Finally watched I Am Love the other night. Can’t say I loved it. In fact, I found it pretty tedious and self-indulgent as it moved on. I thought the aspects of the film occupied with the formal restraint of family and environment, especially with all the early 20th cent art and design influence, were much more dramatic than all the florid cooking, hot sex and pubic hair– forgive me. But I suppose it is that very dialectic within the film that is so effectively captured by the title sequence designers and their dramatic use of type: the embellished, romantic script vs the sans serif modernist caps. It’s the best part of the film. Better than Tilda Swinton’s pubic hair. I promise.
A friend of a friend who works at Motorola posted this to the Motorola Facebook page. Said she found it “in an old desk in my dad’s basement.” Thought we might appreciate it. We do!!! I am going to assume this is a printing plate of some kind and someone hit the ole reflect button in ps. Classic stuff.
I hesitate from being too dramatic here, though I realize drama befits any discussion of pasta. Still, even if the issue be only graphic and typographic in nature, the style is so brutal and austere in form and type and so bold and passionate in proportion and color that I can’t help but say that if I ever make a single layout as simple and striking and beautiful as this, I promise to die a happy man and forfeit all prior grievances. Really. The people at Molino & Pastificio have produced some of the best packaging of all time. (Eat your fill Lester Beall.) I’ve taken my time and considered my words. And I’m comfortable with that statement.
My dear friend Jessica sent along this (regrettably out-of-date) Gentlemen’s Companion, a guide to the better gentlemen’s establishments of New York City as published in 1870 and digitally archived by The New York Times. It is a funny little book with classic syntax and typography and a niche glimpse into the city’s historical landscape. Thanks J!
Every now and then I see something that convinces me once again that we have the potential to create and run institutions that celebrate and support a variety of human conditions and needs. God bless the Brooklyn Museum!!
I’ve been researching playing card designs through history for a job and the other day I passed the playing card section (who knew?) at Duane Reade and was struck by how every brand on sale in 2011 is still basically using a design language from over 100 years ago. What is it about playing cards that makes their manufactureres think that not only do they not need to be modernized to capture market share in a big box retailer, but that they shouldn’t? Most brands find ways to maintain legacy and authenticity while still keeping up with aesthetic trends and most consumers demand that. Why not with playing cards?