckle down and thoughtfully labor the details. As once said by Antoine De Saint-Exupery, and continually exemplified in the most successful of designs: “Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.” Politics aside, is that not the essence of conservatism?

The Irrational 10%

Sprinkled throughout any creative process, I concede, there must be some bit of whimsy. The occasional non-sequitor in discovery, the array of thumbnails that made you snicker, and the random thought that hit you in the shower all have their place in producing great creative product. But I fear that too often we find ourselves defining our profession by the 10% that is really our most consistent liability. Creativity that waits for muses will generally wind up late, contrived, and/or over budget.

The creative industry is notorious for awarding the irrational 10%, and while I agree that a design award should only focus on design, such awards have no bearing on the project or the designer’s efficacy. Somehow, though, these awards have misguided many professionals to focus on that which is least important: The small fraction of our creative processes that should be given to over to our imaginative fancies should not be the measure of our profession.

The pervasive sentiment of desiging for creativity’s sake has already degraded other industries’ perception of our value, and will continue to do so until we, as defenders of our livelihood, can begin explaining to ourselves and others that we do not summon creativity through some mystic ritual. We have rational processes, just as any other professional, that help us to reliably arrive at solutions that will best fit our client’s needs. Just as a carpenter has many tools, we too have our toolboxes that rarely fail us, so judge our output not by the way we use our hammer, but by the sturdiness of our eventual product. Only by logic can we continue to support and strengthen the effectiveness of our labor.

I do not consider myself an overly emotional being, so please note that this article’s indulgence in one particular emotion is not to promote all emotions, all the time. In fact, I am particularly focusing on the ways in which we can control these emotions, specifically: fear, so that they need not override our professional behaviors (yes, I am still talking about creative people here).

Fear Itself

Fear is our body’s natural reaction to stress. It is a hold over from our fight-or-flight days, when we might have to urgently summon the energy to outrun a bear, or reign blows upon our next meal. In our cushy little offices of modern days, we generally avoid life-or-death encounters, and thus all that “fear” may seem a bit superfluous.

Nevertheless, it pervades our lives as professionals, especially for those in the creative fields, given the intangible nature of our clients’ fancies, and the perpetual state of preparation for the next presentation of our painstaking efforts. Whether we like to admit it or not, it’s part of the job.

Fear, though, is not a negative word. In fact, the right kind of fear is virtous and cleansing. Anger, anxiety, stubbornness, sarcasm, and rudeness are, admittedly, products of fear, and are disasterous to the state of a creative person, but these are only the outcomes of unfocused, uncontrolled fear… fear itself is purely a motivator in whatever direction you choose to take.

Fear, Virtuous

I am not afraid (ahem) to admit that I always let a bit of apprehension creep in before reviewing a new design with a client. If I have done my job, I have taken a few risks, made a few educated assumptions, and perhaps made one or two leaps of faith in my client’s perceptions of good taste. A designer may, here and there, need to challenge a client’s concept of how this project should turn out. We are, after all, crafting solutions, not turning tricks. Thus, with so many uncontrolled variables, any creative review with a client does come with a measure of fear.

The measure, though, is the indicator of professionalism. Too much fear makes one erratic, of course, and can be dangerous, but too little can also be dangerous. It can reveal a lack of preparation, risk, or thought in the process of the project. In short: where there is a bit fear, I have learned to anticipate success.

Where Fear Dare Not Tread

There is a limit to the amount any professional can allow fear in to his or her work. Fear, when allowed full reign, can paralyze creative processes and create workplace or client frictions. Though there are many permutations of fear run rampant, here are I few I particularly try to avoid:

Fear of Your Clients
Whether they be present, or potential clients, they are paying you (hopefully) for your thoughts and knowledge. Most clients are very appreciative of your insights as a professional in this field. Do not let their expectations overwhelm your thought processes, and always be confident in your own abilities to find solutions, even if you cannot see them yet. If the client is beginning to overwhelm you, though, it’s not time to be afraid… it’s time to reevaluate the scope of the project.

