Have you ever tried a dish that tasted nothing like its main ingredient?

It happened to me once at an expensive restaurant on the Seattle waterfront. I ordered halibut, my favorite seafood, and the pan-seared fillet came heavily topped with a spicy fruit salsa. Rather than enhance the delicate flavor of the fish, the bold spices and tangy sweetness overwhelmed it. I got a mouthful of heat and fruit, but I could hardly taste halibut at all.

It was a meal that disappointed my taste buds and my wallet, so I never returned to that restaurant.

Marketing communication often suffers the same fate. We try to season our messaging with so many clever and complex flavors that we obscure the main point. The result is communication that’s confusing, distracting, or even overwhelming – and that can cause an audience to tune out.

Recently, I saw an interview with Francis Ford Coppola, the renowned filmmaker. In it, he shared how each of his films is intentionally driven by a single theme or idea:

“I always try to have a word that is the core of what the movie is really about, in one word. For Godfather, the key word is succession. That’s what the movie is about. Apocalypse Now, morality. The Conversation, privacy.”

Coppola’s films are built around singular themes, yet the plots are still complex and engaging, and the characters are multi-dimensional. So, while simplicity may seem basic or even unsophisticated, it’s at the heart of great storytelling – and great communication.

A clear message starts and ends with a single, driving idea.

A couple summers ago, I ordered my favorite seafood yet again, this time at an unassuming restaurant along the wharf of Juneau, Alaska. The pan-seared halibut was cleanly flavored with an herb rub, one that enhanced the mild taste and freshness of the fish. It was the simplest halibut dish I’ve ever tasted.

And, frankly, it was the best one too.

posted by: Denise Wilson  |  category: random thoughts  |  make a comment

I’m convinced that there are two kinds of people in this world: those who are navigationally gifted, and those who aren’t. Alas, I land squarely in the latter group. Which means that I’m just lucky to find my way out of a parking lot.

Fortunately for me and others like me, graphic designers possess a superpower that can save people from getting lost in a confusing world. Their power lies not just in the ability to make a space easier to navigate, but to make it more engaging as well.

It’s a superpower called wayfinding, and you can see it at work here:

At the newly renovated Shadle Park Library, wayfinding shows up in everything from the outdoor signs and vinyl studio letters to the checkout kiosks and bookshelf labels. Each design solution helps library visitors seamlessly navigate the space and find exactly what they’re looking for.

But wayfinding offers more than just utility. It delivers impact too. Did you notice the graphic pattern in the privacy vinyl on the library’s glass walls? This one-of-a-kind pattern was inspired by a street map of the post-war Shadle Park neighborhood. It subtly adds interest and promotes a sense of space that’s unique to this Spokane community.

Wayfinding may not seem obvious at first, but once you start looking for it, you’ll discover it in the spaces you navigate every day.

And – whether you’re navigationally challenged or not – you’ll have a graphic designer to thank for that help.

posted by: Denise Wilson  |  category: random thoughts  |  make a comment

The Grinch tried to steal my family’s Christmas this year. But in the end, we were the ones who discovered the true meaning of the day.

It all started when my husband and I decided to spend the holidays with extended family out of town. Knowing we’d be gone for a while, we started to strategically empty our pantry in the days leading up to the trip. Because there’s no point in having a house full of food if no one’s home to eat it.

It seemed like a good plan – until the night before we were scheduled to leave.

Just as my kids had cleared the pantry and were licking the last few crumbs of stale granola bars from their fingers, he struck.

The Grinch. Or, as the weather service calls him, the bomb cyclone. And you know it’s serious weather when the meteorologist uses words like “bomb” and “cyclone” to describe it. In a matter of hours, our holiday plans were buried under a mound of snow and ice.

We had nowhere to go, no family to see, and no food to eat.

I’m not going to lie. For a while, there was no joy in Whoville. My family spent Christmas Eve moping around the house, complaining about the weather, and begrudgingly ordering takeout.

But by Christmas morning, we’d found our holiday spirit.

Four hours (and one long trip to the only supermarket that was open) later, we finally sat down to a lovely, if makeshift, Christmas dinner. And it was wonderful. No one even seemed to mind that the table was decorated with grocery store flowers and the wrapped gifts all came straight from the magazine aisle.

In the end, it turned out to be one of the nicest holidays I can remember. And we learned the very same lesson as the Grinch himself.

