Interpretation By Design

No, this post is not about Paul and me, but with IBD turning one year old this week, it really would be easy for me to make an analogy between our relationship and interpretive design. It would be the perfect opportunity to be insightful (with occasional attempts at humor) writing about our collaborative efforts, but that’s part of the problem that led me to write this post.

I didn’t think about the after effects of a pre-Valentine’s Day post about my high school sweetheart (for the record, I have yet to hear from her…I’m still waiting Heather) and not my wife. Perhaps it was a lapse in judgment, perhaps it was a cholesterol-induced coma, or perhaps it was my wife telling me that she couldn’t believe that I wrote a Valentine’s Day post about another woman that I haven’t seen in 18 years. After almost 14 years of marriage I’m starting to learn that I should listen to my wife. I thought the Valentine’s Day post was a creative way to talk about dealing with rejection and guilt Heather into contacting me. Thankfully, the topic wasn’t on where I draw inspiration from or the most significant moments in my life.

I’m writing this post for the simple fact that I over-married. Let’s face it; I’m no George Clooney (more George Foreman). When you over-marry you spend a large portion of your life working to keep up with that person, trying to prove your validity, and attempting to display your value. It is hard work, requires a lot of careful thought, running, and Rogaine.

Not only did I over-marry but she’s also a much better person than I am. She plays the piano at church while I listen to large amounts of gangsta rap; she gives organs away to my relatives while I eat fried chicken organs; she takes great care of our children while I have to wear a nametag around the house that says “Dad.”  If I have learned anything after 14 years of marriage is that to be successful you have to be respectful of each other, maintain your authenticity, and never stop dating.

In one of the biggest leaps of faith in IBD history, I’m going to apply these three principles to interpretive design and a recent visit to the Missouri Department of Conservation’s Columbia Bottom Conservation Area near St. Louis. I had the opportunity to visit the area on a birding trip as part of NAI’s Region 6 workshop that was being held in St. Louis in February. My wife was at home taking care of the home-front while I was out searching for life birds.

It is great to see an interpretive site that is respectful of the resource. In an era of The Last Child In the Woods, an interpretive center should facilitate the visitor’s experience in the resource. In many locations you see the center become the thing itself, disrespecting the resource. Don’t get me wrong; I love a great whiz-bang interpretive center, but the goal should be getting the visitors outside in the resource and design elements should enhance the visitor’s experience—not be the experience. The designers of the Columbia Bottom visitor center were effective at respecting the resource by retro-fitting an existing barn into the facility, meeting the basic needs of visitors, setting the stage for the experience, and propelling visitors outside.

The re-designed visitor center fits well into the area landscape, is unique, has character, and is an excellent example of recycling. The interior exhibits are simple and primarily low-tech, and are all related to the resource. Animal tracks placed or imprinted into a stained concrete floor seem to lead you to large glass windows that overlook the bottoms, reminding you of the reason that you came to the site. After looking outside those windows you just have to get into the resource. For our group, the birds were calling (along with my wife with the latest disaster involving our youngest child and his preference for the use of the shower over the toilet for potty training).

When I visit sites, I’m always looking for authenticity. I want to experience the thing itself in the place itself.  The authenticity of a visit to Columbia Bottoms is improved through the interpretation. An important graphic design element is established just outside the visitor center on a wayside exhibit that becomes key to wayfinding through the area. On that exhibit there is a brief message about the area, but most importantly a visual/graphic element is established for finding specific areas of the bottom. Little explanation is needed because of the simplicity of the designs or logos for each area. Each logo has a unique shape, color, and associated illustration or design.

The graphics are simple, easy to conceptualize, and are found in various formats. Their organic design, natural shapes, intuitive colors, and simplicity all add to the overall approach. While we were there searching for birds, I found myself searching for the design element being used in the various formats. I found the designs used in brochures, road signs, trail signs, mosaics, and wayside exhibits. I also found myself searching for my friends who left me behind while I was photographing signs.

The final element of this analogy is never stop dating. This refers specifically to your significant other, not other’s significant others. If you are looking for a place to take that someone special the confluence at the bottom is a great spot. That’s all I’ve got.

But seriously, the culmination of the driving tour in the area is at the confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers. The location is unique, authentic, special, and highlighted with a beautiful overlook. The views at the confluence of these two great rivers are impressive but I was most impressed with was the confluence and culmination and the design elements leading you to the thing itself.

The overlook features benches with quotes about the rivers and the mission of the Missouri Department of Conservation and the river.  What a great place to remind visitors about who it is that is providing access to the resource. Also, you always look before you sit making it a message that will more than likely be read and just happens to be a great place to sit with your sweetie and talk about typefaces. I sat alone, carefully inspecting the sans serif type and then once again searched for my friends. Built into the walls of the overlook are tiles with all of the various elements reminding you of what you had seen on your visit and to remind you that they are there because the rivers are there.

