When I went to design school %#*! years ago, Philip Meggs’ History of Graphic Design was required reading, well, for our graphic design history classes. I remember that nearly all the examples in the book were European men. So I’m glad there’s a new edition coming out that broadens the history to include more.

Cheryl D. Holmes-Miller writing in PRINT Magazine about the forthcoming 7th Edition of Meggs’ History of Graphic Design:

The 7th Edition is a reformation — dismantling the core barriers that have kept many of us from realizing our full potential in this field. It will make a transformative difference for years to come. The next generation of designers will find themselves in the history of graphic design and propel the industry forward.

Holmes-Miller asked the book’s co-editor, Sandra Maxa about the “restructuring of the historical timeline and how this shift might affect educators whose weekly lectures have long relied on the linear storytelling approach.” To which Maxa said:

“To create a new edition that is relevant to students today, we used a more direct writing style and stronger representation of designers from different backgrounds,” she said. “We also advocated for restructuring the new edition around themes instead of chronology to avoid implying a hierarchy that comes with presenting something as ‘the first.’” Maxa continued, “Including diverse voices and practices of graphic design is integral to situating the work of graphic designers today with cultural and social contexts of the past and inviting broader participation and interpretation from readers to construct a shared history of graphic design.”

I suppose there are two types of souvenirs that we can pick up while traveling: mass-manufactured tchotchkes like fridge magnets or snow globes, or local artisan-made trinkets and wares. The latter has come to represent cultures outside of their locales, an opportunity for tourists to take a little bit of their experiences with them home.

Louisa Eunice writing in Design Observer:

The souvenir industry, though vital for many local economies, has long been accused of flattening cultural complexity into digestible clichés, transforming sacred objects into décor, and replacing sustainable materials with cheaper alternatives to meet demand. Yet for countless artisans, participation in that market remains a practical act of endurance: a way to keep culture visible in a world that might otherwise forget it.

So on the flip side, though these souvenirs reduce the cultures of those places to a carved giraffe, sculpted clay bird, or ceremonial mask, I would argue that at least the artifacts can spark conversation.

The fact that a mask can be both a ritual object for the local artisan who made it and a decorative item for the tourist who bought it says more about resilience than dilution. It reveals how objects can inhabit multiple meanings without losing their essence. What we often call “appropriation” may, in these moments, also be adaptation, a negotiation that allows heritage to stay visible, if altered, in the modern world. 

To understand souvenirs this way is to see them not as hollow tokens but as collaborations: between maker and buyer, local and global, art and economy. When tourists view these pieces as design legacies — works that carry labor, history, and symbolism — the exchange becomes more than commercial. It becomes cultural continuity in motion.

Did you know that Apple made Office before Microsoft made Office? It was called AppleWorks and launched in 1984 for the Apple II. They’d make it for the Mac in 1991 and called it ClarisWorks because Apple spun off a software subsidiary for who knows what reason.

Howard Oakley recently wrote a brief history of AppleWorks and shared some nice visuals. Though I wished he included an image from that original Apple II text-based AppleWorks as well.

’Tis the season for online archives. From GQ comes this archive of the work of Virgil Abloh, the multi-hyphenate creative powerhouse who started as an intern at Fendi and rose to found his own streetwear label Off-White, before becoming artistic director of Louis Vuitton’s menswear collection. He had collabs with Nike, IKEA, and artist Jenny Holzer.

I do think my favorite from this archive is his collection of LV bags. I’m used to seeing them in monochromatic colors, not these bright ones.

In a world where case studies dominate portfolios, explaining the problem and sharing the outcomes, a visuals-only gallery feels old fashioned. But Pentagram has earned the right to compile their own online monograph. It is one of the very few agencies in the world who could pull together an archive like this that features over 2,000 projects spanning their 53-year existence.

Try searches like: album covers, New York City, SNL, and Paula Scher.

*The folks at Pentagram aren’t complete heretics. They have a more traditional case studies section here.

I will say that A-ha’s 1985 hit “Take On Me” and its accompanying video was incredibly influential on me as a kid. Listening to the struggles the band endured and the constant tuning of the song they did is very inspiring. In an episode of Song Exploder, Hrishikesh Hirway interviews Paul Waaktaar-Savoy, who originally wrote the bones of the song as a teenager, about the creative journey the band took to realize the version we know and love.

