MICHAEL BIERUT: Thank you
so much for having me here.
I'm sort of just warming you up
for Salman Rushdie, I suppose.
I'm less significant
in every possible way.
But we have a nice, intimate
the little space to talk.
I'm a graphic designer.
That's my name,
my Twitter thing.
That's me on Easter Sunday,
1969, in suburban Cleveland,
Ohio, which is where I grew up.
That's my mom and
dad, obviously,
and those are my
younger brothers,
who are fraternal twins.
Their names are
Ronald and Donald.
They have rhyming names, OK?
That explains
everything you need
to know about what it
was like to grow up
in suburban Cleveland
in the '60s.
My mom doesn't
understand why that's
funny to give kids--
they're twins.
Was I supposed to give them
completely unrelated names?
It's a naming problem.
At a very early age,
I realized I wanted
to be a graphic designer.
I was good at art, but art
always seemed kind of hermetic
to me.
Artists went off
to, as I imagined,
they went, like to garrets
or studios or closed rooms,
then just would do
paintings and things,
and then sometimes would die.
Then their paintings
would be discovered.
Sometimes the paintings would
be sold in their lifetime.
But it just seemed
like coming up
with ideas for paintings
just seemed really hard.
When I realized there was
this other thing called
graphic design that, in effect,
was being creative as a means
to another end, I thought
it was really exciting.
And I can still
remember the first time
I saw a piece of graphic
design that really excited me.
I was probably maybe
eight or nine years old.
I was being driven by
my dad to get a haircut.
We were stopped at
a traffic light.
And my dad looked over to the
passenger side of the car where
I was sitting and
looked out the window,
and saw a piece of
industrial equipment
called a forklift truck.
Do they have those here?
They do that, right?
And he said, oh look,
that's really clever.
And I looked at the
truck, and I said, what?
He said, the way they wrote
the name of the truck.
And on the side of the
truck it said Clark.
And I said, why?
And he said, well, look.
It does what the truck does.
And so he said, look how
the L is lifting up the A.
And I was like, oh my god.
Is this happening
all over the place?
Are these things everywhere?
And so at that moment,
I sort realized
that something about
that-- it was like art,
it was like
creativity, but it had
nothing to do with painting a
bowl of fruit, like Cezanne,
or some women with their noses
sideways, like Picasso, or just
splattering paint
like Jackson Pollock.
This is like, our name is Clark.
We make forklift trucks.
What do you got?
It just occurred to me.
The L can lift up the A.
So I just thought, if I could
do that for the rest my life,
I'd be happy.
And I have, and I am.
So I'm with you today.
Here I am at Google.
Thank you.
So I'm just going to show you
one project that I worked on.
And you guys recently
changed your logo, which
I like very much, by the way.
I was really early out
of the box in Twitter
and said something like,
this is really good.
And it was one of the few
really impulsive things
I've ever done on Twitter.
And then journalists
started calling me up
to get me to weigh in
publicly about the logo.
But I've designed logos that
other people of weighed in
publicly on.
And I'm sort of-- I don't think
everyone should be weighing
in publicly about logos.
And a lot of times I sort of
think if-- back in the '60s,
there was a little private
moment between me and my dad.
Very private.
If my dad was drinking a beer
with our next door neighbor,
and he had brought up that
logo with another adult,
that guy would have
thought he was insane.
You know what I really like?
What do you like, Lenny?
That logo for Clark
Forklift Trucks.
Ever seen it?
Like my next door neighbor
would be like, what the fuck?
What?
So people didn't talk
about logos in these days.
They talk about them all
the time now, don't they?
I mean, you put
out a logo and all
of a sudden it's like
people are analyzing it.
I don't know if you read
"The New Yorker" over here.
But some lady in
"The New Yorker"
wrote this nostalgic poem about
how beautiful the old Google
logo was, which
personally, I just
thought that was preposterous.
She was saying,
oh, the serifs were
referring to centuries
of literary tradition,
and now it's all
been sanded away.
I just think the way
that all the O's line
up on in the search thing is
just-- it's all very nice.
So at any rate, I'm going to
going to show you something
that I worked on.
And it's something that
actually came out very well,
but had false starts
along the way.
So for the first
time anywhere, I'm
showing the first thing that we
proposed, which was rejected.
I've never shown this before.
The thing that was accepted
is, I think, still on view
as part of Designs of the
Year at the Design Museum
here in London.
But the rejected thing
has never been shown
publicly outside of the client.
So here you go.
Oh, this is for this book.
And so what I really
find interesting
is how design is about solving
problems and doing things.
And so it's art or creativity
for a purpose, right?
So the purpose has to do
with how you do something.
And when I'm working
with a client,
the first thing I try
to do is figure out
what they're trying to solve
and how to solve it, basically.
OK.
So this was actually the end,
about designing two dozen logos
at the same time.