Thanks to our guides the experience was complete with life birds. The Eurasian Tree Sparrow appeared on cue at the visitor center bird feeders as if they were on the payroll.  I appeared at home several days later and took my wife out on a date.

Photo by Michael Lorenzo

One year ago today, we asked the question “Why do we think the world needs another blog?” and with that, the Interpretation By Design blog was born. We have yet to achieve our stated goal of eradicating the world of clip art and Comic Sans, nor have we overthrown all world governments in order to impose our own merciless rule. But we have enjoyed the opportunity to dialogue with and learn from readers, as well as to rant incoherently about whatever random thought pops into our heads every Monday and Thursday.

We have gotten to brag about our respective favorite baseball teams winning the World Series (the Phillies earned their title in 2008; the Yankees purchased theirs in 2009). We have discussed design pet peeves (drop caps for me, the typeface Papyrus for Shea), and we have revealed our deepest, darkest secrets (I used to work in TV news, Shea likes Walmart).

We have learned (to our surprise) that our readers are passionate about grammatical and typographic minutiae like the difference between less and fewer and whether to single space or double space after a period—and whether they’re setting that type on a Mac or PC.

We are thrilled to have had the opportunity to use the phrase “Friend of IBD” often, not to mention that our respective marriages are still intact even after our families vacationed together during a blog-intensive week in Chicago last August. We’ve enjoyed (nearly) all of the comments that readers have left (even the one telling me that “life is too short” and that I should “get over it” in my post about drop caps).

In that first post exactly a year ago today, I wrote, “We don’t want your Social Security number, credit card information, or first-born child. You don’t even need a username or password. All you need is an interest in interpretation and/or graphic design and a moment to share your thoughts with us.”

Since then, we’ve enjoyed interacting with readers, especially when you send entertaining links and photos like this one from Friends of IBD Lori Spencer and Don Simons, who wrote after a trip to Hawaii, “Hi guys, You’ve got us noticing signs now.”

And that’s really what IBD is about. We know we’re never going to shut down a server because one of our posts goes viral on the Internet, but we hope to have found a niche of readers who find beauty in the quirky, who care about type and design, and who enjoy the way our natural and cultural heritage is presented visually at interpretive sites. We write this blog because we enjoy discussing interpretation and design. (If we didn’t have the blog, we’d probably end up writing all of the same content in emails to one another, only probably with even more snarky baseball-related comments, so it’s best for our mental health that we do have the blog.)

If we have changed the way you look at the world—noticing worn-down signs while others might be soaking a beautiful rainforest or seascape, wondering whether a specific typeface was appropriate while others enjoy the content of an interpretive exhibit, or cringing at the use of a double space after a period while others read happily along without a care in the world—then our job is done, and we are truly sorry.

And finally, an announcement: For the next year, Shea and I will use the typeface Helvetica every day until a major Hollywood studio makes a movie about us called Shea and Paul and Max and Eduard. The movie will span seven decades and tell the parallel, touching stories of the creation of the typeface and our use of it. Shea will be played by Meryl Streep.

Happiness for most interpreters is seeing a school bus leaving your interpretive site. Other interpreters and interpretive designers find complete happiness and satisfaction in their work by coming up with an original idea, working with it through the development process, and creating a program or piece that communicates the intended message and works effectively with visitors. I find happiness in sugar-based cereal, my children sleeping, and discussions about letterforms. Oh yeah, and being married to a wonderful woman.

I recently have found myself working from deadline to deadline with very limited amounts of time to dedicate to important projects. This is not how I like to work, but it is where I find myself. Working in this form and fashion does not allow much time for finding inspiration.

How can one become inspired? If we are in the business of inspiration or inspiring others, should it not come easy for us to be inspired? David Larsen in Meaningful Interpretation writes, “Interpreters must channel their own understandings, enthusiasm, passion and love for the resource so that their audiences can form their own understandings, enthusiasm, passion and love for the resource.” As interpreters know, this is no easy process and we must constantly work to develop programs and products that assist this process in taking place.  The best interpretive products, personal and non-personal, ever developed were led by inspiration.

There are many ways to become inspired. Most people in careers outside of interpretation believe that interpreters have the best jobs in the entire world. They think about how great it would be to work in that park, museum, aquarium, historic site or nature center. This happens to be one of the first things that interpreters forget about at work. They forget what brought them to the field of interpretation in the first place. I came to interpretation for the guacamole (if that makes no sense check this post out). It’s easy to do. Budgets, staffing, groups, visitors, emails, discussions about baseball, meetings, phone calls, and many other elements of day-to-day operations cloud the view of where we work.

The first thing you can do to help improve your inspiration is remember the resource. Get out in or bury yourself in whatever resource is at your disposal and be inspired by it. If you work at a zoo the latter part of that suggestion may not be the best idea, but draw colors from what you see, extract shapes from what you find, take textures and turn them into products, and finally develop meanings and relationships from what you love. Freeman Tilden referred to this as the “priceless ingredient.” This ingredient is something we hold that others would love to hold. Take advantage of how close we are to that resource and love it. Tilden wrote:

If you love the thing you interpret, and love the people who come to enjoy it, you need to commit nothing to memory. For, if you love the thing, you not only have taken the pains to understand it to the limit of your capacity, but you also feel its special beauty in the general richness of life’s beauty.