Maybe Christmas doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more.

posted by: Denise Wilson  |  category: random thoughts  |  make a comment

Get ready to have your mind blown. I’m about to share five obscure punctuation marks that you’ve always needed in your life but never knew existed.

Let’s jump in.

interrobang
I’ve used this one for years, but I didn’t realize it had a name until recently. The interrobang is a question mark followed by an exclamation point. Or vice versa. It’s used to express disbelief or ask a rhetorical question. The name is a combination of “interrogate” (to question) and “bang” (printers’ lingo for an exclamation point).

Back in the 1960s, typographers experimented with designing a single glyph for the interrobang by superimposing an exclamation point over a question mark. The result is hard to decipher, so I’d stick with the two-mark version. People experimented with lots of things in the sixties. Doesn’t mean it was all genius.

certitude point
The certitude point (AKA conviction point) is an exclamation mark with a hyphen through it. When you use it at the end of a sentence, you’re essentially saying, “End of discussion, capeesh?” If punctuation had a mike drop, this would be it. Use sparingly.

percontation point
Every bit as pompous as it sounds, the percontation point – or reversed question mark – has been mocking people since the 1500’s. Consider it the refined way to punctuate a rhetorical question.

Sadly, in our crude modern world, the percontation point has been replaced by the eye roll emoji. Isn’t it time to return to a more civilized era and use a respectable mark to insult strangers on the internet?

snark mark
The snark mark is simple – it’s a period followed by a tilde. And since the name is self-explanatory, it doesn’t need further explanation, does it? Does it?!

I feel like it doesn’t. Just use it already.

acclimation point
After so much aggressive (and passive-aggressive) punctuation, it’s only right to end with a friendlier mark. The acclimation point appears as two exclamation marks that share the same period – like little punctuation BFFs. It’s a nicer, more approachable way to express excitement. (Because exclamation points aren’t amiable enough already?)

Think of the acclimation point as the exclamation point’s more sensitive cousin. Which might make it the perfect mark for younger generations.

If only they used punctuation.∼

posted by: Denise Wilson  |  category: the writing life  |  make a comment

Look, I don’t want to freak you out, but graphic designers are hiding something from you.

They secretly tell people where to go and what to do.

Don’t expect them to admit it, of course. They’ll use innocuous words like “signage” or “wayfinding.” But it’s more like mind control. They’re guiding you, and you aren’t even aware of it.

Not sure what I’m talking about? Just visit the newly remodeled Central Library downtown. If you pay close attention, you’ll practically hear the signs and graphics telling you what to do.

“These aren’t the books you’re looking for.”
“You will take the elevator to the third floor.”
“You want to go to the café and rethink your life.”

How do designers pull this off? With design choices so subtle and attractive that you’d never suspect a thing. They’ll use a clean font choice, a consistent color scheme, sophisticated graphics, or – the sneakiest of all – a directory disguised as art, in a place where you’d need it the most but expect it the least.

Like an elevator door.

Graphic designers use all these techniques – and more – to seamlessly guide people through complex spaces. Their work combines beauty and function to welcome us, delight us, and make us feel comfortable. They even help us create mental maps to navigate the space, so we know where we are, where we’re going, and the best way to get from one place to the other.

We follow their guidance without ever giving it a second thought.

The Society for Environmental Graphic Design calls it “spatial problem solving.” Yeah, right. Don’t be fooled. It’s more like the power of the Force.

And graphic designers? They’re Jedi Masters.

posted by: Denise Wilson  |  category: the design life  |  make a comment

Which would you find more maddening…

Shrinking your favorite wool-blend sweater because you couldn’t decrypt the hieroglyphics on the label?

Or attaching the legs of your new IKEA chair upside down – despite scrutinizing the illustrations – because you (apparently unwisely) chose to get a degree in writing instead of engineering?

Personally, I think it’s a toss-up. And I may or may not have experienced both.

The point is, in each example, simple graphical elements that were meant to make a task easier complicated it instead. Graphical images – icons, symbols, and illustrations – will either add to or detract from a design. It’s a principle we see not just in the physical world but in the digital world too.

An iconic problem

When it comes to digital design, few elements are more popular than icons. They’re everywhere, from site navigation to application toolbars to product descriptions. Many companies use them for purely aesthetic reasons or to reinforce corporate branding. But they may be missing the real value of the icon.

In digital design, an icon’s purpose is to represent an action or idea in an easy-to-digest way. It’s like a visual shortcut. Unlike laundry symbols or IKEA illustrations, however, icons in the digital world don’t have a physical counterpart. A scissor icon can represent the task of cutting text, and an envelope icon can represent the concept of email. The best icons will add to a design, be easily recognized and universally understood, and ultimately make life easier for the user.

