Design Elements

A VISUAL COMMUNICATION MANUAL

Understanding the rules and knowing

when to break them

TIMOTHY SAMARA

THIRD EDITION
 Contents
What Is Graphic Design?
Twenty Rules for Making Good Design
FORM AND SPACE
DEFINING VISUAL LANGUAGE
ATTRIBUTES OF FORM
PUTTING STUFF INTO SPACE
COMPOSITIONAL STRATEGIES

COLOR FUNDAMENTALS
THE IDENTITY OF COLOR
CHROMATIC INTERACTION
COLOR LOGIC AND SYSTEMS
WHEN COLOR MEANS SOMETHING
COLOR IN THE REAL WORLD

CHOOSING AND USING TYPE

STRUCTURE AND OPTICS
ISSUES RELATED TO STYLE
THE MECHANICS OF TEXTSETTING
TYPE IS VISUAL, TOO
TYPE AS INFORMATION

THE WORLD OF IMAGERY

THE NATURE OF IMAGES
MEDIA AND METHODS
CONTENT, CONCEPT, CONTEXT
NARRATIVE MASSAGE

PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER

MERGING TYPE AND IMAGE
WORKING WITH GRIDS
INTUITIVE ARRANGEMENT
DESIGN AS A SYSTEM
 THE WORKING PROCESS

Causin’ Some Trouble: Breaking Every Rule in This Book

Index (By Subject)

Directory of Contributors

About the Author

Acknowledgments
What Is Graphic Design?
A graphic designer is a communicator: someone who takes ideas and
gives them visual form so that others can understand them. The designer
uses imagery, symbols, type, color, and materials (whether printed or on
screen) to represent the ideas that must be conveyed; and to organize them
into a unified experience that is intended to evoke a particular response.
——
While more or less confined to the creation of typefaces and books from the
Middle Ages until the Industrial Revolution of the late 1700s and early
1800s, design expanded into advertising, periodicals, signage, posters,
pamphlets, and ephemera with the appearance of a new consumer
marketplace. The term “graphic design” itself appeared more recently
(attributed to WA Dwiggins, an American illustrator and book designer, in
1922, to describe his particular activities). The formal study of design didn’t
come about until the 1920s, and the term entered into wide usage only after
World War II.
——
In contrast to other disciplines in the visual arts, graphic design’s purpose is
typically defined by a client—it’s a service paid for by a company or other
organization—rather than from within the designer. Although artistic
creation historically had been commissioned by patrons, it wasn’t until the
1830s that the mystique of the bohemian painter as “expresser of self” arose
and, consequently, a marked distinction between fine and commercial art.
Designers encouraged this distinction for philosophical, as well as strategic,
reasons, especially as they began to seek recognition for design as a
profession that could add tremendous value to corporate endeavors.
——
In the fifty-odd years since, the graphic designer has been touted as
everything from visual strategist to cultural arbiter (and, since the late
1970s, as an author as well), shaping not only the corporate bottom line
through clever visual manipulation of a brand-hungry public, but also the
larger visual language of the contemporary environment. All these functions
are important to graphic design…but, lest we forget the simplicity of the
designer’s true nature, let us return to what a graphic designer does. A
graphic designer assimilates verbal concepts and gives them form. This
“form-giving” is a discipline that integrates an enormous amount of
knowledge and skill with intuition, creatively applied in different ways as
the designer confronts the variables of each new project.
——
A designer must understand semiotics—the processes and relationships
inherent in perception and interpretation of meaning through visual and
verbal material. He or she must have expertise in the flow of information—
instructional strategies, data representation, legibility, usability, cognitive
ordering, and hierarchic problem solving—extending into typography, the
mechanics of alphabet design, and reading. Designing requires analytical
and technical mastery of image making—how shapes, colors, and textures
work to depict ideas, achieve aesthetic cohesion and dynamism, and signify
higher-order concepts while evoking a strong emotional response. Further, a
designer must be more than casually familiar with psychology and history,
both with respect to cultural narratives, symbolism, and ritualized
experiences, as well as to more commercial, consumer-based impulses and
responses (what is often referred to as “marketing”). Last, but certainly not
least, a designer must have great facility with (and often, in-depth,
specialized knowledge of) multiple technologies needed to implement the
designed solution: printing media and techniques, film and video, digital
coding, industrial processes, architectural fabrication, and so on.
But graphic design is greater than just the various aspects that comprise it.
Together, they establish a totality of tangible, and often intangible,
experiences. A designer is responsible for the intellectual and emotional
vitality of the experience he or she visits upon the audience, and his or her
task is to elevate it above the banality of literal transmission or the
confusing self-indulgent egoism of mere eye candy. And yet, beauty is a
function, after all, of any relevant visual message. Just as prose can be dull
or straightforward or well edited and lyrical, so too can a utilitarian object
be designed to be more than just simply what it is. “If function is important
to the intellect,” writes respected Swiss designer Willi Kunz, in his book,
Typography: Macro- and Micro-Aesthetics, “then form is important to the
emotions…Our day-to-day life is enriched or degraded by our
environment.”
——
The focus of this book is on these formal, or visual, aspects of graphic
design and, implicitly, their relevance for the messages to be created using
them. It’s a kind of user manual for creating what is understood to be strong
design and empowering readers to effectively—and skillfully—harness
their creativity to meet the various challenges that designers encounter
every day.

Graphic design is a complex combination of words and pictures,

numbers and charts, photographs and illustrations…A popular art and
a practical art, an applied art and an ancient art. Simply put, it is the
art of visualizing ideas… But it is also an idiomatic language, a
language of cues and puns and symbols and allusions, of cultural
references and perceptual inferences that challenge both the intellect
and the eye.
JESSICA HELFAND / Designer, writer, theorist / Cofounder, DesignObserver.com
Images, above & below

FOR THE PEOPLE / TASMANIA

LABORATÓRIO SECRETO / BRAZIL
CLASSMATE STUDIO / HUNGARY
B&B STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM
TWENTY RULES FOR MAKING GOOD DESIGN

Rules can be broken—but never ignored.

DAVID JURY/TYPOGRAPHER/ From his book About Face: Reviving the Rules of Typography
RotoVision, London, 1996.

When people talk about “good” or “bad” design, they’re referring to

notions of quality they’ve picked up from education and experience;
and just as often, from the experience of thousands of designers and
critics before them. Some of these notions are aesthetic (“asymmetry is
more beautiful than symmetry,” for example) and sometimes strictly
functional (“don’t reverse a serif typeface from a solid background if
it’s less than 10 points in size, because it’ll fill in”). Both kinds of
observation are helpful for avoiding pitfalls and striving to achieve
design solutions that aren’t hampered by irritating difficulties.
——
Every time one attempts to cite rules governing what constitutes
quality, however, people are bound to get their underwear in a knot:
“That’s so limiting!” To those people, I’ll say this: get over it. Rules are
guidelines, based on accumulated experience from many sources. They
always come with exceptions and can be broken at any time, but not
without consequences. The consequence of breaking one rule might
mean reinforcing another; in the right context, it might even mean true
innovation—in which such a discovery, oddly enough, will establish yet
another rule. This is how creativity works. It’s important to know
which rules have come to be considered important (and why) so as to
avoid really unfortunate results by breaking them out of ignorance. In
addition, rules help frame communal discussion about interpreting and
evaluating creative work so there’s at least some consensus about where
to start. If everything is “good,” then nothing really can be. Relativism
is great, but after a point, it just gets in the way of honest judgment and
celebrates mediocrity.
——
By no means should any rule, including those that follow, be taken as
cosmic law. Unconvinced? Then simply turn to here, where breaking
every rule in this book is advocated wholeheartedly. But these rules are
a starting point: an excellent list of issues to consider, especially if
you’re only just starting out as a designer. (Even seasoned professionals
can do with a little refresher now and then.) In the end, you will decide
how and when to apply the rules, or not…But you’ll also understand
the likely results of either course of action.
 01
HAVE A CONCEPT

If there’s no message, no story, no idea, no narrative, or no useful

experience to be had, it’s not graphic design. It doesn’t matter how
amazing the thing is to look at; without a clear message, it’s an empty,
although beautiful, shell. That’s about as complicated as this rule can
get. Let’s move on.
By printing the text to appear as though itʼs on the back of the poster (top) but folded
forward, the designer transforms the literal into a metaphor for the architectural and
gestural qualities of the dance it promotes. An exhibition about designers and architects
Ray and Charles Eames (bottom) is built with gigantic, interlocking puzzle pieces that
were fundamental to their philosophies and how they constructed their home in the
1950s.
SULKI+MIN / SOUTH KOREA ↑
PEOPLEDESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓
 02
COMMUNICATE—DON’T DECORATE

Oooh…neat! But what exactly is it? Form carries meaning, no matter

how simple or abstract, and form that’s not right for a given message
junks it up and confuses. It’s great to experiment with images and
effects, but anything that doesn’t contribute to the composition or
meaning is simply eye candy that no longer qualifies as design. Know
what each visual element does and why, or choose another with
purpose.

The notion of “blooming” underpins a publication of graduating students’ design work;

unique abstract ink washes create the sense of unfurling flower petals without being literal.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
 03
BE UNIVERSAL

A very large audience, not a few people who are “in the know,” must
interpret what you mean with those shapes, colors, and images. Sure,
you get it, and other designers will get it, but ultimately it’s the public
who must do so. Speak to the world at large; draw upon humanity’s
shared narratives of form and metaphor and make connections, not
boundaries. If you’re unsure whether your ideas make sense, show
them to someone on the street and find out.
What viewers might initially perceive as random graphic lines immediately transform into
prison bars because of the presence of the butterfly: it’s a powerful, commonly understood
symbol for transformation and freedom. Even before viewers have a chance to see the word
“prison” in the text at the bottom of this poster, they will have processed this pictorial
information and used it as a context to arrive at the intended meaning of the lines.
LSD SPACE / SPAIN
 04
SPEAK WITH ONE VISUAL VOICE

Make sure all the elements “talk” to each other. Good design assumes
the visual language of a piece—its internal logic—is resolved so that its
parts all reinforce each other, not only in shape or weight or
placement, but conceptually as well. When one element seems out of
place or unrelated, it disconnects from the totality and the message is
weakened.

In this set of exhibition collateral, a specific visual language of silhouetted images—all

similarly geometric in their shapes, monochromatically colored, and transparent—
responds to the type’s symmetrical axis with a rhythmic le -to-right positioning. Stroke
contrast and graphic details in the serif type unify with the imagery’s ornate internal
details, while contrasting with its planar quality.
GOLDEN COSMOS / GERMANY
 05
LEARN TO LIVE WITH LESS

This is a riff on the “less is more” theory, not so much an aesthetic

dogma now as it is a bit of common sense: the more stuff jammed into
a given space, the harder it is to see what needs to be seen. There’s a
big difference between “complicated” and “complex.” True power lies
in creativity applied to very little—without sacrificing a rich
experience. Adding more than needed is just “gilding the lily.”
Exquisite, decisive control of the minimal elements, alignments, and the spaces around and
between them creates a dynamic, almost architectural space that is active and three-
dimensional, which is all you really need for a brochure for a contemporary architecture
firm.
LSD SPACE / SPAIN
 06
CREATE SPACE—DON’T FILL IT

Negative (or "white") space is critical to good design. It calls attention

to content and gives the eyes a resting place. Negative space is just as
much a shape in a layout as any other thing. Carve it out and relate it
to other elements. A lack of negative space overwhelms an audience,
and the result is an oppressive presentation that no one will want to
deal with.

From within a confined space enclosed by the visual angles created by headline and body
text, hands stretch outward to release a symbolic butterfly; the image’s message is restated
subtly by the compositional space with which it interacts.
LOEWY / UNITED KINGDOM
 07
GIVE ’EM THE ONE-TWO PUNCH

Focus viewers’ attention on one important thing first—a big shape, a

startling image or type treatment, or a daring color—and then lead
them to the less important items in a logical way. This is establishing a
“hierarchy”—the order in which you want them to look at the material
—and it is essential for access and understanding. Without it, you’ve
already lost the battle.
There’s no way to avoid looking at the giant red hand in this poster before focusing on
anything else—despite a fair amount of dramatic, supporting visual activity (the fireworks
and the dynamically rotated type elements). As explosive and rhythmic as these latter forms
are, their visual presence pales in comparison to the overall size, boldness, and color
contrast the designer has applied to the hand so that it’s the thing that first draws the viewer
in—and shows them where to start looking.
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES
 08
BEWARE OF SYMMETRY

As in nature, symmetry can be quite effective, but approach it with

extreme caution. Symmetrical layouts easily become static and flat,
and they severely limit flexibility in arranging content that doesn’t
quite fit the symmetrical mold. Symmetry also is o en perceived as
traditional (not always relevant) and may suggest the designer is lazy
and uninventive—as though the format has directed how the material
will be arranged.

While the designers of this book, which organizes text and headings relative to both the
vertical and horizontal center axes of the pages, retained the appropriate gravitas needed
for its academic subject, they nonetheless also counteracted its potentially static quality
through the use of extreme scale contrast, transparency, and rotation of text elements.
STUDIO BLUE / UNITED STATES
 09
FIGHT THE FLATNESS

People make a weird assumption about two-dimensional visual stuff,

and that is: it’s flat (go figure)! Layouts that fail to impart a sense of
depth or movement—because everything is the same size, weight,
color, and perceived distance from everything else—are dull and life-
less. “Without contrast,” Paul Rand once said, “you’re dead.” Fool the
viewer into seeing deep space by exploiting changes in size and
transparency. Create differences in density and openness by clustering
some elements and pushing others apart. Apply color to forms such
that some appear to advance, while others recede. Engage viewers by
convincing them the flat surface they’re seeing is really a window into
a bigger dimensional world.

Decisively applied contrasts (in size, texture, tonal range, shape, and color) create optical
pushing and pulling between image and type elements in this web page—not only across the
surface, but in the perceived deep, illusory three-dimensional space they appear to occupy.
The large size and stark dark/light contrast of the hammer image cause it to advance; the
interior scene, because of its naturalistic depth, punches backwards in space like a window
or “hole” in the white surface. Type and graphical dots appear to occupy a generally middle
distance, but changes in their colors and gray values further vary perception of their
individual spatial locations.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
 10
PICK COLORS ON PURPOSE

Don’t just grab some colors from out of the air. Know what the colors
will do when you combine them and, more important, what they might
mean to the audience. Color carries an abundance of psychological and
emotional meaning that can vary tremendously between cultural
groups and even individuals. Color affects visual hierarchy, the
legibility of type, and how people make connections between disparate
items (sometimes called “color coding”), so choose wisely. Never
assume that a certain color is right for a particular job because of
convention either. Blue for financial services, for example, is the
standout color cliché of the past fi y years. Choose the right colors, not
those that are expected.
The poster, above, incorporates a symbolic combination of yellow-orange and black
(warning), covered by a rising field of blue to suggest flooding of locales. The olive oil
packaging at right evokes the product’s Italian origins with references to that country’s
green, red, and white flag.
STEREOTYPE DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↑
BRUKETA & ZINIC / CROATIA ↓
 11
LESS COLOR IS MORE

Color is very exciting but, much like a circus, too many things
happening at once with hue, value, and intensity prevents viewers
from recognizing a memorable color idea. Stick to a simple palette of
two or three hues and create rich relationships among their attributes
as the’re applied to different elements—by varying their relative
intensities and lightness or darkness. Find that you need a little
something extra? The unexpected contrast of an accent color, sparingly
applied, will do the trick. A lot can be accomplished even by exploiting
the tonal range of black alone; and using a single dramatic color, rather
than black, is a sure way of making a big impact.

Despite incorporating full-color photographic images, the designer of this brochure spread
carefully limited the color palette primarily to a set of closely related, cool greens, blues,
and violets. These analogous hues offer appreciablly interesting variation in temperature
and value while, at the same time, result in a clear, simple color statement. The designer
adds color contrast with a very small volume of yellow (violet’s complement) and the warm
tones of the hand. It’s just enough to prevent the cool colors from seeming monotonous
without impairing their immediate color impression.
TIEN-MIN LIAO / UNITED STATES
 12
MASTER THE DARK AND THE LIGHT

Tonal value is one of the most (if not the most) powerful tools
designers have at their disposal. Make sure to use a dramatic range of
dark and light; doing so enhances the illusion of deep space.
Furthermore, don’t kill the dark/light contrast by evenly spreading out
the tonal range all over the place. Distribute tone like firecrackers and
the rising Sun: Concentrate areas of extreme dark and light; create
bright explosions of luminosity and undercurrents of darkness.
Counter these with subtler transitions between related values. Make
distinctions in value noticeable and clear.
The use of color in this poster is only about value: shades and tints of a single hue. In one
way of thinking, this poster is essentiallystill black and white, as there is no true color
relationship to be found—for there to be a color relationship, more than one hue must be
present. Still, the dramatic-ally luminous and dimensional qualities of the typographic
forms, heightened through the use of light and dark, is optically compelling.
ARIANCE SPANIER DESIGN / GERMANY
 13
FRIENDLY TYPE IS GOOD TYPE

It should go without saying that type that can’t be read has no

purpose, but, unfortunately, it bears repeating. Yes, typography should
be expressive, visually inventive, and conceptually resonant. It must
still transmit information. Choose typefaces that aid legibility, watch
out for weird color contrasts, set text in a size that your grandmother
can read, and you should be good to go.

Well-drawn, neutral typefaces that distinguish navigational levels from content through
clear size, weight, and organizational relationships guarantee ease of use for visitors to this
website.
ATIPUS / SPAIN
 14
USE TWO FONTS, MAXIMUM

OK, maybe three. Choose typefaces for specific purposes; you’ll o en

find there are only two or three kinds of text in a project. Because a
change in typeface usually signals a change in function—restrain
yourself! A single type family with a variety of weights and italics can
be enough; a second is nice for contrast, but don’t overdo it. Too many
typefaces are distracting and self-conscious and might confuse or tire
the viewer.

Even the use of a single typeface family—here, a sans serif with a variety of weights—is
enough to create dynamic textural vitality. The strategy boils down to decisive choices for
the sizes of text elements and the combination of weights to maximize contrasts of dark and
light, while ensuring overall stylistic unity.
CONOR & DAVID / IRELAND
 15
TREAT TYPE AS YOU WOULD IMAGE

A great deal of typography o en fails in this regard: it’s either blandly

separated from images or insensitively slapped across them, under the
assumption that this alone will integrate it as part of a layout. Type is
visual material—made up of lines and dots and shapes and textures—
that must relate compositionally to everything else included in the
design, no matter how different they seem to be.

The title type in this poster promoting an orchestral performance becomes one with the
imagery—weaving into and out of the instrument forms; the letters’ dot-like serifs and
bowls in echoing their roundness, while their bold straight-strokes and geometric edges
contrast the delicate edges of the flower’s petals. At a secondary level, the text material that
delivers more concrete information restates the variety of tones, textures, and irregular
back-and-forth movement of the flower’s shapes; but it also adheres to a strong vertical axis
that relates to the center of the brass horn up above… which, incidentally, is standing in for
the O of “Bartok.”
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES
 16
AVOID REDUNDANT REDUNDANCIES

Be conscious of how much information is conveyed by a project’s text.

When you introduce imagery, you need not show the same
information. Instead, consider what the text isn’t telling the viewer and
show that (and, conversely, text should tell what the images don’t
show). The image and text, working in concert, should not only
complete each other but contribute to a new, deeper understanding. In
closing the gaps and making such leaps, the viewer becomes more
intensely engaged.
Rather than represent the subject of this exhibition poster—photography of birds—by
showing the exhibition’s work or by depicting the subject literally, the designer instead
chose a more conceptual approach. Given that the subject was explicit in both the
exhibition’s title and subtitle, the designer was free to develop a visual idea that leapt
beyond the expected and introduced a deeper, more conceptual message. The type forms,
cut from paper and scanned, create not only a photographic dimensionality, but a visual
association with legs, wings, feathers, tree branches, and wires—the environment that birds
and people share.
LESLEY MOORE / NETHERLANDS
 17
CREATE IMAGES—DON’T SCAVENGE

Make what you need, and make it the best you can—or pay someone to
do it for you and art-direct them. And remember: Not every idea
benefits from a full-color photographic depiction. Very o en, a more
original, and meaningful solution is no further away than a couple of
dots and lines, a simple, funky icon, or (gasp!) an abstract pattern or a
scribble. Your options are limitless; consider them all. Try not to rely on
what already exists, even though it might be cheaper or easier.
Inventing images from scratch—in whatever medium—will help better
differentiate your client’s message and connect powerfully with the
audience. Plus, you can say, quite proudly, that you did it all yourself.
You don’t need to draw like da Vinci to make great images; and you don't need to accept the
crappy image the client stuck you with. Experiment! You can reinvent even the most tired
found photo with so ware and create a new kind of visual experience that no one’s ever
seen.
FOR THE PEOPLE / TASMANIA ↑
FIASCO DESIGN / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
MUTABOR / GERMANY ↓↓
 18
LOOK TO HISTORY—DON’T REPEAT IT

It’s important to explore past approaches and aesthetics and to

understand one’s own work in context. More useful is the realization
that another designer faced a similar problem—and solved it. Go
ahead, be inspired! But, to slavishly reproduce a particular period style
because it’s cool hovers between plagiarism and laziness—not cool.
Learn from the work of others, but do your own work.

This cover for a reissued version of a significant art-movement text represents the energy
and irreverence of the period and its style without mimicking it; the same is true for the
poster at right, the style of which refers to design gestures of a particular time (relevant to
its subject) but reinterprets them with a contemporary sensibility.
MAREK OKON / CANADA ↑
C+G PARTNERS / UNITED STATES ↓
 19
IGNORE FASHION. SERIOUSLY

People in the present respond to what looks cool and “now.” Many
designers get significant attention for trendy work. Forget that. If you
design around meaning, not current stylistic conceits, your projects
will resonate more deeply, not get dated, and have impact far longer.
Nobody looks at the Pantheon, designed almost 2,000 years ago, and
says, “Ewww, that’s like, so first century.”

In the covers of these literary classics—part of a series—carefully cra ed illustrative icons

are arranged in symmetrical, wallpaper-like patterns and adorned with simple, small-scale
serif type—graphic gestures that aren’t in vogue (at the time of this edition). And yet, this
visual language seems somehow modern while being appropriate to the subject matters and
contexts of the books. By focusing on authentic messages and delivering them with sound,
well-formed type style and images, the designer ensures an exquisitely timeless quality that
transcends the fads of the moment.
CORALIE BICKFORD-SMITH / UNITED KINGDOM
 20
DO IT ON PURPOSE, OR NOT AT ALL

Place visual material with confidence, and make clear decisions using
your eyes—don’t measure. Make things look the way you intend. Form
elements o en play tricks on the eyes. For instance, a circle and a
square of the same mathematical size will not appear so. Which is
bigger? Do they touch or not? Which is darker? If you align two items by
measuring and they don’t look like they do, it doesn’t matter that
they’re really lined up. All the viewer will see is two items that look like
they should have aligned—but don’t. Decisiveness makes for a
convincing impression; ambiguity or insecurity in the composition
does the opposite. Convincing the audience that what you’re showing
them is true is the most important goal of all.
Dramatic spatial layering, tremendous scale contrasts, and continually changing tempo
impart this motion sequence with an almost hectic quality that belies the rigorous control
underpinning the visual relationships holding it all together. Enormous objects swing
toward each other as though about to collide, yet gracefully slide by one another within a
hair's breadth; rhythmically moving text elements lock similarly moving, nonpictorial
forms into elegantly structured alignment relationships.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
 FORM AND SPACE

There is no longer agreement anywhere about art itself, and

under these circumstances we must go back to the
beginning, to concern ourselves with dots and lines and
circles and the rest of it.
ARMIN HOFFMANN/Graphic designer and former director, Basel School of Design: 1946–1986

IN THIS CHAPTER:
DEFINING VISUAL LANGUAGE
Graphic designers work with type, of course, but more fundamentally, they convey ideas by using
shapes and pictures as “words,” arranging them into visual “sentences”—an optical language as
rich as that which writers create. This section introduces the vocabulary and principles of visual
expression.

ATTRIBUTES OF FORM
Say hello to dots, lines, and planes; and see, individually, how these basic elements underpin
other complex forms—patterns, images (pictorial and abstract), and even type. These are the
designer’s tool kit, so to speak, with which he or she will build every dynamic, meaningful visual
experience.

PUTTING STUFF INTO SPACE

Understanding the fundamental qualities of visual forms is one thing, but what do you do with
them—and how? This section outlines different ways of arranging elements, how they affect each
other, and how they interact to create visual structures and perceptions of movement and
rhythm.

COMPOSITIONAL STRATEGIES
Last—but by no means least—you’ll explore how more complicated relationships between form
syntax and behavioral grammar enhance viewers’ experience: adding contrast for visual interest;
creating balance and unity; and organizing a visual language’s elements in an understandable
totality.
 DEFINING VISUAL LANGUAGE

First Things First Exchanging ideas through speaking and writing is

familiar. Language works by naming ideas with sounds (words), ordered in
ways we’ve somehow agreed will mean something. Design certainly
involves writing (as type), but how it looks communicates as much as what
it says: the type’s font and the words’ arrangement into shapes themselves
convey ideas. That means purely visual material also works like written
language. Images, even just shapes, “name” ideas; and we “read” their
visual qualities and arrangement, their ordering, to understand “what to
know” about them. Like writing, a “visual language” relies on prior
knowledge. Sometimes, it literally shows things we have seen. At others, it
abstractly refers to experience by association (its visual qualities are like
something else). And like writers, designers know that the right visual
“words” identify relevant ideas; the right “grammar” (behavioral
relationships) tells how to think about them in that context. Unlike writers,
who draw from the same vocabulary and grammar for every subject,
designers invent a unique, specific, visual language for each subject they’ll
try to communicate in a given project.

The visual language of this billboard promoting a trombone festival refers to that
instrument’s parts: the line element in the type describes its shape and the way it’s used by
sliding, while the dot represents its bell. More abstractly, the dots—their sizes and
arrangements—call to mind musical structure and a sense of sound (louder or more quiet)
and rhythm, or tempo.
ORDER / UNITED STATES

As part of this event’s visual language, photographic form provides description and context,
as well as a sense of the experience of sailing in open water through a hazy, gray, lack of
contrast; color (also part of the language) plays a role in helping associate the graphic
shapes with nautical mapping, flags, and livery.
MUCHO / SPAIN
Simple, linear depictions of food and toys integrate literal and conceptual messages with the
playful barrage of graphical patterns—whose continually shi ing arrangement adds to the
casual, childlike quality of this branding for a fast-food restaurant. Applied across not only
packaging, seen here, but in advertising and interiors, the language creates continuity for
viewers as they encounter it at different times and in different contexts.
INFINITO / PERU
Syntax and Grammar A language comprises two aspects. The first is its
parts: its words or syntax. In a visual language, the syntax is form, the stuff
people see that identifies ideas or subjects: photos, drawings, geometric
shapes, type, and physical materials. No kind of form is necessarily better at
communicating a subject than any other, but the choice of a particular form
—and its visual qualities—is critical for conveying a specific idea. Many
kinds of form can communicate the same subject, and the reverse is also
true: Many ideas or subjects can be represented by the same form. Forms
don’t just exist independently. They do things with each other, exhibiting
particular behaviors, or grammar: clustering or dispersing, rising or falling,
moving in parallel or divergent directions. This is the other aspect of a
language that is crucial to understanding it. It’s the relationships between
forms that tell us what and how to think about them meaningfully: which
are more important; in what order they should be appreciated; how they
relate conceptually. On a purely visual level, the grammar of elements’
behavior helps unify the experience throughout a project.
The brain interprets the shapes we see by matching them to ones we already recognize from
experience: in short, if it looks like a duck, we understand it to be a duck…or a cloud, or a
coat button, or train tracks, or whatever else. Although more information is theoretically
better for certainty, we’re so good at identifying forms that only a bare minimum of
information is necessary—and that information can be very different, or abstracted, from
what that thing looks like in “real life.” Even completely nonpictorial forms (visual stuff that
doesn’t look like anything physical we’ve actually seen) will tell us plenty, simply because
they share qualities with things that do exist. We do a lot of comparing, too; the differences
between two or more forms in our field of vision helps us understand what each might be, or
mean, in relation to the other.
—
Without any context (which is critical for knowing what or how to think about the forms we
see), our brains will try to construct meaning based on the available information. The forms
shown above show a range of qualities whose specific syntax and grammar allow for the
construction of meaning. The more specific the syntax and grammar are, the more
recognizable and, so, the easier it is for us to make some kind of sense out of the visual
language—even though there’s no particular story we need to know. And, as you look at
each form language, consider how many different ideas or stories you could imagine about
each one.

Inventive use of a die-cut in this poster creates a surprising, inventive message about
structure and organic design. The spiraling strip that carries green type becomes a plant
tendril and a structural object in support of the poster’s message. The dimensional spiral,
along with its shadows, shares a linear quality with the printed type but contrasts its
horizontal and diagonal flatness.
STUDIO WORKS / UNITED STATES
Setting the Stage Forms do what they do somewhere, and that
“somewhere” is space. This term describes physical dimensionality; in
design it also refers to two-dimensional things like printed pages or
computer screens: “compositional space,” where forms will be “composed”
or “layed out.” Forms and their behaviors are clearly very important, but
space itself does a lot of important things. It allows viewers to separate and
appreciate forms; it moves their eyes through a layout; and it provides
places to pause while looking. Spaces that surround forms have their own
shapes and proportions; they act in concert with form as part of the visual
language’s grammar. Weirdly, when space is made to interact dynamically
with form, we perceive it three-dimensionally; designers use that perception
to encourage viewers to disengage from the real world. A composition that
appears to defy its real two-dimensionality is far more interesting than one
that appears flat. Don’t think of space as an empty void to fill up: Seeing
and understanding space as a thing—not just as a passive backdrop—is a
really difficult concept to grasp, but it’s absolutely critical.
A small format enhances the presence, or apparent mass, of an element; a larger format
decreases the presence of an element with the same physical size.
The shape of a space produces overall visual effects that will have a profound impact on the
perception of form interaction within it. A square format is neutral in emphasis—no side
exerts any more influence than any other. A vertical format is confrontational, creating an
upward and a downward thrust. A horizontal format produces a calmer, lateral movement
that is relatively inert compared to that of a vertical format.
The vertical format of the annual report (above) intensifies the human element as well as
the vertical movement of flowers upward; the sense of growth is expressed viscerally by the
upward thrust of the format. In contrast, the square format of this CD case (below)
emphasizes the modular arrangement of geometric shapes to reflect the work of its subject—
architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe.
COBRA / NORWAY ↑
THOMAS CSANO / CANADA ↓
Each element in this web page carves the background into shi ing horizontal spaces of
varied depth and contributes to a rhythmic lateral movement.
YOUJIN CHOI / UNITED STATES
Designers carefully consider the perceptual quality of a project's physical area and
proportion—its format—for its influence on a visual language (whether it unfolds, for
instance, or has more than one side). It's important to keep in mind that the same kinds of
graphic forms can occupy a space in numerous ways, as can be seen in the poster series at
top. The pages of a book (below) comprise a whole, but may also be conceived of as
individual spaces. The sides of the packaging just above permit the designer to create a
more expansive experience by continuing imagery from one side of the box to another.
HELMO / FRANCE ↑
JELENA DROBAC / SERBIA ↓
ANDREW GORKOVENKO / RUSSIA ↓↓
More o en than not, a project’s format is predetermined by a client, but designers still must
be familiar with the format options that are available for each kind of project—and able to
assess the potential and limitations that each offers. Many print formats, like that of the
envelope above, are standard; still, it helps to be aware that its flap is usable space. Most
electronic devices, like TVs or smartphones, constrain space within particular proportions:
motion graphics (next image) tend toward a 1980 × 1080 pixel format, but smartphone
display areas vary by brand—and demand attention to the size of elements, especially type.
Cylindrical packaging, like the coffee cup (image follows), nearly always force material
toward their centers so that it remains prominent and doesn't “fall away” around the sides;
and in this instance, the designer must account for what happens when the sleeve is added.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↑
JOHN LIKENS / UNITED STATES ↓
DIANO & CO. / SLOVENIA ↓↓
ANAGRAMA / MEXICO ↓↓↓
The Nature of Space The space of a composition, defined by its format, is
clearly finite (although a screen interface implies spaces beyond the
screen’s confines). Perceptual space, on the other hand, has to do with the
sensation of dimensionality. This illusory experience is a cognitive
invention triggered by optical stimuli (forms) in a composition—an
“otherworld” that appears to exist simultaneously with the outer world, but
only while looking at it through the “window” of the format. There are two
aspects that attend perceptual space: its spread, or apparent extent; and its
amplitude, or its relative perceived depth. The issue of spread closely
relates to the physical dimensions of a chosen format, and can be
acknowledged as either a field or a singularity. Space perceived as a field
appears to extend outward beyond the edges of the format that captures it,
part of a continuum. The perceptual space of a singularity exists
independently and is cognitively finite, a self-contained environment
distinct from the space around it. The quality of such a space is reflexive,
meaning that its illusory depth continually refers inward, rather than
outward.

A space in which form elements are completely contained within it typically appears to end
at its format’s boundaries: the space becomes a distinct unit of experience, a singularity,
that we’ll perceive as a kind of sum total (A). This perception tends to be even stronger when
forms overlap or cluster.
Conversely, a space in which form elements appear to enter and leave, or “bleed” the edges
of its format, suggests an extended environment—of which we’re seeing a given part
through a “window” (B). Our brains understand this expansive, environmental quality of
space as a field.

Singularities and fields alike can appear to be very deep or very compressed. A huge number
of variables can affect a space’s amplitude, but it’s possible to boil down all the possibilities
to some basic generalities: The greater the differences among forms’ sizes, relative lightness
or darkness, and proximity, the deeper the space will appear (A); if the space itself is dark in
value (substantially darker than pure white), the space will also seem deeper. Conditions
that are the opposite of these tend to compress, or flatten out, the illusory depth of a space:
Similarities of size among forms, as well as strong contrast in value (lightness/darkness)
between forms and their surroundings, most o en contributes to perception of shallow
space (B). Space also tends to appear flatter when forms are positioned at some distance
from each other, as opposed to overlapping one another.
These three book covers each capture the conditions of spread and amplitude in different
ways. In the cover at le , the space is a singularity, and its amplitude is quite shallow; the
cover in the middle shows space as a field, and one that is very deep. The cover at far right,
however, creates a space that is somewhat ambiguous: The title and the figure are very dark
against the overall lightness of the background, and so elicit a sense of singularity; but the
graphic lines, as well as the figure, bleed the edges of the format, creating qualities that
render the space more field-like.
YOUJIN CHOI / UNITED STATES ↑
LABORATORIO SECRETO / BRAZIL ↓
CARDON WEBB / UNITED STATES ↓↓
The aspect of amplitude is refreshingly tangible: a space either appears deep
or shallow. Space perceived as deep corresponds to our physical perception
of it in the natural world; it’s more empirical or “real.” Even highly
reductive or planar material may encourage a perception of staggeringly
deep space, most often as a result of extreme changes in scale (especially
typography, where line and limited color are dominant). Progressions of
value (relative lightness/darkness), also suggest deep amplitude. Still,
layouts may present space to be perceived as shallow, or even flat—a space
that is more intellectual than experiential. Perceptually shallow or flat space
suggests the mechanical, artificial, or analytical. The geometric or organic
quality of forms (see here and here) sometimes affects the quality of the
space in which they appear, as does the way they’re arranged (we’ll look at
this in greater depth beginning here). Perhaps the most important
relationship between form and space—the one that establishes a space’s
spread and amplitude, among other aspects—is that between what’s
perceived as positive versus negative, which is up next!

The projects shown here also show a range of spatial qualities that tend to be ambiguous.
The web page, above, seems like a singularity at first, but the progression from darkness in
the background to increasingly lighter value elements in the foreground makes the space
seem very deep, and almost like a field. The layout in the next image is very definitely a
field, but the logo that floats in the center asserts a quality of singularity. The poster that
follows is generally a field, given how elements bleed the format; but different kinds of
contrast between the dark elements and the giant title, versus the background, alternately
deepens and compresses the space. In the animation sequence (third following image), space
is depicted as an empirically deep field, but strong isometric perspective flattens it out.
POULIN+MORRIS / UNITED STATES ↑
FUMAN / NEW ZEALAND ↓
TOORMIX / SPAIN ↓↓
ONLAB / GERMANY ↓↓↓
Positive and Negative Form is a positive element, a thing, often
characterized as a figure. Space is considered negative (not in a bad way,
just as the absence, or opposite, of form). Space is the ground in which
forms act as figures. This figure/ground relationship is complementary and
mutually dependent: it’s impossible to alter one and not the other. The
confrontation between figure and ground defines every aspect of visual
activity a viewer will perceive; establishing that relationship is the first step
in creating an overarching message before a viewer registers any form’s
identity or text’s content. It is one of the most important aspects of design
because it affects so many others, from general emotional response to
informational hierarchy. The figure/ground relationship must be
understandable to the viewer and perceived as generating a logic, and
feeling, that is appropriate to the intended message: extremely active,
perhaps, versus calm and restrained. The number of figures (forms), their
sizes (relative to that of the ground), and the intricacy of alternation
between positive and negative all affect the overall impression.
A positive (black) form on a negative (white) ground, and the reverse, retains its identity as
positive if there is no other form or spatial break to define it as anything else. Note also how
the white form on the black background appears larger than its same-sized black
counterpart on the white field.
As a black (positive) form becomes larger within a negative (white) field, the le over
negative spaces become smaller and eventually might appear to be positive (white forms) in
the context of a black field.
Comparison of an active figure/ground relationship (top) with an inactive figure/ground
relationship (bottom) hints at the potential for meaning to be perceived even in such a
fundamentally simple, abstract environment. Compare these pairs of simple, opposing
ideas between the two examples: loud/quiet; aggressive/passive; nervous/sedate;
complex/simple; energetic/weak; and living/dead.
A dark-value element within a light-value space is typically appreciated as a positive form—
as are the photograph, the logo, and text on this web page's le -hand side. But, the white
rectangle on the right-hand side (which crosses a boundary between a light-value field and
a dark-value one) is also a positive element; both fields “under” it are negative. Within the
white rectangle, type elements are also positive, appearing to sit on top of the white
rectangle. These conditions don’t rise to the level of figure and ground reversing (appearing
to change places), but they create a dynamic sense of space nonetheless.
LUMINOUS DESIGN GROUP / GREECE

All of the elements (images and typography) that span the front cover, spine, and back cover
of this book jacket are positive. Note how alternation between smaller and larger forms, as
well as between forms of differing proportion, squeezes the negative spaces into distinct
shapes and proportions that sometimes correspnd to—and at others, contrast with—those of
the positive.
BLOK DESIGN / CANADA
Applying color changes to the intersections of larger forms on the brochure cover shown
above creates the perception that they are transparent; viewers will perceive a “middle
ground,” a somewhat ambiguous layering, but will remain aware of the basic distinction
between red and orange figures and blue field. Similarly, white type elements in the
brochure shown in the following image sometimes appear on top of the dancer, and
sometimes behind th dancer—but together, both the dancer and the type are positive figures
against a gray field.
MANUEL ESTRADA / SPAIN ↑
SURFACE / GERMANY ↓
All of the form elements in the logos shown here, and on the front side of the business card
that follow next, are purely positive elements—and exploit contrasts in mass, linearity, and
spatial interval to produce optical sensations of movement and dimensionality. The reverse
side of the business card at far right, however, presents a complicated, layered space in
which elements appear to transparently shi from near to far, and even to change place—a
condition called “figure/ground reversal” that we’ll discuss on the following page spread.
LSD SPACE / SPAIN ↑
NAROSKA DESIGN / GERMANY ↓
APELOIG DESIGN / FRANCE ↓↓
RESEARCH STUDIOS / UNITED KINGDOM ↓↓↓
UMBRELLA DESIGN / INDIA ↓↓↓↓
When Space Gets Complicated Sometimes, the figure/ground relationship
can become quite complex, to the extent that what appears positive one
minute appears negative the next: what is called figure/ground reversal.
This rich visual experience is extremely engaging; the brain gets to play a
little game, and, as a result, the viewer is enticed to stay within the
composition a little longer and investigate other aspects to see what other
fun he or she can find. If you can recall one of artist M.C. Escher’s
drawings—in which white birds, flying in a pattern, reveal black birds made
up of the spaces between them as they get closer together, you’re looking at
a classic example of figure/ground reversal in action. Further, figure/ground
reversal can create an apparent reversal of foreground and background by
overlapping two forms of different sizes, for example, or allowing a
negative element to cross in front of a positive element unexpectedly;
changes among forms’ relative opacity, or relative value (lightness or
darkness), will add to the ambiguity of a space, sometimes creating an
optical “middle distance,” or middle ground (discussed further here).

The first three logos shown above, le to right, embed a (white) positive form within
another, causing that form to become a negative space for the white one. In the fourth logo
(far right), the small figures toward the bottom appear to be in the foreground because one
of them connects to the negative space outside the mark, and the line contours around these
figures are heavier than those of the larger, crowned figure.
JOHN JENSEN / UNITED STATES ↑
FROST DESIGN / AUSTRALIA ↓
PETTIS DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓↓
SUNYOUNG PARK / UNITED STATES ↓↓↓
The flurry of birds in this poster (above) transitions from being positive elements against a
dark ground to the opposite; groups of typographic elements perform the same trick. The
graphic forms on the coffee packaging that follows also do double-duty: The solid window
shapes are positive elements, but those containing the le side of the dot (which depicts the
Moon) act as negative fields; the Moon appears to cross from behind a positive form that is
made of the surrounding negative blue-gray field.
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES ↑
MOLTOBUREAU / GERMANY ↓
Darker and lighter fields of color are used interchangeably for light and shadow to define a
three-dimensional space.
LSD SPACE / SPAIN
The figure/ground relationship in the poster above is exceptionally ambiguous: The flower
appears to be a figure, filling a neutral, white ground; but then it’s interrupted by angular
forms that appear to be both on top of it and to punch through it, revealing a layer of bold
typography within—which then also appears to be on the surface. Similar optical weirdness
occurs in the logo below: The uniform line weight shared by the squares and the type appear
as flat elements on the page’s surface; but the animal form appears to be inside the box, as
though it’s a window—and then to escape that space.
MANUAL / UNITED STATES ↑
MAKEBARDO / NEW ZEALAND ↓
A er viewers immediately recognize that this poster’s title—reversed white from the
stepped, red block—is a positive element in the foreground, all bets are off: Each grouping of
images, textures, and abstract graphic forms occupies its own overall position in spatial
depth, and the elements within each trade identities as either figure or ground, and some
(like the red element toward the middle right, with the speech bubble) act as both positive
and negative in relation to different elements around them.
ATELIER 480 / CANADA
Visual Logic A visual language manipulates optical variables that are
fundamental to seeing; their reason for being is to convey ideas (content, or
meaning). The content is the motivation, but it’s the qualities of a visual
language that help achieve that goal. First, it has to be be optically engaging
and enjoyable to look at so that people will, indeed, look. Second, the visual
language must help people see what they’re supposed to see in an orderly
fashion. The language must further convince them that the content is not
only relevant, but also believable: it must speak with authority and
reliability. And for that to happen, it must reveal solid logic: a methodically
interconnected reasoning for its parts and relationships that is purposeful,
and not left to chance. People are inherently suspicious. Clear, accessible
logic helps them trust a questionable message in two ways: its crafting
implies that someone has taken time to meet their needs (which suggests
empathy and respect for their time and intelligence); and it works to
diminish their presumed urge to refute the message’s validity. It answers
every question, “why” and “how,” as sensibly, and specifically as possible.
The basis of this brand system is a simple logic that relates the four individual letters of the
client company’s name to the exterior edges of whatever format in which they appear—
whether on the letterhead or business card (above), the billboard (below), or the website
(bottom). Conceptually, this logic causes the company name to enclose a variety of interior
spaces (the client rents apartments in a development); visually, the logic can flex to relate to
different formats and interact with different volumes, and kinds, of content to unify various
communications.
SIMPLE / AUSTRALIA
Appropriateness Viewers will project meaning onto any visual form they
see, no matter how simple or abstract. Designers know that culture and
context build a treasure trove of associations from which viewers draw to
help them interpret forms. It stands to reason, then, that any form in a
designed communication had better intuitively associate with the topic at
hand. If one’s goal is to convey a feeling of safety, for example,
dangerously sharp-looking shapes and chaotic, invasive interactions among
them are highly unlikely to make logical sense.

Corroboration All the forms chosen and every relationship in which they
participate should reinforce, restate, or riff on each other. That doesn’t mean
they should all be of the same kind—contrast of some kind (see here) is a
must, to keep things interesting. Rather, it means that aspects of the
language must share some qualities so that, despite appreciable variations,
they still clearly reinforce each other. They’re like puzzle pieces: all
different, yet each contributing a relevant part of the big picture. Any
element that isn’t doing so has to be reconsidered.
It’s not only the fact of the cocktail icon, garnished with its telltale umbrella, that conveys
an understanding appropriate to the party this poster promotes; more importantly, it’s the
specific, striped visual language the designer has used to describe that object, as well as the
title’s playful combination of font styles—bolder, lighter, ball serifed, inlined, sans serif, and
serif—jostling each other around the format.
HUNGRY STUDIO (SK) / SLOVAKIA
In both of these projects (above and below), overall layout and specific compositional
moments corroborate each other: The square-based, modular grid structure that organizes
material in the website above derives from the logo’s basic geometric structure. In the
cookbook cover below, the row of utensil handles at the top restates the regular rhythm of
aligned letters in the red title; the darker spoon that drops out of that row repeats a similar
condition created by the descender of the title’s lowercase F form at a larger scale.
PISCATELLO DESIGN CENTRE / UNITED STATES ↑
SANG ZHANG / UNITED STATES ↓
Decisiveness This is a fancy term for clarity, which has to do with whether
forms and their behaviors are readily identifiable, specific, and indisputable.
Each form and behavior can be called decisive if it is clearly one thing, not
another: In comparing two forms, for example, if one can quickly
appreciate that they are the same size, or clearly different in size, their size
relationship is decisive; similarly, if a group of forms is intended to appear
aligned on one side (and there’s no argument that they are or aren’t), then
their compositional relationship is also decisive.

Making the visual aspects of a layout decisive, or clear, is important

because the credibility of the message being conveyed depends on the sense
of confidence a viewer feels when looking at it. A sense of compositional
weakness results from the appreciation of indecisive moments. And,
although a viewer won’t consciously recognize what exactly is causing it,
the lack of clarity will evoke a nagging sense of uneasiness, that something
is “slightly off.” It should come as no surprise that creating uneasiness in a
viewer is not a great platform on which to build a persuasive message.

The circle, square, and triangle in the grouping above are mathematically the same height
(check the guide lines). You’ll notice, however, that the square appears larger than both the
circle and the triangle. Rectangular forms appear larger than other kinds because all their
sides are clearly defined. Circular forms appear to contract because the eye can’t fix on a
specific location anywhere on its continuous curve. The diagonal sides of the triangle,
similarly, pull the eyes away from the form’s vertices; even though its sides are equilateral
in measure, the triangle also appears somewhat narrower in width than does the square. In
the grouping closer to the bottom of the page, the characteristics of the circle and triangle
have been adjusted to appear the same size as the square.
Vertical lines appear to be lighter in weight than horizontal ones that are mathematically
the same thickness (the illusion results from our association of horizontal things with the
force of gravity). In the lower example, the weight of the vertical line has been adjusted so it
appears the same as that of the horizontal line.

Forms that are mathematically centered within a larger form (as is the white square within
the black square, top le ) will appear lower than center. In the second example, the white
square has been raised very slightly so that it will appear centered.

The semicircle at le is precisely half the width and mass of the full circle in the middle, but
it appears slightly condensed. In the example at right, a little bit more of the original circle
has been revealed, resulting in a semicircle that appears to be an actual semicircle.
A diagonal stroke that crosses another will appear broken, or discontinuous, as shown in the
example at top. To correct for this illusion, the crossing stroke must be actually broken, and
its right-hand side shi ed slightly downward (lower example).

A negative, or reversed, form (the white circle) looks larger than the same positive form (the
black circle), even though they are mathematically equivalent in size (top). In the lower
example, the black circle has been slightly enlarged so both appear to be the same size.
When two equivalent forms are positioned directly above and below each other, the upper
one will appear larger and heavier than the one below it (top). In the lower example, the top
circle has been slighlty reduced so that both will appear to be the same size.
Refinement and Resolution Getting from an initial visual thought to a
fully developed, clearly logical language requires iteration: making,
evaluating, and reworking to make it somehow better: refinining. It’s a
quirky term that can be a little confusing. Here, it means making forms and
their behaviors more decisively like themselves, or editing out what’s
inappropriate and exaggerating the qualities of what is. It’s not merely
“cleaning up.” The quality of refinement can apply to rough or aggressive
forms, elegant or clean ones; it may just as easily describe a complex,
vigorous layout as it might one that is quietly, and methodically ordered.
It’s not a term of value so much as an indicator of whether the visual
language has reached its end point, a state of rightness or harmony that no
longer seems to want for anything. That state is resolution. One must not
mistake it for “perfection” (totally impossible to achieve). It’s more like a
sense that nothing is broken and, so, doesn’t need any fixing—in essence,
that any questions the logic poses to the viewer are going to be answered.
What one needs to know in order to get there is what the next two sections
are about.

An image’s degree of refinement refers to how much it is like itself, how clear and
undisturbed by distracting or conflicting elements—rather than how “clean” or “finished” it
might appear. Shown to the right, first, is a form that is not yet refined; its internal
relationships are unclear, somewhat awkward or unresolved. Slight adjustments refine its
inherent characteristics so that they are more pronounced. An overlay of the original (gray)
and refined forms provides comparison of these alterations.
Careful refinements in the relative sizes of the massive black letterform and the equally
massive lighting fixture—along with careful attention to the view- point at which the light
was photographed and its angle of rotation within the format—yield two decisive
compositional moments: the curvilinear edge of the light tracks the contour of the big letter,
and the lower arc of its form dramatically “kisses” the corner of the big letter’s slab serif;
the result is visual unity between the two, and a moment of equisite tension.
HUNGRY STUDIO (SK) / SLOVAKIA
Look carefully at the small geometric and typographic elements on this magazine cover:
Note how they travel at angles in response to axes within the photograph, as well as how
their le and right edges correspond in vertical or horizontal alignment with each other,
clearly overlap, or point to other elements.
STUDIO NEWWORK / UNITED STATES
The delicate diagonal line, the medium-weight type at the right, and the bold,
deconstructed geometric numeral—all of radically different shape and size—seem somehow
uniformly distributed top to bottom and le to right around the vertical and horizontal
axes of this bottle. The designer has optically adjusted the sizes, weights, and positions of
all the elements to achieve the appearance of this balance.
DESIGNERS UNITED / GREECE
 ATTRIBUTES OF FORM

The Dot There are several kinds of basic form, and we perceive each as
doing something different, as having its own kind of identity. The
perception of these differences and how they affect the form’s interaction
with space and other forms around it, of differing identities, is what
constitutes their perceived meaning. The most basic type of form is the dot.
The identity of a dot is that of a point of focused attention; it simultaneously
contracts inward and radiates outward. As seemingly simple as it might
appear, however, a dot is complex, the fundamental building block of all
other forms. Every shape or mass with a recognizable center (a square, a
trapezoid, a triangle, a blob) is a dot, no matter how big it is. True, such a
shape’s outer contour will interact with the space around it more
dramatically if it does become bigger (and therefore, becoming a plane, as
described here), but it will still remain essentially a dot. Recognizing this
essential quality of the dot form, regardless of what other characteristics it
takes on incidentally in specific occurrences, is crucial to understanding its
visual effect in space and its relationship to adjacent forms.
The graphic dot, the photograph of crumpled paper, and the red graphic sign above are all
dots.
Dots assert their identities everywhere; it’s hard to not find them. A negative dot, for
instance, is created in reverse from the convergence of other forms (top). Clustering dots of
different sizes creates a more varied contour, but overall the cluster retains its identity as a
dot (bottom).
Dot-like forms are easy to recognize when they’re literally circular objects, as in the
photograph and the business cards shown above. A graphic form, however, doesn’t have to
be circular to be a dot. Barring a few elements that are clearly lines, many of the dots on the
gatefold pages of the brochure below are something other than circular. However, they’re
still treated as dots for the purpose of judging size change, proximity, tension, and negative
spaces between as though they were flat, black, abstract dots. Note how the type’s linear
quality contrasts with the dots on the pages.
KRISTIN TEIG (PHOTO)+ CATRINE KELTY (STYLING) / UNITED STATES ↑
PARÁMETRO / MEXICO ↓
C+G PARTNERS / UNITED STATES ↓↓
The Line Stringing a bunch of dots side by side creates the next basic kind
of form, the line. Its essential character is one of movement, direction, and
connection; it may unite, or separate, distinct areas within a given space.
This connection may be invisible, defined by the pulling effect on space
between two dots, or it may take on visible form as a concrete object aking
which the eye travels back and forth. The line might appear to start
somewhere and continue indefinitely or it might travel a finite distance.
Unlike a dot, therefore, the quality of a line (linearity) is one of movement
and direction; a line is inherently dynamic, rather than static. A line is
usually characterized by its thickness, or weight. Changing its weight,
relative to its length, has a much greater impact on its identity as a line than
does changing the size of a dot. As a line’s weight increases, it gradually
becomes perceived as a plane surface or mass; to maintain the line’s
identity, it must be proportionally lengthened. Lines may be solid or broken;
they may move along one path or track, or change direction; they may be
angled or curvilinear.

A thin, single line has no center and no mass, expressing only direction and an effect on the
space surrounding it. Breaking the line increases its surface activity without distracting
from its movement and direction.
Two heavy lines that are very close together create a third, negative line between them. The
optical effect of the negative white line is that of a positive element on top of a single black
element, even if the negative line joins open spaces at either end.
A line may be light or heavy in weight, of course; but its identity as a line will be
compromised if its weight, relative to its length, is too heavy—at which point, it will register
as a plane (a rectangle), as does the
A line traveling around a fixed, invisible point at an unchanging distance becomes a circle.
Note that a circle is a line, not a dot. If the line’s weight is increased dramatically, a dot
appears in the center of the circle, and eventually the form is perceived as a white (negative)
dot on top of a larger, positive dot.
Just as with dot-like forms, many kinds of visual element can be identified as lines—so long
as their length is far greater than their width. They may be purely graphical; images of
individual objects; linear elements within a full-frame environment; or typography, which
is perceived as literal lines. All of these possibilities appear in the two projects above: The
trees, navigation, supporting graphics, and text columns in the web page at top are all lines.
In the magazine spread just above, there are five lines (of varying weight and color),
represented by the typography—and one horizontal line embedded in the full-page image,
directly to the le of the red line of type on the right-hand page (do you see it?).
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↑
NAROSKA DESIGN / GERMANY ↓
The Plane A plane is just a big dot whose outer contour—the sense of its
shape—becomes an important attribute: for example, that it may be angular
rather than round. Viewers will perceive this change at the point where a
form enlarges within a given space so that it begins to affect the shapes of
the negative space around it. As a result, the characteristics of its area,
proportion, outer contour, and its surface become more definitive than its
dot-like qualities. All such shapes appear first as flat surfaces; their external
contours must be defined by the mind to identify it as being one kind of
shape or another and, subsequently, what meaning that shape might have:
we’ll recognize it as a square or triangle or something else. The more
complicated, or differentated, a plane’s contour, the more active the shape
will appear, and the less it will radiate and focus in the way a dot, with a
simple, undifferentiated contour, does. This happens even more
dramatically when a plane’s contour punches inward, or becomes concave,
allowing surrounding negative space to “pierce” the continuity of its
dimensional surface.

As a dot increases in size, its outer contour becomes noticeable, and visually more
important than its dot-like focal power—at which point, it becomes a plane.
A plane with a complex contour remains a dot if it’s surrounded by a huge volume of space.
In the example at far le , the form’s angular shape is unimportant; in the second example,
its shape is the only important thing about it.
Line, mass, and texture communicate before words or a recognizable image. On this
invitation for a calligraphy exhibit, the sense of pen gesture, flowing of marks, and the
desertlike environment of high-contrast shadow and texture are all evident in a highly
abstract composition.
VCU / QATAR
The various content areas of the website at top can be considered as a set of flat, rectangular
surfaces in space. Color and textural changes help establish foreground and background
positions between them but, interestingly, all join seamlessly into the base white field of the
page. In contrast, the planes in the site immediately below (which contain images) very
clearly establish themselves as objects floating at various levels against the dark
background field.
MADE IN SPACE, INC. / UNITED STATES ↑
FIASCO DESIGN / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
Mass and Volume Two-dimensional dots (if they’re big enough) and
planes appear to us as having a kind of weight, as opposed to space (which
we read as light or empty). This quality is called visual mass. Lines, in
contrast (and yes, this is splitting hairs, so to speak), are said to have no
mass because of the continual eye movement they create along their
strokes; the term weight is about their thickness, relative to their length.
Meanwhile, a planar form will generally be perceived to have greater mass,
or “feel heavier,” the larger it is, and the more it contrasts its surrounding
space. A plane whose area is uniform throughout, without any internal
activity (like a texture, for instance), will typically register as a flat surface.
Once areas within a plane are differentiated, a viewer will start to perceive
dimensionality, or volume. This quality will be especially pronounced if the
differences are textures or gradations in light and dark that resemble the
play of light across an object, as we would observe in the natural
environment. While apparently flat forms are more likely to appear “inside”
a format’s space, volumetric forms dramatically “lift” from the surface.

Curvilinear forms generally exhibit less mass than do rectilinear ones whose contours are
parallel with the sides of a rectangular format (far le ); rotating or skewing that rectangular
form will reverse that relationship (near le ).
Lines don’t usually appear to have mass because of their optical movement (especially if
they’re thin, as at far le ). The much heavier line (near le ) does express some mass, but it
still feels lighter than the square, despite being physically larger.

Most o en, the relative size of forms determines how heavy (how much mass) we perceive
them to have. Here, the smaller plane at far le appears lighter (less massive) than does the
larger one to its right.
The relative mass of the forms shown above appears to change, however, when they’re of
similar size: the complex contour of the near form lightens its visual weight because the
surrounding negative space interrupts its contour.

A plane whose mass is lightened by a consistent pattern seems more active but appears
flatter than does a solid plane—which appears to advance because of its perceived greater
weight (far le ). Overlapping the solid plane with the textured plane creates an ambiguous
tension between foreground and background. A plane whose texture emulates the effect of
light and shade appears to have volume (near le ).
Planar forms without internal differentiation appear flat and contained within an open
space, but heavy. Volumetric forms appear to float dimensionally off a surface, but also
appear lighter in mass.
The plane that holds the photograph, as well as the darker blue one that acts as a shadow
cast by the former, appear to be of different mass. The darker blue one appears heavier
because it’s continuous and because it’s similar in hue and value to the surrounding field.
The photographic plane appears lighter because its mass is broken by complex visual
activity.
CLASSMATE STUDIO / HUNGARY
Contour and Axis You’ve probably noticed that contour, a term used on
previous pages, was left undefined. Most readers are probably familiar with
its meaning, which is the perceived outer edge of a two-dimensional form
(even if it appears volumetric). Sometimes, the simpler “outline” is used
instead; another alternative is silhouette. The only important things to know
about contours are the simpler they are, the faster a form can be interpreted;
a form may have contours inside it, as well as outside; and, each segment of
a contour creates a specific directional motion. That directional motion
along a form’s contour is considered to extend beyond where the form ends,
creating an implied, invisible line that influences surrounding space—what
is called an axis (plural: axes). A line simply is an axis, but every other
form has at least two internal axes, along with any that its contours define:
one that describes its vertical dimension, splitting it in half from left to
right; and one that does the opposite. A form’s vertical and horizontal axes
establish its perceived orientation in space; and all axes are useful for
defining behavioral relationships.

The larger a form becomes within a field, the more any internal axes it may contain will
become appreciable, even if the overall form is relatively simple—as is that of the artichoke
shown here. When it’s very small, its primary vertical axis is dominant over its horizontal
axis because its stem creates a deviation against its contour that calls attention to it. In the
enlarged image, the vertical axis becomes secondary to the diagonal axes created by the
outstretched leaves along the contour—which also becomes more appreciable.
The outer contour of this logo’s primary symbol form is more or less triangular and
expresses the axes we’d intuitively expect would emanate from its three sides (even though
the sides themselves are irregular and organic in quality). The form’s interior surface
deformation creates an additional set of axes, extending from the form’s center outward
through its vertices.
THINK MOTO GMBH / GERMANY

Major axes created by the form elements in both of these projects (a styled photograph for a
cookbook, above le , and a book cover, above right) are diagrammed by lines outside each
image. The photograph, which contains a far greater complexity of form elements,
generates an expected multitude of axes; despite the apparent simplicity of material in the
book cover, however, the axes to be found are also apparently complex.
KRISTIN TEIG (PHOTO)+ CATRINE KELTY (STYLING) / UNITED STATES ↑
PODPUNKT / POLAND ↓
Aggregates There are, of course, many forms that are more complicated
than being simply dot-like or planar. Although it’s super helpful to identify
a form’s overall identity in the simplest way possible, it’s hard to ignore that
a lot of forms are made up of several base forms joined together. Being able
to recognize the form syntax at both levels is useful for different purposes.
Seeing the aggregate identity of a form, as a totality made of its combined,
individual parts, helps a designer consider its contours and axes—as well as
its size and position—relative to other forms within a given space. It helps a
designer make the first, major decisions about a composition. The form
identities of the internal components becomes helpful when considering
more specific aspects of the visual language: whether the forms share
particular elements that can be recognized among them to clarify the visual
language; and whether these internal form identities can help corroborate
the visual language’s syntax throughout the space.
Both of the illustrations seen here comprise groups of individual forms. Viewers will
perceive the vertical and horizontal axes of the grouping in the illustration to the le as
dominant over the individual axes of the internal components because they overlap to form
a single cluster. On the other hand, the looser, less concise grouping of components in the
aggregate to the right results in appreciation of a greater number of axes as potentially
dominant or important.
MEDIA INVIA (DIEGO MORALES) / BRAZIL
In this logo for a custom home builder, the initial B of the client’s name intertwines with
simplified leaf forms to create an aggregate with multiple, complex axes. Confining the
internal configuration within a simple diamond shape tames that dynamism by dominating
it with the diamond’s primary axes, creating a meaningful tension between decorative
creativity and cra ed control.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
The compositional organization of elements in the poster below depends most on the overall
diagonal axis of the Arabic script form—an aggregate of multiple axes (and differentiated
contours) that individually move the eye from part to part, establishing relationships with
the axes of the simpler forms at top and bottom, as well as with the secondary type
elements.
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES
Geometric Form As they do with all kinds of form, our brains try to
establish meaning by identifying a shape’s outer contour. There are two
general categories of shape, each with its own formal and communicative
characteristics that have an immediate effect on messaging: geometric form
and organic form. A shape is considered geometric in nature if the segments
of its contour are regular in measure (if its external measurements are
mathematically similar in multiple directions) and, very generally, if it
appears angular or hardedged. Although geometricity clearly occurs in
nature, that quality is usually hidden by more irregular aspects and, so, our
expectation of geometry is that it’s something artificial, contrived,
engineered, rational, or synthetic—human-made, to be specific. The weird
exception is the circle or dot, most often associated with natural forms and
processes: Earth, Sun, Moon, cell, cycles. Lines, too, may sometimes take
on an organic quality, depending on their specific qualities (being
curvilinear, for example, ore irregular or meandering, like a river or a worm
or a plant’s tendril).
There are three essential types of geometric form: circle, polygon, and line. For polygons,
the simplest are the square and the triangle, having four sides and three sides, respectively.
The square is the most stable and presents the most mass; the triangle is the least stable
polygon and induces a great deal of optical movement around its contour. The circle is
nearly as stable as the square although its continuous curve hints at rotation; its curvy
quality is completely opposite to that of the square. Lines that are straight, stepped, or
configured as angles are also geometric.
The poster above presents viewers with literally geometric forms: a set of colored cubes, all
with hard edges and faces that are easy to distinguish as geometric. It’s important to note—
as is the case with many kinds of form identity—that such geometric qualities are also
inherent in forms that are much more complex and, o en, not even images of physical
things. Case in point: the elements in the book spread layout below. The inset photographs
are clearly rectangles, and the objects they depict are geometric, planar forms; but the
justified block of text on the le -hand page is also a geometric form (a rectangle). Further,
the black line across the center is a geometric line, and the negative spaces surrounding the
inset photographs are also rectangles of different proportions. And, let’s not overlook the
letters of the word “pleasures”: loosely spaced and no longer interpreted as a textural line,
each letter also becomes more or less a vertical rectangle.
CHENG DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↑
STUDIO INTERNATIONAL / CROATIA ↓
Organic Form Forms that are irregular, complex, and highly differentiated
are considered organic—this is what our brains tell us after millennia of
seeing organic forms all around us in nature. As noted, geometry exists in
nature, but its presence is subtle and generally overshadowed by our
perception of overall irregularity. The structure of most branching plants,
for example, is triangular; in the context of the whole plant, whose branches
may grow at different rates and at irregular intervals, this intrinsic geometry
is obscured. Conveying a quality of organicism, therefore, means
reinforcing these irregular aspects in a form, despite any geometric
underpinning. Nature presents itself in terms of variation on essential
structure, so a shape might appear organic if its outer contour is varied
along a simple logic—many changing varieties of curve, for example.
Irregularity in measurement or interval between component parts similarly
conveys an organic identity. Nature is unrefined, unstudied, textural, and
complicated. Forms that exhibit these traits likewise are organic.
So , textured forms appear organic compared to similar forms with hard edges, as do forms
that are gestural, mostly curvilinear, or whose contours are constantly changing in rhythm,
direction, and proportion (topmost image above). Variation is an inherent aspect of organic
form in nature. All these essentially similar shapes (image immediately above) are varied
slightly relative to each other; as a result, they express an organic quality, despite their
overall structural similarity.
The shapes shown here—one, with a relatively simple contour (above), and the other, with a
highly differentiated contour (below)—are organic, but to lesser and greater degrees. The
shape at le has a simpler, less differentiated contour and, so, is relatively more dot-like
and geometric than its counterpart, whose contour is very complex, with highly irregular
curves and incursions of negative space.
Although drawn digitally, the fluid, irregularly waving background forms in this web page
are very organic, providing a clear contrast with the geomet- ric, rectangular insets.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
Typically geometric forms like the dots (in the brochure spread above) and lines (in the logo
to the below) can rapidly become organic in quality simply by virtue of the medium used to
render them—which, in these two instances, happens to be paint.
VOICE / AUSTRALIA ↑
STRESSDESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓
Texture The quality of surface activity helps in differentiating forms from
each other, just as the identifiable contours of form itself does. The term
texture applies to surfaces having irregular activity without apparent
repetition. The sizes of the elements creating surface activity might change;
the distance between the components might change; the relative number of
components might change from one part of the surface to another. Because
of this inherent randomness, texture generally is perceived as organic or
natural. Clusters and overlaps of lines—dots in specific alignments—are
also textural, but only if they are relatively random, meaning that they’re
not running parallel, or that they appear with varying intervals between, or
in random, crisscrossing directions. The identifying characteristic of surface
activity (texture or otherwise) is that it usually fills an area from edge to
edge; it is perceived as an overall, continuous field, instead of as a discrete,
self-contained object. Introducing a textural element into the background
areas of layouts is a quick way of helping to activate negative space without
adding other forms.