Remember, to find that first love that you had with a site or subject and inspiration in that area can be expected to follow.

Some find a steady flow of inspiration through thought and study. Immersion into thought is difficult to many designers and creators since it can be difficult and exhausting. Some of the greatest composers in the world speak to how fatiguing the thought process can be before creating. Freeman Tilden writes, “Except for the rare instances of inspiration, I should guess that the adequate interpretive inscription will be the result of ninety percent thinking and ten percent composition.”

The largest factor contributing to unsuccessful thinking is the demands on our time (and for Paul the digestion of sausage). There are always deadlines and to-do lists that are in the back of our minds blocking the creative flow. That is where thought or study through collaboration can be a great friend.  By joining forces when the blocks hit can allow developers to move forward in the creative process. Another set of eyes or cerebral lobes can bring out small elements that spark the imagination leaving you saying, “I didn’t look at it that way” or, “That’s a good idea.”

Back-up plans also include copious amounts of caffeine, frustration-driven design and finding a job where you can make real guacamole…like a restaurant. No matter how inspiration is discovered, remember where it came from, so the next time it is needed you can draw from the same source or use it to inspire new sources.

At first, I resisted writing about the logo for the winter Olympics in Vancouver, but Friend of IBD Amy Lethbridge called us out on Facebook, so it had to be done. Amy posted a link to an NPR story called Vancouver Olympic Logo: A Smiling Marker Of Death? and commented, “Come on Paul, Shea, I need to know what you think!” It got me to thinking about some of the design-related elements I’ve been noticing while watching the games.

1. I like the logo.
The logo, by the Vancouver firm Rivera Design Group, was one of 16,000 entries in a design contest. It features a human form called Ilaanaq (the Inuit word for friend), constructed in an Inuit tradition called inukshuk, the act of balancing stacked rocks. You can see a full description of the design decisions that went into the logo on GameBids.com.

The NPR story makes the point, however, that in the tradition of inukshuk, the Inuit people used these rock formations to identify good hunting grounds, and typically did not create human forms out of them. In fact, the article quotes Inuit inukshuk expert Peter Irniq as saying that you wouldn’t typically see these formations as human, and if you do, “It’s a symbol of the fact that someone may have, um, committed suicide or someone may have murdered somebody at that spot.”

But I think that using the inukshuk style is an appropriate homage to the Inuit culture without intending to be a dissertation on the meanings behind the practice. If the folks at the Rivera Design Group had made the logo some amorphous stack of stones rather than in the shape of a person, it wouldn’t have worked as a logo, and some other design firm would have gotten the award of $25,000 and two tickets to the opening reception.

As I said to Amy, I realize that I’m violating the official graphic designer credo by liking something that was created for distribution on a mass scale. We’re required by law to say something like, “Ack, it’s so corporate,” or, simply, “What were they thinking?” But I do like the logo. I find it engaging and unique.

NOTE: Added February 25, 2010: In comment #8 on this post, Canadian Friend of IBD Joan writes that there is a specific inukshuk that represents a human form found on English Bay in Vancouver (see the photo by Peter Graham above). Seems that someone should alert NPR to this.

2. I have curling fever.
Every Olympics, it seems that there’s some fashion item that becomes all the rage. This year, I thought it was going to be the moose-themed USA knit caps (or “tuques,” for our neighbors to the north) featured during the opening ceremony. Friend of IBD Jeff Miller pointed out that these hats sold out quickly and were going for upwards of $400 on eBay.

Then, bless their hearts, along came the Norwegian curling team. I am drawn to the sport of curling in general because it seems like the only winter Olympics sport not based on a dare, and because the scoring system reminds me of bocce ball, which reminds me of my annual trip to the New Jersey shore, which reminds me of boardwalk food, which reminds me of cheesesteaks and ice cream. And I like cheesesteaks and ice cream.

I particularly like that the Norwegian curling team, which like the American team is not very good, chose to recognize the non-athletic nature of this sport by wearing trousers that look like they were designed by someone who either golfs too much or has a gambling problem. Or both.

3. What is the Vancouver typeface?
I loved watching that one stretch on the luge when the contestants went by the giant, ice-encased type “Vancouver 2010.” I’m sure everyone watching the Olympics was thinking what I was thinking: I wonder what that typeface is. According to the fine people at FontShop, it’s called Charlotte Sans Std. It was designed by Michael Gills and released by the foundry International Typeface Corporation (ITC) in 1992.

Feel better? I know I do.

Note: The photo of the Norwegian curling team is by Jeff Franko/Gannett and was found on USA Today’s website. The photo of German luger Felix Loch was found on the website www.metro.co.uk.