So the client is
the MIT Media Lab.
You guys know what that is?
It's Massachusetts
Institute of Technology.
In 1985, or 19-- I'm
trying to do the math here.
It was the 20th
anniversary in 1910,
so 1990-- I thought
it was 1985--
celebrated their anniversary.
And they had been started
at MIT to sort of explore
where media and technology
could all meet up.
It's actually a
couple of buildings
that house a bunch
of small research
groups, two dozen little
research groups that
more or less have free
rein to just explore
whatever they want.
On the occasion of
the anniversary,
this wonderful new
identity system
was created by a guy who
was then at the Media Lab
named Richard Tay.
Then he came to Google.
I think he might still be
at Google in California.
He's a great, great,
great designer.
And if you don't know
what that looked like,
this is what it was.
And the trick with
this was, that thing
you see there was just one
permutation of the logo.
He had written an
algorithm or something,
or someone wrote some algorithm.
You guys all know
what algorithms are.
I use that word a lot.
I really don't
know what it means.
I went to art school
so I didn't have
to take anything beyond
Algebra II in high school.
I apologize.
You can kick me out
now if you want.
So within that system,
there's a bunch of squares.
And then those
squares have colors
that extrude off the squares.
And then it makes 40,000,
supposedly, different versions
of that thing, OK?
So it's really-- I
thought was really cool.
I saw this thing and I was like,
that's really, really cool.
I wish I'd done that.
To my surprise, the
founder of the lab,
Nicholas Negroponte,
called me up and said, hey,
could you design a
logo for the Media Lab?
And I said, but you have a logo.
He said, what do you mean?
I said, that thing that
Richard Tay did with the 40,000
different versions.
He said, oh, you know,
that's not really a logo.
That was a thing
for the anniversary.
We want a logo logo.
And I wasn't sure what
he even meant by that.
So I went up to
Cambridge, Massachusetts,
where MIT is, where the
Media Lab is, and we
had a series of meetings.
And I finally figured out
what he was talking about.
I met with some other
people up there.
And yet I sort of
really-- I actually
met with Richard and
[? Rune, ?] another designer.
The two of them had
actually done that system.
And I said look, they've asked
me to mess with this thing
and I don't want
to mess with it.
So give me some advice.
So I met with them to
understand what they were doing
and to see what the
whole system was.
So I'm just going to show
you the presentation I did
for the first time we did it.
This is the thing I've
never shown anyone before.
OK.
So the Media Lab
actually has a history
based on the architecture of
the original building, which
is by IM Pei.
And then in the IM
Pei building, there
was a couple of
art installations
that a designer named
Jacqueline Casey riffed on.
See all these little
stripey things?
So she created this identity
that had little stripey things,
see?
So that was her idea.
So everyone's business
card had a different bunch
of stripes on them.
So this idea of everything kind
of being the same but different
was already there right
back at the very beginning.
It was the 25th
anniversary, not the 20th.
The 25th anniversary,
Richard and his team
did something based
on a new building
that the Japanese
architect Maki did for them
that was-- in addition to
the Pei building, the IM Pei
building.
And this shows a little
bit of that in action,
if you can see that.
So the good qualities of that
are that it sort of extends
that original identity in a way
that I thought was thoughtful.
It's a metaphor for
the new building,
because the building
had atriums,
and it sort of did
stuff like that.
And the last one,
it sort of was just
a demonstration of how ingenious
and innovative and imaginative
the MIT Media Lab was.
However, the shortcomings
were-- as I finally
got them figured
out-- it sort of is
very-- what's the word for it?
It's a look at me sort of logo.
It kind of like
demands attention.
And part of the issue
they have is that all
these other-- they have all
these other things going
on there that like to be
the protagonist as well.
So here's this other
thing that really
is supposed to just be kind
of signing off or endorsing
those things, but it's very
active and clever for that.
And then it has this
entropic sort of thing.
And entropy is another thing
I'm not sure I fully understand.
But as I understand it, it has
do with the general dissipation
of energy over time.
So those 40,000 different
versions, I actually
talked to the person who
was head of marketing.
I said, well, how do you
decide which of the 40,000
different versions to use?
If someone says, send me your
logo, what do you send them?
She said, oh, I just send the
same one over and over again.
So they sort of-- it's tiring to
manage 40,000 different logos.
And I said, do
people think, well,
this logo is better for this?
No.
The thing that makes
them great, the fact
that they're all sort
of the same and equal,
actually makes
them not work well
to distinguish meaningfully any
of the activities of the lab.
And then also, it's really
hard to look at that thing,
particularly when it's changing
all the time, and think,
oh, when you see that,
think MIT Media Lab.
So it needs a name with it.
So we said we would
figure out a way
to do something that recognized
the legacy of the lab,
make it a little bit
stronger and louder,
and come up with a
way that would let
it work with everything else.
So remember this grid.