Hirway:

Okay, so you have spent the whole budget and then this version of the song comes out in 1984, and it flops. How were you able to convince anybody to give you another chance? Or maybe even more so, I’m curious, for your own sake: How were you able to feel like that wasn’t the end of the road for the song? Like, it had its chance, it didn’t happen, and that was that.

Waaktaar-Savoy:

Yeah, that’s the good thing about being young. You don’t feel, (chuckles) you know, you just sort of, brush it off your shoulders, you know. We were a hundred percent confident. We were like, there’s not a doubt in our minds.

…

…it took some time, you know, it was very touch and go. ‘Cause the, you know, they’ve spent this much money on the half-finished album. Are they gonna pour more money into it and risk losing more money? So, from Norway? Hey, no one comes from Norway and makes it. And so it was a risk for people.

Having gone to England from their native Norway, A-ha released two versions of the song in the UK before it became a hit in the US. With the help of the music video, of course.

A new record exec at the US arm of Warner Bros. took a liking to the band and the album, as Waaktaar-Savoy recalls:

And there was a new guy on the company, Jeff Ayeroff. He fell in love with the, the album and the song. And he had been keeping this one particular idea sort of in the back of his head. There was this art film called Commuter, with animation. So, he was the one who put together that with Steve Barron, who was the director.

And they made the video. And the song slowly climbed the charts to become a number one hit.

Designer Davide Mascioli created a book and online archive of over 450 space exploration-related logos from around the world.

It’s a wonderful archive—pretty exhaustive—and includes a smattering of logos from science fiction (though less exhaustive there, since there are so many sci-fi properties).

Here are some of my favorites (graphically)…

A former colleague of mine, designer Evan Sornstein wrote a wonderful piece on LinkedIn applying Buddhist principles to design.

Buddhism begins with the recognition that life is marked by impermanence, suffering, and non-self. These aren’t abstract doctrines — they are observations about how the world actually works. Over centuries, these ideas contributed to Japanese aesthetics: wabi-sabi (imperfection), ma (meaningful emptiness), yo no bi (beauty in usefulness), the humility of the shokunin, and the care of omotenashi. What emerges is not a set of rules, but an extraordinary perspective: beauty is inseparable from impermanence; usefulness is inseparable from dignity; care is inseparable from design. In an age when our digital products too often prioritize stickiness and metrics over humanity, these ideas offer a different path. They remind us that design is not about control or cleverness — it’s about connection, trust, and care.

The following eight principles aren’t new “methods” or “laws,” but reflections of this lineage, reframed for product design — though they apply to nearly any creative practice. They are invitations to design with the same attention, humility, and compassion that Buddhism and Japanese aesthetics have carried for centuries.

For as long as I can remember, I’d always loved magazines. Print magazines aren’t as trendy these days, but back in the day, I probably had at least a dozen magazine subscriptions. My favorites—naturally—were always the ones with great editorial design, art direction, and photography. Classics like Wired, Interview, Harper’s Bazaar, and Rolling Stone. And, of course, Colors.

The New York Times Magazine lists the top 25 magazine covers of all time. Their list includes classics like George Lois’s cover for Esquire posing Muhammad Ali as Saint Sebastian, the black on black post-9/11 cover for The New Yorker by Art Spiegelman and Françoise Mouly, and Annie Leibovitz’s photo of a clothed Yoko Ono and nude John Lennon for Rolling Stone.

Ian Dean, writing for Creative Bloq, revisits the impact the original TRON movie had on visual effects and the design industry. The film was not nominated for an Oscar for visual effects as the Academy’s members claimed that “using computers was ‘cheating.’” Little did they know it was only the beginning of a revolution.

More than four decades later, TRON still feels like a moment the film industry stopped and changed direction, just as it had done years earlier when Oz was colourised and Mary Poppins danced with animated animals.

Dean asks, now what about AI-powered visual effects? Runway and Sora are only the beginning.

If you’ve ever wondered why every version of Hokusai’s “The Great Wave off Kanagawa” feels just a little bit different, this video from the British Museum is a gem. It dives into the subtle variations across 111 known prints and shows how art, time, and technique all leave their mark.

Capucine Korenberg from the British Museum spent over 50 hours just staring at different versions of the print, joking “This is about the same amount of time you would spend brushing your teeth over two years. So, next time you brush your teeth just think of me looking at The Great Wave.”

Ah, this brings back memories! I spent so much time in MacPaint working with these patterns when I was young. Paul Smith faithfully recreates them:

I was working on something and thought it would be fun to use one of the classic Mac black-and-white patterns in the project. I’m talking about the original 8×8-pixel ones that were in the original Control Panel for setting the desktop background and in MacPaint as fill patterns.