I have recently come to the conclusion that I’m not as young as I think I am. I’ve heard that working with seasonal interpreters helps keep you young. I’m now thinking they are great at making you feel old. It is possible to stay young at heart and hip, right?

I have a brother who is less than half my age. I think it is awesome to have a little brother, Lee, who helps me “keep it real.” Right now he is blushing after my mentioning him and the phrase “keep it real” in the same sentence. On several occasions I have had conversations with Lee immediately following a conversation with a seasonal interpreter that I didn’t fully understand. Sometimes you just need a translator. I’m a good actor, so I pretend that I know what they are talking about, and then I ask for a clarification of terms from Lee before embarrassing myself any further. This keeps me from finding myself in a strange location, using phrases inappropriately or ordering something for lunch that is not fit for human consumption.

Let’s face it, I’m out of touch. But I’m willing to work at relating to this younger generation even though most of my connection to pop culture is filtered through episodes of Hannah Montana and SpongeBob SquarePants. It is not uncommon to hear me say things like “Oh, sweet niblets” or “Ah, barnacles.”

The moment that you have to ask someone what “woot” means or what “goml” means in a text, you are officially un-cool. If you don’t know what a text is, don’t worry about your standing in society because you are ahead of Paul.

Thankfully for people like me there are websites out there like Trend Central and Trendwatching that also help keep me up to date. Both are worth subscribing to and are efficient at keeping you down with the current nomenclature. (If you ever use the word nomenclature, you are un-cool.) Trend Central puts out an annual list of terms that are gaining popularity in the types of places that use slang and that rarely ever discuss the serial comma. This year’s list has some keywords that could be used in or related to the community of IBD and interpretive design.

Trend Central – New Slang

Epic Fail: n. a frequently used term in the video game community that quite simply means you really messed up and/or something/someone is an utter failure. The logo that I just spent 26 hours working on for the NAI Region 6 Workshop in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, February 28 – March 3, 2011 was an epic fail (not that I am resentful).

Geequals: n. two people who are equal in depth of arcane knowledge. Paul has no geequal.

Alt-worthy: adj. A term used to describe people or things considered to be cool or trendy. People whose computers have a full ALT key and not a function key are alt-worthy.

‘Kward (kwerd): adj. Awkward. Most of my conversations (outside the topics of Star Wars, baseball and type), primarily with the opposite sex, are ‘kward.

Trend Central – Slanging Out

Jam It: v. a retort used to tell someone you do not like what they are telling you; similar to “shut up.” It is not uncommon for readers of IBD to say “I wish you guys would just jam it about Helvetica!”

Unicorn Puncher: n. a term used to describe someone who, in the face of cute overload (whether it be in a blog or conversation), undermines their adorableness with something gross. After carefully choosing the perfect typeface, that unicorn punching editor, suggested the use of Papyrus.  

Trend Central – Slang Decoder

Gen Pop: n. term used to describe the general population when “bridge and tunnel,” yuppies, tourists or “undesirable” individuals “intrude” upon an event, outing, club or local restaurant. I was once a member of the general population while being detained for questioning, ever since then anywhere I go I feel like part of the gen pop.

G.O.M.L.: v. acronym for the phrase “Get on My Level;” said when one person both wants to imply that someone else can’t keep up and wants to urge them to catch up. My wife is constantly telling me to turn off the computer and GOML (which I found extremely hurtful as I first translated it as get out of my life).

Curl: v. a new way to crop your pants without cuffing; best for skinny jeans, curling is when you roll the bottoms of your pant legs very tightly two or three times, creating a delicate cinch above the ankle. I don’t know how to use this word in a sentence for the simple fact that I have never worn skinny jeans and I can’t believe that anything will ever be cooler than pinch rolling your pants.

Guacamole: n. money, cash, or funds. Working in the field of interpretation the only guacamole that I see is literally guacamole.

Post-Zuckerberg: adj. term used to describe the era of Facebook ubiquity. Dad, I would have called to tell you Happy Birthday, but in this post-Zuckerberg world I thought that commenting on your wall was enough.

Blow the mind of the Millennials you know by dropping some of these words/phrases into you daily conversations to prove that you are hip, relevant, and current. Improper use or the use of too many at any given moment could have an adverse effect.

The first official Canadian Friend of IBD Joan Lawrence knows us well. She clearly knows that we enjoy unique expressions of typography, especially three-dimensional type, and that we’re suckers for the typeface Helvetica. She also knows that we enjoy eating.

Joan sent us this link to a site featuring cookie cutters based on Helvetica, created by graphic designer and food-lover Beverly Hsu:

http://beverlyhsu.com/cookies.html

Needless to say, I must have these.

In the never-ending debate about the typeface, we have always leaned a little more towards “Helvetica is the ultimate achievement of typographic design” rather than “Helvetica is a corporate shill, emblematic of The Man holding us down.” But even the most vehement anti-Helvetica voices out there would have to soften at the smell of those fresh-baked sans serifs just out of the oven.