This is the grid that
underlies Richard Tay's system.
We started with that grid.
And then we decided we would
build this alphabet from that.
So every one of these letters,
M-I-T- M-E-A-D-I-A-L-A-B,
are all based on that
basic configuration.
So I thought, this is nice.
We're sort of paying a little
homage to the 25th anniversary
thing.
And then you get something like
that on one line, or like that.
Now look carefully
at that, because this
is-- when we went up to show
this to Nicholas Negroponte
the first time, he said,
oh, you almost got it.
And I'm like, what?
And he said, oh, this
is all you have to do.
So I'll show you in a second.
He said, just take
away those two things.
Then it's a perfect square.
And I said, but-- and
he said, no, it still
says MIT Media Lab.
It's like MIT Media Lab.
So this is why he's the
head of the Media Lab,
or the founder of the
Media Lab, and I'm
just a vendor, basically.
So it almost works, I think.
And you can sort of
make it-- so but this
is the thing I liked the best.
You kind of could
take that thing,
and then superimpose
the other thing on it,
and it sort of seemed
to kind of have
the same basic underlying DNA.
I liked that part of it.
So then we did a bunch of little
animations to show, really,
it's there, right?
Or maybe you prefer this one,
MIT Media Lab or something.
Or-- cute.
Or-- this is
everyone's favorite.
Voila.
OK.
So then from those
eight letters,
it's really easy to
extrapolate the whole alphabet.
And so then we said, you can
do everything in that alphabet,
and hurray.
And so see how it
says Mediated Matter?
That's one of those two
dozen research groups
they have there.
And Molecular Machines, Opera
of the Future, Social Computing,
Synthetic Neurobiology
, et cetera, et cetera,
all written in
the same typeface.
And stationery, business cards.
You can have a
square business card.
As long as you're not
going to be practical,
why not have a
square business card?
Custom roll tape, posters,
presentation slides.
So these are just
quick sketches we had
done to kind of sell this idea.
And you see it becomes like
a pattern in the background.
For some reason, I've got a
designer who just-- I've never
seen him wearing cufflinks,
but I think he just fantasizes
this world of important
people who are always
like mafiosa, kind of like
wearing cufflinks that
needs logos on them.
And then he has that
piece of base art
and he knows how to
Photoshop on it, I think.
That lady with the button.
So that was that, right?
OK.
So communicates the name,
flexible and neutral,
builds on the current symbol.
But Nicholas and his is guys
couldn't-- they presented this.
I was never there for
the presentations.
He said, OK, it's up to
us to kind of convince
all our colleagues, the faculty
and the staff and everyone,
and get excited about this.
And he couldn't put it over.
They wouldn't accept it
as the right solution.
I actually think
the thing that he
saw in it, that crazy thing
where the 11 became nine, just
somehow is just one of those
cases where it's a square peg,
and the hole is almost
square, but not quite.
And you just think, give me
another hammer, and you go,
bang!
And it's still-- all you guys
have been in that situation,
I assume.
And sooner or later you
realize that it just
isn't going to work.
And they're a wonderful client.
They're just so
great to work with.
They're so trusting
and supportive.
So they said, you know, let us
think about this for a while.
We're just going
to take a pause.
Then about a year later,
they called me back
and they said, OK.
We want to try again.
And we want to do something
really clear and simple.
Forget about anything
that came before.
What would you do if you
could do anything you wanted?
To And I actually
dread that question.
You know, I became a
graphic designer, remember,
specifically because I
don't want to do anything.
I want people to come to me and
say, I have a forklift truck.
Our name is Clark.
What do you got?
And I say C-L-A, got it!
But if they say, we
don't have anything.
We have nothing.
What do you got?
I'm like, what do you
mean, what do you got?
What do you got?
So they said, go for it.
What do you have?
So we came up with
this thing instead.
So this was basically what
we presented the second time.
So there's something really
interesting about MIT
in that it has two
Titanic figures
in American graphic
design, at least,
this lady Jacqueline Casey
and this lady Muriel Cooper.
Muriel Cooper,
along with Nicholas,
was one of the
co-founders of Media Lab.
Jacqueline Casey was the lead
graphic designer for decades.
Really remarkable.
Two women in a
over-the-top, high tech,
quintessential American east
coast high tech environment.
And they basically
defined the way
that MIT looked for decades,
through the '60s and '70s,
into the '80s.
Interestingly enough--
usually I ask,
are there any graphic
designers here, or people
who know about design at all?
Thank you.
So name some
typefaces, et cetera.
I'm not going to get
too deep into that.
But Jackie Casey, as
much as anyone else,
introduced Helvetica
to the United States.
Other people get
the credit for it.
She actually played
a big role in it.
Here's some of the
posters she was doing back
in the '60s and '70s.
Very influenced by
European design.
These are really
visionary, cool things.