Visual activity on a plane surface is categorized as a texture if it appears random or if it

changes in quality from one location to another. While most o en organic in source (above),
such textures may also be created from dot-based or linear form (below).
The more regular a texture’s density is within a given area, the more two dimensional it will
appear—and the less organic or natural. Conversely, strong contrast in density increases the
texture’s dimensional quality as well as its inherent organic quality. An evenly continuous
transition from lighter to darker value will o en be perceived as the play of light across a
volume.

Upon closer inspection, the irregular texture around the numeral is revealed to be a flock of
hummingbirds. Oddly enough, their apparently random placement is carefully studied to
control the change in density.
STUDIO WORKS / UNITED STATES
The image in the web page below combines textural surface activity of different kinds (the
cracked and flaking surface of earth and the networked lines that span the format). Further,
by presenting the photograph at that particular scale, creates two different qualities of
texture: extremely organic, appearing on the tops of the major earth chunks; and more
geometric (even pattern-like) created by the large, somewhat grid-like cracks themselves.
FIASCO DESIGN / SPAIN
Pattern Surface activity in which the internal components are arranged on a
recognizable structure or in repeated intervals—for example, a grid of dots
—is a very specific kind of texture called a pattern. The existence of a
planned structure within patterns means they are understood to be
something that is not organic: they are something synthetic, mechanical,
mathematical, or mass produced. The scale of pattern, relative to the format,
will establish different qualities. A pattern made up of very small elements
will present itself as a field or background. If the elements are very large,
they will act as a grouping of foreground elements, competing for attention
with other kinds of material in the space. This is especially true of a pattern
(in contrast to a texture) because of the geometric quality of its base forms
and the appreciably regular (and often noticeably separated) intervals
between them. Just like textures, patterns may be used across the full field
of a format’s area—not only within planar forms—and, even if extremely
subtle, will help activate vast areas of negative space.
Visual activity on a plane surface should be categorized as pattern if it exhibits some
repeated, consistent relationship, such as a grid structure, between its component
elements. At top is a simple, linear herringbone pattern, while at bottom, a photographic
image shows a complex grid pattern.
Increasing the density of a pattern’s components creates a change in darkness or value.
Changes in pattern density may be stepped, as in the example at top, or continuous, as in
the example below it. While the continous transition from lighter to darker values in the
bottom example is smooth and less geometric in appearance, the pattern still retains its
mechanical quality in contrast to texture.
Warping the proportions of a dot grid creates a dramatically three-dimensional pattern.
This quality refers to the activity of the client, a medical imaging and networking
organization.
LSD SPACE / SPAIN
Patterns are a ubiquitous visual language throughout history and appear in numerous
contexts—in addition to creating dramatically eye-catching optical flicker, that means they
can also represent distinct, complex narratives. The waving line pattern in the web page at
top, for a marina, evokes both the surface of water and the idea of nautical flags. The
pattern of radiating lines within repeating triangle motifs on the book cover below, le ,
immediately evokes the Art Déco movement of the 1920s and 30s, the setting of the novel it
wraps. The wave pattern on the book cover below, right (in addition to water) calls to mind
the prows of Greek sailing ships and the surface marking of Greek armor.
MUCHO / SPAIN ↑
CORALIE BICKFORD-SMITH / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
The Physical Surface Printed projects, packaging, and other dimensional
communications (like kiosks, wayfinding signs, trade show booths, and so
on) offer an exciting opportunity to work with surface activity in a physical
way. In printing, one may easily factor the surface qualities of various paper
stocks into the overall visual language. A designer may also consider the
potential of folding, cutting, shortsheeting, embossing, perforating,
stitching, and tearing for exaggerated surface effects. Special printing
techniques offer further possibilities. Natural materials, like wood and
stone, bring strong textural forms to bear in dimensional projects. Glass,
plastics, and other industrial materials—textiles, laminates and metals—
provide hundreds of options for customization beyond stylistic patterns
their manufacturers might create: punching, extruding, sandblasting, and
etching. And then, too, there are hardware embellishments, like grommets,
clips, snaps, appliqués, and wires. As with any form language, designers
must consider more than a material’s visual qualities alone to account for
any meaningful associations it might suggest.
Paper stocks are either coated (having a smooth, matte or glossy surface); or uncoated
(having a more fibrous, tactile surface). Combining the two kinds in the same project, as in
the book above, foregrounds their different feels as another message in the visual language.
Pressing into, or debossing, the surface of a fibrous, “toothy” stock smooths the debossed
areas, as in the business card above, right. Some papers have flecks of other materials
embedded within them for added surface activity (and, in the case of the business card
(second image below), can suggest other kinds of material, like salty pretzels).
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↑
ASCEND STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
TRIBORO DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓↓
Translucent paper stocks offer beautiful possibilities for layered and textural experiences,
as seen in the packaging and poster (above) and annual report (below).
PARÁMETRO / MEXICO ↑
MADE IN SPACE, INC. / UNITED STATES ↓
PEOPLE DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓↓
Metallic inks and paper stocks introduce surface activity through reflection and refraction.
Both are used in the report above (silver ink printed on the uncoated green envelope, and
matte inks printed on the glossy silver cover). Below, a detail of a brochure page shows the
effect of printing a silver ink on an uncoated surface for a more subtle surface sparkle.
METAKLINIKA / SERBIA ↑
MUCHO / SPAIN ↓
Stamped foils, which are available in numerous colors and finishes (metallic or pearlescent,
for example) are used to dramatic effect on the series of club invitations shown here. The
black invitation card and the business card (below) show the elegant effect of glossy
varnishes.
FORM / UNITED KINGDOM ↑
THERE / AUSTRALIA ↓
MUCHO / SPAIN ↓↓
Transparent and translucent plastics, like acetate or lucite (called “perspex” in the UK) are
available both uncolored and colored; and they may be printed with a variety of techniques
and ink types. The acetate jacket above is screenprinted with a matte ink to focus the
material’s reflective quality in the unprinted areas. The business card below, for a glass
museum, is a thin-gauge lucite, printed both sides with semitransparent areas to create a
kind of animation of the logo’s letters as the card is tilted at different angles.
INFINITO / PERU ↑
STUDIO MARVIL / CROATIA ↓
Embossing, in which the surface of the paper is raised (the opposite of debossing) also
highlights the surface of the paper with a more tactile quality. In the restaurant
compliments card (above), it subtly captures the organic movement of the plant image. In
the photographer's business card (following image), the embossed rectangle alludes to the
film-case back of a camera. It pairs with stickers—which add a different level of raised
tactility—on the brochure cover shown a er the business card.
GRETEL / UNITED STATES ↑
FUMAN / NEW ZEALAND ↓
MUTABOR / GERMANY ↓↓
Complex die-cuts reveal folded flaps, printed with different ink colors, in a promotional
greeting card for an accounting firm (above); and create a surprising pop-up image in the
book spread below.
C+G PARTNERS / UNITED STATES ↑
VOICE / AUSTRALIA ↓
These extravagantly dimensional pieces from an architecture firm’s stationery system (a
compliments card at top, and business cards, below) result from scoring their heavy-weight
paper stocks and folding them. The scores are highlighted with a metallic ink.
LUMINOUS DESIGN GROUP / GREECE
Elastic bands activate the surface of a fashion designer’s media kit folder (while also
forming an abstract W); a leather-bound box contrasts texture and subdued, neutral color
with smooth, vibrantly colored ribbons.
VON K BRAND DESIGN STUDIO / AUSTRIA ↑
ROYCROFT DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓
 PUTTING STUFF INTO SPACE

Breaking Into It Space is neutral, undefined, and inactive until a designer

breaks it with form. No matter how simple it might be, that form defines the
space and gives it meaning the instant it appears. And doing so opens a
huge can of worms: The resulting breach of emptiness creates new space
around the form; each form a designer adds decreases the literal amount of
available space and forces it into distinct shapes around the positive
material. Each time a designer changes even one aspect of any form,
whether size, position, orientation, or color, it changes all the conditions in
play. At every step, he or she faces a cascading set of results from each
decision that will convey messages before viewers can begin to register the
actual content: Calm? Intimate? Expansive? Active? Claustrophobic?
Anxious? Energetic? It’s nearly overwhelming to think about. The best
advice is to not think about it: just do it, and see what the results are; change
something and compare the differences; and repeat. Seeing and analyzing
how space changes after each new decision, using the intended forms or
material, is the only way to figure out how space will best integrate with it.

As soon as a form enters a given space, the space is changed and structure appears—simple
as this might be. There are now two spaces created by the form’s location in the center of
the format—each similar in quality, shape, and volume.
Without changing the form—except for a minor repositioning—the volumes, shapes, and
qualities inherent in the spaces surrounding the form are made different from each other.

Changing any aspect of a form in space—its relative size, its shape, its orientation to
horizontal or vertical—or adding an additional form, creates differentiated spaces with new,
more complex relationships to each other.
Form elements break the space in very different ways in each of these two projects. In the
poster (above), they break the space into discrete units that contain each element, whose
axes help to interrelate them. In the web page (below) the overlap of title and image,
together with the secondary texts’ staggered alignments and rotation, causes the space to
seem folded backwards and forwards in layers. Study both and see if you can identify all the
axes that the forms define in each.
LEONARDO SONNOLI / ITALY ↑
EXECUTIVE AGENCY / CANADA ↓
Exceptionally large scale images interact with type and abstract graphic forms in this
website, dramatically breaking the page space. Seeing the whole page, the composition
seems very energetic but, viewed in a typical browser, the size of the images means visitors
scan their forms and details relatively slowly as they scroll down the page. Together with an
intuitively organic structure, that stately pace creates a relaxing, casual quality—while
diagonal axes among the forms establishes continuity from top to bottom and perception of
an underlying order.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
Each typographic element in this page spread subdivides the format’s overall proportion to
create new, smaller shapes and proportions of space.
VOICE / AUSTRALIA
The differences in proportion between the various spaces surrounding the elements in this
page spread—as well as the inward/outward contour of text and images—activate a
tremendous amount of space without filling it.
LOEWY / UNITED KINGDOM
How Dots Behave Seeing that forms create space is an important
understanding at which to arrive, but a designer also has to know how each
kind of form acts on space, and each kind does something different.
Because dots are the most basic forms, it’s a good place to start. Dots draw
attention to themselves. Within a rectangular space, a dot somewhat
expresses vertical and horizontal axes, but the truth is that dots don’t have
axes at all—or, better put, they have an infinite number. Although one
might first see a dot as breaking its surrounding space into quadrants (of a
sort), that perception rapidly disintegrates because the brain acknowledges
all the axes, radiating outward and inward at the same time. The net effect is
that the dot shifts attention away from space toward its location. That
changes as soon as another dot appears: the two dots create a specific axis
(an invisible line); additional dots create further axes among them, as well
as begin to mark the boundaries, or contours, of space shapes. Working
together, dots establish the simplest basis for structure, including other
kinds of forms, both positive and negative.
A dot centered in a space establishes an immediate presence; its proportion, relative to its
surrounding area, is the most important consideration; second is its relative position to the
edges of the space. The dot breaks the space neutrally. It is weightless, internally balanced,
settled, and static, but it dominates the space around it. Once the dot moves from the
center, there is a shi in dominance: the background asserts itself, tension arises.
Introducing a second dot shi s attention away from the relationship of the space to the
interaction of the two dots. They refer to each other and imply a structure—an invisible,
connecting path that splits space apart. If the space between dots is just about zero, its
presence assumes more importance than the dots themselves, and even more importance
than any other spatial interval. If the dots overlap, especially if they are different sizes, the
tension created by their closeness is relieved. However, a new tension arises: the dichotomy
of flat, graphic form and the appearance of three-dimensional depth as one dot seemingly
inhabits a foreground, and the other, a background position. The closer the dots are to each
other, the more powerful the sense of their unique identity as objects; the further apart, the
more pronounced the sense of structure, induced by the invisible path between them.
The presence of more than two dots (especially in close proximity) reduces the focus on
identity and increases attention to their reciprocal relationships and, thus, a sense of
structure or meaning. How far are the dots from each other? Is each dot the same distance
from its counterparts? What is their configuration, and what outer shape does it make? What
does this shape signify? Do the dots appear static, or to be moving, and how?
The perception of spatial depth occurs among dots that are different sizes: a larger dot
advances in front of a smaller one. Changing the relative tonal values of the dots, however,
can create an ambiguous spatial tension among them, even though their relative sizes
remain the same. In the example at top, the larger dot clearly appears closer than does the
smaller one. In the bottom example, this condition isn’t nearly as clear.
A tremendous number of small dots creates a field of surface activity (see here and here) in
which structure becomes far less important than the activity itself. Dots that are evenly
spaced (top) create a regularized pattern; or, if irregularly spaced, a randomized texture
(right). The relative darkness or lightness of these fields depends on density (how close the
dots are to each other). In the textural field, this density changes, creating areas of differing
value, and a sense of movement).

Working together, dots create an endless variety of arrangements and increasing complexity
—rows, angles, planar forms, curves, geometric patterns, and so on.
Dots, both literal (graphic) and pictorial, demonstrate radically different behaviors in these
four projects. In the web page above, they create ecstatic bubbles. In the poster below, they
produce an undulating mass, but restate the structure of the B logo.
IDEAS ON PURPOSE / UNITED STATES ↑
LEONARDO SONNOLI / ITALY ↓
LOEWY / UNITED KINGDOM ↓↓
THINK MOTO GMBH / GERMANY ↓↓↓
Dots are organized in grids in both the poster above and the brochure cover below but,
again, these produce different effects. In the poster, they illustrate the idea presented by the
headline; in the brochure cover for a university science program, they behave in a way that
seems molecular.
How Lines Behave In contrast to dots, lines emphasize the space around
them. As we’ve seen (shown here), that’s because our eyes continually track
across them; it’s hard to nail down a line’s location, so we focus instead on
what’s happening on either side of it, or the places to which the line’s
movement directs us. Multiple lines call attention to their individual,
directional movements, whether parallel or diverging; to their relative
weights (and thus, potential foreground/background position); but more
emphatically, they call into question the spatial intervals between them—
how little or how much; whether they’re the same or different; and the way
those intervals change, if they do: what is known as rhythm, the sense of
compression and expansion. Even though intervals between dots create
rhythm, it’s usually dominated by the dots’ visual insistence on their
locations. More than any other kind of form, lines emphasize rhythmic push
and pull between them. Lines produce another peculiar spatial effect that
results from a perception that they are inscribed, or scratched, across a
surface: lines tend to optically flatten illusory space.

Several thin lines together create a texture, similar to that created by a dense grouping of
similar-sized dots.
Separating the lines increases attention to their individual identities. It also calls attention
to the intervals between them and what, if any, variation there might be.

A change in weight among a group of lines, as well as a change in the intervals between
them, creates the illusion of spatial depth. Lines that are closer together exert tension on
each other and advance in space, while those further apart recede. If any of the lines are
rotated to cross their counterparts, the perception of spatial depth is enhanced—and even
more so if their weights also are differentiated. Although a thin line generally will appear to
recede against a thicker line, the mind is capable of being convinced that the thin line is
crossing in front of the thick line.

White (negative) lines crossing in front of (and behind) black (positive) lines create
increasingly complex spatial relationships.
Lines that both enter and leave a format reinforce the sense of their movement along the
direction in which they do so. If the beginning or ending points of the lines are contained
within the format, their directional movement is changed from continuous to specific; the
result is that their tension with surrounding space or forms is increased greatly as the eye is
able to focus on the point at which they start or stop.

Two lines joining create an angle. The joint between two lines becomes a starting point for
two directional movements; multiple joints between lines create a sense of altered direction
in one movement. An extremely acute angle might also be perceived as a rapid movement
from one direction to another.

A spiraling line appears to move simultaneously inward and outward, re-creating the visual
forces inherent in a single dot.
Lines together produce rhythm. Equally spaced, a set of lines produces an even, relatively
static tempo; differences in space produce a dynamic, syncopated tempo. The kind of spatial
difference introduced between lines affects the perceived rhythm and might create
meaning: progression, sequence, repetition, or system. Such rhythmic changes in interval
create directional movement; the more complex the changes and the more variation in line
weights, the more complex the rhythm becomes.
Lines might break or join spaces within a format. In breaking or joining these spaces, lines
might perform additional functions relative to other forms within the same format: (A) The
line protects the circular form. (B) The white line joins both forms across a barrier. (C) The
line offers contrast to the form, but supports it. (D) The line joins two spaces.

The designers of both page spreads, above and below, use lines to separate text into distinct
zones and create rhythmic intervals from top to bottom.
STUDIO MARVIL / CZECH REPUBLIC ↑
E-TYPES / DENMARK ↓
BR/BAUEN / BRAZIL ↓↓
In the page spread above, lines act in a variety of ways: Circular lines enclose letters, while
diagonal lines join them in a rapid zig-zagging motion. The heavy spiral line crosses the
spread’s gutter to join the two pages; at the same time, it participates in an ambiguous
spatial relationship with the large A (which advances) and the green, lowercase letters
(which appear to recede).
STUDIO MARVIL / CZECH REPUBLIC ↑
E-TYPES / DENMARK ↓
BR/BAUEN / BRAZIL ↓↓
Lines that change in weight or value (relative lightness/darkness) become visually
dimensional, as seen in these stills from a video wall installation. This apparent
dimensionality increases in lines whose weights change from beginning to end (note the
arcing line in the blue screen shown above middle le ), which appears to originate deep in
the distance, advancing over the type to exit the frame in the foreground in the image just
above le .
MANUAL / UNITED STATES ↑
How Planes Behave Planar forms cut space apart into recognizable chunks.
As they do, they describe the shapes of those spatial chunks more explicitly
than do other basic forms. That’s because we perceive planes as literal
objects, with mass, occupying dimensional space (typically, in the
foreground); and because we are hardwired to focus on objects in our field
of vision, we’re not only hyperaware of their masses, but of their contours
as we try to identify them (“Is it a threat?”). Our eyes compare planar
contours for their angular or curvilinear qualities, their directional
movements, and how close other contours are, at any given point. As a
result, planes force us to see the specific shapes of spaces very concretely—
more so when the planes are close together. Planes do also rhythmically
squish and morph surrounding spaces, but this rhythm is perceived as
directional: because their shapes are so distinct, it’s easy to tell in what
direction a space shape is “facing” or “pointing,” what could be called its
thrust. In this way, planar forms drive our eyes around them and through
surrounding spaces, creating tracks for our eyes to follow, or eyeline paths.

Planar forms can produce a variety of spatial effects. In the le -hand page of the spread at
top, the plane that contains the image and the solid one to its right act as adjacent fields that
extend beyond the format because their boundary is continuous and spans the page from
top to bottom. Compare this to the dark plane on the right-hand page, which appears to
enter from the exterior and interrupt the page. On the same page, the small trapezoidal
shape containing text appears as a discrete object “sitting” on the surface. Among the video
stills in the image below, planes that are alternatley opaque or transparent, of solid color or
containing images, act to create a sense of layers and “windows” at various depths. The
interaction of their diagonal contours and corners create vigorous inward and outward
movement.
FIASCO DESIGN / UNITED KINGDOM ↑
MUCHO / SPAIN ↓
Rotating rectangular planes imparts a perception of movement. In the folder above, doing
so around a fixed point—together with a change in each one’s relative color temperature
(see here in chapter 2)—results in a spiraling effect. The illusory movement of the square
filmstrip elements on the magazine cover (below) can be interpreted in two ways: the
individual squares may be spinning in place, or they may have been rapidly distributed to
arrive at those positions.
FORM / UNITED KINGDOM ↑
STUDIO DIEGO FEIJOO / SPAIN ↓
Most polygons tend to appear “flat” in orientation to the format surface (and generally
static) when their sides are equal in measure (le ); as soon as even one of their sides
differentiates, they appear to exhibit “perspective” and suggest directional movement
(right).
Just as with dots, tension between planes increases with proximity, but eases upon overlap
(A); it likewise increases when a vertex confronts an edge (B). Two edges in close proximity,
on the other hand (C), create a kind of optical compression, or squeezing, that forces the eye
along the channel they create; the “pressure” dissipates when the eye encounters a
deviation. It’s this particular quality (and the overt directionality of edge axes) that
establishes eyeline path. Aligning edge axes between planes creates additional,
interconnected movement.
Planes need not be geometric forms, nor even completely abstract shapes…nor image
elements at all. In the page layout shown here, for instance, the two major visual elements
are planes, even though they’re organic, droplet or seed shapes. For that matter, the figure is
also an organic plane (despite the dot-like shape of her head).
ASCEND STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM ↑
DAS BURO / NETHERLANDS ↓
STEREOTYPE / UNITED STATES ↓↓
In the video still (above), one will first see the diagonally spliced areas and the large dots as
planes; the human figures are also planes. It’s interesting that the aforementioned diagonal
planes are defined as such by lines, and by the shi of material between them, rather than
by individual shapes.
ASCEND STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM ↑
DAS BURO / NETHERLANDS ↓
STEREOTYPE / UNITED STATES ↓↓
The letterforms in most fonts are varied in their proportions and detailing; the ones seen in
the poster shown here, however, are exceptionally condensed (see chapter 3, shown here)
and tightly packable; this condition foregrounds their shape as a group, or surface, that is
very geometric, with clearly rectilinear contours. The rotation of the black element across
the white one further exaggerates the type’s planar quality.
ASCEND STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM ↑
DAS BURO / NETHERLANDS ↓
STEREOTYPE / UNITED STATES ↓↓
Arranging Form After becoming familiar with the ways each kind of form
element behaves in space, it comes down thinking about what forms can do
together, adding further dimension to a communication’s visual logic. A
first consideration is how forms will occupy their given space—which
really has to do with their overall scale, and whether they fill that space to
some degree or appear contained within it. And, just as forms themselves
may be geometric or organic in nature, the way they’re arranged within a
given space may exhibit similar qualities in gesture. It doesn’t matter
whether the forms are geometric or organic themselves; either kind may be
arranged either way. Geometric arrangement means regularity and
mathematical relationships: repeated spatial intervals and alignments of
edges and axes, especially ones that restate or emphasize basic structural
attributes of the format. Conversely, just as organic forms are highly
irregular, so too is organic arrangement: inter vals change in measure and
proportion; their negative space shapes are more differentiated; and there’s
a notable absence of alignments between contours and axes.

In simplest terms, there are only two ways that form elements can occupy a space—whether
they happen to be nonpictorial, or abstract, or pictorial, meaning images (see chapter 4,
shown here and here). First, they can more or less cover the field, either completely or
partially bleeding out of the format (A). Alternatively, forms may be contained, or inset,
within the space (B); such forms may be shapes unto themselves or contain cropped images,
and they may also touch the format's edge or bleed.
An arrangement of geometric forms in geometric, or mathematical, spatial relationships (A)
is contrasted by the irregular, organic quality of their arrangement in irregular relationships
(B).

These two posters combine a variety of arrangement strategies: In the poster at le , the
pictorial imagery, although spliced by vertical, planar divisions, bleeds the format; the flat
gray rectangles, although they do bleed the poster’s le - and righthand edges, also appear
as inset planes. Throughout, all of the material is arranged geometrically. In the poster at
right, most of the material is inset (except for the le -hand arc of the circular element,
which bleeds the format’s le edge); the blocks of gray and brown dot patterns are arranged
geometrically, in contrast to the illustrative pottery shards and the large title, which are
arranged organically.
SANG ZHANG / UNITED STATES ↑
LESLEY MOORE / NETHERLANDS ↓
Dynamic or Static? Regardless of form identities or the geometric or
organic qualities of their spatial arrrangement, positive and negative may be
arranged so that they’re perceived as interacting with differing levels of
“energy.” At one extreme, their dialogue can be made to seem energetic, or
dynamic (alive, noisy, vigorous, in motion). At the other, a designer can
cause this interaction to quiet down or even to become still, or static
(devoid of energy or vitality, or restful). Because the picture plane is
actually a flat environment where movement and depth are illusions,
designers and design educators will most often advocate for dynamism as a
desirable goal, rather than for a static impression. As with all “rules” of this
kind, of course, context is everything: If the perception of a project’s
intended message will benefit from a quiet, static composition, a designer
should obviously pursue organizational approaches that will achieve that
result.

Multiple forms situated around similar spatial intervals create static interaction. The
composition at top seems restful, comfortable, and quiet, and exhibits a kind of stasis,
despite the irregularity and rotation of the forms. Altering the intervals between form
elements, or between elements and format edges (bottom), creates a dynamic composition.
The movement of the eye is enhanced as these intervals exhibit more contrast with each
other. Note the areas where the negative spaces become compressed or exhibit a directional
thrust.
Orienting the axes of various forms parallel to those of the format typically results in a more
restful, static quality, in which the forms appear anchored to the format’s space (top).
Rotating forms so that their axes contrast with those of the format usually results in a more
dynamic quality (bottom).
In the book spread at top, the designer rotates type elements and crosses image boundaries
with them to enhance the compositional activity created by decisive spatial breaks of
differing interval. In the book spread below, regular intervals and strict alignments
between elements statically anchor them, in contrast to dynamic movement provided by the
image on the right-hand page.
MICHELLE LIV / UNITED STATES ↑
ESTUDIO PÁNICO / ECUADOR ↓
Symmetry Of the many types of arrangement that are possible, most fall
into two categories of governing rationale (or logic, for short). The first of
these is symmetry, which is about mirroring forms and their relative
positions across an axis. Symmetry occurs in nature, a fact with which we
live every day: if we were to divide ourselves down the center, top to
bottom, we would recognize that our parts on either side of that division
(axis) are identical. Symmetry imposes a strict order on arrangement: it
almost demands a single starting position at which to begin reading forms,
and then a specific direction in which to read them; further, form elements
that don’t participate in that order tend to disconnect and seem out of place.
Symmetrical arrangements present content very simply and directly, but
they are best approached with caution because they’re inherently static. By
duplicating form shapes and their surrounding spaces on either side of the
axis, their simplicity is often so direct it causes viewers to read them very
quickly; viewers are thus less likely to intellectually engage the
composition, and so, “gloss over” them.

Within a symmetrical composition, elements may respond to a format’s vertical (A),

horizontal (B), or diagonal axis (C). This kind of symmetry, in which form elements’ centers
align with the axis (straddling or mirroring each other across the axis,) is described as
bilateral symmetry. In rotational symmetry, elements invert in their orientation relative to
the axis (D).
Arranging forms symmetrically around two axes creates greater complexity.

Symmetrical forms may respond to their axis in a number of ways: by straddling or

mirroring across it (A); alternating in position across it (B); and/or by explicitly hugging the
axis or straying from it, referring to it by implication (C).
Symmetrical arrangement is the oldest kind of visual organization, typically associated
with authority and traditionalism—both of which qualities are appropriate in the poster
above. The use of rotational symmetry in the page spread, below, exploits symmetry’s
capacity to rapidly interconnect forms in space, but does so in a way that imparts a more
contemporary feeling.
BRUKETA & ZINIC / CROATIA ↑
ASCEND STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
Asymmetry The second, general type of organizational logic a designer
may consider is one in which the relationships among the axes and contours
of subject forms do not respond to a single axis—the opposite of symmetry,
or asymmetry. In contrast to the condition established by symmetrical logic,
this means, generally, that no set of spaces, nor the contours of any forms,
will correspond with each other in a direct, one-to-one repetition. Further,
asymmetrical arrangements require continual differentiation in structure to
achieve resolution. Because of this naturally greater complexity,
asymmetrical composition holds viewers’ attention for a lot longer, because
the brain needs to keep looking at all of the different relationships a lot
longer to figure out what’s going on. It’s often argued that, because
information is organic in nature (whether it’s pure form, imagery, or type),
asymmetry is fudnamentally better suited to organizing it: Asymmetry
allows for the content to do what it needs to do in the most effective way
possible, whereas symmetrical organization forces it into predetermined
relationships.

Content is always different and always changing, and an asymmetrical approach allows a
designer to be flexible, to address the spatial needs of the content, and to create visual
relationships between different items based on their spatial qualities. The horizon line in
the room, the vertical column, the red headline, the text on the page, and the smaller inset
photograph all respond to each other’s sizes, color, and location; the negative spaces around
them all talk to each other.
THINKSTUDIO / UNITED STATES

Asymmetrical organization, as seen in this web page, tends to impart a greater sense of
activity and rhythm—primarily because the proportions of the elements, as well as the
spatial intervals between them, are continually changing.
C. HARVEY GRAPHIC DESIGN / UNITED STATES
Reconciling the opposing logic of symmetry and asymmetry is difficult, but the complexity
and contrast that results can be very useful. It’s important to ensure that the composition’s
overall logic is very clearly defined as one or the other, so that form elements or groups
opposing it don’t create confusion. In the first example (top) an overall symmetrical
composition is violated by asymmetrical elements; in the second example (bottom), a
symmetrically arranged grouping takes on a remarkable specificity within an overall
asymmetrical composition.
Structure Arranging forms in space builds a skeleton of visual
interconnections—a sturdy gestural framework of parts that together, create
a totality called structure. Viewers recognize structure through the
organization of forms’ contours and axes as an underlying framework
across space. Both within forms, as well as between forms, the contours and
axes may be aligned or grouped in an almost limitless number of ways.
Viewers will first appreciate a primary superstructure that binds everything
together and dominates the visual field or format as a whole. Individual
elements may be arranged in secondary structures that restate relationships
in the superstructure, add to or evolve them, or contradict them entirely.
Structures may be very rigid and repetitive in interval or very fluid and
irregular. Because viewers can easily relate visual structures to physical
ones they encounter in the real world (plants, buildings, and so on), a
particular structure’s qualities will likely impart extremely different
associations that influence a viewer’s overall perception of content and,
therefore, of its meaning.
Arrangements of a single kind of form—rectangular planes—present numerous
compositional structures that vary between geometric and organic, rigid and irregular.
These structural approaches are by no means comprehensive, nor must they be used
independently of each other; combining different kinds of structural approach offers infinite
compositional possibilities.
Extremely geometric structures are readily appreciated, and we’re very familiar with them
because we seem them used to organize editorial projects on a regular basis. That’s because
structures like grids (used in both the web page at top and the newspaper below) are closely
related to typography, and so, extremely useful for organizing text and images (see chapter
5, shown here). Still, the grid sturctures here are used very differently. In the web page, the
presence of the square module dominates (it’s more apparently grid-like). In the newspaper,
content—including images—is organized to emphasize the horizontal, creating a rhythm of
darker and lighter bands from top to bottom.
STUDIO BLUE / UNITED STATES ↑
E-TYPES / DENMARK ↓
Considering potential structural relationships one might use for layout (and even seeing
them) in the context of complex, organic material can be very challenging. Cases in point—
the LP cover above, and the frames of the motion graphic below. A first step is to identify the
basic geometry of the forms involved: in the album cover, the butter-flies and the mountain
shapes are, most basically, triangles of different proportion; in the motion graphic,
splattery dots are accompanied by horizontal lines (the type). Describing the structure in
each project then becomes easier. The album cover uses a combination of diagonal, zigzag,
and stacking structures, while the elements in the motion graphic are always arranged
along diagonal axes which generally cross each other.
FLORENCE TÉTIER / FRANCE ↑
DAEUN KO / UNITED STATES ↓
Structure: Spatial Division A designer may also establish a superstructure
by organizing forms’ contours and axes such that they break a format’s
space into major intervals based on fractions of the format’s proportions.
There are a number of proportional systems to which designers in various
cultures have turned throughout history; many of them are mathematical
and appear most often in architecture, but in painting and sculpture as well.
Because a spatial proportioning system is dependent on the specific format,
and the specific forms for a particular project, it’s a good idea to work from
the relationships one can discover by intuitively testing layout variations
with the actual material in question: format divisions and image or form
structures will need to correspond to each other very specifically. It’s
possible, of course, to begin with a mathematical, intellectualized approach
based on desirable relationships. But a danger lies in the potential for some
material to not fit so well—making it appear indecisive or disconnected—
or, worse, creating static, rigid interplay between positive and negative that
is stiff, awkward, or otherwise limiting.

The Law of Thirds A simplified mathematical approach divides any format into thirds (le to
right or top to bottom) under the assumption that the intersection of these axes will be
points of visual focus. As a format’s proportions become more exaggerated relative to each
other, so too do those of the thirds produced. While dividing a format into thirds presents an
intrinsically symmetrical structure, the two axes that define the symmetry also provide a
very asymmetrical proportional system of one-third relative to two-thirds.
Musical Logic The intervals between musical notes or chords—the octave established by the
seven unique tonal pitches in Western music—have been used by book designers to create
page divisions since the Middle Ages. Similarly to pitch intervals, the rhythmic or thematic
structure attributed to structure musical compositions can be applied to the distances
between elements in a layout: ABA, for example, or ABAC, in which A is one measurement, B
another, and so on.

Mathematical Logic Any numeric progression or fractional relationship can be a starting

point for creating spatial divisions—odd-number ratios (1:3:5:7), for example, or perhaps a
system of halves (1:2:4:8:16), as shown in the first example. The second example shows a
grid system based on a common prime number, 3. A 13th century Italian mathematician,
Leonardo Fibonacci, discovered a natural progression of numbers in which each number is
the sum of the preceding two—for example, 1:1:2:3:5:8:13:21:34, and so on. Coincidentally,
this same proportional relationship is what drives the golden section.
The Golden Section First implemented in a design context by Greek sculptors and architects,
the golden section focuses on the relationship of a square and the rectangle that will be
defined from it by using a line drawn from the square’s corner to the midpoint of its bottom
edge. Dividing this new rectangular area by the width of its short side creates a new square
and rectangle in the same proportions as the originals; and this division may be repeated
over and over again in decreasing size. By connecting the corners of the squares with
circular arcs, the spiral that is present in the formation of nautilus shells is magically
revealed.
In the context of static printed pages, spatial divisions remain fixed and, so, easily
appreciable. In the context of a typical web page, however, establishing a clear proportional
structure is challenging because the browser can be resized; and further, top-to-bottom
breaks are constantly in flux as the viewer scrolls down the page. Le -to-right spatial
divisions—anchored by vertically aligning forms’ axes—become more important, therefore,
to establish recognizable proportional relationships.
The projects shown here each employ a radically different proportional structure. The
poster above emphasizes a set of vertical divisions whose depth measures increase
exponentially from compressed at bottom to expansive at top. In the web page below it,
space is also apparently broken in a progression from narrow to wide (le to right) but the
proportions of those breaks are based on a square module, expressed by the angle form in
the client’s logo. In the brochure further below, the proportions are based on those of the
Golden Section.
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES ↑
ESIETE / SPAIN ↓
VOICE / AUSTRALIA ↓↓
All three of these projects—the brochure spread at top, the book cover below, le , and the
magazine ad below, right—divide space into thirds (in the case of the brochure spread, that
happens on each of the two pages).
ASCEND STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM ↑
ASTRID STAVRO / SPAIN ↓
PEOPLEDESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓↓
Near and Far In addition to side-by-side (lateral) arrangements, a designer
may create structure in illusory space by defining elements as existing in a
foreground, middleground, and background. Usually, the field or ground is
perceived as existing deeper in space, or farther away, and positive elements
as closer—but placing forms that are reversed (made negative, or the same
value as the field or format space) on top of positive forms, will move them
into the foreground. The relative size of forms in the perceptual field is
usually the quickest determination the brain can make and then interpret;
larger objects appear closer and smaller objects as farther away. Hence, a
good starting strategy is to enforce differences in size. Overlapping forms
also optically positions them nearer or farther away from the viewer. The
designer may increase this sense of depth by changing the forms’ relative
values (their lightness or darkness), and by making them transparent. The
seeming nearness or distance of each form will also contribute to the
viewer’s sense of its importance and, therefore, its meaning relative to other
forms presented within the same space.
The quality of a space’s spread (see here) o en contributes to a sense of its depth. Fields,
like the one shown at top, tend more o en to be perceived as having greater depth, because
we associate expansive space with that we see in the physical environment. Singularities,
like the bottom example, typically register as flatter… of course, the nature of the material
and its contrasts can reverse those conditions.
The apparent depth of a space generally increases when there are a range of tonal values—
and the wider the range, the deeper the space will seem. Conversely, a minimal tonal range
will generally compress a space’s amplitude (or, more simply, flatten it out).
A difference in the relative size of form elements will immediately introduce the perception
of depth into a composition. Larger forms typically appear to advance, while smaller ones
appear to recede. Changing the relative values of forms will similarly contribute to the
perception that they are closer or further away.
Allowing one form to cross in front of another, even if both are the same color, will create
the illusion of foreground and background. Introducing size changes among forms that
overlap, as well as changes in their relative values—or, for that matter, placing negative
forms on top of positive—will greatly enhance the illusion that the forms exist within three-
dimensional space.
The use of transparency in a cluster enhances the illusion of their apparent existence in
three-dimensional space. Carefully considering which elements appear solidly positive or
negative (and which appear transparent) can create startling conflicts in apparent spatial
position.
When forms within the compositional space appear to “bleed” the format—that is, are
cropped off by the edge of the format—they imply a much bigger composition extending
outward into the real world.
Linear forms, in particular, tend to focus attention on the surface, primarily because they
tend to be perceived as being inscribed. That’s clearly the case with the imagery on this beer
case; and its flatness is augmented by the stark contrast in value (lightness/darkness)
between the linear forms and the background. Interestingly, however, the more space
bteween groupings of line elements, the deeper that space seems to be.
MANUAL / UNITED STATES
The tremendous amount of negative space enhances the illusion of deep space achieved by
dramatic differences in the sizes and weights of the forms in this brochure cover. The large
diagonal line appears closest—but this directness is thrown into question by the clever
overlap of the small text element which, if positioned freely, would appear unquestionably
to recede.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
In these panels that form part of an exhibition space, the designers make startling use of
opacity, transparency, and scale change to exaggerate the space’s physical dimensionality
and, at the same time, create an ambiguously flattened space in which type elements that
are farther away appear to sit on the same surface as others that are physically closer.
NAROSKA DESIGN / GERMANY

In these brochure spreads—and, in complete contradiction to the way they work in the
packaging, opposite (by the same designers)—lines introduce the perception of greater,
albeit more ambiguous, depth. The visually heavy inset images already establish strong
foreground presence in relation to the lighter, textural typography; the transparent, colored
lines establish an indeterminate middle ground.
MANUAL / UNITED STATES
Movement It’s generally considered desirable to create a sense of
movement, or kinesis, among elements in a two-dimensional presentation.
Like illusory depth, the perception of illusory movement counters the
physical flatness of a printed page; it imparts the sense that form elements
are active, alive, or vital, and encourages viewers’ engagement. We
perceive a sensation of movement from three primary aspects of forms in
space: the axial directions of form elements’ contours, creating paths the
eye will travel (around individual elements and then, between them); the
overall arrangement of forms whose superstructure also creates a directional
path for the eye to follow as it jumps from one to the next; and the spatial
intervals between form elements themselves, which generates the
appearance of push and pull between the forms. The specific kinetic quality
we appreciate in a composition contributes to our understanding of its
content: a falling motion versus a rising one; or slow and methodical
movement versus that perceived as rapid and irregular. The perception of a
particular kind of movement corroborates ideas that forms visualize.

Even shi ing a single element off center will cause it to be perceived as having moved.
Any element that is rotated away from orthogonal orientation will be perceived as moving,
or kinetic, especially if it can be compared to any orthogonally oriented forms.

Forms that bleed the format, or overlap each other, are usually perceived as moving.

The sense of a sequence of animation occurs when forms change size, proportion, value,
and/or orientation, either alternating between states or progressing from one state to
another—especially along a consistent axis.

The accordion-fold brochure above and the book page spread below both establish a strong
horizontal axis across their respective formats; the sensation of movement occurs because
of how rectangular forms of different scales push upward and drop below that static axis.
GARBETT / AUSTRALIA ↑
L2M3 KOMMUNIKATIONSDESIGN GMBH / GERMANY ↓
Lines of increasing weight, oriented in angled increments around a fixed, central point,
create the illusion of a circular rotation in this logo for an airline.
MANUAL / UNITED STATES
Rhythm Superstructure and axis relationships create movement based on
direction—paths the eye will follow through the forms—but it’s the spatial
intervals between them that most dramatically characterizes the quality of
the perceived movement. Placing forms closer together squeezes the spaces
between them; positioning forms away from each other does the opposite;
and the result is a visual “pulsing,” or rhythm. The organization of forms
should establish a clear, decisive visual tempo across the format: how much,
how often, and where alternate sensations of compression and expansion
appear among the layout’s positive and negative parts. As with structure
and movement, the nature of a particular rhythm contributes to the totality
of its logic, and will evoke varying degrees of energy or restfulness. A
clear, dramatic rhythm is important not only for visual interest, but also for
delivering emotional or conceptual messages. Compositional rhythm alone
accounts for much of an audience’s immediate interpretation: stability or
uncertainty, for instance, or frenzy or restfulness, precision or
disorganization, growth or decline.
Compositional rhythm may follow such laterally emphasized logic as alternation (top),
where positive/negative proportions flip between compressed and open states; rhythmic
progressions (middle) are those in which the interval differences transition from one state
to another (for example, from tight or compressed to open or expansive). Another
possibility is opposition, where one general area expresses a singular, specific rhythm in
contrast to that expressed by another area (bottom).
Figure/ground reversal may create the same alternation, progression, or opposition in
rhythm—not only laterally, but also with the appearance of moving backward or forward.
Value changes among elements in foreground, middle ground, and background may
accomplish a similar effect.
—
It’s useful to note that a particular arrangement structure itself will produce an inherent
rhythm; you can see how that happens in different ways among the examples of structure
shown here.
Follow the contours of the individual forms in this poster—those of the figures and of the
typographic elements—and take note of two different rhythmic movements: one in which
the outer contours push inward toward the center and then outward to the edges at
changing intervals; and another in which major horizontal spatial breaks progress from
more tightly compressed at the top to more open toward the bottom.
CONOR & DAVID / IRELAND
The brochure here balances lateral rhythm created by linear subdivisions of space from le
to right (alternations between full, half, and quarter widths) with up/down rhythm created
by alternation of light and dark color blocks.
MANUAL / UNITED STATES
Format Considerations Designers sometimes get to choose the format
proportions for projects but, more often than not, the format is
predetermined—either it follows some standard or convention for what it is,
the client needs for it to fit an existing folder or display case, or simply to
meet budget constraints. In these cases, the format will somewhat force the
designer’s hand—their strategies for organizing content forms must respond
to limitations that the format imposes. As briefly noted, different format
proportions generate very specific spatial effects (shown here); whatever it
turns out to be will likely present challenges in achieving the kinds of
structure, movement, or rhythm a designer determines will best suit the
given content. So be it! Really practical problems such as this come with
the territory and so, at the outset of any project, it’s important that a
designer carefully consider the format’s characteristics (especially if it’s one
that can change, like a responsive web page) to proactively assess what
effects they may have in relation to the content.
Circular formats, like discs or the lids of canisters, present several options for organizing
material (especially type): either ignoring the circularity in favor of a unidirectional, “page”
oriented approach (A); multiaxis orientation that responds to the circle’s “spin” (B); or
structures that directly derive from the circle—either radial or concentric (C).
The designers of these three projects took advantage of the format limitations (or
possibilities) inherent in each to arrive at inventive solutions. The designs of the ticket and
signage at top seamlessly integrate the client’s logo into the standard proportions of each
application; the paintbrush packaging, above, uses its format to humorous effect; and the
bookmark at right is cleverly made to do double-duty as a business card simply by folding it.
MOLTOBUREAU / GERMANY ↑
BANG BANG / CANADA ↓
GARBETT / AUSTRALIA ↓↓
This deep-scrolling web page makes dramatic use of spatial breaks, along with variations in
lateral emphasis, value, and scale to overcome potential rhythmic monotony sometimes
encountered in such a format.
YOUJIN CHOI / UNITED STATES

The rounded corners of this fish-packaging tray no doubt influenced its designer’s choice,
given the similarly rounded corners of the client’s logo; that element is further brought to
attention by the reverse-curved die-cuts in the paper wrapper.
FUMAN / NEW ZEALAND
The gutter between le - and right-hand pages in a book spread are typically a “danger
zone” that type and important components of imagery should try to avoid to minimize
distractions or loss of information. Here, the designers realize that large type can easily
cross the gutter without trouble, creating a single, expansive space (top); and that the
gutter can enhance the relationship between figures in an image (bottom).
HUNGRY STUDIO (SK) / SLOVAKIA
Glass bottles and other similar transparent containers present interesting opportunities to
integrate graphical material from front to back.
LUMINOUS DESIGN GROUP / GREECE
 COMPOSITIONAL STRATEGIES

The Goal of Totality The cornerstone of every effective visual

communication (after a compelling concept or narrative) is a dynamic
presentation of its content, accomplished through decisive control of the
relationships among form elements. It’s impossible to understate the
importance of creating a strong composition. The clarity, confidence, and
rich interrelationship of elements that define a composition as successful
contribute, first and foremost, to attracting—and then holding—the
audience’s attention. And that’s critical for ensuring the content is explored
long enough to be understood. A lack of visual, and thus cognitive,
investigation is also likely to become difficult to recall later on. Second, the
strong resolution of a composition contributes to its ability to persuade its
audience; appreciating its totality effectively removes our wariness of being
manipulated: Similar to what happens when watching a film, we suspend
our disbelief and the message becomes incontestable.

The projects shown here all achieve a sense of compositional totality by focusing on very
specific aspects of visual syntax and grammar (form identity, proportion, axes, and scale)
that repeat in variation from part to part. The repetition unifies the compositional
components; their variation introduces liveliness.
METAKLINIKA / SERBIA ↑
IDEAS ON PURPOSE / UNITED STATES ↓
ASCEND STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM ↓↓
PEOPLEDESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓↓↓
A successful composition exhibits contrast among its parts, even while
establishing visual continuity among their behaviors; it further creates
synergy between the syntax and grammar that makes it up. All these
interconnections, together, serve to order the material in an understandable
sequence, or hierarchy, so that the viewer knows where and how to enter the
communication, proceed through it in a logical and intuitive way, and make
deeper connections as they do so. Last, but certainly not least, a successful
composition, in all its aspects, contributes to the more important goal a
designer hopes to achieve—the creation of meaning. It’s important to
realize that the compositional relationships that hold everything together on
a visual level also remind us of other experiences: they carry information, in
and of themselves, beyond that which is explicitly presented in the content
of images or of words. Structure, gesture, spatial quality, movement, and
rhythm of different kinds add understanding that is just as valuable as what
one may identify concretely.

In contrast to the projects shown just prior, all those shown here integrate radically different
form syntaxes and behaviors to achieve totality. In each case, one or more kinds of such
conflict are expressed and resolved by emphasizing their differences very clearly: continuity
of surface versus discontinuity; texture versus plane; geometry versus organicism; linearity
versus planarity; diagonality versus orthogonality; so veruss hard; and two-
dimensionality versus three-dimensionality (whether physical or strictly perceptual).
VON K BRAND DESIGN STUDIO / AUSTRIA ↑
GORRICHO / ARGENTINA ↓
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES ↓↓
SELF-TITLED / AUSTRALIA ↓↓↓
Activating Space During the process of composing form within a given
space, portions of space might become disconnected from other portions. A
section might be separated physically or blocked off by a larger element
that crosses from one edge of the format to the other; or it might be
optically separated because of a set of forms aligning in such a way that the
eye is discouraged from traveling past the alignment and entering into the
space beyond. Focusing the majority of visual activity into one area of a
composition—for example, by clustering—is an excellent way of creating
emphasis and a contrasting area for rest. But this strategy might also result
in spaces that feel empty or isolated from this activity. In all such cases, the
space can be called “inert” or “inactive.” An inert or inactive space will call
attention to itself for this very reason: It doesn’t communicate with the other
spaces in the composition. To activate these spaces means to cause them to
enter back into their dialogue with the other spaces in the composition.

The diagonal line in the upper composition separates a triangular space from the remainder
of the format; this space disconnects from the composition and is deactivated.
By ending the line short of the format edge, even minimally, the eye is encouraged to travel
optically around its ending point and join the two spaces together, activating and relating
them to each other.

In this example, a line once again intersects the format, but, because there is an overlap of
shape connecting the spaces on either side of the line, both spaces are activated.
Because the arrangement of these forms creates an optical alignment that, while open to
the space at the top of the composition, stops the movement of the eye begun in the lower
part, this same space now appears inert.

In contrast, a simple shi of one element to violate this invisible alignment helps invigorate
the formerly inactive space.
The degree of spatial activation in various parts of this composition differs because of the
changing proximity and tension between forms… as well as from differences in how the
various forms confront each other—some overlapping and decreasing tension, some
aggressively opposing each other in direction or contrasting curve and angle.
Although the gigantic pink exclamation point—created by the line and the letter K—is
strong, it is surrounded by relatively static spaces of the same interval, value, and color.
This static quality is broken by the brass ball, a dot, which very decisively is not centered
and activates the space defined by the floor.
MUTABOR / GERMANY
The negative spaces in this brochure spread are already somewhat active simply by virtue of
how its designer has shi ed the blocks of text back and forth, generating spatial intervals
that change in proportion and size; in addition, small graphical circles have been printed in
a clear varnish to further activate vast negative spaces by introducing a change in surface
texture.
ASCEND STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM
On the text side of this business card, the spaces are all activated with content. On the image
side, the light, transparent blue wave shape activates the space above the purple wave; the
line of white type activates the spaces within the purple wave area.
MONIGLE ASSOCIATES / UNITED STATES
The space that would have been most in danger of becoming inactive is that at the bottom of
this collage, defined by the baseline of the text block and the barcode; the hand, crossing
that boundary, easily solved that problem. Also note the vertical column of space to the far
right; it too has been made active by allowing the small numeral to break into it.
KENICHI TENAKA / JAPAN
Establishing Unity In the simplest sense, a designer’s basic compositional
goal is to make sure all the aspects of the visual language are “talking to
each other” in similar ways, sharing characteristics, even though its parts
are likely to be fundamentally different (geometric shapes, organic
photographs, type): Think of a layout’s composition like it’s a chorus of
singers, some of whom are following the same melody, while others are
singing harmonies; the harmonies provide some difference (contrast) in
tone or rhythm but, even so, the harmonies share a lot with the melody itself
so all become one, inseparable sound. It’s that inseparable quality that’s so
tricky: How do you make elements that are radically different from each
other feel similar? Here’s where recognizing the underlying form identity of
each element (regardless of what it is) becomes so important—a designer
has to identify similarities among them and, through whatever means
possible, emphasize them. That similarity, or parity, must then extend to
structure (within forms and between them), spatial organization, and
rhythm. That means looking at part-to-whole relationships.

Identifying similarities in form identity among the elements in a composition is likely the
most direct means of establishing unity among parts. Dot-like, linear, and shape similarities
may be found between graphical elements, type clusters, and within the visual components
of complex images.
Similarities in the way elements are scaled, positioned, overlapped, grouped, or
directionally oriented—and the kinds of movement or rhtyhm these conditions create—will
help unify the experience even if the form elements themselves exhibit no appreciable
parity. Repeating a compositional gesture found in a single element (like an inset image)
with surrounding elements is another useful strategy.

Repeating a particular kind of structural organization (see here) between groups of

elements—perhaps at different scales, or along different axes—creates unity while
simultaneously introducing contrast. As with formal and gestural strategies, a designer may
find it helpful to restate a structural formation inside an isolated element with other
material.
Riffing on texture or pattern seen in a particular image being used, either by literally
repeating it or abstracting it and introducing it independently is yet another option.
Because type is, in essence, a texture (see here), considering how it is spaced, and even the
stylistic details in the chosen font, offers another means of establishing unity beyond that
among purely graphic or image-based forms.

The individual layouts on each of the pages of this magazine spread are quite different: one
creates an inward-focused cluster with a stepped outer contour; the other creates a
horizontal band shape with irregular contours along the bottom. Unifying their
compositions is their response to the respective pages’ center axes.
BUREAU MIRKO BORSCHE+ANNA MEYER / GERMANY
This website’s modular, square-based structure—for images and text areas—combines with
the repeated use of graphic, linear bars and bar-like highlighting around text for a unified,
geometric quality in all its parts. This geometry also appears in the background pattern
that underlies all of the foreground material.
STUDIO BLUE / UNITED STATES
Macro and Micro One can conceive of the primary part-to-whole
relationship as the “big picture” created by the basic gesture, the
superstructure, in relation to the format. This basic relationship may then be
restated by the form elements and their behaviors within the superstructure
(at a smaller scale, perhaps, or in a different proportion). Designers refer to
the whole as the macro-level of composition, and to the secondary,
component parts as the micro-level. The idea of unity, therefore, may be
understood in two ways: first, in which the macro-level lends its qualities
to, or influences, compositional relationships downward in greater
specificity or variation on the micro-level; and second, as a set of individual
micro-compositions that together create the macro—sort of like a fractal.
Parts within the whole may simply restate each other, but they may also
contrast each other (and often do, or must) to prevent monotony. The
intrinsic properties of the form elements can be a source for both micro- and
macro-level compositional unity and, as a result, create direct synergy
between formal qualities and compositional qualities.
The dominant visual elements in this poster are the stylized clouds, whose rounded
contours and sharp junctures are echoed by the extra-bold, serif typeface of the name
“Copland,” whose letters mimic the up-and-down movement of the clouds’ contours. The
faintly tinted, textural flower image is suggested by the textural and linear qualities of the
sans-serif secondary text.
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES
In this website, the designer counters bold, regular spatial breaks—used to separate fields of
information—with irregular, side-to-side movement. This gesture derives from the helical
quality of the navigation buttons at the le , creating an abstract metaphor for DNA and
genetics.
JUNE KIM / UNITED STATES
Macro-level elements like the colored circular arcs establish more subtle relationships with
micro-level elements in this brochure: they restate the curve of the gymnast’s legs and the
frames of the swimmer’s goggles. Confrontations between curves and angles are suggested
in the slashed zero of “2024.”
CLASSMATE STUDIO / HUNGARY
Compositional Contrast Creating areas of differing presence or quality—
what is known as contrast—is crucial for a successful composition.
Opposing visual states are what keep viewers from getting bored while
looking; they impart vitality (along with depth, movement, and rhythm) to
ensure that viewers remain engaged as they analyze the content which the
designer puts before them. Contrast also helps viewers distinguish between
different kinds of content, making it easier to navigate. While there are
perhaps thousands of individual contrasting relationships that a designer
might integrate within a single format space, from that of form identity to
organization, the contrasts typically used the most (and that offer the most
immediate impact), are those of scale (large versus small), spacing or
density (compressed versus open), and value (how overall light or dark
disparate areas appear). Establishing these contrasts first, whether to
extremes or more subtly, sets up all the others. Each kind of contrast a
designer presents between elements can also serve to corroborate or evolve
the meaning that they present.

In the page spread above, repeating intervals are defined by vertical lines, evenly spaced to
define a column structure. Images and text provide a counterpoint of irregularity. In the
menu cover, just below, line contrasts plane, and organic curves contrast angles;
foreground and background are brought into tension by the lines’ continuity through the
image area. The poster that follows contrasts dots against the linear geometry of the
letterforms, and texture against hard edges. Lastly, the gestural movement, heavy mass,
and irregularity of the imagery contrasts the geometric structure, delicate texture, and
lighter mass of the text.
SPIN / UNITED KINGDOM ↑
GRETEL / UNITED STATES ↓
STUDIO INTERNATIONAL / CROATIA ↓↓
MUNDA GRAPHICS / AUSTRALIA ↓↓↓
Tension While the term contrast applies to relationships between specific
elements, there will likely be different kinds of contrast, or variations within
a specific kind of contrast, among forms and spaces in the same field—a
sort of contrast between contrasts (it’s complicated!), or what is known as
tension. A composition with strong contrast between round and angular
forms in one area, opposed by another area where all the forms are similarly
angular, exhibits a tension in angularity; a composition that contrasts areas
of dense, active line rhythms with areas that are generally more open and
regular exhibits tension in rhythm. The term tension can also describe a
perceived feeling of anxiety or stress—not necessarily in a negative way,
but in terms of visual emphasis. For example, there may be an instance in
which the corner of an angular plane comes extremely close to a format
edge at one location, but is relatively free of the edge in another; the first
location could be said to feel “tense,” or exhibit a tense relationship, while
the second location might be perceived as less tense or relaxed.

In this composition, the edge relationships offer one kind of tension within the space, some
more aggressive and others less so. At the same time, the edge relationships of angular
forms create tension relative to the open, sweeping forms of the curved elements; a similar
change in tension occurs between the line elements—which are themselves angular, but in
the foreground—and the angular plane surface—which appears as a background element.
Both angled plane and lines contrast with each other in identity and apparent spatial
position but complement each other’s sharp, geometric qualities. This attribute is yet
another type of tension.
In this ad, starkly contrasting visual syntax (circular and organic planes, rectangular
planes, continuous tone washes of color, bold patterns, solid forms and volumetric ones)
interact in different combinations at each location, and o en in different ways: overlap
versus separation, confrontation of multiple syntaxes versus only two, and alignment
versus nonalignment.
ESTUDIO PÁNICO / ECUADOR
The primary relationship of contrast in this poster is that between hard, geometric
angularity and free-form, curvilinear gesture. Tension in this relationship appears in the
varied ways that the curves of the large yellow form interact with angled forms: at some
points, dramatically swooping around or crossing through them; at others, coming into
close proximity or anchoring to them
TOORMIX / SPAIN
Contrast in Symmetry Asymmetrical arrangements of material
intrinsically involve a variety of contrasts that provoke rigorous optical and
intellectual involvement; in so doing, they may improve the ability to
differentiate, catalogue, and recall content because the viewer’s
investigation of visual (especially spatial) differences is simultaneously tied
to the ordering, or cognition, of the content itself. Symmetry’s overall
restfulness and uniformity, on the other hand, can be problematic relative to
the goals of designed communication. Without a variety or exaggerated
degree of contrast to consider, the viewer is likely to gloss over material and
quickly come to an intellectual rest, rather than investigate a work more
intently. To counteract these conditions in symmetrical compositions, it’s
most helpful to exaggerate contrasts among elements (in scale, proportion,
density, and interval rhythm) in relation to the central axis around which
they’re arranged.

When symmetrically organized forms become so large that they are clearly bigger thanany
remaining symmetrical spaces, their confrontation with the format becomes very tense,
reducing the composition’s overall static quality.
Radical changes in size among elements, or in their relative lightness and darkness, helps
enhance the illusion of deep space and, therefore, reorders the lateral movement typical of
symmetrical arrangements dimensionally—that is, movement becomes perceived as
occurring from near to far.

When attempting to ensure adequate contrast in a symmetrical configuration, it’s important

to exaggerate the differences in relative width of elements toward the axis and away from it
(as well as clearly define a logic of progressions or alternations); of equal importance is the
distance between forms as they travel along the axis from beginning to end.
Another strategy for introducing contrast is to juxtapose dramatically different emphases in
proportion, among form elements themselves or the spaces that separate them—or both.
Changes in various elements’ weights and sizes, and alternating distribution of material
across the center axis, add vitality to these symmetrical page layouts.
VRUCHTFLEES / NETHERLANDS
Visual Hierarchy Ultimately, compositional structures and contrasts have
to do more than just create a compelling visual experience. The most
dynamic layout becomes a hot mess if viewers don’t know where to start
looking, what elements are the most important, or how to get from one
place to another. In addition to attracting viewers’ attention, designers have
to apply their compositional decisions to help viewers navigate by creating
a pattern they can dissect and follow—what is called a hierarchy. Here is
where form and the content it represents become inseparable: The form
element that is meaningfully most important must be seen first. Designers
help viewers discover this element—the primary, or “top” level of the
hierarchy—as a starting point by making its visual qualities different
enough from the others (the secondary level) so that the viewer is able to
focus on it. Creating other contrasts is still important, but the designer must
be really careful with how he or she applies them to whatever is intended to
be seen second, then third, and so on. The distinction between “important”
and “not important” is the first idea a viewer will understand.
When an element in a visual field disconnects from the others, it becomes a focal point and,
therefore, assumes the greatest level of importance. Although there are other kinds of
contrast evident in the secondary material, the extreme degree to which the primary
element disconnects diminishes the effect of these contrasts.
Contrast in relative size (large versus small) and relative spacing (or density and openness)
account for the most effective ways to establish a clear hierarchy. These two contrasts, as
expressions of purely positive/negative interaction, affect our sense of the format being
divided into darker and lighter areas. This effect is enhanced through the use of actual value
change—changing elements from solid positives to middle tones of gray.
Relationships of proximity can help separate—and so distinguish—or join, and thereby
relate, elements. In separating the main levels of this hierarchy, the radical distinction
among levels by large spaces allows for the creation of similar, but smaller-scale, hierarchies
within each level.
Repetition assigns relative meaning to elements that will be understood as related, no
matter where they occur within the visual field—even if separated by material that is clearly
different. Hierarchy, in addition to being strictly about level of importance, is also about
relation or establishing which elements are alike in meaning (whether they are important or
not).
—
In general, form elements that exhibit formal parity (more simply, those that are visually
similar) will be perceived as being meaningfully related; elements that are visually different
will be perceived to be meaningfully unrelated.
Compositional flow, sometimes called “eye path,” occurs as a viewer compares each
hierarchic level’s degree of contrast from the others and senses the difference as a decrease
in optical resistance (another way of thinking about contrast, incidentally). The eye will
move from area of greatest overall contrast to less, following a predetermined direction that
the designer can support by positioning axes to help direct or by using graphical forms to
point.
Relationships of value, or dark-to-light contrast, play a dramatic role in establishing
hierarchy—especially when it comes to type. Following the notion of optical disconnection
described at far le , elements that are similar in value will visually join into groups or
levels, while those that exhibit the greatest contrast in value (compared to other such
contrasts) will differentiate.
—
The relative value of the field defines the value conditions of the elements within it that are
needed to create a hierarchy: If the field is overall light in value (top), each successively
darker element will become increasingly important; the opposite is true if the field is of
relatively dark value (bottom).
The hierarchy in this poster is relatively complex, divided into three major levels, as
diagrammed below.
ROBERT MCCONNELL / UNITED STATES
The design of this exhibition gallery display window incorporates spatial effects imposed by
its architecture to achieve a compelling, multilayered optical experience and, at the same
time, support a clear hierarchy.
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES
The first level consists of the titling text, the two large dots, and the horizontal train image.
The dots, while light in value, are large enough in the field that they seem related to the
title’s mass; the train is the only bold-weight element that spans the format from le to
right.
The second level comprises the date and subway car information, and the row of bold dots:
these are the elements next in size to be appreciated that repeat the line/dot relationship
first encountered at the top of the hierarchy.
The third level is made up of the elements that are the smallest in scale, as well as the most
textural; they also are positioned along the periphery of the format. That said, a reader may
link the text at far le with the massive dot form, perceiving it ahead of other elements
within this level of the hierarchy.
No matter the viewing angle or time of day, the name of the designer, Armin Hofmann, is the
first level of the hierarchy, together with the bold red elements that form the Swiss cross;
these are the simplest, most easily differentiated elements, compared to the visual
complexity elsewhere that results from cast shadows. One shadow, however—the horizontal
one cast by the window frame—acts as a bold underscore to the white name.
—
Although the text at lower right should, theoretically, be appreciated second, that area’s
visual complexity also renders the date information at far le the second level in the
hierarchy.
The Foundations of Meaning The syntax and grammar of a visual
language that a designer chooses for a designed communication initiate the
understanding of meaning at the most fundamental level. Abstract forms
carry meaning because we associate them with concrete experiences, and
we understand different ones as meaning different things because they are
literally different. The abstract qualities of forms within pictorial images
similarly suggest relationships in meaning between the subjects they each
depict. And the arrangement of forms, and the optical superstructures they
create, set up a general context, a frame of reference, that will influence
viewers’ understanding of every content element encountered, no matter
how literal it happens to be. It follows, then, that designers must
strategically develop compositions in concert with all other considerations
noted thus far in order to convey relevant messages. It’s a huge can of
worms, wrapped up in the perceptual psychology of form and meaning in
images (or, semiotics, discussed in-depth in chapter 4), but it can not be
ignored with regard to the very basics of visual language.

