This picture is brought to you today by Pam Tooley from Texas, whose friend took it in Florida. I’m going to keep my slow child (who will remain nameless) away from this intersection.
According to the Convention and Visitors Bureau in Fort Collins, Colorado, the top two reasons tourists visit the town are its proximity to nature and its beer. The New Belgium Brewing Company, which I bike past twice a day on my way to and from work, is the most popular local brewery—its signature product, Fat Tire Amber Ale, can be found in 26 states. Not only does New Belgium craft good beer, but it is a prominent member of the Fort Collins community. It’s a model of environmentally friendly practices and is consistently ranked among the top places to work in surveys like this one in Outside Magazine.
The brewery offers a free tour that focuses very little on the actual beer-making process and very heavily on the company’s social and environmental ethics. I have taken the tour four times now, and each time it has done an amazing job of creating an emotional connection to the company and its product. (That may have something to do with the free samples included on the tour, which may explain why, after 90 minutes on my most-recent visit, I was hugging our guide and saying a little too loudly, “I love you, man!”)
If you live in Fort Collins, this bottle is a mainstay at parties—including every Fourth of July cookout that took place in the town yesterday. The bike on the label is an homage to a trip brewery founder and CEO Jeff Lebesch took through Belgium to learn about brewing this style of beer before he started the company. One of the perks the company offers to employees on their first anniversary is one of these cruiser bikes, and you see them all over town.
For 19 years, the labels for all of New Belgium’s beers have featured artwork by local artist Anne Fitch, including the Fat Tire bike pictured here. So it was something of a shock recently when New Belgium unveiled its Explore Series pictured below, which to my knowledge is the first time New Belgium’s labels have deviated from their familiar style. The series includes four beers, including the three pictured here and one more I’ll discuss below. All of New Belgium’s other beers continue to feature artwork by Anne Fitch.
On my most-recent visit to the brewery, I asked our guide about the new labels. He snarled and said, “We’re as happy about them as everyone else is,” which I took to be not very. When I asked if the same woman who did the artwork for all of the other labels designed these as well, our guide responded, “No, these were done on the computer,” as though someone at the company grabbed a computer monitor with both hands and shouted “Beer labels!” and this is what it spit out.
One of the four beers that now features the new label is Trippel Belgian Style Ale. The original label depicts three angelic, robe-clad women affectionately known as the “Trippel girls” (pictured above, left; the new look is on the right). New Belgium acknowledges the challenge it faces in rebranding this beer on its website with the following disclaimer:
We know you may be attached to the Trippel girls (who isn’t!?) or that Abbey holds a sacred place in your heart, so rest assured that while the packaging has changed, the well-loved liquid remains true. Our hope is that you’ll celebrate with us as we set out to Explore new beers and get reacquainted with old friends.
According to spokesperson Bryan Simpson, the decision to create the new look was made because the first beer in the Explore series, the Ranger IPA, is different enough from others crafted by New Belgium that it deserved a different visual treatment. The three other beers in the series were rebranded with the new look because they are a bit more adventurous than the company’s mainstays, designed for that beer fan looking for what Bryan describes as that “next level” of the craft brew experience.
From a pure design perspective, I like the new labels. They’re consistent and clean and instantly recognizable. Plus, the beer tastes the same as it did before. But there’s a strong emotional attachment to the illustrative labels New Belgium fans are accustomed to, and the new look for these selected beers is a decided departure—a surprisingly conservative look for a company that is known to push the envelope visually. New Belgium has an uphill battle on its hands in this rebranding effort. (I ran into the same thing in designing a new logo for the National Association for Interpretation in 2007, and still run into people who have an emotional connection to the logo NAI used for 20 years.)
I’ve always enjoyed the visual aesthetic New Belgium uses in its advertising and on its website, which to me evokes an early 20th-century circus. The company’s advertisements are frequently photographs of real, three-dimensional shadow boxes that they keep on the walls of the brewery.
At the end of the tour, visitors enjoy their final samples in a tasting room that includes a life-size version of an advertisement that appeared on the back of Rolling Stone magazine, among other publications. The ad is pictured above on the left, while on the right, NAI members Kelli English and Kevin Damstra pose on the version found in the tasting room.
One of the subthemes you’ll hear if you take the tour of New Belgium is that experimentation is encouraged, even if it results in failure. The company originated, as many do, with a leap of faith and massive debt. Today, the Lips of Faith series of beers is the result of creative recipes devised by brewery employees, and the Follow Your Folly program encourages creative input on all sorts of content matter from the community. (Seriously, go check out the Follow Your Folly website. It’s one of my favorites.)
This new branding effort from New Belgium looks to be another experiment from an interesting company—one that balances the risks of tinkering with the visual presentation of a product whose look and feel are well known and widely liked with the benefits of continually innovating and refusing to stagnate.
And now I’m thirsty.
If you are reading this on the day it is posted, I am in Australia and it is the day before the annual NAI International Conference. I am in a time zone 16 hours ahead of my home in Colorado (if you’re in Colorado and it’s after 8:00 a.m., it’s tomorrow for me) and I just (legally) drove on the left side of a two-way street for the first time yesterday. I haven’t used a toilet here yet because I heard that the water goes the opposite direction than what I’m accustomed to, and I don’t want to be around toilet water that flushes up instead of down.
The morning of our departure, I awoke to the voice of my six-year-old son Joel singing “It’s a Small World,” the refrain of one of the signature rides at Disney World. It features about 400 animatronic dolls representing different countries and cultures uniting as one to get that song stuck in your head. Suddenly, Joel stopped singing and in a raised voice, exclaimed, “Are you serious? It’s not a small world, it’s a giant world. We’re going to the other side of the world and it’s going to take three airplanes and two nights, SO YOU BABIES ARE WRONG!”
I think Joel’s right. Those Small World babies are wrong. Sure, some amazing advances in technology have facilitated instantaneous communication worldwide. In preparation for the NAI International Conference, I frequently had email conversations at the end of my work day in Colorado with people just starting the next day in Australia. There was half a planet covered in nighttime between us and we were chatting about the weather and who’s going to win the Australian “footy” championship. (Not really. I know nothing about the Australian Football League beyond the fact that the mascot of the Sydney team is the Swans.)
But even as technology increases our ability to communicate and spread communicable diseases, the world remains an enormous place. I think no matter what your profession, you gain perspective by visiting new places, getting out of your comfort zone, and trying to see the world from someone else’s point of view. And there are so many ways to accomplish this.
To Joel’s point, it’s a giant world after all. Sure, the world has gotten smaller metaphorically, but it remains literally a giant place. There’s so much out there to see and do. In communication-based professions like graphic design and heritage interpretation, it may not be enough to ask, How would someone across the street, across town, across the state, or on the other side of the planet react to this project? It may require packing a bag and going somewhere new. It’s hard to put yourself in someone else’s shoes if you don’t know what size they wear. (Either that’s really deep or I am more jetlagged than I think.)
Granted, it’s not always feasible to jet around the planet at will, but any opportunity to break out of your comfort zone is worthwhile and will enhance your perspective. Talk to a stranger on the bus. Eat at a restaurant on the other side of town. Wear a Mets hat (actually, scratch that one). Go somewhere you’ve never been and interact with as many people as you can.
As I adjust to autumn in April, spelling center as centre, and trying not to clip the sideview mirrors off the cars parked along the streets of Queensland, Australia, I may not fully appreciate the full value of the experience while it’s happening. But it is my belief that any experience that broadens my worldview—that helps me appreciate a perspective other than my own—is one that will help me grow as a professional communicator.
And now I have that song stuck in my head.