Muriel Cooper,
this is early stuff
she did about manipulating
type and data in 3D space,
that she really made the
reputation of her students
and the early days of
the Media Lab based on.
And so they're both brilliant,
brilliant designers.
And note that thing there.
That was by Muriel Cooper.
She did that in the early '60s.
If you don't know it, I
bet it's in here somewhere.
That's the mark for MIT Press.
She did that, I think,
in '62, I believe.
And imagine how hard
this was to sell in '62.
I will now explain to you
why this says MIT Press.
M-I-T-P. But it also looks
like books on a shelf.
Also, it looks kind of
digital in some vague way.
And there are sketches
showing, OK, I'll
put a dot there, cross
that, close that up.
Are you happy now?
But luckily she talked them
into doing something abstract.
And this thing has been
around now since '62.
And they said, we want
something like that.
Not 40,000 versions,
not something that
has to be blah, blah, blah.
We want something
that's that simple, OK?
OK.
Easy.
Now I asked what you wanted.
Now they tell me
what they wanted.
Thanks, guys.
So first we sort of
looked at the way
you could write the name.
The full name, abbreviated.
Then we looked at--
when we you this sort
of work, you generate
lots of stuff like this.
I think of some of these
are interestingly bad.
Some of them are just bad.
Some of them are boringly
bad or predictably bad.
I don't know, they're
really problematic.
We did a lot of those things.
Then finally, almost
guiltily, I said,
remember that seven
by seven grid we had?
Maybe there's something
we could do with that.
So we thought, OK, if we
sort of combined a letter
for-- like M and L with the
words MIT Media Lab-- maybe we
could start with that thing.
Remember that we were told
not to worry about that thing
any more, but I was
still obsessed with it.
Underneath it, remember is this
49-unit grid, seven by seven.
So if you-- remember, we
built all these letters off it
before.
All's we need now are two
letters, an M and an L. There's
the M, there's the L. Makes
an overall kind of L for lab,
which is what they
call it for sure.
Put MIT Media Lab next to it.
So that seemed
interesting enough.
And then I remember-- I have a
young man working for me named
Aron Fay who's really great.
And I'd like to take full
credit for everything
you see right now at
the Design Museum,
and the Designs of
the Year exhibition.
I vaguely remember
saying, you know,
it would be cool if we used
the same system to do logos
for all the research
groups at the Media Lab.
And it was Friday.
And I said, have a nice weekend.
Then I walked out.
And I came in on Monday.
Here's those groups.
And Aaron said, I
think I got something.
And what he had was a
logo for each of them,
built on the same scheme.
See, there's an A and a C
for Affective Computing,
a B for Biomechanics, CC, Camera
Culture, CP, Changing Places,
Civic Media, Design Fiction,
Fluid Interfaces, all the way
through.
And what was cool about this was
they all sort of went together.
But it was like a bunch
of different logos.
They all go together like
the previous schemes.
But this time, each
of those groups
can grab one of these
things and sort of
think they've got it made.
And not only that, but there
are lots of different ways,
once you've established
the rule set
for how you make these,
the underlying grid,
you can rotate the things.
Each of these could be a
different version, actually.
So then we did this
little animation for it.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
Voila.
So OK.
So that one worked.
They liked that one.
Thank you.
The reason it worked
was that I think
it struck a balance
between a central theme
and the variations.
The variations were sufficient
to help each of those research
groups engender a sense
of esprit de corps,
but the central theme helped
them feel unified that they're
all about one big idea,
which is the innovation that
is enabled by the environment
created by the Media Lab
overall.
And what was really
cool about it--
and I think what people miss
when they focus on G-O-O-G-L-E,
and the way it's
written in the new logo,
is that that actually is really
an extension and an embodiment
of the overall design language,
that material design language
that you guys have
been developing.
And I think it
all fits together.
And I think when
this sort of thing
works the best-- I don't know
if Clark Forklift Trucks has
a whole design language
that goes with that logo--
but I think you guys definitely
have an integrated design
language that can help people
answer all kinds of questions,
not just where do
I put the logo,
or what does it look like,
but how do I solve this?
How do I design this little
part of a bigger product?
How does that product fit
in with something else?
I think good design can tell
you how things go together
and give you a characteristic
way to make everything appear.
So what was really
nice about this,
it gave us this kind of like
coherent design language.
I remember when it was
getting ready to launch,
people said-- we did an
alphabet with it, too.
We kind like updated that old
alphabet, did an icon system.
So this is the Maki building.
See, there's an M
on that elevator,
an L on that elevator.
When the elevators
are on the same floor
it sort of makes the logo.
We redid the signage
in their buildings.
So then you can take the
ingredients of the logo
and upend it to kind of
have an arrow pointing up.
It's very low tech.
It's like a 49-bit
logo, in a way.
But I sort of thought,
the only thing that's
timeless-- this is sort of the
equivalent of doing a cube out
of marble as a sculpture.