I figured there’d must be clean, pixel-perfect GIFs or PNGs of them somewhere on the web. And perhaps there are, but after poking around a bit, I ran out of energy for that, but by then had a head of steam for extracting the patterns en masse from the original source, somehow. Then I could produce whatever format I needed for them.

Brad Frost, of atomic design fame, wrote a history of themeable UIs as part of a deep dive into design tokens. He writes, “Design tokens may be the latest incarnation, but software creators have been creating themeable user interfaces for quite a long time!”

About Mario and Luigi from Super Mario Bros.:

It’s wild that two of the most iconic characters in the history of pop culture — red-clad Mario and green-clad Luigi — are themeable UI elements born from pragmatic ingenuity to overcome technological challenges. Freaking amazing.

Here’s a fun project from Étienne Fortier-Dubois. It is both a timeline of tech innovations throughout history and a family tree. For example, the invention of the wheel led to chariots, or the ancestors of the bulletin board system were the home computer and the modem. From the about page:

The historical tech tree is a project by Étienne Fortier-Dubois to visualize the entire history of technologies, inventions, and (some) discoveries, from prehistory to today. Unlike other visualizations of the sort, the tree emphasizes the connections between technologies: prerequisites, improvements, inspirations, and so on.

These connections allow viewers to understand how technologies came about, at least to some degree, thus revealing the entire history in more detail than a simple timeline, and with more breadth than most historical narratives. The goal is not to predict future technology, except in the weak sense that knowing history can help form a better model of the world. Rather, the point of the tree is to create an easy way to explore the history of technology, discover unexpected patterns and connections, and generally make the complexity of modern tech feel less daunting.

The designer of the iconic “007” logo from the James Bond movies has died. Joe Caroff was 103. Jeré Longman, writing for The New York Times:

For the first Bond movie, “Dr. No” (1962), Mr. Caroff was hired to create a logo for the letterhead of a publicity release. He began working with the idea that as a secret agent, James Bond had a license to kill (as designated by the numerals “00”), but Mr. Caroff did not find Bond’s compact Walther PPK pistol to be visually appealing.

As he sketched the numerals 007, he drew penciled lines above and below to guide him and noticed that the upper guideline resembled an elongated barrel of a pistol extending from the seven.

He refined his drawing and added a trigger, fashioning a mood of intrigue and espionage and crafting one of the most globally recognized symbols in cinematic history. With some modifications, the logo has been used for 25 official Bond films and endless merchandising.

John Gruber of Daring Fireball also wrote a piece about Caroff:

Caroff had a remarkably accomplished career. He created iconic posters for dozens of terrific films across a slew of genres. The fact that he created the 007 logo but only earned $300 from it is more like a curious footnote than anything.

I grew up on MTV and I’m surprised that my Gen Z kids don’t watch music videos. ¯_(ツ)_/¯

Rob Schwartz, writing in PRINT Magazine:

…the network launched the iconic “I Want My MTV” ad campaign. Created by ad legend George Lois, the campaign featured the world’s biggest rock stars literally demanding MTV. At the time, this was unheard of. Unlike today, rock stars would never sell out to do ads. But here you had the biggest stars: Mick Jagger, David Bowie, Pete Townshend, the Police…and rising star Madonna, all shouting the same line in different executions: ‘I want my MTV!” The campaign was a stroke of genius. It mobilized viewers to call up their cable providers and shout over the phone: “I want my MTV!” In due time, MTV was on damn-near every cable box and damn-near every young person’s TV.

As a child of immigrant parents, I grew up learning English from watching PBS, Sesame Street, specifically. But there were other favorites like 3-2-1 Contact, The Electric Company, and of course, Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. The logo, with its head looking like a P was seared into my developing brain.

So I’m incredibly saddened to hear that the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, the government-funded entity behind PBS and NPR, will cease operations on September 30, 2025, because of a recent bill passed by the Republican-controlled Congress and signed into law by President Trump.

While PBS and NPR won’t disappear, it will be harder for those networks to stay afloat, now solely dependent on donations.

Lilly Smith, writing for Fast Company:

More than 70% of CPB’s annual federal appropriation goes directly to more than 1,500 local public media stations, according to a web page of its financials. This loss in funding could force local stations, especially in rural areas, to shut down, according to the CPB. Local member stations are independent and locally owned and operated, according to NPR. As a public-private partnership, local PBS stations get about 15% of their revenue from federal funding.

