Nothing would give me a bigger kick than for this to become an authoritative and highly Dugg pillar-post, telling one and all once and for all how to design a killer logo. I’ll be happy enough to cull together the things I’ve learned in 25 years of the pursuit, for you to compare with your own experience or recall should you ever get to similar crossroads in your craft.
I’m assembling this as I depart a job where I was not at liberty to use all these rules as often as they applied. And now, as a freelance designer, I am. I have this folder of a few dozen logo designs, called “my way”. When I’d get frustrated over a logo I thought was designed badly but had to use for my job, I’d take a shot at it myself after hours. I’ll show them in future posts on this blog, which will slowly morph into a design blog, I guess.
The above logos were for my former company’s credit card auto-renew subscription program. They went with the first one, but after a while decided (wisely) not to bother with a logo at all.
Let’s begin. Continue reading
Maybe it’s the pouch.
Should Dutch New York be a launchpad for podcasts, or a rich blog with embedded media? Are they mutually exclusive?
Next week, I will be going to PodCamp Philly for the two days. Unlike PodCamp NYC, I will come armed with an actual project, DutchNewYork.com (see previous post), for which I have a fairly overarching question. I suppose it would be good to get my quality-if-not-quantity readership on the case as well.
“What good is sitting alone in your room? Come, hear the music play.” —Joel Gray
Visualize you’re walking along a dirt path. There’s a fairly tall barricade behind you, of earth and vertical logs. You’ve just been let through the main gate. The path gets wider as you go — south, judging by the sun’s position. There are farm animals wandering among the people; picket fences keep them out of the many yards. A woman with an odd headpiece is carrying two buckets of water on a yoke, and wishes you a “Guten dag.” She’s followed by a sheep. At the end of the path, near the shore of a great sea, is a fort, a pair of tall A-frame buildings, and to the right, a windmill.
Quick: where are you? A fairer question: when are you?
Catholicism is my discredited old friend; atheism is my credible new friend. When one talks trash about the other, I don’t listen.
I can’t believe how tiny that blacktop playground is, where I once watched from the corner as girls played hopscotch and boys played kickball. While I continued to attend Catholic school until three days into my third year at Archbishop Stepinac High School in White Plains, NY, the beginning of the end came during preparation for confirmation, in the third grade at Holy Name of Mary School in Croton-on-Hudson.
Placing the name to a movie star’s face proves a challenge. Internet to the rescue. Is that such a good habit, though?
My wife and I were channel flipping at the TV last night, and we came across what looked like a made-for-TV movie about Noah’s ark. I could identify John Voight as Noah and Mary Steenbergen as his wife. They were looking over the rail of the deck down at another small boat filled with Middle Eastern-looking trinkets, piloted by a bearded peddler, played by an actor with a very familiar face.
Can a guy have a knight in shining armor? I think I’ve had two.
I sat in the car, waiting for everyone else to show up and unlock the door to the law firm office. On the radio, Colin Powell was making the case for WMDs to a UN committee, pointing to photos that reminded my mind’s eye of the visual displays of Dr. Strangelove. There was a battle of a different kind brewing this morning: I was about to be deposed pursuant to a lawsuit.
When the summons came in the mail a few months prior, it was this bulky stack of double-space type. In my ignorance, I reacted like it was an invoice for a million dollars. I freaked out.
Five years before that, I caused a car accident that supposedly injured the driver of the other car. He didn’t seem injured to me that day.