It's not going to change.
It's going to endure.
It can't be made--
it's not going
to look any more old fashioned
than it looks today, because it
already looks old fashioned.
And so they have a lot of
screen-based communications.
It works lovely as a pattern.
When different labs
share the same area,
they can put a sign like that.
And then if you ever go--
anyone ever been there?
If you go there, they
sort of-- it's open plan,
and they have lots of
tours coming through.
And the groups will put up
a sign to say who they are
and what they do.
Lots of media stuff like this.
Kind of simple way of,
like, being inside the logo,
if you work there.
Boulders, floor plans,
[INAUDIBLE], posters.
Oh, and then when two groups
collaborate on something,
they can superimpose
their things
and get some new hybrid thing.
They launched the new
identity at an event
they had there for
their community
that they titled
"Deploy," partly,
I think, in honor
of the new logo,
but because of other
things as well.
And so you see it says
D-E-P-L-O-Y on the back there.
And so they did a whole
bunch of stuff with that.
All these posters
basically say "Deploy"
in different ways using
the same language.
Black and white.
Tote bag carried
by a gal wearing
a black and white striped shirt
in front of a black brick wall.
That's how to do it.
Little button.
Some smaller buttons.
This is not toilet paper.
It's packing tape they
actually made, crumpled up.
We just made that up.
I don't think it's
physically possible to have--
but they could.
And made with a little
bit of love, too.
So perfect timing.
Thank you.
It's time for questions
now, if you want.
[APPLAUSE]
MALE SPEAKER: Perfect.
So we have at least 10,
15 minutes for questions
if there are any questions.
You have to shout
out nice and loud,
and Michael can repeat it.
MICHAEL BIERUT: I will.
I will.
Yes.
AUDIENCE: Do you value rejection
in the creative process?
MICHAEL BIERUT: Do I value it?
I love it.
I really, really love it.
I'm so glad you
asked that question.
OK.
So when I'm
presenting something,
the thing that really scares
me, the thing I really dread--
and I hate it when
it's happening--
is, you see how this
is-- I'm not putting
this on just for you guys.
This is sort of how I get when
I'm presenting design work.
I get sort of progressively
more animated and excited
because I'm excited about it.
I'm not trying to sell.
I just really like--like
I said, I like what I do.
And I'll be behaving like this,
and the people I'm talking to
will sort of be like-- and
then at the end, they'll say,
you know, well, you've certainly
given us a lot to think about.
And then I remember the
first time, the first couple
times I got really rejected.
And I remember going to one
thing where, literally, it was
a much smaller group than this.
And I was about as
far as I am from you.
And I was talking.
And I remember this
was the old days,
and I think I just-- I
didn't even have slides.
I was presenting with
pieces of cardboard,
like Don Draper in "Mad Men."
I had boards, right?
And I probably had 20 boards
with my designs on it.
And about the second one,
everyone in the front row
started kind of doing body
language, things like this.
And kind of like-- and
then by the third one,
by the fourth one,
they started, like,
literally-- I'm this far away.
Like you and your friend
there would kind of go like--
And I had one of those weird
out-of-body experiences,
where I'm still talking, I'm
saying, and then for the logo,
we decided-- and as I'm
talking, I'm thinking,
boy-- I had this other dialogue.
It's so odd the way I can
hear my voice inside my head.
How is that?
Your brain is up here,
and your mouth is there,
and you hear yourself talking.
And I was having this
kind of like sense
of detachment from reality.
I was actually
losing track-- then
I started just getting really
focused on how many boards were
left, because I just
thought, as long
as-- it was like
Scheherazade, actually.
As long as I keep presenting,
everything will be fine.
And then eventually I have
to say, so what do you think?
So predictably,
these guys hated it.
And I was young then, and I
didn't know what to do with it.
Now when that happens, I stop
on the third thing, and I say,
wait.
You guys really don't
like this, do you?
Tell me why.
And I have to admit, some of
the best meetings I've ever had
proceeded from that question.
And sometimes I'll be with
some of my younger designers
on my team.
And someone will bring
up some objection
to what we're showing.
And I think your
natural impulse is
to rush to the defense of
the thing you're showing,
the poor thing you're
showing, which needs
to be defended at all costs.
And I don't do that anymore.
I just kind of
like, give me more.
Give me more.
I mean, do you hate it
because of the color?
Do you hate it because
of the typeface?
Do you hate it because
of the basic idea?
Do you hate me?
And I really will-- and
if one of my designers
tries to defend the thing,
I'll no, no, wait, wait, wait.
Go on.
And then I'll repeat
it all back to them.
I'll just make
sure I got it all.
And what's really interesting
is it that every once in a while
I'll present to someone
who just loves everything,
and they really do
love everything.
But almost every
time, someone has
some objection, or
some reservation,
or some criticism, or something
they just outright hate.