Fear of Criticism
If you are a creative professional and this pertains to you, get over it. Criticism will only make your work stronger and in the end, you can always ignore it.

Fear of the Future
When I was a student, I went to a design conference in Austin with a bunch of supposed “rockstar” designers sitting at an open panel, and every time someone asked about the web, they all squirmed in their seats and answered in generalities (they were all mainly print designers). That was when I knew I wanted to go in to web design.

This is not a complete list, only a few that I see most often. Any fear, left unchecked, can grow to consume an otherwise great creative person. This can lead to anger, jealousy, paranoia, and myriad other emotions that can stifle productivity.

No, Not Prozac

Controlling, and focusing fear as a professional is a skill that is learned through experience. I am much better at it than I used to be, and I strive to improve more in the future. So long as fear merely buttresses passion and intrigue, and is not my sole motivator, I believe it is serving its proper purpose.

To be creative and devoid of emotion is obviously missing the point, but to be only a slave to those whimsical chemical reactions is equally erroneous. Finding the balance in between that allows us the confidence to deliver a consistently effective creative product is what makes us professionals. Fear, in particular, can gnaw holes in creative processes and ultimately paralyze careers when left unrestrained, or can flatline all progress if completely ignored. When harnessed in just the proper fashion, though, fear can push us all past our comfortable routines, and churn our healthy creative obsessions in to bankable successes.

I specifically selected and sequenced these images to be an accurate representation of the 2008 Presidential Election process, and not show a bias towards any side. I find it interesting that the abstraction gained through the television, with just the right perspective, can give you a completely different feeling of a person, an image, or a process in general.

Objectivity is so often unused in politics. Personally, I have been glued to this race, as I am sure many others have, and I cannot help but get emotionally tied to the words being used, the images displayed, and the ramifications for my life. The pageantry of it doesn’t hurt either. I wonder, though, how often people vote rationally, rather than being swayed by cheap pulls of emotion. If you were to pull yourself out of the sound bytes, and out of your particular circumstances, would you still vote the same way?

Once you have pared the issues down to ideals, is there one party that represents all with which you agree?

Personally, I treat design professionalism as no different from any other form of professionalism. A designer’s work should not be favored or subjugated to any other work. Work is my best efforts, which I hope to trade for the fruit of other people’s best efforts.

Though I am creative, I believe in behaving in a manner that promotes the well being of my employer, not on any personal levels, but my employer as an entity as a whole. This means that I never put myself, or my preferences, above the work, the needs of the client, or the work of my peers.

I give no special purpose to the creative process (in general): it is a professional process as any other. It serves to bring about success from my work.

I define the success of the work by the goals established and agreed upon with those that pay for my agency’s or my services. I do not evaluate success by how I feel, but ultimately, if I achieve my goals, I wind up feeling excited about the project. Therefore, my processes are in no way devoid of enthusiasm, so long as that energy is focused on what is relevant.

In all of this, I do keep that creative processes have special needs, just as any other profession, but these special needs should not conflict with the responsibilities of my services. Being a creative person is no excuse for being unprofessional.

What is a Rockstar, Anyway?

Don’t get me wrong, I loves me some death metal, indie stuff, or anything else that removes my socks through rock, but I relegate it to the appropriate arena: creative inspiration. While I can see the appeal of trying to cash in on some of that raw motivation, as soon as we designers begin to define ourselves by this stereotype, we begin to not only associate our professional careers with the inspirational aspects, but all the negatives that play in to a life
of rock n’ roll.

Drug use, irresponsibility, and egotism. These may be the most important tenants of successful rock music, and they have no place in a design studio. Hendrix died young; Phil Anselmo, of Pantera, has died three times, and probably has another death swiftly approaching; there’s an entire documentary about how the Brian Jonestown Massacre’s rock excesses overshadowed their talent. Something tells me that if I were to meet any “rockstar” designers, I wouldn’t be greeted by individuals devoted to such nihilistic explorations of the
human condition.

Great rock stars would be lousy designers, lacking the discipline and respect that is needed to accomplish effective communication. I still have absolutely no idea what Kurt Cobain was trying to convey, specifically. Designers need method, objectivity and consistency: three things that would probably kill many of the albums I most revere.