The beauty of this project is that Helvetica is the last typeface you’d associate with cookies. How many people on their way into the New York subway system look at the signage and think, “I sure am hungry for something sweet”? Sure, Max Miedinger and Eduard Hoffmann might have been striving to create the perfect neutral typeface in 1957, but cover those uniform stroke widths and unadorned letterforms with pink frosting and rainbow jimmies, and you have performed the ultimate act of recontextualizing.

I realized (perhaps too late) that my interest in food shaped like specific typefaces is not normal. I showed the Helvetica cookie cutters to Friend of IBD Howard Aprill, who, like some people we know, talks about typography in his free time (Howard once started a conversation with me by asking, “So what do you have against Comic Sans?”). Instead, Howard, who is one of the top three nicest people on the planet and has never said an unkind word about anyone, doubled over in laughter for several minutes before catching his breath and saying, “Boy, you are a nerd.”

Related to the theme of design and food, Friend of IBD Kelly Farrell sent us a link to a story on NPR called “Rectangles Vs. Triangles: The Great Sandwich Debate.” We write in the book Interpretation By Design that odd numbers of columns in a composition are more pleasing visually than even numbers. This statement from the NPR article relates to that idea:

The number 3 has always been more popular than 4, says [emeritus professor of mathematics at Vermont Technical College Paul] Calter, who writes about the intersection of math, art, and culture. Three is mother, father, and child, he says. Three is the beginning, middle and end. Three is birth, life and death. Without three, there could not be a best — only a good and a better.

As soon as I get my Helvetica cookie cutters, I’ll have to find a way to cut those fresh-baked letterforms into triangles.

This may be the saddest pre-Valentine’s day post in the history of blogging. If there is one topic that I feel comfortable writing about, it’s dealing with rejection. I could have taken this pre-Valentine’s Day opportunity to write about the things that Paul and I love (Helvetica, baseball, and sausage), what designers do on Valentine’s Day (talk about Helvetica, re-watch the 2008/2009 World Series on their respective DVRs, and eat copious amounts of sausage alone), highlight a cutesy design-related item for your sweetie, or write about the opposite of everything that Valentine’s Day stands for.

I could insert one of the many stories from my past highlighting moments of rejection that led to me being found in a fetal position in the corner of my room days later, but would that be healthy? It could be.

In high school, I was really bad in math, and by really bad I mean that I still count on my fingers while figuring a tip at restaurants. Algebra 2 was going to be the end of me, and based on my first attempt at the ACT, it was going to be the end of my parents’ dream of me going to med school (or to college for that matter). In an attempt to improve my Algebra 2 standings, I secured the assistance of a friend and tutor. If you have ever seen any after-school special or any episode of Saved by the Bell, you know where this is going.

How much she helped me with the Algebra 2, I really don’t remember. I do remember developing a crush on her. Being concerned about Algebra 2 and the need to spend time with her, I was persistent (persistent at asking her out). Much like the algebra we were working on, she was effective at reducing the frequency of the common denominator in our equation. (Note: I just exhausted every bit of math knowledge that I have in that last sentence.) For the non-math types, I was the common denominator. We never made it out beyond a school function or trip to the library, which was pretty good for me. We remained “friends” through high school.

Several years ago I heard about my tutor in the news. She had made quite a name for herself as a blogger (www.dooce.com), gaining national recognition. (Aside: Paul and I have yet to receive the same recognition or notoriety for this blog. Matt Lauer should be calling any time.) I was excited to hear about her success as a blogging-designer mommy and decided to take the opportunity to say hello and catch up. I sent her two emails, and much like my previous advances, I received no response. Rejected again.

Yesterday I was watching Home and Garden Television (I just recently discovered other channels on our TV besides ESPN and MTV) and saw a commercial featuring their new correspondent Heather Armstrong, my tutor, who is obviously continuing to do well for herself. I immediately went to the HGTV website to find out about her new role, and that she now has 1.6 million followers on Twitter (I have 24), and she now has 7,046 fans on her Facebook fan page (we have 340). I am pleased with her success and wish her well.

If you haven’t read her blog you should. Maybe in between reading the 500 comments that her blog gets each day she will catch word of this post and contact me.

In the meantime I’ll be reading the 10-15 emails I get from Paul each day and refreshing my email inbox every three minutes until I hear from her. What else do I have to do? Oh yeah, finish this blog post, watch Sponge Bob Square Pants with my three kids, and pretend like I’m listening intently to my wife all while clicking on the check mail button every three minutes. I deal well with rejection.

Okay, I’m off the couch. When you are working in the field of interpretive design you have to get used to being rejected from time to time. Even the day before yesterday, I received a comment that a certain element of a logo that I was working on was “inventive, though the genius of that decision will likely not be appreciated until long after your death.” The really sad part was that comment was from Paul.

