This article originally appeared on
Imprint.
Before there was a Justin Bieber — before there was even a Justin Timberlake — there was Donny Osmond. One summer night in the 1970s, my poor older brother, Mike, was forced to take his preteen sisters to see Donny and those other Osmonds, as well as the Jackson 5, at New York’s Madison Square Garden.
Imagine the stress of worrying about two adolescent girls and their obligatory mutual friend dancing their way down from the cheap seats to the slightly better view one section below. Mike was in college, and my sister and I weren’t even in high school yet. I guess that’s why our brother sat ducked down in his seat, hiding behind a newspaper.
16 was my first magazine subscription, though I never got to send away for any of the groovy posters or luv kits. 16 and Spec were essentially the same publication, but the idea of reading a magazine called 16 made me feel older—you know, more mature.
Gloria Stavers was 16 magazine in the early 1970s. She met its owner, Jacques Chambrun, in 1958 and signed on as office staff for the nascent publication. She checked reader mail and fulfilled subscriptions, all the while studying young readers’ needs. She soon made a name for herself in the entertainment industry with her list of questions compiled from the typical queries the magazine received — “40 Intimate Questions.” By late 1958, Chambrun named Stavers editor in chief of 16. The writer Dave Marsh calls her the “first real pop journalist.”
Stavers published teen idols’ loves ’n’ hates, baby pix, and wonderfully whitewashed life stories. There was no sex to speak of, though there was an implied — and completely benign — sexiness in some of the feature titles (“What I Do After Dark!”). The stories were upbeat, and the stars didn’t have things like drug or alcohol problems. There were lots of exclamation marks and no sordid scandals. And ohhhh, the pinups that were carefully removed from the center of the book and taped to my bedroom walls …
The 16 mag (always mag, never magazine) of my childhood asked squealing preteens to choose between Donny, David, and Michael. Though I did like David Cassidy and his groovy hair, and enjoyed a little Donny from time to time, my heart ultimately belonged to Michael Jackson. He seemed like a shy guy, which was intriguing, and Michael didn’t get quite as much magazine real estate as Donny. I always rooted for the underdog, even back in 1973.
I was past my teen-mag expiration date by the time Andy and David Williams and Shaun Cassidy became fave raves. And I never quite understood the appeal of Randy Mantooth or Rick Springfield, though I always had a huge crush on Scott Jacoby.
1970s-era Spec and 16 inspired my love of publication design. Looking back, of course, they’re both pretty cheesy but also charming and unself-conscious with their rub-down type and Chartpak rules. The colors! The illustrations!
These are my teen mags, by the way, not eBay purchases—though admittedly, I’ve been seriously tempted…
Number one fan:
I thought I was cured.
About a decade ago, I vowed to put a cap on my bottle cap collection, after being injured in the line of duty (an embarrassing story I’ve recounted way past its expiration date, I’m afraid). I was through with mining for small objects, but recently started “pinning” a few crowns on Pinterest just for fun. I figured I’d scratch my recurring itch to admire tiny things by sharing them with anyone who would take a moment to look. Problem solved.
And then a friend gave me a bunch of old matchbox labels.
I am doing everything in my power to resist the urge to start searching online for more of these lovely mini-posters. This past weekend, I spent most of Saturday scanning the fragile slips of paper (pathetic, no?), wondering if my friend had any more labels that she might have forgotten to give me. Would a phone call be too forward? Perhaps a text would be less urgent, or I could play it cool and just email.
Matchbox and book collectors are called phillumenists, a very fancy and official name. Bottle cap collectors are called hoarders. Both collections take up minimal space in the home, though bottle caps are easy to slip on, and you can end up on crutches for sixteen weeks after knee surgery (or so I’ve heard).
I found a great Flickr page on the interwebs that’s comprehensive and factoid-filled. And there even appear to be a few clubs for collectors, not unlike the bottle cap club I once belonged to. Both crowns and matchbox labels are shining examples of good ol’ graphic design back before it was even called commercial art. And both collections can be started without actually standing up, getting in a car, and going to a flea market, thanks to eBay (though the thrill is in the hunt and the joy is in the chit-chat with like-minded enthusiasts).
“Safety matches” were given that name because they weren’t as noxious and dangerous as their phosphorous-based forerunners, the “friction light.” In the mid-1850s, a phosphorous-free match was introduced that ignited―so to speak―the demand for red-tipped safety matches. That demand spread through Europe, and while match factories were prone to explosions and fires, those that survived merged and formed conglomerates. Matches were first sold loose, then in wooden or cardboard pillboxes. Eastern Europe had the best timber for making matches, creating a global match market. The earliest matchboxes were low on high-design―and then God said, “Let there be advertising.”
Anyway, there are books and websites filled with combustible eye candy, so think of this small sampling as a free appetizer at Friendly’s, or maybe Friday’s. It’s like a never-ending supply of hot wings. Mmmmmm.
Copyright F+W Media Inc. 2012.