Different use of grid-based structure results in different interpretations: In the poster above,
le , the grid units and their images are different in size and fit together to create a puzzle
pattern, inviting comparison and emphasizing differences in their respective meanings. In
the poster, above right, the ordering is repetitive and even, imparting a mathematical,
analytical, structural quality.
BARNBROOK / UNITED KINGDOM ↑
L2M3 KOMMUNIKATIONSDESIGN GMBH / GERMANY ↓

Together with the irregular, textural rhythm of the larger-scale type elements, the shuffling
of text columns up and down imparts a tenuous, uncertain quality to this book’s layout.
THOMAS CSANO / CANADA
Rhythmic misalignment of vertical strokes, together with size changes among the letters of
a book’s title (above le ) creates a jostling anxiety that captures the essence of its meaning.
In the cover above right, the clustered arrangement of forms (also type) isolates one—
similarly concretizing the title and creating a pictorial experience.
TRIBORO DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↑
JESSIE GANG / UNITED STATES ↓
When an audience first confronts a visual communication, they appreciate
its totality (or gestalt) and then begin dissecting it to follow a particular
conceptual and emotional path. Every kind of decision the designer makes
at this level has implications: the forms are organic or geometric; the
structure is regimented, irregular, classical, or revolution-ary; edge
proximities will induce comfort or anxiety; the intervals may repeat with
certainty or change discordantly; the space is perceived either as ethereally
deep or analytically compressed and focused. Any of these qualities, in any
combination, may be useful at any given time. The designer must carefully
consider the purely visual aspects of form and space side by side with the
goal of evoking the right feeling or association that will underscore and
enhance whatever complex, higher-level messages are to be found within
the content.

Graphical lines—arranged in irregular, waving sequences and appearing to pulse as they

change weight—suggest sounds and signals, a relevant basis for the identity of a
telecommunications provider.
BR/BAUEN / BRAZIL
The dots in these projects take on meaningful identities through composition: The large,
yellow dot in the poster above creates a warm, central “space” that radiates a “diagram” of
experiences to be found within it; viewers will appreciate the red dots on the brochure cover,
next image, as a random scattering of golf balls; the densely patterned grid of dots on the
cover of the financial report, last image, calls to mind pixels and data; overlayed dots create
pulsing among different areas to suggest the interplay of market forces.
LESLEY MOORE / NETHERLANDS ↑
MUTABOR / GERMANY ↓
UNA (AMSTERDAM) DESIGNERS / NETHERLANDS ↓↓
 COLOR FUNDAMENTALS

If one says “red” and there are fi y people listening, it can be expected
that there will be fi y reds in their minds. And all these reds will be
very different. Colors present themselves in continuous flux,
constantly related to changing neighbors and changing conditions.
JOSEF ALBERS / Artist, visual theorist, and educator; from Interaction of Color, Yale University
Press

IN THIS CHAPTER:
THE IDENTITY OF COLOR
Color is really another part of visual language, along with form and space, but it deserves its own
chapter because it’s so complex, mysterious, and challenging for many people. First up: the
physics of how we perceive light and interpret what our eyes do with it to identify color’s basic
attributes.

CHROMATIC INTERACTION
We never see colors in isolation. That means every color we perceive always interacts with
others…and radically changes as a result. This section shows how visual relationships among
colors (which combinations, how much of each, and variations in their relative qualities) alter our
experience of them.

COLOR LOGIC AND SYSTEMS

Just like relationships among forms, those among colors establish a specific visual logic—one
that designers define in selecting a set of colors (a palette) for a particular project. How do you
build a rich palette with a clear logic? And how do you use it effectively to unify a
communication’s various parts?

WHEN COLOR MEANS SOMETHING

Color conveys information and ideas. As subjective as color preference and interpretation can be,
the meaning that color transmits can be (somewhat) reliably directed by cueing general
associations—some, purely biological; and others that are cultural, experiential, psychological,
and symbolic.
COLOR IN THE REAL WORLD
Most design work takes place on a computer but, aside from screen-based applications, color is
likely to be experienced through physical means—in the form of printed matter, packaging, and
fabricated environments. This section addresses important color considerations in technology
and production.
 THE IDENTITY OF COLOR

What Color Is In the simplest terms, we experience color because light is

one kind of electromagnetic energy, in the form of particles that move in
waves, which does certain things when it hits physical objects. A given
object’s chemical/molecular make-up absorbs some of the lights’ energy,
but not all of it; the rest either bounces off the object’s surfaces (reflection)
and often splits into multiple, differing wavelengths (refraction). The cells
that line the backs of our eyes direct different wavelengths that enter our
eyes along specific neural pathways to be individually interpreted by our
brains; each color we see represents a very specific wavelength of light. The
mechanism of color perception is universal among humans but, being
processed through imperfect organs (the eyes) by an imperfect interpreter
(the brain), that perception is profoundly subjective. Even more
complicated: People from different backgrounds associate colors
differently; even though we all may agree we see “red,” what we’ll each
think about it is another thing altogether. Controlling color reliably for
communication first depends on understanding its optical qualities and how
they work.

HUE
A distinction between color identities as defined by their wavelengths: The hue on the le is
blue-green; the one to the right is orange.

Above & below: A single color is defined by four essential qualities related to our perception
of its essential nature as waves of light.

SATURATION
The relative brightness or dullness of a color: The swatch on the le is bright, or vivid; the
swatch to its right is dull, or “grayed out.”

VALUE
Whether a color appears dark or light: The swatch to the le is darker in value than the one
to its right.

TEMPERATURE
A color’s perceived warmth or coolness: The swatch at the le seems warmer than the one
to its right.
Color is one of the most engaging aspects of visual language, and also one of the most
expressive and evocative. Like the sense of smell, the experience of color links us to places
and memories, materials, and the emotions they conjure—which also makes it useful for
describing and differentiating products through their packaging, as seen here.
PARÁMETRO STUDIO / SPAIN

This color study is interesting for its examination of relationships between warmer and
cooler colors as well as between analogous and complementary colors.
DIANA HURD / UNITED STATES
Color Spaces The physical properties of objects and media that we use for
communication affect light in different ways; some, like computer screens
and projectors, generate light themselves. That means designers have to
think about what light does differently when it’s reflected from a surface,
like paper, as opposed to when it radiates from a monitor—and so, how
color might best be used for a particular project. The basic concerns here
are how wide a variety of colors will be able to be appreciated (what’s
called the color gamut, or range), and the way color wavelengths will be
mixed for us depending on the medium in question. These two aspects
together define a color space, and there are two basic kinds: Additive (or
light-based), in which colors combine to produce white; and subtractive (or
pigment-based), in which colors combine to produce black. It’s probably
intuitive that radiant media use additive color, and print or other physical
media use subtractive color. Each of these major color spaces also
comprises several kinds of color space that can be specific to the means of
production; and these are important visual, as well as practical,
considerations.

ADDITIVE COLOR
The visible color range, or gamut, that can be reproduced by a typical, high-resolution
computer monitor spans some 16 million colors; that sounds like a lot, but still it falls well
short of the gamut our eyes are able to perceive. In most cases, though, that gamut is more
than enough for most needs.
RGB COLOR
The color space of most monitors is produced using a combination of three colors of light
(red, blue, and green), each emitted at one of 255 levels of brightness within the same pixel
area. Groups of pixels of differing colors, seen together, mix optically to create the
appearance of a wider range of colors.
INDEXED COLOR
Compressing the size of image files is o en necessary for rapid drawing onscreen, and for
quick transfer over the internet. Indexing is a means of reducing file size by limiting the
actual number of colors used to represent an image, based on which colors are most
dominant—and then mixing those colors to create the illusion of more. The parameters are
adjustable, so, for example, one might index an image to only 256 colors (top), or even more
drastically, to 32 colors (bottom).

HEXADECIMAL (WEBSAFE) COLOR

Color can vary tremendously from device to device. So-called “websafe” color aims at
further restricting the available gamut to colors that are more uniformly and displayed by
so ware. Each color is designated by a code of letters and numbers.

SUBTRACTIVE COLOR
In comparison, the gamut for subtractive color is far narrower overall. In painting, in which
a large number of individually pigmented hues may be brought to bear, the gamut is
relatively expansive; in most kinds of printing, however, the gamut is drastically narrowed
because only a few ink pigments are used to reproduce color—even “full color.”
PROCESS (CMYK) COLOR
Most commercial printing uses a combination of four ink colors (cyan, magenta, yellow, and
black), printed in different densities, to create the illusion of a wider gamut. While process
color simulates full color pretty well, it’s never able to achieve the subtlety or range possible
with additive color like RGB.

SPOT COLOR
Using inks of particular pigmented hues, or “spot inks,” limits the color space further
because all material will appear only in different densities of the ink colors used. That
limitation is somewhat offset by the vibrancy of the inks, which is far greater than can be
achieved with process color because the latter is always a mixture of pigments, which
become duller and darker as they mix.
GRAYSCALE
The world of black and white is also a subtractive color space; it can be one of continuous
tone (grayscale) or a representation of tonal value using only pixels or dots of black in
different densities (bitmap).

BITMAP
Hue No matter the given color space, one must be able to describe
individual colors. Every color exhibits four intrinsic attributes that we can
use to do that. Of the four, hue is the most basic: this term refers to our
perception of a color as basically red, violet, orange, green, and so on. In
essence, it describes the dominant wavelength or frequency of light we
perceive being reflected or refracted from an object. As we’ll see a little
later (below, as well as shown here), all color identity is relative, meaning
that it is only truly knowable when it can be compared to an adjacent color.
Still, we’re able to perceive some hues as more or less absolute, what we
name the primary colors: red, yellow, and blue. That’s because their
frequencies are as different from each other as can be perceived by the
human eye (these frequencies are those we were first biologically able to
process during our evolution, so we distinguish them the most purely). Our
eyes are very sensitive, so the slightest change in frequency in any one of
the primary colors will cause the eye to perceive that its identity has shifted
slightly toward that of one of the other primary colors.

Hue defines the essential identity of a color, based on its wavelength: yellow versus violet,
for example.
Basic hue identity is relative: both of the swatches here are red, but once adjacent,
distinctions in temperature and value may be made.

Even when altered in value (le ) and saturation (right), a hue still retains its essential
identity (in this case, blue).
The colors we call “primary” are red, yellow, and blue. These wavelengths are as different
from each other in frequency as can be discerned by the rods and cones in the human optical
system. The secondary colors (orange, green, and violet) represent shi s in frequency
toward one primary color or another. The tertiary colors are still smaller shi s perceptible
between the secondary colors and their nearest parent primaries.
The hue selection in each poster shown here acknowledges color conditions imposed by the
photographs. In the poster just to the right, the color in the photograph is more greatly
varied, so choosing closely related yellow-orange, red, and red-violet hues provides a more
definitive color impression. In the poster to the far right, the photograph presents yellow-
green, blue-green, and orange hues; the hues selected for graphic fields extend and
exaggerate those color impressions.
ISOMETRIC STUDIO, INC. / UNITED STATES
Saturation After identifying a color’s hue as a starting point, one can then
talk about whether that hue is very intense, vibrant, and brilliant; or whether
it appears dull, or “grayed out.” The term saturation describes this relative
level of a hue’s intensity (sometimes, in particular fields, the term chroma is
used instead—but it’s not common). A hue that appears brilliant and
intense, or pure, is said to be saturated; one that is very dull is said to be
desaturated. The more desaturated a hue, the less visible its color is, until
the point where no hue is visible at all; in which case, the hue is said to
have become neutral. As with hue, a color’s apparent saturation will change
if it can be compared to an adjacent color. Of equal interest is the effect of
value (a color’s relative lightness or darkness, discussed on the following
page) on saturation: As a pure, saturated hue is lightened or darkened, its
apparent saturation will diminish. Similarly, increasing the saturation of a
hue, in certain contexts, will cause it to appear lighter in value (although, in
some instances, darkening the value of a particular hue will make it seem
more saturated, but only to a point).

In their purest, or most saturated, states, some hues are yet intrinsically more or less
saturated than others. Yellow is intrinsically more saturated than other hues.
The same hue seen in its pure, or saturated state (le ) and desaturated or neutralized
(right).

Changing a hue’s value typically diminishes its saturation, and sometimes affects its
apparent temperature as well.
Desaturated colors, all of a similar temperature, create a feeling of sophistication and
repose in the splash page of this website.
PEOPLE DESIGN / UNITED STATES
Photographs of elegantly styled dishes of soup define layout colors in this cookbook. Because
the majority of the recipes feature golden, creamy, soup stocks and a variety of orange and
green ingredients, the designer distilled a palette of desaturated versions of those hues for
color fields and typography; a relatively saturated yellow punctuates the layouts
throughout.
SANG ZHANG / UNITED STATES
Value Every color’s wavelength is perceived as intrinsically light or dark.
Primary yellow, for instance, is perceived as being light, while violet is
perceived as being dark. A color’s relative lightness or darkness is the third
attribute by which it can be described, and the term that does so is value.
And indeed, it is all relative. Yellow appears darker than white, which has
the lightest possible value of any color; a very dark-value violet, on the
other hand, will appear luminous and relatively light against a maximal
black, which has the darkest value (being technically the absence of light).
Possibly more than the truly chromatic quality of hue itself, a color’s value
has the most pronounced effect on all the other attributes of a color’s
identity: darkening or lightening a color will have serious consequences for
its perceived saturation and temperature; altering its saturation or
temperature will produce some, but comparatively little, effect on its value.
Further, the value of a color (or, of any form element) relative to its
surrounding field will dramatically affect its apparent spatial position—and
that means it is exceptionally important with regard to visual hierarchy.

Absolute value identity is considered in terms of hues’ similarity to a tone of black, which
achieves the darkest value possible. Every hue has an inherently lighter or darker value,
relative to the others in the visible spectrum.
Any hue can be made lighter or darker, even though it may be intrinsically lighter or darker
to begin with—as shown here.

Changing value o en changes not only saturation, but temperature. Some green hues, for
instance, will warm as they darken and cool as they lighten.

Placing any color on a darker color will make it seem lighter, as will increasing the amount
of a color. If you’ve ever had the unfortunate experience of picking out a paint swatch for
your living room only to find that it’s three or four values too light once you paint an entire
wall, you already know this to be true.
Saturation has an effect on the perception of value. Even though both of these colors are the
same value relative to the gray strip, the more saturated one (right) appears lighter in value.
Using colors of very close (or exactly the same) value emphasizes their hue identities and,
therefore, their temperature and saturation differences.
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES
Temperature The last of the four attributes that defines a color’s identity is
a subjective quality related to physically sensory experiences: the attribute
of temperature. Hues like red or orange remind us of things that are usually
hot (fire, in particular), and so are considered warm colors; hues like blue
and green remind us of cold objects or environments (such as ice or plants),
and so are considered cool colors. Colors of a particular temperature remind
us of these specific kinds of objects or substances because those substances
reflect similar wavelengths of light. The quality of temperature is so
pervasively associated with physical experience that really warm colors will
be referred to as hot, and really cool colors as cold. The temperature of any
color will be thrown in one direction or another if compared to any other
color. Placing a warm, or even a really hot, red near an even hotter orange,
for example, will make that red appear relatively cool. Needless to say, a
color’s apparent temperature is also affected by changes in relative value
and saturation, as well as by juxtaposition with other colors.

Any hue may be presented as cool or warm; the further the temperature shi from its pure
form, the more likely the hue will be perceived as a different one; this is especially true of
yellow, which shi s rapidly to orange or green, as seen here.
Any color’s temperature will appear to change, of course, in different contexts—as does the
same red swatch in these two pairs. In the top pair, it appears warm when juxtaposed with a
cooler red-violet; in the lower pair, it appears cool when paired with a warmer red-orange.
A shi in temperature between background and type—from cooler to warmer, respectively—
exaggerates their relative intensity, despite both hues being relatively neutral to begin with.
LSD SPACE / SPAIN
All of the illustrations on these packages are, technically speaking, in the red family—some
are cooler, skewed toward the violet range, and others are warmer, skewed toward the
orange range of the spectrum.
BEETROOT DESIGN GROUP / GREECE
 CHROMATIC INTERACTION

Color Relativity While reading about color identity throughout the

previous section, you’ve probably noticed how often the subject of
relationships between colors comes up. That’s because colors appear to
change—in all their attributes—as soon as they come into contact with
other colors. It’s actually impossible to accurately describe a particular
color in the absence of others. To get really theoretical and philosophical
about it: “color,” as an idea, doesn’t actually exist until there’s more than
one present, because it depends on what happens when there is. And that’s
typically the case anyway. So, after a designer understands the basic
attributes that define a single color, the next step is to dig into what happens
when colors start “talking to” each other. In the same way that one must
think about how forms interrelate, a designer has to assess the ways that
colors behave when they interact—and this, too, becomes an important part
of the visual language. Color relationships may just as easily destroy,
confuse, or obscure formal and hierarchic relationships in a composition as
they can act to enhance and dramatize them.

The effect of value relationships is shown here in a close-in comparison of two colors of
relatively similar hue and intensity; the greater the difference in the value of either color—or
of the color field on which it sits—the greater the effect on relative intensity. In the lower
example, the deeper ochre becomes more intense as the yellow orange lightens.
The boundary between the blue-violet on the le and the blue-green on the right is easy to
see in the top pair. Replace the darker color with a violet of similar value to the blue-green,
however, and their boundary is more difficult to see and seems to vibrate.

Extremely desaturated neutrals, even those devoid of any chromatic activity, may be
distinguished by temperature. The absolute gray at le (a tonality of black) appears to take
on warmth when adjacent to a subtly cool gray, a desaturated blue.
A color’s perceived temperature is, of course, relative; even colors that are commonly
experienced as cool or warm will demonstrate a shi in temperature when juxtaposed with
another hue. In this example, a very cool green—cool, that is, when next to a warm orange—
becomes unusually hot when next to an icy cool blue.

Using only three very decisively selected colors that all share some chromatic component—
but altering the relative volumes, adjacencies, and values of each in different areas—
provides a definitive color experience for this brand’s website, and allows for tremendous
variation in the apparent number of colors used.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
Color Models Since the 15th century, artists and scientists have been
creating diagrams for describing color perception and relationships. A color
model helps a designer see these relationships for planning color ideas. The
most common of these is the color wheel, developed in the late 1800s by
Albert Munsell, a British painter and scientist. Munsell’s color wheel is a
circular representation of hue—the differences in wavelength that
distinguish blue from yellow from red—modified along two axes that
describe the color’s darkness or lightness (its value) and its relative
brilliance (its saturation). Johannes Itten, a founding master at the Bauhaus
in Weimar, Germany, in the 1920s, posited a color sphere—a three-
dimensional model that reenvisioned Munsell’s color wheel as a globe—in
his landmark book The Art of Color, published in 1961. These color models
were developed to describe how color works with refracted light, but the
relative color relationships described by these models, however, work in
much the same way with mixed pigments; the difference is simply how
these relationships are achieved in a physical sense.
Relationships between colors are defined by their relative position on the Munsell color
wheel—which actually is a set of concentric rings, like those of an onion slice, stacked over
each other into a cylinder: hues are mapped, in their purest (most intense) saturation
around the outer ring, and gradually desaturate toward the center; value is shown as a
progression in the “slices”—from lightest (top slice) to darkest (bottom slice).
The warm hemisphere of the sphere, showing hues in the spectrum from red to yellow; value is
mapped from lightest at top to darkest at bottom.

The color sphere, developed from earlier models by Swiss artist and theorist, Johannes
Itten, extrapolates the color wheel’s flat “slices” into a truly volumetric model.
—
Hues are mapped around the sphere’s exterior (distinguished as hemispheres—warm on one
side, cool on the other); saturation diminshes toward the sphere’s center; and value
progresses upward, from dark at the sphere’s base to light at its top.
The cool hemisphere of the sphere, showing hues in the spectrum from green to violet; the
same value-mapping as in the warm hemisphere is visible.

A cross-section of the sphere, cut vertically between the warm and cool hemispheres. The
complementary nature of the opposing sides is shown by their mixing to create a neutral in
the middle.
Another cross-section, cut horizontally, separating the top (lighter) half from the lower
(darker) half. This view shows the pure hues mapped along the exterior, their saturation
decreasing toward the center.
Simultaneous Contrast The problem with trying to get a handle on color
interactivity derives from the fact that each of the colors in one’s field of
vision is affecting the other ones at the same time—that is, you can’t just
look at one of the colors and try to figure out what it is by itself, because
that color is changing the ones around it while the others are also changing
that particular one. And that’s with regard to every attribute of the colors in
the mix (hue, saturation, value, and temperature. This complicated, mutual,
visual dynamism is called simultaneous contrast. What happens (basically)
when two colors are juxtaposed is that each exaggerates the other’s
apparent attibutes. So a saturated color will desaturate the other, and vice
versa; a dark value color will lighten the other’s value; a warm color will
cause the other to appear cooler; and these effects will happen in
combination. And that assumes there are only two colors at play, and that
there’s a similar amount, or extension, of each of the colors. The more
colors there are, and the more disparate the amount of each, the weirder and
more complicated the simultanous contrasts.

The complexity of interrelationships between colors’ relative temperatures, saturations,

and values makes any kind of isolated or comprehensive examination of simultaneous
contrast nearly impossible. That said, the above examples offer a cursory demonstration of
the effect that will probably startle you—considering that the two small swatches in each
example are identical to those shown just to the right. The two base swatches that appear in
all are the same hue, and of the same value, but of different saturation. If there’s any
constant in the way simultaneous contrast works, it’s that pure (saturated) colors tend to
change less in different contexts; conversely, desaturated hues (especially neutrals) tend to
change more drastically, because they lack strong chromatic identity to begin with.

The value of the field on which a color sits also will affect its apparent intensity. For
example, on a white background, primary yellow will appear somewhat less intense—white
is the ultimate in saturation—but on a black background, the same yellow will become
extremely intense. Against a middle value of gray, the yellow decreases in saturation unless
the surrounding value is similar.
Extension In any given situation, one can apply different colors to various
form elements in relatively equal amounts (meaning, quantitatively the
same physical area) or in very different amounts. Depending on the selected
colors themselves, some will be perceived as having greater presence, or
even of dominating, the others, in the gestalt (totality). This effect results
from the specific physical energy required to process each color’s
wavelength frequency. Very often, however, a designer needs to balance the
presence of two or more colors so that another may have greater presence
(to clarify the visual hierarchy, for instance, by using an “accent” color to
emphaszie some elements against the others, or simply to add visual
interest). The relative percieved volume of colors is described by the term
extension; and different combinations of colors require different extension
of each to balance each other out so that both appear to have the same
presence. This “balancing” is most apparent between hues that are pure and
complementary (see the following page) but applies to all color
relationships—and exaggerates simultaneous contrasts.

The relative extension between pairs of complemetary hues that “balances” them out—such
that neither hue’s presence dominates that of the other—are shown here. It’s worth noting
that red and green become balanced when their relative extensions are equal, but no other
pair of complements behaves this way.
Less of a saturated hue is needed to balance a large field of a neutral one, as shown in the
top example. As the relative saturation of the neutral field increases, more of the saturated
blue is required to achieve chromatic balance between the two.
Extreme shi s in extension between two colors will super-exaggerate the effects of
simultaneous contrast and phantom color. In this CD cover, the narrow horizontal line is
actually a neutral gray (tint of black)—it appears almost orange over the violet field, but
lavender over the yellow field. The effect is enhanced by the complementary relationship of
the two background hues.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
Complementary colors buzz when they get close to each other and neutralize each other
when mixed. If you cover up the heart and blur your vision, you’ll perceive a less intense
olive color where the pure red and green mix more evenly. The increase in red numbers in
the heart area appropriately changes its relative intensity.
GUNTER RAMBOW / GERMANY
Hue Relationships Before any other considerations, the relationships
between hues that a designer uses in a project will be most dominant.
Designers can create interaction between different hues, independent of
their saturation or value, according to where they lie on the color wheel.
The closer together the colors appear on the wheel, the more similar their
optical qualities and, hence, the more harmonious or related. The further
apart colors are on the wheel, the more their optical qualities contrast.
When developing a project’s palette (see here in the next section, Color
Logic and Systems), the relative dynamism of hue contrasts is important
because the degree of activity they provide will influence viewers’
perception of meaning. In general, it’s helpful to choose fewer hues, that
exhibit clear relationships among them, to ensure a strong, memorable color
impression. Even with a palette of two hues, a designer can introduce a lot
of variation simply by adjusting each one’s saturation and value as it’s
applied to different elements; and changing the relative extension of the
hues in different areas will create further interest.
Colors adjacent to each other on the color wheel are said to be analogous. Although
noticeably different from one another, the relationship becomes more about temperature
difference.
Two colors that appear opposite each other on the color wheel are complements of each
other. Their mixture results in a neutral tone. With light, the neutral is a medium gray; with
ink, it’s a dull brown.
Sometimes referred to as split complements, a color triad involves three colors at 120°
intervals from each other on the color wheel. One color is complementing the two colors
equidistant from its true complement.
Exploiting the effect of simultaneous contrast in a limited palette—for instance, here, in a
group of only three hues (orange complementing blue, which is analogous to green)—is a
clever strategy for creating the impression of more hues than are actually present. The two
blue swatches are identical—but don’t appear to be.
Simply changing the relative extension of one hue in a pair (whether from page to page in a
website or brochure, or in different areas of a poster), will cause the two hues to exhibit
differing balance, and may also affect each one’s apparent saturation and temperature.
The book cover above, as well as the advertisement below, both make use of complementary
relationships—albeit, ones that have been slightly shi ed. The book cover’s orange is
complemented by a green-blue, rather than a pure blue; in the ad, a range of blues is overall
complemented by a golden yellow, rather than a true orange.
SHINNOSKE INC. / JAPAN ↑
UMBRELLA DESIGN / INDIA ↓
These four websites each limit their hue selection and relationships to create clearer, more
appreciable color logic: The technology site at top uses a trio of analogous hues. The
museum website below it accommodates tremendous variety in content by choosing images
that are mostly analogous (green, blue, and violet), accented by violet’s complement
(yellow) and further unified by the presence of black. The conference center site (third
image in series) minimizes full-color images and emphasizes an analogous pair (yellow and
green), with the yellow component further desaturated to create a range of rich, neutral
browns. The website at bottom uses a range of blue for its base fields and typography, but
introduces an analogue (violet) and its complement (yellow) with imagery.
DAVID AIREY / NORTHERN IRELAND ↑
YOOJUNG KANG / UNITED STATES ↓
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↓↓
IDEAS ON PURPOSE / UNITED STATES ↓↓↓
Strong, simple hue relationships are critical for brand identities. The three marks shown
here all combine analogous pairs.
DETAIL DESIGN STUDIO / IRELAND ↑
UMBRELLA DESIGN / INDIA ↓
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↓↓
Analogous hues typically are perceived as harmonious. That clarity and richness, however,
doesn’t mean they have to appear quiet or calming. The skin-care packaging above unifies
exterior and interior components with analogous hues, but the differentiated hue in each
case (green, violet) is made vibrant by desaturating the universal blue that accompanies
them. In the hypothetical example below, the analogous progression from blue to yellow
exaggerates the motion of the car and pulls it forward in space.
DISTURBANCE / SOUTH AFRICA ↑
Saturation Relationships Relationships between dullness and intensity
may occur independently of hue relationships; still, they’ll usually have
something of an effect on the apparent values or temperatures of the hues as
well. When a given hue is desaturated, it may appear to become darker,
especially if it’s adjacent to a similar or different hue of greater saturation,
but it may also appear to become cooler if the adjacent hue is a warm color.
By introducing strong, clear, and dynamic saturation relationships among
hues, a designer can rapidly create the impression of a more extensive
palette, even when he or she is working with only a couple of hues. The
specific choice of hues for a limited palette (see here) will offer different
possibilities in relation to saturation effects. Choosing analogous hues, but
changing the intensity of one, will create a rich, intimately harmonious
color experience; choosing complementary hues, or triads (split
complements), on the other hand, all with similar values but different
saturations, will create the impression of an even more richly varied color
experience.
ANALOGOUS

Any colors, regardless of hue, temperature, or value, that exhibit the same intensity or
brilliance, are said to exhibit analogous saturation.
PROGRESSIVE

Any colors (again, without regard to any other identifying characteristics) which, as a set,
incrementally increase in their relative intensities, are said to exhibit progressive
saturation.
DIAMETRIC OPPOSITION

This relationship concerns the juxtaposition of the most intense and almost completely
desaturated versions of the same hue. While the desaturated component retains its base
hue, its complement appears to be present because of what is called the “a er-image”
effect—an optical illusion in which the eye is stimulated by the saturated color so much that
it triggers the perception of a “phantom” of its complement.
SPLIT OPPOSITION

The most intense version of a given color in relation to the nearly desaturated versions of its
split complements creates a relationship of split opposition. The split relationship can also
occur between the desaturated hue and the most intense versions of its split complements.
EXTENSION

Juxtapositions of two or more colors of similar intensity, but in different volumes, create
effects of simultaneous contrast and a er-image. Juxtaposing a small volume of a
desaturated color with a large volume of an intensely saturated color creates hue shi ing;
the intense volume acts on the desaturated color to skew it toward the intense color’s
complement.
THE “BLACK EFFECT”

A field of black surrounding even relatively desaturated colors will tend to increase their
apparent intensity (top). Introducing small graphic elements of black into an environment
of desaturated colors (especially if they’re also light in value) sometimes will appear to
diminish their intensity, or “suck the life out of them” (bottom).
The brown covering, whose typographic cut-outs reveal a saturated orange underneath, is a
desaturated version of that same orange—not to the extreme of “diametric opposition”
described above, but it’s close.
STUDIO BLUE / UNITED STATES

In the logo shown above le , the pink letterform is less saturated than the red droplet,
enhancing its vitality and symbolic quality. In the logo shown above right, the effect of
diametric opposition occurs: the more intense squares (T, E) cause the viewer to see the
complement in the desaturated squares. Looking at the T and E tiles will cause the others to
appear greenish.
LSD SPACE / SPAIN ↑
DROTZ DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓

Both of the featured photographs in these book spreads emphasize saturation as a primary
chromatic element. The image at top shows a single hue (yellow) in varying degrees of
saturation. The lower image shows a desaturated cool red contrasting a saturated warm
red.
JELENA DROBAC / SERBIA
Similarity in value between two relatively desaturated hues emphasizes their temperature
difference and imparts rhythm and movement to the rigidly grid-shaped typography.
VOICE / AUSTRALIA
This website’s modular layout incorporates hues that progress from less saturated to more,
creating a greater sense of integration among its parts.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
Value Relationships Regardless of the specific hues and their relative
saturations, the colors selected for a given project will automatically
introduce value differences in their pure states. Because the value of any
particular color, being intrinsically light or dark, has implications for how
viewers perceive form elements (spatially and hierarchically), the choice of
colors and to which elements they are applied becomes very important. A
designer can readily exaggerate and enhance a hierarchy that is defined by
light/dark relationships by applying lighter or darker hues to form elements
that are correspondingly light or dark—even if there are ony one or two
hues in the mix. Value changes all by themselves can create tremendous
contrast in a layout without the need for added hues.
COMPRESSION

A selection of hues whose relative values, while clearly not the same, nonetheless are
concentrated within a specific tonal range, are said to express a compressed value scale. For
example, the three hues at top are compressed into the “highlight,” or light, tonal range; the
two hues at bottom are compressed into the “mid-value” range.
ANALOGOUS

In a scale from lightest to darkest, two colors are considered to have analogus value if they
exhibit the same relative darkness or lightness, regardless of saturation or hue. As colors
approach each other in value, the ability to distinguish their boundary is diminished.
PROGRESSIVE

A sequence of values among colors—in either optically even steps or optically geometric
steps—is considered progressive if the overall effect is perceived as one of continual
lightening or darkening within a given palette.
RHYTHMIC EXTENSION

A series of values, lighter and darker, is considered rhythmic if there are recognizable jumps
between shades, relative to the extension or volume of each shade. The result is an optical
proportioning of value similar to a spatial proportion system, but dependent on dark-to-
light difference.
Value changes in the base blue highlight important content and clarify navigation in this
website.
SWIM DESIGN / UNITED STATES
Progressive value change among modules in this website suggests a progression through
kinds and levels of content.
STUDIO BLUE / UNITED STATES
Although there are instances of dark-value color in the photograph on the le -hand page of
the page spread above, for the most part the values of most elements is compressed within
the mid-tone and highlight range. The overall lightness of feeling achieved is further
supported by the typography to the image’s right, which is set in warm, mid-value gray. In
contrast, the page spread just below shows a dramatically progressive value range, from
deepest black to brightest white, in both the photograph and the typography. The type adds
an additional chromatic aspect: that of a nearly complementary hue change.
VON K BRAND DESIGN STUDIO / AUSTRIA ↑
RESEARCH STUDIOS / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
Temperature Relationships Designers can also establish relationships
within a color palette based on the relative temperatures of the hues that it
comprises. Grouping colors with similar temperature together with one or
two variations on the same hues that are warmer or cooler—for example, a
cool green, blue, and violet with a warmer green—can generate an
enormous range of chromatic interactions while maintaining a tightly
controlled color environment. Because color temperature is so closely
associated with sensory, physical experience (and, therefore, to positive or
negative associations), designers must pay close attention to the
temperature relationships they create within the palette of a visual language
to prevent viewers from arriving at any negative connotation: coolness
perceived in skin color (whether lighter or darker), for example, may
suggest unhealthiness. Important considerations about color’s effect on
meaning is discussed in depth in this chapter’s final section, When Color
Means Something (shown here).
CLOSED

Extremely subtle, yet still perceptible, analogous shi s in temperature among a set of colors
that, nonetheless, retain the same hue identity. Value and saturation changes of the same
pure hue may accomplish this relationship.
ANALOGOUS

Any sequence of colors that is adjacent on the color wheel so long as they are similarly warm
or cool: red/orange/yellow, for example, or yellow/yellow-green/green, but not
orange/yellow/green.
PROGRESSIVE

An analogous grouping in which temperature makes a markedly stepped transition, color by

color, from cooler to warmer or vice versa.
RHYTHMIC EXTENSION

Between two colors sharing intensity and value, differences in volume will have the effect of
changing the perception of their relative temperature. If two colors are both relatively close
to each other in temperature, the one given in smaller volume will appear to shi
temperature away from that given in greater volume.
Extremely limited hue and saturation conditions in these two projects deliver specific,
unifying color impressions; both use temperature shi s as a primary means of introducing
rich chromatic variation. The brochure above activates a generally cool pair of photographs
with a contrasting warm feature on the right-hand page; in the ad below, a family of green
hues that alternate from warm to cool add visual interest.
NOT FROM HERE / UNITED STATES ↑
PEOPLE DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓
This poster is printed in three ink colors, all of which could be characterized as cool if seen
independently: a green-blue, a muted red violet, and a muted violet. In the context of the
green-blue, however, the red violet (partly because it is desaturated) is perceived as a warm
color.
HELENA WANG / UNITED STATES
Each stroke of the M symbol becomes progressively cooler; the full logotype is the
coolest. As green becomes cooler and deeper, it communicates less about refreshment
and more about economic growth and stability.
JELENA DROBAC / SERBIA
This styled product photograph concentrates the hues of props and backgrounds within a
relatively narrow temperature range; most elements are also somewhat analogous in value,
focusing attention on the darkest element.
METAKLINIKA / SERBIA
The relationship between the blue of the blueberries and the violet field on the opposite page
of this book is a simple, coolward shi , but it’s effective in exaggerating the berries’ hue.
DAVID AIREY / NORTHERN IRELAND
Color: Form and Space Colors exhibit a number of spatial properties: their
relative temperatures, values, and saturations, in combination, will cause the
forms to which they are applied to occupy an apparent foreground, middle-
ground, or background position in illusory space on a white field. These
basic relationships will change, however, once the field also takes on a
color: the relative value, temperature, and saturation of the field will appear
to draw those form elements of similar chromatic quality closer to a
background position. Conversely, those form elements whose values,
temperatures, or saturations contrast those of the field will appear to
advance into the foreground. The color extension, as well as overall value
and intensity relationships, between a particular element and its surrounding
environment will also affect its apparent spatial position. Consider, again,
that colorizing a black-and-white composition will introduce no difference
in the spatial relationships among the elements as they already exist; it is
only through the interaction of two hues or more that applying color will
add new kinds of perceived spatial interaction.
Our optical system (eyes and brain) perceive the three primary colors as existing at different
depths in space, a function of how our brains interpret the wavelengths of these colors. Red
appears stationary at a middle distance and seems to sit on the surface of the picture plane,
neither in front of nor behind it. Blue appears to recede behind the picture plane, while
yellow appears to advance.

The amount of color that can be perceived—and its intensity and value—are all affected by
volume. The orange of the narrow line appears darker and less intense against the white
field of the page than either the thicker line or the larger square. The opposite is true when
the same elements cross over a dark field.
Colors of similar value will appear to cluster together into one form, as do the grayish and
olive green areas at the upper le of this study. Because their values are similar, the
boundary between them appears less pronounced than those between other areas whose
values are much different, even if their intensities are also very different. Note the relative
lack of separation between the desaturated orange and light gray at the lower right.
JROSS DESIGN / UNITED STATES

Each color—blue, red, and yellow—assumes a place in space: blue recedes, red stays in the
middle, and yellow advances. In this case, the application of color enhances the desired
spatial location of each element.
THOMAS CSANO / CANADA

How color works spatially changes a lot in different contexts. The apparent spatial position
of yellow, for instance—and what that means for visual hierarchy (discussed in greater
depth on the following pages)—varies radically among these four projects. In each case, try
to identify how near or far in space the yellow element(s) appear to be; and evaluate why
that is, given what’s happening with other colors around it.
SEA DESIGN / UNITED KINGDOM ↑
SELF-TITLED / AUSTRALIA ↓
GORRICHO / ARGENTINA ↓↓
LEONARDO SONNOLI / ITALY ↓↓↓
Color’s Effect on Visual Hierarchy Applying color to a composition will
immediately affect its hierarchy. Color distinctions can greatly enhance the
perception of spatial depth and force greater separation between hierarchic
levels. For example, if an element at the top of a hierarchy is set in a deep,
vibrant orange-red, while secondary forms are colored a cool gray, these
two levels of the hierarchy will be separated visually to a much greater
degree. Although the values of the colors are similar, the saturated orange
form will advance in space, and the cool gray one will recede. The
application of color to the ground within a composition can further enhance
the hierarchy. A form in one color, set on a field of another color, will join
closely with it or separate aggressively, depending on their color
relationship. If the colors of foreground and background elements are
related, the elements will occupy a similar spatial depth. If they are
complementary in nature, the two will occupy very different spatial depths.
The result of color’s appearance at different planar locations can have a tremendous impact
on the perceived depth of forms in space and, consequently, on the order in which each form
presents itself: the visual hierarchy. In this study, each form element—regardless of size or
arrangement—is made to register in the foreground, then the middle ground, and then the
background of the composition, merely by alternating the element to which each color is
applied. The effect becomes even more dramatic when the background also participates in
the color swap.
A black-and-white composition showing a major, two level hierarchy—as well as
subhierarchies within—acts as a guidepost for a designer’s application of color. A strong
complementary relationship in the palette acts first to emphasize the top level of the
hierarchy. This fundamental color contrast exaggerates the already dramatic distinction
accomplished by size change and, being so strong, super-sedes the contrasts that occur
within the secondary level—all constrained within analogous relationships of hue and
saturation.
It’s interesting to compare the effect of different color combinations on the same hierarchy
in different instances. Note how the rectangular label element, in particular, appears to
change in both apparent spatial position and emphasis relative to other elements in this
system of packages.
LOUIS FILI LTD. / UNITED STATES
A designer, therefore, must approach the application of color to elements
within a visual hierarchy with the same sensitivity to overall difference
(contrast) between hierarchic levels as he or she would the basic aspects of
compositional contrast. The greatest degree of color contrast must be given
to the elements at the top of the hierarchy, relative to the kinds and degrees
of color contrast applied to the elements at the secondary and tertiary levels.
The most effective way of successfully ensuring that this occurs is to first
establish the composition’s hierarchy in black and white. This allows the
designer to understand the complexities of the hierarchic levels and the
degrees of contrast needed to separate them (as well as those contrasts that
are present within each level) without having to consider the wild variables
that color will inevitably introduce. With the hierarchic distinctions clear in
black and white, the designer creates a kind of reference map for assigning
color relationships: What kind of hue/temperature/value/saturation qualities,
together, will add to these distinctions, already in place?
Two fundamental color relationships are at work to distinguish different areas and levels of
content in these websites: a hue/temperature relationship (yellow/warm against blue/cool);
and a saturation relationship (saturated=more important, neutral=less important)—with
the chief difference between them being the reversal of the value relationships.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↑
CONOR & DAVID / IRELAND ↓
Color use in these two projects also codes information in a meaningful way, beyond simply
ordering it spatially and sequentially. Different hues characterize the two major concepts in
the headline of the poster, above. In the book cover, below, name and symbol are made
meaningfully equivalent by the same hue; the only contrasting hue applies to a conceptual—
and somewhat controversial—framing of the book’s subject.
BRAND BROTHERS / FRANCE ↑
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↓
 COLOR LOGIC AND SYSTEMS

Defining a Palette Just as it’s important to define a clear, unified form

language and compositional idea for a project (and one that includes
contrast among these variables), a designer must also establish an overall
logic that governs the color within a project. This idea of color logic is more
commonly referred to as a palette, a specific selection of hues exhibiting
equally specific relationships. One useful direction a designer may pursue
in developing a color palette for a project is that of optical interaction. A
rich palette combines clearly distinguishable colors that yet share some
unifying optical relationships. Because of the strong opposition of
complements, palettes based on this relationship are optically dynamic.
Analogous colors, by their very similarity, create more complex, but less
varied, palettes. Color, of course, can also mean something. Very often, that
meaning is tied to associations we make between colors and objects or
environments; but colors also evoke intangible feelings that result from the
biological effects of perceiving them. Further, colors carry cultural and
social meanings related to religion, art, history, and politics.
The process of defining a palette can begin very simply: choosing colors for their optical
relationship—in this case, a pair of complements—because their interaction is so strong
(top). Adjusting the relative values of the complements creates greater contrast without
disturbing the clarity of the relationship (bottom).
Seeking a richer experience, the designer may shi the temperature of one or both
complements, maintaining the essential relationship but skewing it slightly.
—
Altering the intensities of one or both introduces yet greater richness without sacrificing the
fundamental logic of the palette.
The addition of a neutral version of one of the complements expands the palette; a second
version of the neutral, lighter in value, introduces greater variation.
To this already complex mix, the designer lastly adds the analog of one of the base
complements, adjusting its value and intensity to correspond more closely to one of the
neutrals.
A clear palette is essential for branding programs to ensure recongizability. This page from
an identity manual (above) shows how colors from the supporting color palette can be
combined with the primary corporate blue in the system. The supporting colors are strictly
controlled so that the corporate blue is always the deepest and most intense. The color
contrasts in the advertising photograph (one in a campaign), below, are limited to two
variables (temperature and value) while overall the hues and relative saturation of its
elements are very similar.
STUDIO INTERNATIONAL / CROATIA ↑
NAM / JAPAN ↓
The Basic Optical Choices Visual logic in color is a lot like other kinds:
the simpler, the more understandable. In creating a palette for a project, a
designer will often benefit from limiting the number of hues and their
interactions. Grounding the palette in a fundamental hue relationship—
analogous, complementary, or triadic—is a great place to start. These kinds
of relationships are very clear and alone offer tremendous possibilties for
mixing to generate supporting colors (especially complementary pairs,
which when combined will create neutral colors). If a two- or three-hue
palette seems too limiting, an effective strategy is to add a greater variety of
hues but to constrain their relationships within a limited set of variables—
only varying intensity, for example, while other attributes remain constant.
Varying just one aspect of the palette creates the most clearly recognizable
logic; altering two variables adds complexity (and, of course, the possibility
that the logic will become diluted or unrecognizable).

With a particular green as a starting point, different combinations with a succession of

alternate counterparts create a variety of interesting possibilities. Each combination’s
specificity results in a clearly recognizable visual logic, especially useful for branding
projects where color impression plays a dramatic role in brand memorability.
These two projects (a website, above, and a book cover, below) each establish
complementary hues as a base palette, with the added tension of analogous relationships
between at least one of the complements. In the website, the yellow orange background
complements the blue-violet graphical elements; each is analogous to one of the secondary
hues outlining the figure. In the book cover, the title/subtitle unit and the double-author unit
show complementary pairs; each complement is analogous to one of the hues in the other
pair.
SUBCOMMUNICATION / CANADA
THINK STUDIO / UNITED STATES
Color As a System Most designed communications are part of a more
extensive group of materials or are made up of multiple parts: page spreads
in a book or brochure, for example, or a series of ads in a campaign. This
means that the parts all must share a vsiaul language for continuity, even
though each might serve a different function or be a different format. The
idea of a system is one that will be discussed in great depth in chapter 5—
but for now, the idea of a color palette as a system is a useful introduction to
the concept. A system is a framework of visual rules or logic that can be
applied across a number of parts to ensure unity among them, while at the
same time allowing for some flexibility. A palette’s hues and their
relationships can be thought of as the “rules” of a system—using these
consistently to colorize images or graphical forms, as backgrounds, and so
on makes it clear that all the parts of a project are part of a totality. Varying
specific aspects of the relationships allows a designer to create contrast
within the whole, emphasize particular content, and maintain visual interest.
Fewer rules with fewer variations ensures clarity.

The author typically chooses a palette of hues that he uses to distinguish the chapters in his
books for quick, page-through reference. Very o en, he uses secondary colors to
systematically code graphical elements or informational components within each chapter.
Above, le , for instance, is the palette for this book. Each chapter’s hue is progressively
warmer than that of the previous one; a supersaturated orange runs throughout, generally
used for supporting graphical elements, like details in diagrams. Black is used as a base for
material outside the chapters.

Below that is the palette for another of his books, Making and Breaking the Grid, which is
divided into two major sections. Each section is defined by a different, saturated hue. Within
respective chapters, a desaturated, light-value version of that hue is used for page
backgrounds, while a dark-value version is used for diagram lines and callouts. The primary
chapter color is also used for details within diagrams, and for navigational/hierarchic
accents within the chapter.

Working with richly colored photography can be inspirational for designers looking to
establish a systematic palette for a project. In this book about Scandinavian textiles, the
designer has isolated a blue violet hue that isn’t literally to be found in the image, but is
clearly related to the image’s analogous colors. The designer followed this strategy for each
section opening spread, an example of which appears above right.
YOO JUNG KANG / UNITED STATES

SINGLE-VARIABLE SYSTEMS
MULTIPLE-VARIABLE SYSTEMS

A simple proportional system is shown here as the basis for different color-coding
relationships. The intervals within the composition remain the same throughout; the
criteria for the coding system changes from series to series while, within a single series, the
color components alternate position among the proportional intervals.
The secondary palette for this brand system is relatively extensive; it incorporates the
primary, secondary, and tertiary hues of the spectrum, plus a selection of neutrals. The
rules for how they’re applied, however, is very specific. Each cover’s color responds with an
analogous hue shi to the overall hue characterstics of the photograph that accompanies it.
The benefit of this strategy is that the designers can create very specific color impressions in
each communication (anticipating ones beyond these brochures alone), creating flexibility
in the system. At the same time, a clear logic becomes the color idea of the brand, rather
than a single, repeated color relationship.
GARBETT / AUSTRALIA
A simple “rule” allows each cover in this book series its individuality, while maintaining
consistency: each cover’s dark-value background hue supports printed type and imagery in
a lighter-value version of the same hue. The system permits a variation in which the print
color may be saturated, as happens in the two titles to the right.
CORALIE BICKFORD-SMITH / UNITED KINGDOM
The color system for the beverage packaging below is a little freer than that used for others
on these pages. Each beverage flavor is defined by a characteristic color, which is generally
(but not always) supported by near-complements, masked into the logo’s letters.
B&B STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM

This stationery system creates unity (and variety) simply by mixing six distinctive hues in
different combinations among the components.
BANG BANG / CANADA
The designers of this campaign, focused on LGBTQ issues, evoke the symbolic rainbow
associated with that community through gradations of color. Each poster in the series
incorporates only two or three analogous hues with color washes and color-filtered
photography; seen altogether, the full spectrum becomes appreciable.
ISOMETRIC STUDIO, INC. / UNITED STATES

Together with manipulations of this logo’s base form, a palette of three hues mixes in varied
combinations to produce a continually updating brand experience.
THINKMOTO / GERMANY
Limited Color Palettes Even using only two colors can create a
surprisingly rich color language, whether literally by printing in only two
ink colors or limiting oneself in CMYK or RGB color space projects—
where all colors, theoretically, are available. While many projects call for
full-color imagery, limiting the palette always creates a more recognizable
and memorable experience. In printed matter, using only two spot-color
inks need not be limited to small-run or low-budget projects; two
thoughtfully-selected colors may communicate very powerfully and clearly
unify materials. This approach is particularly useful for branding, where the
interrelation of inks can be used to distinguish different communications in
a system while reinforcing the identity of the brand. When working with a
limited palette, choosing colors with dynamic chromatic interaction is of
greatest concern: Given limited options, the designer must get as much
flexibility as possible from the palette’s two or three components. Choosing
two complements as counterparts, for example, is an intuitive first
possibility—but not the only one.
Simply replacing black ink with ink of another color—even in a one-color job—can give an
extra punch to an otherwise mundane project.

Each of these posters uses an individual selection of two analogous hues—as does each of the
other posters in the series of which they’re a part. This approach allows each poster to
deliver an appropriate color impression, relative to the performance it promotes, and still
be clearly unified with others in the communication program.
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES
A three-color palette not only unifies the components in this literature system, it allows the
designer to differentiate different product offerings and still reinforce the core identity of the
brand. The signature (logo) retains its color identity, and the components all seem
intrinsically related to it, as well as to each other.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
Limited Palettes and Photography One potential drawback of using
photography is that (speaking broadly, and barring unique stylistic
approaches), photographs all look more or less the same—and they’re
everywhere. Given that a designer’s task includes differentiating the
communication (to attract viewers’ attention), it’s worth considering the
potential of enforcing a limited color palette to overcome photography’s
ubiquity to create a specific, custom experience. Various techniques for
toning and colorizing photographs also give a designer chances to enhance
the color logic among images, type, and other graphic elements. Even when
full-color photography is not only available as an option, but desirable,
limiting its coloration will help it better integrate; doing so can also focus
attention on the most important components of an image’s subject, or
emphasize important details. If a designer is lucky enough to have a budget
for original photography, he or she may art direct the photographer’s use of
lighting, props, backgrounds, and isolation of content in the frame to
control the image’s palette very specifically.

The various designers of these three projects all imposed limitations on the photographic
palettes of their images. The sandwiches seen in the cookbook spread, above, were
embellished with violet flowers and green leaves and shot against a cool, neutral,
background. For the magazine cover below, the subject of the portrait was styled with
clothing and shot against a background of specific colors. The designer of the posters
(following image), on the other hand, simply colorized the photographs to participate in an
established color system.
MICHELLE LIV / UNITED STATES ↑
MUCHO / SPAIN ↓
KIYOKO SHIROMASA / UNITED STATES ↓↓
Color Coding Color can very effectively help distinguish different kinds of
information, as well as create meaningful relationships among components
of a system—within infographics, for instance, or among packages for a
line of related products. Assigning specific colors to identify each kind of
informational material is called color coding. To be effective, the members
of a palette used for coding must be easily distinguishable and, therefore,
relatively simple; using two many colors creates confusion, because it
forces the viewer to remember which color relates to which information. If
the number of items to be coded is great—within an extensive line of
products, or complex levels of information within a typographic hierarchy
—creating analogous subsets within a still-limited palette of hues can be
effective: for example, three analogous greens for one group, three kinds of
violet for another, and so on. Wide-ranging sets of hues can be unified using
an accent color that appears throughout the coded material.

Colors used to code a family of items need to be easily distinguished from each other. Triads,
as well as large jumps in value or saturation within an analogous set, achieve this goal.
Within a relatively close-in analogous coding palette, an accent enriches the color language.
For families of more than three items or levels, consider joining related palettes, especially
if they will help identify subgroupings.

Changing the relative extension of a coding palette’s component hues can add needed
complexity if the number of items or levels is great. Reverse the proportional relationship
between bases and accents to double the number of items that can be coded within the
family while maintaining a close-in family.
Groupings of analogous colors provide a flexible, yet very consistent, system for color
coding in this packaging system. Each wrapper uses two analogous colors to identify its
specific product in the system—blue-violet and aqua, red and yellow-orange, violet-red and
orange—and each item’s base color is also analogous in relation to each other.
A10 DESIGN / BRAZIL
A rich set of analogous colors is used to code three different beverage products while
maintaining a clear unity between the products in the family. There are three hues, and
each is a specific value. In each bottle’s wrapper, the three hues are swapped between the
background and the different text elements; as a result, each bottle is first differentiated by
the color of the wrapper’s background color.
NINE DESIGN / SWEDEN
Each series of booklets in this system is grouped in terms of a color relationship. The group
of covers shown above le is coded as a set by intensity and temperature; the grouping
shown above right is coded as as set based on intensity and hue.
LEONARDO SONNOLI / ITALY
The designers of this book code its chapters with a palette of saturated, analogous hues,
contrasting the neutral, sepia tones of the historical photographs. In each chapter opening
spread (one of which is shown just above), the color selectively applied to a component of
the image and supporting typography corresponds with the chapter’s page listing in the
table of contents at top.
INFINITO / PERU
 WHEN COLOR MEANS SOMETHING

Empirical Associations The greatest power of color, aside from its

dynamic optical qualities, stems from the way we so readily associate it
with physical, real-world experiences: Greens, browns, and other earthy
hues remind us of the natural world and its organicism; icy grays and blues
suggest metal or glass or other industrial surfaces. Most times, the colors
with which we’re presented in images are naturalistic, meaning that the
occur in those subjects empirically; designers will sometimes use the term
local color instead. Even when a communication’s form language is
completely nonpictorial, its messaging is grounded in color associations
that permit easy access to understanding by grounding the visual abstraction
in familiarity. And, as much as it can often be useful to alter the color of a
photographic image for conceptual or stylistic purposes, the physical world
around us is beautifully and richly colorific as it is. Trading on the rich,
immediately accessible, and understandable connections to subjects we
encounter all the time helps viewers more readily accept the veracity of
image content: Those colors are clearly “true.”

In attempting to identify a form and thereby assign it some meaning, viewers will focus on
color a er they appreicate the form’s shape, but the two messages are nearly simultaneous.
As a result, the color message will exert tremendous force on perception. Comparing the
dots at le , guess which is being presented as a Sun, and which as the Earth.
Blue and blue-violet are cool and waterlike. In this poster, their calming quality represents
the ocean as a contrast to the hectic movement of the red title.
GUNTER RAMBOW / GERMANY
A hazy, luminous gradation from rich blue to intense red-orange to refreshing aqua evokes
daybreak.
PARÁMETRO STUDIO / MEXICO
The reliability and strength of brown protect the growing green plant.
SOHYUN KIM / UNITED STATES

An abstracted model for additive, or light-based, color, forms the symbol for this media
company’s brand signature.
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES
Emotions and Psychology With color comes a variety of psychological
messages that can be used to influence content—both imagery and the
verbal meaning of typography. This emotional component of color is deeply
connected to human experience at an instinctual and biological level. Colors
of varying wavelengths have different effects on the autonomic nervous
system—warmer colors, such as red and yellows, have long wavelengths,
and so more energy is needed to process them as they enter the eye and
brain. The accompanying rise in energy level and metabolic rate translates
as arousal. The psychological properties of color, however, also depend
highly on a viewer’s culture and personal experience. Many cultures equate
red with feelings of hunger, anger, or energy because red is closely
associated with meat, blood, and violence. By contrast, vegetarians might
associate the color green with hunger. Acknowledging the audience’s
background, then, becomes extremely important for ensuring that their
interpetation of color messages—which can be quite subjective—is likely to
be a little more reliable.

This vibrant color is among the most noticeable. Red stimulates the autonomic nervous
system to the highest degree, invoking the “fight or flight” adrenaline response, causing us
to salivate with hunger, or causing us to feel impulsive. Red evokes feelings of passion and
arousal.
The power of blue to calm and create a sense of protection or safety results from its short
wavelength; its association with the ocean and sky account for its perception as solid and
dependable. Statistically, blue is the best liked of all the colors.
Associated with the Sun and warmth, yellow stimulates a sense of happiness. It appears to
advance spatially in relation to other colors and also helps to enliven surrounding colors.
Yellow encourages clear thinking and memory retention. A brighter, greener yellow can
cause anxiety; deeper yellows evoke wealth.

The association of brown with earth and wood creates a sense of comfort and safety. The
solidity of the color, because of its organic connotation, evokes feelings of timelessness and
lasting value. Brown’s natural qualities are perceived as rugged, ecological, and hard
working; its earthy connection connotes trustworthiness and durability.
Unknowable and extreme, black is the strongest color in the visible spectrum. Its density
and contrast are dominant, but it seems neither to recede nor to advance in space. Its
indeterminate quality reminds viewers of nothingness, outer space, and, in Western culture,
death. Its mystery is perceived as formal and exclusive, suggesting authority, superiority,
and dignity.
Violet is sometimes perceived as compromising—but also as mysterious and elusive. The
value and hue of violet greatly affect its communication: deep violets, approaching black,
connote death; pale, cooler violets, such as lavender, are dreamy and nostalgic; violets of
warm temperature (more red-hued), are dramatic and energetic; plumlike hues are magical.
With the shortest wavelength, green is the most relaxing color of the spectrum. Its
association with nature and vegetation makes it feel safe. The brighter the green, the more
youthful and energetic. Deeper greens suggest reliable economic growth. More neutral
greens, such as olive, evoke earthiness. However, green, in the right context, can connote
illness or decay.

A mixture of red and yellow, orange engenders feelings similar to that of its parent colors:
vitality and arousal (red), warmth and friendliness (yellow). Orange appears outgoing and
adventurous but may be perceived as slightly irresponsible. Deeper orange induces
salivation and a feeling of luxury. Brighter orange connotes health, freshness, quality, and
strength. As orange becomes more neutral, its activity decreases, but it retains a certain
sophistication, becoming exotic.
The ultimate neutral, gray may be perceived as noncommittal, but can be formal, dignified,
and authoritative. Lacking the emotion that chroma carries, it may seem aloof or suggest
untouchable wealth. Gray may be associated with technology, especially when presented as
silver. It suggests precision, control, competence, sophistication, and industry.
In a subtractive color model, white represents the presence of all color wavelengths; in an
additive model, it is the absence of color. Both of these models help form the basis for
white’s authoritative, pure, and all-encompassing power. As the mixture of all colors of
light, it connotes spiritual wholeness and power. Around areas of color activity in a
composition—especially around black, its ultimate contrast—white appears restful, stately,
and pure.
Symbolic Conventions While every client and project is different, the color
language of many business sectors often respects conventions that are
symbolically tied to a given color’s common psychological effects: Many
financial institutions, for instance, use blue in their communications
because of its perceived reliability. Consumer expectations are a driving
force behind color decisions in design related to products or lifestyle and
subculture. Although color differentiation in a crowded market is
paramount, designers must still respect some conventions when it comes to
communicating associations such as cleanliness, strength, youth or maturity,
heritage, comfort, and luxury. Earth tones are traditional, black and gray are
chic, blues and grays mean business, and fluorescent colors are playful or
have to do with technology. Diverse cultures and nationalities express
themselves through symbolic color, too, typically through their flags, as
well as through their traditional aesthetics. Rooted in convention, symbolic
color provides a strong basis for communication, to be combined or altered
appropriately for more specific messages.
MOODS AND EMOTIONS

Complex moods and emotions are easily captured in palettes that combine the psychological
aspects of individual hues, as well as manipulations of their relative values and intensities.
CULTURAL AND TEMPORAL CONTEXT

Along with emotional ideas, palettes may suggest place—distilled from various cultures’ art
and textiles—as well as the time of day or year.
HISTORICAL PERIOD / AESTHETIC MOVEMENTS

Various periods in Western history can be quickly identified by colors that are related to
materials that were prevalent or color schemes that were in vogue, during that era.
MARKETING SECTORS

Particular color palettes are o en associated with, and sometimes identified as desirable by,
specific age groups and subcultures, especially those related to fashion and gender
conventions.
INDUSTRY AND PRODUCT SECTORS

Very specific color palettes are identified by consumers as related to particular industries,
product types, and services.
Deep olives and browns evoke a sense of history, especially in the context of photographs,
which were tinted brownish and sometimes olive in the early stages of photography.
STUDIO BLUE / UNITED STATES

The dark blue field enclosing this logo feels stable and personable; the color accents create a
recognizable flag.
MADE IN SPACE, INC. / UNITED STATES
Associations of color with gender and sexuality change over time. The book cover at le
uses pink, strictly associated with femininity during the 1950s, to evoke that time period.
The rainbow has become associated with the the notion of gender diversity; hence its use in
the online LGBTQ community resource site shown below.
RED CANOE / UNITED STATES ↑
ISOMETRIC STUDIO, INC. / UNITED STATES ↓
The selection of red-oranges, pinks, and yellow-greens for this logo evokes the farmer
client’s farmland in autumn.
MINAH KIM / UNITED STATES
Cooler hues—specifically green and blue—are most o en associated with the financial and
scientific industries.
DETAIL DESIGN STUDIO / IRELAND
The elegance of black and the passion of red unite in a rhythmic branding language used on
shopping bags.
GARBETT / AUSTRALIA
Changing Color, Changing Meaning The perception of “truth” through
naturalistic color can be beneficial; but if neither a project’s messages, nor a
viewer’s need for understanding depends on it, who is to say a pictorial
image must present its subject empirically colored? Radically altering the
color of photographic images can accomplish a great deal, both formally
and conceptually. Of course, because color so strongly affects meaning,
how that might happen is of great concern. Even a simple alteration can
have dramatic implications—changing a corporate executive’s suit in a
portrait from welcoming blue to an aloof or shady dark gray, for instance.
Manipulating the overall tonal balance of an image—warm or cool, intense
or dull, greenish or blueish—will usually skew an image’s feeling in one
direction or another. Similarly, when considering color application to
typography, designers must anticipate the powerful directness of any
associations created for their relevance. Selectively manipulating the color
balance in an image, yet still maintaining naturalistic color overall, can
further enrich an image or correct the color to be more true.

Manipulating the overall color or color balance of an image will change a viewer’s feeling
about the image’s content. When the original image (A) is presented in black and white (B),
it becomes more documentary; printed in a duotone of intense colors (C), the image takes on
a surreal and illustrative quality; skewing the image’s color balance makes it refreshing (D)
or somber (E). These dramatic changes show the potential of color alteration on a more
metaphorical or conceptual level, as opposed to those shown in the sequence below.
This image has been manipulated on press by raising and lowering the density of the four
process inks to correct and enhance the color balance and saturation: (A) original image; (B)
cyan decreased and yellow increased; (C) cyan increased again, yellow decreased, and
magenta increased; (D) yellow increased slightly, black increased. The results, subtle
enough to be appreciated intellectually when compared side by side, nontheless improve
the perception of the fruit’s freshness, a desirable manipulation of feeling and message.

When altering the color in images that include people, considering the effect on skin tones
becomes extremely important. While some color alterations will add energy or seem fun,
others may unintentionally add negative connotations; in this example, the greenish toning
produces a sickly feeling, while the blueish toning makes the people seem cold and dead.
Rich sepia coloration augments the fragmented, historical quality of the photograph on a
promotional brochure for a hotel (above); the deeper values add a somber, reflective note. In
the playbill cover (below), greenish-blue haze transforms the upside-down figure into one
that appears to be floating in water.
THOMAS CSANO / CANADA ↑
FROST DESIGN / AUSTRALIA ↓
Altered coloration, together with formal and compositional manipulations of imagery,
alludes to psychological and emotional experiences in a series of informational brochures
that promote the services of a psychotherapist.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
Color forcefully changes the feeling of words, sometimes enhancing their meaning and
sometimes opposing the meaning or altering it. Subdued colors, especially those that are
cool or desaturated, enhance the meaning of the word “quiet;” interestingly, the word’s
meaning is intensely appreciated when set in a vibrant color.
Interpeting Optical Sensation It’s important to remem-ber that color is its
own thing—meaning that, even though we link it to concrete physical
experiences and symbolic conventions, it can be meaningfully interpreted
independent of forms or images signifying those things. Processing color
stimuli changes neural activity and metabolic rates; and the visual effects of
color assimilation cause the lenses of our eyes to contract and expand, as
though responding to a change in light (which it is). Although such effects
will likely first remind us of experiences whose lighting conditions make
our eyes do similar things, or associations of the colors themselves with
objects and materials of similar color, these sensations may just as easily be
interpreted as the stimuli from other senses (spicy or sweet, sharp or soft,
blaring or harmonious); or as more abstract or intangible ideas, like
memory or romance or time. Trying to reliably deliver such messages is
challenging because color is so personally subjective; success often depends
on the contextual support of form and text. Some visual thinking around the
possibilities are shown below for consideration.