If You Must, Call Me a Composer

The closest musical equivalent to a designer’s task has to be a composer. A composer has an intimate knowledge of every instrument at his/her command, and often can maintain themes across extraordinary expanses of time, while keeping consistency and harmony through all of the moving parts. Composers know how to exact a response at just the right time, and how to build an experience that will resonate for generations. If our community must pine for a musical hero, then lets set our sights to someone who is more relevant to our craft, and beneficial to our collective perceptions of both ourselves, and by our clients.

Calling ourselves “rockstars” serves to perpetuate the negative stereotypes of creative people: unreliable, selfish, and naive to the world. The only benefits we could hope to receive from such a distinction would be the short term flair of flashy gains. So, stop it. Stop acting like an rock god… you’re doing a diservice to the memory of all that is great about rock, and making it tougher for us all to achieve professional credibility.

How much should a website cost? Any given web professional can produce an array of pricing models based on the complexity of a project. The amount of time estimated, multiplied by the hourly rates of those involved would probably be the most common approach, and for good reason. Costs should be a trade on efforts, and thus an hourly rate, based upon the quantifiable measurement of the professional’s abilities is the most rational approach.

Basic economics dictate this outcome: in a free market, clients will pay what they believe the efforts to be worth. Those web professionals that overestimate the value of their efforts should eventually be forced to adjust their prices according to the demand of their services. Unfortunately, in the case of web projects, clients can be ignorant to the elements of a quality web product, and what “should” be charged has been callously misrepresented by agencies and designers. It is these various slight-of-hand tactics that make an honest assessment of rates difficult for honest businesses, and invariably devalues the worth of our profession as a whole.

The Paths of Looting

The professional web design community is unfortunately no stranger to looting, and while clients are increasingly aware of how the web can help them, they can still be hazy on the best ways to implement such solutions. This fog of understanding can lead an uninformed, yet otherwise intelligent client down multiple paths to an all out route of their hard-fought budgets.

Some projects can grow like a sponge to absorb every last dime, constantly testing the boundaries of the client’s budget, and expanding in any direction where there is give. Ultimately, the client is left with a solution that delivers well beyond their needs (careful: this is not a benefit), with a set of features that they will never use, for a price tag that will take years of careful planning to recoup. Another project can have a very attractive price tag, but ultimately delivers a solution that falls short of the client’s need, causing a second (or possibly third, etc.) investment of time and money to start the whole process over again.

An even worse possibility encompasses the most contemptible of the other two, eating years’ worth of budgets, dragging along extraneous time lines, and finally birthing an retardation of the original intent. The destination of any of these damnable routes is a product that is inappropriate, yet must be accepted until the budgets can be replenished for another try.

Check Your Premises

Undervaluing and overvaluing both destroy the true value of creative efforts, prolonging the struggle for honest web professionals to be able to ask a fair rate. Low-cost opportunists have clients believing that simple solutions come with proportionately tiny price tags, while the large interactive agencies have clients believing that true quality and return on investment can only be made through a hefty price tag, and a fully-staffed “team” of professional go-betweens. The result is a bewildered group of businesses in need of a web product, but with absolutely no idea where their project fits within these absolutes.

Clients can protect themselves through diligent research, and having a firm grasp of what it is that their web project should entail. What kind of client/server-side technologies are appropriate? What kind of return have others seen on similar projects? They should realize through this process that their particular project does not need to fit in to one of the two aforementioned pricing structures. Also, any honest agency or designer should clear away this confusion upfront, by fully explaining their rates and offering an itemized, detailed estimate of their creative efforts at the beginning of a project. This should ensure a fair appraisal of creative efforts that meets the needs of both the client and creative professionals.

This post should not be confused for some rant in favor of regulation: I firmly believe in capitalism, and in asking for the highest reasonable price for any product. A price that is based on anything other than an honest appraisal of efforts, though, and extorted from the uninformed by means of shady, smoke-and-mirrors tactics, should not be misconstrued as mere capitalistic gains. By all definitions, that’s thievery.

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