Salon is proud to feature content from Imprint, the fastest-growing design community on the web. Brought to you by Print magazine, America’s oldest and most trusted design voice, Imprint features some of the biggest names in the industry covering visual culture from every angle. Imprint advances and expands the design conversation, providing fresh daily content to the community (and now to salon.com!), sparking conversation, competition, criticism, and passion among its members.
This article originally appeared on
Imprint.
Jessie Gang is passionate about design ― and designers ― so much so that she’s hard at work on an ongoing series of “icons of graphic design” portraits ― “Jessie’s Gang.”
Jessie, a graphic and product design major at the School of Visual Arts, admits (with a smile) to papering her walls with creations by some of her favorite artists, and in some cases, instructors. The work serves as Jessie’s daily dose of inspiration, and prompted her to immortalize her heroes on paper.
Paula Scher
These simple ink drawings made me smile. And the portrait of Paula Scher ― also one of my heroes ― is kind of genius. But Jessie’s earnest humor is what captivated me more than anything.
“My impression of Steve Heller,” she says, “is that cute man who is so passionate about what he does. His entire look is adorable.” I concur, and was even able to get somewhat of a thumb’s up from the man himself (“She nailed … my ears.”).
Mr. Heller
The length of time spent on each portrait is sometimes based on how well Jessie knows her subjects. She is fortunate to have been selected for an honors class with no less than Ivan Chermayeff and Tom Geismar. Of the storied duo, Jessie comments, “They’re both so clever, and their partnership is heartwarming. They’ve achieved together, but also have tremendous names for themselves individually. There’s an interesting balance to their partnership that I get to witness each week, and that’s what made their portraits come pretty freely. As an instructor, Tom is nice and yet strict, and Ivan is the type of creative person who ponders several directions as he finds his ideas. It seems like a wonderful balance filled with mutual respect.”
Ivan Chermayeff
Tom Geismar
“I don’t know Paul Sahre,” Jessie says, “but I’ve always heard about him. He seems like an edgy, contemporary designer. It took awhile to capture him because I don’t have the same personal experience with him as some of my other heroes.”
“When I think of Milton Glaser, bright colorful patterns come to mind, she continues, “so that one was easy.”
Jessie’s focusing next on important designing women (Louise Fili, for example, not TV’s Delta Burke). And she’s pondering some of the up-and-coming female designers. “There are women who are making an impact right out of the gate, so I’ve got my work cut out for me,” she says with a smile.
What to do with Jessie’s gang? A blog? A book? A hat? A brooch? A pterodactyl?
Milton Glaser
Carin Goldberg
Saul Bass
Paul Rand
Paul―this time, Sahre
Copyright F+W Media Inc. 2012.
Salon is proud to feature content from Imprint, the fastest-growing design community on the web. Brought to you by Print magazine, America’s oldest and most trusted design voice, Imprint features some of the biggest names in the industry covering visual culture from every angle. Imprint advances and expands the design conversation, providing fresh daily content to the community (and now to salon.com!), sparking conversation, competition, criticism, and passion among its members.
This article originally appeared on
Imprint.
Muddyum Choudhury likes to play with words. In fact, even the name she uses professionally―Muddyum―is a clever twist on the phonetic pronunciation of her given name, Maryam. “It’s a name no one else has and everyone remembers,” the Pakistani-Italian American designer and illustrator says.
Muddyum is inspired by everyday objects, typography, puzzles, puns and her home turf: New York City. In the last six months, she’s been chipping away at a personal project she calls WordPlay, using found objects to create familiar idioms. “I love playing with words and creating designs that make people laugh,” Muddyum says. “WordPlay has been really fun for me because I’m taking two things I love; food and type, and am creating, in many cases, edible type.”
Jellyfish
Muddyum now has a Tumblr home for her brain teasers, and is about to create a WordPlay iPhone app with PicPocket Books. “It’s been really nice to step away from the computer and get a little messy,” she says as she shifts into high gear to generate a plethora of puzzles. “There will be different, increasingly challenging levels using all kinds of fun categories, including food, of course.” Muddyum also has big plans for a WordPlay book―the perfect appetizer―declaring, “You can entertain guests and give them the automatic munchies.”
Why is this all so intriguing? I met Muddyum at a summer type workshop last year, and was completely amused by the idea of WordPlay. “You’ve got to do a blog, or a book, or something with this,” I recall blurting out in one breath. I wanted to make my own. I wanted to give the assignment as a project. I wanted to pretty much send Muddyum on a really long vacation and steal the idea. And now it’s going to be an app. Jealousy, thy name is Gail.
Now it’s your turn to guess.
The appetizer before a TV dinner.
Easy one.
A tasty dessert.
My favorite cheese.
Heh heh.
Copyright F+W Media Inc. 2012.
Salon is proud to feature content from Imprint, the fastest-growing design community on the web. Brought to you by Print magazine, America’s oldest and most trusted design voice, Imprint features some of the biggest names in the industry covering visual culture from every angle. Imprint advances and expands the design conversation, providing fresh daily content to the community (and now to salon.com!), sparking conversation, competition, criticism, and passion among its members.
This article originally appeared on
Imprint.
I think of fashion as a medium of communication,” says Victor-John Villanueva. “It can convey ideas, both large and small. On a very personal level, it can convey your mood and state of mind.”