Students participating in a color study project were tasked with communicating various
aspects of a chosen subject using color alone—strictly limited to three base hues (two
complements and the analogue of one). By adjusting the attributes of each hue to create an
extensive palette, and then combining the resulting swatches in different sequences and
relative extensions, they were able to achieve credible narrative experiences based solely on
the optical experience of the color fields.
Infancy
Adolescence
Middle Age
Death
This investigation focused on life stages. While some of the initial choices from among the
palette options were intuitive (infancy, for instance, with its warm, light-value hues), others
were not (middle age required evening out relative extensions and diminishing saturation
to contrast the unpredictability of adolescence). A er the palettes were complete, this
student chose to apply them to a practical communication.
ALEXANDRA VITALE / UNITED STATES

Supersaturated colors, especially in jarring combinations, tend to equate with artificiality;

we associate them with things like chemicals. On the other hand, the unbridled energy such
coloration presents may also evoke intangible mental states, like that of imagination or
creativity—which is the case here, used appropriately as part of the branding for a dynamic
art festival.
PARÁMETRO STUDIO / MEXICO
Most neutrals, especially those that are warm in temperature, produce a calming sensation.
Juxtaposed in subtle gradations of value, they suggest a kind of transition or easing, as well
as a sense of subtle infiltration or adjustment. Both qualities are put to use in the brochure
cover (above le ) and consultation counter for an aromatherapy brand. Interestingly, the
tonally graduated bands convey different messages in each instance, simply because of the
reversal in direction. On the cover, the increase in visual weight is relaxing; in the interior
space, it becomes upli ing.
GOÑI STUDIO / SPAIN
Similar to the prior project above, the cover for a spa’s catalogue of services shown here
relies on neutral hues with a limited range of value that are further enhanced by relatively
subtle shi s in temperature. It’s generally true that most people interpret combinations of
colors that exhibit lesser degrees of contrast to be soothing or healing—especially if they’re
lighter in value and desaturated. These qualities are, of course, supported by so ly
irregular dot forms and organic textures.
MUCHO / SPAIN
 COLOR IN THE REAL WORLD

Calibrating Displays and Outputs At some point in the design process,

the color choices and relationships we’ve been considering theoretically are
going to live in the real world. And there’s little more challenging about
color than getting it to do what we expect it to once ink hits paper or it’s
radiating from a screen. Most design work takes place digitally; we view
color on a monitor. For websites and motion work, that’s not a huge
problem because the design environment and the intended application are
the same light-based output. Even so, there’s likely to be some difference in
color appearance between devices. Serious problems arise, however, when
the output is physical. Color in a layout viewed on screen always appears
different when printed on an inkjet or laser printer for proofing (and again
when commercially printed). Aside from disappointing the designer,
unexpected color results will surprise clients (not in a good way) or fail to
achieve their intended effect. The first step toward overcoming potential
nightmares is to align the studio’s display and output parameters—and then
to test, test, test.
Several print technology manufacturers offer hardware/so ware systems for calibrating
monitor color relative to printer color. These tend to be somewhat expensive; there are
other strategies to try first.
—
A computer’s system preferences provide controls to calibrate its monitor for different
output conditions, and to adjust the monitor’s overall warmth or coolness (its “gamma”).
When doing so, it’s a good idea to have some reference: open an image file in the
background and watch how it changes as you test different settings, selecting the one that
seems the truest. A printer can be calibrated with its own so ware driver, and similar
calibration profiles sometimes exist between computers and printers. It’s also possible to
find free, third-party calibration profiles online.
—
If possible, compare the setting results with a print of the same image. That’s tricky: you’ll
be comparing light emission to a reflective surface. Even out ambient lighting conditions so
the printed image appears true (daylight is the most evenly colored light with which to
judge), but so that the lighting doesn’t compromise the screen’s brightness or contrast.
Hold the print out close, away from the screen, but so that both are in your field of vision at
the same time. Adjust the monitor’s calibration settings until the image onscreen looks
more like the print.
Ultimately, color fidelity comes down to what’s coming out of one’s printer at any given
time. Constantly changing factors (humidity, and how full each color cartridge happens to
be) mean that output seen in the morning may well be different that a ernoon. When you’re
getting ready to do some matching, it’s important to set a baseline against which to
evaluate: start with full toner, and print all tests at the same time. If you don’t have a
printer and are using an output service, always go to the same one (at least for a given
project’s duration). When creating swatches for a project within page layout or drawing
so ware, physical reference is helpful—whether it’s a paint chip, an ink swatch or, better
yet, a found, printed sample of a color you’re trying to achieve. Make a matrix of variations
for a particular swatch: copy it, change its CMYK mix slightly, and repeat. Make note of the
differences in the CMYK mixture, gang up the swatches on a single page, and print it out to
compare the variations to the sample.
Seeing What You’re Getting Given that color in on-screen
communications will be reasonably consistent, the serious challenge is
managing color in print. That usually means, looking at laserprinted or
inkjet-printed printouts to evaluate color that will ultimately be produced
using some other kind of printing process. For process-color (CMYK)
printing, differences between in-house printed proofs, professionally
produced high-resolution proofs, and final press results will exhibit closer
color fidelity, because all are CMYK. Still, it’s necessary to compare one’s
own CMYK output to some kind of standard to answer the question: Is my
laser printer output going to look this way on press? For this purpose, a
process-color guide book is essential. For spot-color printing, designers will
have to jump through a few hoops to make sure their in-house CMYK
output matches industry-standard ink samples, typically available from ink
manufacturers as a book of swatches. If matching color among spot- and
process-color printed materials becomes necessary (for instance, when
designing different applications in a brand system), things get trickier.

The individual separations of each ink layer of a process-printed image are shown here.
Designers can adjust the overall density of a particular separation, or make precise
adjustments to selected areas using image-editing so ware. The image comes together as
each ink layer successively overlays the previous, what is called a progressive separation.
Designers and printers can judge separations in any combination to pinpoint areas of
concern, but process separations are typically viewed in the order in which the inks are
printed: yellow first, then magenta, then cyan, and finally, black.
In a spot-color project, one separation exists for each ink color to be used. This example uses
only two spot colors; its separations are shown above. The composite of the two ink
separations is shown simulated on screen (below), together with the tool palettes for
creating overprints and viewing the separations. Page layout so ware allows designers to
preview the separations individually, as well as the effects of printing one ink on top of the
other (surprinting or overprinting), whether at full density or in tints.
Most printers use ink formulas produced by manufacturers whose ink systems are standard
for the industry. There are several such manufacturers, and each produces a book of
swatches (shown above) printed with the actual ink colors and numbered for reference.
—
Because the ink swatches themselves are reliable (printers must mix specific formulas to
match them exactly), the designer must evaluate laser printer or inkjet proofs (which they’ll
also use to show clients for approval) against the swatches. A similar strategy as described
on the opposite page is useful for doing so: adjusting the CMYK color mix of the swatch in the
layout so ware and testing the results until the CMYK print output is as close to a given
spot-ink swatch as possible. A lot of spot-ink colors are difficult to match with CMYK printing
because their pigments are so pure—so when showing clients proofs, it’s always a good idea
to also show them the ink swatch so they can compare the difference.

Finding a CMYK equivalent to a spot color ink also can be notoriously difficult. Although
so ware does a relatively good job converting spot inks to process, the only reliable way to
achieve a close match is to compare a spot ink swatch to a process color guide (like the one
shown to the right)—which presents combinations of different percentages of the four
process colors in a matrix.
Color Production in Print Media After calibrating software, display
monitors, and printers (as well as different kinds of print reference for any
given project), a designer must also consider the physical properties of ink
and, further, the processes involved in different kinds of printing
techniques. Not all inks are made using the same chemicals (water-based,
soy-based, oil-based, rubber-based, resin-based); some printing techniques
use similar kinds of ink and others entirely different ones; and every kind of
printing process one might consider presents both limitations (and
possibilities) that can allow for or prevent certain kinds of color
manipulation from even being possible. Even digital printing processes vary
in the way their inks interact with paper and other substrates. It can be
overwhelming, but it’s critically important that designers understand basic
printing mechanics to ensure quality results (in general); and, more to the
point here—that they can maximize the pros and minimize the cons of a
particular printing process to best achieve the most accurate and effective
use of color for any given project.
The inks used in the most common, commercial printing method (offset lithography) are
translucent: Elements may be printed in one ink color or another, at different densities, and
separated from one another; and they may be “surprinted,” (on top of each other) to create
new colors, as shown above. Surprinted colors will generally be darker and less saturated
than the pure ones. Choosing ink colors thatare deeper and more saturated to begin with
allows for a wider range of possible combinations and contrasts.
Given that offset inks are transparent, considering the paper stock on which they’re printed
becomes important—because it will change the appearance of those inks’ color. Even a light-
colored stock (one that is cream-colored, or a cool, light gray) will perceptibly alter a color’s
temperature. Boldly colored stocks, of course, will radically change the appearance of any
ink: A blue logo, printed on yellow paper, will become green. That said, mixing papers of
different colors for the very purpose of altering a single ink color is an exciting possibility.
Overlapping spot colors creates a rich color interaction among typographic and graphic
elements in this detail of a financial report. The two ink colors are a brown and a blue, both
relatively dark in value (the brown is visible in the upper le -hand corner of the image; the
blue appears at the image’s far right). Carefully controlling tints, reverses, and overprints
of each results in a huge range of possible contrasts.
UNA [AMSTERDAM] DESIGNERS / NETHERLANDS
Speaking of paper stocks: They’re all different, and not just in their look and feel, but in
their formation. How a paper’s fibers are distributed, and how densely, affects the paper’s
absorbency; the looser the formation (top), the more ink will be absorbed from the surface—
and the duller the result. Tightly formed papers (bottom), as well as papers that are coated,
or that have latex or other chemicals mixed into their fibers (what’s called “sizing”), keep
ink on their surfaces for greater vibrancy, or “holdout.” The latter will also hold sharper
detail.
Printing matte, spot-color inks on a metallic paper stock produces the interesting effect of
the inks themselves appearing metallic. On this media kit folder, the desaturated blue-violet
ink accompanies a warm silver ink whose metallic content sits on the paper’s surface for an
even more dimensional effect.
PETTIS DESIGN / UNITED STATES
VARIETIES OF IMAGE TONING

Also called a monotone, an image printed using a single ink color is called a color hal one.
The top image is printed directly on a white field; in the bottom image, the color hal one is
shown crossing over a supporting color, which changes the appearance of the hal one’s
color.
When an image is printed using two ink colors, the result is a duotone. The image at the top
is printed using two similar color inks to enhance its overall tonal range; in the lower
example, the image is printed using two ink colors that are very different. Similar to a
duotone, a tritone (no example shown) results from printing an image using three different
ink colors.
By using image-manipulation so ware, the amount of a given ink color applied to specific
tonal ranges in an image can be adjusted. In this example, the two colors used in the
duotone are distributed differently. In the top image, color one has been pushed toward the
shadow range; in the bottom image, color one has been pushed toward the highlight range.
Similar to duotoning or tritoning in spot-color printing, an image might be colorized or
toned overall in four-color process, or CMYK, printing—called quadtoning. Because the
image is being produced using the four process colors (cyan, magenta, yellow, and black),
the possible color variation within a single image is endless, as indicated in this example.
Different images within the same project, of course, can be quadtoned in different ways.
The two projects shown above take advantage of opaque inks used in their printing
processes by printing light colors onto dark-colored paper stocks. The envelopes (top)
screenprint white ink onto a green stock; the invitation uses engraving to print a copper ink
on a deep blue-black stock.
BR/BAUEN / BRAZIL ↑
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↓
BRETT YASKO / UNITED STATES ↓↓
Surprinting a field of red ink on top of found, make-ready sheets means budget-conscious
production with interesting visual effects in the poster (above), produced using offset
lithography. The ink’s transparency allows a haze of the surprinted image to show through.
The result is that positive and negative space become more ambiguous. The red bar becomes
flat against the photographs, but the reversed-out type seems to come forward in space, as
does its positive repetition, below.
BR/BAUEN / BRAZIL ↑
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↓
BRETT YASKO / UNITED STATES ↓↓
Considering Fabrication Materials Physical materials contibute visual
and tactile interest to a form language throught their surface qualities (see
chapter 1, shown here); and they offer a similarly exciting potential in terms
of color. There’s no requirement for a designer to choose a white paper for
print projects—papers are available in all hues, and there are even options
preprinted with different colors on each side of the sheet. There are metallic
papers as well, and actual metal sheets that may be printed on or used to
fabricate packaging. Industrial metals like steel, aluminum, copper, and
brass may be used for fabricating kiosks, signs, and trade show displays;
these, along with glass, wood, stone, concrete, textiles, and plastics all carry
intrinsic colors in their unadulterated forms that can readily integrate as part
of a planned palette. On the other hand, materials tell stories and carry
associations; if they’re used for fabricating a box or sign because their
meaning is conceptually relevant, their intrinsic color can become the basis
of a palette. In any case, a designer simply has to consider each material’s
color attributes as they would any others.
A tiny sampling of various paper stocks suggests the overwhelming number of exciting
options available for introducing color beyond the use of ink into printed projects. Choosing
papers that already carry significant color is one way of minimizing printing costs (because
fewer inks may be necessary for visual interest, or to achieve a particular palette, because
of the material itself). On the other hand, integrating color with papers or other materials is
just fun.
WOOD

In day-to-day practice, many designers overlook the rich color variations in different species
of wood or other kinds of natural materials—until they find themselves working on a three-
dimensional project like storefront displays, wayfinding or architectural signage, or interior
finishes as part of a graphics program. Very o en, fabrication in such projects will focus on
less expensive, industrially produced materials (like plastic veneers) that can be had in any
color or pattern. When a project calls for it, however, and its budget allows, considering the
authenticity and associated narratives of more architectural materials also means
contemplating how their natural coloration will integrate with other elements throughout.
METAL
STONE

Graphic designers are o en called upon to extend brand languages developed for print and
online applications into their clients’ physical locations. These three projects—a gym
(above), a theater (below), and a product showroom (second image below)—all show the
imaginative use of not only materials, but lighting, to translate the color of brand messages
into captivating spatial experiences.
VBAT / NETHERLANDS ↑
TOORMIX / SPAIN ↓
PEOPLE DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓↓
The projects shown above and below showcase the potential of using found materials
(whether paper stocks, fixtures, or accessories) with their as-is coloration as an integral
part of a project’s color concept. Choosing a naturally colored cra paper to wrap a
catalogue of flooring materials, shown at near right (and further, crumpling it) conveys the
product line’s concept, “Nature, refined,” in two ways: a transition from rough to smooth;
and a comparison of brown (natural, desaturated orange) to bright, elegantly shiny copper
(the logo). In the image below, vivid green utensil holders, dishes, and other containers
were selected for a restaurant’s interior in tandem with choosing its equally saturated
brand color to enhance synergy between printed and environmental messaging.
FUMAN / NEW ZEALAND ↑
MIRELDY / CROATIA ↓
 CHOOSING AND USING TYPE

The typographerʼs one essential task is to interpret and

communicate the text. Its tone, its tempo, its logical
structure, its physical size, all determine the possibilities of
typographic form. The typographer is to the text as the
theatrical director to the script, or the musician to the score.
ROBERT BRINGHURST/Typographer and poet; from his book, The Elements of Typographic
Style, Hartley & Marks Publishers

IN THIS CHAPTER:
STRUCTURE AND OPTICS
Type is fascinating—and really complicated—simply because it’s simultaneously visual and
verbal. Before getting deep into that complexity, best to start with the basics: the anatomy of
letters; visual distinctions between typeface (font) structure; and basic considerations of size and
spacing in text.

ISSUES RELATED TO STYLE

The most common question about type is “What font should I use?”—and there’s no single
answer. A font’s style may be more legible than that of another; it may carry historical or cultural
associations; and its abstract qualities themselves may convey ideas. This section unpacks those
issues.

THE MECHANICS OF TEXTSETTING

So, you’ve got some text and picked a font. Now what? Making text easy to read (and beautiful!)
requires obsessive attention to details that you’ll discover here: different options for aligning text
lines; how long they should be and how much space between them; and the intracacies of
paragraphs and punctuation.

TYPE IS VISUAL, TOO

It’s super important to keep in mind that type is an abstract visual language, not just a verbal one.
The relative scale, mass, density, proportion, and shaping of text, as this section shows, must be
considered in the same way that one does images—to transform writing into a dynamic
expression of meaning.

TYPE AS INFORMATION
Ultimately, the visual qualities of type—alone, or in tandem with accompanying images—
contribute to a viewer’s ability to navigate a text: What kinds of information am I looking at? What
is most important? How do I get from there to the next part? This section explores the
complexities of hierarchy.
 STRUCTURE AND OPTICS

The Nuts and Bolts The letters of the Western (or Roman)alphabet are
built from a system of vertical, horizontal, diagonal, and curved lines called
strokes. They’re all similar enough in their shapes, proportions, and the
ways they’re combined into letters to create a recognizable, consistent,
visual logic (which is crucial for undistracted reading)—but just different
enough so that every letter, or character, is easily distinguishable from the
others. The strokes are only one part of a character’s form: the negative
spaces, or counters, between and around the strokes of each character are
the other part. Over the past 2,000 years, the components of the characters
(including those of the numerals, or numbers) have acquired standard
names. These terms for the anatomy of character parts are general; they
apply to instances in every character that incorporates them into its
structure. We identify each character—an A versus a B or C—by the
specific parts that form its anatomical structure, its basic character
“skeleton,” or archetype. And we can do that, even when the individual
style of a letter or alphabet changes, because the archetypes are so simple.
FONT FAMILY

Most typefaces (fonts) are designed in different variations to provide options for styling text
to suit various purposes. These variations are called a “family,” and most families consist of
four basic variations.
CUT

Type designers will o en refer to what they call the “cut” of a font or face: a specific
interpretation of a font style as created by one designer or another. The three fonts at right
are all based on the style known as Garamond, and all are set in the Roman, or regular,
weight at the same point size. Even a quick comparison reveals significant differences
among these three cuts: heavier or lighter weight; larger or smaller lowercase; and relative
sharpness or so ness in the shape of the terminals, among others.

Being conscious of letters’ individual parts, and how they relate to each other, allows for
striking combinations of form, as seen in these two logos.
SELFTITLED / AUSTRALIA ↑
LUMINOUS DESIGN GROUP / GREECE ↓
Visual Variations The characters in all typefaces vary from their
archetypes in only six aspects: case, weight, contrast, width, posture, and
style. Type designers alter and combine the variables in these six aspects to
create individual type styles that, although appearing remarkably different,
all convey the same information about the letterforms in the alphabet.
Different type design approaches have become popular (then unpopular)
over time; as a result, particular type styles are often associated with
specific historical periods, cultural movements, and geographic locations—
some typefaces feel “modern,” “revolutionary,” or “French.” More
important, every typeface exhibits its own rhythm, or cadence, and a
distinct physical presence that may connote feelings—quick, aggressive,
elegant, cheap, or reliable. Not all viewers will perceive the same
associations in a given typeface; designers must carefully evaluate their
typeface choices in the context of both subject and audience. Further, a
typeface’s drawing affects its functionality, making some more legible at
certain sizes, or better suited to certain uses than others might be.
Every letter in the Western alphabet occurs in a large form (the capitals, or the uppercase)
and a smaller, more casual form (lowercase. The uppercase requires added space between
letters to permit easier reading. The lowercase is more varied and more quickly recognized
in text.
The overall thickness of the strokes, relative to the height of the uppercase, might change.
Light, regular, bold, and black weights (increasing in stroke thickness) for a single type style
define a type family. Variation in weight helps to add visual contrast as well as to distinguish
between informational components within a hierarchy.
The strokes within the letters of a typeface may be uniform in weight or may vary signifi-
cantly; the more they do so, the more contrast the face is said to exhibit. Contrast within a
stroke (such as flaring from thin to thick) is called modulation; the rate at which this occurs
is referred to as the typeface’s ductus.
Letter-widths were originally based on the proportions of a square. Contemporary width
proportion is slightly more condensed overall, and letters in a given font are designed to be
visually equivalent in width—generally, about 80% of their height. A font's width may be
narrower (condensed) or wider (extended) compared to this medium width.
Roman letters are those whose vertical axis is 90° to the baseline; they stand upright. Italic
letters, developed by humanist scholars during the Renaissance, slant 12° to 15° to the right,
mimicking the slant of handwriting.
This term is used to describe (1) the two major classes of type—serif (having little feet at the
ends of the strokes) and sans serif (having no such feet); (2) the historical period in which
the typeface was drawn; and (3) the relative neutrality or decorative quality of a typeface.
Typefaces that are neutral are closest to the basic structure, while those with exaggerated
characteristics are said to be stylized, idiosyncratic, or decorative.
The designer of this book uses letterform variation to achieve extraordinary contrast—a
difference in weight (light and extra bold) and a difference in style (serif and sans serif).
ASTRID STAVRO STUDIO / SPAIN
What Size Should I Use? This question is probably the most common
among designers; as basic a question as it is, there’s no formula. Type size
is measured in points, a hold-over from when type was set in metal for
letterpress printing. Equally anachronistic, current design software
programs offer historical point-size options because metal type sets were
cast in specific, standard sizes. Designers can set type at any point size they
like: 9.35 points or 87 points, and so on; sticking to the standard options
isn’t necessary. Most often, the question about type size concerns what’s
best for reading extensive, long-form text, as one finds in a book, magazine,
or website. Historically (yet again), type sizes between 9 and 14 points are
considered “text sizes,”—and even though that range is useful as a start, a
lot of important variables come into play: the style of the type; how much
information is involved; how many kinds of infor- mation are present; the
purpose of the text; the size of the given format; the predominant age of the
audience; how much contrast between text and background; the color of
type and background; and the delivery medium.
Note the disparity in size between sans-serif examples (le column) and serif examples
(right column) of the same point size.
The same word is set here two different faces, but both at 45 points in size. Because the
sans-serif lowercase letters are larger in proportion to the caps (having a larger x-height),
that text appears larger than does the serif text. Always evaluate the size of a text, set in the
font you’ve decided to use, to determine whether it’s legible—rather than assuming that a 9-
point “text size” will be legible. The oldstyle face Garamond, for example, will be difficult to
read when set at 9 points, while the sans serif Helvetica will seem gigantic.
SANS-SERIF FONT SAMPLES

Still, having a model for sizing against which to compare is pretty helpful. Many publica-
tions with extensive text (like magazine or newspapers) use a transitional serif set at 9
points in size—and it seems like most people find that comfortable. Why fight it? Whatever
font you’d like to use, compare it to a sample set in a transitional serif, like Times Roman,
and adjust its size until its x-height matches that of the Times’ lowercase. You’re pretty
much guaranteed that your text will be legible in the font you’ve chosen. For reference,
shown above are comparisons of Times Roman (to the le in each pair) set at a size of 9
points, with a selection of various other, popular fonts, also set 9 points in size.
SERIF FONT SAMPLES
In a spatial environment, like the exhibition shown above, the size of the space and the
relative distance between viewers and the type both play a role. But, given how large the
space is, as well as how viewers can approach surfaces, greater leeway for size contrasts is
possible. The two projects below present an intimate reading scale, so the text sizes used can
be much smaller. Still, the text sizes in each are a little larger than is typical. The brochure
spread, just below, uses a size of roughly 11 points to help the text activate space. The
website, at bottom, also uses larger point sizes than might be typical for print media, simply
to account for the screen’s lower resolution.
L2M3 / GERMANY ↑
C+G PARTNERS / UNITED STATES ↓
IDEAS ON PURPOSE / UNITED STATES ↓↓
The strength of a typeface’s stroke weights will present optical size disparities between type
printed positive, on a light background, and in reverse, on a dark background. Generally, a
typeface will appear smaller and denser if reversed from a solid field. Typefaces with small
x-heights, extreme contrast, or extremely thin strokes overall usually need to be enlarged
slightly to ensure their strokes are robust enough to hold up against ink gain that might
affect their legibility.
Spacing: Loose and Tight One important goal when setting text is to
create the appearance of a regular texture: a consistent, rhythmic alternation
of strokes and counters repeating at the same rate, from beginning to end.
The primary purpose is to prevent distracting readers with dark spots
(where strokes are closer) or gaps (where they’re further apart) that will
interrupt their reading. Even spacing between letters, or kerning, and overall
among words and phrases, or tracking, creates a uniform gray value out of a
field of extensive text; in shorter-length, larger elements like titles, even
spacing helps hold the letters together as a unit (sometimes, it prevents
readers from separating smaller words embedded in larger ones). Spacing
type evenly is challenging because letters are of different densities (over- all
darker or lighter), are made of very different shapes, and the directional
thrusts of their strokes are highly varied. Digital typefaces are programmed
to add or subtract space from between different kerning pairs of letters to
provide for most circumstances of letterform combination, but not all.
Invariably, a designer will need to do some correcting.
Optical spacing for the Univers regular weight is shown, compared to mathematically
spaced or overly tight or loose spacing. The optimally spaced lines (second line) show a
consistent rhythmic alternation between dark (the strokes) and light (the counterforms),
both within characters and between them. Dark spots are evident in the examples spaced
too tightly, where the strokes are closer together between letters than within them.
Compare the normal spacing of these faces to those of the bold condensed style of Univers
(A), the italic serif (B), and the high-contrast modern serif (C); note how the internal logic of
the stroke-to-counter relationship in each provides the clues to their optimal spacing.
Uppercase letters are more uniform in width and shape than lowercase letters, as well as
optically more dense; to enhance their look and legibility, all-uppercase setting must always
be spaced a little more loosely than normal.
Spacing between words is also an important consideration. Too little space (A), and readers
will have difficulty separating the words for easy comprehension. Too much, on the other
hand (B), will create distracting gaps that destroy the evenness of stroke/counter
alternation; and the wordspaces may visually connect from line to line, disrupting the
horizontal sequencing. The rule of thumb is that the spaces between words should appear
as though one set a lowercase i in between them and then removed it (C).
Tightening or loosening the spacing between these pairs of letters corrects for the awkward
counterspaces inherent in their forms. Shi ing the lowercase y to the right, under the right
crossbar of the T, for example, allows the spacing between them to become optically similar
to that of subsequent letters.
In this logotype, loose letterspacing makes a more distinct rhythm, improves the legibility of
the all-uppercase setting, and obviates spacing problems that might have occurred among
certain letter combinations (for example, X and P) if they had been spaced normally.
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES

Always evaluate the spacing needs of a type component on a case-by-case basis. Some
letters in a particular word are going to cause unresolvable problems, either because of
their dramatic asymmetry, deep counters, or overall density. When presented with a word
(or phrase of reasonable length), take time to correct the spacing throughout based on this
worst-case scenario. In this word, nothing really can be done about the enormous counter
following the L. To make sure it doesn’t make more of itself than it needs to, the remainder
of the line was spaced more loosely (still in the “normal” range) to minimize the effect of the
L counter.
The rhythmic relationship between strokes and counters in letters are consciously
overlooked in text, they are called out in bold relief when type becomes very large, as seen in
this dynamic poster.
2X GOLDSTEIN / GERMANY
The same words, set first at 14 points in size and again at 6 points (top). Uncorrected, the
spacing in the smaller type is inadequate for good character recognition. Adding space
between letters in the bottom line greatly improves their legibility and their look. Printing
exacerbates the issue of space between letters, especially at smaller sizes. Ink bleeds when
it hits paper; as a result, the space between and within letters is made smaller. Trying to
judge proper spacing on a monitor, with its coarse resolution, is nearly impossible; a laser
printer or an inkjet printer creates some bloating in the type but not nearly as much as will
happen on press. A designer’s prior printing experience will help him or her judge these
spacing issues.
 ISSUES RELATED TO STYLE

Classification Classifying type styles helps designers grasp the subtle

differences among them so they can more easily select appropriate
typefaces for a particular project. A given font’s abstract drawing qualities
(as embodied by its style classification), as well as its historical or cultural
context, plays a significant role in the readability of a text as much as it
contributes relevant narrative and tone to a typographic design. Classifying
type styles is by no means easy, however, because every generation of type
designers incorporates historical stylistic ideas into the styles of their own
times. The typeface Meta, for example, drawn in 1994, shares
characteristics associated with oldstyle serif types of the 17th century:
contrast in the stroke weights, modulation of weight within major strokes,
an oblique axis, and a bowl-formed lowercase g. Various systems for
classifying type have appeared during the past couple of centuries. Today,
as then, these classifications often change—but a few basic categories
remain constant. It’s important for a designer to be familiar with style
classifications to make informed decisions—plus, it’s fun and geeky, and
good for trivia contests.
OLDSTYLE SERIF

Characterized by organic contrast of weight in the strokes—from brush or pen drawing;

an angled, or oblique, axis in the curved forms; and a notably small x-height defining the
lowercase letters. The terminals are pear shaped and the apertures in the lowercase
letters are small.

Bembo
Cochin
Fournier
Galliard
Garamond
Requiem
Sabon
Verdigris
TRANSITIONAL SERIF

These types show an evolution in structure. Stroke contrast is greatly increased and
more rationally applied: its rhythm is greatly pro-nounced. The x-height of the lowercase
is larger; the axis is more upright; and the serifs are sharper and more defined, their
brackets curving quickly into the stems.

Baskerville
Caslon
Century Schoolbook
Mercury
Sentinel
Times Roman
MODERN (NEOCLASSICAL) SERIF

Stroke contrast is extreme—the thin strokes are reduced to hairlines, and the thick
strokes made bolder. The axis of the curved forms is completely upright, and the brackets
connecting the serifs to the stems have been removed, creating a stark and elegant
juncture. The serifs in a number of the lowercase characters have become completely
rounded, reflecting the logic of contrast and circularity.

Bodoni
Dala Floda
Didot
Walbaum
SANS SERIF

These typefaces are an outgrowth of “display types” of the 19th century, designed to be
bold and stripped of nonessential details. They are defined by a lack of serifs; the
terminals end sharply without adornment. Their stroke weight is uniform, and their axis
is completely upright. Sans-serif types set tighter in text and are legible at small sizes;
during the past fi y years, they have become acceptable for extended reading.

Avenir
Bank Gothic
Franklin Gothic
Futura
Gotham
Helvetica
Meta
Univers
SLAB SERIF

Another outgrowth of display types, slab serif faces hybridize the bold presentation of a
sans serif and the horizontal stress of a serif face, characterized by an overall consistency
in stroke weight. The serifs are the same weight as the stems, hence, “slabs;” the body of
the slab serif is o en wider than what is considered normal.

Archer
Clarendon
Glypha
Museo
Quadra
Vitesse
GRAPHIC

These typefaces are the experimental, decorative children of the display types. Their
visual qualities are expressive but not conducive to reading in a long text. This category
includes specimens such as script faces, fancy and complex faces inspired by
handwriting, and idiosyncratic faces that are illustrative or conceptual.

Baby Teeth
Barnum
Linoscript
Stencil
Umbra
In the flyer above le , stylistic differences in a selection of typefaces give voice to the varied
writing styles of Irish authors in this festival program. A combination of Victorian wood
types emphasizes the visual contrasts of weight, width, mass, and line in the book cover
above right, as well as conveys relevant time and context.
AAD / IRELAND ↑
LOUISE FILI LTD. / UNITED STATES ↓↓
The designer of this book uses a bold sans serif face for dramatic contrast against the
textural image, but also a modern serif whose thicks and thins echo the image’s textural
qualities.
MUCHO / MEXICO
All of the typefaces in this poster are contemporary designs, even the serifs. The mix of
styles adds dynamic contrast, but because the serif is recognizably nonhistorical, there’s no
distraction from the overall modern feeling of the layout.
TOORMIX / SPAIN
Style Is in the Details The visual, functional, and aesthetic qualities of
every typeface (making it one style or another) involve intricate contruction
relationships and details that are nearly invisible when type is set at small
text sizes. Blow up the characters of a few type styles to compare them—
even ones from the same stylistic category—and their tiny differences
become shockingly pronounced. The shapes of strokes, and even of their
terminals, change from face to face. Especially in older typefaces, these
differences express evidence of the tool used to draw them. Similarly, the
way that strokes join within a given individual character can also vary
tremendously, face to face, as well as among the characters’ joints within
the same typeface. Things get yet more complicated among the curves,
whose radii may vary between being exceptionally circular and tightly
pinched; and further, the rotational axes of circular forms, like shoulders
and bowls, is individual to every style. Looking at and appreciating these
details helps think about how to choose and combine faces to achieve both
stylistic unity and contrast—if you know what you’re looking for.
STRUCTURAL PROPORTIONS

The body widths of alphabetic characters—how tall they are compared to their height—vary
from typeface to typeface, creating a specific rhythm between strokes and counters. The
counters in condensed typefaces become similar to the weight of the strokes as the overall
letter width decreases, creating a rapid alternation of positive and negative that may seem
to speed up the reading rhythm, adding increased energy or tension. Conversely, the
counters in extended faces tend to slow the reading rhythm.
—
The ratio of the lowercase letters to the uppercase letters, or their x-height, is extremely
important to consider. The larger the x-height is in relation to the cap height, the more open
and inviting the counters of the lowercase letters will be, increasing their legibility. At the
same time, a larger x-height means the lowercase is expanding to decrease the amount of
space between lines, resulting in an appearance of greater density and a larger point size.
BOWLS / SHOULDERS / AXES

The lower part of such large circular forms as O, D, and G (the bowls), and the upper part of
such curves, as well as the upper curves on the uppercase R, or the lowercase P and F
(shoulders)—might be rounder or elliptical or squared off. Comparing these forms within the
same face will reveal subtle variations, but these curves will share a logic that will be very
different compared to another typeface, even within the same class. The axis of the curved
forms changes also, being slanted in older styles and completely upright in more modern
ones.
APERTURES AND EYES

The entry into the counters of letters such as the lowercase E and A, what is called the
“aperture,” may be tight or more open. Small, closed-off counters, or “eyes,” appearing in
letters such as the lowercase E and G, also vary considerably in shape and proportion.
ASCENDERS AND DESCENDERS

The movement and extension of these strokes above and below the body of the lowercase
are important details. Some ascenders strike the capline, while others rise above it;
descenders, too, may be deep or shallow compared to the body of the text. The larger the x-
height, the more shallow the ascenders and descenders tend to be, creating greater density.
The height and depth of these strokesinfluence how tightly lines of a given typeface must be
leaded, as well as on feeling or character.

Even more so than in the setting of extended texts, the graphical details of different type
styles become especially pronounced in logotypes.

Column 01
MOLTOBUREAU / UKRAINE
GRAPEFRUIT / ROMANIA
MUBIEN / SPAIN

Column 02
HELMUT SCHMID DESIGN / JAPAN
MADE IN SPACE, INC. / UNITED STATES
JELENA DROBAC / SERBIA

Column 03
DAVID AIREY / NORTHERN IRELAND
PHILIPPE APELOIG / FRANCE
MANUEL ESTRADA / SPAIN
JOINTS AND BRANCHES

A great deal of a typeface’s character is found where the strokes of letters meet: when these
joints are smooth and fluid, the typeface may feel organic, relaxed, or casual; faces with
abrupt joints may seem geometric or formal.
STROKE FORMATION

Letters of uniform strokeweight produce a consistent, less energetic, rhythm across a line;
letters with contrasting stroke weights will seem to pulse or move across the line with
greater energy. Some faces show contrast within a single stroke—usually a flaring in
thickness from the midpoint of the stem outward to the terminals. This feature, called
“modulation,” is typical of older styles. The “speed” of the transitions between thicks and
thins is called the face’s “ductus.” Pronounced modulation, and quicker ductus, also impart
a more vigorous feeling; less modulation, and more passive ductus, result in the opposite.
GRAPHIC DETAILS

Many faces are distinguished by decorative details whose qualities o en carry specific
associations. There’s no way to compare these typefaces since they vary so much, other
than to appraise the effect of the graphic details on legibility (stylized face are likely useful
only for larger-sized display applications); on their ability to visually relate to other kinds of
elements in a layout; and to evoke visceral emotional and conceptual responses that are
relative to the content.
TERMINALS / SERIFS / SPURS

The shapes of a typeface’s terminals affect its apparent sharpness and rigidity, causing it to
seem casual or elegant, older or newer, or comforting or more austere. Terminals might end
perpendicular to the angle of a stroke or might be angled against it. Serifs vary in shape as
well; they might be angled or perpendicular, so er or more sharply cut, and even round.
Spurs (terminals that extend away from a stroke’s expected cutoff) are vestiges of older,
brush-drawn styles—but also are found in sans serif faces. The lowercase A is o en the site
of a spur, as is the lowercase G and B.
The Right Face for the Right Function Whatever other goals a designer
may have when deciding on the typeface(s) to use for text elements, his or
her first consideration must be its legibility. Of the 500,000 fonts available,
a relative few are considered useful for continuous text—500, perhaps. Of
those, even fewer are thought of as well constructed and aesthetically
pleasing. The subjective nature of “pleasing” means that there can be some
allowance for individual taste but, typically, one must repress stylistic
biases in favor of functionality. There are a small number of typefaces that
designers often refer to as “workhorses” for their reliably utilitarian, time-
tested quality of construction. In addition to basic ease of character
recognition, designers also must consider: the type’s purpose (extensive
reading or short bursts?); where the type is doing its job (up close, in a
book, or on road signs, from varied distances and under extremely different
lighting conditions?); and how many different jobs the type must do in a
given space (how flexible does the typeface have to be?).
All of the details within a typeface, working together, render it as useful (or not) for
extended reading. The overly stylized nature of the typefaces applied to the text specimens
at top prevent serious consideration of them for anything but headlines or, perhaps, short
callouts. Still, startling distinctions in tone and energy accompany typefaces that initially
appear far more neutral and are, therefore, functional for extended reading: compare the
dramatic differences each time in the feeling of the same text, set in comparatively neutral,
“workhorse” faces.
A custom, sans-serif face of exaggerated angularity is appropriate for the titling in this
poster that promotes a performance of a Soviet-era symphony, riffing as it does on Cyrillic
type forms—but it’s far from ideal for detailed information at a small size. For secondary
information, the designer deploys more neutral forms (shown larger in the detail below);
clearly legible, these font styles create specific relationships of contrast with the title’s
features.
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES
The designers of this website made a wise decision when choosing to style the navigation
links, at top, in a sans serif. Compared to print, digital displays are low resolution, and are
able to support only a certain amount of detail. The serif used for the head- line is fine for a
larger-sized setting; but to achieve the kind of size contrast between content text and
navigation necessitated a font that would remain visually intact when set very small—one
with a uniform stroke weight. Setting the navigation links all uppercase further ensures
that they’ll be easy to read at their small size.
ESIETE / MEXICO

Information has different levels that each need to be visually distinguished so readers can
figure out what’s what. Too many style changes, however, can create a distracting,
disunified hodgepodge. The book shown here has a very complex hierarchy of informational
levels (see here). Each type of informational component—headline, subhead, deck, text,
caption, and subcaption—is given its own unique style, but all the styles are selected from
related families: a sans serif and a serif that have been designed to work with each other.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
The Right Face for the Right Tone Selecting a typeface for its feeling or
mood is a tricky endeavor based on a designer’s gut reaction to the rhythm
or shapes inherent in a particular style. Every typeface, whether neutral or
stylized, will feel either fast or slow, heavy or light, sharp or soft; these
qualities, too, are attributed to the interplay of counterspaces, stroke weights
and contrasts, joints, and so on. The drawn details of a typeface may evoke
physical or natural experiences. When thinking about choosing an
appropriate typeface, look at the images that accompany the text or think
about objects or places related to the text’s subject matter as inspiration.
Cultural, historical, and scientific subjects, for instance, may point the way
toward typeface options that capture similarities in relevant artistic or
architectural expression, diagramming, notation, and so on. Many typefaces
also conjure associations with pop-culture motifs because of their common
use in advertising. Being conscious of all these conceptual and stylistic
possibilities will help narrow the choices and result in the most appropriate
decision.
Three different words, each loaded with different potential meanings, are set in a selection
of typefaces—the same faces every time. It’s interesting to note how each typeface affects
the perception of a given word, calling attention to a particular meaning or sense… and how
the same typeface affects each of the other words, as well.
Display faces o en are dramatically styled; they attract attention and convey ideas about
context and feelings precisely because they’re not neutral. The design of the book cover,
above, integrates a decorative uppercase serif whose proportions and serif details are
characteristic of faces designed during the period in question, and which suggest Cyrillic
letters. In the poster below, a mash-up of exaggerated font styles conveys a fun, casual
atmosphere; the letters’ varied proportions and details helps them integrate with the image
elements, which share a similar visual langauge.
JANET HANSEN / UNITED STATES ↑
HUNGRY STUDIO / SLOVAKIA ↓
The publications above and below (a financial report and a history of the auto maker
Mercedes-Benz, respectively) strike an elegant, authoratative tone through restrained use of
well-cra ed text faces. The financial report’s serif is evenly proportioned, exhibits even
textural value, and suggests careful, factual analysis. The history book’s sans serif,
similarly even in texture, recalls similar fonts debuted at the time the company formed; its
industrial quality is both scholarly and metaphorical.
UNA (AMSTERDAM) DESIGNERS / NETHERLANDS ↑
L2M3 / GERMANY ↓
A combination of relatively stylized text faces in this sample magazine page retains
editorial seriousness and permits detailed differentiation of hierarchic components, but
carries the right amount of edginess to be appropriate for its subject matter.
FINEST MAGMA / GERMANY
Combining Type Styles The conventional wisdom is to employ no more
than two type families for a given job. This rule aims to promote clear
hierarchy: the greater the variety of typefaces, it is reasoned, the more
difficult it will be for readers to categorize and remember the meanings of
different treatments among informational components. This rule, however,
is also about aesthetic unity in the visual language. Context, of course, plays
an important role in deciding whether or not to stick to such a limitation. If
a project’s complexity or expressiveness requires seven or eight typefaces
to communicate appropriately, so be it—but choose wisely. The only
reasons to add a typeface are to clarify the distinctions in a hierarchy or to
gain an effect of contrast, and so the contrast achieved by the combination
should be relevant and clearly recognizable. But somewhere in the mix, a
formal relationship must exist between the contrasting fonts to enrich their
visual dialogue. Robust contrast in one characteristic that’s counterbalanced
by equally appreciable similarities in other characteristics creates a
sophisticated tension.

Within a single family, variations on weight, width, and posture lend an extraordinary range
of textural and rhythmic changes that might have an effect on communication. Note how
the word “dynamic”—set in members of the Univers family—changes in presence, cadence,
and spatial location (foreground or background) as width, weight, and posture are changed
in each.

Sometimes, the reason for mixing faces is functional: The bold weight of this text face isn’t
much different from the regular weight; a bold face from an alternate, yet similar, family can
e substituted. Note the similarity of the spurs, terminals, and other details between the two
faces.

In choosing to mix typefaces, select counterparts with enough contrast, but be aware of
their similarities as well. In this example, the serif and the sans serif are radically different
in stroke contrast and detail, but their construction is similar—take note of the slight
angularity of the curves; the oblique emphasis in the O’s; the joint angle in the lowercase a;
the abrupt joint in the lowercase b.

Combining two typefaces of the same style classification typically results in stylistic
confusion. The two transitional serifs seen here, for example, aren’t different enough to be
appreciated as different.

Replacing one of the transitional serifs above with a slab serif delivers recognizable
contrast; another slab serif with more uniform stroke weight, but dotlike serifs, creates a
different, more subtle contrast.

The geometric slab serif above is paired, this time, with a modern or Neoclassical serif for an
extreme contrast.
This combination of two sans serifs—the stylistic differences of which are even more subtle
than those of serifs—is almost pointless: it seems as though the designer couldn’t decide on
one, or couldn’t tell the difference between them.

The roundness and heaviness of the geometric sans serif, paired here with a more graceful,
condensed sans serif, establishes a stark dot-to-line contrast as well as one of weight.
Adjusting the sizes of each face to more closely match each other’s weights maintains this
formal relationship (and its contrast) while creating a more quiet impression.
The designer of this book selected one typeface style (whether a singular font or a family)
for each kind of information—running text, image captions, callouts, and titling. Each face
shares some attribute of proportion or detail while contrasting others.
VERA GORBUNOVA / UNITED STATES

All of the typefaces combined in this logo share pronounced contrast in stroke weight, which
helps unify them given their radically different stylistic traits and proportions. Each
element has been scaled, relative to the others, to standardize the weights of the thin and
thick strokes among the varied forms.
C. HARVEY GRAPHIC DESIGN / UNITED STATES
A popular—and decisive—approach to combining type styles is to choose a sans serif and a
serif. In the book design above, a bold sans serif for headings is supported by a lighter
weight of the same sans, and text is set in a serif with which it shares some structural
qualities.
ASTRID STAVRO STUDIO / SPAIN
 THE MECHANICS OF TEXTSETTING

Legibility and Readability Setting “good type” is an art and a craft that
addresses concrete, optical considerations (how we see) and almost
unquantifiable, intangible qualities related to habit and convention (what’s
comfortable to read). The term legibility concerns the first part: the aspects
of typesetting that allow us to easily recognize characters and distinguish
them from a backgound. In contrast, has to do with the ease with which
we’re able to focus on the act of reading, how we make sense of the bits and
parts of language, maintain a sense of order, and so on. It probably won’t be
surprising to discover that (like all the rest of typography) that crafting an
agreeable—and more so, beautiful—reading experience through textsetting
requires intensive attention to detail: the number of characters in a line of
text; the spaces between lines; the distribution of phrases from line to line;
the shapes that lines of text make; and even the smallest details of
punctuation within. Appreciated all together, readers experience reading as
an engaging, fluidly seamless, stimulating experience, the result of the
designer’s relentless tooling of a text.
A comparison of character count for a selection of typefaces, at varying sizes, is shown set
on the same paragraph width. As with all typographic rules, there is a range to what is
comfortable for the average reader. Given a fi y- to eighty-character comfort range, it is
easy to see that a paragraph must widen as the type size increases and narrow as it
decreases, to maintain the optimal number of characters on a line.
Comfortable interline space, or leading, varies according to several characteristics in
typeface style and size; but generally, the interline space should seem a point or two larger
than the height of the lowercase running as text. Because the x-height varies so much
among faces, a designer will need to judge the leading appropriate to the appearance of the
lowercase, rather than try to assign a leading to a point size by way of a specific formula.
The Optimal Paragraph
Text excerpted from The Elements of Typographic Style by Robert Bringhurst

In this study of a paragraph, the variables of type size, spacing, leading, and
paragraph width are tested to arrive at a text setting that results in the most
comfortable spacing, the least hyphenation, and a decisive rag. During this
study, it might become clear that several options for width and leading are
optimal, but a designer will need to choose one as a standard for the
publication. The choice that the designer makes has implications for the
page size, the number of columns of text that might fit on it, and optimal
sizes for other text groupings, such as captions, callouts, introductory
paragraphs, and so on.

Initial Setting (top) Set solid; the activity of the ascenders and descenders, and a relatively
large x-height, create an uncomfortably dense setting. Furthermore, the rag shows
indecisive lengths, as well as inclusions, and there are two hyphenated breaks in sequence.
Second Setting (above) Same leading; adjusting the size to 8 points alleviates the density
and somewhat improves the rag shape; however, the size is too small for the width of the
paragraph to be optimal (fi y to seventy characters on each line).

Third Setting (top) A slight increase in size, and narrowing the paragraph, regains legibility,
optimizes the character count (to sixty-five per line) and creates a more active rag. The
leading still seems a bit dense, and there are problems with the rag and excessive
hyphenation.
Final Setting (above) Another slight decrease in the paragraph width, an added point of
leading, and decisive rebreaking of the lines yields a paragraph with a comfortable texture,
an optimal line count, minimal hyphenation, and a beautiful rag. From this ultimate
paragraph, the typographer is ready to consider how to structure columns and supporting
treatments for elements such as callouts and captions.

A quick glance at the text blocks in this book cover reveals an enviably even texture—and
this, in justified setting (see here and here), which is notoriously difficult to achieve. As with
the final ragged setting above, right (see the next page), the point size of the text has been
optimized relative to the width of the column. Because this text is set in Polish, the ideal
character count/width ratio is different, because Polish words and grammatical rhythm are
different than those of English. Every language has its own optimal setting characteristics.
PODPUNKT / POLAND
Text Alignment Lines of text in a grouping, or text block (whether a single
paragraph, or several, vertically stacked to create a column) can be
arranged to line up (or not) in different ways; these kinds of alignment,
shown below, create characteristic shapes: A hard edge created where lines
of different length begin at the same point (either on the left side of a block,
or on the right) is called the flush; the soft shape on the side where they
don’t align is called a rag (or, range in the UK and Europe). Alternatively,
lines may be arranged so that they’re the same length (aligning on both
sides); or, they may be arranged so that shorter and longer lines are centered
over each other, creating a symmetrical rag on both the left and right. All
text alignment strategies establish axes that helps designers relate text
blocks to each other, as well as to other elements—an alignment logic that
contributes to, and interacts with, the overall compositional structure and
rhythm in the space around them. Because each kind of alignment creates
visual conditions that emphasize different aspects of a text block (and,
sometimes, its internal spacing), they all affect a text’s readability.
FLUSH LEFT, RAGGED RIGHT

This is the most common (and the most contemporary) form of alignment for setting
extensive volumes of text. It’s considered ideal because the flush edge anchors the
presumed beginnings of lines, and the longer and shorter ines of the ragged edge create a
“map” that helps the eye maintain reading sequence; the word spaces are also uniform,
contributing to even texture.
FLUSH RIGHT, RAGGED LEFT

This alignment is never appropriate for more than 10–15 words of text because the reversal
of the aligned edge to the right of the paragraph (opposite that which is considered the
starting point of reading sequence in Western languages) creates a disturbing verbal
disconnect for readers (for readers of non-Western languages, the opposite is true).
CENTERED AXIS, OR CENTERED

This alignment is also inappropriate for setting more than 10–15 words of text. The problem
is that its outer contour’s shape visually overpowers the perception of the internal lines’
linearity, and the eye is continually distracted from following the sequence of text line by
line—which can become annoying a er a while.
JUSTIFIED

Text is also commonly set in this alignment structure, which dates back to antiquity. The
word spaces in a justified paragraph, however, vary because the width of the paragraph is
mathematically fixed, and the words on any given line must align on both sides—no matter
how many words or how long they are. This characteristic can create a number of challenges
a designer will need to address.
Centered-axis and flush-le alignments are mixed to great effect in this classically
influenced page spread design. The margins of the flush-le , asymmetrical text set on the
right-hand page are symmetrical and optically balanced with the material on the le .
CHK DESIGN / UNITED KINGDOM
While the title element in this brochure spread is broken into syllables and staggered back
and forth, the narrow column of text above it is set flush right, ragged le .
COBRA / NORWAY
The classical quality of centered textsetting in this website is an elegant counterpoint to the
sleek, modern quality of its type styles and product photography.
SIMPLE / AUSTRALIA
Both of these projects set their text flush le , ragged right (the common convention for most
text). In the book page spread at top, individual paragraphs of text set this way also stagger,
creating internal alignment relationships from top to bottom; in the web page just above,
the text alignments create a series of columns, differentiated by width and function.
MARTA GAWIN / POLAND ↑
STUDIO DIEGO FEIJOO / SPAIN ↓
Exploring the Ragged Edge Creating “good,” or desirable, rags in
asymmetrical text blocks (flush left or flush right) is an unavoidable
headache. The goal is consistency in the rhythm of shorter and longer line
lengths from the top of a paragraph to the bottom: an organic, unforced
“ripple” or “fringe”, without pronounced indents or bulges, makes reading
more fluid by minimizing distraction—the reader never becomes aware of
lines ending at their natural conclusions. Overly active rags, therefore, are
generally to be avoided. Ragging a text block well is painfully challenging
because language is organic—the words are what they are—and alongside
its visual quality, a designer must take the sense and mechanics of the text
into account. Not every word may be hyphenated (and so, broken from one
line to the next) just anywhere; sometimes phrases of related thoughts really
have to remain together on a line to not seem awkward or confusing. Using
hyphens to break long words that way is possible (and can help improve a
rag’s rhythm); but doing so too often, and in particular ways, can add yet
another distracting obstacle to readability.

Example of a paragraph showing a desirable rag (le ), and two paragraphs whose rags are
fraught with problems: the rag is either too deep or active; shows sharp inclusions of
negative space and protrusions of long lines; a contour with a noticeable shape; or irregular
width overall from top to bottom.
Hyphenated word breaks are a constant source of frustration for a designer. Too many
hyphens in a row are considered undesirable, and a slight adjustment in text size or
paragraph width might correct the problem. The three paragraphs shown here are set in the
same size text, with subtle differences. The first paragraph shows uncorrected hyphenation
and rag. The second shows a more active rag but no hyphens—a toss-up between desired
goals. The third shows a slightly wider paragraph and a more even rag; the only hyphen
appears in the second line. One hyphen every ten lines or so is optimal.

A ragged edge is considered appropriate for a given paragraph setting if it varies within a
fi h to a seventh of the paragraph’s width. A much more active rag, however, also is visually
interesting; the designer must, however, ensure that the rag throughout the project remains
consistent in its activity, rather than changing from page to page or even from column to
column. The more active the rag—meaning, the greater the difference between short and
long lines—the more attention is due the rag of both the exterior edge formed by the long
lines and the interior edge formed by the short lines.
Sometimes, there’s almost nothing to be done about a bad rag. The rag of a list formation,
for example, is impossible to control (top). Even though a list isn’t continuous text, its rag is
still a point of concern. One useful strategy to counteract this problem is to introduce
graphical line dividers of even length between list items to optically fill out the column they
occupy.
—
In long-form text with unusually long words, sequences that disrupt average character
counts, or text set in very narrow columns, purposely exaggerating a rag’s activity can help
hide unavoidable, undesirable rag shapes by making them appear more naturally a part of
the rag’s rhythm (bottom).
In most online textsetting, there’s no way to ensure consistent rags—simply because a
browser’s changing width and the user’s view settings obviate any decisions a designer
might make about line breaks. Wider paragraph widths aren’t usually ideal because they
mean greater than optimal character counts, but they also tend to exhibit more even rags
because they accommodate more variety. In a web layout, setting text in wider paragraphs
or columns can help a lot.
—
In a device-specific layout (a smartphone app or strictly mobile site), a designer is better
able to enforce line breaks as they like because the paragraph width won’t change
responsively.
The page spread from a book on genetic engineering shown here shows exquisitely
consistent, well-proportioned text rags—not only in the running text throughout, but also in
the differently styled lead lines that begin major paragraph sequences at the top of the le -
hand page and in the middle of the right-hand page. The remarkably regular alternation of
long and short line-lengths, the relative absence of hyphenated word breaks, and the
continuity of the columns’ overall width are evidence of an optimal relationship between the
text’s point-size (and resulting character count) and the columns’ measure (see The Optimal
Paragraph, shown here).
LUCY XÌN / UNITED STATES
Intricacies of Justification Setting text justified creates a super clean,
geometric text presentation. It introduces its own wicked problems,
however, in terms of readability and aesthetics. Well-justified text is
sublimely beautiful, stark, and austere; achieving the sublime requires that
all the text’s internal spacing is absolutely consistent, producing an
uninterrupted stroke/counter rhythm and gray value. Let the pain begin:
Inconsistent spacing is a given with justification because it forces different
numbers of words, of different lengths, to fit within a fixed width. This
condition creates three problems: the first is rivers (chains of word spaces
that join from line to line); distracting changes in the visual density of lines
(some appearing open and light, and others, compressed and dark); and
excessive hyphenation, more than one typically finds in ragged text. And,
then, there are aesthetic issues. Justified setting is considered truly beautiful
only when all of its components align cleanly in every way possible, and
the unpredictability of text makes that a difficult struggle. The reward, of
course, is beauty: elegant, crisp, and controlled.
 WELL-JUSTIFIED TEXT

The specimen of justified text above exhibits all the hallmarks of exquisitely well-justified
text: lines that are consistently spaced and that appear the same in overall density (none
tighter and darker, nor looser and lighter); the word spaces are normal (not relatively tight
or loose compared to the letterspacing for this type style); there are no rivers; and the
presence of hyphens is minimal.
 POORLY-JUSTIFIED TEXT
The specimen of poorly justified text above displays wildly varied word spaces and rivers,
lines whose density alternates between very dark and very light, and excessive
hyphenation. To correct these problems, a designer must continually adjust text size and
paragraph width, move text from line to line, and selectively tighten and loosen spacing.
Short version: If you set justified text and it looks anything like the example above, it needs
fixing.
The goal of justified setting is absolute, geometric cleanliness—and so rigorous control of its
external shape has historically been considered important. The baselines of lines of text in
one paragraph, or column, are typically made to align with others in paragraphs or columns
to the le and right—across a page or spread; the upper and lower edges of paragraphs and
columns are made to align with each other: everything justifies with everything else.
Further, such annoying details as quotation marks, commas, periods, and other
punctuationthat disturb the perfection of the aligned edges must be spaced—and
sometimes hanged outside the aligned edges—to prevent them from creating holes that
appear to “bite” into the text block.
The tightly justified columns of text in this asymmetrical layout reinforce the geometry of
the page. Weight changes within the text add contrast, and the spacing is consistent.
BRETT YASKO / UNITED STATES
Titles and short phrases are good candidates for justification when the goal is an
exceptionally “clean” or geometric presentation. Within the proportional area that defines
the justified structure, a designer will find numerous options for word breaks, and these will
present questions about internal sizing and spacing logic: In order to meet the outer edges
of the text block, will words on each line grow in size or weight? Or will the spaces between
their letters expand or compress? Or both? The resulting rhythmic weight changes also bear
consideration for the composition.
As with all texts, how one breaks the individual words of a title or short phrase—and what
that means for each line’s visual emphasis, based on size and space attributes—must
account for the text’s linguistic characteristics by emphasizing those parts that are
meaningfully important (nouns, verbs, adjectives)over those that are mere grammatical
connective tissue (conjunctions). In the top example, the emphasis is on the unimportant
(meaningless) words in the title; the opposite is true in the lower example.
The Column Discovering the optimal characteristics for main text (as
discussed on the previous page spread) leads to the next step: determining
how many paragraphs can be stacked on top of each other within the height
of a given format space to create a column—the primary structure for
extensive text—and how many columns might fit side-by-side on a page,
based on the optimal width. As with so much in typography, space is a
critical factor. Columns of text need ample room around them, or margins,
to help focus attention on their content and establish a clear, intuitive
reading direction, top-to-bottom and from column to column.
Simultaneously, columns of contiguous, sequential text must be situated
somewhat close together so that readers’ eyes will move effortlessly from
one to the next. To some degree, a designer must consider the number of
columns that can be presented on a page in relation to how much text can fit
there. That condition has implications for meeting a printed publication’s
specified page count; as well as how much room remains available for other
kinds of typographic information and imagery.

These three projects all show different kinds of column activity (justified to margins, at top;
rising and falling, just below; and hanging from a specified guide, following image below).
At the same time, they all designate different column widths for different kinds of
information as part of their textsetting structures.
CHENG DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↑
ANDREAS ORTAG / AUSTRIA ↓
TOORMIX / SPAIN ↓↓
Separating Paragraphs The conception of a paragraph as an informational
nugget emerged in the 1600s. Initially, a paragraph change was indicated by
a larger space after a period following its concluding sentence; a later
innovation introduced graphic marks, like bullets, as paragraph separators
—but the paragraphs still ran together. Later still, a new paragraph was
made to begin on a new line (a line return), but without space before it;
instead, it was signaled by an indent—where text starts a few character-
widths in from the left alignment. Indents work particularly well in justified
setting. Its depth is subjective but must be noticeable: deeper if column is
wider, or if the leading is loose (which both require a bigger “cut” to be
appreciated. A designer may exaggerate the indent for style, or to help
break up a “wall” of dense text by introducing a rhythm of cuts into the
column. Indents are usually not a great idea if the text is set flush right
because the line lengths on the left edge are already changing. Beyond
indents and returns, however, a designer’s options for distinguishing
paragraphs from each other in a column are nearly endless.

One-Em Indent
 Full Leaded Return

No Return: Multiple-Line Deep Indent

 Deep Indent

Proportional Leaded Return

 Ascending Cap: Full Return

Indent with Graphical Embellishment

Bold Subhead: Full Return

Drop Cap: Full Return

 Lead Line: Style Change

Proportional Return: Reversed Lead Line

 Hanging Indent

Full Return: Dingbat Divider

Full Return: Rule Divider

Full Return: Rule Divider

Bold subheads with a slight indent, along with a full leaded return, distinguish the
paragraphs within the columns of this layout.
CLEMENS THÉOBERT SCHEDLER / AUSTRIA
Okay, Now Deal with It: The Finer Points Many designers,even if
they’ve actively addressed orthographic detailing—which, despite being a
bit obsessive, is a pronounced part of basic text structure—further neglect a
huge number of other textsetting details in their work. Usually, the
problemis one of time: there’s only so much, and getting into the minutae of
really fine textsetting takes a while. On the otherhand, the predominance of
digital type use, in email writing, social media posting, and website text has
contributed to widespread ignorance of fine-tuned textsetting: it’s not really
needed in emails; text in a responsive context is constantly shifting in
proportion; the majority of web layout platforms lack the controls needed to
enable subtle spacing and sizing decisions; and so, people form bad habits.
Far from being wonkish, geeky, or overly compulsive, finessing one’s text
attributes actually aids readability by clarifying text relationships and
preventing distracting visual characteristics. Plus, it looks better! So—build
a couple of days into your project schedule to take care of the nitty-gritty
items considered here.
TO INDENT OR NOT TO INDENT?

In setting text in which paragraphs run together, separated by indenting the first line, the
first paragraph on the page should have no indent. Every paragraph therea er is then
indented—until the next major sequential break or subheaded paragraph, which should not
be indented.
DON’T CROSS THE CHANNELS.

When possible, avoid hard returns between paragraphs aligning (or nearly aligning)
between adjacent columns. As the horizontal negative channels created by the returns
approach each other, not only do they become distracting, but they also tend to redirect the
eye across the columns and break reading sequence.
CARE FOR THE WIDOWS.

Never allow a single word (a widow) to end a paragraph. If widows constantly appear in the
rough setting of a body of text, the column width should be adjusted. Ideally, the last line of
a paragraph should be more than half the paragraph’s width, but three words (no matter
their length) are acceptable.
WATCH THE BREAKS!

Avoid breaking words across lines (hyphenating) so that short or incomplete stubs begin the
line following: -ed, -er, -ing, -tion, -al, -ly. Make sure there are at least four letters in the
word ending the line before a break. Try to avoid breaking names from one line to another. If
absolutely necessary, however, break right before the last name—never in the middle of a
name and never before an initial.
MIND THE GAPS.

A single word space, never two, follows a period before the initial cap of the next sentence.
Furthermore, the space before a comma or a quotation mark should be reduced; these
marks “carry” additional space above or below them. Similarly, the word space following a
comma, apostrophe, or quotation mark should also be slightly reduced.
SAVE THE ORPHANS!

Don’t allow the last line of a paragraph to begin the top of a column. This “orphan” is
especially distracting if there is a space separating the paragraph that follows and really
irritating if it occurs at the very beginning of the le -hand page. Run the text back so that
the new page starts a paragraph, or space out the preceding text so that the paragraph
continues with at least three lines a er the page break.
SCALE YOUR SPACES.

For continuity, as well as distinction (and beauty, while we’re at it), the spaces between
different text components should be proportionally related to the needs of those
components, and harmonically to each other. It’s said that a picture is worth 1,000 words, so
above is a demonstration of spacing relationships considered desirable—from tightest
(between letters within words) to loosest (spaces between columns of text).
TOO MUCH IS JUST TOO MUCH.

In justified setting, adjusting the letterspacing to avoid rivers is inevitable, but don’t adjust
too much. Like rivers, overly tight (and therefore very dark) lines of text are distracting—
and so are appreciably loose (and therefore very light) lines of text. Most o en, the need to
continually tighten and loosen line a er line indicates that the ratio of character count to
column width isn’t ideal: so, rethink it.
KEEP ’EM UPRIGHT.

Use upright parentheses and brackets, even if the text in which they appear is italic. These
marks, in their sloped versions, appear weak and usually exacerbate the spacing problems
associated with them.
ITALICS NEED SPACING, TOO.

Italic used for emphasis within text sometimes appear smaller and tighter than its roman
counterpart. Always evaluate the italic and adjust its size or spacing to fit most seamlessly
with its surrounding text.
UH OH…SMALL CAPS!

Small caps used for acronyms, although smaller than uppercase letters, still need additional
space around them to improve their recognition. The small caps of many fonts are too small
and appear lighter in weight than surrounding text. Adjust their point size up by as much as
two points to achieve uniform weight and spacing, but not so much as to confuse them with
the uppercase.
A CLUE TO OPTIMAL SPACING.

Ligatures are specially drawn characters that correct for spacing difficulties in particular
combinations of letters. Because their counters are fixed spaces (for example, an “fi”), one
must assume that the font’s creator determined them based on their feeling for optimal
spacing in the rest of the font. If the ligatures within running text appear to be spaced
differently than the nonfixed characters around them, the text should be respaced
accordingly.
AVOID A SERIOUS CRASH.

The content within parentheses and brackets usually will benefit from additional space to
separate it from these marks, especially italic forms with ascenders that are likely to crash
into the marks if le at the default spacing. In particular, lowercase italic f, l, k, h, and many
of the uppercase letters will need this adjustment.
LOOK AT THE FIGURES.

