
Who would have imagined a graffiti artist, accustomed to using a spray can as his medium of choice, would be converted to a digital media developer, staring down code all day to create custom Drupal themes?
Not me, that’s for sure! Which is why I occasionally need to bring myself back to my urban roots, just to keep my creative juices flowing.
Before I learned how to <?php echo ‘write a bunch of code’; ?>, I was heavily involved in the Boston graffiti art movement in the late 90’s. Typically, you’d find me daily sketching letters in my Cannon hard cover black book, devising color schemes, and putting my fingers through a strenuous workout with a Krylon spray can, comparable to a Shaolin monk’s two finger push-up drill.
Recently, I was invited to participate in creating a graffiti mural for Tightly Laced Kicks, an event that features some of the rarest sneakers from local Boston residents.
Our theme was simple: we wanted to convey the feeling of the days when we painted a mural and there were no fancy panoramic camera features or costly photo editing software to record our productions. All we had were one-time use Kodak disposable cameras, tape, and an Exacto knife for manual cropping of our polished pictures, straight from the CVS image-processing area.
To achieve the look we were going for, we had to paint our pieces as if they were slightly unaligned and taped together (re-creating our portfolio presentations). Outlining a piece cleanly without this effect is hard enough, but creating the displacement effect on our pieces became the largest challenge… aside from the windy conditions, smashed rocky surfaces, and improvising our color schemes on the fly.
Upon completion, the mural turned out to be another rewarding accomplishment. Enjoy the pictures below to see the process of the production.
Categories: Design, Outside the Square

For quite some time I’ve been creating graphic designs and paintings on parallel tracks. My love for painting is actually what got me into studying graphic design (or visual communication) in the first place. When I started out at the Hochschule für Gestaltung in Offenbach, Germany, my intent was to focus on painting. However, I soon realized that I had nothing in common with my fellow students, or with my professor in the fine arts department. During the first year of my studies, a course in Typography was mandatory and I fell in love with the subject matter. So, I ultimately majored in Typography and Illustration.
More than a decade ago, I decided to pursue painting again. Though graphic design and painting are somewhat related, there is a major difference, as a friend of mine once pointed out. She said: “In your design work, you are answering questions, while in your art work, you are posing the question.” I think there is a lot of truth to that. The designs I am developing are rooted in business goals—they need to function as a solution and speak to a wide range of audiences. A painting, on the other hand, does not need to “function” and the immediate audience is more limited—initially myself, for that matter. Unlike the process of design, which is very collaborative, the process of painting is more isolated—in that regard, the two aren’t related at all.
So what happens when a painter, who is also a graphic designer, needs to design “promotional materials” for his own work? Well, it can be a challenge. The graphic designer in me wanted to come up with a ‘cool’ design and the painter in me said: “Hey, wait a minute, the design can’t overshadow the paintings. They need room to breathe… they need to be the focal point.” So after a few debates between me, myself, and I, clean, simple, and functional designs emerged. From the first postcard, to the website, to a business card and exhibit booklets, the same questions arose: how could I best showcase the work, and still convey the information necessary to communicate what it’s for and what it’s all about?
The most recent product in a series of communications for my own artwork is the booklet for an upcoming solo exhibition at Regis College. Hot off the Puritan Press, I’m holding the first samples in my hand, and I dare to say… the painter is happy with the work the designer delivered.
Categories: Design, Outside the Square

I came across an interesting concept while reading an interview of British designer, Pearce Marchbank: the notion that all preexisting design serves as a background for design that is to come.
When asked if Marchbank had free rein as art director of magazine, Time Out, he responded:
“Almost totally. The covers were left very much to me. I deliberately avoided obvious subjects, which you get now so much. Nicole Kidman has a new film out, so she is on the cover of every consumer magazine—and on the news-stand there are 99 Nicole Kidmans. My approach was to make all the other magazines on the shelves act as our background… The totally bare, green ‘Jealousy’ cover was probably the most minimalist, slated by everyone on the business side, but not after it became an instant sell-out.”
Marchbank’s approach to magazine cover design with Time Out was a clever one. The dense visual clutter on magazine stands served as a departure point for unique design.
By looking ahead to the final context for the piece, Marchbank could intentionally create highly designed, conceptual covers that took advantage of the dominant visual paradigm to stand apart from the myriad of other publications. The four magazine covers above would certainly stick out on a modern magazine stand—the imagery and supporting typography would be jarring next to an issue of Cosmopolitan.
An XKCD comic, sent around by one of our developers Jeff, illustrates another side of the idea in terms of branding. In this case, the cluttered landscape of the market aisle served as a departure point for ‘undesign.’ As consumers, we are familiar with over-designed products–so much so, that when a product goes against the normal visual context, it really stands out.
In our world, where the visual culture is rapidly progressing, it can be difficult to digest all the imagery we are bombarded with. I’m not always able to pinpoint what appeals to my senses or what grabs my interest… but I know it when I see it. Is it something unique? Cutting edge? Conceptually driven? Or does it just look cool?
While I continue to ask these questions of my own work, I’ve started to consider a new one. What design decisions can I make to intuitively react to my work’s context? Though the concept should always be the driving force behind design, careful consideration of its context can lead to the creation of something really compelling.
Categories: Design, Outside the Square

