Monday, September 29, 2025
Saturday, September 27, 2025
Saturday, September 20, 2025
Wednesday, September 17, 2025
Article 2
The article looks at how warning symbols, like the biohazard sign, are created to communicate danger now and in the future. It explains the difficulty of making symbols that are easy to recognize, universal across cultures, and not mistaken for something else. The biohazard sign, made in the 1960s by Dow Chemical, was chosen because it was very memorable but didn’t carry any meaning at first. This made it possible for people to learn its connection to danger without confusing it with other symbols. The article also moves into bigger questions about the future, like how to warn people thousands of years from now about radioactive waste. Some ideas include building symbolic structures, using myths, or even genetic experiments like making glowing animals to signal danger.
What stands out most is how the article combines psychology, culture, and design, showing that warning symbols are more than just visual design; they rely on how people think and interpret meaning. The six qualities used in testing memorability, distinctiveness, symmetry, reproducibility, clarity, and cultural acceptability show that designing these symbols is a multi-disciplinary process. Another important detail is that the biohazard sign is already losing its seriousness since it’s being used in fashion and pop culture, which could weaken its warning power. The article also stresses how meaning changes over time and across different cultures, which makes designing long-lasting symbols extremely challenging. These details matter because warning symbols are essential to public safety. They raise questions about how humans can communicate danger across generations, and how culture, design, and responsibility all play a role in keeping people safe.
But overall if you can’t understand it, it’s usually trial by fire, and you end up learning through mistakes (Other people's lives) and hands-on experience rather than clear instructions.
Article 1
The article explains how designers utilize icon grids to ensure icons appear consistent, scalable, and visually clear across various platforms. It breaks the process into five main parts: the canvas, the grid, guides, key shapes, and the icons themselves. The article also connects these ideas to design history, mentioning Otl Aicher’s Olympic pictograms and Susan Kare’s early Macintosh icons. What really stands out is how the article shows a balance between structure and creativity. Instead of limiting designers, grids and guides give them direction that makes decisions easier and designs clearer. It also ties the past to the present, showing that even though technology and screens have changed, principles like alignment and visual balance are still important. The use of examples and visuals helps explain these concepts, especially the idea of optical weight, where different shapes are adjusted so they appear balanced to the eye.
Even though the article is strong, it assumes that readers already know certain design terms like vectors, padding, and overflow. It also focuses a lot on why following rules matters, but doesn’t really explore when breaking them could actually be useful, like for branding or creative purposes. Most of the examples are screen-based, which leaves out how icons might function in larger designs or in different cultural settings. Adding examples of times when designers went outside the grid successfully would make the article more complete. It could also discuss accessibility and how grid rules affect people with low vision. Overall, the article shows that grids are important because they give designers systems that scale well and make icons not only consistent but also visually balanced across different uses.
Thursday, September 11, 2025
Group Work
Sunday, September 7, 2025
Saturday, September 6, 2025
Thursday, September 4, 2025
Tuesday, September 2, 2025
Pop, subcultures and the future of graphic design: an interview with Experimental Jetset
Experimental Jetset’s interview reveals a design philosophy rooted in post-punk subcultures, where collaboration replaces hierarchy and design becomes a form of cultural resistance. Their rejection of traditional studio models in favor of a “rock band” dynamic, small and deeply personal, was especially thought-provoking. It challenges the notion that professionalism requires rigid structure, suggesting instead that creativity flourishes in fluid, collective environments. I was struck by their view of post-punk as a “meta-influence,” a lens through which they reinterpret historical movements, such as Constructivism. This idea reframes design not just as aesthetic output but as ideological practice. Their critique of neoliberalism’s impact on Dutch design, shifting from public service to branding, felt timely and urgent. Yet, their optimism about young designers reclaiming public space was inspiring. Quoting Gramsci, they embody a balance of realism and hope: “Pessimist of the mind, optimist of the will.” It’s a call to design with purpose, not just polish.