And I just find those things
really much, much more
interesting than, oh, I love it.
It's so great.
Every once in awhile someone
says, I love it, it's so great.
And that's interesting
enough for me.
I mean, I'll take it.
But people rejecting
you is so fascinating.
And in a way, the luckiest
thing we had with this
was, that first
idea was not right.
It really was not right,
and it was correct
that it was rejected.
And in a way, if I have
any regrets at all,
it's that I just played
the whole thing through.
And had they accepted
it, I would've said,
congratulations, enjoy
your new graphic identity,
knowing that it wasn't
quite right, actually.
So confessing right
before you all,
if I had a shortcoming that
I would do over myself,
I would've said,
maybe you're right.
This isn't quite right.
I'm not sure it's
going to do it.
So in a way, I don't reject
myself enough, actually.
I guess I'm just so hungry to
have other people reject me.
There's some kind of
psychological component to that
that I'm not eager to explore
right in front of you.
However, that couch
awaits me, and maybe I'll
just lay down and
free associate later.
Yeah.
There.
AUDIENCE: How do you
separate objections
based on personal bias?
MICHAEL BIERUT: So
the question is,
how do separate objections
based on personal bias
from ones that are
based on rationales?
Well, sometimes I think
that all objections
are based on personal bias,
because particularly, there's
part of every-- almost
every kind of design
expression, every
product you guys design,
every decision that anyone
making anything makes--
some of decisions are made
because they are answering
a functional requirement.
And you can actually say,
yes or no, this is right,
that's wrong.
We'll do this just because
this works better than that.
But almost always, there's
still some things left over
that someone has to decide.
And there is no right or wrong.
And people hate to
call that taste.
People hate to call that style.
But I mean, it really
is a dangerous thing,
and it really is taste.
And so when someone
rejects something,
I sort of will assume it's
some combination of all
those things.
I try not to have a
conversation based on taste just
because it's so arbitrary.
So I'll try to ease us back
into something that has more
to do with the objective
world that we can all together
agree on.
You know, you like blue,
but all your competitors
use blue, so if what you
want is differentiation,
blue may not be the thing that
gets you differentiated, right?
On the other hand,
maybe you really
don't want differentiation.
Maybe you want parity
with all your competitors,
you want to fit in.
And then people can have--
they're almost relieved
to have that discussion,
because it makes a lot of people
nervous to talk about having
an opinion about a color,
actually.
So they don't want to do that.
They want to talk
about something
you can put on a spreadsheet.
So it's a complicated
thing to work through.
And a lot of it is-- in the
back of my head, sometimes,
it's like, you really don't
care one way or the other
at the end.
Just let me do it my way,
because I really do care.
And I think there's a lot of
designers who lead with that.
And it sort of takes nerve
and kind of arrogance.
And I'm not sure I have
either of those things.
So I usually just kind
of do with a patient,
kind of conversational one.
Yeah.
AUDIENCE: How do you maintain
your artistic integrity when
a client is challenging it?
MICHAEL BIERUT: OK.
So the question is,
how do you maintain
your artistic
integrity when you're
working with a client who
might be challenging it?
There are cliches about
people from the Midwest,
the Midwestern United States,
like Ohio, where I'm from.
One of them is that
we're very polite.
And I do think I'm really
polite, and unconfrontational.
So I can count-- I
don't think I've ever
had a meeting where I actually
stormed out in a huff,
or even raised my voice.
I mean, I just don't
do that, not at work.
I mean, like watching a sports
event-- I mean, I just--
I'm very
unconfrontational at work.
So this idea that-- and
also, I have to admit,
I don't value my own
artistic integrity
that highly at the
end of the day.
I don't, actually.
I mean, someone's asked
me to do a job for them.
And you know, say what you will.
But I put this deck
together for you guys.
I just looked at it now.
But over in Cambridge,
Massachusetts,
they look at this stuff
all day, every day.
This is their thing.
This isn't my thing,
this is their thing.
And as far as I'm
concerned, it has nothing
to do that they're paying me.
It has to do with the fact that
I've created a house for them
to live in.
And it doesn't matter if I
think there's something really,
really fun about having
stairs with no railing
because I think that
looks really cool.
If my client has
six-year-old twins,
they're going to fall off the
stairs and kill themselves.
So it doesn't matter,
my artistic integrity.
I have to hold my
nose and say, OK, I
have to figure out a
way to protect your kids
on those stairs, right?
So usually if there's-- artistic
integrity doesn't come into it.
I do dislike people
that are horrible
and mean, or are dumb,
horrible, and mean.
If they're dumb and nice,
sometimes that's OK.
And I actually like--
smart and mean I actually
don't mind that much.
It's dumb and mean that
is just intolerable.
So again, there's a lot
of people-- I mean, to me,
I just will quietly walk
away from certain things
where I can kind of tell
it's not going to go well.