Inspired by my colleague Joerg’s retrospection, I decided to take a peek back at some of my own ‘visual history.’ I found clear evidence of a long-standing love of and affinity for circles activated by, and connected with elements of line and plane.
Take, for example, these spreads from some of my first forays into (self-conscious) graphic design: editorial layouts for student publications, circa 1998. A motif is established; an aesthetic proclivity begins:
A year later, working on another publication, the circle as dynamic element reappears:
The women’s heads in the photograph (one of my first and only forays into photojournalism) act as a dynamic triad of circles:
In this last example, I’ve subconsciously integrated a dominant circle into the layout through photography (and yes, these photographs are of my own making):
As I stared down graduation and entry into the ‘real world,’ my use of circles grew more rigid, less free:
Fast forward eleven years. I’m still in love with circles; albeit more openly and consciously. Consider my earlier post about my ‘personal brand,’ or my post ‘For the Band‘:
Certainly—as my clients can attest—my design exploration regularly moves beyond the approaches and tendencies identified here. That said, it’s important to have the capacity to be self-reflexive, to embrace natural proclivities, and to control them in the service of clients and their communications. For designers striving to harness the basic, universal principles of design in infinite contexts, ‘aesthetic self-knowlege’ is critical.
Categories: Design, Outside the Square

2011 was a tremendously busy year at Sametz Blackstone — and 2012 is shaping up to be another year of compelling projects, fantastic clients, and much time spent exploring opportunities and tackling challenges as a team. We’re thrilled to be embarking on some new collaborations, and to have some fresh projects ramping up with old friends.
This is a tremendously exciting time to be doing what we do: never before has there been such a diverse range of communication tools and venues available to help organizations tell their stories, and build a “mosaic brand.”
Blog posts around New Year’s often focus on reflections on the year behind us, or predictions for the year ahead. We’re going to land somewhere in the middle, and share a few favorite posts from our blog over the last 12 months. Technically, that’s reflective, I suppose — but some of them had predictions, too!
We’ll be sharing more of our thinking in the months ahead, and celebrating some great achievements by our friends and partners.
Stay tuned.. and the very happiest of New Year’s to you and yours.
Our New Year’s video from last year — a labor of love
What happens when great design and great music come together
A favorite identity from the past year — and a project we’re proud to be a part of
Everyone gets a turn with the markers and whiteboard around here
“Adopsters”… the hipsters of social media
Sametz Blackstone 101: so is it an actual “cup of tea”, or?
Director of Design, Joerg, looks back in time… and finds that it flies
A can by any other color would not taste as sweet?
Thanks for coming by today — and join us for more in 2012!
Categories: Branding, Design, Digital Media, Nonprofits, Outside the Square, Strategy and Management

Subtle and spectacular: two words that describe the colors of the Arizona landscape. The daytime palette is dominated by blue skies and red earth, punctuated by the soft green of cacti and desert scrub and the mellow beige, gold, and brown of dry grass.
As evening approaches, the blues transition to lavender and purple; the reds shift to crimson and maroon. The once-saturated colors wash together to produce a gradient of extreme subtlety.
Somehow, Southwest Airlines has managed to capture that palette in their livery. The airline’s palette isn’t subtle or sophisticated, mind you. In fact, until I visited Arizona, I thought of Southwest’s as one of the uglier liveries on the nation’s runways.
But now I understand that it works. They’ve managed to evoke a palette that would be impossible to replicate on aluminum (and, indeed, is impossible to replicate photographically.)
Now, when I see their planes, I’m reminded of, and transported to the transcendent moments of extreme beauty we experienced driving and hiking through the Arizona landscape. Their brand uses color as a reference or reminder of something much more powerful than could ever be designed or distributed.
Southwest (their aircraft and their brand) becomes both the literal and metaphorical connection between customer and place.
Categories: Branding, Design, Outside the Square