Let’s face it, in most cases gaining approval or receiving a review is a painful process. We are the designers/creators and we know what’s best, right? We don’t want a bunch of wannabes/control-freaks/know-it-alls telling us what our work should look like, right? If I want to eat cereal for dinner and feed it to my children I can do it, right? Whether we are dealing with a logo or a new program as an interpretive designer, we put ourselves out there for interpretation. When you put your heart and soul into your work it can be difficult when it gets shot down or torn apart by folks who are less connected to the process. It can hurt.

So what can you and I do about it? Above all else make sure you can articulate your decisions. It is easy to be critical of something that has nothing backing it up. If you chose a typeface or PowerPoint background that gets challenged or ripped, make sure that you have a reason for choosing it and that you can clearly explain why you chose it and how it is connected to the overall theme and program. If you respond to a question or comment about your decision and you respond with “I thought it looked pretty” be prepared to be ripped. If you respond by saying “I carefully considered the use of a light gray sans serif type to be easily read on the screen when projected against the background that includes hues from the natural environment” you may have more solid ground to stand on. For many, the decisions we make are good and are intuitive but we don’t think about how we would defend our choices if asked. Be prepared to make your case and convince others of what you did. It will also help you make better choices.

You should be prepared with alternatives. This is my favorite approach. You have to realize that people look at things differently based on what prior knowledge that they bring to the table. With this mind you should have options that may appeal to multiple approaches and styles. I am also one of those who likes to include a “sleeper.” This doesn’t involve the use of any animal tranquilizers.

If I email out a proof for review or comments, I don’t give away which one I like the best and I never provide it as the lead option. That way when those reviewing the item see it, you can get honest feedback from them, and it allows them to discover the best option, that you created and intended for them to like in the first place. With that being said, you shouldn’t provide the sabotage approach by providing one great version and two alternative versions that look like Screech created them. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Saved by the Bell is just good television.

Get to know your boundaries. Most of us have to answer to someone. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have a boss. That doesn’t mean you have to sell yourself out trying to make someone happy. When working through the creative process know what elements are important to you and which are less important. This will help you keep an open mind to suggestions or changes along with keeping you focused on the end goal, completion.

Has it been three minutes? I’ve got to go check my email.

For those that came here today looking for that Valentine’s Day post highlighting a cutesy design-related item for your sweetie, check out Acme Heartmaker where you can design you own custom message on the well-known Valentine’s Day heart candies. Custom candies can be ordered as well, but since Valentine’s Day is just three days away you may not have time to place an order. But you can create a digital version that you can edit, cut, and paste. Here are a few examples that I would avoid.

Before I get accused of being insenstive…PMS stands for Pantone Matching System.

It’s a tradition as old as singer Rick Astley: Graphic designers huddle in libraries and coffee shops (anywhere that a newspaper might have accidentally fallen open to the sports page) and snicker at how hideous that year’s Super Bowl logo is. Then we sniffle and wish that someone would pay us what the Super Bowl logo designers got paid.

First a note about the Super Bowl, Roman numerals, and years: Each year, the Super Bowl determines the champion of the season that started the previous September. Because the bulk of the regular season and the playoffs are played in different calendar years, the NFL opts to use Roman numerals, which no one can read anyway, to identify its championship game. So, for instance, when the Saints beat the Colts in Super Bowl XLIV yesterday (in the year 2010, for our visitors from the future), the game determined the champion of the 2009 NFL season.

When the first Super Bowl was played in 1967, the logo was designed by the commissioner’s 9-year-old nephew on an Etch A Sketch* because Microsoft WordArt had not yet been invented. Since then, the Super Bowl logo has evolved considerably to include bold Roman numerals, bold beer-bottle-inspired composition, and bold color palettes of blue and some warm color (except Super Bowl XXVIII in 1994, when by law all sports-related graphic design featured teal and purple).

Some logos have included elements that speak to the location of the event, like Super Bowl XXI, played at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, California; Super Bowl XXXVII, which includes San Diego’s Point Loma lighthouse; and Super Bowl XLII, which features the shape of the state of Arizona. Some evoke a sense of place through color, like the tropical-feeling blue and orange of Super Bowl XLI in Miami.

You can see every Super Bowl logo at www.sportslogos.net/team.php?id=593. It’s interesting to see them all in one place, as they reflect a change in design sensibilities and capabilities over the decades, from the simple, type-based logos of the early years to the complex recent iterations, clearly generated on computers. My favorite is Super Bowl XIII, played in 1979, which I believe is an homage not only to the country’s biggest sporting event, but also to the advent of the dot matrix printer.

I’m interested to see what happens in 2016, when the Roman numeral for the 50th Super Bowl will be, simply, the letter L. I’m hoping the logo will be a big, bold Helvetica L, preferably in black.

*Not really. The commissioner’s nephew was probably 12 or 13.