It has much less to do
about me as an artist,
and just more to do
with, given that you're
awake X many hours
a day, and you
spend this much of your wife
working, how much of that time
do you want to
spend really dealing
with unpleasant people
who, for some reason,
have the energy to make you do
things you don't want to do?
I mean, if you're
lucky and you structure
your life and your business the
right way, you can set it up
so you're in a position
to avoid a lot of that
without hurting
anyone's feelings.
I've never told anyone,
you're a jerk, and I hate you,
and I don't want to
work with you anymore.
I usually say, it's
not you, it's me.
I'm sorry.
This isn't working, so if
you don't mind-- so I do.
Yeah.
Sorry.
AUDIENCE: My question is
about the relationship
between technology
and visual identity.
Does it matter?
MICHAEL BIERUT: So the
question is-- correct
me if I'm saying this
wrong-- but we're at a point
now where, potentially,
an institution
or an organization's
identity could
be adapted almost infinitely
by not just its users,
but by its audiences, to
work in different ways.
And is this a good idea?
Is this what the
future holds for us?
I actually think the
answer to both those things
is yes and yes.
I don't think it's-- sometimes
a situation calls for something
which is unequivocally
immalleable.
It's not going to change at all.
Other times, it's-- what
I've gotten really interested
in lately is the idea that--
I've noticed that some
of the brands I admire the most,
actually, have very little--
they've got a real
kernel at the core.
But it's not that big, and
it's not telling people
that much what to do.
We have this store over in
the states called Target.
You guys-- OK, so Target's
this inexpensive store
that has a reputation for from
being hip and design conscious.
And one of the genius
things about Target
is their name is Target.
And back in the
late '60s, they went
to some really good designers
and said, we need a logo.
And these great designers
came back to them and said,
we got it.
It's a dot with a
circle around it,
and underneath we're going
to write the word target.
Now if that happened today
on social media-- like,
my five-year-old could do this.
How much do these
people get paid?
Total fail.
People would say, it's
not clever at all.
But because they weren't clever,
they weren't preemptively
clever on behalf of every future
generation, all these great ad
agencies, all these
great designers, all
these great marketing people,
all these great business people
have done all these
really interesting things
with that basic, simple
piece of geometry.
And it was enabled not
because-- what made it possible
was the simplicity of
that original conception,
and I would almost
say the humility
of the designers who actually
put that forward as the idea.
Very recently I did a logo
where I literally was thinking,
I really think this
is the right solution.
The only thing wrong
with it is that no one
will think I'm clever.
It just isn't clever.
There's nothing clever about it.
I'm not even sure
this is that clever.
The music video
makes it look kind
of ingenious and everything.
But I don't think--
inherently, it just
is this kind of
workmanlike of thing.
What I like about it,
too, is that I remember,
there were like
two dozen groups.
If I recall, about
half of them liked
the logos we did for them.
The other have didn't
like their logos.
And I was like, this is simple.
I mean, it's a 49-square grid.
And once you explain the
rules of the geometry, what's
your idea?
And they would come back
with things, and we'd say,
that'll work if you do this.
And then eventually we--
through a very quick series
of kind of fun
negotiations-- co-designed
every one of the remaining
logos with the users.
And I don't remember even
which ones those were,
because it was sort of the
system designed it in the end.
So I think there's lots of
different examples of how
that'll happen in the future.
I think that it's partly--
it's certainly enabled
or accelerated by technology.
But in a way, some symbols
of world religions,
or countries, or the peace
sign, simple things that people
can draw in the sand,
or with a piece of chalk
on a wall-- in a
way, those things
are the ultimate
distributed design systems.
And it has less to do,
I think-- it has as much
to do with the
inherent simplicity
of the original conception as
it does with the technology that
enables it.
Is that a long and-- Yeah.
AUDIENCE: One of the
things I have to do
is go and find customers.
Now I have three options in
terms of showing them product.
Either I go with
the Google logo,
or I brand it for
them specifically,
or I just use a made
up, fictional company.
Which one do you
think resonates best?
MICHAEL BIERUT: OK.
So some of you guys
must face this problem.
When he goes in to a
potential client or customer,
he can brand-- you're branding
a prototype or something,
I imagine, or--
AUDIENCE: Well, no.
Just the stuff that you
could tell the customer
that they have the ability
to brand themselves.
MICHAEL BIERUT: They have the
ability to brand themselves.
He can put the
Google logo on it,
he can put their
name on it, or he
can put, like, Newco or some
other pretend name on it.
Which is the best one?
You know, it's funny.
I think if Google
were a startup--
this is just my opinion, OK?
I've been here for
all of an hour or two,
so just take this as you will.
I think if Google were
an unknown startup,
it would have a sort of
requirement to kind of really
establish its name out there.
I think, if anything, Google,
like a lot of other companies,
sort of has the other problem.
