My shovel is old, ragged, the wood protesting loudly in its conversation with the stubborn, packed dirt of my backyard.

Schluct…schluct…

On August 3, 8:45 PM, I found my Cocker Spaniel, Sadie, lying by my nautilus equipment. I hadn’t seen her for the better part of the day and was a little concerned. She was old. 18 years. She had been having some breathing problems lately. Just that morning, I’d mentioned to my wife that we were going to have that uncomfortable conversation that dog owners have as their dogs approach the end. You can feel it, when its coming. As stupid as that sounds, as cryptic and dramatic – it’s the truth. You can feel it in your bones.

My daughter, Alyx, and I were watching Veronica Mars on DVD. We paused between episodes to get a drink and a snack. A sandwich. Turkey, lettuce, mayo, cheese on white. We finished and I mentioned before continuing, I hadn’t seen Sadie today. She had the habit of occasionally going downstairs to lie on the concrete floor. It was cool in the summer heat and she liked that.

Schluct…schluct…

It has to be deep, this hole. My arms shudder as I smash into a shoe-sized rock, unyielding. Sweat covers my face and shirt, damp crescents beneath my arms. I’m certain my wife and children can’t tell I’m crying. The sweat masks it. I’m certain the sweat masks it.

I clicked on the light in the basement and walked down the steps, avoiding the choice article of clothing here and there left by a rushed wife or child. I looked to the left. Nothing evident. To the right, just clothing by the washer and dryer, stacked in Egyptian pyramids by color or material.

I move to the left, past the clothes. I see her, lying next to my nautilus. Next to her is a small pool of water, collected from our tired, choked air conditioning. In the light, I can see a thin ribbon of crimson, coiled around itself, snake-like.

Schluct…schluct…

It’s taking forever to dig this hole. My wife helps, but I only allow it briefly – to allow me to get a drink. Sadie was my dog. She was always my dog. And this is my work, my responsibility, though we all share the loss. I’m thinking about the hole and the ugly sound my shovel makes when it begrudgingly pierces earth. Somewhere behind me, my daughter is crying.

“Sadie?” I said, not quite whispering. My daughter was waiting half-way down the steps. She could hear it in my voice. She said something under her breath. I nudged Sadie. She was stiff. Cold, fluid mouse-tailing from her nose. I returned to the steps and caught my daughter’s eyes.

It was a long moment. We look into each others eyes. No words.

“I need to call your Mother.”

Schluct…schluct…

“We always bury our animals in the ground, Alyx. Why do you think we do that?”

“So they go to heaven?”

“But that’s not why we do it. Why do you think we do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“So they help create new life. That’s their next journey. We feed them to the earth and they feed life on earth. As hard as it is to understand or hear, that’s how Mother Nature likes it. And as hard as it is to understand or hear, it’s a noble journey.”

Schluct…Schluct…

She was watching her friend’s dogs while they were on vacation. Her cell phone was ringing. I suspect she was probably already asleep. She had to get up early the next morning for her landscaping work. It was going to be hot and humid so she would start early.

“Hello.” She said, her voice crusted with Nod.

“You need to come home.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You need to come home. Sadie. Sadie’s gone.”

I sway backwards. It’s deep enough. It’s finally deep enough. I climb out of the hole, knees quivering.

“Now, the hard part…”

Wheezing, I grab a blanket and descend into the basement. I wrap her body in the blanket and walk upstairs and outside. Everyone is there, waiting. I carefully place the bundle into the hole and my wife and I begin to fill it. It doesn’t take long.
Now we stand at the grave, sniffling. My daughter is crying, but no one is saying anything. Someone should say something.

“My one regret is that I wasn’t there with you…to see you off. On your journey. I’m sorry.

“I’m sorry…goodbye…”

• Add header color to the top of pages
• Add logo design to top of pages
• Change article titles to work in context with logo design (still working out the coding details on that one, given Textpattern’s backend)
• Shift logo mark over 12px to left
• Move SEARCH bar to right column, as most folks would expect the SEARCH location
• Change the RSS / ATOM info in the left column to a standarized icon
• Still debating the location of the primary navigation in the left column

Dear Hollywood,

I love some of your stories. Really. I go on about them to my friends, peers, and colleagues, referencing lines, bits of plot embellished with compelling monologues, all dressed in watercooler-speak. I love some of your stories.

Some of them.

You’ve shown me time and time again, just when I thought you’d lost your way down the labyrinthine couloirs of storytelling and commercial viability, you can change things up. Show some daring. Surprise me. You’ve shown me that you’re not afraid to take the three act structure I so culturally adore and artfully shuffle it, tracing it onto my mind like an elegant tattoo. You’ve informed me that regardless of the endless sequels that seep out your convoluted mindspace, you’re not afraid to show some brain matter, piloted by visionary independence. You’ve made me laugh, and yes, you’ve traumatized me to tears.

But…

You were waiting for that, weren’t you? You know me well.

Or do you?

I’m not certain you understand — or maybe you do, but simply don’t care — that it’s all about the story, not the actors with which you populate them. Sure, actors can offer some name recognition, some marketing buzz to orbit around your stories. They can offer a trite or ugly story some much needed mascara in hopes of fooling the audience you desperately need to seduce. They offer blatant sex appeal, which collides with us on an instinctual level, but you know what? That doesn’t mean it’s going to be a good movie. It doesn’t correlate to a good story. It’s all about the story.

To buttress my point, you have to consider how quickly word gets out. Early film buzz is a uppity thing for your bottom line, but we live in the age of the Internet now, so if early buzz transforms into rotten buzz after opening night, your bottom line tops out and your buzz sounds more so like fingers on a chalkboard. Buzzdeath. Buzz’d. We know if it’s certified fresh — almost instantly (well, at the click of a button, anyway).