The problem is that it’s hard to convey complex ideas or tasks with simple graphical images. As a result, confusing icons clutter the digital landscape – distracting and even frustrating the end user. Icons are often subjective and context-dependent, conveying different meanings to different users in different situations. Take the simple arrow icon, for example. It could have multiple meanings: undo, back, reply, share, or forward. How does the user know which meaning to apply?

But icons don’t have to be boring, confusing, or frustrating. The right ones can be aesthetically pleasing and improve user experience. It all comes down to good design.

Some practical solutions

Aaron Robertson, one of our senior designers, believes that iconography has two main purposes in the digital space. He offers design tips for both.

(1) Action or Navigation

“These icons should be simple, clear, and concise. In this case, it’s all about universal recognition. The goal is to help someone find their way or complete a task.” Aaron says. “A great example is the shopping cart icon on a commerce website. It’s basic, and everyone knows what it means.”

“Here’s where it also helps to add labels or alt text to your icons,” he adds.

(2) Concepts

“It’s different when you’re talking about ideas or product features. That’s where the icons can be more unique, creative, and expressive,” Aaron explains.

“These kinds of icons work well with explanations, infographics, and statistics. They should be interesting, engaging to readers, and summarize the concept well. An example might be an umbrella icon that represents the concept of insurance because it protects you from risk like an umbrella protects you from rain.”

To learn more about iconography and how graphic designers help organizations create great icons, check out AIGA’s universal transportation symbols.

To avoid shrinking your favorite sweater, see Tide’s explanation of the laundry symbols. And to assemble your IKEA furniture, just consult directly with the National Society of Professional Engineers.

posted by: Denise Wilson  |  category: the design life  |  make a comment

With Halloween coming up, I’m going to reveal something spooky.

I hear dead people.

Well, to be exact, I hear dead person. It only happens when I’m writing. Or rewriting. Or re-rewriting. (What can I say? It’s a process.) Whose voice do I hear, reaching out from beyond the grave?

Dr. Erwin Steinberg.

Oooo. The very name sends chills down my copywriter spine.

Before his passing in 2012, Dr. Steinberg was a distinguished professor of English and rhetoric at Carnegie Mellon University – my alma mater – for 60 years. Yes, you read that correctly. Six, zero. Longer than any middle-aged writers like me have walked this earth.

I took Dr. Steinberg’s graduate-level class in style (writing, not fashion) when I was enrolled in the professional writing program. Twice a week, I’d join a dozen other anxious souls to endure the dismembering of our latest writing assignment.

It was a red-penned bloodbath.

Those memories still haunt me, more than 20 years later.

Nearly every day, I hear the voice of Dr. Steinberg, admonishing me to be clearer. More precise and succinct. To choose language that’s plain and straightforward over clever and intellectually impressive. Whenever I encounter the worst style offenders – passive voice, noun strings, and (gasp) nominalizations – I’m right back in class, listening to Dr. Steinberg’s meticulous correction.

It’s scary how much he’s shaped my writing career.

And I’d thank him for it, if only he could hear me too.

posted by: Denise Wilson  |  category: the writing life  |  make a comment

Psst. Here’s something I’m embarrassed to tell the rest of the team.

I used to think logo design was simple.

Admitting that to my talented coworkers is – as my kids like to say – super cringey. But hey, I’m a copywriter and not a graphic designer.

Granted, I only believed that before I’d ever actually made a logo. In truth, all it took was a single design disaster to learn that I was dead wrong. It happened several years ago, when I was fresh out of college. A friend asked me to design a logo for his new side business. And I, of course, replied with those famous last words.

“How hard can it be?”

Well, I found out. It’s exceptionally hard.

I’ll spare you the gory details of ugly font choices, bad kerning, and cheap clip art, and I’ll skip right to the carnage at the end of the story. The logo was terrible, and my friend’s business closed within six months.

Which just proves the power of a bad logo.

Recently, I asked one of our senior designers, Aaron Robertson, what goes into logo design. His answer was, I kid you not, a full 45-minute discourse on brand research, strategy, analysis, design, and refinement. That’s a heckuva lot of work. And it shows – in his logo design and his clients’ branding success.

Which just proves the power of a good logo too.

posted by: Denise Wilson  |  category: random thoughts  |  make a comment