There is something romantic about old signs.
Ghost signs, fading away over time.
Signs for businesses — often no longer in existence — that we walk or drive by each day. They were fabricated in the era when signs were hand-lettered, painted on the sides of buildings, and sometimes burnished with gold leaf. They were posted prior to the days of characterless, generic awning signs, or box signs with fluorescent lights illuminating cut vinyl from the rear.
(And clearly also before the days of spell check, and signage regulations!)
These signs have a vernacular aesthetic that has evolved over time to reflect the environmental, cultural, and historical context in which they exist — much like vernacular architecture. Often they are just text with an occasional graphic element; all caps with sans-serif type seems to be the most ubiquitous treatment.
What follows is a sample of signs I see in my daily travels. Some have already been taken down since the photos were snapped, or will soon disappear as the buildings they grace are “rehabbed”. Once in a while, you may see a new sign made to look like a ghost sign… but they are far from standard.
So tell me, where are some of your favorite fading beauties?
Categories: Outside the Square, Photography

If you’re a loyal Coke drinker, you’re likely feeling a little confused these days.
Recently, when you scanned the soda aisle at the grocery store looking for your familiar red and white can, you may have wondered if you’d accidentally landed in the wrong section. But, wait… all the other soda is here. So where’s the Coke? They can’t be out of Coke.
Then, after another scan and a squint: “Wait, is THAT what I’m looking for?!”
And you’re not alone: many loyal fans have been greeting the new white Coke can pictured above in a similar way. The new design, complete with silver polar bears, was a cause marketing effort recently introduced by Coca-Cola Company, in partnership with the World Wildlife Fund.
In a statement to their confused fan base, Coke explained that the campaign was launched to highlight the threat global warming poses to the Arctic habitat of the polar bear. They designed the white can to be bold and attention-grabbing –and most importantly, to “reinforce” the campaign theme.
However, most customers didn’t buy it — literally.
Some buyers wondered if the cans actually contained the Coke they knew and loved, and as a result, were reluctant to put them in their grocery baskets. Another — likely foreseeable — complaint arose from the similarity of the polar bear design and the Diet Coke can: many consumers purchased the non-diet formula in the polar bear can, and didn’t realize they were getting more than one calorie until they took a swig.
And with the most subjective response of them all — though potentially the most damaging — some longtime Coke drinkers said the new can had an impact on the taste.
I think it’s a beautiful design, actually – but does the aesthetic value of the design really have anything to do with the buzz? Personally, I don’t think so. It’s more of a failure of expectation, and a failure to respect their own brand equity.
Coke’s customers have developed a solid brand loyalty over the years to the company’s iconic visual system — a system that both drives and relies on their emotional attachments to a certain look and feel.
A red can = Classic Coca Cola.
A silver and white can = Diet Coke.
They also sell Coke Zero in distinctive black cans that were introduced in 2005 — but the design clearly signaled “new product!” when they launched the formula.
The system is internationally recognizable, and has sustained value over time, even through the New Coke debacle and various successful and unsuccessful product extensions. That’s why the new holiday design was not simply a swapping of brand colors, but a risky muddling of a well-established system… and in the end, it failed to engage their loyal customers.
Another example: imagine waking up one day to discover that the colors on the ubiquitous McDonald’s logo had switched. Now the arches are red, and name is yellow. The shock would be instant… and understandable. Visual systems give us something to connect to, both consciously and subconsciously. While adding a little dissonance to a design can be a positive kind of disruption, flipping the whole system on its ear is a dangerous decision for a major brand to make.
In response to the wave of negative reactions, Coke announced a recall of the white cans from the shelves, and introduced a seasonal red can of a similar design “to maintain the excitement” of the campaign.
I think that’s a smart move; not only because customers will find what they’re looking for in the soda aisle more easily, but because Coke decided to reward brand allegiance, and make a truly customer-responsive change. Hopefully the polar bears will benefit, too!
Categories: Design, Outside the Square