Oldstyle, or text, numerals (designed for setting within lowercase text) are comparatively
irregular in proportion; their spacing typically needs adjustment to ensure seamlessness.
Lining numerals, which extend from baseline to cap height, usually require extra
letterspacing, just as uppercase letters do. Tabulated numerals are generally arranged flush
right or around a decimal point in vertical columns; lining figures are preferred to ensure
vertical alignment for making calculations.
STYLE YOUR BULLETS.

The default bullet is usually enormous and distracting compared to the typeface in which it
appears. The bullet needs to be noticeable but not stick out; slightly heavier than the text’s
vertical stroke weight is enough. Feel free to change the bullet’s typeface (or use a dingbat
or even a period, shi ed off the baseline) to bring it stylistically closer to the surrounding
text.
GET YOUR CAPS IN LINE.

Fun text inclusions like initial caps should be positioned and sized in relation to the text they
accompany. Set them on a baseline three, four, five, or more lines from the top of the
column, and indent the text lines adjacent at a comfortable measure. Every initial cap is
likely to be a different letter (of differing width), so find an indent measure that will
consistently accommodate the narrowest and the widest.
LEAD WITH STRENGTH AND CLARITY.

Lead lines distinguish the beginning of a paragraph (or, the beginning of a sequence of
related paragraphs). To do that well, they should be clearly different enough from the text
that follows them (whether that’s a subtle distinction or not is an aesthetic preference).
However they’re styled, they should be consistently applied: to the first three words in the
line, for instance, or the entire line, or following some other, equally clear formula.
BANISH THE UNCLEAN SPIRIT.

It’s generally reasoned that the purpose of setting a line of text all uppercase, or in small
caps, is to achieve a sharp, clean, line that lacks the distracting up/down activity associated
with the ascenders and descenders of lowercase letters. Great! Let them be—don’t initial
cap the caps. Doing so pretty much kills the cleanliness you were a er in the first place.
PUSH AND PULL.

Colons and semicolons need additional space preceding them and less space following
them. Exclamation points and question marks o en benefit from being separated from their
sentences by an extra bit of space. A full word space is too much, as is half a word space; but
+20 tracking, is usually sufficient.
ABOUT THOSE SUBHEADS.

Like lead lines, subheads in text introduce paragraphs—and so, also denote the end of the
ideas in the paragraph that precedes them. Subheads, therefore, should be more closely
spaced to the text that they introduce, and carry more space above them, so that this
relationship is clear. Otherwise, the subhead appears to float as an independent thought
between paragraphs.
SO IT’S NOT A LETTER.

The appearance of analphabetic symbols, such as the @, #, $, and %, and some linear
punctuation marks, such as the forward slash, /, are improved by slight sizing and spatial
adjustments. The @ usually appears too high on the line; the # and % display a diagonal
thrust akin to italic forms; and o en, these glyphs don’t match the weight of the text
around them. So look closely when they appear, and do what you gotta do.
FIND A GOOD FORMULA.

Subscript and superscript characters (used to indicate footnotes or in chemical formulas)

must be sized, spaced, and vertically positioned so that they flow seamlessly with the
surrounding text, but stand out enough to perform their notational functions clearly. The
examples above show typical size/position relationships, relative to the base-, cap-, and
mean lines—but by all means, find a way that works for you.
JUST DO THE MATH.

Fractions and other mathematical or scientific symbols mean something, and the way they
look tells us that they do—and what they do. Always set fractions using the proper glyph in a
font’s character set (rather than simply setting a slash between regular numbers e.g.,
“1/2”). The multiplication symbol (which is also used to separate dimensions) is not a
letterform X. Make sure you set the right symbols.
AND NOW, THIS…

Every now and then, an author omits some superfluous words in a cited quotation; or wants
a though to trail off, or to create a suspensful pause…Those events are marked by the three-
dot punctuation form called an ellipsis, and it’s an actual character—not three periods in
succession. An ellipsis typically is set with a small amount of space on either side (but not a
full word space) to further enhance its quality of denoting a linguistic gap.
YO! USE THE RIGHT MARKS!

There is no quicker giveaway that a designer is a total amateur than the use of prime marks
(or “hatch marks”) in place of apostrophes and quotation marks, of which there are two
kinds: an open quote and a closed quote. One is used to indicate the beginning of a
quotation (called “66” because of their shape), and the other is used to end a quotation
(called “99”). Please use accordingly.
KNOW YOUR DASHES.

There are three horizontal punctuation lines: Use the correct one for its intended function,
and adjust the spaces around it so that it flows optically within text. A full word space on
either side is too much, although there are times when this might be appropriate. The
default lengths and baseline orientation of each mark might need some tweaking: the
hyphen o en sits low, and the em dash is sometimes too long.
HANG YOUR PUNCTUATION.

Most punctuation marks—parentheses, brackets, bullets, quotation marks, and so on—

should hang outside the text in which they’re embedded if they occur at the beginning of a
line. Doing so creates a cleaner flush (aligned edge); in the case of bullets, it accentuates
their function, which is to highlight certain text items. Building a little more gutter space
between columns allows hanging punctuation to sit in them without interfering with text to
the le .
INVENT YOUR OWN PUNCTUATION.

Language is meant to be flexible (it’s possible to make a verb out of a noun, and vice versa,
for instance). So too is punctuation. There can be many ways of treating punctuation to
counter weird visual distractions or add a custom, imaginative quality to the micro-level of
text—so long as the treatment accomplishes the same purpose, or performs the same
function, as the conventional punctuation it replaces. This detailing is called “orthographic
style.”
OR, JUST GET RID OF YOUR PUNCTUATION.

Stylistically differentiating text elements that are separated by punctuation (a title and
subtitle divided by a colon, for example) visually accomplishes what the punctuation does—
which makes it redundant, and that means it can be removed if one likes.
HAVE A GOOD WRAP SESSION.

When “wrapping” text around an image (or, around other text), the space that the text
leaves around the image’s edges should be approximately that of the gutter space between
columns. Wrapped text along the right-hand edge of an image maintains a clean flush; but
on the le -hand side, ragged text leaves o en leaves a messy irregularity. The cure for that
is to select the text between the upper and lower edges of the image and set it to justify only
in that area.
This close-up detail of a table of contents shows how imaginatively something as mundane
as page numbering a list can be when its orthographic style is considered and customized,
rather than defaulting to the usual conventions.
PODPUNKT / POLAND
 TYPE IS VISUAL, TOO

The Dot/Line/Plane of Type Type doesn’t stop being abstract form

material simply because it says something. Many designers use type in a
way that visually disonnects it from other material, like images and graphic
shapes—as though it’s anything but dots, lines, planes, and fields of texture
—because it is just that. Recognizing this truth is challenging because one
constantly struggles to stop reading a text to focus on what it looks like. But
that’s exactly what must happen to generate not just functional reading, but
an optical experience that gives text added meaning. If type were simply the
fact of the text, it would be as simple as setting text all at one size, spread
from margin to margin, or “writing.” To become typography, the neutral
fact of the text must be transformed into an expression of what it means,
configured into a beautiful form. There’s a saying among architects (the
analogy is telling): “All architecture is building; but not all building is
architecture.” Type always has to be legible and readable; but it must also
be expressive and integrate with its surroundings. Seeing type for its formal
qualities helps type and imagery become equal players.
The white and black text on the le -hand side of the poster above create a visual rhythm of
lines, while literal lines on the right-hand side do the same, contrasting the planar quality
of the large titling. In the brochure spread just below, loosly spaced text forms horizontal
configurations of dots as a counter to the vertical lines of the word “vision.” The rotated, red
title on the book cover (next following image) reverses its usual, orthogonal structure,
resulting in three vertical bands of horizontal lines. The publication in the last image
integrates dynamic contrasts between rectilinearity, circularity, diaonality, and a variety
of weights.
MARTA GAWIN / POLAND ↑
ISOMETRIC STUDIO, INC. / UNITED STATES ↓
PODPUNKT / POLAND ↓↓
TRIBORO DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓↓↓
Typographic Color The way a designer places text elements within a field
establishes basic compositional order and structure that are fundamental to
navigating a text. It’s just as important (for the same reason, as well as for
creating a dynamic optical experience) to enforce a variety of visual
contrasts among the text elements. Called simply typographic color, the
notion is similar to chromatic color—like red, blue, or orange—but refers
only to changes in value (light/dark) and mass (plane, versus texture).
Moreover, typographic color is different from the qualities of chromatic
color in that it describes changes in spatial rhythm (looseness/tightness).
Changing the relative color of typographic components separates them from
the surface; it introduces the illusions of spatial depth and movement; and,
more importantly, it helps viewers identify and categorize the parts of a text
—creating hierarchy (discussed in depth in the next section, beginning
here). Designers will approvingly describe type as being colorful (even if
only levels of black, gray, and white are present) when it exhibits a lot of
change in its basic formal attributes.
The material in this poster is organized intuitively and spontaneously in an almost collage-
like or painterly fashion to orchestrate a colorful mix of dark and light, linear and dot-like
forms. This spontaneity is tempered by the influence of an illusory cube that helps create
dimensional breaks in space through a series of alignments among internal elements.
LUDOVIC BALLAND / SWITZERLAND
This web page is typographically very colorful, even though it uses only black and tints of
gray. The callout of the word “One,” by setting it in solid black, reinforces the brand image
and idea of singularity. The deeper density of the second paragraph makes the call to action
more pronounced; secondary information is set smaller and in lighter tints of gray to help
clarify the hierarchy.
RESEARCH STUDIOS / UNITED KINGDOM
[A] Changes in size create differences in perceived density and weight change, despite all the
elements being regular weight.

[B] This strategy is enhanced by changing the weights of selected type elements as well.
[C] The application of bold weight has been swapped among the various components for a
different spatial effect.

[D] This example shows the use of width changes, rather than weight changes, to achieve
similar spatial color in a sample of running text.
[A–C] These examples show a progressive increase in leading—from very tight (A) to very
loose (C). When the leading is tight, the type is more texture than line; the block is optically
dark and seems planar. As the interline spacing increases, linearity comes to dominate, and
the block visually lightens.
[D, E] The planar proportion of a text block alters its directional thrust, as well as its
perceived color. The horizontal block (D) seems darker and more linear, as compared to the
vertical one.
[A] Extremely tight spacing, and the resulting overlap of strokes, creates pronounced dark
spots; the individuality of the letters is compromised in favor of overall linearity and mass.
[B] In normal spacing, the linearity of the word dominates the individuality of the letters,
but the alternation of stroke and counter is more regular.

[C] Loose letterspacing causes the dotlike individuality of the letters to dominate.
[D] A word set in a condensed face (top) is visually darker than one set in an extended face
(middle), if spaced normally for that typeface. Bolding the extended setting regains a dark
value and suggests vertical compression, in tension with the extended face’s lateral
expansion.
The designers of this foldout brochure have focused on textural density, the proportions of
columns and negative spaces, and contrasts between dot-like and linear formations
(achieved through spacing changes). The linearity and textural qualities of the text are a
stark contrast to the giant image dots.
LSD SPACE / SPAIN
Punctuation and ornaments (o en called dingbats) have the potential to introduce a
tremendous amount of typographic color, as seen in the typographic branding approach
used for the on-air graphics of a cable programming channel, shown at le . Even when used
sparingly, as in the web pages below, elements like small bullets and larger quotation
marks, as well as other graphical forms like lines and tonal bands, will enliven typography
without sacrificng its seriousness.
GRETEL / UNITED STATES ↑
IDEAS ON PURPOSE / UNITED STATES ↓
Tonal changes between background and text forms, together with geometric, linear
detailing, creates an elegantly subtle, yet still dynamically colorful experience in this
brochure for a photographers’ agency.
TRIBORO DESIGN / UNITED STATES
Alignments, Masses, and Voids Because text elements are so geometric
(essentially lines and rectangles) and usually orthogonal
(vertical/horizontal) in nature, their individual beginning and ending points,
and their shapes’ edges, call exceptional attention to their axes. We’re
hyper-aware of how these axes line up (or don’t), the directions they move
our eyes, and how close together they are—which makes us even more
aware of the relative shapes and weights (or masses) of the text are located
and, even more critically, where they are not (the negative spaces, or voids).
Type does a lot of tricky things to our eyes, but the interplay of positive and
negative, of mass and void, discussed in the first chapter is actually much
easier to appreciate with type because its geometry is so glaringly specific.
Alignments among type-mass axes connect them compositionally, as well
as meaningfully. The voids between masses similarly group related
informational chunks (if smaller) or distinguish them as unrelated (if
larger); at the same time, the relative compression or expansion of the voids
adds vitality, activating them as dynamic compositional components.

Visual structure, relative to the format, is created when the elements are positioned
decisively to subdivide it and, thereby, create differentiated shapes of negative space. Still,
the type elements exhibit no structural difference to help distinguish them. Massing some
elements and separating others creates focus and movement. The alignment of particular
elements establishes a similarity of meaning among them; separating an element from the
primary alignment creates distinction or emphasis.
The flush, or aligned, edge of the paragraphs on the right-hand side of this brochure spread
create decisively proportioned channels of space and opportunities for strong contrast (the
curve of the bird icon against the top le corner of the text), as well as a color change in the
title across the axis.
VOICE / AUSTRALIA
The tension between positive and negative space—and the invisible linear connections
between elements—is what drives typography. Here, the proportions of the negative spaces
are created by the positive type elements, alternately contrasting and restating them.
Alignments between the edges of positive forms establish potentially meaningful
relationships and help activate spaces across the composition.
These posters demonstrate the visual power a designer commands with regard to creating
rigorous compositional structure and activating space—using very few elements. In the
poster above, the three heavy elements optically splice the format into an upper and lower
area and create a triangular axis, but it is the very light column of text that most
emphatically establishes a set of proportionally related rectangles of negative space. In the
concert poster to the right, some alignments are sharp and rigorous (between the dates at
upper right and the small, secondary text below them), while most other elements decisively
avoid alignment, creating a fluid movement that contrasts the noted vertical flush. A subtle
wave pattern exaggerates this movement, further activates space, and creates a division
between two informational zones.
ASTRID STAVRO STUDIO / SPAIN ↑
STUDIO MARVIL / CZECH REPUBLIC ↓
Novice typographers o en gravitate toward a strategy of flushing text items le when they
appear on the le -hand side of a format, and flushing them right when they appear toward
the right of the format. One problem with this strategy is that it pushes the aligned edge of
the text outward from the central area of focus and positions it close to the format’s edge—
effectively destroying its presence. Aligned text edges are one of the most potent
compositional devices a designer has for breaking space and creating clear structure: try to
position them away from format edges to make them appreciable. A second problem that
sometimes arises is that ragged edges (on either side) will come into quasialignment with
flush edges; but the indeterminate quality of a ragged edge can never be decisively aligned
with something that’s sharply defined.
The respective designers of the website, top, and the book, below, take liberties with the
internal text spacing of various elements. Justified blocks of text, under the influence of the
browser’s variable width, reflow the text within their containers to create unusual (and,
sometimes, challenging) configurations that create new shapes of space and positive
texture. The irregular spacing of the book spread’s titling element—not only between words,
but between baselines and mean lines among them—plays off the geometry and axes
established by the inset image, by-line, paragraph, and graphical element in the image
below.
LUMINOUS DESIGN GROUP / GREECE ↑
PODPUNKT / POLAND ↓
The edges of letter strokes in the gigantic title are used as alignment points for text and for
intrusions of geometric negative space into the column; this spatial area is activated by the
large red callout.
FROST DESIGN / AUSTRALIA
The central axis of the circular logotype on this sticker (one component of a branded
stationery suite) provides a structural anchor for text elements of different sizes and
weights; as these elements pivot back and forth across the axis, they carve up the
surrounding spaces into a variety of interesting shapes and proportions.
MOLTOBUREAU / GERMANY
In the page spread below, alignments among groups of text rotate around the outer edges of
the format: that of the title against the le edge; that of the two columns below it, against
the bottom edge; and that of the two columns on the le -hand page, against the top edge.
The result is a mimicking of irregular voids on the opposing sides of each grouping.
MARTIN OOSTRA / NETHERLANDS
The Verbal Is the Visual More than simply a tool for clarifying hierarchy,
typographic color naturally grows from the way we write: the order of
nouns, verbs, adverbs and adjectives; the repetition or alternation of
particular sentence structures; the cadence of wordplay; and the changing
emphasis in tone of voice. These verbal qualities are the ultimate source for
typographic color, not just to provide intriguing eye candy, but to help an
audience feel the conceptual and emotional import of an author’s words.
Changing sizes, weight, or posture within lines of running text (even in
individual words) dramatically characterizes a text, improves
understanding, and enhances readability. A bold type element is visually
“loud”; words of similar meaning, made visually similar, reinforce each
other. It’s about giving the reader the chance to find something of interest or
heightened importance. Strategically approaching typographic material in a
sensory way, giving it the visual quality of its sounds and cadence, is a
powerful means of creating a more vivid verbal experience of a text;
further, doing so can rapidly help clarify an appropriate hierarchy.
The text in these examples is powerfully altered by changing the typographic color of its
internal parts. In the first version (top), a strategy of overall size change affects the sense of
the text’s loudness, creating a crescendo. In the second version (middle), calling out specific
parts through changes in weight, posture, width, and spacing produces a rhythmic journey
—slowing down, speeding up—for the reader. In the bottom version, color changes are
applied to distinguish linguistic and conceptual relationships among different parts of the
text; the result is rhythmically dynamic and supports the interrelationships of the author’s
ideas. This approach provides the added bonus of giving the reader a snapshot of the
content before fully engaging the text.

The performative quality of a text is a great source for typographic style. In the poster at r
ight, weight and size change reflect changes in volume and emphasis in the text. The sound
and the meaning of words are o en connected; in the examples below, sound and meaning
are linked through visual expression.
MAREK OKON / CANADA ↑
CHRISTINE CHUO / UNITED STATES ↓
TAMMY CHANG / UNITED STATES ↓↓

The meanings of individual words—on the shopping bag, above; the logo, just below; and
the poster, at bottom—are the sources of their respective, clever typographic treatments. In
effect, each one becomes an image of what it says (see more about type as imagery shown
here, in chapter 4).
BR/BAUEN / BRAZIL ↑
ASCEND STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
LSD SPACE / SPAIN ↓↓
“Meaning” can refer to what a text says, as well as to ontext and written structure. In the
book spread, above, the dialogue of each speaker in a conversation is characterized by a
different font treatment, while notations and marginalia are highlighted in color. The
overlap of the type in the package below refers to the action of “pressing.” On the business
card shown at bottom, the accent mark over the E in “metrica” becomes a branding device
when it’s highlighted as a measured interruption in the bold graphic line above the word.
EARSAY / UNITED STATES ↑
SABOTAGE PKG / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
INFINITO / SPAIN ↓↓
 TYPE AS INFORMATION

What Means What? Information is systematic. It’s a collection of parts,

each having a different meaning (the idea conveyed by what each one says).
Each part also serves a different function: some parts introduce a general
idea, others expand on it in greater depth and detail, and still others may
qualify it, evolve it toward a related idea, or even reinterpret it. These
various parts repeat in different combinations from one space or area of a
communication to another. Viewers need to be able to rapidly identify these
parts and visually understand what their functions are; and by seeing how
these parts interact in a consistent way, come to understand how the
sequence, and relative importance, of the ideas all fit together—so they can
move through texts efficiently and accurately comprehend them. One of a
designer’s most important tasks is to give information an order that allows
the viewer to navigate it. And—you guessed it—just like the ordering and
emphasizing of pure abstract form (shown here), this ordering is called a
hierarchy, and it’s simultaneously visual and verbal. A designer’s first step,
then, is to identify a text’s parts and what they do.

INFORMATION KIND GENERAL

Titling Conveys major subject of a communication; includes subtitles,
headlines, and introductions (decks)
Primary text Main content; dominant, extensive volume of text
Secondary text Supporting information within, or derived from, the primary text:
callouts or pull quotes
Tertiary text Supporting information that supplements a primary text; usually
relatively extensive: sidebars, glosses, commentaries, and
testimonials
Notations Detail elements that describe or qualify primary or other texts, or
sometimes act as headings or titles for sidebars or diagrams: labels,
folios, runners, list numbering, annotations, margin notes,
footnotes.
Tables Presents information in a matrix (grid), sometimes in list form;
typically used for locating content (like a table of contents), but
may present numerical, financial, or statistical data (graphs).
Lists A number of related names or categories written consecutively, one
below the other; includes indexes and bibliographies

Infographics Charts, graphs, and diagrams that typically present statistical data
or specialized illustrations of complex materials o en of a scientific
nature (anatomy, engine parts, etc.)
Instructions Step-by-step descriptions of a procedure for accomplishing a task

Strict alignment relationships (horizontal and vertical), column measure differences, and
graphical lines work in concert with typographic color and style treatments to order a
variety of informational components and give them distinct characters in these two
projects.
GARBETT / AUSTRALIA ↑
STRUKTUR DESIGN / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
Editorial Conventions Designers and printers have been exploring ways to
visually order and distinguish the parts of text from the time moveable-type
printing first appeared in the 15th century and throughout the explosion of
mass media that followed. Most of the approaches they developed for doing
so responded to specific kinds of informational levels that writers gradually
introduced themselves. Over time, especially as some forms of mass media
(newspapers and magazines, for instance) became commonplace, writers,
designers, printers, and publishers standardized the kinds of informational
parts they used to organize text and began to use them consistently for
specific functions (verbally, as well as visually). Designers, editors, and
publishers alike are oddly obsessed with jargon, so it shouldn’t surprise
anyone that they eventually named all these hierarchic text parts, which
makes it easier to discuss them while working with them. Every designer
needs to know what they are…and to be aware that sometimes people
working as editors in book publishing, versus in magazine or web
publishing, will use some terms a little differently.
Hierarchic Strategies: Structure All text, of every kind, looks equally
important in raw form. Placing it as is creates a uniform field of texture.
Contradicting some previously discussed ideas, the uniformity that is
desirable to keep a reader moving through extensive, continuous text must
purposely be broken. The goal here is the same as that for “straight” visual
hierarchy: differentiating elements to create fixation points that will be
interpreted as deserving attention and, therefore, important. The most
immediately effective strategy for doing so is to separate text chunks
spatially. A designer might group the majority of elements together, but
separate a specific element—the headline, for instance. Spatial relationships
between text elements also establish a sense of meaningful relationship
between them: As noted, those that are close together will be perceived as
similar or corroborative in meaning, while those further apart will be
appreciated as less so. Changing the relative density (tightening or
loosening interline spaces), aligning or not aligning axes, and altering the
rotational orientation of text blocks all accomplish similar results.

Major changes in structure between individual elements or groupings of text are first step in
helping readers distinguish the basic levels of a layout's hierarchy: what the parts are, how
many, and which are made to be appreciated as more important because of how dissimilar
they are from the others. In comparing the general strategies shown here, it will probably
become apparent that trying to effect one kind of change in isolation is nearly impossible;
most o en, several kinds of structural change will corroborate each other simultaneously
(for example, alignment deviation may also intrinsically entail a change in proportion or
proximity). And, of course, each kind of structural change will mutually influence the effects
of the others.
Of particular interest is the way that rotating a text element (Orientation change, in the row
shown above at le ) can either make it less important (because it interferes with character
recognition) or more important (when the rotation is applied to an element within a group).
This ambiguity exemplifies how the effect of any given approach is highly dependent on the
context in which it's applied—as with so many things, the "rules" are never hard and fast.

In each of the alternate studies for a CD insert page, above, the designer examines the
interplay between vertical and horizontal alignment divisions of the space, and their effects
on which informational elements rise to importance over others, as well as which kinds of
information seem to become more, or less, meaningfully related or sequenced. All three
structural approaches create dynamic, and equally navigable, compositions. Similarly, the
designer of the book cover studies below—while also exploring the potential of formal
contrasts like weight (discussed on the next pages)—focuses primarily on the effects of
alignment deviation and rotation. It’s interesting to note that, in the cover below far le , the
very bold title positioned in the lower-right corner reads a er almost every other text
element, despite its size and darkness.
HELMUT SCHMID / JAPAN ↑
JROSS DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓
Limited formal contrasts in size and weight, while still appreciable, are secondary to the
overall structural gestures that define this page spread’s hierarchy. The most pronounced
structural deviation is that of the rhythmic- ally bouncing, loosely spaced word, “blue,”
followed by a contrast between asymmetrical columnar groupings and centered-axis
callouts. Rotated elements, further diminished in their relative importance because of their
smaller point sizes, provide editorial notation.
MARIELLE VAN GENDEREN+ADRIAAN MELLEGERS / NETHERLANDS
Hierarchic Strategies: Formal Contrast Similar to the way that viewers
rely on comparisons of spatial proximity and alignment to identify
hierarchic levels, so too do they make assumptions about the roles of
informational components because of their appearance. Here’s where
typographic color acts to make a hierarchy abundantly clear and visually
dynamic at the same time: Using fonts of contrasting weight and style;
setting some elements all uppercase while others remain set in lowercase, or
some roman while others are italic; underlining or boxing text elements,
and so on—all work to add visual interest and differentiate the various text
components. To establish similarities of relationship, a designer must assign
treatments to specific kinds of information and use them consistently. Text
elements set in the same font, at the same size, will be assumed to mean
similar things or be closely related in function—and vice versa. There are
two kinds of caption in this book, for example, and they are each styled
differently to denote what they do (describe diagrams or describe designed
project images) so that you, the reader, can easily pick out each kind.
While structural hierarchies tend to distinguish major informational groups from each other,
formal or stylistic (color) changes most o en account for secondary distinctions within
groups (like the difference between running text, subheads, and callouts within text). That
said, formal changes also o en distinguish major informational components (title versus
subtitle, for instance). The same treatment, oddly, can emphasize or de-emphasize
information depending on how it’s used: a good example is that of posture change, at le .
—
Formal contrasts work both visually to distinguish text parts and verbally to link related
functions or meanings embodied by text elements. Being specific about assigning a
particular kind of contrast to a certain level or kind of information—and then applying that
treatment consistently to like kinds of content—helps readers navigate material by
systematically coding it throughout.
—
Further, in the examples on the follwing pages (as with those on the previous pages), you'll
appreciate several kinds of formal contrast working in concert to enhance hierarchic
distinctions among elements.
Some list configurations are very complicated, containing several internal hierarchies—
parts within parts within parts. This detail of a concert calendar, for example, shows the
mutlitier hierarchy of information for each calendar date (the date itself, with performance
time and venue; the featured repertoire, ensemble, soloist, and musical director; and then a
listing of other works to be performed). The designers apply several kinds of contrast within
each group to define its parts; those contrasts decrease in presence from one group to the
other: All uppercase, bold and regular, at a larger size, combined with bold and regular, set
upper- and lowercase at a slightly smaller size (the repertoire/ensemble grouping); and
then bold and regular, upper- and lowercase, punctuated by heavy bullets (for the
supporting works grouping). The calendar date heads the listing at a much larger size, set
in a high-contrast, bold serif face.
TOORMIX / SPAIN
This website uses a structural contrast—a change from horizontal field to vertical, and
asymmetrical setting to centered, to distinguish content area from menu flyout—and within
each field, changes in weight, case, and value to create secondary levels.
ASCEND STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM
Changes in spatial position and proportion distinguish two major levels in the hierarchy of
the layout above le . But, it takes the added formal contrasts in size and color to
successfully make readable the overlap that results between the two text blocks. In the
newspaper design, above right, extreme contrasts in size and weight distinguish issue
number, title, and main content list from a horizontal band of smaller, lighter-weight,
secondary information. The bold simplicity of this strategy is needed to ensure adequate
hierarchic focus and ease of entry as a counterpoint to the complex, multilayered image
material.
CLEMENS THÉOBERT SCHEDLER / AUSTRIA ↑
BACHGARDE DESIGN / SWEDEN ↓
Unity and Distinction Contrast in typographic color (font style, posture,
rhythm, and so on) is super helpful for creating a clear hierarchy. Too much
difference, however, will create a visual disconnect: The danger of pushing
stylistic differences between informational components is that, as a totality,
the project will appear busy and lack a fundamental cohesion or “visual
voice.” This is one reason why designers are admonished to employ only
two or three type styles in a project and, as often as possible, to combine
styles that share substantially similar qualities in width, stroke formation,
curve radius, and so on. Minute changes are easily recognized, and so
readers need not be hit over the head with an optical baseball bat every time
the content requires differentiation. Most simply: If everything is visually
different, all of it is equivalent in value. Limiting stylistic differences to just
what is needed to signal informational change allows the reader to
understand such changes while maintaining visual unity. It’s always best to
first ask “What’s the least amount or kind of change needed?” and then, if
necessary, incrementally amp it up.
Considering stylistic options for a type hierarchy can be much like that for developing a
color palette (see here and here in the second chapter). It’s an apt analogy: one is,
essentially, formulating a palette of typographic effects that will be applied to various
elements. In this case, those effects will create an informational form language as well as an
optical one; visual contrasts will mean something on a verbal level.

Like the strategy outlined for basic optical combinations of color, the diagram below shows
basic stylistic relationships to consider, but within a neutral three-level hierarchy that’s
independent of function (meaning, these could represent headline, text, and caption, or
some other combination of informational parts). Here, therefore, the understanding is that
each kind of style will signal a specific kind of information. As with color palette, a
typographic palette need not be limited to the relationships shown; and several kinds of
relationship, or even several individual “palettes,” may be combined to address the needs of
more complex information.

Same family, different weights Same family, different widths Same family, different weights
and widths

Sans-serif bold and roman; Sans serif bold and roman; Sans serif bold and roman; serif
serif roman (similar structure serif roman (contrasting italic (similar structure and
and details) structure and details) details)

Bold, angled sans serif; slab- Angled sans serif; slab serif; Angled sans serif; sans serif and
serif roman and light (squared- rounded sans serif (similar serif (both geometric, sharp,
off curves) weights) rounded)
Extra-bold sans serif and slab Extra-bold sans serif and Bold slab serif and roman sans
serif, both similar proportions geometric (neoclassical) serif serif; oldstyle italic (line/dot,
and dot-like characteristics (round); condensed, light curve/angle,
(weight/posture) sans-serif italic (linear, geometric/organic, sharp/so )
diagonal)

In the first version (above) of a composition, informational components are distinguished

through radically different treatments. While this makes for very clear recognition of the
hierarchic elements, nothing unifies them stylistically—each element has its own quality. In
the second version (below), the treatments are stylistically related—through proportion,
style, weight, spacing, rhythm, and so on—without losing the basic visual qualities that
helped distinguish the type elements in the first place.
The respective designers of the magazine (above) and the book (below) each approach how
their “palettes” of typographic style and color serve to distinguish informational levels and
provide visual interest—while still creating a sense of unity—from very different
standpoints.
—
The vast majority of the hierarchy in the magazine presents itself in a single serif family, set
only in a variety of weights and sizes. That strategy clearly unifies everything; the designers
achieve contrast by combining the more extreme weight variants (extra bold and light), and
by forcing a similarly extreme size change between upper-level titling/intro groups and the
running text. A supporting sans-serif family (of multiple weights) appears only at a reduced
scale, as labeling in the infographics. The sans serif is slightly condensed and, so, of similar
proportion to the serif.
—
In the book, three font families appear: a high-contrast serif for text (and its bold italic, set
in a large point size, for quotations); a monospaced “typewriter” font, for margin
notations; and a sans serif, for text subheads, titling (not shown here, but shown here), and
folios. The fonts are highly differentiated in style, weight, size, and spacing, but they share
body proportion. As the reader encounters them in continual alternation, they’ll appreciate
a consistency in rhythm throughout that counteracts the fonts’ visual differences to create a
different kind of unity in the whole.
STUDIO MARVIL / CZECH REPUBLIC ↑
MUCHO / MEXICO ↓
Scales of Contrast To consider hierarchic levels for how separate in
emphasis they might be, it’s useful again to think about a song: Its melody,
harmonies, supporting instrumentation, and percussion are each a level in a
hierarchy. Each level can be appreciated through a degree of sonic
difference; the separation between melody and harmony is relatively little,
while the separation between those and the instruments is pretty big. A type
hierarchy can work the same way, using a “scale” of color difference among
hierarchic levels—in which the degree of difference between each is
visually “proportional”; and in which more subtle differences distinguish
sublevels within them. A designer confronts a different kind and complexity
of hierarchy in every project, so any scale considerations must grow from
its specific attributes: How many levels are there? Do all of them need to be
differentiated by color or style, or can some share traits and be
differentiated only through spatial relationships for a simpler appearance?
How different must each level appear so as to be easily distinguished? Do
the “jumps” between each level appear equal or not?
SIZE SCALE

The notion a typographic contrast scale is first illustrated here by two sets of text specimens
(each representing three levels in a hierarchy) to demonstrate a scale based solely on point
size. A moderate and extreme scale are shown for comparison, along with their respective
ratios of change.Degrees of differentiation may be defined mathematically but, most o en,
they are established intuitively.
WEIGHT SCALE

Typographic weights, unlike point sizes, can’t be scaled mathematically: the weights
available in a given font are what they are, and so font choice is a determining factor in how
pronounced the scale differences might be. Jumps between levels may be even, or they may
be uneven: less difference between two, and more between those two and another. Such
compression can also be applied to size.
WIDTH SCALE

Similar to those of weight, scales of width depend on the availability of condensed and
extended variants within a given font family. If a width scale seems especially relevant for a
project, choose a font family with a wide range of widths; most families that comprise
multiple widths also happen to include as many weights.
VALUE SCALE

A scale of relative darkness and lightness in tonal value can be applied regardless of any
other contrast scale used, and it may also incorporate relative opacity and transparency.
Because value relationships affect type so dramatically (especially with regard to legibility),
keep an eye on how extreme the scale becomes.
CHROMATIC SCALE

A chromatic scale, like one of value, will be independent of whatever stylistic variation is
applied. Its parameters will be defined by the project palette’s hue relationships, but the
extension of the palette’s hues can be considered in relation to how the hues are applied to
larger/heavier and smaller/lighter type. Relative saturation offers another variable.
STYLE SCALE

The notion of a style scale can be interpreted in any number of ways: Classification from
older period to newer; more organic in form to more geometric; generous curve radii to
those that are pinched or squared off; stenciled, to thick/thin, to uniform stroke weight; a
dot-patterned font to one with dot-like ball serifs. Those possibilities are shown here, but
they’re not the only ones.
The answers to these last two questions, “how much different?” and
“proportionally equal in difference or not?” often depends on three factors:
the complexity of a text’s hierarchy, the speed of information delivery, and
the size of the project’s format. A quick rule of thumb: The less complex
the text, the faster the delivery, and the greater the amount of format space
(compared to text volume), the more dramatic the scale of contrast;
generally, the opposite will also be true. The visually proportional contrast
difference between each level in the scale may appear equal, or it may be
that some levels are distinguished by less contrast, and others more so: in a
poster, for example, a designer may intuit that the top- and mid-levels are
more effective with less contrast between them, with the lowest level
exhibiting more contrast against the two together. As a starting point, it can
be helpful to explore mathematical ratios of proportion (especially for type
size): top level set at 60 points; mid-level at 30 points; and lowest level at
15—a ratio of 2:1. Sometimes, this strategy works as is but, typically, a
designer will need to deviate from the math as font weight and style are also
considered.
SCALE COMPLEXITY

The quality of a contrast scale depends on how many levels might be present in a project’s
hierarchy, which means that it’s somewhat tied to the nature of a given project. Posters, for
example, o en embody three levels of hierarchic interaction: one seen from a distance, a
second negotiated at a middle range, and a third encountered up close. The contrast scale in
most posters, therefore, also tends to be somewhat extreme.
A book, on the other hand, usually presents a greater number and variety of hier-archic
levels. Unlike a poster, in which a size scale is dominant, a book is small; size differences
among elements are sure to play a role, but scales of case, weight, spacing, value, and style
will do the serious work of identifying each scale level. Further, because reading a book is a
more intimate experience, its contrast scales need not be very extreme to be appreciated—if
they are, they may be very distracting.
The dramatic visual activity in this poster obscures the simplicity of its contrast scale. Like
many posters, there are three levels overall, and the predominant scale in use is that of size:
big, medium, and small, where the medium and smaller levels in the scale are compressed.
This major scale is supported by a style scale that transitions from textural to solid (both
condensed) to regular width.
STUDIO LESBEAUXJOURS / FRANCE
KINDS OF CONTRAST NUMBER OF CONTRAST LEVELS SCALE RATIO
WEIGHT 3 3:2
SIZE 4 8:1:3
VALUE 2 REV
WIDTH 1 NA

The design of this exhibition distinguishes two physical hierarchic levels: the walls, which
present headlines and factoids; and mounted cases that present more complex, detailed
information of varied kinds. Hence, there are two scales working together: Extreme scales
of size and weight on the walls (distinguishing four levels of information), and another
relatively extreme scale of sizes and weights within the cases.
POULIN+MORRIS / UNITED STATES
KINDS OF CONTRAST NUMBER OF CONTRAST LEVELS SCALE RATIO
WEIGHT 4 2:1
SIZE 2 10:4:0.5
VALUE 2 REV
WIDTH 1 NA
Both of these websites present relatively moderate scales of size, weight, and value. While
the site at top uses a single type family, the one just above integrates a slab serif and a sans
serif. Mixing bolder and lighter weights, as well as changes in value, provides adequate
typographic color even though the largest and smallest sizes used differ by 10 points.
DIANO / SLOVENIA ↑↑
IDEAS ON PURPOSE / UNITED STATES ↓
KINDS OF CONTRAST NUMBER OF CONTRAST LEVELS SCALE RATIO
WEIGHT 3 2:1
SIZE 2 3:2
VALUE 2 2:1
WIDTH 2 NA
Because this poster’s information is so dense, the designer decided to break it into discrete
units, resolving busyness by alternating between positive and negative blocks. Each unit
also needed to be treated with extreme contrast; otherwise, the information would have
been overly textural and, therefore, would have disintegrated against the boldness of the
black-and-white upper level.
KIM FOSTER / UNITED STATES
KINDS OF CONTRAST NUMBER OF CONTRAST LEVELS SCALE RATIO
WEIGHT 10 5:4:2;1
SIZE 10 2:1
VALUE 2 2:1
WIDTH 2 5:2:0.5
Graphic Detail and Navigation As we have seen, a type layout’s axis
alignments, together with positions of masses and voids, helps readers
locate, separate, or connect pieces of information… to “navigate” them. It’s
important to keep in mind that the very building blocks of type (dots, lines,
and geometric planes) are fundamentally typographic, too; integrating these
forms can enhance hierarchy and clarify navigational flow. The focal power
of a dot can indicate the beginning or ending point of a text element (for
example, using bullets to call out items in a list), correspond to alignments,
activate spaces, and separate informational chunks, like an exaggerated
form of punctuation. Graphical lines (which are visually similar to lines of
type) are really useful for achieving similar goals. Geometric shapes, too,
can act as inclusions or details among letters or words—as well as support
clusters of text, helping separate them from back-grounds for greater
legibility, grouping them for meaning, or better distinguishing hierarchic
levels. Because geometric forms retain their image-like quality, they can
also create visual links between type and other pictorial elements.
In this first version of a menu, dots perform a variety of functions. The large dot acts as a
focal point, bringing its associated type element to the top of the hierarchy. A system of
smaller dots is used to highlight structural alignments and to denote a specific sublevel in
the hierarchy. Still other dots activate negative spaces in the format.
Lines, which share an inherent visual quality with typography, offer an immediate formal
relationship in addition to whatever functions they serve. In this version of the menu, heavy
lines separate clusters of information that are unrelated, while lighter lines help distinguish
clusters that share a relationship. In addition, the lines also activate space and help add
movement to the composition.
In the third version of the menu, planar geometric forms relate visually to the geometry of
letterforms, but contrast with the texture and linearity of type. As fields, or containers for
informational elements, they can help reinforce hierarchic distinctions among groupings of
content; in this particular case, they also create a visual link between the type and the
imagery while honoring the layout structure.
In this website, dots serve as focal points in a company timeline and as containers for
featured products. At a smaller scale, lightweight vertical lines separate major
navigation links, while a downward-pointing triangular marker denotes the userʼs
location within the site.
IDEAS ON PURPOSE / UNITED STATES
In these three projects, graphical elements direct the eye from point to point. The bold,
colored lines in the brochure (above) lead readers to the paragraph and the fact callouts
below it. The large, red dot in the newspaper spread (nest image) calls attention to the
diagonal structure that leads from large name at upper le to quotation at lower right
(and also links the quote to the figure in the image). In the program shown in the next
following image, the lightweight squares anchor the numbers they enclose to the page
corner; becayse the sides of the square are tensely close to the pageʼs edges, they act as
connective tissue between bold headings at top and middle of the pages, with further
help from the horizontal line dividers.
METAKLINIKA / SERBIA ↑
ASCEND STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
BACHGARDE DESIGN / SWEDEN ↓
Lines (yet again!) feature as navigational details. In the theater schedule at top, color fields
distinguish major informational categories, while thin horizontal lines create connections
between them, from le to right. The timeline shown just below uses lines to connect text
blocks to dates highlighted by bold, reversed, cross forms.
RESEARCH STUDIOS / UNITED KINGDOM ↑
PODPUNKT / POLAND ↓
Color and Type Hierarchy All the qualities of chromatic color have a
pronounced effect on hierarchy because of the way they change the
apparent spatial depth and prominence of the typographic elements to
which colors are applied. Therefore, it’s important to understand how a
hierarchy works in grayscale first: consider chromatic color an added
bonus, making sure the hierarchy is clear by virtue of its structure and
typographic color. However chromatic color works hierarchically, it’s
absolutely imperative that there be considerable contrast between the color
of type and any background on which it sits so that the type remains not
merely visible, but effortlessly readable. Color can also be used for coding,
much as it may be applied in pictorial or abstract forms or textures (see
chapter 2, shown here). Such color coding is exceptionally useful for labels
in charts and graphs, to create links with supporting text, and for those in
complex infographics or diagrams. And last, but not least, it bears repeating
that color can radically alter the feeling or connotation of text—this too, is a
kind of coding or hierarchic relationship that may be defined.
Once a clear hierarchy and dynamic layout have been developed in black and white (above),
a designer can then make more specific choices about how a palette might be applied.

—
An intuitive, and typical, approach is to use color’s various attributes (especially value) to
exaggerate distinctions in hierarchic level that are already appreciable (above). The relative
values of forms and field remain the same as they are in the black-and-white original; warm
colors are applied to those elements that appear to advance, and cool colors to those that
recede; and saturation is similarly concentrated on elements at the top of the hierarchy.
—
Of course, there are other possibilities (above). In this version, the overall light/dark value
relationship of figure and ground is reversed, which allows for a different kind of
relationship to be imposed on the largest type elements—reordering the hierarchy to
privilege text elements that are much smaller. Similarly, temperature and saturation
decisions in this version emphasize different ideas. The hierarchy is no less clear; it’s just
slightly different in focus and order. Unless a client’s brief explicitly directs that the content
must be read in a specific sequence, designers are free to alter a hierarchy, so long as
common sense and the viewers’ needs prevail in the decision making.
The gradual value increase of this poster’s background from top to bottom creates enough
density for the orchestra logotype to reverse white, yet is light enough for darker-value text
to surprint it. The overall neutral gray field emphasizes the color in the composers’ names.
The names themselves appear in a rainbow-like palette, alternating in temperature; within
each name, a cool-to-warm gradation further enhances the dimensionality perceived
through the hue changes, and relates to the tonality of the background.
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES
Two versions of a composition of numbers demonstrate the effect of chromatic color on
hierarchy, showing the layout in the same set of colors, but with the colors distributed
differently among the numbers in each version. In both, hue, intensity, and value contrasts
overcome relative type size or weight as the determining factor for entering the layout and
navigating. In the first version (above), the numbers read out of sequence (5, 3, 4, 2, 1): the 5
shows the greatest value and hue contrast with the field; the 3, although similar in value to
the background, is large and of the same hue as the 5; the 4 is the next most-similar thing to
be seen and rapidly linked to the 3. In the second version of the composition (below), the
numbers read in the correct sequence. This time, the stark hue/value contrast occurs in the
1, and each subsequent number shows a diminishing degree of contrast (whether in
saturation, value, or temperature) relative to the background.
The digital environment is forgiving when it comes to legibility issues in the context of type
and its background color. Not only can one immediately see whether that color relationship
is yielding a legible result (and change it, on the fly, if it isn’t), but the screen permits a far
greater range of color contrasts, such that relatively subtle visual separation between text
and its background will allow for the text to be read.
—
Print out such an instance of onscreen subtlety, however, and the type will probably
disappear into its background. When trying to evaluate whether text, set in a particular
color, is adequately legible against a colored background, it’s always best to refer to some
printed reference, like this one, to the right. It shows a type sample in a set of colors, in
different weights, situated on a range of hues in a value progression from light to dark. It’s
not comprehensive, of course, but it can give you an idea of how certain hues will interact.
Keep in mind that the type sample itself is relatively large (16 points in size), and that
smaller sized text may not visually contrast a background as robustly as seen here.

One of the most important concepts to grasp in relation to color and hierarchy is that of
diminishing contrast between figure and field, foreground to background. Elements that are
most different from the field (in relative value, saturation, or temperature) will visually
separate, advance in space, and dominate the hierarchy. Each degree of less-pronounced
contrast will appear as another “layer” that is optically “further away” or, “closer” to the
background. This stepped perceptual logic applies in either direction: if the field is dark, the
lightest element will appear to be in the foreground; if the field is light, the darkest will; if
the field is cool in temperature, the warmest element will appear to be in the foreground.
The striking exception to the rule occurs with saturation relationships, especially if type and
field are of the same value: a more saturated type element will always advance over a less
saturated one.
Both of these layouts show the principle of diminishing figure/ground contrast in action.
In the screen presentation page, above, the gray text exists in a midground position
between the orange callout at top le and the blue field. In the book spread below, the
lighter value letters do the same, relative to the light field of the paper color.
LOEWY / UNITED KINGDOM ↑
LSD SPACE / SPAIN ↓
It can be challenging to position a text element to straddle two different color fields and
keep it uniformly legible. As is o en the case, value relationships are the first consideration:
the text element must be of a value that is different enough from those of both fields to
visually separate from them such that it appears continuous, rather than segmented.
—
If one field is very dark and the other very light in value, that goal will only be achievable if
the text element is of a middle value, or if the text’s value is reversed, what is sometimes
called “checkerboarding” (A). While this strategy technically works, it also tends to
introduce a jarring disconnect within the word, because the visual presence of the positive
element will change dramatically as it crosses from one field to the other; the text won’t
quite hold up as a totality, and will need to be reread.

—
Generally, the two areas must be of similar value to each other, whether dark (B) or light,
(C); and, together, significantly different in value from that of the type. This logic also
somewhat follows with regard to hue (temperature) and saturation. Value aside, legibility
will improve if both fields are somewhat analogous in hue, whether cool (D) or warm (E),
and the type more or less complementary; and, if both fields are generally either saturated
(F) or desaturated (G), and the type is of opposing saturation.
Interesting foreground/background conditions in these two projects highlight the odd
dimensionality that color brings to type. In the website (above), the cool charcoal gray of
the background is of a value that allows elements in inset photographs (like those at the
bottom of the page area) to be both darker and lighter than its own. Itʼs a detail, but the
copper-colored type that crosses from background over the photograph at lower right,
even though smaller in size than the headline at top, appears to float closer in space. In
the posters, below, the alternate distribution of blue, red, and white calls attention to
how much apparent variation in spatial depth can occur simply by altering color
application to figure or ground.
LUMINOUS DESIGN GROUP / GREECE ↑
PODPUNKT / POLAND ↓
The preeminence of value relationships over those of hue and saturation are laid bare in
these three projects; information is also coded in various ways as a result. In the event
program just below, contrast in value between Arabic and English privileges the former
for local spreakers. In the poster (second following image), the secondary title, “More
than technology” occupies an ambiguous space that supports its forward-looking
message. In the website (last image), more complex use of diminishing contrast
strategies positions the greatest saturation and value contrasts in the names of featured
composers and performance dates.
VCU QATAR / QATAR ↑
BRAND BROTHERS / FRANCE ↓↓
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↓
Both brochures here use saturated color as an emphatic coding device within neutral
environments. By using the vivid green of the photograph to highlight important
product features, the designers of the brochure above tie product quality to the content
or meaning of the image. A medium-value gray offers a calming, contemplative quality
to the brochure below while causing the red accents to link visually, coding the
information they carry as fundamentally related and, in the case of the gradation in the
large, rotated headline, emphasizing the meaningful root words in the phrase.
Compared to the gray in the brochure above (also warm), the gray used here has a red
component that helps unify it with the saturated reds.
PEOPLE DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↑
COBRA / NORWAY ↓
Color acts as information in these book spreads about New York City neighborhoods. In
the overview map, each locationʼs color is made different enough to clearly separate
them; in subsequent detail maps, the specific coloration of a location indicates that this
is the subject currently in focus. Color connects map locations with associated text, as
well as the time of a visit to that location displayed in the chronological list at the right.
MYUNG HA CHANG / UNITED STATES
 THE WORLD OF IMAGERY

Images are no longer just representations or interpreters of

human actions. They have become central to every action
that connects humans to each other…as much reference
points for information and knowledge as visualizations of
human creativity.
RON BURNETT/Design educator and author; from How Images Think, The MIT Press: Cambridge,
MA, 1993

IN THIS CHAPTER:
THE NATURE OF IMAGES
Pictures have enthralled people for 50,000 years. And no wonder: they capture complex
experiences (empirical, conceptual, spiritual) in flat, two-dimensional form. This section
illuminates how that happens, for both pictorial and abstract images, in a discussion of semiotics
—the study of visual signs.

MEDIA AND METHODS

Whatever the subject an image might depict, designers have myriad options for rendering it. From
photography to painting, collage to digital processing, every kind of image-making medium offers
a particular visual language to consider in relation to its subject matter and for a project overall.

CONTENT, CONCEPT, CONTEXT

This section focuses on ways of thinking about the content that an image presents: how a
designer visualizes an idea through the selection of its subject elements and, further, hones its
conceptual value—manipulating its context, composition, cropping, and otherwise visually
adjusting it.

NARRATIVE MASSAGE
Images tell stories (or, present “narratives”) but they rarely do so alone. Juxtaposed with text or
other images, whether simultaneously in a given space or in a sequence, a single image takes on
new meanings—ones a designer may exploit for deeper engagement and metaphorical value.
 THE NATURE OF IMAGES

What Images Are Image making is the most complex and human of
activities, and the most profound communica-tion tool available. An image
is more than a simple depictor of objects or places or people. It is a
symbolic, emotional space that replaces physical experience in a viewer’s
mind. This is true of images that are abstract and those that purportedly
show “real” things. It’s challenging, but critical, to realize that all images
are contrived and embody an agenda (most notably in the context of design,
where images are used to not only inform but to persuade): No image
depicts reality— it shows only a reality someone wants you to see. Images
are a visual counterpoint to text: they offer a visceral connection to
experiences described by writing; they can clarify complex information “at-
a-glance,” and add interpretive overlay. It’s foolish to think that a beautiful
photograph or illustration alone will solve a communication problem. An
image’s power isn’t solely wrapped up in its subject matter; it becomes
relevant when its composition and production technique, as well as its
subject matter, act in concert with other material to create an integrated
message.
THE SPECTRUM OF REPRESENTATION

The presentation of images falls on a spectrum that ranges between two major territories:
they either depict some subject or content that corresponds to observable experience
(pictorial); or they are made up of graphic forms that don’t appear to have a source in
physical reality (nonpictorial). Both major territories contain subterritories, and their
boundaries are fluid and mutable: The aspects of any image are likely to cross from one
territory to another or exhibit characteristics from several, depending on the designer’s
goal. In the right context, a simple yellow circle becomes the Sun. A composition of lines in
dynamic rhythms might communicate a subtler message about movement or energy, not
necessarily referring to some literal object or experience. Even a photograph that
presumably shows something real is an abstraction on some level—it depicts a state of
activity that is no longer happening and flattens it into a two-dimensional form. Portions of
it might not even be real, but instead, contrivances set up by the photographer or by the
designer directing the creation of the photograph. Using the intrinsic messaging of abstract
form described in chapter 1 to influence a photograph’s composition will enhance its
messaging potential. Similarly, suggesting concrete literal experience within an abstract
composition will help ground the message in reality for a viewer, making it more accessible
without sacrificing the abstraction’s simplicity and visceral evocative power. Creating or
selecting appropriate imagery for an intended communicative purpose necessitates
understanding how images work: what their parts are, how we identify those parts and
assign meaning to them and, further, how those parts can be manipulated to assure a
reliable interpretation and a compelling experience.
The images shown here (an illustration, two logos, and a book’s collage) capture the essence
of the representational spectrum, from empirically pictorial (first) to nonpictorial (last).
SEAN RYAN / UNITED STATES ↑
MANUEL ESTRADA / SPAIN ↓↓
TEN-DO-TEN / JAPAN ↓
ANDREAS ORTAG / AUSTRIA ↓
How Images Communicate Perception and cognition (what the brain does
with pictures to understand them) are the focus of semiology: the study of
signs (visual stimuli). A sign consists of two parts: the signifier (its visual
form), and its signified (the concept it calls up). In the simplest terms, a
viewer perceives the syntax of a sign and then attempts to identify it: by
template matching it against memories of past experience; or by protoype
matching, averaging features to arrive at a generalization, rather than a
perfect match. These are examples of top-down processing, meaning that
the viewer has some basis for comparison. But a viewer may have no such
basis, relying instead on bottom-up processing: comparing features against
different experiences to find commonality and infer a possible identity.
Template matches are essentially literal images: useful as basic information,
but not especially interesting. With prototype matches and, more so, images
requiring bottom-up processing, designers more effectively engage viewers:
the viewer’s added effort forces them to draw upon varied associations and
experiences—analysis, reinvention, and metaphor come into play.

Upon encountering the poster above le , viewers will quickly template-match the subjects
“human figure,” and “praying gesture,” but the replacement of the head with that of an
animal, and juxtapositions of incongruous elements, will require the viewer to process from
the bottom up to gain deeper understanding. The simple, clear visual form of the type’s
arrangement in the poster above right, however, creates an easy template match for the
viewer, that of a flag.
ZOVECK ESTUDIO / MEXICO ↑↑
MANUEL ESTRADA / SPAIN ↓

A hybrid of two iconic, easily recognized subjects in the book cover to the far le establishes
causality and/or equivalence, or parity, between their identities—and all the meanings
inherent in them. In the two book covers further right, the specific syntax of each one’s
pattern skews its signification: that of the one in the middle is recognized as Art Déco
ornament, while that of the one furthest to the right is interpreted as a psychedelic
experience.
OLIVER MUNDAY GROUP / UNITED STATES ↑
CORALIE BICKFORD-SMITH / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
ZIPENG ZHU / UNITED STATES ↓↓↓
Pictorial Images One clear option is to represent an idea pictorially by
using photographs, illustrations (drawings or paintings), or a combination of
these. Deciding which really depends on evaluating a project’s content and
its conceptual needs. Pictorial images provide informational clarity, but
evoke emotional, associational, and branded messages as well. A pictorial
image’s form may be expansive—intricate, detailed, and made up of many
kinds of syntax, as is that of a photograph or detailed rendering;
alternatively, it may be reductive—editing the syntax to include less, and
fewer kinds. Expansiveness and reduction somewhat correlate to an image’s
perceived naturalism (dis- cussed on the following pages). A designer must
consider a number of things in choosing how much visual informa- tion an
image ought to include: the evocative, emotional qualities of the project’s
content; what is needed to convey specific kinds of messages; and the
viewing audience’s expectation for certain image experiences over others,
because of social or historical contexts. And then, one must consider how
an image points to, or signifies, its meaning.
Identifying a pictorial form includes assessing its abstract syntax, which underscores the
more complex, specific understanding acquired via further template matching: the
circularity of the flower supports the understanding of its organic nature. Greater
complexity confronts a viewer when two recognizably different signifieds, or concepts,
share a form identity: Both the flower and the car wheel are circular … so now, what
interrelationship exists in their presumedly different meanings?
It doesn’t take much information for a viewer to be able to recognize the subject of a
pictorial image, as shown by the reductive depiction of watermelon slices above. On the
other hand, viewers o en benefit from extremely detailed, expansive depictions, which may
be absolutely naturalistic (like the photograph in the website below) or relatively
naturalistic, as in the illustration that follows the website image.
HUNGRY STUDIO / SLOVAKIA ↑
ISHAN KHOSLA DESIGN / INDIA ↓↓
CYR STUDIO / UNITED STATES ↓
Modes of Signification In semiotic terms, a pictorial image may embody
any of three modes. The first mode, icon, has several meanings that can
cause some confusion. Technically, an icon is an image whose syntax shares
a structural similarity with the object it signifies: it looks like what it is.
Descriptive drawings and photographs are both iconic in their modality.
Images that are representational, but not pictures of the signified itself, are
called indexical signs, and refer to their subjects indirectly through
association: An image of an egg or nest indexes a bird. A pictorial image
whose form is visually unrelated to its signified is a symbol; it derives its
power from an arbitrary agreement that this particular image will mean that
particular idea among members of a specific group: the image of a white
dove is a symbol of peace in Western culture. Interestingly (but, maybe not
surprisingly), a nonpictorial (abstract) image may just as easily be a symbol
as a pictorial one. The context in which an image appears will immediately
qualify or alter its mode—an iconic image may suddenly index another
idea; an index may become symbolic.

An icon is a visual sign that shares a structural similarity with the object it signifies. Usually,
icons are devoid of detail and are literal representations of their signified object.
An indexical sign, or index, is a visual sign that points to its signified object indirectly, or
“indexes” it—for example, a nest indexes a bird.

A symbol is a pictorial or nonpictorial image whose form is unrelated to its signified object
or idea; it derives its power from the arbitrary agreement of the culture that uses the
symbol. Both of these symbols signify the same concept.
The context in which a symbol appears (culturally or subculturally) will alter its symbolic
meaning: consider the difference in meaning between the same symbol element in these
various environments.

A supersign combines representational modes, as do these four logos: The top two integrate
icons (a snake and bundled wires, respectively) with letters, which are symbols; the lower
two both integrate icons with symbols (the caution stripes and the star form, respectively).
LSD SPACE / SPAIN ↑↑↑↑
RAIDY PRINTING GROUP / LEBANON ↓↓↓
THOMAS CSANO / CANADA ↓↓
DAVID AIREY / NORTHERN IRELAND ↓
The reductive, graphical simplicity of the images in the book cover (above) and the poster
(below) is deceptive. Both use icon supersigns to deliver extremely deep and complex
narratives.
LESLEY MOORE / NETHERLANDS ↑
JANET HANSEN / UNITED STATES ↓↓
Stylization Pictorial images that render their subjects as they accurately
appear in the real world, as observed, are described as naturalistic. Of
course, that’s not the only way to depict a physical object or scene: one
might choose to stylize it—which means to purposely alter or edit the visual
language used to represent its subject (to mediate it) away from the way it
looks in real life toward one that is more abstract. Stylization emphasizes
awareness of the image as a contrivance, as intellectually calculated, even
though its imposed form language may evoke a more emotional
interpretation. Effective stylization depends on identifying universally
recognizable elements in a given subject and simplifying, exaggerating, and
otherwise altering them to invent a specific visual language that lives as its
own idea, rather than simply reproducing its likeness. A stylized image may
intend to communicate objectively and neutrally by distilling its subject’s
features to their fundamental “truth”; at the other extreme, a designer may
interfere with this semiotic purity, skewing the communication toward
being interpreted one way or another.
One of the decisions a designer must make is the degree to which evidence of the means of
the image’s creation will be explicit or downplayed. A designer may decide in favor of a
“clean” presentation: An imposed imperceptibility of the image’s creation that suggests
“realism” or objectivity.
—
Works in which the image-making process is visiblestart down the road of stylization. This
may be purposely exaggerated, and the designer may further impose a contrived
formlanguage; both carry subjective or emotive qualities. When form language itself
becomes a purposefulcomponent of an image, it takes on a dual role—acting as a vehicle for
viewers to recongize the subject it represents, and as an independent experience that adds
some other knowledge about the subject.
—
The form language used to stylize may directly refer to observed elements in the subject:
short, tu ed marks, for example, may texturally represent leaves or trees themselves,
rather than be used as secondary components to construct a naturalistic illusion of leaves or
trees—effectively referring to them in shorthand. The degree of stylization within an image
alters a viewer’s intellectual focus. Toward the realistic end of the spectrum, the subject’s
literal meaning takes on more importance; as it becomes more stylized, the gesture, the
quality of the marks, and associations or symbolic messaging that these impart become
more important.
Images that are stylized encourage viewers to explore interpretation of their subject matters
simply because it’s immediately clear that such images are not intended to convey objective
information—and, people being the curious creatures they are, will want to know why. The
syntax and medium, as well as specific contrivances, like distortion, will help direct
viewers’ intepretation, whether it’s one of humanistic expression, contemplation of
discipline, or humorous characterization of a profession—to which these images
respectively allude.
VCU QATAR / QATAR ↑↑
MUNDA GRAPHICS / AUSTRALIA ↓
ANDREW GORKOVENKO / RUSSIA ↓
When many people hear the word “stylization,” they first think of simplified, reductive,
hard-edged graphics like those in the logo, above, and the poster, above right (both by the
same designers, for different clients). But stylization may also involve other kinds of media
and more organic approaches, as shown by the translation of the water bottle below. It’s no
more or less abstract than the images that precede it; it’s simply made using a different
medium. The medium itself, in this case adds knowledge about the subject as part of the
stylization.
LSD SPACE / SPAIN ↑↓
MIN SHAO / UNITED STATES ↓↓
Stylization is a powerful tool for customizing imagery to help communicate a client’s visual
identity as part of a brand program. As much as such stylization might add further
meaning, its most pronounced narrative becomes one of identification with the company,
product, or service in question.
ORDER / UNITED STATES ↑↑
TOORMIX / SPAIN ↓
It’s easy to identify stylization in a drawn or painted image; to a certain degree, the fact of
the medium, if visible in the image’s execution, already alerts a viewer to its stylized
nature. Stylization in photographic images is more subtle, usually embodied in consciously
unnatural lighting or coloration, more extreme viewing angle or cropping, and clearly
artificial propping or presence of materials that are out of context.
ANDREW GORKOVENKO / RUSSIA ↑↑
LA BOCA / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
Nonpictorial Images All forms carry meaning, no matter how apparently
simple or elemental they appear. We rely on the analysis of visual stimuli,
relative to prior experience, to identify meaning accordingly. The shape,
size, linearity, or mass of a perceived form tells us what it might be: our
knowledge of forms allows us to project that understanding onto a form in a
new context. For example, we know from experience that the Sun, Moon,
cells, water droplets, and other such things are round: confronted with a
circular plane, we identify it as “natural.” Conversely, a square means the
opposite (artificial, intellectual, architectural); its equivalent angles and
parallel sides occur only in the works of humanity. Further, forms become
significantly more meaningful when they can be compared. If they exhibit
parity (are similar), they must be equivalent in meaning; if not, they must
be different, and the quality of this difference will contribute additional
meaning. All of this information is acquired just from a form itself, never
mind its apparent behavior.
Recent discoveries by paleo-anthropologists provide evidence that nonpictorial drawing
appeared about 90,000 years ago, one of the first indicators of symbolic thought. Abstract
imagery resonates with us very deeply; and it may bypass the intellectual barriers created
by temporal (circumstantial) and personal experience, and cultural upbringing, to affect us
on a nearly biological level.By way of illustration, above is a characteristic sample of
nonpictorial visual responses by students to two prompts, “rage,” shown to the le , and
“comfort,” to the right—from among hundreds gathered over 15 years. “Rage” elicits a
nearly identical form language of heavy, jagged, multidirectional and disordered marks:
evidence of the emotion's universality. “Comfort,” being dependent on individual
experience, results in gestures of greater variety (and more so than shown here) that,
nonetheless, are variations on several themes: restful horizontality, the certainty of
repetition, so ness and curvilinearity,and the completeness of singular forms, sometimes
made up of similar ones in aggregate. The simple schematic diagram portrays the relative
level of resonant depth each sample reaches.

Images that merge the pictorial and nonpictorial have an abstract life of their own while
still serving a depictive function. In the drawing above, media and gesture represent tree
branches in wind and rain without literally describing them. In the web page below,
nonpictorial forms similarly capture the essence of molecular transformation.
EVA SURANY / UNITED STATES ↑↑
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↓
Signification Through Visual Grammar Forms acquire new meanings
when they participate in spatial relationships: because of their rotation,
singularity or repetition, alignment, clustering, or separation from each
other. Each state tells the viewer something new about the forms and their
respective meanings. Forms that appear to be moving, or energetic, mean
something very different from those that are arranged statically. The degree
of difference between elements can be subtle or dramatic, and the designer
can imply different degrees of meaning by isolating one group or part more
subtly and exaggerating differences between others. Tiny adjustments in
form are easily perceived, so differences between each group can be
precisely controlled. There are numerous strategies for creating such
interplay. Of course, which strategy to employ will depend on the messages
a designer determines are most appropriate andrelevant for his or her
particular project. And, let’s not forget that the messages conveyed by the
logic of organization apply equally to pictorial forms and image elements.
By differentiating elements (or groups thereof) from others within an overall grouping, a
designer instigates comparisons that elicit several questions: “What is the nature of each
grouping? How are they different? What does this difference signify?” Shown here are a
number of examples that illustrate simple comparative formal interactions.