On Feb. 13, Victor became a Fab.com sensation when he officially launched 3PTPOP with a plan to bridge the gap between art and fashion — fashion communication. He’ll be accomplishing that with his line of celebrity fusible bead portraits, using Perler beads, those plastic objects you were tempted to chew on as a kid.
Anna Wintour on a chain
Pharrell NERD type
I first met Victor in 1997, when he was a sophomore Literature and Rhetoric major at SUNY Binghamton. Victor was considering becoming a graphic designer, and when next we met, he’d transferred to the School of Visual Arts to pursue his passion. Next came a stint as a Simon & Schuster book jacket designer, and in 2003, after two years in publishing, Victor participated in the JET program (Japan English Teaching Programme), sharing his culture with townspeople and teaching ESL. “I relocated from an office on 49th and 6th to a tiny school in a town of 7,000 in Kochi Prefecture, Japan,” Victor recalls. “The move was a game changer.”
Pixel Victor
“Japan brought another level of depth to my artistic and personal development,” he continues. In the beginning, Victor’s slightest efforts to communicate were difficult, but by the end, he was able to negotiate with real estate brokers. “Japan took me outside of my world as I’d known it to that point,” he says. “I made great friends and learned a lot about myself.”
Upon his return to New York, Victor became the art director of New York City Opera — after showing a body of personal work he’d created about his experiences abroad. And Victor soon got his fashion on (Do the kids still say that?), creating T-shirts emblazoned with hand-painted portraits of style icons like Vogue’s André Leon Talley, writer Glenn O’Brien, Lynn Yaeger, Kim Hastreiter, and Simon Doonan. Victor’s T-shirts garnered press from The New York Times, New York, Paper, and GQ.com—and even made appearances (the T-shirts, not Victor) on Martha Stewart’s TV show, and “America’s Next Top Model.”
Next came the fusible beads.
Bill Cunningham and camera
“When I bead, I feel as though I am painting a picture,” Victor says. “Big patches of color here, small strokes there.” Just like anything new, there is a learning curve associated with the beading. “After I select the person I want to create, I pixelate reference photos on my computer and use them as a basis for the picture.” After creating an initial sketch, Victor goes back and refines the details. “It’s strange how sometimes the placement of one bead can really make or break a piece,” he says.
Victor works in his NYC home studio, a space filled with inspirational toys, fashion, design, art, and books. He coats his fusible bead portraits in resin himself, a process refined through trial and error — and open windows. “I’m really inspired by artists who use resin in their work,” he says. “Maybe it’s the synthetic nature, or the durability of it. It was natural for me to want to make the portraits more permanent.”
Victor hopes 3PTPOP will grow as a brand that straddles the worlds of art and fashion. “I envision creating collections based on pop culture icons who’ve had an influence on me,” he says. “In that way, the work becomes kind of a diary of the pop culture addict within me.”
The always dapper Karl Lagerfeld
Victor sports Lady Gaga
The fusible factory
The beads, the brand
The ultimate style icon
Copyright F+W Media Inc. 2012.
Salon is proud to feature content from Imprint, the fastest-growing design community on the web. Brought to you by Print magazine, America’s oldest and most trusted design voice, Imprint features some of the biggest names in the industry covering visual culture from every angle. Imprint advances and expands the design conversation, providing fresh daily content to the community (and now to salon.com!), sparking conversation, competition, criticism, and passion among its members.
This article originally appeared on
Imprint.
I’ve been slightly obsessed with portable roadside signage since I first encountered a stretch of white boxes with flashing red arrows along Route 28 in upstate New York. I’d certainly seen that form of advertising before, but didn’t realize how ubiquitous it was throughout rural America (or admittedly, what little I know of rural America).
I fantasized about owning a portable sign of my very own, and made mental lists of what it would say. In the end, the beauty of the sign was in its flexibility. I could advertise a pancake breakfast one week and a yard sale the next. Maybe I’d post words of wisdom, or raise philosophical questions. I could keep it in the yard as an art installation of sorts, or hitch it to my car and drag it to the end of the driveway to alert the fire department. It seemed like an investment that would pay for itself.
I was surprised that portable signs actually weren’t that expensive. I could get a nice setup for under $500, or for about $1,300 on wheels. Poking around online to find distributors was easy-breezy; there was no shortage of reader board vendors. The font selection was a bit sparse, but several sources had fancy faux dimensional options (though I’m a traditionalist and would stick to the simple “Block”). A design tip on signwire.com cautions, ”Always, always check your spelling.” Words to live by.
Copyright F+W Media Inc. 2012.
Salon is proud to feature content from Imprint, the fastest-growing design community on the web. Brought to you by Print magazine, America’s oldest and most trusted design voice, Imprint features some of the biggest names in the industry covering visual culture from every angle. Imprint advances and expands the design conversation, providing fresh daily content to the community (and now to salon.com!), sparking conversation, competition, criticism, and passion among its members.
Carin Goldberg (Credit: Jessie Gang) 
Glue stick (Credit: Muddyum Choudhury) 