They're just seen as being--
I think your customers may
welcome the fact
that you're kind of,
oh, you put our logo on it.
That seems beneficent, in a way.
And I think the only
reason not to do
it is if their own logo is
so ugly it makes everything
look terrible, right?
I assume.
Or else if you just kind
of set it in your typeface
that you use for alphabet
and all that other stuff?
That's another way
you could do it,
I suppose, just to neutralize
the whole thing a little bit.
AUDIENCE: So you think the logo
resonates well with customers?
They don't get sick of
seeing their own logo?
MICHAEL BIERUT: No, no.
Customers don't get sick
of seeing their own logo,
you kidding?
No, they love seeing
their own logo,
particularly if they're going
in with the fear of thinking
that they're giving something
up going into a situation.
To see themselves acknowledged
in that way, I think,
is probably reassuring.
I've done lots-- in that book,
you'll find some examples.
There's some work we did
for Saks Fifth Avenue, where
basically we were asked to
do a brand new logo for them.
We couldn't come up with one.
Instead, we found a logo
they had from the early '70s
and did this sort
of remix of it.
I remember going to that
presentation so happy,
thinking, they can't hate
this because it's already
their logo.
They can't say, we
don't want that.
You can't say that.
You already have it.
Ha ha!
So you know, I think that
people just really-- I mean,
logos are weird
because on one level,
they're this weird piece
of commercial marketing--
they're a commercial
marketing tool.
On the other hand, people
do take them personally.
It's someone's signature.
It's the flag that
they fight under.
It's the sign over the door they
go to five days a week or more.
So it does mean a little bit
more to them than just colors
and shapes, I find.
MALE SPEAKER: One more.
AUDIENCE: If you
were a client, how
would you choose a
graphic designer or agency
to work with?
MICHAEL BIERUT: The question
is, if I was a client,
how would I choose a
graphic designer or agency
to work with?
That's a really good question,
because I actually think that
that's-- when people are
trying to get good design out
of a process, I think.
There's some people
in the movie business
who sort of say
the same thing, is
once you have the script,
the director, and the cast,
and maybe the director
of photography, the movie
is 95% done before
anything starts filming.
It can only get 5%
better or worse,
because those ingredients
are like setting the tone.
And I think the same is true
when you hire a designer.
I think you're making the
primary decision about what
the outcome is going to be just
through that, because once you
do that, you're already
kind of putting yourself
on a certain track, whether
you do it knowingly or not.
Just like a lot of
decisions one makes in life.
Why did you go to that college?
What would have happened if
you wouldn't have sat down
at that particular seat at
the cafe next to that guy?
And then all of a sudden
your life is changed, right?
Thus it also is with choosing
a designer, I suppose.
I mean, I would love to
hire designers all day long.
I think there's so much
good work out there now.
It's all so visible.
I just would see things
that you admired,
and then find out
who's doing them,
and then meet those
people and see
whether you like those people.
if you find somebody like
who does work you admire,
and you're someone they like
and you do work they admire,
that's true love, isn't it?
I've been married
for going on 40 years
now, or 35 years, actually.
Dating the same
girl for 40 years.
So I know all about true love.
Ask me about that sometime.
You had your hand up before.
I just want to have
one more question.
AUDIENCE: So my question
was, how much time
needs to be spent
researching the client,
understanding their
culture, their DNA?
MICHAEL BIERUT: I actually think
that's really a critical thing.
And I think that
it's something that I
imagine-- it's tough no
matter what the situation is.
And people usually assume
that researching a client,
and understanding
what the situation is,
is really necessary
when that situation is
kind of complicated or exotic,
or no one understands it.
I've actually found that
it's much worse when--
the more dangerous thing
is when everyone thinks
they understand it already.
It sort of is-- one thing
that's nice about designing for,
like, the Media Lab,
what I just showed you,
is that what they do seems
complicated and mysterious.
But everyone-- for
instance, I think
a lot of the reaction that
came out about the Google logo
had to do with,
everyone thinks they
know everything there
is to know about Google,
because they're on your
site all day every day.
And what else is there to know?
They think they know you.
They wouldn't presume to
know that much about a lot
of other entities in the world.
But they think they
know you already.
And I think that
that's actually,
from a designer's point of
view, much more dangerous.
I think it's because you
assume you know it all already.
And the questions always
are, what don't we know?
What do we know today that
isn't going to be true tomorrow?
What do we anticipate is
going to happen tomorrow?
What do we have to put in place
for the thing that's going
to happen five years from now?
So I think understanding
those sort of factors.
And I think, just
as importantly,
getting a sense overall of
what the culture is like,
and what the spirit
of the place is like.
Those are really fundamental
to both establishing
the kind of rapport that makes
for a fun design process,
and for ultimately coming
out with a good solution.
And it's true for a
really big organization.
It's true for a
really small one.
Well, thank you so much.