Distance / Isolation Progressive separation / Reordering / Disharmony or

Breaking out or leaving disorder

Size change / Increased Progressive size change / Orientation change /

importance; implied Increased importance; Movement or energy
relationship growth

Value change / Distinction, Differentiated shape / Contour complexity /

confrontation Specificity, individual identity Aggression or complication
Movement inward, overlap / Interval change / Enclosure
or protection Interval and grouping / Unity
Interference, assembly
and opposition

This brochure uses very simple spatial and color interaction among dots and lines to
communicate simple, but abstract, concepts expressed in large-size quotations. The first
spread (above) is concerned with persuasion, and so the dots overlap to share a common
spatial area. In the second spread (below), the issue is planning; the green dot is “captured”
by the horizontal line and appears to be pulled from right (the future) to le (the present).
AND PARTNERS / UNITED STATES
Complex Abstract Messaging The seemingly generic and intangible
qualities of abstraction belie its profound capacity to convey messages on a
universal perceptual level that viewers very rarely are able to acknowledge.
Ever more specific interpretations deriving from cultural context, individual
experience, and emotional life compound the common and universal; every
level of interpretive response mutually colors the others. As we have seen,
the more primal an intended message, the more common its form language
and its reliability in communicating to a diverse audience—and vice versa.
While interpretations of abstract imagery are often emotional (a quality
designers may use to subliminally manipulate more concrete imagery)
abstract form languages may be used to communicate any number of
concrete subjects, not only intangible ones. Through a combination of form
language, compositional structure, and positive/negative interaction,
abstract imagery may represent a physical activity, natural force, or
scientific discipline; it may connote a historical time or place, or allude to
processes both intellectual and experiential.

Winter Evolution Monumental

Unity Ephemeral Sensuous

Technology Effervescence Traffic

Conflict Mapping Dissolution

Elegantly swirling curves—whose fluid movement, precision weight contrasts, and surface
sheen all communicate notions of luxury—are applied to the walls of a home furnishings
shop to enhance the appeal of the products on display.
A10 DESIGN / BRAZIL
Introducing abstract imagery into compositions that also include pictorial
subjects invites speculation about the juxtaposition. Used as fields or
backgrounds, such imagery creates a new context in which to frame
understanding of a naturalistic subject; used within, or on top of, pictorial
images—even photographic ones, whose typically evidentiary literalness is
difficult to dismiss outright—can have dramatic consequences on that
image’s presumed meaning. And given that one important task for a
designer often is to clearly, and memorably, differentiate a visual experience
from other, competing ones—supercritical in branding—abstraction, being
profoundly unique, offers a completely custom experience for a client’s
audience. Further, it’s possible for designers who can’t draw or illustrate (or
who don’t have the time or budget to commission custom imagery) to
invent compelling, relevant graphical experiences using drawing and image
manipulation software without having to master Renaissance-quality
drawing or other image- making techniques—and, being thus empowered,
create new and aesthetically fulfilling project solutions.

Repeated patterns of lines create vibration and the illusion of three-dimensional planes that
may be interpreted as printed surfaces, video texture, and ideas related to transmission
associated with communication design.
RESEARCH STUDIOS / UNITED KINGDOM

Vigorous, gestural painted marks suggest a physical landscape while evoking a sense of the
rising wind that accompanies the transition from summer to autumn. These natural forces
contrast the clean geometry of technology, represented both abstractly (dots and
diagrammatic elements) and pictorially.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
Nonpictorial imagery brings added value to any any client’s project by being proprietary
and specific to their communications. Dynamic linear and tonal compositions such as that
shown in this postcard are the basis for an entire branding program. And, even though the
imagery conveys an appropriately scientific quality, it doesn’t limit itself by suggesting any
one science in particular—which means all the disciplines to be found in the site are
generally represented.
CLEMENS THÉOBERT SCHEDLER / AUSTRIA
 MEDIA AND METHODS

The Notion of Mediation Most generally, to mediate means to intercede

(to get involved). Designing is itself an act of mediation: raw information is
visually altered for a purpose. Here, the term describes a designer’s
perceived involvement in presenting images’ subjects: Do they appear
simply chosen and unadulterated (less mediated)? Or is there extensive
involvement (more mediated)? The root word, media, suggests that how an
image is made (photog- raphy, versus illustration, for instance) influences
viewers’ awareness of its contrivance—making that fact more, or less,
conspicuously visible. Mediation implicates images’ apparent naturalism
(less mediated) or stylization (more mediated); and, how obvious is the
medium itself. A seam- lessly realistic painting, lacking noticeable
brushstrokes (less mediated) hides how it was made, but one with readily
visible brushwork (more mediated) does the opposite. The degree of
mediation must be considered for its potential effect on a project’s
perceived objectivity. And the medium chosen to make an image alters
perception of a subject’s meaning—which is why that choice is super
important.
All these images depict the same subject—a figure—but their differing syntax intrinsically
mediates the subject to varying degrees. The “pure” photograph is the least mediated of the
three. The two drawn images are inherently more mediated than the photographic image
but, between the two, the naturalistic drawing is less mediated than the other.

The question of mediation and credibility comes to the fore in comparing these two
illustrations. Both are fabrications—but which one seems more real? If you decided that the
corncob person does, you’re probably not alone: its empirical, photographic qualities make
it more believable as “real” than the invented space and painterly texture of the drawn
image on the right.
CHRISTOPHER SHORT / UNITED STATES ↑
CYR STUDIO / UNITED STATES ↓
The decision to illustrate the vegetables on this label, rather than to photograph them,
ensures their absolute perfection and freshness.
WALLACE CHURCH / UNITED STATES
The Medium is a Message A line is a line…or not. Every mechanical
method of creating an image has its own prop- erties (makes characteristic
marks) that add a specific kind of visual language to an image. Every
medium, therefore, powerfully affects an image’s communicative value, not
just its formal qualities relative to other elements around it. Above and
beyond overall territory (pictorial or abstract) and semiotic mode (if a
pictorial image), the medium a designer chooses for a project’s imagery
carries meaning. A given medium conveys such meaning first through its
perceived feel (softness, hardness, fluidity, or stiffness); and, sometimes,
through its conceptual or allusory aspects (for example, using a drawing
tool native to a certain region or historical period). Whether a designer is
working with pictorial or abstract means to communicate a particular idea,
he or she must keep in mind that any image visual- izing it may be created
with any medium. The question is what medium best corroborates the idea?
The only way to find out is to test—by reproducing an image using
different media and alternating them in a layout for comparison.

From fragility to the material translucency of glass, to distortion, to the sense of the glass’s
function, to double vision, and beyond to agitated intoxication—a treasure trove of stories
waits to unfold from the medium alone.
ERICA PETERSON / UNITED STATES
The choice of image used for one of several wall panels in a French cultural center—Guignol,
a puppet character from a child’s story—is symbolic of French culture. Its historical stature
is altered through mediation: representing the image in a digital pixel pattern that makes it
contemporary.
APELOIG DESIGN / FRANCE
The packaging system above invokes the raw playfulness of painting to convey a childlike
energy for a manufacturer of toddler’s goods. Painting, in the sense of Medieval
illumination, forms a conceptual backdrop for an illustration studio’s website (below);
ancient and modern tools come together in the site’s navigation.
CLASSMATE STUDIO / HUNGARY ↑
DISTURBANCE / SOUTH AFRICA ↓
Photography Photographic images have become preeminent in design.
They’re lush, luminous, and vital; and their directness allows viewers to
rapidly process them. Access speed in imagery is important; the faster a
viewer can under stand an image’s significance, the more likely they are to
invest continued attention. Plus, a photograph’s contrivance isn’t so readily
appreciated and, although many viewers are attuned to photography’s
deceptive potential, they’re still more likely to accept a photograph as truth
over an illustration. On a purely practical level, stock (or, ready
made)photographs a designer can license for use are abundantly available.
They’re useful in a pinch, but often are generic or cliché. Much worse is
that one runs the risk of an image he or she has used for a project being
licensed by some other designer to use in another context entirely—which
dilutes the intellectual impact on viewers who have seen it before. Further,
viewers who encounter the same image in different contexts will be
confused (“Whose ad is this?”), and likely to question the authenticity of
the image’s message. Hire a photographer! Better yet: learn to shoot your
own images.
These images highlight the compelling, “documentary” quality of photographs. In the
website and packaging above, clean, neutral daylight and meticulous styling capture
forthrightness and wholesomeness. Such seemingly neutral hotographic images also may be
used as independent elements, as on the book cover below.
IDEAS ON PURPOSE / UNITED STATES ↑↑
WALLACE CHURCH / UNITED STATES ↓
MANUEL ESTRADA / SPAIN ↓
A clever viewpoint and stark, high-contrast lighting used for the poster, above, render a
typically recognizable subject in an almost scientific way.
KING 20G / UNITED KINGDOM
Photography becomes especially intriguing when used nonrealistically, as seen in these
constructed editorial and brand illustrations. As surreal and contrived as they are,
somehow these images will be perceived as grounded in the real world.
SUPERBÜRO / SWITZERLAND ↑
FOR THE PEOPLE / TASMANIA ↓
UMBRELLA DESIGN / INDIA ↓
Many designers forget that the light-based image-capture tech-nology of xerography,
radiography, and flatbed scanners are all photographic processes—and they offer extremely
interesting possibilities, as seen in the two websites and brochure spread below.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↑
MUCHO / SPAIN ↓↓
GRETEL / UNITED STATES ↓↓↓
Drawing and Painting Hand-generated images are deeply appealing: they
offer a personally creative quality lacking in the seamless realism of
photographs. Designers commonly use the term illustration to mean
“images that are drawn and painted” although it’s a pretty broad term and
can refer to photography, collage, and other approaches. A designer who
chooses to draw or paint is not only free from the limitations of empirical
rendering, but can add conceptual qualities for interpretation. Doing so can
mean sacrificing real-world credibility; but the power of illustration is in its
poetic, symbolic and hand-made qualities. An illustration’s success lies in
the appropriateness of its style for its subject. Most is contracted from
specialists who cultivate a specific style, but this shouldn’t preclude
designers from taking on the role of image-maker themselves; their images
may be more appropriate and integrate better than would be likely if
working through an outside source. Many neglect this possibility due to a
sense of intimidation: “I can’t even draw a stick figure.” Illustration can be
many things, regardless of native talent, experience, or academic naiveté in
making it.
Whatever the subject or narrative to be conveyed, the range of media from which to choose
(never mind specific techniques that are possible in each) is enoromous. Scratchy, almost
distraught cross-hatching produced with pen and ink enhances the mysterious and slightly
sinister quality of the image above, le . In contrast, fluid gestural marks (digital and
conventional) and washes of color made with wet media lend powerful vitality to a
humanistic message (above, right). In both cases, the drawing extends to custom type forms
integrated into the image field. In the packaging below, a more studied, analytical approach
finds its voice in another dry media, scratchboard, expressing a sense of cra with its
carefully articulated line work.
AMES BROS. / UNITED STATES ↑
PETTIS DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓
FUMAN / NEW ZEALAND ↓
Abstract marking in these three projects works to suggest more concrete ideas (sometimes,
explicitly). The bold, horizontal swaths of color across the system of festival programs,
above, refer to their art subject but also evoke the reflection of light and land on water;
similarly, the linear dribbles and dot-like splots in the program just below suggest leaves
and stems, as well as musical notes. The face on the olive oil bottle (second image below) is
clearly pictorial, but constructed from a cluster of abstract marks that suggest, possibly, the
pits of olives or, perhaps, grains of rice one might cook with the oil.
FOR THE PEOPLE / TASMANIA ↑
LUMINOUS DESIGN GROUP / GREECE ↓↓
VOICE / AUSTRALIA ↓
The doodle-like quality of the line work in these juice package illustrations extends into the
drawing of all the text, delivering a spontaneous, refreshing, and direct quality while
clearly describing the contents.
BILLIE JEAN / UNITED KINGDOM
Reductive Approaches Conventional illustration tends to be naturalistic,
incorporating the detail that implies. But it may also be highly edited, or
reductive, even if it remains naturalistic—many illustrations remove
extraneous details to emphasize conceptually meaningful ones. One
particular reductive approach, graphic translation, evolved from poster
work in Switzerland and Germany in the early twentieth century. It depicts
subjects literally, like an icon, but also in a self-consciously abstract way
that attempts to convey the fundamental truth of a subject, rather than one
particular instance of it: a translation of a cat, for instance, depicts “cat-
ness” in its totality, rather than a specific breed of cat. Unlike an icon,
which is mostly about shape, textural and volumetric qualities are important
considerations: the cat translation must indicate that cats are softly furred,
slinky and athletic, and so on. The medium used can be important if its
characteristic marks help describe some aspect of the subject. A scratchy
charcoal texture, for example, might appropriately describe the fragility or
dryness of an autumn leaf, but the texture does not exist for its own sake.

These leaf translations all share the quality of recognition, but the language of each one is
different, affording knowledge of specific aspects of the idea “leaf” from alternately
physical and metaphorical viewpoints.
This motion sequence about the history of iconic, twentieth-century skyscrapers delivers its
information with translations and graphic patterning that echoes the design aesthetics of
the time period.
LLOYD KIM / UNITED STATES
Clever reversals of positive and negative, together with the exagger- ated undulation of the
octopus’s tentacles, imparts the sinuous action of its movement; in a completely opposite
gesture, the hyperstatic, machined quality of the image elements below play off the
industrial narrative of the wine’s branding.
GREG FALCONI / UNITED STATES ↑
MIRELDY / CROATIA ↓
Graphically simplified scenes on each of these brochure covers illustrate ideas about
financial transformation, growth, manage- ment, and diversification.
HYATT ASSOCS. / UNITED KINGDOM
Hand drawing and vector drawing are combined with xerographic effects to produce a
high-tech image for this CD cover, nonetheless retaining a human touch.
GLASHAUS DESIGN / GERMANY
Although technically a method for reproducing a single image multiple times, printmaking
is an image- making medium in its own right; it exaggerates the tactility of drawing and
painting because of the effects of its various techniques. These include ancient methods, like
the rough woodcut print in the cover above, as well as industrial ones, like silkscreen, used
for the brochure below. Both methods are surprisingly easy to learn, and can be applied in
different ways for both delicate, as well as more aggressive, or edgy, effects.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↑
MARTA GAWIN / POLAND ↓
Bold, naturalistic—yet simplified—translations of tools give an authentic brand voice to the
website of a longtime, family-owned construction business.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
Collage Assembling found materials in a composition is a development
derived from Cubism in the 1910s and ’20s. Collage was initially used to
add things like labels, flat pieces of wood, fabric, and so on into paintings,
but it quickly evolved into an independent medium. Given that a collage’s
pictorial space is abstract because of its fragmented con- struction,
designers must resolve compositional issues related to the material’s shape
accordingly; but they must also address each item’s internal visual qualities:
surface texture, graphical inclusions, color, and recognizability of the
source material (such as printed words or croppings of image). When the
source components of a collage are recognizable, the meaningful,
conceptual relationships that their content creates is extremely important.
Collage is a highly intuitive illustrative approach to image making that
considers the communicative value not only of disparate subjects appearing
in one space, but also of their independent origins—and any meaningful,
narrative “baggage” they might drag into the mix as a result.

Examples of collage show the varied possibilities in combining material: cut and torn paper;
found text and images; three-dimensional material. Digital collage allows for photographic
effects—transparency, blending, blurring, intricate silhouetting, and masking not possible
with conventional, cut-and-paste techniques.

In this study, the message changes as the content of the collage’s components is changed. As
the content becomes more recognizable, the collage transmits a more literal and, therefore,
more specific message. Because the source components of a collage might be recognizable,
the conceptual relationship between abstract and representational elements is extremely
important.

Any kind of cut/paste approach is collage—whether it’s made using cut and torn paper (le )
or digital means (right).
STEFF GEISSBUHLER / UNITED STATES ↑
GRETEL / UNITED STATES ↓
Collage is an excellent method for building extravagant visual environments and more
conceptual, surreal narratives, like those seen here—both composed digitally, but
incorporating original hand-drawn elements with found photographic and painted ones. In
the image at top, created for a travelogue, a modern, Turkish tourist city seems to compose
itself from the backdrop of an ancient wall; the brand image for a cake shop alludes to a
certain fantastical fairy tale.
2FRESH / TURKEY ↑
METAKLINIKA / SERBIA ↓
Juxtapositions of related (and sometimes unrelated) images allow viewers to construct
narrative without being told what to think. Fragmented, overlapping photographs and text
elements in the book cover above create a dimensional space that speaks of a Holocaust
survivor’s shattered childhood; in the cover below, disparate elements build a somewhat
satirical narrative related to colonialism.
LABORATORIO SECRETO / BRAZIL ↑
MANUEL ESTRADA / SPAIN ↓↓
Type As Image Giving type elements pictorial qualities beyond those of
their basic form turns them into images of what they mean, and the
narrative potential is huge. Words that are also pictures fuse several kinds of
understanding: they are supersigns. Viewers appreciate each meaningful
aspect (visual/verbal/emotional/symbolic) immediately and simultaneously;
the greater ease of recalling images makes such word pictures highly
effective for remembering their verbal content. Like many aspects of strong
type design, transforming type into image means identifying a clear
similarity between the type’s abstract visual qualities and those that suggest
its semantic meaning in the simplest way possible. It’s easy to obscure a
visual message or dilute it. Viewers will easily perceive and remember one
strong message over several weaker ones—complexity is desirable, whereas
complication is not. Type can be transformed into an image by using a
variety of approaches. Each provides a different avenue of exploration, and
several might be appropriate both to the desired communication and to the
formal aspects of the type itself.
Form alteration changes the structural characteristics of type elements, manipulating them
to communicate nonliteral ideas.
TIEN-MIN LIAO / UNITED STATES ↑
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↓
LUMINOUS DESIGN GROUP / GREECE ↓↓
Deconstruction changes the visual relationships between the parts of text, calling out the
relation of its structure to its meaning or spoken rhythm.
LEONARDO SONNOLI / ITALY ↑
YOOJUNG KANG / UNITED STATES ↓
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↓↓
Form substitution is a strategy in which a type form is replaced by an icon or symbol whose
visual structure still reads as that of the type it has replaced. The latter concern is
somewhat critical; if the form substituting a particular letter is shaped like another letter,
readability becomes a problem very quickly. A designer can apply this approach to a single
letter in a word, or to every letter, as in the newsletter masthead at bottom.
DEBRA OHAYON / UNITED STATES ↑↑
RAIDY PRINTING GROUP / LEBANON ↓
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES ↓
Pictorialization occurs as the result of typography becoming a representation of a real-
world object or taking on the qualities of something from actual experience. Some of the
logos above are accompanied by wordmarks that reveal what they are, exccept for the first
three (ready?): one for a winery; the Barcelona Metro; and the International Center of
Photography. Similar delight occurs in contemplating the two posters below.

Logos above, le to right

JELENA DROBAC / SERBIA
MANUEL ESTRADA / SPAIN
EUIKYOUNG LEE / UNITED STATES
SOOIM HEO / UNITED STATES
DEBORAH GRUBER / UNITED STATES
MOLTOBUREAU / GERMANY

PARALLAX / AUSTRALIA ↓↓
LSD SPACE / SPAIN ↓
Pictorial inclusion refers to bringing illustrative elements into the type forms so that they
interact with its strokes or counterspaces. This approach merges the two and, in many
instances, is a useful way to add image material in a limited space.
LSD SPACE / SPAIN ↑
MIXER / SWITZERLAND ↓
C+G PARTNERS / UNITED STATES ↓↓
Ornamentation transforms typography with graphical details, such as borders, dots, lines,
dingbats, and other embellishments—as it does here in a logo for a transit system (top) and
a titling treatment for a magazine’s essay section (bottom).
BRUKETA & ZINIC / CROATIA ↑
FINEST MAGMA / GERMANY ↓↓
Data Processing Just in the past few years, advances in machine learning
and AI have introduced powerful new ways of interating with imagery in a
digital environment. Programming and processing code that executes
custom, algorithm-based alterations to input data allow designers to invent
new treatments that current industry-standard image software doesn’t; and it
allows them to manipulate audio and video input, too—very often in real
time. The results are usually exceptionally complex textural rendering,
distortion, and layering that would be a real nightmare to try to accomplish
any other way. Like all other tools and media, these more recently
developed machine languages leave their characteristic marks and effects
on the material they process; it’s important to think about the meaning of
those effects from a visual standpoint (how they affect the perception of an
image’s subject matter)—but, just as important, how they affect a viewer’s
perception of the nature of the image itself. The choice of medium means
something (“Why paint? Why algorithm?), just as its signature formal
qualities may do.
Despite its mathematical nature, the results of much algorithmic image generation are
extremely organic in quality—mostly because of its complexity and irregularity, and its
quality of continual reinvention. This is the case with the introductory animation screen for
a music festival website, above: the graphical forms build, reorder, and recombine—a
visualization not only of sound but of creativity. In the packaging system below, every box
is custom, covered with a unique iteration of organic arc forms—the ultimate in brand
personalization.
AKU / ESTONIA ↑
STUDIO MAKGILL / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
A simple, literal idea is transformed into a dynamic, engaging set of animations and
illustrations used for online, print, and video touchpoints for a branded product launch.
Clouds of colored numerals ebb and flow, reforming into text and images in a three-
dimensional environment.
SELF-TITLED / AUSTRALIA
Endless modification of a visual language through digital means establishes new brands as
responsive and allows them to actively refresh over time—qualities that are especially
relevant for media and tech companies like those whose business cards are shown here.
GOÑI STUDIO / SPAIN ↑
MUCHO / SPAIN ↓
 CONTENT, CONCEPT, CONTEXT

Image Realness It’s said that a picture is worth a thousand words; which
words those are is the big question. It’s critical to realize that we accept
images as equivalent to lived reality; a child shown an image of a cup for
the first time will try to grab it, whatever that image’s medium. An image’s
subject matter offers only a first step toward conveying its meaning. The
rest of that understanding depends on other factors: which elements a
designer includes or edits out; how those are arranged; which are
emphasized; whether any parts have been altered; the media involved; and
relationships to supporting subjects or symbolic details. Clothing
catalogues, for example, often use setting, props, cropping, viewpoint, and
lighting to convey concepts about lifestyle and mood; these aspects are
what deliver the most meaningful ideas. These conditions are no less true
for photographic images than for those purely invented, like illustrations.
With pho- tography, especially, many designers overlook this required level
of calculation, fooled by the ready-made completeness they see within a
camera’s frame…and accept it as is, the same way viewers will when
encountering it.
Unexpected discrepancies in signifieds are opportunities rich with metaphor, relying on the
viewer to make connections. This illustration accompanied an article on charity and wealth
disparity.
CATHERINE CASALINO / UNITED STATES
Viewers will suspend their disbelief when confronting a highly mediated image of empirical
experience.
TIEN-MIN LIAO / UNITED STATES ↑
LUMINOUS DESIGN GROUP / GREECE ↓
Representation and Presentation Any subject matter, meaning, or idea
can theoretically be represented by any kind of image; a designer’s first
consideration is whether a pictorial or nonpictorial image will most clearly
and compellingly represent it. Up next, is what specific syntax and medium
will best evolve viewers’ understanding of the messages embodied by the
subject. A nonpictorial image, whose visual language (and, therefore, its
communication) is typically medium-dependent, requires investigation into
that aspect—and further, how a given medium affects the image’s syntax in
the context of other formal qualities in the project. If a subject is best
represented by a pictorial image, the designer must then explore how that
image is presented, and the options are extensive: Naturalistic or stylized?
Cropped and inset or full bleed? And whichever of these, will the space
within the image appear dimensional and empirical, with its elements at
relative scale, or will that space itself appear somewhat abstract—visually
flattened, fractured, or presenting elements in “unrealistic” spatial
relationships?

All of these signs, of varied syntax, can signify the same idea in the right context: New York
City. Now isolate any one of them and list for yourself all of its other possible meanings.
The various designers of these three projects use different presentation strategies to focus
attention on their images’ subject matters, once chosen, and establish context with
surrounding material: creating a self-contained environment around important symbolic
elements (above); silhouetting images to link directly to a logo’s letters (below); and
crossing inset images with dynamic, arcing lines (second image below) to join the images
with the typographic spaces.
MUBIEN / SPAIN ↑
INFINITO / PERU ↓↓
CLASSMATE STUDIO / HUNGARY ↓
Strategies for Composition Designers sometimes forget that they’re not
bound by the spatial reality imposed by the scene they are rendering. All by
itself, selective cropping can radically focus attention on specific elements,
as well as alter the energy or mood a viewer perceives. Adjusting or even
reinventing figure/ground relationships (see chapter 1, shown here)—even
in naturalistic depictions—can dramatically enhance an image’s power to
communicate beyond the literal, as well as help engage the viewer and
direct the eye. Simply placing subjects in a photograph’s or illustration’s
central area (without regard to their outer contours, tension, and contrast of
negative space, and so on) prevents an image from achieving maximum
dynamism. Just as various kinds of formal contrast are critical for decisive
layout of graphic elements and typography in an overall page environment,
so too is their refinement within an image’s space—whether that image
happens to be photographic or made by some other means. And, of course,
the designer must consider how to create and corroborate compositional
relationships between the image’s interior and its surrounding context.
Cropping images or objects as though they’re floating freely within the space of a format (A)
—whether they’re purely graphical shapes, or silhouetted image forms—emphasizes the
shapes and compositional qualities of those elements within the space.
Image elements contained within an inset shape (B) become dominated by it, occupying a
separate space from that of the surrounding container. Adjacent image elements, if they
exist can relate to the composition within that inset frame, as well as to the surrounding
field.
The positioning of the three highly reductive graphical figures of soldiers in the lower part
of this LP sleeve’s format causes them to appear to “slide” along the horizon; the evenness of
their spacing and the cropping of the two outer figures—each to a different degree—
enhances the sense of regular, marching movement. Breaking this regimented movement by
turning the middle soldier’s head downward draws attention to this figure, who now
personifies the contemplative question of the LP’s title.
BIG ACTIVE / UNITED KINGDOM
This pictorial collage is deconstructed to show the various compositional strategies—beyond
the selection of subject and medium—that the designer has considered in creating a well-
resolved image. Each aspect of the composition reinforces the others.
FLORENCE TÉTIER / FRANCE
Positive/negative Line/mass contrasts Optical weight Value distribution
shapes distribution

Perspective and Directional Color relationships Contrasts in surface

spatial depth movement activity
CROPPING STRATEGIES

As with any other imagery, photographic content must be decisively composed. The
photographer has two opportunities to control the image’s composition, however: first,
within the frame of the camera’s viewfinder; and second, during the printing process in the
darkroom (or in cropping a digital photograph using so ware).
Photographic subjects are usually one of three kinds of thing: either a scene, like a
landscape; a figure (o en a portrait, specifically); or an arrangement of objects on a surface,
what is usually called a “still life.”
Each of these three general conditions is presented here, showing a variety of cropping
possibilties for each, in response to several different format proportions. These crops are
designed to maximize contour, shaping, proportional, and axis relationshipsbetween major
structures in the image subjects and the spaces in which they’re presented.
Clearly, images need not be cropped into strict rectangles. Trapezoidal and other, irregular,
angled planes are a prominent component of the branding system of which this publication
is a part; images are cropped into such shapes, and their position in illusory space is further
complicated by overlapping them with cut out blocks of text.
TOORMIX / SPAIN
Editing the Experience Designers intuitively understand that drawn or
painted images are mediated inventions; they don’t often so readily
appreciate that photographs are (and must be) just as mediated. A designer
must choose what to include and what to leave out. Not enough detail, or
relevant ones, and the communication may fall short; too much, or
unnecessary, detail will be distracting. Whether creating photographs
themselves or art directing a photographer, designers have two
opportunities to influence interpretation of a visual experience. The first is
in initially framing the subject in-camera, along with included props and the
background, as well as lighting and atmospheric condi- tions. The second
opportunity comes after shooting; image manipulation software makes it
easy to add, remove, reposition, and otherwise alter elements in the
environment. Even the most subtle decisions at either juncture will recast an
image’s meaning in dramatic ways. Pronounced mediation (like creating a
stage set or enforcing a color scheme) will highlight an image’s
contrivance, but viewers are likely to be seduced by its presumed, seamless
realism.
In this study for a mystery novel’s cover, the information conveyed by the image is altered as
a result of changes in content and composition. The first version (A) provides only neutral
facts: The viewer is in a bathroom, probably at a hotel. Version B confirms this information
with the addition of a hotel key, but the appearance of a knife and money signifies foul play;
a change in lighting, from even to more extreme, as well as its unusual direction, enhances
the sinister mood and further hints that something is wrong: Why is the light on the floor?
The extreme close-up of version C creates a feeling of paranoia—what’s happening beyond
the frame is unknown—and focuses attention on specific details: the time on the clock, the
point of the knife, the money, and the hotel key. The manipulation of the light, as well as
selective focus, helps draw attention to elements that may be relevant to the story.
Relatively simple framing and lighting strategies direct interpretation of the imagery in
these two projects. The figure in the page spread above is cropped out of the frame in favor
of her ephemeral reflection to emphasize the idea of contemplating one’s appearance. The
lighting in the image below is purposely cast from a low angle to illuminate only certain
parts of the body, heightening awareness of their sensitivity as they break the surface of the
water.
RESEARCH STUDIOS / UNITED KINGDOM ↑↑
JONA STUDIO / NETHERLANDS ↓
Conscious artifice, in the form of propping and styling, informs the photography in all the
projects shown here: Objects are organized in a geometric formation on a brand-colored
surface (above); a product is situated among colored, abstract blocks (below); an award
medal dramatizes quality and personifies the product (second image below); the
photographs in the fashion ad (third image below) use simple props to suggest seasons, but
are cropped and rotated in a quadrant formation to evoke the endless turning of the fashion
industry’s seasons; and the subjects in the photograph (fourth image below) are suspended
to create a surreal, playful experience.
ESTUDIO PANICO / ECUADOR ↑↑
METAKLINIKA / SERBIA ↓
VOICE / AUSTRALIA ↓
RÉGIS TOSETTI / UNITED KINGDOM ↓↓
NAM / JAPAN ↓
Subject Alteration Most concrete, empirically depictive images tend to
remain relatively neutral (despite any qualification from accompanying
text); but designers need not deploy an image in its unadulterated form.
Messing with an image presents possibilities for conveying specific ideas:
as its form changes, so too will its meaning. Manipulating a graphic icon
can add inventive visual interest and augment understanding. Even the most
radical alteration of photo-graphic material often will be convincing
because of photos’ presumed “truthiness”; it may, in fact, add such an
experiential quality that a viewer will perceive it as more “real”—
selectively blurring a static image of a car to convey motion, for example.
From a purely practical standpoint, altering photographs can erase
unwanted problems like blemishes from damaged prints and poor scans,
uneven lighting, and pixellation in low-resolution images. In addition to
overcoming a poor-quality image’s challenges, designers may find they also
have created something entirely new and far more interesting than even a
high-quality image may have provided from the outset.
A photograph may be considered an icon if it depicts its subject neutrally and acts as pure
description. As with graphical icons, such an image will signify only its subject unless it is
somehow given a new context or altered. In this study, the neutral icon “book” is
manipulated to create specific meanings. In the example at top, the image has been burned,
suggesting intellectual repression (or a famous work of science fiction, Farenheit 451 by
Ray Bradbury). In the example at bottom, the application of a digital filter to pixellate the
book’s pages signifies electronic media.
KELLY CHEW / UNITED STATES
In photography, tonal range—the number and depth of gray values—is of particular concern.
Traditionally, a good-quality photograph includes a clean, bright white; deep black; detail
present within shadow areas; and a fluid range of grays in between. This same range, from
darkest shadow to brightest highlight, also is desirable in color photographs.
—
Pushing the tonal range toward generally brighter values decreases the contrast in the
image and, to some degree, flattens it out; pushing the tonal range toward the shadow end
also tends to flatten the image but increases contrast and causes highlight areas to become
brighter and more pronounced. These effects of tonality shi are shown in the
accompanying images, in both black and white and color. Note the contrast differences
between corresponding images.
Altering a photograph is also a means of hiding the inferior quality of images that are
sometimes supplied by clients: poor lighting, surface problems from scratched prints or bad
scans, and blurring or so ness from low-resolution images. Selectively adjusting contrast
levels in an image’s tonal areas, or applying textural effects or filters available in so ware
can dramatically improve an image by introducing new syntax, rather than through an
attempt to fix the problems.
The designer of these images—section dividers in a UN presen-tation on its humanitarian
aid programs—applies a variety of physical and digital alterations to a generic map of the
continents to communicate the programs’ areas of concern.
STUDIO DIEGO FEIJOO / SPAIN
Color-filtering an already evocative landscape photograph enhances its romantic,
dreamlike quality and further brings its coloration into line with a palette established for
the client’s branding.
FUMAN / NEW ZEALAND
This still frame from the opening motion sequence of a program documenting an
enironment captures moments of documentary video footage editing themselves together to
create a comprehensive view of the program’s subject matter.
GRETEL / UNITED STATES
Because photographic images are so readily perceived as depictions of reality, designers
have incredible leeway in manipulating them without sacrificing believability. Despite the
surreal situation depicted in the top image, for example, viewers will find it easy to accept
the scene as credible. Further, this automatic assumption about the veracity of a
photograph permits designers to evoke sensory experiences through their manipulation.
Presenting a graphically exaggerated photograph of an object, as seen in the lower example,
trades on its believability and the corollary common understanding of its function to create
an immediately recognizable aural experience.
Enormous digital collages of spliced photographs and rhythmic lines of type wrap the walls
of the administrative offices of Madison Square Garden, an iconic New York City
entertainment venue.
POULIN+MORRIS / UNITED STATES
The images in the two posters, above, impart the understanding of transformation by
applying a change to an already appreciated subject. The poster below, on the other hand,
suggests that one subject matter gives rise to another: an icon or abstraction of sound
waves, as seen digitally, creates the lights and darks of a larger image: the face (and, thus,
the identity) of the poster’s subject.
LSD SPACE / SPAIN ↑
GORRICHO / ARGENTINA ↓
MIXER / SWITZERLAND ↓
A combination of colorizing and texturizing the imagery in the title sequence for a martial
arts drama situates the action in a particular locale, adds a sense of violence with rough
brushstrokes and inky spatters, and allows for unique transitions between scenes to allude
to intrigues and memories, and to summarize various contexts.
JOHN LIKENS / UNITED STATES
Found images of artworks that are relevant to the respective historical periods of the operas
promoted by these posters gain contemporary freshness, emotional appeal, and narrative
depth through colorization and the introduction of secondary textures and image elements.
GORRICHO / SPAIN
Mixing Media and Style Creating contrast among visual elements is key to
enlivening layouts—and this is no less true for imagery. Combining
different image modes offers another highly effective way of doing so. Very
textural, linear illustration, for instance, will dramatically contrast
photography’s rich tonal complexity. While it’s important that the different
styles being combined decisively contrast each other, they must also share
some visual qualities; the mix of media and styles will affect
communication as well. Each will embody certain associations:
Photographs are documentary and credible; illustrations are inventions,
evoke fantasy, display impossible or ideal situations, and subjective—even
if they are naturalistic; icons, symbols, and translations distill and simplify
complicated, abstract ideas, and are most often associated with diagrams,
navigation, and identification. The designer must selectively combine
image styles to support a given purpose, using the qualities of each to
appropriately convey intended messages and interact with each other in a
unified visual language that assimilates their visual contrasts as part of their
logic.

This motion sequence transitions from 3D contruction and photographic image mapping to
vector drawing to convey the idea of ancient, physical heritage giving rise to contemporary
artistic practice.
TOORMIX / SPAIN
The rich, almost collage-like mixture of tools used to create this image—airbrush, pen,
digital images, flat ink—contributes textural contrast and multiple layers of meaning to
consider.
MACIEJ HAJNRICH / POLAND
The book cover series above and the posters (also from a series), below, both follow the same
strategy: a base image unifies the components of their respective series, but is added to with
drawing and graphical elements of a different medium to characterize, or qualify, each
one’s particular narrative. The base image provides an overall subject context for
understanding; the secondary imagery, distinguished by its difference in medium, delivers
specific ideas in that context.
GORRICHO / ARGENTINA ↑
CARDON WEBB / UNITED STATES ↓
The decision to present the background image in illustrative form stems from the need to
solve two problems. First, the designer wanted to avoid visual conflict between two
photographs; the flatness of the illustration style visually separates it from the photograph
and causes it to recede into the background. Second, the illustration enhances the temporal
metaphor created by the two images—one showing a historical stage in cultural
development, the other showing a developmental stage in education.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
The “Style” Complication What does style itself even mean? In one sense,
it can refer to an individual’s particu- lar aesthetic sensibility or use of
medium; it can also refer to the aesthetics of a particular historical period.
In either case, it suggests a predetermined visual language that may or may
not be relevant to an image’s intended message. Developing an image’s
visual syntax within the constraints of a given style (personal or historical)
clearly has profound consequences on how an audience will interpret the
information it provides. Some schools of thought insist that a designer
should be neutral: that all of a project’s visual qualities should objectively
derive from the nature of the project’s ontent. Others insist that a designer’s
own visual sensibilities and aesthetic point of view lend individuality and
differentiate his or her work in a crowded market. Both arguments are valid,
and they aren’t mutually exclusive. It should be clear that a project’s
messaging must drive its visual language; but designers attempting to reach
that goal objectively and neutrally still are going to do so in their own ways
—and their work will always look like theirs.
The scraggly outline and cartoonish forms of this illustration mix humor and pathos in a
promotion for a studio that conveys its fascination with clip art and related drawing styles
of the 1950s, ʼ60s, and ʼ70s. These particular stylistic qualities distinguish the studio’s work
and, most likely, indicate something about its cultural and aesthetic philosophies.
AMES BROS. / UNITED STATES
These two projects nod to the aesthetics of prior, historical periods to draw parallels
between contemporary life and that of the times to which they refer—either for intellectual
reasons, as does the magazine cover above, with regard to an article on a historical subject
(alluding to poster styles of the mid-20th century); or as a branding narrative, as does the
promotional poster for a cocktail lounge, below (with references to the Gilded Age).
RESEARCH STUDIOS / UNITED KINGDOM ↑
FIASCO DESIGN / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
Vernacularism and Appropriation One way of making ideas relevant is to
“borrow,” or appropriate, visual syntax from a commonly recognizable
context which, often, may be one that is considered undesigned or of “low”
cultural value—a visual gesture or trope that is culturally well-understood.
Whether it’s the characteristically brushy hand-painting of supermarket ad
posters, the caricatured outlines of cartoon characters, or the visual qualities
associated with a handicraft, these gestures trade on the vernacular (the
term itself meaning “common language”). Appropriating a specific
vernacular language associates a communication’s messages with the
context of its source and, so, grants it a certain authenticity: it’s something
from the everyday world and, hence, uncontrived; or it purports to embody
longstanding, popular traditions. Borrowing form languages from outside
one’s own cultural tradition can effectively, and very immediately,
characterize a message’s cultural context; but it may also be perceived as
“stealing” that culture’s expression or disrespectfully (and ignorantly)
caricaturing it… proceed with caution.

Each of these projects situates its communication in a relevant vernacular. The hotel room
number signage above, borrows from an embroidery tradition common in its locale, while
the film festival brand mark just below restyles itself as film-industry logos from the past.
The brochures for Eastern-inspired real estate offerings further below abstractly evoke
Japanese decorative motifs. The CD cover that follows appropriates the low-brow language
of scribbled high school binders, while the business card shown last incorporates a logo that
simulates the brand stamp of a well-known producer of high-quality Parmesan cheese.
LUMINOUS DESIGN GROUP / GREECE ↑
FOR THE PEOPLE / TASMANIA ↓
STUDIO MAKGILL / UNITED KINGDOM ↓
STEREOTYPE DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↓
PARALLAX / AUSTRALIA ↓
 NARRATIVE MASSAGE

When Images Get Together A single image delivers a powerful semantic

punch; putting images together increases their semantic power to create
pictorial narrative, or visual storytelling. We humans are naturally curious
creatures, and we intuitively compare the identities and meanings we
perceive between objects or images in our visual field to understand why
they’re togther. Viewers will automatically seek a relationship between
juxtaposed images, each of which will influence the other’s meaning. Their
minds will attempt to reach a reasonable conclusion and make leaps to do
so, even if the available information is incomplete. A viewer might first see
an image of a biker, for example, and then an image of a man in a hospital
bed: he or she will likely deduce that there’s been a biking accident.
However, neither image explicitly represents this idea; even further,
concluding that the hospitalized man is the same biker is an unproven
assumption. That assumption is driven by another: that adjacent images
must have a meaningful relationship. Designers can powerfully exploit this
tendency to so readily construct meaning in the “space” between image
subjects.
The same image changes semantically—in varying degrees—each time it’s paired with an
image carrying its own semantic meaning. In the first pair, the semantic gap is quite small
and the resulting narrative subtle. In the second pair, the semantic gap creates the same
narrative but dramatically alters some assumptions about the meaning of the base image.
The third pair offers a semantic gap that forces the narrative in a completely unrelated—and
unexpected—direction.

Viewers will tend to appreciate the image pairs in the prior image as separate, but
corroborative, because each of the images seen together—despite abutting each other in
direct juxtaposition—is encountered individually as a self-contained unit, and its meaning
processed, before contemplating the relationship between each. In contrast, the images in
this group of posters will be perceived as inseparable, hybrid units; each one presents an
altered totality of meanings that can’t be separated from each other because the image
components have been integrated into singularities.
LSD SPACE / SPAIN
The conceptual space between what images show individually and how
they’re interpreted together is a semantic gap that results from how closely
their subjects might typically be associated. If one of the images indexes the
other very directly (see Modes of Signification, shown here), the semantic
gap will be quite small; a narrower, more literal interpreta-tion will result.
Conversely, if the two images are wildly different in subject, the wider
semantic gap allows for more far-ranging interpretation, veering toward the
conceptual or metaphorical. Interestingly, strong formal parity between
images will suggest a closer relationship even if the semantic gap is
enormous. As more images are introduced (simultan- eously or
sequentially), their narrative reinforces itself, compounding viewers’
assumptions; eventually, viewers will anticipate completion of the story.
This narrative momentum increases exponentially—any image appearing
later in a sequence will seemingly corroborate the narrative, even if it
empirically contradicts information encountered earlier. Suddenly
redirecting a narrative with an unexpected image (“a curve ball,” so to
speak) can be dramatically effective.

In this comparison of two sequences beginning with the same base image, the narratives are
wildly different, but the narrative momentum of each concludes with assumptions that you,
the viewer, has made that aren’t necessarily true. The rubble in the last image of the lower
sequence is not, empirically, that of the building shown earlier in the sequence. What
assumptions have been made about the information in the other sequence that cannot be
proven true?
Sequencing related images from one spread to the next creates distinct narratives in each
set of two-page spreads shown at right. In both sequences, the repetition of recognizable,
remembered subject components—the cheerleader, the couch—creates narrative
momentum: The viewer recognizes a kind of cause and effect because the same object
appears in each step of the narrative. In the cheerleader sequence, the semantic or narrative
gap is relatively small: The cheerleader is in flight and then is caught and is assumed safe.
The gap in the couch sequence is more extreme: We don’t see the couch move from one
location to the next, but it exists in a very different state in the second spread; looking more
closely, one can see that itʼs not even the same couch. Still, we assume that it is, that it has
been moved, and now is being put to use.
LOEWY / UNITED KINGDOM
Image/Text Interplay As soon as words appear next to an image, its
meaning is altered forever. Images are so suscep-tible to such change that a
designer may easily recast the same image over and over again by replacing
the words that accompany it. Once this knowledge is introduced, the
meaning of the image will be the composite of all the information acquired
through the sequence. Not surprisingly, the ability of images to change the
meanings of words is equally profound. This mutual, word-image
brainwashing effect works differently depending on whether the two are
shown together or in succession. If seen simultaneously, word and image
will reciprocally advance one idea without changing the other’s identity: a
single, gestalt message. If one is seen first and the other second, a viewer
has a chance to construct meaning before being influenced. In such cases,
the semantic gap is greatly widened and the impact of the change is more
dramatic: The viewer, in the short time given to assimilate and become
comfortable with the meaning of the first word or image seen, must give up
his or her assump-tions and, so, radically alter his or her mindset.

The same image is shown paired with different words. The semantic gap between word and
image—the weird, nebulous area wherein the viewer can construct a narrative relationship
between the two—is closer in the first pair, wider in the second, and extremely wide in the
third.
The brainwashing effect works in reverse. Here, the same word is paired with different
images, and the change in semantic gap, as well as in the word’s meaning, becomes more
pronounced.

In the layout above, the difference between the sharp photograph in the television and the
blurred image that follows it creates a sense that the blurred image is a televised image; but
the juxtaposition of the words creates a different meaning for the viewer: that real life is less
tangible than that depicted on television. In the poster (second image below) the cutout
letters of the word “democracy” hint at the political dialogue inherent in that social system.
The scissors and the work gloves suggest democracy’s constructive nature. The poster at
right plays on the word Futura, the name of a typeface, and the Spanish slang term Futuda,
which means mixed up or messed up (although more vulgar than that). The play on words
describes the mixer as a metaphor for remixing or deconstructing to promote a reworked
version of the classic sans-serif face.
BRETT YASKO / UNITED STATES ↑
STUDIO INTERNATIONAL / CROATIA ↓↓
LSD SPACE / SPAIN ↓
Cynical combinations of a happy-face icon with words of doom—and, alternately, images of
trash with expressions of kindness—create a satirical campaign that advocates for giving up
disposable, single-use containers by shaming its audience into responsible behavior.
TOORMIX / SPAIN
Two images of the same person, juxtaposed with two different headlines, create a double
identity for the man as teacher and companion.
COBRA / NORWAY

The poster at right presents what seems like a simple tableau in a common room; the word
Jesus transforms it into an altar of personal domesticity.
FINEST MAGMA / GERMANY
Ever Metaphor? In writing and speech, a metaphor is an expression that
refers to an intuitively unrelated idea to create additional meaning. A
sensitive young man’s intense romantic yearning may be described in terms
of a delicate, but clinging, vine; the exceptionally productive worker in
one’s office may be labeled a “machine.” Images can do the same thing: A
designer may present an image that means something else entirely, refers to
a much broader concept, or combines concepts to evoke a third concept that
is not explicit in either of the combinants. Visual metaphors are messages of
parity: a given subject is recast as equivalent to another subject. One option
is to depict one thing behaving, pictorially, like another (for instance,
presenting products in an urban cosmetics brochure configured as a city
sky- line). Yet another possibility is to combine two or more seemingly
unrelated images to suggest another form with its own meaning, implying
some narrative connection between ideas (showing a corncob with wheels
to suggest the idea of plant-based auto fuel).

Social and political public-awareness campaigns o en rely on visual metaphors to

communicate provocative positions because theyʼre able to very simply distill complex
ideas, and because they so quickly bypass viewersʼ ability to dissect and refute them out of
hand—as do the projects shown here: The poster above le intellectually embeds a striking
equivalency before any reading can take place; the poster to its right shows the two digits of
an infamous date falling into a cascade of dominoes, implying the resulting political and
cultural ramifications of a terrorist attack; and the poster furthest to the right characterizes
one kind of insult with color and joins it to another. In the frames from an antismoking
public service commercial (shown below), the graphic shape of the cigarette creates a focus
of attention, letterboxing the action as it confines and traps the people—and then
metaphorically burns them to ash.
PETTIS DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↑
LESLEY MOORE / NETHERLANDS ↓
LSD SPACE / SPAIN ↓
2FRESH / TURKEY ↓
A designer may also consider altering one image by having another act
upon it: chopping the first image up, mixing it into a texture, pushing it out
of the way, making it vibrate, and so on. Trading on audiences’ cultural,
political, histor- ical, and personal experiences by mashing up commonly
agreed-upon symbolic or allusive meanings can deliver dramatically
startling messages—startling and eminently powerful because they not only
tend to necessitate unique inventions of form but, more importantly,
because they draw upon deeply ingrained understanding, memory, and
social themes to provoke exaggerated responses that resonate deeply in a
target audience. Symbols are signs that hold meaning that comes to be
understood through socialization, an “agreed upon” signification in which
the members of a social group participate. Symbols have ritual depth and
significance; simply juxtaposing certain ones, or constructing one using
another, equally symbolic image, is bound to elicit a dramatic, provocative
metaphor.

On a lighter note, the cover designs for this popular entertainment magazine draw on well-
known tropes related to fictional cinematic and literary characters to attract readers to its
content with humor and familiarity.
MUCHO / SPAIN
In this conceptual promotional piece, small cubes of sugar are wrapped in typography that
expresses ideas about “sweetness” from a survey and packages them together.
COMA / NETHERLANDS
The floral wallpaper used to cover this book evokes the tasteful parlors of higher class
English culture.
MICHELLE LIV / UNITED STATES

The motion component of branding for National Geographic, a media offering devoted to
exploration, combines two visual metaphors: A typographic continuum, called the “index,”
with which program information flows, without stopping, between micro- and macro-level
displays; its data can be contextual to specific shots and shows (atmospheric density of
Mars, nautical miles between tuna boats, Arctic temperatures), or just deliver primary and
secondary messaging. Images use a mapping metaphor, combining bits of data to form a
more complete picture by so ly tiling into place.
GRETEL / UNITED STATES
Multilayered, rhythmically pulsing currents of colorful dots convey the intangible qualities
of pitch, timbre, and tempo of musical composition in this festival website.
HAE JIN LEE / UNITED STATES
The spreads of this book on abnormal psychology incorporate dramatically manipulated
images and typography to describe the emotional conditions presented in each chapter.
AKU / ESTONIA
The respective designers of these two projects summon the fun of office iconography: the web
page and business card above integrate the metaphor of tabbed file folders across branded
media (just below); and the web page (second image below) mixes two metaphors—that of
the physical sticky note and the digital desktop “document” icon.
SELF-TITLED / AUSTRALIA ↑
FOR THE PEOPLE / TASMANIA ↓
Presenting the numerals as large architectural elements is a kind of photographic
pictorialization that metaphorically supports the subject matter of the poster but also
transforms the text—verbal ideas—into concrete constructions.
STUDIO INTERNATIONAL / CROATIA
A book cover (above) and a poster (below) both transform minimalist images of sound
recording and playback technology (a vinyl LP and a speakerʼs subwoofer, respectively) into
metaphorical diagrams of the cosmos.
JANET HANSEN / UNITED STATES ↑
ETHAN HAYES / UNITED STATES ↓
 PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER

There is no recipe for a good layout. What must be

maintained is a feeling of change and contrast.
ALEXEY BRODOVITCH/Pioneering graphic designer and art director

IN THIS CHAPTER:
MERGING TYPE AND IMAGE
Creating an integrated experience between the two basic kinds of visual language in a layout is
one of the most confounding challenges for designers. This chapter begins with a reminder that
type is just as visual as images—and outlines ways to create layout relationships that fuse the
two.

WORKING WITH GRIDS

One way of organizing visual material is to situate its parts along an invisible framework of
regularly spaced guides or “grid.” A grid establishes a visual architecture, useful in print and web-
based projects alike, that unifies content elements and streamlines production—especially for
multipart projects.

INTUITIVE ARRANGEMENT
Although grids are helpful, and o en standard, for organizing material in print- and web-based
editorial projects, there are other ways to arrange design elements in a layout—including “by
eye.” This section explores a number of free-form strategies for cohesively integrating type and
imagery.

DESIGN AS A SYSTEM
Most projects comprise multiple parts; designers typically must develop a visual language that
unifies them, but provides flexibility to accommodate their differences. In this section, you’ll
discover ways to think systematically about part-to-whole relationships, sequencing, and pacing
among project elements.

THE WORKING PROCESS

Ultimately, designing—the activity of visualizing ideas for communication—is a consulting
profession. It integrates creativity and entrepreneurship in a process that aligns strategic,
marketing, problem-solving, conceptual, and technological expertise. You’ll see that process here,
in theory and in practice.
 MERGING TYPE AND IMAGE

Seeing Two Things As One Very simply, all design projects incorporate
just two kinds of stuff: type and imagery. The big question, therefore, is
“How do I put these two different things together?” Poor type/image
integration creates one of two conditions: Either a state of separation and
disunity, or one in which the type is so aggressively integrated that it
becomes nonfunctional. Getting type to unify seamlessly with images is a
serious challenge because of its persistent difference from everything else:
Images exhibit a staggering variety of formal qualities, but type is always
type: graphical lines and the patterns they make. And type means
something, which makes it that much harder to evaluate on a purely visual
level, in relation to the more intuitively understandable formal qualities of
imagery, without getting distracted by its informational aspects.
Overcoming type’s stark, alien difference from other visual material
depends on finding common ground between type’s limited formal qualities
and imagery’s more complex and varied kinds—and that means stripping
both down to essential, geometric form identities and behaviors.
SHAPE

The design of the brochure cover, above, is a great refresher on form identity (see
chapter 1)—and an equally useful example with which to confront the most basic kind
of visual relationship between imagery and typography. The abstract painted clusters
positioned on the le and right sides of the cover are dots, of course; and, so are the
three lowercase letters a, s, and o: a simple reminder that even though visual elements
(in this case, letters) aren’t literally dot-like in form, they very o en behave as dots do.
Further, the horizontal, blue ink smear is clearly a line, as are the diagonally oriented,
looping ink marks, as well as the two smaller, horizontally oriented lines of text.
VOICE / AUSTRALIA
The two-page spreads above call attention to other ways that type and imagery can
share shape relationships. In the spread at top, that similarity occurs between the
right-angled item in the photograph and the F of the title element; and, in the shapes of
paragraphs of text, which can mimic almost any shape to be found in an image. In the
spread just above, curving elements in the image at lower le —as well as its circular
vignette—are echoed by the arcs of the header reading “table of contents.” These arcs
are contrasted by the overall angular shape of the content text block, and by the
horizontal lines of the individual section listings that are part of it.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↑↑
JIL GUYON / UNITED STATES ↑
STRUCTURE

Structural relationships between type and imagery are to be found in both the overall
gestural shaping that a structure produces and in axis alignments (see here and here,
respectively, in chapter 1). In the mailer just below, a structure created by the vertical
sewing machine needle and the heavier, trapezoidal form from which is descends, is
restated by the Arabic type (albeit, in reverse, top to bottom). Additionally, the Arabic
and English titles stagger to respond to the diagonal axis created by the edge of the
fabric below them. In the poster at bottom, diagonal—as well as vertical—axes in the
image, along with angular structures, are picked up by the title and the block of
secondary text below it.
VCU QATAR / QATAR ↑
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES ↓↓
The width proportion of the text column in the journal spread at top mimics that of the
dark space in the photograph that’s defined by the bright, vertical scaffolding struts
toward its le -hand side; in the same text column, the division between the top
paragraph of bolder text and the lighter text that follows it corresponds to a
horizontal, linear structure in the image as well. In the book spread just below, the
paragraph restates the shape of the window in the image, but most of the relationships
that the typography establishes with the photograph are structural ones: alignments of
baselines, caplines, and flush edges to axes within the image itself, and between type
units.
STUDIO WORKS / UNITED STATES ↑↑
ESTUDIO PÁNICO / ECUADOR ↓
VALUE

Because typographic color is so closely related to value, finding potential similarities

in light/dark logic between the two worlds can be a valuable strategy. Alternating dark
and light typographic elements in the upper portion of the book cover, above, repeat
the dark and light value breaks in the landscape image. In the web page below, masses
of dark, medium, and light tones in both image areas and type refer to each other—
most o en literally, but sometimes only implicitly.
ANDREAS ORTAGE / AUSTRIA ↑
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↓
TEXTURE

Of course, type is a texture; changes in spacing between lines, and the way they align
or rag, can transform it to play off those seen within an image or graphic element.
Here, individual lines of callout text incorporate changes in spacing, size, and weight
—while blocks of text alternate between looser and tighter leading—to mimic the
surface activity of the drawing they accompany.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
Font style itself also offers opportunities to create textural relationships by virtue of its
detailing and, as seen in both the packaging (top) and brochure cover (below, with
detail following) dot/line and thin/thick contrasts.
PODPUNKT / POLAND ↑↑
COBRA / NORWAY ↓
RHYTHM

Rhythm is about visual movement, and it happens much the same ways with type as it
does with images: through directional tracking of axes (remember that type is made up
of lines); and through visual “pulsing,” as the proportions of elements and the spaces
between them expand or contract. The design of the CD case at le comprises all of that
in one place. Here, the image is abstract (never mind that it happens to create a letter
M); its rhythm is primarily vertical—a vigorous up-and-down motion. That movement
also begins somewhat compressed, with the first strokes close together, and then
expanding rightward. The type plays a counterpoint—its lines expand and contract
horizontally, alternating in weight and size to restate the brushwork’s vertical motion
laterally. Changes in letter width and weight add further interval change; and the
vertical axis and stepping motion created by the two large title elements again repeats
the brush’s up/down zigzag.
MARTA GAWIN / POLAND
These two-page spreads show contrasting rhythm relationships between imagery and
type. Above, the type generally participates in the vertical movement of the image
forms; in the spread below, the main text columns’s verticality counters the lateral
rhythm of the images across the gutter, while the titling and upper-level hierarchic
elements repeat it.
FROST DESIGN / AUSTRALIA ↑↑
YONG CHOI / UNITED STATES ↓
The image in this poster is a combination of photograph and distorted type whose
“blown-out” (high contrast) highlights create a lateral rhythm of pulsing bright areas
across the format. In response, the lines of type stagger back and forth; bolder and
lighter weights alternate; and bullets within text elements add to the textural quality
of the rhythm.
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES
To Be, Or Not to Be Given that visual totality in a project is a desirable
goal, it makes a lot of sense to first look for ways to treat type so it’s
visually similar to adjacent images: to make them formally congruent. Such
congruence can be found in the five basic attributes we looked at
previously: shape, structure, value, texture, and rhythm. Because images
typically exhibit a huge variety of formal syntax, a designer can pick and
choose which kinds of similarities to manifest in their treatment of type
elements—and, preferably, to combine several: a single type element that
restates, or riffs on, several visual qualities in an image becomes that much
more powerfully integrated with it. Type/image congruence may express a
direct, one-to-one relationship (literally repeating the image attributes in
every way); or it may indirectly extrapolate a given attribute without being
specific: given an image with strong diagonal or angular elements, for
example, the accompanying type need not be oriented at the same angles—
simply rotating the type, or setting it in text blocks that are shaped like
parallelograms, may be clearly congruent enough.

In this page spread from a philanthropic organiza- tion’s publication, the type/image
relationships emphasize formal congruence over opposition between the two. This strategy
supports the organization’s message of unity in purpose. Visual tension, however, results
from qualities of opposition that are subtly expressed by the congruent aspects.
ISOMETRIC STUDIO, INC. / UNITED STATES

SHAPE

CONGRUENCE
Type and image both express qualities of dot and line; the narrow column of text, upper le ,
mimics the shape of the arm; the font’s shapes correspond to similar ones in the image’s
details.
—
OPPOSITION
Aside from the title’s horizontality (which is really a structural difference), there is little
formal opposition in shape between the type and the image.

STRUCTURE

CONGRUENCE
The figure creates a right-angle structure that is repeated by the narrow text column and
title, but in greatly exaggerated proportion.
—
OPPOSITION
The title, as a unit unto itself, opposes the figure’s generally vertical structure with its hori-
zontal structure.

VALUE

CONGRUENCE
Both the image material and the type are dramatically lighter in value as compared to the
background field.
—

OPPOSITION

The image presents two apparent levels of value, while the type presents one—which is
overall lighter than either of the values to be found in the image.

TEXTURE

CONGRUENCE
The image is made up primarily of lines, but those lines are broken, made of dots; the
narrow column of text, because of its type’s point size, creates a similar texture. If one
considers the icons at upper le to also be typographic, the dot/line congruence repeats.
—

OPPOSITION
The title element, being very linear (but solid), presents the greatest textural opposition
against the image’s dot-formed lines. It also directly opposes the dots created by the stars.

RHYTHM

CONGRUENCE
The narrow text column, together with the title, repeat the up/down and le /right
movement established by the image.
—
OPPOSITION
The title is large enough that it also visually separates from the narrow text column and,
thus, emphasizes its horizontal stagger against the primarily vertical movement of the
image.
One potential hazard of making type and images too formally congruent is
creating the sensation that the type is “enslaved” by the imagery: trying too
hard to be just like it, not having its own life, and feeling forced. Relating
type elements to images by pointing out formal opposition (or, more simply,
contrast) between the two kinds of material actually can help clarify their
individual characteristics: A horizontally cropped image, juxtaposed with a
narrow text column, calls attention to the aspect of proportion. The caveat is
that some congruence between the elements must also be appreciable,
otherwise they’re just different—just as with a visual hierarchy (see chapter
one, shown here). Accomplishing this state of tension is most easily
achieved with the “seesaw” method: establishing certain kinds, and degrees,
of congruence and balancing these with other kinds, and degrees, of
opposition to create equilibrium. As one increases oppositional qualities,
one must also exaggerate some congruencies to ensure that the oppositional
qualities don’t dominate and, so, potentially destroy the unity between type
and image.

The design of this website foregrounds relationships of formal opposition between type and
imagery—in general compositional structure, and with regard to internal image attributes
—to impart edginess and a sense of urban hustle. To help unify the two kinds of material,
certain type elements occasionally restate rhythmic aspects of the composition; and subtle
details, like punctuation and stylistic treatments in the text, pick up on image attributes.
For clarity, the page is shown mid-scroll, rather than in its initial state upon landing.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES

SHAPE

CONGRUENCE
Groups of letters in the condensed font create rectangles that correspond to the rectilinear
proportions of the images.
—
OPPOSITION
The narrow, vertical column of text elements contrasts the horizontal shapes and
proportions of the images.

STRUCTURE

CONGRUENCE
Longer lines of callout text participate in horizontal alignment with image axes; forward
slashes, used as informational separators in text, refer to the diagonality of images’
contours and axes.
—
OPPOSITION
Top-level hierarchic elements express a diagonal structure, in contrast to the horizontally
banded, compositional structure of the layouts—which is also opposed by the vertical axis
of the narrow column.

VALUE

CONGRUENCE
The relative darkness or light-ness of heading and callout text elements alternates with that
of darker and lighter image elements.
—
OPPOSITION
The vertical text column is overall lighter in value compared to all values that are
appreciable within the images.

TEXTURE

CONGRUENCE
The vertical strokes of the condensed font are similar to the linear forms and dark, linear
features in the images.
—
OPPOSITION
The type’s sharpness is a strong contrast to the blurred edges of the imagery’s vignettes.

RHYTHM

CONGRUENCE
As the diagonally structured heading elements scroll within the browser, their movement
corresponds to the implicit diagonals created by the staggered, lateral arrangement of the
image bands.
—
OPPOSITION
The images express an overall lateral/horizontal motion, while the type is primarily vertical
in its emphasis (whether literally, in the column, or implicitly, in the condensed quality of
the font).

Type alignments and the angular configurations of text groups relate to the alignments and
shaped crops of the images, both pictorial and purely abstract.
MAKEBARDO / NEW ZEALAND
The symmetrical structure of the text elements restates that of the central figure in the
image; the type’s horizontal darker and lighter blocks (including the bold lines) refer to the
darker and lighter, horizontal divisions in the image’s background.
STUDIO VIE / AUSTRIA
Proportional divisions in the image on the le -hand page of this spread—some wider and
some narrower—are repeated on the right-hand page, in the division between the main
column of text and the narrow channel of space that contains the inset image and its
caption; the top line of the main text block is positioned relative to dark, horizontal line
elements in the image; and the varied depths of the two text columns plays off similar
changes in depth among image forms as they drop from the top of the page.
PEOPLE DESIGN / UNITED STATES
One particular component of the image (the landscape’s diagonal slope) becomes the basis
for the rotated orientation of the text; the value contrast between large section titles and
individual chapter listings restates that defined by the sky, relative to the land below it, as
does its color.
DECLAN ZIMMERMAN / UNITED STATES
Overlaps of inset image rectangles are mimicked by overlaps of type; negative, “white”
rectangles further overlap the positive type forms to create dynamic
foreground/background changes that affect both kinds of material. The linear quality of the
large type, together with the textural wuality of the small paragraph, contrast the planar
quality of the images.
GRETEL / UNITED STATES
The brochure spread above and the poster just below introduce graphical (and so,
typographic) details into the areas occupied by images—a strategy that helps unify the two
materials while keeping them distinct.
GARBETT / AUSTRALIA ↑
TOORMIX / SPAIN ↓
Transparency and overlap visually join the image with the typography in this brochure
spread, despite how different the two are in texture and value.
BRAND BROTHERS / FRANCE
Spatial Interaction Another important consideration is establishing clear
relationships between how image elements and type elements exist within
the space of a given format. As we’ve seen (see pp. 56 and 222) images can
occupy space in a number of ways: they may be full-bleed (filling the
format edge to edge); inset (cropped into a shape which, itself, creates
compositional relationships); or silhouetted (being “cut out” so they “float”
within the format). In whichever of these states an image appears, the
positional relationship of any accompanying type poses new questions: Is
the type floating in a layer in front of the imagery? Is it on top of the
images? How far in the foreground does the type appear to be, as compared
to the depth location of the imagery? Maybe the type is embedded within an
image, or crosses the boundary between its field and the surrounding
space… Or is the type simply next to the images, occupying the same
spatial position? Any of these relationships can be visually dynamic—and
even if the type itself isn’t formally congruent with the image, their spatial
dynamic can help interrelate them.
When images are discrete compositional objects within a space, type elements may appear
adjacent to them. In doing so, congruence and opposition in shape between type and image
dominates; the attribute of value is of secondary concern; and the attributes of texture and
rhythm are the least pronounced.