As you can see from the title of this week’s post, I didn’t apply my creative side to come up with a jazzy title. I don’t know if that is because I’m a non-creative person or just lazy. I have been torn between the Australian Open (a nice alternative to baseball, T-minus 59 days until opening day), episodes of American Idol (bad singing makes great television) and Teen Mom (don’t knock it until you watch it). I did knock around the idea of calling it The Creative: Part Deux, The Creative: The Sequel or The Creative: Episode II – Attack of the Dorks (plural to include Paul, otherwise it seemed a little sad calling myself a dork).

Last week in the comments section of the Creative: Part 1 friend of IBD, Amy Ford (also known as Ranger Amy), blew my mind with large words like thermodynamics. That was the first time that word had been used on IBD and for the record no other fourteen-letter words have ever been used on IBD. The only word with that kind of letter count was the word parliamentarian in the post No Paper Airplanes. I have to agree with her comment that appealed to my left-brained creative side. I tend to work best in collaborative efforts with people who are right-brained creatives that bring the best out of my logical approach. I see myself better at transforming than creating.

When faced with transforming, problem solving or creating, I try to start by exercising the right side of my brain by brainstorming. Most of us have taken part in a brainstorming session at some point in our lives. This generating of ideas, good or bad, without any judgment can begin the processes of opening your right brain. Brainstorming leads to free thinking. If you are too busy thinking that one idea is too expensive, will never be approved, or is over the top, you miss the opportunity to create an idea that may work.

Brainstorming often works best in a location outside of your norm or comfort zone. If you work in an office all day, behind the same old desk, staring at the computer, it is hard to break your normal thought processes. Find a “happy place,” so to speak, where you cannot be distracted by your normal day-to-day operations, but a place where you can freely think and generate ideas. It does work. My happy place happens to be working in my office, behind the same old desk, staring at the computer. This doesn’t put my wife in her happy place.

The next thing you can do is daydream. Let your mind go places that are separate from reality. Despite what you have been told your entire life, daydreaming is good for your creative side and to exercise the right side of your brain. Some of the most creative in the history of the world were classic daydreamers, including famous film makers, composers, artists and mathematicians. One approach to creating ideas in daydreaming is by role playing. No costumes are needed. In your mind play the role of someone that may have an interesting approach to the problem you are trying to solve and think about how they would approach it. You can use well-known designers, artists, actors, directors or anyone you deem appropriate to problem solve. I often find myself daydreaming about what various Star Wars characters would do to solve problems.

The Darth Vader approach to problem solving is valid. I tend to get the best ideas while daydreaming when driving. Unless your happy place involves the police and a citation (which could be part of the role-playing approach), take caution before employing this approach. Find the best place for you to daydream. It will lead to ideas.

After you collect ideas, good and bad ones, then you can allow the left brain to come back into play by helping edit the ideas. Just don’t let this process sneak into the brainstorming session, it will ruin it. Kenneth H. Gordon, Jr. said “To be creative, relax and let your mind go to work, otherwise the result is either a copy of something you did before or reads like an army manual.” You must exercise the right side.

Becoming creative or using your creative muscles is a process. Research has proven through the years that regardless of the individual approach to creativity that a formula is evident in each approach that is a means to an end. Everyone’s creative approach begins with some form of research that leads to idea development which leads to choosing an appropriate idea then improving on that idea and finally seeing it through to completion. When you are going through this process don’t forget to allow time for diagnosing, strategizing, incubating and nurturing elements of the process.

Leaders and managers should foster creativity in interpretive efforts and allow those developing programs, tours, publications, websites and brochures to develop their own personal creative process. Every year at NAI‘s National Workshop you can see a creativity explosion. Ideas are generated, regardless of physical location, by the supportive interpretive community mindset found during the workshop. Managers should support attendance at these types of training events for their creative force and by simply allowing daydreaming at work. Leaders should also be aware not to crush the inexperienced creator. Just because you have been there and done that, doesn‘t mean that those under you wouldn’t gain from that experience themselves or have an approach that you didn’t attempt. Don’t forget what Anna Freud (the sixth and last child of Sigmund and Martha Freud and groundbreaking Psychologist in her own right) said, “Creative minds always have been known to survive any kind of bad training.”

Since I am currently in my happy place, I should return to reality. I really have no other place to go before my wife employs the Darth Vader approach to problem solving and chokes me with the Force from across the room.

So there I was, sitting on my sofa, watching football and drinking beer (or maybe I was watching Golden Girls and drinking apple juice, I can’t really remember). I recall thinking, “I wish the freaking Eagles could score just once!” (or possibly, “Oh, Rose, you’ll never learn!”) and this commercial came on:

It stopped me in my tracks. I was shocked, not by the truck, but to see type used so interestingly in a purely commercial venture. I’m not a truck commercial sort of guy, but I always watch this one, purely for its visual aesthetic.

Moving type is not new, dating back as far as cinema itself, but a specific vernacular of moving type, commonly called dynamic typography, has sprung up in the last four or five years. It usually involves slab-serif or sans serif all-caps type appearing in exact synchronicity with spoken words. The words on screen fit together like puzzle pieces, with quick pans, rotations, and zooms. Frequently, words on screen will reflect their meaning through movement (e.g., if the word is “fall,” the word will actually fall off the screen).