She reached out to Tom Geismar, who redesigned the PBS logo in 1984—the original was by Herb Lubalin and Ernie Smith in 1971. He had this perspective:

There is an ironic tie-in between the government decision to cut off all funding to public television and public radio, and what prompted the redesign of the PBS logo back in the early 1980s.

That was also a difficult time, financially, for the Public Broadcasting Service, and especially the stations in more remote regions of the country. Much of the public equated PBS with the major television networks CBS, NBC and ABC, and presumed that, like those major institutions, PBS was the parent of and significant funder for all the local public television stations throughout the country. But, in fact, the reality is somewhat the opposite. Although PBS local affiliates received a portion of funding from the federal government, it is the individual stations that have the responsibility to do public fund raising, and PBS, in a sense, works for them.

Because of this confusion, the PBS leadership felt that their existing logo (a famous design by by Herb Lubalin) needed to be more than just the classic 3-initials mark, something more evocative of a public-benefit system serving all people. Thus the “everyone” mark was born.

Geismar ends with, “And now, once again, with federal government funding stopped, it is the stations in the less populous regions who will suffer the most.”

Jay Hoffman, writing in his excellent The History of the Web website, reflects on Kevin Kelly’s 2005 Wired piece that celebrated the explosive growth of blogging—50 million blogs, one created every two seconds—and predicted a future powered by open participation and user-created content. Kelly was right about the power of audiences becoming creators, but he missed the crucial detail: 2005 would mark the peak of that open web participation before everyone moved into centralized platforms.

There are still a lot of blogs, 600 million by some accounts. But they have been supplanted over the years by social media networks. Commerce on the web has consolidated among fewer and fewer sites. Open source continues to be a major backbone to web technologies, but it is underfunded and powered almost entirely by the generosity of its contributors. Open API’s barely exist. Forums and comment sections are finding it harder and harder to beat back the spam. Users still participate in the web each and every day, but it increasingly feels like they do so in spite of the largest web platforms and sites, not because of them.

My blog—this website—is a direct response to the consolidation. This site and its content are owned and operated by me and not stuck behind a login or paywall to be monetized by Meta, Medium, Substack, or Elon Musk. That is the open web.

Hoffman goes on to say, “The web was created for participation, by its nature and by its design. It can’t be bottled up long.” He concludes with:

Independent journalists who create unique and authentic connections with their readers are now possible. Open social protocols that experts truly struggle to understand, is being powered by a community that talks to each other.

The web is just people. Lots of people, connected across global networks. In 2005, it was the audience that made the web. In 2025, it will be the audience again.

Let’s rewind 25 years and remember what websites and web technology used to look like. Kevin Gut:

This website is a trip down memory lane. I’m not trying to tell you to stop modern web development. This website uses technologies not available at the time the content here is about.

Elizabeth Goodspeed contextualizes today’s growing design influencers against designers-cum-artists like April Greiman and Stefan Sagmeister. Along with Tibor Kalman, Jessica Walsh, and Wade and Leta, all of these designers put themselves into their work.

Other designers ran with similar instincts. 40 Days of Dating, a joint project by Jessica Walsh and Timothy Goodman created in 2013, was presented as a kind of art-directed relationship experiment: two friends, both single, agreed to date each other for 40 days (40 days being the purported time needed to build a habit). The project was presented through highly polished daily updates with lush photography, motion graphics, custom lettering, and a parade of commissioned work from other artists – all accompanied by alarming candid journal entries from both parties about the dates they were going on. It wasn’t exactly a design project in the traditional sense, but it was unmistakably design-led; the relationship itself was the content, but it was design that made it viral.

These self-directed, clientless projects remind me of MFA design theses where design is the medium for self-expression. Bringing it back to 2025, Godspeed writes:

Designers film themselves in their bedrooms and running errands, narrating design decisions and venting about clients along the way. Just as remote work expects us to perform constant busyness, design influencing demands a continuous performance of creative output. …Brands have jumped in on the trend, too. Where once a designer might have been hired to create packaging or campaigns behind the scenes, many are now brought forward as faces of collaborations – they’re photographed in their studios and interviewed about their process as part of launch. The designer’s body, personality, and public profile become a commercial asset.

And of course, like with all content creators, it becomes a job that just might require more work than it seems.