Type may easily overlap image elements, whether they are silhouetted or inset, creating the
perception of a pronounced foreground/background relationship. Two different
possibilities, both resulting in the same effect, are shown here: one in which the type
originates within the image’s boundaries and extends into the surrounding space; and
another in which the type originates and terminates in the space but traverses the image.
Typographic material that exists solely within the confines of an image’s boundaries
becomes part of that image and disconnects in nearly every way from potential visual
relationships that may exist in the surrounding space.
Within a full-bleed image—one that completely fills a format from edge to edge in all
directions—typographic elements exhibit a strange duality. They become new compositional
elements that are part of the image itself; but in so doing, they also retain their
compositional independence to a certain degree.
All of the text is contained within the full-bleed image’s field; but the text that appears at
lower right is separated from the full bleed image as a foreground element.
KATE HOOVER / UNITED STATES
The vertical, overlapped title—as well as the geometric blocks of white and yellow—appears
to float in front of and over the image on an invisible foreground plane, thanks to their
enormous scale and tremendous value contrast with the image. Oddly, the subtitle occupies
a space inside the white bar at the top.
THOMAS CSANO / CANADA

Type and Inset Images Once an inset image (whether cropped into a
geometric or organic plane) enters a field, the axes created by its edges
cannot be ignored. The aligned edge of type will readily respond to such
axes. It may be equally clear and dynamic, however, for text elements to not
align with the edges or axes of an inset image (just make sure the
misalignment is decisive). Responding to the inset image’s internal
composition offers additional, and sometimes far more interesting,
opportunities. Look for strong vertical, horizontal, or diagonal breaks or
movement within the image as potential sources for alignment; clearly
defined shapes within an image may similarly provide inspiration for the
shaping of text blocks. Rectangularly cropped images may arguably relate
best to the orthogonal characteristics of typographic structure; the mutually
enhancing geometry of these two becomes more significant, and rigorous,
when there are multiple images and multiple text blocks. Using a grid to
organize such material is an intutive next step a designer may consider,
discussed in depth in the following section.
The axes created by the edges of any angular, geometric form offer possibilities for
positioning type elements to establish alignment relationships. The aligned edge of a text
element may travel along an axis or anchor to it orthogonally.
The outer edges of circular forms, if large enough, also present axes, although these need
not be considered solely orthogonal ones. The internal symmetrical axes (vertical and
horizontal) of a circular form are also valid for establishing alignment relationships.
The positions of this poster’s type elements refer to the circular inset image’s outer contour,
central axis, and to axes contained within it.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
The relationships between rectangular axes of inset images and type in this magazine
spread alternate between instances of alignment and nonalignment. Visual information
within images—for instance, the strong horizon in the large photograph on the le -hand
page—also helps define positions for text blocks.
FOLCH STUDIO / SPAIN
Type and Silhouetted Images Silhouetted images share a visual
relationship with the rags of paragraphs or columns but also share an
opposing relationship with their alignments. Type adjacent to a silhouetted
image offers more or less contrast, depending on its location relative to the
image. If its rag leads into the image’s contours, the two elements flow
together, and the type might seem to share the spatial context of the image.
Bringing the vertical alignment of a column into proximity with an image’s
irregular contour produces the opposite effect: the type advances in space
and disconnects itself from the spatial context of the image. It’s equally
important to be conscious of formal elements contained within the
silhouetted image—just as one must be conscious of them within an image
that is cropped into an inset shape. The goal is to find congruence between
its internal material and the typographic language that exists outside of it—
so as to ensure integration, despite the image’s dominant, irregular contour.
Despite silhouettes’ irregular contours, geometry under-pins their structures; internal axes
may define options for positioning type elements for greater integration. Look to play type
off other visual syntax as well: dark-value elements and boundaries between contrasting
forms; tonal changes that may present possibilities for adjusting text values; and shapes or
surface activity within the silhouette may relate to stroke and terminal details in a typeface.
Position silhouetted images to ensure they flow smoothly into the type’s geometry without
seeming awkwardly out of place. Note the alternation of hard edges and organic ones in
multiple directions. The relationship between the image shape and the rag becomes
dominant if the rag enters into the image’s contour; the geometric alignment in the same
block of text will naturally counter the irregular forms within the silhouetted image.
Allowing text to overlap the silhouette helps further integrate the two.
In both the brochure spread (above) and the web page (below), the type’s geometric
qualities, with respect to those of the images, is quite apparent—restating the value/weight
distribution and stepped diagonality of the image or contrasting its curvilinearity with
angles and horizontals, respectively.
FROST DESIGN / AUSTRALIA ↑
RED CANOE / UNITED STATES ↓
Type and Full-Bleed Images Type that is placed within the field of an
image must respond to the image’s composition as though it is one made of
independent compositional forms. Although the type has become part of the
image, it must still engage in specific instances of congruence and
opposition with the internal components of the image, just as it would in
any other circumstance. The most challenging aspect of composing type
within a full-bleed image is that of ensuring legibility through adequate
contrast between the type’s value and that of whatever is behind it. Finding
a relatively open, simple area within the image (one that is overall dark or
overall light, and devoid of changes in value or small, complicated detail)
will generally allow the type to be set in a value that is the opposite. One
danger here is the potential to fill up the negative spaces in the image that
contribute to its own compositional dynamism. The joy of working with
type in full-bleed scenarios is that the type becomes so dimensional and
integrated; but this depends on the image retaining the vitality of its existing
positive/negative characteristics.
While the type in this poster takes advantage of large, tonally simple areas, the designer has
le the majority of the interesting spaces untouched.
HELENA WANG / UNITED STATES
For all appearances, the chapter title on this book spread is situated on the gallery wall at
the back of the image.
FINEST MAGMA / GERMANY
The designer of this book cover uses diagonal rotation of the type to oppose the dot-like
central form in the image, but staggers the lines of text to create inward and outward
movement that echoes similar movement in the clouds and stars. Despite the volume and
size of the text, valuable negative space is retained to prevent visual cluttering.
DECLAN ZIMMERMAN / UNITED STATES
 WORKING WITH GRIDS

The Grid System All design work involves organizational problem

solving. Pictures, fields of text, headlines, and tabular data: all these pieces
must come together to communicate. A grid is an organizational framework
of vertical and horizontal axes that may be used to govern alignment and
proportional relationships among such elements—and it is simply one
approach to achieving this goal. Grids can be loose and organic or they can
be rigorous and mechanical. Among other things, a grid helps solve
communication problems of great complexity. The benefits of working with
a grid are simple: clarity, efficiency, economy, and continuity. A grid
introduces systematic order to a layout, helps distinguish between various
types of information, and eases a user’s navigation through them. Using a
grid permits a designer to lay out enormous amounts of information in a
short time because it sets up layout guidelines based on a project’s
communication needs. A grid also allows many individuals to collaborate
on the same project or on a series of related projects over time, without
compromising established visual qualities from one instance to the next.
GRID ANATOMY

A grid consists of a distinct set of alignment-based relationships that serves as a guide for
distributing elements across a format. Every grid contains the same basic parts, no matter
how complex the grid becomes. These parts can be combined as needed or omitted from the
overall structure at the designer’s discretion, and the proportions of the parts is similarly
dependent on the designer’s needs.
Gutters are interstitial spaces between columns (column gutters) and rows (row gutters)
that separate fields of content (text or images) from one another.

Markers are placement indicators for subordinate or consistently appearing text, such as
running heads, section titles, folios, or any other element that occupies only one location in
any layout.

Columns are vertical alignments of type that create horizontal divisions between the
margins. There can be any number of columns; sometimes they are all the same width, and
sometimes they are different widths, corresponding to specific information. The page
diagrammed here shows four columns of even width.
Margins are the negative spaces between the format edge and the content, that surround
and define the live area where type and images will be arranged. The proportions of the
margins bear a great deal of consideration, as they help establish the overall tension within
the composition. Margins can be used to focus attention, serve as a resting place for the eye,
or act as an area for subordinate information.

Flowlines are alignments that break the space into horizontal bands. Flowlines help guide
the eye across the format and can be used to impose additional stopping and starting points
for text or images. There may be one flowline or several.

If there are numerous flowlines at regular intervals, breaking the page top to bottom in a
repeated proportion, a system of rows is created that intersects the vertical columns.

Modules are individual units of space separated by regular intervals that, when repeated
across the page format, create columns and rows.
Spatial zones are groups of modules that form distinct fields. Each field can be assigned a
specific role for displaying information; for example, one horizontal field might be reserved
for images, and the field below it might be reserved for a series of text columns.

The exhibition design, above, and the website, below, both structure their respective content
on a modular grid. slight deviations notwithstanding, the material in the exhibition design
is very rigorously constrained within the grid’s modules, which are made explicit through
physical gaps between display panels.
—
In contrast, the modularity of the website is somewhat less rigorously enforced—or, shows
greater variation in how module widths can be combined in different ways to accommodate
text and image content of differing proportion.
INFINITO / PERU ↑
MUBIEN / SPAIN ↓
In the publication at top, the full area defined by the column and row structure is free to
accommodate information of any type, and at any location within the page area. In the
page spread just below, the designers define the lower half of the page as a spatial zone that
contains supporting image details and text content as distinct from the primary,
introductory content presented in the upper half.
LSD SPACE / SPAIN ↑
PODPUNKT / POLAND ↓
COLUMN GRID

Information that is discontinuous benefits from being organized into an arrangement of

vertical columns. Because the columns can be dependent on each other for running text,
independent for small blocks of text, or crossed over to make wider columns, the column
grid is very flexible. For example, some columns might be reserved for running text and
large images, while captions might be placed in an adjacent column.

Any number of columns can be used, depending on the format size and the complexity of the
content; even two- and three-column grids, among the most common used in designing
publications, provide a tremendous number of layout options. Flowlines define horizontal
alignments in increments from the top of the page. Regardless of the number of columns,
the body and margins may be related asymmetrically or symmetrically (mirrored).
ISOMETRIC STUDIO, INC. / UNITED STATES ↑
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↓
MODULAR GRID

Extremely complex projects require even more precise control, and, in this situation, a
modular grid might be the most useful choice. A modular grid is essentially a column grid
with a large number of horizontal flowlines that subdivide the columns into rows, creating a
matrix of cells called “modules.” Each module defines a small chunk of informational space.
Grouped together, these modules define areas called spatial zones to which specific roles
can be assigned. The degree of control within the grid depends on the size of the modules.
Smaller modules provide more flexibility and greater precision, but too many subdivisions
can become confusing or redundant. Variations on the number and stress of the module
achieve different kinds of presence for the typographic and image content.

NAROSKA DESIGN / GERMANY ↑

PATRICIA ERNE / UNITED STATES ↓
HIERARCHIC GRID

Sometimes the visual and informational needs of a project require an odd grid that doesn’t
fit into any category. These grids—called hierarchic grids—conform to the needs of the
information they organize, but they are based more on an intuitive placement of alignments
customized to the various proportions of the elements, rather than on regular repeated
intervals.
Column widths, as well as the intervals between them, vary depending on context and use;
they may make use of several rows grouped together in only one part of a format, joined by
a single column; or they may consist only of broad, simple divisions defined by a few
guidelines. Whether used to build books, posters, or web pages, it’s an organic approach to
ordering information in space that still holds all of the parts together architecturally with
clear, orthogonal relationships.
ASTRID STAVRO STUDIO / SPAIN ↑
STUDIO BLUE / UNITED STATES ↓
COMPOUND GRID

Depending on the complexity of the publication, a designer might find that multiple grids
are needed to organize the content, within sections or even a single-page spread. The
differences in visual logic between material responding to different grids can make very
clear distinctions between sections or types of content.
One option is to superimpose grids that share outer margins, allowing them to be relatively
arbitrary in their relationship to each other; a second option is to superimpose grids that
each define their own margins, with specific column widths or flowlines corresponding
between the grids (or not); a third option is to combine grids opposite each other on a single
page spread—or, on a single page, but to separate that page into different areas.

COMA / NETHERLANDS ↑
IDEAS ON PURPOSE / UNITED STATES ↓
Grid by Image An effective grid derives from a project’s content. If a
given project is image heavy (like a coffee table book or an exhibition
website) one useful approach is to base the grid’s characteristics on those of
the imagery. Begin by placing a representative selection of images on a
page, all sized to the same height and sharing an alignment, to see how their
formats vary. Scaling the images to match widths or heights at different
sizes will reveal instances in which their respective proportions correspond
with each other, thereby permitting one to define either only a set of column
intervals but, sometimes, a universal module. An important consideration is
whether the images will appear at relative size to each other, or at any size.
A designer may then develop proportional measures for the images and
surrounding text areas. It’s also possible to structure a grid based on how
images will be sized in succession (perhaps first bleeding fully off one
page, then a half-page vertical, then inset, and so on). In this case, the
proportions of the images as they relate to the format will define a series of
intervals that can be subdivided more precisely.

In this hypothetical study, several source images, each with different proportions, are
positioned relative to each other to help determine where their depths and widths might
correspond. More likely than not, the aspect ratios of the images in the group will be very
different. Some formats may be related in width or depth; others may be fractionally
related if their relative scales change—if shrinking one, for instance, to match another’s
height, causes it to be half the width of the second image. Shi ing the images around, and
at different sizes can help distill a module to form the basis of a column and row structure
that will accommodate all of the images’ formats—at a variety of sizes—for maximum layout
variation.
Another way of thinking about images as a source for building a grid is how their shapes
relate to that of the format in which they’ll appear. Similar to the method described above,
the shape of the images can be used to define a module; a grid made built this way could just
as easily consist of columns whose measures happen to be some fractional subdivision of
the image’s width when it is sized as desired within the format area.
—
In this study, a placeholder for a square-format image confronts each of three formats (top
row)—each time revealing secondary, square-based spatial breaks in a different way, due to
the differences in the formats’ respective proportions; each gives rise to a highly
individuated grid as a result.
—
Again, the same formats are shown but, this time, with grids based on relating two images
to each format (bottom row). The square image defines the same vertically shaped area to
its right in each format as a result of its changing size. The vertical space is a reference to the
proportion of the second image. This logic gives rise to a grid that correlates the proportions
of both images in all three formats as an integrated system.
Grid by Text Alternatively, one can base a grid’s structure on a text’s
typesetting attributes. The first consideration is how much text is involved:
publishers typically budget for a specific number of pages, so each page
must accommodate a certain number of words. Even so, the optimal setting
is a good starting point. Comparing optimal settings for different text styles
can indicate a width for columns, and, further, how many columns will
comfortably fit side-by-side on a single page. Adjusting the text’s stylistic
attributes will allow the designer to create a preliminary structure. From this
point, the designer must evaluate the resulting margins (head, sides, and
foot) and determine whether there is enough space surrounding the body to
keep it away from the edges of the format. Because optimal width can vary
a little with the same text setting, the designer has some leeway in forcing
the columns to be wider or more narrow as needed. Last, if a modular grid
is called for, comparing how the respective leading measures of the text
styles meet up at various depths may reveal a repeating interval that can
establish a row structure.
To find a column measure: align specimens of the type styles to the le , in a vertical stack.
Draw vertical guidelines as shown to mark their le -aligned edges, as well as each
specimen’s longest line. Slightly adjust the positions of the long-line guides to discover a
fractional relationship between the styles’ respective widths—where the caption width, for
instance, might be one-half, or one-third, that of the running text. Combine fractional
widths and/or split the differences to yield a single width increment that governs all the
widths as a multiple of itself: two for the caption, four for running text, and so on. Some
variance between the original text widths and new “protocolumn” width will be evident;
remember that “optimal” has a character-count tolerance built in. This universal increment
will be the column width.
To find a row measure: position specimens of the text styles adjacent to each other, with the
first lines of each all resting on the same baseline. The leading measures of the various
styles must be made to share a numeric relationship: Increase and/or decrease the
individual leading measures of each text style until all of the measures are divisble by the
same number. Among the set of specimens above, all the leading measures are multiples of
6, a relatively large number.
—
In comparing specimens, one will notice that the text of some or all of the styles share both
the top baseline and another at particular intervals.
One of these intervals is likely to be a good choice for the row depth—probably the one at
which the majority of the baselines meet up. It’s alright if not every style’s baselines meet at
this interval; the odd ones out will still show baseline alignment with the others in various
instances, just not as consistently.
—
A measure for the row gutter is typically based on the running text’s leading, but it may just
as easily be some other increment that is a multiple of the common leading number. The last
step is to fit a useful number of rows from top to bottom of the page; the remaining spaces
above and below the row set become the head margin and foot margin.
The geometric simplicity of rectilinear images (or graphical planes) offers the easiest way to
first understand how a grid manages visual material within its structure. All the instances
shown above are possible—and more. The basic rule to follow is this: The edges of images
align with the edges of columns, le to right, and they align with the edges of rows, top to
bottom. It’s okay for images to overlap each other, and to bleed off the page (even across
the page gutter)—so long as they adhere to the column and row alignments whenever they
fall within the body of the structure. A common error is to allow an image’s edges to fall
somewhere in the middle of a column or row. Sometimes it looks better that way. Fine, then
—add more columns or rows so that a propor- tional alignment option becomes available as
part of the structure.
Similar to the way images should correspond to a grid’s alignment guides, so too should text
—regardless whether it is a headline, a deck, running text, a callout, or caption. Text set
flush le should have its aligned edge positioned along the le edge of a column; the right-
hand edge of its bounding box should butt up against the right-hand edge of a column.
Column gutters and row gutters exist to keep text separate when being articulated side by
side (unless, of course, the text is purposely being made to cross from a column originating
within a negative space over a column into an area occupied by an image). A single
paragraph or column of text always begins from the top edge guideline of a row—or “hangs”
from it—but it may similarly cross through a lower row, or even end in the middle of a row.
Text is organic: when it runs out, it runs out.
In a column grid without flowlines to constrain them, images may be of any depth and slide
up and down the columns without aligning horizontally at any point.
As soon as flowlines are introduced, one must assume there’s a need to create horizontal
alignments—in which case, images can hang from them, dropping to whatever depth; sit on
them; or be proportioned by the distance between them (if there are more than one).
Always keep in mind that images can cross from one column (or row) to another—and that
means they can overlap each other at different sizes, in different proportions, and so on.
Silhouetted images and those cropped into irregular shapes are perfectly fine, but the
designer must ensure that they “feel” as though they’re aligned with guides or that they’re
proportionally related to grid widths and depths—which means “eyeballing” them until
they look right.
Ragged text creates a so , irregular edge that won’t quite fill out columns. The irregularity
of the rag’s shape becomes more pronounced at larger text sizes (for instance, in a headline
or title. It’s okay: a well-placed element will help optically “mark” or “complete” the right
edge of the column.
Bullets are best set to “hang” to the le of a column alignment, as are quotation marks
when they occur at the beginning of a line of text. Not doing so disrupts the clarity of the
aligned edge; in short, it looks sloppy.
Images that fill an entire page or spread from edge to edge can be made to relate to the
underlying grid through careful sizing and cropping—so that key visual features align with a
column or row guide, or refer to widths or depths evident in adjacent elements.
Textual inclusions—such as initial caps and callouts that invade the regular text structure—
should correspond to grid increments or very clearly not conform to them.
If a column of text is crossing over several rows, and there are paragraph breaks within it,
they need not fall at a row guideline. Causing them to do so is a possibility, but it results in
awkward separations within the column and an overly self-conscious quality to the layout’s
typography.
Text, of course, can be set on top of an image (so long as there’s enough contrast between
their relative values for the text to be legible). In such cases, the text’s visual qualities must
play off those of the image while it’s still following the structure underneath.
Setting text centered-axis o en results in the text appearing unrelated to column
alignments. The closer the overall width of such a text element to a recognizable column
width, the better; aligning its central axis to a clearly demarcated column edge guide can
only help it appear well integrated.
Hanging indents (sometimes referred to as “outdents”) are a distinctive typographic
gesture that require wider column gutters, or careful positioning in a column far away from
the one that precedes it.
Arrangement Logic The spatial proportions and intervals in a grid define a
unifying plan structure, but the behavior of material across that structure is
what defines a specific layout rhythm, or logic, for a project. A single grid
can be used to articulate material in an endless number of ways; and every
kind of rhythm expresses a feeling or idea, from austerely geometric to
wildly organic. Changing how material relates to its underlying grid from
section to section can be a fun way to distinguish different informational
areas. The designer, however, must carefully consider the rhythm of that
change. Some regularity must clearly tie together alternations in logic to be
meaningful; otherwise, the audience simply recognizes the change but not
its significance. When columns shift up and down past one another (or hang
from a single point and drop to different depths), consider the relationship
between lines of text across the gutter separating the columns: adjust the
text’s leading measure and/or how paragraphs are separated to ensure that
the text’s baselines clearly align from column to column; or, alternatively,
that they purposely do not.

Columns justified to the head and foot margins (A), or to a specific module depth (B), create
a rigidly geometric band of text. Hanging columns (C) provide a measure of consistency,
balanced by their changing depth. Columns that change hangline (D) and depth (E) offer the
most organic and flexible option for arranging text, especially in terms of integrating
images. The differences in interval between column beginnings and endings must be
decisive and considered for their rhythm.
Both of these publications follow a hanging column approach that divides their layouts
along a mid-format flowline, top to bottom. In the foldout brochure, that horizon dominates
because more material (both type and image rectangles) are situated along it, creating a
sensation that elements are flipping above and below that line. In the page spread to the
right, the two major hanglines are more pronounced, as is the quality of the material
hanging—mostly because there’s openness in the middle area. The names and headings that
accompany the images are allowed to violate the column structure.
CLEMENS THÉOBERT SCHEDLER / AUSTRIA ↑
VON-K (JULIA KLINGER) / GERMANY ↓
Variation and Violation A grid is truly successful only if a designer rises
above its implied uniformity and generates interest page after page. The
greatest danger in using a grid is to succumb to its regularity. Grids don’t
make dull layouts; designers do. Once a grid is in place, sort all the
project’s material part by part, and then test layout variations. How might
elements interact with the grid differently from page to page, and yet still
adhere to a recognizable rhythm? Very often, how different kinds of content
(narrative images, infographics, and so on) will best be displayed answers
these questions, automatically creating interesting variations. But violating
a grid is an unavoidable necessity: sometimes because a bit of content won’t
quite fit; or because it’s visually necessary to radically emphasize
something; or, just to fight monotony. Violations must be relatively
infrequent or relatively small or they begin to undermine the reader’s sense
of the grid’s consistency. Any specific item or general layout that violates
the grid will be very dramatic. Not only will it be instantly noticeable, but it
also will become hierarchically most important (which may be good or
bad).

A simple trick to achieving layout variation is to alternately cluster images toward the top or
bottom from spread to spread, or to force a small, medium, and large image onto a spread—
and then use the same sizes, but placed in different locations, on the next spread (A, B).
Occasionally ignoring a rigorous grid has a dramatic effect on pacing and hierarchy. In this
study (C, D), just such an instance stands out among a series of layouts that are heavily
structured. The resulting surprise breathes life into the sequence and highlights featured
content. Designing a two-page spread that ignores the grid established for the remaining
pages of a publication ensures that spread will be memorable. The problem then facing the
designer is that of integrating the layout so that it clearly belongs to the same publication.
Using typefaces and colors that are used elsewhere will do so, but these alone will not be
enough. The designer must create some reference to the established structure even as he or
she violates it—perhaps a typographic element from the previous spread continues onto the
unique spread. In addition, the designer must consider the transition back into the grid-
structured pages following the violation; if the pages following this particular spread are a
continuation of its content, the designer might add smaller violating elements that recall
the major violation while restating the regular structure.
In the brochure spreads above, a great number of columns means that margin, image, and
text proportions can shi around dramatically from page to page, but the proportions of the
negative spaces and content objects remain unified in feeling. Images in the publication
below continually change size and shi position from spread to spread; graphical lines
circulate around the margins, responding to the column gutters but changing color on a
regular basis.
PEOPLE DESIGN / UNITED STATES ↑
MARIELLE VAN GENDEREN+ADRIANN MELLEGERS / NETHERLANDS ↓
Grids in Adaptable Environments In establishing a grid structure for an
interactive experience, all the same considerations and methods under
discussion still apply—except that designers must anticipate how a layout
will adjust when a user closes down a browser or how it will translate from
a large-size format to a small one. The limited screen area of a smartphone
is an unavoidable physical reality. However, any perceived restriction there,
with regard to type or image sizes, is made up for by its particular width,
which will accommodate a range of legible type sizes with generally
optimal attributes. Using the smartphone screen format to define a column
structure, then, is almost a no-brainer. Its “ready-made” column width
presents an opportunity to problem solve: Whatever column structure might
be desirable in a large-format screen environment can easily grow from the
single-column measure of the smartphone. Working from small screen to
large, developing a grid is a matter of arranging columns of the smartphone
width side-by-side to fill the increasing screen area. The base column can
be subdivided for greater flexibility and layout variation.
This diagram describes the part-to-whole relationship that can be achieved between
smallest and largest screen formats by using the smartphone screen proportion as a base
column. Even if that column is subsequently subdivided, the grid will maintain a consistent
proportion among all formats and enforce visual continuity throughout. A typical
smartphone is shown at actual size to the right.
Using default template structures or themes potentially creates two kinds of structural
conflict: First, between symmetry and asymmetry, which typically manifests itself in
misalignments between navigational and content elements, especially when the browser
resizes; and second, between different uses of space, which is problematic if specific layout
gestures are intrinsic to a brand’s visual identity or behavior. Both kinds of conflict appear
in the top examples, but are resolved in the lower examples.
In both of these websites, which are shown in device-responsive formats, the base phone-
width column structure is clearly visible in the proportions of the spatial breaks within the
layouts—and, in the page design above, it’s explicitly marked by delicate, graphical lines.
By following this strategy, the two sites not only present an overall similar experience of
size among elements from device to device, but the visual language is compositionally and
rhythmically unified to a much greater degree.
DIANO & CO. / SLOVENIA ↑
ESTUDIO PÁNICO / ECUADOR ↓
 INTUITIVE ARRANGEMENT

By Eye and On the Fly Using grids has become part of the status quo of
designing; but, visual organization is itself a message, and that message
may often mean throwing out the grid. Sometimes, content has an internal
structure that a grid won’t necessarily clarify, or it needs a more organic one
to create specific emotional reactions; and sometimes, a designer prefers
working intuitively—that is, by eye. Far from being random, this
compositional method is simply responds to the content’s formal aspects:
seeing visual relationships and contrasts within the material and exploiting
them to make necessary connections for the viewer. Designers often will
use this method as a step toward building a grid, but it’s just as valid an
approach on its own. In essence, it means working like a painter does:
pushing text and images around, fast and loose, analyzing what conditions
arise, and then making adjustments in whatever way is most appropriate for
the communication. The method’s inherent liveliness has an affinity with
collage; its sense of immediacy and directness can be very inviting,
providing viewers with an accessible, gratifying experience.
The material in all these projects—posters, an animation, and a book design among them—
is layed out spontaneously, allowing each element to respond to the others. The projects on
the following page show greater attention to geometric relationships than do the poster and
motion sequence on this page, but they’re otherwise free-form compositions.

Above
WEDGE / CANADA ↑
DAEUN KO / UNITED STATES ↑
Above: Column 01
TOORMIX / SPAIN ↑
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES ↑
Above: Column 02
OHYESCOOLGREAT / NETHERLANDS ↑
VIKTOR MATIC / ITALY ↑
Deconstruction Another way of composing material is to deconstruct
(meaning to “disassemble” or “reassemble”) a conventional grid. Once
defined, a structure can be altered in any number of ways: “cutting apart”
major zones and shifting, rotating, or rescaling them. It’s important to watch
what happens when content that would normally appear in an expected
place (marking a structural juncture in the grid) appears elsewhere, perhaps
aligned with some other kind of information in a way that didn’t exist
before. The shifted information might end up behind or on top of some
other information if a change in size or density accompanies the shift in
placement. A conventional grid repeated in different orientations, as well as
overlapping grids with modules of different proportions (or that run at
different angles in relation to each other), will introduce a certain order to
the spatial ambiguity that such layering creates, especially if some elements
are oriented on both layers simultaneously. The resulting optical confusion
presents challenges to resolve in terms of hierarchy, but will inevitably
create a surreal, dynamic architectural space.
Shi ing or breaking apart grid modules or columns so that they begin to overlap, even while
they carry sequential information (like running text), creates a perception of layers within
the compositional space. The textures of different columns interacting as they run over each
other establishes a perception of transparency in which text, or other elements, appear to
float in front of each other. Shown here are a few of the nearly unlimited possibilities for
deconstructing a grid, and how text and image elements might respond to them.
Slight overlaps in columns, changing column widths, and column rotation create movement
and geometric spaces reminiscent of the design work and historical context of the poster’s
subject without copying his style or showing any of his own projects.
LEONARDO SONNOLI / ITALY
Shi ing columns and exaggerated textural qualities harmonize the type with the images.
HYOSOOK KANG / UNITED STATES
In a remarkably funny twist, typographic elements are deconstructed off the grid of the
walls in hotel rooms to create an amusing spatial environment for guests.
E-TYPES / DENMARK
Pictorial and Conceptual Synergies Further options for creating
interesting layouts include translating pictorial or conceptual ideas into a
means of shaping or styling text. The approach can refer to observable
experience, like waves on the surface of water, or it can be based on a
concept, like a map or other kind of diagram. Whatever the source of the
idea, the designer can organize material to refer to it. For example, text and
images might appear to sink or float around like objects caught in a flood.
These might be called allusive structures. In projects of a sequential nature,
like books or walls in an exhibit, visual elements relate to each other in
time, as though in frames of a film. Images might move across a format or
otherwise be changed from page to page, affecting other images or text that
appear later. A simple example of this visual kinesis might be a sequence of
pages where text appears to advance forward in space because its scale
increases every time a page is turned. Using sensory experiences of space
and time as organizing principles can be conceptually and emotionally
powerful.
The designer of these seasonal calendar panels expresses the feeling and energy of each
season through abstract images. The typography responds not just formally but
conceptually, alluding in different instances to falling rain, leaves, and snow.
HAE JIN LEE / UNITED STATES
In this poster, the primary type is pictorialized to represent a fish. Even the small,
informational text near the lower-right edge of the format plays into this strategy—spaced
rhythmically to suggest the flow of water, despite the poster’s format being vertical.
MANUEL ESTRADA / SPAIN
Little explanation is needed to clarify the image that is being created by the configuration of
justified text blocks in this foldout brochure.
LSD SPACE / SPAIN
Veils of colored texture and transparent type—running in two directions—evoke the veil of
Arabic culture and reference that language’s reading direction in contrast to that of Western
reading.
LEONARDO SONNOLI / ITALY
This poster alludes—almost literally—to the folding of the sheet on which it is printed,
bringing up the question of whether the poster’s “face” has value. The planar shapes and
irregular diagonal axes provide interesting results for the positioning of text elements.
OHYESCOOLGREAT / NETHERLANDS
 DESIGN AS A SYSTEM

Why “System” Most designed works are systematic: they often consist of
several parts, sometimes each with different content and functions that must
recognizably interrelate. Consider a website, presenting more general and
more granular content distibuted among its pages. Print publications are
produced serially or sequentially (a family of related items produced all
together, or individual items produced at different times, such as a series of
brochures). Advertising campaigns, too: a single format might appear in
sequential issues of a magazine; or, ads in a campaign might appear
simultaneously in multiple publications, but in different formats (double-
page spread, half-page vertical, and so on). Environmental design work
integrates information and visual experience among multiple spaces, like
the exterior and entry lobby of a building, a set of exhibit spaces, or public
areas such as shopping centers or mass transit stations. Even a single-
format, one-off piece, like a poster, must likely incorporate some aspects of
an existing brand. A visual system is a language set of rules that flex to
integrate such required differences and still unify the whole.
In the website, a four-column grid anticipates different conditions that might arise for
content, whether there may be a single image with complex text support or mutliple images
in a gallery formation. Text is styled consistently with respect to its hierarchic function.
STUDIO DIEGO FEIJOO / SPAIN
Within branding programs, logos must o en be designed as systems themselves so they can
adjust to changing contexts and retain their identifying characteristics. The logo shown
here always retains its primary symbol form, but its wordmark component changes
structure to accommodate subsidiary names (top). The logo also flexes for display in
differently sized environments (bottom).
ISOMETRIC DESIGN / UNITED STATES
Although the typography throughout this identity program is rigidly styled on a consistent
grid, the designer has introduced flexibility in form at every level: variations in the visual
shape of the logotype lockup; a series of abstract linear illustrations that can be used in a
number of ways; and a strong color palette of analogous hues with varying levels of
intensity.
CLEMENS THÉOBERT SCHEDLER / AUSTRIA
This extensive array of communications in different media and formats is unified not only
through the prominent use of a specific orange hue and a corporate brand mark (logo) but
through consistent application of arcing lines, colored dots, a sans-serif font family, certain
kinds of image cropping, and compositional structures—all hallmarks of an integrated
visual language.
VBAT / NETHERLANDS
Parts and Part-to-Whole Before any visual work begins, designers must
understand the scope of the system to be created: what kinds of components
it comprises (website, printed literature, signage); their respective formats
and limitations; how much material each one must deliver; and the different
kinds of information (verbal and visual) that must be accounted for (and in
what combinations). Further, one must define how and when the system’s
audience will encounter its parts and how they will use them. A system’s
form language grows from factual necessities, rather than forcing stuff into
a preconceived visual idea; and one critical fact is that the system likely
must integrate materials that are unanticipated at a project’s outset.
Elements of different kinds within a single component will relate to each
other in specific ways, and each component, to the others. The functional
interplay of a system’s parts defines what must happen; the designer’s
imagination determines how that interplay can happen. Analysis aside,
designers are visual thinkers; one’s imagination should naturally play a role
in envisioning how best to visually express a system’s functional
requirements.
When weighing format size, shape, and other such physical factors against the requirements
imposed by content, look for best- and worst-case scenarios (by page, spread, or section) by
which to judge: compare the smallest amount of something to the largest, or the most
simple combination of content elements to the most complex.
Creating a matrix (like the one shown here) to map extensive content can be an especially
helpful reference—for planning page count, website wireframes, and even for project
proposal budgeting purposes. For multi-part projects, especially ones with different kinds of
touchpoint, or delivery medium, repeating the matrix study for each and comparing them is
an excellent means of finding synergies between them that can help understand how the
system will need to work.
The components of this exhibit installation show a highly repeatable layout structure that
nonetheless integrates content of many different kinds, each of different volume—the result
of the designers understanding the characteristics of the project’s content in great depth.
POULIN+MORRIS / UNITED STATES
Recognizing that every level of information to be presented in a project may require specific
structural attributes (because of its depth, complexity, or particular functionality) is the
first step in creating a comprehensive grid that will enfold all of those attributes.
Diagrammed at le are major functional components associated with print (top) and UX
design (bottom), with each coded to its relative level of complexity by depth of color.
The pages of this website address changing content conditions by reproportioning content of
specific kinds, based on a modular grid. The changes in layout structure and number or size
of images becomes a feature of a particular level of content that the viewer comes to
recognize over time—much like appreciating a visual distinction between a book chapter’s
opening spread and the text spread that might follow it.
ESIETE / SPAIN
Ordering and Sequencing After defining a project’s parts, one must figure
out what goes where, and how it should be arranged informationally or
experientially. A client might supply content in a particular order, but the
designer really has to understand it and, potentially, reorder it to improve its
clarity or enhance its conceptual aspects. Further, the content may not be
presented all at one time, in one place, or all in the same format. A branding
program, for example, is a system whose content is distributed among a
multitude of items (stationery, website, brochures, environmental signage,
and vehicle livery, each with unique requirements). Some components have
obvious roles; and, again, a client may impose ordering criteria for certain
ones. Content organization often derives from conventions: for example,
that content found in the upper levels of a website will be more general,
then more specific at deeper ones. Conventions also abound for printed
publications, where one also assumes a certain kind of sequence. Still, most
content can be ordered in different ways, and it’s for the designer (in
dialogue with the client) to conceive of what’s most effective.
BY KIND

Content ordered by differences in meaning

BY SPECIFICITY
Content categorized from more general to more detailed

BY COMPLEXITY

Content ordered sequentially from least complex to most complex

NARRATIVELY

Content ordered in terms of time sequence, historical context, or as steps in a process or

story

BY RELEVANCE
Content ordered according to which information is most important

Full-bleed photographs of a gallery environment lead viewers experientially through an

exhibit, moving them from room to room and then close-up to artwork on individual walls.
Content traveling horizontally through a spatial zone at the bottoms of the pages provides
commentary and supporting photographic images.
COMA / NETHERLANDS
Within a self-contained project, such as a book or, here, a website (shown as schematic
wireframe diagrams) content is sorted among pages: how much, and what, on each. On each
page, the volume of material changes, and the hierarchic relationship between the parts
also may change—or they may remain the same. The content, even yet so raw, begins to
direct the designer’s decisions as to the sizes and positions of the elements. The distribution
of content from page to page has significance for the website’s users: how to identify
navigation versus content, to begin with, as well as which content is hierarchically related
and which is not.
On a single page of the site (the home page, in this case) sorting the same content in
different ways might call attention to specific parts over others and thereby affect the
emphasis of these specific parts. Convention generally dictates that material that comes
first should be assumed to have greater significance. Adjusting the order to create a
narrative flow that enhances focus on specific content changes the experience.
The design of this mobile app takes advantage of its specific height to create a module that
groups major information levels concisely—and the ability to scroll vertically, or swipe
horizontally, to create a specific sequence in which users will access information. Vertical
scrolling provides overview information, presented in four levels within a given module
about a subject; swiping le or right reveals more specific, or expanded, information about
the subject in that module.
ORDER / UNITED STATES
Pacing Ordering accounts for the locations, groupings, and actual sequence
of a project’s content (see the previous page). Pacing concerns how
incrementally or abruptly, how subtly or dramatically, such content changes
in its visual qualities from one part of the project to the next. Ordering is
about function; pacing is about feeling. By creating a clear cadence (or
“timing”) among visual variations that viewers will encounter—from long
and drawn out to sudden, or from quiet to dynamic—the designer can
accomplish several goals. First, and perhaps most importantly, the designer
can cue the viewer to changes in the content’s meaning and, so, clarify how
different groupings of content relate to each other. Changes in pacing also
prevent monotony (and, especially with regard to extensive material)
reengage viewers at each stage of their experience. One can establish
pacing in a discontinuous or multipart system (like the touchpoints of a
brand, encountered at different times) by varying each component’s
complexity and use of form relative to the order in which viewers will
likely interact with them: from ad to website to retail location to product
package, for example.
Abstractly representing different states of visual activity in a simplified form gives the
designer a means of rapidly testing alternative approaches to a pacing strategy. For a
hypothetical sequence of page spreads, a designer has first defined a category of change—
that of value, relative to spatial break—and several possible variations, arranged from
darkest to lightest, overall, and labeled accordingly.
As a second step, the designer explores different sequences of these basic variations: cycling
through them in order, reversing that order, alternating between two or three, repeating
some and not others, and so on.
—
The labels help the designer identify the nature of the rhythm in a method that is common
to musical composers: A B C D, for example, or A B A C A D.
Repeating a state (A B B B C D) slows the pacing in some areas, while rapid changes from
state to state speed it up.
Following this study, the designer will compare the visual rhythms to the project’s actual
distribution of content and, in consideration of its effect on hierarchy, choose a pacing
strategy to pursue, or continue looking for other strategies that more closely correspond
with the content’s hierarchic requirements, if it appears necessary to do so.
In the context of a scrolling web page—where a grid’s compositional field is contiguous—the
notion of pacing focuses on lateral positioning of elements, in concert with changes in the
depths and widths of masses.
The designer of this book focused on value progressions as a way to create distinction
between, and flow within, various sections. The thumbnail overview of all the book’s
spreads (below) shows a pronounced cadence of dark-to-light change from beginning to end
—in the first section versus the remainder, and within each section.
L2M3 / GERMANY
A er the film’s conceptual slogan is introduced through a rapid, jarring series of
transitions, the majority of this opening title sequence builds suspense through a slower
pacing strategy. Production credits are introduced by sliding them laterally across the
screen while they dissolve in and out of view, and the background texture begins slowly to
morph in a reference to a character’s alien transformation. In a startling shi , the pattern
rapidly distorts and the film’s title emerges from deep space to explode out of the frame. The
pacing in the sequence mirrors that of the film’s events.
KIYOTAKA SUMIOSHI / UNITED STATES
This film title sequence presents a minimalist, abstract view of white dominos that evoke a
notable scene. Etxroardinarily slow, stately pacing through different panning shots suggests
the film’s themes of solitude, pain, and self exploration.
JOHN LIKENS / UNITED STATES
This website moves the user from expansive, environmental imagery that bleeds the screen’s
format, through increasingly reduced, more analytically cropped detail images.
ESIETE / SPAIN
The idea of pacing is typically related to single sequences, but it can also apply to multipart
or nonlinear narratives—like brands. In this sense, pacing becomes about how the visual
langauge refreshes or restates itself each time a viewer encounters a different component of
it, so as to maintain continuity but fight monotony, as this brand successfully does.
DESIGN RANCH / UNITED STATES
This book design creates a recognizable rhythm in the way its page spreads alternate
between particular structures: full-bleed imagery; full-bleed text; chapter title with inset
block; and occasional irregularly organized pages for punctuation. At first glance, each
kind of spread appears very different from the others—but similarities in the relative sizes
and positions of certain elements, as well as rhythmic gestures, reveal themselves upon
closer inspection.
ESTUDIO PÁNICO / ECUADOR
Function into Form As the realities of a project’s content reveal
possibilities and limitations for how its material can be delivered, the
designer now must contemplate the visual language that will best achieve
his or her communicative goals. What kinds of form and imagery will do
the job? How do different semiotic and compositional strategies address
(and enhance!) necessities of ordering and part-to-whole relationships?
How must images conceptually connect with text—and what might that
mean for type hierarchy, layout structure and style? These questions all
have to do with what information is expository (literally needed for
understanding: “These are some available health care services”) as well as
what narrative, if any, will frame the information (“These health care
services provide peace of mind”). From the expository standpoint, if the
designer sees that every part of a project involves three kinds of text, but
requires few images, he or she then knows that typography will be a more
pronounced component of the system: it may likely require several
columns, multiple font styles, and more active use of space (when, for
example, no image is present).
Every part of this system performs the same function and presents the same volumes and
kinds of information. Its primary goal is to deliver a consistent (branded) experience. A
language of painterly marks, in a fresh, cool palette, creates a changing backdrop for
centered text, set all caps in a sans serif and foil stamped in gold.
ANAGRAMA / MEXICO
In this packaging, the same kinds of text elements are listed top to bottom, in the same order
and treatment; an inset photograph accompanies the text and may be positioned below it—
or, if the available space demands, embedded within the text’s justified area. Limited color
changes in the typography are a restrained variation.
P&W DESIGN CONSULTANTS / UNITED KINGDOM
From the narrative standpoint, a designer’s visualization of subject matter
may offer a direction: If the subject is life sciences, for example, the
designer may use dots to suggest molecules and cells, crop images into
circular forms, and then choose a font with ball serifs. If a logo is part of the
system (as it often is), its own visual language may shape that of the system
(a linear logo may suggest that lines and certain type arrangements be used
throughout). Finding the most effective form language involves analytical
and intuitive study of the content: freely messing around to see what’s
possible, evaluating the results, resolving problems, and returning yet again
to freer exploration. The designer’s conclusions define the basic
characteristics of the system: this kind of image, that medium, these kinds
of shapes, this color palette, that font family, this sort of layout structure.
Together, these characteristics embody not only the system’s “look and
feel,” but how its particular parts work in specific, repeatable ways to
accommodate and corroborate each other—as consistently as can be. All
form communicates; in a system, form becomes a set of unifying “rules.”

The graphical divisions of space and the overall language of geometric elements in this book
act as a system that grows from the function of each kind of spread: (A) section
introduction; (B) subsection introduction; (C) subsection discussion; (D) visual examples
introduction; (E) visual example discussion.
TIMOTHY SAMARA / UNITED STATES
The need for unified, responsive formatting and the nostalgic ticket-tab metaphor combine
to create a modular, branded online experience across devices.
SELF-TITLED / AUSTRALIA
Rules and Variables Overall visual consistency is generally important for
creating cohesion, a sense of totality or integration, among a system’s parts
(in branding, it builds memorability through repeated recognition). That
said, if every part is too visually similar, viewers will quickly get bored or,
worse, gloss over new material because they think they’re seeing the same
stuff again. On a functional level, “rules” that are too rigid may interfere
with presenting material in whatever way is most effective—and that means
either doing a disservice to the content by forcing it to fit a prescribed form;
or violating the rules to do what’s best and, thereby, disrupting the system’s
continuity. Making sure a system’s visual language can “flex” is therefore
critical. Consequently, so is a designer’s intimate understanding of the
inherent qualities of the visual language’s syntax and grammar, and how
these may be varied or rigidly enforced. Lines may vary in their relative
lengths and weights, and they may be solid or broken; they may run in
parallel or divergent directions. If material is organized in diagonal
configurations, the fact of diagonality can be a consistent rule; but perhaps
the angle of orientation can change (30°, 45°, 65°), and the angle may
further rise from lower left to upper right within a format, or vice versa. Or,
it may be that each kind of informational text element is set in a particular
font, but the relative size of each kind of text element can be changed—so
long as the most important one is always the largest, regardless of their
actual point sizes. This range of possible logic in how a system’s rules and
their variables may be expressed means that any system can be extremely
programmatic, or templated, overall (very few, very specific rules, very
consistently applied); and, alternatively, it may be remarkably organic
(more rules, each applied with greater possible variation)—and still be a
system. A system may even incorporate randomness: properly controlled
(and here, we’re getting a little Zen), the very presence of randomness can
become appreciated as rule unto itself. The greater the variability in a
system (more rules, more variations on each rule), the greater the risk it will
fall apart—challenging viewers to appreciate their experience as a
recognizable, overarching visual idea.
The rules that a designer defines for the syntax and grammar of a system’s visual language
can be quite simple. Simplicity is considered desirable to ensure easy application to new
communications that arise, as well as for consistency among that that will be recognized by
an audience. Simple rules can result in a simple expression or one that appears very
complex. The system that governs the layouts of the posters, above, calls for a
straightforward alternation in the position of the field with the logo (top or bottom), and a
reversal of position between logo and exhibition title. In contrast, the system below is based
on a grid of dots that define the relative positions of all elements, but their sizes and
interaction are permitted wider variation—which makes the system appear more complex
than it really is.
MOLTOBUREAU / GERMANY ↑
THINKMOTO / GERMANY ↓
Logos used to be considered unalterable but, in recent years, that thinking has changed;
many are now designed to be variable. For such a logo to consistently identify its brand, its
formal variables must be specific and limited. Within the parameters of very narrowly
defined rules, however, a variable logo may still achieve a remarkable degree of flexibility—
as the logos shown here reveal. Analyze each for yourself: What are the particular formal
aspects that act as the rules it follows? What are the specific variations within each rule that
allows the logo to change as it does?

Le to right, top to bottom

GARBETT / AUSTRALIA
MUCHO / SPAIN
MAKEBARDO / NEW ZEALAND
LUMINOUS DESIGN GROUP / GREECE
FIASCO DESIGN / UNITED KINGDOM
VBAT / NETHERLANDS

Although there are other characteristics at play in these systems, their typography is the
dominant characteristic of their respective visual languages. In the brand materials for a
theater complex, just above, the individual theaters are each characterized by a numeral set
in a particular type style, and these are joined by a serif and a sans-serif family, each used
for only specific kinds of information. All the typography is arranged in relation to a line
that expresses a diagonal axis. For the backlit, cube kiosk outside an orchestra’s
performance hall (below), type is set in three faces and arranged around a single vertical
axis. The system further below derives a set of shapes from the architecture of the university
it brands to generate a custom face. A “type generator” allows the designer to modify the
way those shapes form individual letters of different style, and the order in which the varied
styles are sequenced as they appear in a line of text.
TOORMIX / SPAIN ↑
PAONE DESIGN ASSOCS. / UNITED STATES ↓
FOR THE PEOPLE / AUSTRALIA ↓
These two poster series point up the extremes to which a system may gravitate on the
spectrum between near-absolute consistency and near-random organicism. The
characteristics of the series just below fall toward the programmatic, or rigid, end of the
spectrum. The sizes and positions of all the elements are fixed; only the specific style of
picture frame that’s featured, and the coloration of that image and the word “beyond,”
change from poster to poster. And yet, that limited degree of variation is sufficient to create
dynamic, visual renewal of the language in each instance. The series of posters promoting a
city’s cultural festival (bottom) exists at the other end of the continuum, showing
tremendous formal variety: in the sizes of elements, axis relationships, color distribution,
overall composition, and mix of typefaces. And yet, there is no question that these three
posters are part of a family: The same kinds of hand-drawn, iconic elements, colors, and
typefaces appear; the negative space is almost consumed by elements; and there is generally
a similar hierarchic distribution of headline and support material. Because these formal
qualities are so powerfully evident, the designer is able to introduce endless variation
without sacrificing unity.
MARTA GAWIN / POLAND ↑
NATASHA JIWA / UNITED STATES ↓
The selected systems on the following pages—all relatively extensive branding programs—
express their visual languages in varying degrees of rigidity and organicism. Some follow
only a few rules (one kind of form, only two colors, one font), while others incorporate
multliple rules for different kinds of material, each permitting further variation.
—
A small, graduated diagram accompanies each project to show where its system resides on
the spectrum of expression between these noted extremes—along with a brief list of its
rules and variables, categorized by formal characteristic.
Form The identities and behavioral characterstics of the system’s visual syntax

Color The system’s chromatic palette and the relationships among its hues

Typography The number and style(s) of typefaces used in the system, along with alignment logic
and any treatments

Imagery The pictorial or nonpictorial nature of subject depiction, as well as media and
presentation

Layout The structural and rhythmic characteristics of the system’s organization

Design festival brand identity
INFINITO / PERU

Form Parallel and concentric lines patterns / Rectangular, triangular, and semicircular
planes

Color Two pairs of analogous hues (cool and warm) / Strong saturation

Typography One sans-serif face in its bold weight / Size change only / Rectangular box
highlighting

Imagery Silhouetted art objects of cultural significance / Duotoned photography

Composition Grid-based column structures / Vertical emphasis with module-based

horizontal divisions
Identity and responsive web design promoting a municipality’s public
artworks
ASCEND STUDIO / UNITED KINGDOM

Form Squares / Horizontally proportioned rectangles / Lines in horizontal, parallel

formations, as well as 90° axis formations

Color Two cool, analogous hues, plus black and two values of gray

Typography One sans-serif family using two weights / Brand, headings, and navigation set
uppercase with tight spacing / Labeling and text set upper- and lowercase

Imagery Full-color photography / Art subjects / Gallery scenes

Composition Asymmetrical type configurations / Corner formations for brand name initials
Brand identity for an industrial site redeveloped as a public space for
work and culture
BRAND BROTHERS / FRANCE

Form Rectangular planes cut by angled ones / Crops of logo form (house shaped, linear) /
Horizontal lines, in two weights, running parallel (web, text dividers)

Color Six hues (three cool, three warm) plus black / Integration of analogous pairs and a
triad (green/orange/red-violet) / Strong saturation

Typography Custom logotype: unicase, angular deformations / One sans-serif family /

Uniform stroke weight, angular deformations in some curved forms details / Size change /
Asymmetrical setting

Imagery Pictorial / Documentary photography / Black hal ones overprinting solid fields /
Full-color photography used online / Pixel-stylized icons (exterior mural)

Composition Primarily grid-based / Interruptions of orthogonal grid with angled planes /

Overlaps of imagery with geometric elements (type, logo)
Branding and packaging for a restaurant featuring Egyptian street food
& WASLH (AND THE ZOOBA TEAM) / UNITED STATES

Form Rectangles / Geometric, linear borders / Dot, angle details / Nonpictorial ornaments

Color Five hues / Primaries (one tinted), one secondary, plus black / Strong saturation / Solid
fields

Typography Custom wordmark (unicase, sans serif, extended) / One neutral, sans serif (bold
weight) / Symmetrical setting (headlines), asymmetrical setting (text) / Underscoring details

Imagery Reductive icons (border embellishments) / Full-color photographs (food images),

silhouetted / Arabic calligraphy as image

Composition Centered axis / Shallow or flat illusory space / Divisions of space into shallow
horizontal bands and deep (sometimes square) rectilinear areas
Branded identity materials for a consulting firm
SEA / UNITED KINGDOM

Form Squares / Irregular, organic forms made of linear pattern and continuous tone

Color Four hues (two warm and analogous; two neutrals [one warm, one cool])

Typography One modern serif / High contrast / Two weights / Typically two sizes only, with
minor deviation

Imagery Nonpictorial / Organic / Flexing and weaving / Transparent / Asymmetrical text

setting

Composition Free-form, intuitive, asymmetrical (nonpictorial form) / Symmetrical format

divisions (squares, type) with minor deviations
Branding system, including print and environmental applications, for a commuter railroad
system
STUDIO MARVIL / CZECH REPUBLIC

Form Letter-based logo (zig-zag structure) / Lines / Multiple weights / Parallel direction /
Even, patterned intervals

Color Three hues / Two-to-one complement (orange and two blues, one cool, one warm)

Typography One sans-serif face / Typically set one weight (two weights in text) / Set
asymmetrically / Uppercase for logotype, headings / Lowercase for text

Imagery Nonpictorial / Linear patterning / Full-color, pictorial photography / Journalistic

(limited use)

Composition Asymmetrical / Hierarchic grid

 THE WORKING PROCESS

Phases and Tasks Every designer works differently, and every project is
unique. Still, many designers follow a staged process learned from early
formal training, even if they are very experienced: researching, and then
brainstorming as many different ideas as possible; comparing these to find
what is useful, and which, if any, may be combined to mutually enhance
each other; focusing on the result of this comparison to construct the
necessary parts of the project, refining them at increasingly detailed levels;
and last, figuring out how to fabricate or otherwise produce the project at a
high level of quality and (in most cases) as economically as possible. To
craft a visual language that communicates an idea in all its richness, a
designer must first fully understand that idea—and that means research.
There are many ways to research material: Reading about it online or in
printed resources, or viewing documentaries about the subject; comparing
existing projects of a similar nature; making brainstorming lists and
mindmaps; conducting interviews with stakeholders; collecting images or
objects by association; and simply sketching intuitively.
RESEARCH AND STRATEGY

The designer or studio engages in an audit of competitors’ materials to determine how best
to position the project’s communication, relative to the client’s stated goals. The audit
considers existing visual languages, as well as the audience’s cultural expectations, to form
a framework for determining what approaches may be useful to consider. Based on their
findings and, in conjunction with more conventional library and online research,
mindmapping, collection of marketing data, testing with focus groups, buidling mood
boards, and so on—the designer or studio will formulate a written strategy, or creative brief,
that outlines their intended creative process for the client.

Competitive Audit
Conceptual Research
Data Collection
Audience/Cultural Analysis
Cocreation/Focus Testing
Marketing Research
Brainstorming and Mindmapping
Mood Boards
Formulation of Strategy
Creative Brief
VISUAL CONCEPT DEVELOPMENT

Armed with the creative brief, the designer (or design team) embarks on visualizing the
communication in alternative ways that will achieve the client’s goals. To be considered are
the project’s format, the ordering of content, how and where it will be encountered by its
audience—as well as, of course, possibilities for its visual language. Preliminary concept
studies will be reviewed internally to focus on specific directions, and these will then be
evolved to a somewhat refined level so that the client can understand how they work.
Typically, three to five concepts in the form of rough prototypes, or “comps” (short for
“comprehensive rough”) are presented to the client.

Concept Exploration
Internal Review and Critique
Investigation of Media for Production
Concept Selections
Constructing and Testing
Problem Solving
Creation of Rough Prototypes
Presentation to Client
Once the designer identifies the best concept and evolves it, he or she will
then engage in a process of clarifying the message and refining its formal
aspects to achieve a state of resolution, a condition in which the project’s
visual attributes have become somewhat singular: indisputably embodying
particular qualities that seem considered, well-crafted, decisive and, in the
context of its eventual environment, will seem the one best way for it to be.
The last phase involves getting the project out into the world, whether that
means printing, fabricating, or coding; and this phase typically requires
collaboration with specialists in the trade or discipline with the necessary
expertise to realize the designer’s vision. It’s very important for designers to
be well versed in a variety of production processes so they can weigh the
effects of any particular one on a project’s timeline or budget; such
knowledge can also help designers understand how a given process might
best be exploited to enhance the expression of a project’s visual language
and, ultimately, the ideas it communicates.
REVISIONS AND REFINEMENT

Upon the client’s review and hopefully approval of one of the concepts presented, the
designer or team will then build out the remainder of the project and address any concerns
the client has raised. During this stage, there are likely to be several phases of back-and-
forth review of the project between the designer(s) and the client. In addition to revising
and possibly correcting hierarchic or functionality problems, the designer(s) also will be
steadily refining the visual language of the project’s parts, clarifying image and color use,
details of weight, spacing, and structure in its typography, and so on. A er a previously
agreed-upon number of rounds of revisions, by which point the designer(s) have achieved
resolution, the client will approve the project for production.

Creation of Additional Components

Addressing Client Concerns
More Specific Problem Solving
Clarifying Hierarchy
Fine-Tuning Color and Image Logic
Subcontracting Photography/Illustration
Detailed Typesetting and Styling
Exploring Relevant Media in Depth
Proofreading and Visual Corrections
Submission to Client for Final Approval
IMPLEMENTATION

With the project’s visual design finally approved, the designer(s) focus attention on its
production or fabrication—whether this entails printing, coding, fabricating and installing
objects, and so on. For whatever production process is required, the designer(s) create the
artwork or digital files as requested by a specialist engaged to perform the production work.
Generally, designer(s) will seek cost estimates from several specialists for whatever
production services are needed, selecting the most appropriate provider based on their
expertise, and in consideration of the client’s budget. The designer(s) will see prototypes or
proofs of the work to check its quality, and o en may personally oversee the production
process.

Formulation of Production Specifications

Requesting Cost Estimates for Production
Contracting Production Specialists
Creating Relevant Artwork or Files
Reviewing Proofs or Prototypes
Correcting Files to Improve Quality
Overseeing Production or Fabrication
Delivery of Realized Project
Visual Concept Development Naturally, the phase that most interests
designers is that of ideation: visualizing a given project’s message, or
concept. Designers approach concept development from myriad directions.
The very definition of a concept differs among designers: some see the
content itself as the concept; others see it as a raw thing, to be interpreted
and embellished through visual metaphor, allusion, or added context; yet
others weigh these philosophies to choose one or the other approach as
appropriate at a given time. However one frames the idea, every stage of the
concept-development process is one of exploration, so it’s important to
really understand what that means: investigating without preconception. To
envision an end result usually results in a formulaic response or cliché; it
blinds one to potentially more inventive solutions. At every step, the
designer must accept the exploration’s results, whether potentially
successful or not: The point is to discover what is effective—and what is
not. Being open to rethinking is critical. Try not to like anything outright:
Find what works and then like it because it does.

The visual development stages shown here as a typical example of the design process are
from the author’s own work in creating a visual identity for Streamline Health Care
Solutions, a medical billing consultancy.
—
The designer examined a range of approaches to understand their respective potentials in
the given context: visual brainstorming. The goal of this phase was not to arrive at any
conclusions—and never to preconceive the outcome—but, rather, to roughly and rapidly
generate as many ideas as possible.
—
The general rule of this investigative process is “The more, and the more different, the
better.” There’s no point in getting caught up in refining any single idea until a multitude
exists from which to make comparisons and, eventually, a selection of one or several that
seem most viable.

In dialogue with the client, the designer isolated the particular concept that’s determined to
be the most appropriate; in this case, a hybrid of two nonpictorial approaches discovered in
the exploration process: A flame-like, authoritative form suggesting energy and the initial S
of the client’s name, and a linear pattern conveying a unified system and, perhaps, sheafs of
documents. The designer experiments with variations (in scale, rhythm, position, and so on)
to compare how these options alternately confuse, clarify, or augment the communication—
both conceptually and formally. Not to be confused with “clean-up” or mere simplification,
this stage in the process—refinement—concerns editing the form elements to bring them to
a state in which they appear decisively resolved. Eventually, color and typography for the
client’s wordmark were studied in a similar, iterative process.
The author’s conceptual and visual development of this theater poster follows a similar
process as described for the logo, opposite. The subject (a drama set during the 1979 Islamic
revolution in Iran, around the time of Nowruz, the Persian New Year) necessitated extensive
research into political and cultural symbolism that gave rise to a multitude of sketches
(above) in a search to combine visual signs that would speak to the dualities of hope and
conflict, rebirth and death. Three major concepts, from perhaps 50, were isolated as
embodying the greatest potential for conveying those ideas (above, right). Each offered
potential, but the one featuring a manipulation of a hyacinth, a powerful cultural symbol
(middle concept) most dramatically captured the complex ideas to be communicated.
For more specific meaning, the skulls used to form the hyacinth’s flowers were replaced by
stylized grenades; testing variations in their organization revealed a dynamic, ornamental
configuration that reflected Iranian decorative motifs and allowed for secondary symbols (a
pomegranate, also relevant to Nowruz) to be integrated. Once the primary image achieved a
state of resolution, the designer examined possible compositional strategies within the
poster’s format, in relation to the text that would accompany it (above, le ). At this stage,
the designer also introduced a secondary image element (a decorative pattern) and color,
both derived from an example of Iranian ceramics. To enhance the color palette and improve
hierarchic distinction within the typography, the designer opted to add a fourth hue (the
saturated green). A quick series of studies revealed a simple, dot/line relationship between
the main icon and the text structure; further manipulations of the title and a combination of
serif and sans-serif fonts captured a calligraphic quality that integrated with the contours,
shaping, and rhythm of the illustration.
The Business of Being a Designer There are many ways to practice design,
and a nearly unlimited number of kinds of design to practice; but they all
involve being a business-person. Graphic design is an industry, as well as a
discipline. And, like any other profession, the business of designing
demands not only an investment in equipment and a space to do it, but
considerable knowledge of commercial law and the professional standards,
commonly accepted practices, and ethics it has evolved. Joining a
professional graphic design association is a great way of becoming familiar
with how the business works and for connecting with the design community
at large. Whether regional or international, general in focus or specialized,
such organizations typically offer resources to help navigate the ins and
outs of prospecting for employment or clients, self-promotion, negotiating
salaries or freelance fees, and the intricate (and sometimes annoying)
legalities that pertain to contract writing and intellectual property. There’s a
lot to know to get started… But you have to start somewhere. Here’s a
simple overview of what the business of design entails.
IN-DISCIPLINE AREAS OF PRACTICE

Print
Despite the prevalence of digital communication and a resulting
decrease in the total volume of materials produced by printing, many
designers choose to focus on projects that will be produced only
through such media—whether offset lithography, screenprinting,
letterpress, engraving, thermography, and so on.

Print designers may further specialize in a particular medium or genre

of communication: the design of periodicals, like magazines or
newsletters, or books—to develop a particular niche for their practice.
BOOKS
MAGAZINES
JOURNALS
NEWSPAPERS
FINANCIAL REPORTS
CATALOGUES
NEWSLETTERS
BROCHURES/PAMPHLETS
SELL SHEETS
FLYERS
EVENT INVITATIONS
ANNOUNCEMENTS
MENUS
STATIONERY
FORMS
MAPPING
TRANSIT SCHEDULES
INSTRUCTION MANUALS
POSTERS
DIRECT MAIL
PRINTED ADVERTISING
CHARTS/DIAGRAMS
COMICS/ZINES
BAGS/BOXES/LABELS
T-SHIRTS/PRINTED MERCH
LIMITED EDITION WORKS
CARDS/GAME BOARDS
TYPEFACE DESIGN
Radiant Media
This general area of practice typically implies focus on the
development of websites, but comprises all kinds of screen-based
projects categorized under the umbrella term UX/UI (user
experience/user interface)—from motion graphics and animation (for
online or televised application), to mobile apps and onsite informational
kiosks, to spatial projections as might be used in stage performance or
in exhibitions.
BROCHUREWARE SITES
SERVICE SITES
E-COMMERCE SITES
NAVIGATION INTERFACES
E-LEARNING CONTEXTS
MOBILE APPS
SOCIAL MEDIA
PRODUCT INTERFACES
ANIMATIONS
INSTRUCTIONAL VIDEOS
DIGITAL KIOSKS
FILM/VIDEO TITLES
PROGRAM OPENERS
FILM SUBTITLING
DIGITAL GAME DESIGN
PRESENTATIONS
AUGMENTED REALITY
TELEVISION COMMERCIALS
ON-AIR NEWS GRAPHICS
SCREEN PROJECTIONS
SPATIAL PROJECTIONS
Dimensional
Graphic design in the service of physical and spatial media most often
supports the work of architects, interior designers, and industrial
(product) designers—especially when it comes to typographic elements
like signage and product labeling. This area of specialization also
includes the graphical shaping of products (especially with regard to
packaging, like the design of bottles, canisters, and so on), exhibition
and trade-show design, and textile work.
SIGNAGE
WAYFINDING SYSTEMS
ARCHITECTURAL GRAPHICS
STOREFRONT BRANDING
INTERIOR BRANDING
RETAIL DISPLAYS
EXHIBITS
TRADE SHOWS
SHOWROOMS
SET OR STAGE DESIGN
INFORMATIONAL KIOSKS
POINT OF SALE DISPLAYS
FINISHES, FIXTURES
TEXTILE PATTERNS
TEXTILE PRINTS
FORM/COLOR BLOCKING
3D PRINT ORNAMENTS
PRODUCT SHAPING
PRODUCT LABELING
PRODUCT GRAPHICS
PACKAGING CONTAINERS
Multidisciplinary/Branding
Of course, a designer may choose not to choose an area of practice in
which to concentrate—to be a “jack-of-all-trades” who will take on the
challenge presented by any kind of communication project. Such
designers often gravitate toward branding, or visual identity, because
it’s a comprehensive, systems-based practice that addresses how a
visual language concept will apply to a wide variety of media and
applications. Branding, specifically, also integrates the practices of
strategic development (and sometimes, naming), as well as a focus on
symbol (logo) design.
Typeface Design
The design of fonts is its own area of specialization, independent of
application. Designers who pursue type design as a career are relativey
few in number, and their skills are highly valued. Those working in this
field may develop fonts for sale and distribution as freelancers—
licensing their work to font houses or selling them to designers directly;
they may also be enagaged by branding studios to develop custom faces
for their clients; and, they may work as part of a team at an established
foundry.
PRACTICE MODELS AND CAREER PATHS

Studio/Agency
Most designers are full-time, salaried employees in a design studio or
agency (advertising or public relations). They enter as junior designers,
rising to a senior designer position after 3 to 5 years of experience, and then
to the level of art director or design director (5 to 10 years), overseeing
groups of juniors and seniors. The top level of creative director oversees
them all, a position typically achieved after 10 years of practice or more.