I think that the music video below, “Ya no sé qué hacer conmigo,” which my wife tells me translates to “Would you please shut off your stupid computer and come help with the dishes,” is a visual masterpiece. It was made in 2007, when this particular brand of dynamic typography was relatively new.

A quick search of dynamic typography on YouTube will turn up countless student projects that set type to music or movie quotes in this style. Here’s an example from student Linzi Bergmann, set to audio from the movie Zoolander:

While I really enjoy this style visually, the interesting thing about this type of moving typography is that it directly violates one of the tenets of good visual communication. Any presentation expert will tell you not to read the words on screen, that it’s redundant to visually represent words that exactly replicate what is being spoken. I look forward to the growth of this movement, when these beautiful and intricate typographic treatments are more than just visual reinforcements, but rather add their own element to messages.

I don’t consider myself a very creative person. I can prove this based on the simple fact that through my career, as an interpreter and now interpretive manager, all of the interpretive programs I have ever created have had the worst titles in the history of interpretation and in most cases included a colon. I have always been envious of those interpreters who create cute, funny, and snazzy program titles to go along with their hikes, audio-visual presentations, and demonstrations. All the while my The Great Mississippi Flyway: Birds of Eastern Arkansas title remains in mourning. When I visit interpretive sites I try to pick up program advertisement sheets to swipe titles from and use at my park. Does that make me a bad person? Only when I pulled the program advertisements off a bulletin board, I guess.

Most people assume that if you are involved in interpretive design that you are automatically considered a “creative” or “artistic” type. I appreciate being incorporated into a group that may be considered creative, or any group for that matter. It was Mattias Konradsson who said, “Creativity and ideas don’t come on command, they seem to spring up when we least expect it — like a rod of lightning bending our mind in unexpected directions, showing us the way.” Much like Konradsson wrote, creativity strikes me at strange moments and is very mood dependent. I have to be in the right mindset to be creative. More and more I find looming deadlines creating the mood for me, so much for walks on the beach, candles, and soft music.

So why is it that we put the creative on such a pedestal? I think emotions play a large role in this idolizing. Many creative people, especially those well known for their creativity, put a large amount of their own emotions into their work. They show us a window inside their world that many of us are afraid to open. By us I mean me. By connecting emotionally to what they have to share, we respond to their feelings or emotions with our own feelings and emotions. So in some way we can relate to the creative on a different level. Modern Russian-Jewish artist Marc Chagall poured his heart and soul into his work and said, “If I create from the heart, nearly everything works; if from the head almost nothing.”

Many of us have stumbling blocks placed before us put there by our own subconscious. I call these my filters. We are afraid to pour our hearts into every project we are working on to eventually have it exposed for interpretation by the world. Again by we, I mean me.

The creative process is an individual process that is as different from person to person as personalities. For some the creative juices simply ooze from all of their systems. I tend to ooze cholesterol. For others, to find any creative juice they have to be run through the ringer. What needs to be remembered is that even for the most creative, creativity is a process and anyone has the potential to be a creative person. Psychologist and president of Princeton Creative Research Eugene Raudsepp said, “If you want to develop your creativity, establish regular work habits. Allow time for the incubation of ideas, and adhere to your individual rhythm. Violations of this rhythm can retard your creative efficiency.”

If that approach to the process is too militaristic or systematic for you perhaps the late 19th-century French painter Raoul Dufy’s words will speak to you: “I don’t follow any system. All the laws you can lay down are only so many props to be cast aside when the hour of creation arrives.” (Pictured here is a 1934 Dufy painting titled “Regatta at Cowes.”) As mentioned before, as different from person to person as personalities.

The one area where I feel like the creative process and my path cross is in the area of problem solving. The creative are known as skilled problem solvers and organizers. I tend to be one of those left-brained persons, but by drawing conclusions from data that doesn’t meld, the creative are excited by the process of solving problems. Okay, so only Paul gets excited by this.

Perhaps Roger Sperry was on to something when he developed the Modes of Thinking also know as Divisions of the Right and Left Brain. According to Sperry the left side of the brain is the responsible side that processes things logically, in sequential order, is rational, analytical, objective, and looks at parts instead of wholes. The right side of the brain is the creative side that looks at things randomly, intuitively, holistically, synthesizes, is subjective, and looks at wholes instead of parts. This research points out that the creative are definitely more right-brained people. Knowing this, the left-brained person is not unable to be creative. They just have to work harder at it. The left brain is concerned with logical thinking, analysis, and accuracy, while the right focuses on aesthetics, feeling, and creativity. Those like me who are responsible for creative work, that tend to be more left than right, must learn to think on the right. It can be difficult but even marathon runners must first begin running one mile at time by placing one foot in front of the other. The problem for me is that I’m a really slow runner.

Next week, in Creativity: Part 2, I will take on some practices to improve creativity and try to apply them to the title of the post.