Not being alive during the 1980s, some may consider me unfit to broadcast my emotions about the decade. What I am about to discuss simply sums up my complete and improper generalisation about the years 1980 to 1989. I present to you the World Flag, a coat of arms for a universe where more is more, scale is meaningless and your design isn’t complete without a cherry on top. Or seven.

The World Flag was devised in 1988 by Paul Carroll to “raise global awareness, inspire innovative solutions and promote action toward challenges facing our world today“. Can’t argue with that. Carroll had a cycling accident, presumably near-death, and decided to change the world by making a patchwork quilt out of all of Earth’s sovereign flags. In 1988, too, I’m sure it would have looked great, so don’t get me wrong.

The problem is that this thing is still living in the 80s — Zack Morris from Saved by the Bell would have worn it on his drawstrung shorts. It’s overbearing: it’s hard to decipher from anything less than a metre. The beauty of international flags lies in their tradition and simplicity: this is like grabbing Neil Young’s best forty songs and playing them. At the same time. This epitomises a certain degree of forcefulness that runs through the design’s initial concept and final look.

The World Flag, just like that annoying Lycos web page from the early 90s where all the links are don’t work, breaks when flags are changed. That means it has to be update. In 2006, they did updated, but the bold 1980s vision remains.

Not only is the flag an assault on the senses, it still leaves you convulsing in your sleep as you dwell on the metaphor Carroll had managed to cram into its design. To be honest I think he thought of half of these after he had signed off on the flag. Here are my favourite of Carroll’s ‘motifs’…

Flags with 'additional meaning' are pictured

• The white of Japan draws the eye downward creating the image of a flagpole. This then becomes a Flag within the World Flag and also symbolizes a ‘P’ for peace.
• Japan (left) is one of the wealthier nations and Bangladesh one of the poorest.
• Opposing each other across the Earth, the U.S. and Russia symbolize the challenge of opposing powers whose collective actions can have major impact on the planet as a whole.
• Above Russia is Nicaragua, whose blue and white pattern works visually to tie in with the blue and white of Russia.

And my personal favourite…

• Below Russia is Barbados, whose trident is used here to symbolize Russia’s emergence from the depths of communism toward a more democratic system of government.

So not only have we designed a flag that ‘unites’ the world, but we’ve done it on the basis of political preference. Chinese, Cuban and North Korean — communist nations today — are still on the flag, though you could bet Mr. Carroll has not placed them in the premium positions reserved for democracy.

I might have rated it if it were a towel

Michael Bierut from Design Observer, thinks flag symbolism can be successful “as long as it’s yoked to a clear idea of what’s meant to be symbolized”. I think this is where Carroll failed. To make matters worse, The North American Vexilogical Association (vexology is the study of flags) considers it impressive that Carroll spent ‘days’ designing the flag. I’m loath to say time would have helped this design, but it wouldn’t have. There was no clarity in the original idea.

In terms of design fauxes I’ll be putting it next to the blink tag for now. Tune in for more ‘Bad Design’ on Bad Blumau soon.

Until then, be warned the flag that does not heed ‘less is more’.

Posted on July 17th, 2009 in Graphic Design | 1 Comment

As a child, driving the highways of New South Wales’ long and flat coasts, I was always fascinated by the signs that littered the road. They were green or brown with a thick white border. They were clear to read — even at speeds of over a hundred kilometres — but that wasn’t the interesting part. Who made them all? How and why could they be so perfect? Despite the tribal nature of Australia’s states, where even the rail gauges were never the same, how could they keep the same look all-over. Governments are notorious for being poor branders.

But is road signage the greatest coup in the design world?

From its modest beginnings, the designers of the early ‘FHWA’ standard of fonts wouldn’t have predicted it. In the late 1940s, the California Department of Transportation developed FHWA and its complex set of spacing formulas. You might know it better as Highway Gothic. There were six sizes that would be refined over the next few decades until in 2000, the final specification was published and adopted (in its various forms) by the USA, Mexico, Canada, Spain, Australia, Peru, the Netherlands and New Zealand.

I reckon that’s pretty big.

Remember, these signs have to be drawn up and manufactured around the world. In Australia, every state controls their roads individually. Despite this, every state manages to stick to a single typeface with the same rules for spacing and the rest.

Sure, you’d find an example of the use of Helvetica in every nation on Earth, but that can be used for anything or everything… or nothing. What Highway Gothic represents is homogenised design on a massive scale. Sure, it might be enforced by government standards, but such a widespread use must be rare. If you can think of any other visual communication that — for purely aesthetic reasons — that is used in the public sector, comment this post!

Helvetica is the standard without being a standard

In my own opinion it is a brilliant standard in a word of design where anything ’standard’ is considered taboo. Road signage is one of the few cases when consistent branding on a continental scale actually benefits the public. Sure, you could argue that the Coca-Colas and Apples of this world could improve their economies of scale by having the same logo, same advertisements, same website, worldwide. But it doesn’t work like that in commerce. For the unsuspecting roadside, it does.

With legibility and simplicity government in mind, a standard was always the best option.

Clearview is replacing FHWA in the US as of 2007

Highway Gothic, after a sixty year run, is being replaced by Clearview. Joshua Yaffa of the New York Times claims: “Looking at a sign in Clearview after reading one in Highway Gothic is like putting on a new pair of reading glasses: there’s a sudden lightness, a noticeable crispness to the letters.”

That very sentence springs to mind my own experience with — laugh if you want — Microsoft’s new Office software that came with Calibri as the standard font. It sure looked nice, but my love didn’t last. I found it gimmicky and surprisingly outdated only a couple of years later. The smooth edges were not practical from a perspective of readability and David Airey, designing a logo for Ecometrica, inadvertently agreed with me.

So whether Clearview will stand the test of time is anyone’s guess, but it is a much safer bet than Calibri. The Highway Gothic lineage is there for all to see. Don Meeker, the co-designer of Clearview is critical of the ancestral font, saying Highway Gothic made signs “a mess”. I’d hope Meeker would also see the font for the good it has done, especially in the context of the last half-century.

Highway Gothic or Clearview: you decide

If you’re interested in roadway signage type, have a look at NPS Rawlinson Roadway, the new standard adopted for American National Parks. James Montalbano over at Terminal Design had a lot to do with both Rawlinson and Clearview. Rawlinson replaced Clarendon, which was made all the way back in 1845.

Posted on July 16th, 2009 in Graphic Design, Great Design, Typography | No Comments