Freelance
Some designers work independently, offering their expertise to design
studios or consultants on a per-project (or “gig”) basis. These designers
sometimes work onsite at their employers’ locations (or, occasionally in
their own homes or studios) and charge an hourly or daily rate. Many
freelancers continue this practice for their entire careers, while some
develop their own consultancies after a time.

Consulting
It’s also possible for an individual designer to establish his or her own
studio; while still technically freelancers, these designers conduct their
practices as businesses, scouting out and servicing a consistent roster of
clients. They may work from home, or have an independent office.

Education
Many designers, at all levels (and whether salaried, freelance, or
consultants) supplement their professional practice by teaching—usually at
the university level, in an established graphic design program. The majority
are adjunct instructors—meaning, they are employed on a semester-by-
semester, or seasonal, basis; some seek full-time positions as professors
who work toward tenure.
THE STUDIO SETUP

Designers working in a studio or agency will find all their material and technological needs
met. Freelance designers and consultants, on the other hand, must fend for themselves. At
the very least, they’ll need a laptop computer, so ware subscriptions, and some way of
generating printed proofs to show clients. A separate studio space, if feasible, is helpful for
defining work/life balance, but it’s entirely possible to set up a dedicated workspace in one’s
home. Most designing takes place in a digital context; still, it’s important to have
conventional studio materials on hand. And, along with reference materials for color and
printing, it’s especially important for designers to cultivate a library: books, periodicals, and
other publications they may look to for inspiration, reference, theory, and discussion of
contemporary issues.

Computer / Laser printer / Scanner

Drawing and painting media
Studio knife / Ruler and straightedge
Work table with cutting surface
Paper stock samples or swatchbooks
Printing ink swatchbook(s)
Process color guide
Production and fabrication references
Design library
DESIGN FEE BASICS

The Hourly Rate

All design work is billed to clients based on time in some way, simply
because “creativity” is hard to quantify. The value of that time varies—
based on the designer’s level of experience, the nature of the project, and
even market values for hourly employment in different locales. Most design
organizations produce a pricing guideline or, at the very least, are good
resources to contact to discuss pricing; and there exist several publications
devoted to the subject. That said, a typical hourly rate for junior-level
designers (depending on location) is $25–50; for seniors, $50–100; and for
art directors or higher, $100–300.

The Flat Fee

Billing by the hour is problematic: a client has no way to budget; a designer
who is very fast makes less than one who is slower, assuming similar
quality; and there are endless ways for both players to exploit each other.
It’s generally better, therefore, to establish a single, all-encompassing fee
for a project. Most designers and studios use an hourly rate as a rough basis
for calculating a fee, but adjust it according to all those variables outlined
above. In addition, one must consider the working process: how many
concepts to be presented, how many revisions, and how quick the delivery
schedule. However a fee might be structured, every designer should use a
contract that outlines the scope of work to be included, the time frame for
the project, the fees to be paid—and which rights to use that work transfer
to the client, versus those that remain with the designer.

Expenses
Design fees are just that: compensation for the time and expertise devoted
to designing. All additional costs—from out-of-pocket expenses, like studio
supplies, to implementation, like printing—should be billed in addition to
the design fees. Most designers add a surcharge of 20% to expenses they
bill; it covers the cost of banking those expenses on the client’s behalf
during the project’s duration.
CREATING A PORTFOLIO

Designers of all stripes make their living by showing prospective employers and clients
documentation of their skills, aesthetic point of view, and prior experience—a portfolio—
commonly referred to as one’s “book.” Most designers present a selection of their work
online, but a physical presentation is still important for in-person interviews; and it should
add to, enhance, and evolve whatever is shown online. There are all sorts of philosophies
about what one’s portoflio should include (or not), and how one should be organized; but
ultimately, it’s an expression of the designer him- or herself—aesthetically, conceptually,
and organizationally. In any case, a portfolio is a designed experience, and the way it’s
designed suggests all kinds of things about its designer beyond what the work itself shows—
their ability to evaluate and edit; to order and pace; to build a hierarchy; to impart a
narrative about the work; and even simply to typeset well. Several publications, like the
ones above, offer valuable insights and methods to help designers develop compelling,
effective displays of their work.
SELF PROMOTION

Whether you’re casting about for a new, salaried position or looking to entice new freelance
clients, self promotion is critical. Many designers maintain a public presence through social
media, but nothing beats mailed promotional items like cards, miniportfolios, or conceptual
explorations for impact and memorability. Some studios initiate a series of publications that
explore journalistic subject matters, mailing them to existing clients and prospective ones
alike; others create posters (like the ones shown here) or send holiday cards, ranging in
production technique from commercial printing (which, of course, is more costly) to
personal stamp-printing and drawing. For digital options, one might consider creating
microsites, short videos or animations, and sending links to prospects via email.

These self-promotional posters are new year’s greetings, based on the creatures of the
Chinese zodiac. The back sides list personality traits, notable events, and relevant celebrity
birthdays associated with the zodiac avatar.
IDEAS ON PURPOSE / UNITED STATES
Brand New Conference 2019
VISUAL IDENTITY

UNDERCONSIDERATION / UNITED STATES

Organized by design duo Bryony Gomez-Palacio and Armin Vit (otherwise
known as UnderConsideration LLC), the Brand New Conference is an
annual event devoted to corporate identity and branding that brings together
the most active and influential practitioners from around the world. It grew
from the influential blog of the same name, which the two began publishing
in 2006; in 2019, the conference celebrated its 10th anniversary. Each year,
the two partners undertake the development of a new brand for the
conference itself as it appears in a new venue.

The changing location of the conference (called BNCONF for short) is fundamental to its
character. Accordingly, the venue during any given year informs that year’s branding. In
2019, the conference took place in Las Vegas and, specifically, downtown: the original
gambling center established before the Strip. Vit and Gomez-Palacio were drawn to the mid-
20th century version of the downtown area, and to two vis-ual aspects, in particular: the
marquee letters typically used for signage on the older casinos; and, not surprisingly, their
dazzling neon light displays. It seemed immediately clear to them that these two elements
were those upon which the conference’s identity should be based that year.

A search for an equivalent typeface proved fruitless (too slick or grungy). Instead, a vintage
set turned up online; these were scanned, refined, and converted into a working font. The
caplines and baselines of the font’s characters are flat, and their curves squared off, creating
a modular quality that the designers not only appreciated, but exaggerated with extremely
tight letterspacing and leading.
—
The pair then turned their attention to the “frenetic, on-off flickering of neon signs,
lightbulbs, and letters,” they appreciated as characteristic of the Vegas experience. Armed
with a telephoto lens, the pair photographed every neon sign they could—in as many “on”
and “off” states as possible. From more than 2,600 images, they selected the ones that
yielded the best on-off states and, according to Vit, “looked the coolest” as abstractions.
—
In spelling out the conference’s monogram, the designers realized that the acrylic rectangle
framing the source letters created its own modular frame, and so provided a means of
working with the photographs to visualize the flicker they were hoping to achieve. By
masking alternating photographs into the letters and their surrounding frames, they
created jarring, seemingly electrical image pairs. The buzzing visual flicker was tailor made
for the website and social media posts, but the question of how to translate it into physical
materials for the conference—like programs, badges, and so on—presented a challenge.
—
The solution was to be found in lenticular printing, a method in which two (or more) images
are printed onto parallel lens ridges made of thermoplastic; when viewed at different
angles, they appear 3D or animated. The alternating images were printed in this way and
then spliced together in various combinations, resulting in individually customized program
covers (using the letter/frame configuration) and badges for the conference attendees (in an
alternate, nested/concentric frame configuration). Interior layouts of the programs and the
informational components of attendees’ badges made use of calming, bold, black fields to
carry type, reversed white; the marquee font carried names and upper-level headings, with
a cast of suppirting fonts: a geometric sans serif, set all uppercase, for subheadings; a bold
slab serif, for running text; and a 1950s brush script, for accent text.
—
Bags for conference merchandise were kept simple, each featuring a full-format image form
the library of neon light photographs; but the presentation stage letters took another
imaginative turn. Constructing the conference’s monogram and year marker as shallow
“trays” of acrylic allowed the designers to line the inside “lip” of the tray with adhesive-
backed LED light strips. The strips were alternated in color within and among the
characters, and had settings that allowed them to pulse at different rates—re-creating the
sensory overload of the casino environment.
—
The realization of this project shows an intelligent, witty dialogue between vernacular
sources for communication and their reinvention as a relevant, contemporary, narrative
system.
CAUSIN’ SOME TROUBLE: BREAKING EVERY RULE IN
THIS BOOK

Donʼt expect theory to determine how things look.

MICHAEL ROCK/DESIGNER AND EDUCATOR / Principal, 2x4, New York

Rules in graphic design exist as guidelines that provide context for

evaluating work and serve to help designers avoid problems that interfere
with communication. Hopefully, if you’ve spent time reviewing the material
in the preceding chapters, you’ll see that most of these so-called rules make
pretty good sense.
——
It is often said, however, that rules are made to be broken, and this is never
truer than in design. No two projects are alike: Every project comes with
different requirements; different ideas to be expressed; very specific kinds
of content that demand lateral thinking; and often, audiences with very
particular needs. Further, a designer’s personal point of view and formal
sensibility are valid sources for visualization in their own right. No design
approach should ever be considered out of bounds—“Thou shalt not, on
pain of death!”—so long as (one might argue) the end result is clear and
compelling communication.
——
It’s important for designers to evaluate the pros and cons of following a
certain rule on a case-by-case basis. If adhering to the rule is creating a
problem, test to see what will happen when the rule is broken. Some rules
are less flexible than others, and there is likely to be a trade-off when
breaking any rule: something will be gained, and something will be lost.
The designer must decide whether the sacrifice is acceptable and ultimately
be prepared to accept the consequence of the decision. Becoming confident
enough in one’s understanding of how the rules of visual language really
work takes time; once that happens, a designer can take new liberties in the
way he or she approaches visualizing their projects and enjoy the process of
experimentation. Some of the greatest innovations in visual communication
happen when designers knowingly—and intelligently—throw the rule book
away.
Sometimes, the content needs to speak with as little interference as possible.
This is true in the case of pure information design—in forms, for example,
where the content’s only requirement is to be understood very easily—but
might also be true for other project types, as well. Being neutral and having
no concept—presenting content very directly and efficiently, refining
legibility and hierarchy, and using color and material to craft a refined
artifact—is a concept unto itself. This approach can result in a quickly
accessible, informative, and functionally user-centric experience, which is
not without its appeal.
01
HAVE A CONCEPT

The design of this trade book approaches its subject as information to be delivered in a clear,
concise, and neutral way—letting the content speak for itself. It is, a er all, an instructional
volume. The restrained presentation allows the book’s readers to access the content without
interference.
CONOR & DAVID / IRELAND
02
COMMUNICATE—DON’T DECORATE

When the message warrants it, use form willy-nilly, without regard for its
meaning. This, in itself, might be interpreted as a message and—on rare
occasions—that message is appropriate as part of a design solution. A
project concerning Baroque or Victorian aesthetics, for example, might very
well benefit from extremely decorative treatments that would otherwise
constitute a crime against nature.

A kaleidoscopic collage of varied form languages and image elements capture the
experimental energy of a hip cultural event. Rather than attempt to parse the visual
language for meaningful content, viewers will absorb the imagery’s exuberant color and
movement to interpret an appropriate feeling.
VICTOR MATIK / ITALY
03
BE UNIVERSAL

Always tailor the message to the audience. For a subculture whose

expectations of visual messaging are very specific—a hip-hop website, as
opposed to a large-scale, general-public branding campaign—using visual
metaphor, idiosyncratic stylistic treatments of type or image, and color that
references their shared context will resonate more powerfully than images
and color that are designed to speak to the world at large.

The audience targeted by this poster is young and interested in messages that speak to them
obliquely, pose questions rather than answer them, or suggest ideas that may be
antiestablishment, or discussed only within small segments of the population. While the
formal manipulation of the type suggests some relationship to electronica, the image of the
wild boar is a conceptual message inserted to provoke a reaction.
SUPERSCRIPT / FRANCE
04
SPEAK WITH ONE VISUAL VOICE

The quickest way to draw attention to a particular element is to make it

different from everything else around it, and this can be highly effective as
a communication strategy. Disharmony among visual elements, whether
stylistic, compositional, or chromatic, is also a message unto itself.

Unified by their shape and bold, black exteriors, these packages of coffee are each given a
radically different style of illustration to more clearly differentiate each roast. In one sense,
the consistent change of the visual language in each package becomes a kind of system unto
itself.
A-SIDE / UNITED KINGDOM
05
LEARN TO LIVE WITH LESS

By all means, add extra stuff if it helps the message. Intricate, complicated,
maze-like arrangements of form, even though somewhat daunting at first,
will appeal to specific audiences. Including apparently unrelated forms or
images, or creating an overload of form or texture, may add an important
subtext that, in the end, helps support the project’s intent.

This poster trades on the vernacular of 19th-century circus posters and Hatch Show prints,
invoking the busy, “undesigned” aesthetic of those predecessors to create a metaphorical
context for a cultural event. The addition of multiple clusters of text information at
different sizes, in different styles, together with overlapping images and surreal details
captures the romance of the circus and its carnival-like multitasking quality of
entertainment.
THE NATIONAL GRID [JONTY VALENTINE, MAX LOZACH, AND LUKE WOOD] / NEW ZEALAND
06
CREATE SPACE—DON’T FILL IT

Okay, there’s no good way to break this rule. An absence of negative space
is a disaster and always will be. That said, allowing visual material in
particular segments of a project to overwhelm the compositional space—on
occasion, in response to other segments in which negative space is used
liberally—can be an excellent strategy for introducing dramatic rhythm and
helping focus attention on special material.

Similar to other examples presented in this section, this poster promotes its subject—
alternative music performances, in this case—to a very specific, subcultural audience. The
explosive rhythm of yellow, black, and white type and blocks of color that just about fills the
poster’s format edge to edge conveys the visceral quality of the experience to be had and the
wall of sound that attendees will expect.
HI [MEGI ZUMSTEIN+CLAUDIO BARANDUN] / GERMANY
07
GIVE ’EM THE ONE-TWO PUNCH

Presenting a multitude of items for simultaneous consideration gets the

information out front quickly, leaving the viewers to decide what is most
interesting or important at a particular moment—making them participate in
getting the information, rather than handing it to them on a plate. If they
have to work for it, they might enjoy it and remember it more easily later.
As a metaphor for a particular season’s fashion collection that celebrates repurposing of
design gestures and materials, this advertising poster delivers multiple levels of
information simultaneously—in essence, the scattering of image and text elements takes on
the quality of detritus to be picked through as a source for ideas and style.
RÉGIS TOSETTI / UNITED KINGDOM
08
BEWARE OF SYMMETRY

Symmetry evokes a set of classical, Old World, elitist messages; it can,

therefore, be powerfully exploited for formal, historical, and serious
material—and as a foil to more dynamic content. Tension between spatial
intervals, density and openness, and light and dark becomes critical in
maintaining visual activity so that the symmetry becomes elegant, lively,
and austere, rather than heavy handed, stiff, and dull.
The designer of this poster very skillfully navigates its symmetry and counters any potential
static presentation with pattern and icon elements that are confrontationally large and
introduce compositional tension; further, the patterns are distributed to the le and right of
the central axis in alternating hues of different value and temperature, drawing the eye
inward and outward from the axis with different degrees of emphasis.
DENNIS KOOT / NETHERLANDS
09
FIGHT THE FLATNESS

Proceed with caution. The primary danger here is causing viewers to

disengage because it is the illusion of depth and movement that creates
wonderment and makes them forget that they’re looking at a designed
communication. Static arrangements of material, however, can be very
focused and restful, an alternative to dramatic movement and deep spatial
illusion, and in that sense can be useful at times. Optically flat arrangements
can provide visual punctuation to aggressive presentation, and contrasting
moments of focus and introspection. A pronounced lack of spatial
experience creates an altogether different feeling in a project and, when it
makes sense for the message, is quite appropriate.
Gigantic, flat semicircles and rectangles of white and black carve out a dramatic shape
cluster in this poster that carves out the title and punches the illusory depth into an almost
singular plane—and punches the viewer in the proverbial gut with its unapologetic and
joyous confrontation. Small details created by negative spaces introduce rhythmic tension
between the large forms.
SAWDUST / UNITED KINGDOM
10
PICK COLORS ON PURPOSE

Being more or less random—choosing colors whose usual association

purposely conflicts with expectation—is a viable method that can achieve
some surprising results. After a time, choosing color using familiar methods
yields combinations that may be somewhat expected or, worse, completely
uninteresting. Purposely selecting color combinations that feel awkward or
disharmonious often presents unexpected options that somehow retain
chromatic relationships. Additionally, a random color choice might
sometimes aid in communication, depending on the nature of the project.
Seeming randomness, like other messages, can be valid given the concept
the designer intends to convey.
The designers of this publication—part of a European city’s branding program—chose colors
not so much at random, but in terms of defaults: the process colors magenta and yellow,
combined with two tones of black. The overlap of the red ink on the yellow ink—which has
been slightly adjusted toward a greener hue—creates a jarring, random-like chromatic
jumble, in concert with the middle-value neutral gray.
ONLAB / GERMANY
11
LESS COLOR IS MORE

As with all the rules, be careful and considerate when breaking this one—
and always for a reason of communication. A firestorm of thousands of
hues, of differing values and intensities, may not yield a specific color idea
that viewers can commit to memory, but the experience of being
overwhelmed by uncontrolled extravagance is surely not easily forgotten.

Rich, vibrant hues that transition through every part of the spectrum work to create a
vividly sensuous support for the surreal illustration in this poster. One effect of the candy-
like saturation and multiplicity of hues is that the image becomes possibly less threatening
than it might be if it were rendered in a limited palette.
LA BOCA / UNITED KINGDOM
12
MASTER THE DARK AND THE LIGHT

A tonally quiet, soft presentation in which contrast between light and dark
(or temperature and intensity) is minimized can be very effective in
garnering attention, helping to separate viewers from surrounding, more
active, visual activity. Low-contrast images and typography are perceived
as more contemplative and elegant, rather than urgent or aggressive.

An extremely low-contrast range of dark-value tones creates a smoky, dreamlike nocturnal

experience that reflects a theme of the fashion event that this poster promotes: “noir” or
blackness. Although the poster’s typography is reversed out to white, it is of such small scale
that it nearly is absorbed into the surrounding fields of gray, darker gray, and black
texture. Adding a taste of luxury (as well as exacerbating the low-contrast near invisibility
of the imagery), the poster is printed on a highly reflective metallic paper stock.
TSTO / FINLAND
13
FRIENDLY TYPE IS GOOD TYPE

As you might guess, the relative accessibility of type greatly depends on the
message being conveyed. Making portions of type illegible, overbearing,
aggressive, sharp and dangerous, nerve-wracking, or fragile is perfectly
acceptable—indeed, preferable—when the job calls for it. There is no
excuse for typography that doesn’t viscerally communicate in an
appropriate way, even if this means frightening, frustrating, or confusing
viewers in service of the right concept.

And—all of these attributes are present in this poster, which promotes a film festival that
gives special attention to the work of directors who explore dark and disturbing themes. The
typography may, in fact, be read by focusing on the boundaries where the individual lines of
text meet, to find a kind of anchoring point; or, by viewing the poster from extreme angles
so that the perspective renders the type more regular in appearance (much like crosswalk
warnings printed in the street). The notion of “extreme viewing angle,” however, as well as
the filmstrip like flicker, both communicate more about the poster’s subject than does the
text itself.
RAF VANKAMPENHOUDT + JORIS VAN AKEN / NETHERLANDS
14
USE TWO FONTS, MAXIMUM

Complex text, with a great many parts, will be clarified by strong, varied
changes in type style. Sometimes, you’ll need many different typefaces
working together to create a kind of busy texture that conveys something
important. Thinking outside the type box can be difficult, especially if
you’re comfortable with a select set of typefaces: So take a deep breath,
close your eyes, and click the font list at random.

This stylishly elegant magazine spread derives much of its beauty from the contrasts in
width, weight, structural changes, and detailing within an astutely considered mix of some
ten typefaces.
VRUCHTFLEES / NETHERLANDS
15
TREAT TYPE AS YOU WOULD IMAGE

There are always times when typography needs to shut up and get out of the
way—especially when the type accompanies cataloged artwork or is acting
in support of images that are carrying the brunt of the communication
burden. In such instances, treat the type as quietly and as neutrally as
possible. Even so, carefully consider its size, spacing, and stylistic
presentation.

To prevent this book cover’s titling type from overpowering the fire image—which is
presented quietly in a dithered texture and with relatively diminished contrast—the
designers chose a lightweight sans serif and low-reflection metallic foil that would cause it
to sink elegeantly into the surface. The type’s elegantly restrained quality is ehanced by a
simple, flush le arrangement.
FINEST MAGMA / GERMANY
16
AVOID REDUNDANT REDUNDANCIES

The breaking of this rule is more of a practical issue, driven by the content
of a given project: If you’re designing a magazine about travel, clearly the
images will show what the text describes. Still, repetition of text content by
image and vice-versa can be useful for making a point crystal clear. Subtle
differences in the same subject or idea, presented verbally and visually, will
add depth and richness.

Food packaging is one of those types of project that almost requires visual/verbal
redundancy: consumers want to see the food and understand its freshness or tastiness,
even though the label tells them whatʼs inside the box. This packaging system explodes
the images of the contents around the edges of the format in almost surreal
supersaturation of color.
KREZIMIR MILOLOSA / CROATIA
17
CREATE IMAGES—DON’T SCAVENGE

True, finding an image to stick into a layout tends to be quicker; sometimes,

however, purposely using banal, almost meaningless or kitsch images from
stock sources can be great fun, especially if the project calls for a
vernacular approach or conceptually refers to the ubiquity of image content
and the influence of day-to-day pop culture. But the real benefit of
scavenging is acquiring pieces and parts that can be used to create custom
images. Even more intriguing is the possibility of revitalizing the
understanding of familiar or time-worn content by creating an unexpected
relationship with imagery that has been repurposed or pulled out of its
expected context.

In this design of a cover for a master of highbrow literature, the designer appropriates low-
culture comic book imagery to convey the disturbing political and emotional turmoil of
Franz Ka a’s story.
BEN GRANDGENETT / UNITED STATES
The design of this book that explores the musical work of DJ Spooky alludes to the practice of
sampling and the ubiquity of branded messages in a current context.
COMA / NETHERLANDS
18
LOOK TO HISTORY—DON’T REPEAT IT

Don’t get me wrong: history is a treasure trove for designer and public
alike. Books or exhibitions that focus on historical subjects, or invitations to
period-themed events, for example, are perfect vehicles for exhuming visual
style from the vaults of antiquity. The potential fun here is not so much
copying the style outright as sampling portions thereof, adjusting them so
they become new again.

This CD cover revels in its appropriation of period design style without succumbing to the
wholly derivative—a difficult line to walk. The typography evokes the design sensibility of
Blue Note jazz albums from the 1950s and 1960s in its use of slab serif typefaces and
black/blue/yellow color scheme. The confrontational, close-up image is a decidedly
contemporary gesture, making the layout fresh and inventive while still honoring a general
style of photography from the period.
STEREOTYPE DESIGN / UNITED STATES
19
IGNORE FASHION. SERIOUSLY.

Riding the current stylistic trend has occasional benefits. In choosing to do

so, a designer may opt to speak directly to an audience whose subcultural
zeitgeist makes them likely to bypass visual material that doesn’t appear to
speak to them. This is especially true when communicating to adolescents,
who identify with very specific visual styles at any given moment and will
ignore anything else.

Because the fashion industry, in particular, is characterized by the shi ing of trends, the
fact that this runway show invitation is up to the minute in its trendy, retro 1980s style
Swiss Punk aesthetic is quite appropriate. And, it’s visually engaging, showing a dynamic
use of space and beautiful textural contrasts between type, flat geometry, and spray-painted
stipple gradations.
STUDIO NEW WORK / UNITED STATES
20
DO IT ON PURPOSE, OR NOT AT ALL

Ambiguity can be a good thing. While clear visual and conceptual

relationships are usually favored for the sake of quick, accessible
communication, introducing mixed states of being among elements—
elements that appear to be in the foreground, as well as in the background,
as a simple example—can create an impulse on the part of the viewer to
question and investigate more thoroughly. The gap between the concrete
idea and the ambiguously presented image that refers to it can provide more
complex avenues of interpretation and a rich, engaging experience that
yields deeper, more complex understanding.
A caveat to start: the design of this poster is remarkably confident in its contrasts, scale
relationships, and conceptual deconstruction of a flag image by planes that are both flat
and three dimensional at the same time. What might normally be perceived as indecision—
misalignments between text and image forms that appear to be very close to aligning, deep
indents in text that begin to compromise the integrity of the text’s flush edges, and so on—
here come off as the spontaneous results of intuitive image making. Discrepancies in these
details fail to overshadow the more important aspects of a rich, ambiguous interplay
between flat and spatial, solid and outline, and foreground and background.
2XGOLDSTEIN / GERMANY
INDEX
& Walsh, 292

2Fresh, 215, 238

2XGoldstein, 139, 313
A10 Design, 116, 204

A
AAD, 141
About Face (Jury), 6
additive colors, 87
“after-image” effect, 98
aggregates, 38
Airey, David, 97, 103, 143, 199
Aku, 218, 240
Albers, Josef, 84
Ames Bros., 210, 232
Anagrama, 23, 284
analogous color, 96, 100, 109
analogous saturation, 98
And Partners, 203
Apeloig, Philip, 143
Apeloig Design, 27, 207
Argentina, Gorricho, 71, 105, 228, 231
Ariance Spanier Design, 13
The Art of Color (Itten), 93
Ascend Studio, 44, 55, 58, 63, 70, 73, 173, 179, 187, 290
asymmetry, 59
Astrid Stavro Group, 259
Astrid Stavro Studio, 135, 149, 169
Atelier 480, 29
Atipus, 14
Australia
For the People, 288
Frost Design, 28, 123, 171, 247, 254
Garbett, 66, 68, 112, 121, 174, 251, 287
Munda Graphics, 76, 200
Parallax, 217, 233
Self-Titled, 71, 105, 134, 219, 241, 285
Simple, 30, 153
There, 45
Voice, 41, 47, 49, 63, 99, 168, 211, 225, 244
Austria
 Andreas Ortag, 158, 196, 246
Clemens Théobert Schedler, 159, 179, 205, 264, 275
Studio Vie, 250
Von K Brand Design Studio, 47, 71, 101

B
B & B Studio, 5, 112
Bachgarde Design, 179, 187
Balland, Ludovic, 165
Bang Bang, 68, 113
Barandun, Claudio, 306
Barnbrook, 82
Beetroot Design Group, 91
Bickford-Smith, Coralie, 17, 43, 112, 197
Big Active, 222
Billie Jean, 211
“black effect,” 98
Blok Design, 27
Brand Brothers, 107, 192, 251, 291
Brand New Conference, 300
Brazil
A10 Design, 116, 204
BR/Bauen, 83, 129, 173
Laboratorio Secreto, 5, 24, 215
Media Invia (Diego Morales), 39
BR/Bauen, 83, 129, 173
Bringhurst, Robert, 132, 151
Brodovitch, Alexey, 242
Bruketa & Zinic, 12, 58, 217
Bureau Mirko Borsche, 74
Burnett, Ron, 194

C
C + G Partners, 16, 34, 47, 137, 217
Canada
Atelier 480, 29
Bang Bang, 68, 113
Blok Design, 27
Executive Agency, 48
Marek Okon, 16, 172
Subcommunication, 109
Thomas Csano, 22, 82, 104, 123, 199, 252
Wedge, 268
Casalino, Catherine, 220
Chang, Myung Ha, 193
Chang, Tammy, 172
C. Harvey Graphic Design, 59, 149
Cheng Design, 40, 158
Chew, Kelly, 226
CHK Design, 152
Choi, Yong, 247
Choi, Youjin, 22, 24, 69
Chuo, Christine, 172
Church, Wallace, 206, 208
Classmate Studio, 5, 37, 75, 207, 221
Cobra, 22, 153, 193, 237, 246
collage, 214
color
additive, 87
analogous, 96, 98, 100, 102, 109
“black effect,” 98
calibration, 126
chroma, 89
closed relationship, 102
coding palettes, 116
color models, 93
complementary, 96, 109
compressed value scale, 100
cool colors, 91
desaturation, 89
diametric opposition, 98
emotions and psychology, 119
empirical associations, 118
extension, 95, 98, 100, 102
fabrication material and, 130
form and space, 104
gamut, 87
grayscale, 87
hexadecimal “websafe” color, 87
hue, 86, 88, 96
indexed color, 87
in-print, 127
introduction, 86
limited palettes, 114
manipulating, 122
models, 93
multiple-variable systems, 111
neutral hues, 89
optical sensation and, 124
palette and photography, 115
palette definition, 108
 perception, 86
process (CMYK) color, 87, 127
print media and, 128
progressive saturation, 98
progressive value, 100
relationships, 92, 102, 109
RGB color, 87
rule of selection, 12, 308
rule of usage, 13, 309
rhythmic extension, 100, 102
saturation, 86, 89, 98
simultaneous contrast of, 94
single-variable systems, 111
spaces, 87
split opposition, 98
spot color, 87
subtractive, 87
symbolism of, 120
systems, 110
temperature, 86, 91, 102
triadic, 96, 109
type hierarchy, 188
typographic color, 165, 178
value, 86, 90, 100, 246
visual hierarchy, 106
warm color, 91
wheel and sphere, 93
column grids, 258
Coma, 239, 259, 278, 312
communication rule, 8, 304
compositional contrast, 76
compositional strategies
contrast, 76
foundations of meaning, 82
goal of totality, 70
macro-/micro-level, 75
space activation, 72
symmetry, 79
tension, 78
unity, 74
visual hierarchy, 80
compound grids, 259
concept rule, 8, 304
conceptual allusion, 272
Conor & David, 14, 67, 107, 304
Croatia
 Bruketa & Zinic, 12, 58, 217
Kresimir Milolosa, 311
Mireldy, 130, 212
Studio International, 40, 76, 108, 236, 241
Studio Marvil, 46, 293
Csano, Thomas, 22, 82, 104, 123, 199, 252
Cyr Studio, 198, 206
Czech Republic, Studio Marvil, 53, 169, 181

D
Das Buro, 55
data processing, 218
decisiveness, 32
decisiveness rule, 17, 313
Denmark, e-Types, 61, 271
desaturation, 89
Designers United, 33
Design Ranch, 283
Detail Design Studio, 97, 121
Diano & Co., 23, 185, 267
diametric color opposition, 98
Disturbance, 97, 207
dots, 34, 50, 83, 186
Drobac, Jelena, 23, 99, 103, 143, 217
Drotz Design, 99
Dwiggins, W. A., 4

E
Eames, Ray and Charles, 8
Earsay, 173
Ecuador, Estudio Pánico, 57, 78, 225, 245, 267, 283
The Elements of Typographic Style (Bringhurst), 132, 151
Escher, M. C., 28
Esiete, 63, 145, 277, 282
Estonia, Aku, 218, 240
Estrada, Manuel, 27, 143, 196, 208, 215, 217, 272
Estudio Pánico, 57, 78, 225, 245, 267, 283
e-Types, 61, 271
Executive Agency, 48

F
Falconi, Greg, 212
fashion rule, 17, 313
fees, 299
Fiasco Design, 16, 36, 42, 232, 287
Fibonacci, Leonardo, 62
Finest Magma, 147, 217, 237, 255, 311
Finland, TSTO, 309
Folch Studio, 253
Form, 45, 54
form and space
activating, 72
aggregates, 38, 39
amplitude, 24
appropriateness of, 31
arranging, 56
asymmetry, 59
attributes of form, 34
axes, 38
background arrangement, 64
bleeding the format, 24, 64, 66
color, 87, 104
compositional strategies, 70
contour, 38
corroboration of, 31
division, 62
dots, 34, 50
dynamic interactions, 57
experimenting with, 48
fields, 24, 64
figure/ground relationship, 26
foreground arrangement, 64
form arrangement considerations, 56
format considerations, 68
geometric form, 40
hierarchy, 80
kinesis, 66
lateral arrangement, 64
lines, 35, 37, 52
mathematical logic, 62
middleground arrangement, 64
movement, 66
musical logic, 62
nature of, 24
negative space, 26
organic form, 41
parity, 74
pattern, 43
perception of, 22, 24
physical surface, 44
planar, 36, 37, 54
 positive and negative forms, 26
refinement and resolution, 33
rhythm, 52, 67, 78, 247
semantic gap, 235
singularity, 24
spatial intervals, 52
spread, 24
static interactions, 57
structure, 60
surface activity, 44
symmetry, 58, 79
syntax and grammar, 21
tension, 50, 52, 55, 78
texture, 42
thrust, 54
tonal value, 13, 64, 309
unity enforcement, 74
variables of alteration, 48
visual language and, 22
visual mass, 37
volume, 37
format, 23, 68
For the People, 5, 16, 209, 211, 233, 241, 288
Foster, Kim, 185
France
Apeloig Design, 27, 207
Brand Brothers, 107, 192, 251, 291
Florence Tétier, 61, 222
Helmo, 23
Philip Apeloig, 143
Studio Lesbeauxjours, 184
Superscript, 305
Frost Design, 28, 123, 171, 247, 254
Fuman, 25, 46, 69, 130, 210, 227

G
Gang, Jessie, 82
Garbett, 66, 68, 112, 121, 174, 251, 287
Gawin, Marta, 153, 164, 213, 247, 289
Geissbuhler, Steff, 214
Germany
2XGoldstein, 139, 313
Anna Meyer, 74
Ariance Spanier Design, 13
Bureau Mirko Borsche, 74
Claudio Barandun, 306
 Finest Magma, 147, 217, 237, 255, 311
Glashaus Design, 213
Golden Cosmos, 9
Gunter Rambow, 95, 118
Hi, 306
Julia Klinger, 264
L2M3, 66, 82, 137, 147, 281
Megi Zumstein, 306
Moltobureau, 28, 68, 171, 217, 286
Mutabor, 16, 46, 72, 83
Naroska Design, 27, 35, 65
Onlab, 25, 308
Surface, 27
Think Moto GMBH, 38, 51, 113, 286
Von-K, 264
gestalt, 83, 95
Glashaus Design, 213
Golden Cosmos, 9
Golden Section, 62
Gomez-Palacio, Bryony, 300
Goñi Studio, 125, 219
Gorbunova, Vera, 149
Gorkovenko, Andrew, 23, 200
Gorricho, 71, 105, 228, 231
Grandgenett, Ben, 312
Grapefruit, 143
graphic design(ers), 4, 298
Greece
Beetroot Design Group, 91
Designers United, 33
Luminous Design Group, 26, 47, 69, 134, 170, 191, 211, 216, 220, 233, 287
Gretel, 46, 76, 167, 209, 214, 227, 240, 251
grids
about, 256
in adaptable environments, 266
anatomy, 256
arrangement logic, 264
columns, 256, 258
compound grids, 259
deconstruction of, 270
flowlines, 256
hierarchic grids, 259
image-based, 260
intuitive arrangement, 268
layout variation, 265
margins, 256
 markers, 256
modules, 256, 258
spatial zones, 256
text-based, 261
type and, 261
types of, 258
variation of, 265
violation of, 265
Gruber, Deborah, 217
Guyon, Jil, 244

H
Hajnrich, Maciej, 230
Hansen, Janet, 146, 199, 241
Hayes, Ethan, 241
Helfand, Jessica, 5
Helmo, 23
Helmut Schmid Design, 143
Heo, Sooim, 217
Hi, 306
hierarchic grids, 259
hierarchy
color and, 106
form and space, 80
rule, 11, 307
historical inspiration rule, 16, 312
Hoffmann, Armin, 18
Hoover, Kate, 252
How Images Think (Burnett), 194
hue, 86, 88, 96. See also color
Hungary, Classmate Studio, 5, 37, 75, 207, 221
Hungry Studio (SK), 31, 33, 69, 146, 198
Hurd, Diana, 86
Hyatt Assocs., 213

I
Ideas on Purpose, 51, 70, 97, 137, 167, 185, 186, 208, 259, 299
images
about, 196
abstract messages, 204
algorithmic generation of, 218
alteration, 226
collage, 214
compositional strategies, 222
concrete representation, 196
 connotative representation, 196
cropping strategies, 223
data processing, 218
diagrammatic representation, 196
drawn, 210
editing, 224
expansive form, 198
full-bleed images, 255
graphic translation, 212
grids and, 260
iconic representation, 196
indexical signs, 199
inset images, 253
juxtaposition of, 234
literal representation, 196
media mixing, 230
mediation and, 206
medium and, 207
merging type and, 244
metaphor and, 238
narrative, 234
naturalistic, 200
nonpictorial, 202
painted, 210
photographic, 208, 223
pictorial, 198
presentation of, 221
realness of, 220
reductive approach to, 198, 212
representation of, 221
rhythm, 247
rule about, 16, 312
semantic gaps, 235
semiology, 197
signification modes, 199
silhouettes, 254
spatial interaction, 252
stylization, 200, 232
symbolic representation, 196
text interplay with, 236
top-down processing, 197
type and, 216, 236, 244, 253
vernacularism and appropriation of, 233
India
Ishan Khosla Design, 198
Umbrella Design, 27, 96, 97, 209
Infinito, 20, 46, 117, 173, 221, 257, 290
Interaction of Color (Albers), 84
Ireland
AAD, 141
Conor & David, 14, 67, 107, 304
Detail Design Studio, 97, 121
Ishan Khosla Design, 198
Isometric Studio, Inc., 88, 113, 121, 164, 248, 258, 274
Italy
Leonardo Sonnoli, 48, 51, 105, 117, 216, 271, 273
Victor Matik, 304
Viktormatic, 268
Itten, Johannes, 93

J
Japan
Helmut Schmid Design, 143, 177
Kenichi Tenaka, 73
Nam, 108, 225
Shinnoske Inc., 96
Ten-Do-Ten, 196
Jensen, John, 28
Jiwa, Natasha, 289
Jona Studio, 224
JRoss Design, 104, 177
Jury, David, 6

K
Kang, Hyosook, 271
Kang, Yoojung, 97, 110, 216
Kelty, Catrine, 34, 38
Kim, June, 75
Kim, Lloyd, 212
Kim, Minah, 121
Kim, Sohyun, 118
King 20G, 208
Klinger, Julia, 264
Ko, Daeun, 61, 268
Koot, Dennis, 307
Kunz, Willi, 5

L
L2M3, 66, 82, 137, 147, 281
La Boca, 201, 309
Laboratorio Secreto, 5, 24, 215
Law of Thirds, 62
layout organization
grids, 256
intuitive arrangement, 268
Lebanon, Raidy Printing Group, 199, 216
Lee, Euikyoung, 217
Lee, Hae Jin, 240, 272
Liao, Tien-Min, 13, 216, 220
Likens, John, 23, 229, 282
lines, 35, 37, 52, 187
Liv, Michelle, 57, 115, 239
Loewy, 10, 49, 51, 190, 235
Louise Fili Ltd., 106, 141
Lozach, Max, 306
LSD Space, 9, 10, 27, 29, 43, 91, 99, 166, 173, 190, 199, 201, 217, 228, 234, 236, 238, 257, 273
Luminous Design Group, 26, 47, 69, 134, 170, 191, 211, 216, 220, 233, 287

M
Made in Space, Inc., 36, 44, 121, 143
Makebardo, 29, 250, 287
Manual, 29, 53, 64, 66
Matik, Viktor, 304
McConnell, Robert, 81
meaning, foundations of, 82
Media Invia, 39
Mellegers, Adriaan, 177, 265
Metaklinika, 45, 70, 103, 187, 215, 225
metaphor, 238
Mexico
Anagrama, 23, 284
Esiete, 145
Mucho, 141, 181
Parametro, 34, 44
Parámetro Studio, 118, 125
Zoveck Estudio, 197
Meyer, Anna, 74
Milolosa, Krezimir, 311
minimalism rule, 10, 306
Mireldy, 130, 212
Mixer, 217, 228
modular grids, 258
Moltobureau, 28, 68, 143, 171, 217, 286
Monigle Associates, 73
Moore, Lesley, 15, 56, 83, 199, 238
Morales, Diego, 39
Mubien, 143, 221, 257
Mucho, 20, 43, 45, 115, 125, 141, 181, 209, 219, 239, 287
Munda Graphics, 76, 200
Munsell, Albert, 93
Mutabor, 16, 46, 72, 83

N
Nam, 108, 225
Naroska Design, 27, 35, 65
The National Grid, 306
near and far, 64
negative space, 57, 65
negative space rule, 10, 306
Netherlands
Adriaan Mellegers, 177, 265
Coma, 239, 259, 278, 312
Das Buro, 55
Dennis Koot, 307
Jona Studio, 224
Joris Van Aken, 310
Lesley Moore, 15, 56, 83, 199, 238
Marielle Van Genderen, 177, 265
Martin Oostra, 171
Ohyescoolgreat, 268, 273
Raf Vankampenhoudt, 310
Una (Amsterdam) Designers, 83, 128, 147
VBAT, 131, 275, 287
Vruchtflees, 79, 310
New Zealand
Fuman, 25, 46, 69, 130, 210, 227
Jonty Valentine, 306
Luke Wood, 306
Makebardo, 29, 250, 287
Max Lozach, 306
The National Grid, 306
Nine Design, 116
Northern Ireland, David Airey, 97, 103, 143, 199
Norway, Cobra, 22, 153, 193, 237, 246
Not From Here, 102

O
Ohayon, Debra, 216
Ohyescoolgreat, 268, 273
Okon, Marek, 16, 172
Oliver Munday Group, 197
Onlab, 25, 308
Oostra, Martin, 171
Order, 20, 201, 279
organization of layout
grids, 256
intuitive arrangement, 268
Ortag, Andreas, 158, 196, 246

P
P & W Design Consultants, 284
palette, 108
Paone Design Assocs., 11, 15, 28, 39, 63, 71, 75, 81, 90, 114, 118, 139, 144, 188, 216, 245, 247, 288
Parallax, 217, 233
Parametro, 34, 44
Parámetro Studio, 86, 118, 125
Park, Sunyoung, 28
Peopledesign, 8, 44, 63, 70, 89, 102, 131, 193, 250, 265
Peru, Infinito, 20, 46, 117, 221, 257, 290
Peterson, Erica, 207
Pettis Design, 28, 128, 210, 238
pictorial allusion, 272
Piscatello Design Centre, 31
plane, 36, 54
Podpunkt, 38, 151, 163, 170, 187, 191, 246, 257
Poland
Maciej Hajnrich, 230
Marta Gawin, 153, 164, 213, 247, 289
Podpunkt, 38, 151, 163, 170, 187, 191, 246, 257
portfolio, 299
Poulin + Morris, 25, 184, 228, 276
process (CMYK) color, 87, 127
project synthesis
order and sequence, 278
pace, 280
perspectives, 284
rules and variability, 286
scope, 276
visual language range, 290
visual system of, 274

Q
Qatar, VCU Qatar, 36, 192, 200, 245

R
Raidy Printing Group, 199, 216
Rambow, Gunter, 95, 118
Rand, Paul, 12
Red Canoe, 121, 254
Research Studios, 27, 101, 165, 187, 205, 224, 232
rhythm, 52, 67, 78, 247
Rock, Michael, 302
Romania, Grapefruit, 143
Roycroft Design, 47
rules of good design
about, 6
breaking the, 302
Russia, Andrew Gorkovenko, 23, 200
Ryan, Sean, 196

S
Sabotage Pkg, 173
Samara, Timothy, 8, 12, 17, 23, 35, 39, 41, 44, 49, 65, 92, 95, 97, 99, 107, 114, 123, 129, 145, 192,
202, 205, 209, 213, 216, 231, 244, 246, 249, 253, 258, 268, 285
Sawdust, 308
Schedler, Clemens Théobert, 159, 179, 205, 264, 275
Schmid, Helmut, 177
Sea Design, 105, 293
Self-Titled, 71, 105, 134, 219, 241, 285
semiotics, 5, 82, 197
Serbia
Jelena Drobac, 23, 99, 103, 143, 217
Metaklinika, 45, 70, 103, 187, 215, 225
Shao, Min, 201
Shinnoske Inc., 96
Shiromasa, Kiyoko, 115
Short, Christopher, 206
A-Side, 305
Simple, 30, 153
Slovakia, Hungry Studio (SK), 31, 33, 69, 146, 198
Slovenia, Diano & Co., 23, 185, 267
Sonnoli, Leonardo, 48, 51, 105, 117, 216, 271, 273
South Africa, Disturbance, 97, 207
South Korea, Sulki + Min, 8
space. see form and space
Spain
Astrid Stavro, 63
Astrid Stavro Group, 259
Astrid Stavro Studio, 135, 149, 169
Atipus, 14
Esiete, 63, 277, 282
Fiasco Design, 42
Folch Studio, 253
 Goñi Studio, 125, 219
Infinito, 173
LSD Space, 9, 10, 27, 29, 43, 91, 99, 166, 173, 190, 199, 201, 217, 228, 234, 236, 238, 257, 273
Manuel Estrada, 27, 143, 196, 208, 215, 217, 272
Mubien, 143, 221, 257
Mucho, 20, 43, 45, 115, 125, 209, 219, 239, 287
Parámetro Studio, 86
Studio Diego Feijoo, 54, 153, 227, 274
Toormix, 25, 78, 130, 141, 158, 179, 201, 223, 230, 237, 251, 268, 288
Spin, 76
Stavro, Astrid, 63
Stereotype Design, 12, 55, 233, 312
Stressdesign, 41
structure, 60
Struktur Design, 174
Studio Blue, 11, 61, 74, 98, 100, 121, 259
Studio Diego Feijoo, 54, 153, 227, 274
Studio International, 40, 76, 108, 236, 241
Studio Lesbeauxjours, 184
Studio Makgill, 218, 233
Studio Marvil, 46, 53, 169, 181, 293
Studio Network, 33
Studio New Work, 313
Studio Vie, 250
Studio Works, 21, 42, 245
Subcommunication, 109
Sulki + Min, 8
Sumioshi, Kiyotaka, 281
Superbüro, 209
Superscript, 305
Surany, Eva, 202
Surface, 27
Sweden
Bachgarde Design, 179, 187
Nine Design, 116
Swim Design, 100
Switzerland
Ludovic Balland, 165
Mixer, 217, 228
Superbüro, 209
Willi Kunz, 5
symmetry, 58
symmetry rule, 11, 307

T
Tasmania, For the People, 5, 16, 209, 211, 233, 241
Teig, Kristin, 34, 38
Tenaka, Kenichi, 73
Ten-Do-Ten, 196
tension, 50, 52, 55, 78
Tétier, Florence, 61, 222
text and image rule, 15, 311
texture, 42, 246
There, 45
Think Moto GMBH, 38, 51, 113, 286
Think Studio, 59, 109
thrust, 54, 57
tonal value rule, 13, 309
Toormix, 25, 78, 130, 141, 158, 179, 201, 223, 230, 237, 251, 268, 288
Tosetti, Régis, 225
totality, compositional, 70, 83, 95
Triboro Design, 44, 82, 164, 167
TSTO, 309
Turkey, 2Fresh, 215, 238
two-dimensionality, 22
two-dimensionality rule, 12, 308
type
alignment, 152, 168
allusive structures, 272
analphabetic symbols, 162
apertures, 142
archetype, 134
ascenders, 142
axes, 142
bowls, 142
brackets, 161, 163
branches, 143
bullets, 162
cadence, 135
caps and small caps, 162
case, 135
characters, 134
color hierarchy, 188
color value, 246
columns, 158, 160
combining styles, 148
contrast, 135, 182
counters, 134
cut, 134
descenders, 142
detail, 142
diminishing contrast, 190
distinction, 180
eyes, 142
flush, 152
font families, 134
full-bleed images and, 255
gaps, 160
graphic detail, 140, 143, 186
grids and, 261
hierarchy, 174, 176, 188
images and, 216, 236, 244, 253
indentation, 159, 160
as information, 174
inset images, 253
instructions, 174
italics, 161
joints, 143
justification, 156
lead lines, 162
legibility of, 150
line breaks, 159, 160
lists, 174
mass, 168
mathematical symbols, 162
merging images and, 244
navigation, 186
notations, 174
numerals, 134
as optical experience, 164
orphans, 160
paragraph separation, 159
parentheses, 161, 163
posture, 135
primary text, 174
punctuation, 162, 167
rag (range), 152
ragging the text, 154
rhythm, 245, 246, 247
sans-serif, 136, 140
scales of contrast, 182
secondary text, 174
serif, 136, 140, 143
shape, 244, 246, 247
shoulders, 142
silhouetted images and, 254
sizes, 136
slab serif, 140
 spacing, 138, 161
spatial interaction, 252
spurs, 143
structure, 134, 142, 176, 243, 246, 247
stroke, 134., 143
style classification and detail, 135, 140
subheads, 162
subscript and superscript, 162
tables, 174
terminals, 143
tertiary text, 174
text-based grids, 261
texture, 246, 247
titling, 174
typeface function, 144
typeface tone, 146
typographic color, 165, 172, 178-179, 246
unity, 180
value, 246, 247
voids, 168
weight, 135
width, 135
widows, 160
wrapping, 163
x-height, 134, 136, 142
type and typeface rules, 14, 310
Typography (Kunz), 5

U
Ukraine, Moltobureau, 143
Umbrella Design, 27, 96, 97, 209
Una (Amsterdam) Designers, 83, 128, 147
UnderConsideration, 300
United Kingdom
Ascend Studio, 44, 55, 58, 63, 70, 73, 173, 179, 187, 290
B & B Studio, 5, 112
Barnbrook, 82
Big Active, 222
Billie Jean, 211
CHK Design, 152
Coralie Bickford-Smith, 17, 43, 112, 197
Fiasco Design, 16, 36, 232, 287
Form, 45, 54
Hyatt Assocs., 213
King 20G, 208
La Boca, 201, 309
 Loewy, 10, 49, 51, 190, 235
P & W Design Consultants, 284
Régis Tosetti, 225
Research Studios, 27, 101, 165, 187, 205, 224, 232
Sabotage Pkg, 173
Sawdust, 308
Sea, 293
Sea Design, 105
A-Side, 305
Spin, 76
Struktur Design, 174
Studio Makgill, 218, 233
United States
& Walsh, 292
Alexandra Vitale, 124
Ames Bros., 210, 232
Ben Grandgenett, 312
Brett Yasko, 129, 157, 236
C & G Partners, 16
C + G Partners, 34, 47, 137, 217
Cardon Webb, 24, 231
Catherine Casalino, 220
Catrine Kelty, 34, 38
C. Harvey Graphic Design, 59, 149
Cheng Design, 40, 158
Christine Chuo, 172
Christopher Short, 206
Cyr Studio, 198, 206
Daeun Ko, 61, 268
Deborah Gruber, 217
Debra Ohayon, 216
Declan Zimmerman, 250, 255
Design Ranch, 283
Diana Hurd, 86
Drotz Design, 99
Earsay, 173
Erica Peterson, 207
Ethan Hayes, 241
Euikyoung Lee, 217
Eva Surany, 202
Greg Falconi, 212
Gretel, 46, 76, 167, 209, 214, 227, 240, 251
Hae Jin Lee, 240, 272
Helena Wang, 103, 255
Hyosook Kang, 271
Ideas on Purpose, 51, 70, 97, 137, 167, 185, 186, 208, 259, 299
Isometric Studio, Inc., 88, 113, 121, 164, 248, 258, 274
Janet Hansen, 146, 199, 241
Jessie Gang, 82
Jil Guyon, 244
John Jensen, 28
John Likens, 23, 229, 282
JRoss Design, 104, 177
June Kim, 75
Kate Hoover, 252
Kelly Chew, 226
Kim Foster, 185
Kiyoka Shiromasa, 115
Kiyotaka Sumioshi, 281
Kristin Teig, 34, 38
Lloyd Kim, 212
Louise Fili Ltd., 106, 141
Lucy Xin, 155
Made in Space, Inc., 36, 44, 121, 143
Manual, 29, 53, 64, 66
Michelle Liv, 57, 115, 239
Minah Kim, 121
Min Shao, 201
Monigle Associates, 73
Myung Ha Chang, 193
Natasha Jiwa, 289
Not From Here, 102
Oliver Munday Group, 197
Order, 20, 201, 279
Paone Design Assocs., 11, 15, 28, 39, 63, 71, 75, 81, 90, 114, 118, 139, 144, 188, 216, 245, 247,
288
And Partners, 203
Peopledesign, 8, 44, 63, 70, 89, 102, 131, 193, 250, 265
Pettis Design, 28, 128, 210, 238
Piscatello Design Centre, 31
Poulin + Morris, 25, 184, 228, 276
Red Canoe, 121, 254
Robert McConnell, 81
Roycroft Design, 47
Sang Zhang, 31, 56, 89
Sean Ryan, 196
Sohyun Kim, 118
Sooim Heo, 217
Steff Geissbuhler, 214
Stereotype Design, 12, 55, 233, 312
Stressdesign, 41
Studio Blue, 11, 61, 74, 98, 100, 121, 259
 Studio Network, 33
Studio New Work, 313
Studio Works, 21, 42, 245
Sunyoung Park, 28
Swim Design, 100
Tammy Chang, 172
Think Studio, 59, 109
Tien-Min Liao, 13, 216, 220
Timothy Samara, 8, 12, 17, 23, 35, 39, 41, 44, 49, 65, 92, 95, 97, 99, 107, 114, 123, 129, 145, 192,
202, 205, 209, 213, 216, 231, 244, 246, 249, 253, 258, 268, 285
Triboro Design, 44, 82, 164, 167
UnderConsideration, 300
Vera Gorbunova, 149
Wallace Church, 206, 208
Yong Choi, 247
Yoojung Kang, 97, 110, 216
Youjin Choi, 22, 24, 69
Zipeng Zhu, 197
Zooba Team, 292
unity enforcement, 74
universality rule, 9, 305

V
Valentine, Jonty, 306
Van Aken, Joris, 310
Van Genderen, Marielle, 177, 265
Vankampenhoudt, Raf, 310
VBAT, 131, 275, 287
VCU Qatar, 36, 192, 200, 245
Viktormatic, 268
visual hierarchy, 80
visual language
decisiveness, 32
definition, 20
figure/ground reversals, 28, 26
qualities of, 30
refinement, 33
resolution, 33
space and, 22
syntax and grammar of, 21
visual logic and, 30
visual systems, 274
visual voice rule, 9, 305
Vit, Armin, 300
Vitale, Alexandra, 124
Voice, 41, 47, 49, 63, 99, 168, 211, 225, 244
Von-K, 264
Von K Brand Design Studio, 47, 71, 101
Vruchtflees, 79, 310

W
Wang, Helena, 103, 255
Webb, Cardon, 24, 231
Wedge, 268
white space. see negative space
Wood, Luke, 306
working process
branding practices, 298
career paths, 298
dimensional practices, 298
fees, 299
implementation, 295
multidisciplinary practices, 298
portfolio creation, 299
practice models, 298
print, 298
radiant media, 298
research and strategy, 294
revisions and refinement, 295
self-promotion, 299
studio setup, 299
typeface design, 299
visual concept development, 294

X
Xin, Lucy, 155

Y
Yasko, Brett, 129, 157, 236

Z
Zhang, Sang, 31, 56, 89
Zhu, Zipeng, 197
Zimmerman, Declan, 250, 255
Zooba Team, 292
Zoveck Estudio, 197
Zumstein, Megi, 306
CONTRIBUTORS
& WALSH
ANDWALSH.COM
292

2 FRESH
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215, 238

2XGOLDSTEIN
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139, 313

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305

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116, 204

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97, 103, 143, 199

AKU
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218, 240

AMES BROS.
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210, 232

ANAGRAMA
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23, 284

AND PARTNERS
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203

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27, 143, 207

ARIANE SPANIER DESIGN

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44, 55, 58, 63, 70, 73, 173, 179, 187, 290

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63, 135, 149, 169, 259

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5, 112

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179, 187

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[email protected]
17, 43, 112, 197
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YONG CHOI
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CHRISTINE CHUO
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FINEST MAGMA
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147, 217, 237, 255, 311

FOLCH STUDIO
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253

FOR THE PEOPLE

FORTHEPEOPLE.AGENCY
4, 16, 209, 211, 233, 241, 288

FORM
FORM.UK.COM
45, 54

KIM FOSTER
C/O SCHOOL OF VISUAL ARTS
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125, 219

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46, 76, 167, 209, 214, 227, 240, 251
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CLAUDIO BARANDUN)
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[email protected]
252

HUNGRY STUDIO (SK)

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31, 33, 69, 146, 198

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86
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HYATTASSOCIATES.CO.UK
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IDEAS ON PURPOSE
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51, 70, 97, 137, 167, 185, 186, 208, 259, 299

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C/O UNIVERSITY OF THE ARTS
UARTS.EDU
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ROYCROFT DESIGN
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SEAN RYAN
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SABOTAGE PKG
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TIMOTHY SAMARA
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8, 12, 17, 23, 35, 39, 41, 44, 49, 65, 92, 95, 97, 99, 107, 114, 123, 129, 145, 183, 192, 202, 205, 209,
213, 216, 231, 244, 246, 249, 253, 258, 269, 285, 296, 297

SAWDUST
SAWDUST.CO.UK
308

CLEMENS THÉOBERT SCHEDLER

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159, 179, 205, 264, 275

SEA
SEADESIGN.CO.UK
105, 293

SELF-TITLED
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71, 105, 134, 219, 241, 285

MIN SHAO
C/O UNIVERSITY OF THE ARTS
UARTS.EDU
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SHINNOSKE, INC.
SHINN.CO.JP
96

KIYOKO SHIROMASA
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115

CHRISTOPHER SHORT
CHRISSHORT.COM
206

SIMPLE
INTEGRATED MARKETING
SIMPLE.COM.AU
30, 153

LEONARDO SONNOLI
SONNOLI.COM
48, 51, 105, 117, 216, 271, 273

SPIN
SPIN.CO.UK
76

STEREOTYPE DESIGN
STEREOTYPE-DESIGN.COM
12, 55, 233, 312

STRESSDESIGN
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STRUKTUR DESIGN
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174

STUDIO BLUE
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STUDIO DIEGO FEIJOO

DFEIJOO.COM
54, 153, 227, 274

STUDIO INTERNATIONAL
STUDIO-INTERNATIONAL.COM
40, 76, 108, 236, 241

STUDIO JONA
STUDIOJONA.NL
224

STUDIO LESBEAUJOURS
LESBEAUJOURS.FR
184

STUDIO MAKGILL
STUDIOMAKGILL.COM
218, 233

STUDIO MARVIL
MARVIL.CZ
46, 53, 169, 181, 293

STUDIO NEW WORK

STUDIONEWWORK.COM
33, 313
STUDIO VIE
STUDIOVIE.NET
250

STUDIO WORKS
STUDIO-WORKS.COM
21, 42, 245

SUBCOMMUNICATION
SUBCOMMUNICATION.COM
109

SULKI+MIN
SULKI-MIN.COM
8

KIYOTAKA SUMIYOSHI
C/O PARSONS SCHOOL
OF DESIGN
NEWSCHOOL.EDU/PARSONS
281

SUPERBÜRO
SUPERBUERO.CH
209

SUPERSCRIPT
SUPER-SCRIPT.COM
305

EVA SURANY
C/O UNIVERSITY OF THE ARTS
UARTS.EDU
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SURFACE
SURFACEGRAFIK.DE
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SWIM DESIGN
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100

KRISTIN TEIG + CATRINE KELTY

WEBSITE.COM
34, 38

KENICHI TENAKA
KENICHI-DESIGN.COM
73

TEN-DO-TEN
TENTENTEN.NET
196

FLORENCE TÉTIER
FLORENCETETIER.COM
61, 222

THE LUXURY OF PROTEST

THELUXURYOFPROTEST.COM
51

THE NATIONAL GRID

THENATIONALGRID.CO.NZ
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THERE
THERE.COM.AU
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THINK MOTO GMBH

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THINK STUDIO
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TOORMIX
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RÉGIS TOSETTI STUDIO

REGISTOSETTI.CH
225, 307

TRIBORO DESIGN
TRIBORO-DESIGN.COM
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TSTO
TSTO.ORG
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UMBRELLA DESIGN
UMBRELLADESIGN.IN
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UNA [AMSTERDAM]
DESIGNERS
UNADESIGNERS.NL
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UNDER CONSIDERATION, LLC

UNDERCONSIDERATION.COM
300–301

RAF VANCAMPENHOUDT +
JORIS VAN AKEN
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ADRIAAN MELLEGERS
MARIELLEVANGENDEREN.NL
ADRIAANMELLEGERS.COM
177, 265

VBAT
VBAT.COM
131, 275, 287

VIKTOR MATIC
VIKTORMATIC.COM
268, 269, 304

VIRGINIA COMMONWEALTH UNIVERSITY (VCU) QATAR

QATAR.VCU.EDU
36, 192, 200, 245

ALEXANDRA VITALE
ALEXANDRAVITALE.COM
124

VOICE
VOICEDESIGN.NET
41, 47, 49, 63, 99, 168, 211, 225, 244

VON K BRAND DESIGN STUDIO

VON-K.COM
47, 71, 101, 264

VRUCHTFLEES
VRUCHTFLEES.COM
79, 310
WALLACE CHURCH, INC.
WALLACECHURCH.COM
206, 208

HELENA WANG
C/O PARSONS SCHOOL
OF DESIGN
NEWSCHOOL.EDU/PARSONS
103, 255

CARDON WEBB
CARDONWEBB.COM
24, 231

WEDGE
WEDGE.WORK
268

LUCY XÍN
LUCYXIN.COM
155

BRETT YASKO
BRETTYASKO.COM
129, 157, 236

SANG ZHANG
SANG-ZHANG.COM
31, 56, 89

DECLAN ZIMMERMAN
HTTP://MOTIONGRAPHICSNYC.COM
250, 255

ZIPENG ZHU
ZZ-IS.IT
197

ZOVECK ESTUDIO
ZOVECK.COM
197
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Timothy Samara is a New York-based graphic designer who splits his time
between professional practice and teaching; he is a frequent lecturer and
contributor to design publications both in the U.S. and abroad. Samara has
written ten books on design that have been translated into ten languages and
are used by educators, students and practitioners around the world.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Assembling material for a book of this kind depends on the good will of so
many busy people. My sincere thanks to all of the contributors who
collected examples of their work for consideration, for their suggestions,
and for their great encouragement.
I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the efforts of the team at
Rockport, whose diligence and patience can not be overstated: Thank you,
Anne, Cora, Joy, Regina, and Renae. And last, but certainly not least, I
would like to thank my partner Sean, my family, and all my friends for their
support.
© 2020 Quarto Publishing Group USA Inc.
s
Text © Quarto Publishing Group USA Inc.
Images © 2020 Credited Contributors

First published in 2020 by Rockport Publishers,

an imprint of The Quarto Group,
100 Cummings Center, Suite 265-D, Beverly, MA 01915, USA.
T (978) 282-9590 F (978) 283-2742 QuartoKnows.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission
of the copyright owners. All images in this book have been reproduced with the knowledge and prior
consent of the artists concerned, and no responsibility is accepted by producer, publisher, or printer
for any infringement of copyright or otherwise, arising from the contents of this publication. Every
effort has been made to ensure that credits accurately comply with information supplied. We
apologize for any inaccuracies that may have occurred and will resolve inaccurate or missing
information in a subsequent reprinting of the book.

Rockport Publishers titles are also available at discount for retail, wholesale, promotional, and bulk
purchase. For details, contact the Special Sales Manager by email at [email protected] or by
mail at The Quarto Group, Attn: Special Sales Manager, 100 Cummings Center, Suite 265-D,
Beverly, MA 01915, USA.

Digital edition: 978-1-63159-873-9

Softcover edition: 978-1-63159-872-2

Digital edition published in 2020

Originally found under the following Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Samara, Timothy.
Design elements : a graphic style manual : understanding the rules and knowing when to break them /
Timothy Samara.
p. cm.
ISBN-13: 978-1-59253-261-2 (flexibind)
ISBN-10: 1-59253-261-6 (flexibind)
1. Graphic design (Typography) 2. Layout (Printing) I. Title.
Z246 .S225
686.2’2—dc22
2006019038
CIP

Design: Timothy Samara

Page Layout: Timothy Samara