Influencing can seem like a good, low-lift side-hustle at first. Most designers already have tons of unused work and in-progress sketches to share. Why not just post it and see what happens? But anyone who’s ever had to write captions or cut reels knows that making content is, in fact, harder than it looks. The more energy that goes into showcasing work, the less time there is to actually make work, even if you want to. “Influencing” can quickly become a time suck.

John Calhoun joined Apple 30 years ago as a programmer to work on the Color Picker.

Having never written anything in assembly, you can imagine how overjoyed I was. It’s not actually a very accurate analogy, but imagine someone handing you a book in Chinese and asking you to translate it into English (I’m assuming here that you don’t know Chinese of course). Okay, it wasn’t that hard, but maybe you get a sense that this was quite a hurdle that I would have to overcome.

Calhoun was given an old piece of code and tasked with updating it. Instead, he translated it into a programming language he knew—C—and then decided to add to the feature. He explains:

I disliked HSL as a color space, I preferred HSV (Hue, Saturation, Value) because when I did artwork I was more comfortable thinking about color in those terms. So writing an HSV color picker was on my short list.

When I had my own color picker working I think I found that it was kind of fun. Perhaps for that reason, I struck out again and wrote another color picker. The World Wide Web (www) was a rather new thing that seemed to be catching on, so I naturally thought that an HTML color picker made sense. So I tackled that one as well. It was more or less the RGB color picker but the values were in hexadecimal and a combined RGB string value like “#FFCC33” was made easy to copy for the web designer.

So an engineer decided, all on his own, that he’d add a couple extra features. Including the fun crayon picker:

On a roll, I decided to also knock out a “crayon picker”. At this point, to be clear, the color picker was working and I felt I understood it well enough. As I say, I was kind of just having some fun now.

And Calhoun makes this point:

It was frankly a thing I liked about working for Apple in those days. The engineers were the one’s driving the ship. As I said, I wrote an HSV picker because it was, I thought, a more intuitive color space for artists. I wrote the HTML color picker because of the advent of the web. And I wrote the crayon picker because it seemed to me to be the kind of thing Apple was all about: HSL, RGB — these were kind of nerdy color spaces — a box of crayons is how the rest of us picked colors.

Making software—especially web software—has matured since then, with product managers and designers now collaborating closely with engineers. But with AI coding assistants, the idea of an individual contributor making solo decisions and shipping code might become de rigueur again.

Let’s continue down Mac memory lane with this fun post from Basic Apple Guy:

With macOS 26, Apple has announced a dramatically new look to their UI: Liquid Glass. Solid material icon elements give way to softer, shinier, glassier icons. The rounded rectangle became slightly more rounded, and Apple eliminated the ability for icon elements to extend beyond the icon rectangle (as seen in the current icons for GarageBand, Photo Booth, Dictionary, etc.).

With this release being one of the most dramatic visual overhauls of macOS’s design, I wanted to begin a collection chronicling the evolution of the system icons over the years. I’ve been rolling these out on social media over the past week and will continue to add to and update this collection slowly over the summer. Enjoy!

This is an amazing article and website by Marcin Wichary, the man behind the excellent Shift Happens book.

…I had a realization that the totemic 1984 Mac control panel, designed by Susan Kare, is still to this day perhaps the only settings screen ever brought up in casual conversation.

I kept wondering about that screen, and about what happened since then. Turns out, the Mac settings have lived a far more fascinating life than I imagined, have been redesigned many times, and can tell us a lot about the early history and the troubled upbringing of this interesting machine.

Indeed, Wichary goes through multiple versions of Mac operating systems and performs digital paleontology, uncovering long lost Settings minutiae. It’s also a great lesson in UI along the way. Be sure to click in the Mac screens.

Stephen Heller, writing for PRINT magazine, revisits a long out-of-print book called *Visual Persuasion *by Stephen Baker, a creative director from the Mad Men era of advertising.

Although published in 1961, Visual Persuasion has as much relevance, vitality, insight, vision and spunk as any recently published book (including those that I’ve authored). The truth is this: I wish I had written it. Even though it is nearly 65 years out of print (and contains its share of outdated mores and stereotypes), it easily could still serve (with a minute refresh) to provide ideas to ward off what designers fear is the inevitable AI apocalypse—an end to original thinking and making, visual or otherwise.

One maxim, Heller notes:

Eye movements are based on conditioned reflexes. “Left-to-right habit makes our eyes travel clockwise in exploring a [layout],” Baker notes. The optical center of a page is slightly to the left. The tendency is to focus attention on a person’s eyes more than on any other part of their face. This mirrors one’s emotions with fair accuracy.