So please, in the future, consider the “wellspring from which you flow.” Consider the writer, his vision, and the structure by which he tells the tale. Your beautiful actors, your special effects, they will not rescue a poor, underdeveloped, undernourished story. It’s the stories that should be handsome, virile, and sexy, (though not necessarily sexually).

I have faith you’ll make the right choice.

Or at least a commercially marketable one.

Very best regards,

Craig

P.S. Could you do us all a bit of a favor and contact some of these movie theaters and ask them to lower the price of refreshments (i.e. soda, popcorn, candy, e.g.)? I consider this an integral element of the “movie experience.” And it’s getting a little expensive too view one of your films when the entire experience costs in excess of $40. That’s, uh…nine whole gallons of gas.

Oh, and uh, while you’re at it, how about those in-theater advertisements? It seems to me that I’m actually paying to watch these, which is terribly, obscenely uncool.

Thanks for your time.

As I write this, the Dell machine in my University office is droning incessantly, its fan sounding like an irritated refrigerator that can’t or won’t keep up to the sweltering summer temperatures. She’s old, my Dell, and bloated and can’t quite focus on the task at hand. Her processor clicks at me through the speakers when I Adobe my way through a design project, complying, slowly, yet protesting all the while. Binary complaints.

Fortunately, at home, I work with something less Rosanne Barr, more Monica Bellucci.

Recently, I was contacted by Ron Mitchell, President of MTec Systems, for a logo redesign. MTec Systems is a turn-key organization, leveraging hardware, software, network communications, and Internet development. Ron requested that I nudge their branding a bit, modernize it. The new logo should be:

• Flexible, allowing for multiple media outlets (t-shirts, print collateral, web media, etc.).
• Present a platform from which the company can springboard to build its new brand.
• As always, work well in either color or black/white (meaning we will not be exploring 3-dimensional logo options like Xerox or AT&T’s new logos, respectively).

Nothing new here, really. The above guidelines should apply to all logo design work.

Undiscovered Context

After looking at some of MTec’s promotional material and Web site, I scribbled down a number of metaphors (in my trusty Moleskine) to explore with the logo mark.

• Web development
• Firewalls
• Wireless Connectivity
• Networking
• Integration

All of those seemed like worthwhile approaches, but after a number of sketches and conversations with myself, to myself, in the company of others, I chose to explore the concept of INTEGRATION. It’s the raw, bloody heart of any networked computer system, it has an exceptionally marketable, positive message, and allows for a flexible approach.

I view this part of the design process very much like finding the borders of a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. To solve the puzzle, you need a framework to operate within. Once that framework is established, decisions may come very quickly, but finding the heart of your approach is key to any successful design project.

Context is king.

Facing Shapes & Shaving Faces

Exploring typographic options tend to take the most of my time once the context of the logo mark is discovered. I whittle away the hours of the evening at Hoefler & Frere-Jones, looking for that typeface that properly communicates the context for which I’m searching.

In this instance, the choices came fairly quickly, but the decision took a bit of work. I wanted a generally approachable sans-serif typeface – friendly and light weight yet corporate. Caslon was in the running, as was Futura. Ultimately, I chose to work with Gill Sans. I felt the cut of the stem of the lowercase ‘t’ was particularly interesting and worked well with my theme of integration. Unfortunately, the ‘m’ didn’t want to play well in context.

Hence, artistic license. I cut the stem of the ‘m’ to complement the ‘t’ and create a manner of consistency between the two letterforms.

Completing the Circuit

The next step in my design process is creating form from the previous foundation work. Having established my context from company research, chosen the iconography of my typefaces (and whatever variations to that typeface required to complement the context), I pursue the word mark, the icon, that will further complement the logo design. All letterforms, shapes, and spaces are game in this step of my process.

Exploring the context of INTEGRATION, I‘ve uploaded the important steps of this process to my Flickr account to better embellish on the flexibility, the malleability of this step. While the sketches do not clearly indicate my type choice (a conscious decision on my part to avoid restraint beyond the context I am working within), they should clearly denote my progression from one topic to another as I try to hone in on the mark.

Integration, yet simplicity. Networking. A number of computer components working in tandem, fluidly, to provide an information rich environment. One point connecting to another connecting to another.

A perfect circle colliding with the letterforms. No, not colliding. Integrating with the letterforms, yet not so much as to obscure the readability of the letterforms.

Paint’d

Color is the next step in my design process. There’s not much I can add here that hasn’t been stated or re-stated in one form or another on countless other design web logs. I keep color solutions simple to ensure cross media needs (clothing, print, web, etc.).

After offering a number of options to the client, exploring several approaches, we landed on squarely on blue. Cool blue with a hint of red. PMS 288.

Colliding Conclusions and A Few Resources

And that’s my process. It’s fairly well structured, but flexible to allow for special considerations with those picky clients. In this case, however, Ron was very satisfied with the final logo design.

To better supplement this post, I’ve included a few links below of various other logo design techniques and approaches you may want to explore when you have a moment. While I don’t necessarily agree with their respective approaches, it’s worth exploring to be informed. Finding your own rhythm is the beauty of communication design.

• How to Design a Logo from Just Creative
• How to Design a Logo from Concept to Completion from Spoon Graphics
• Find Your Identity from Peachpit

That’s a wrap. My Dell’s finally reluctantly quieted. I’m going to defragment her this weekend to see if this adjusts her attitude. Who knows? Maybe she’s just churning for retirement.

Okay, had a few problems with Wordpress, so I’ve switched to the Textpattern content management system. Bear with me for a few days while I get everything in functioning order. We’ll move forward accordingly.