HUES ON FIRST – Rallying Against Chromophobia

When I was a first grader I adored crayons. Those elegant little, translucent cylinders of pure color. I’ll bet you did too.

At school I had to scrounge stumps of them in various lengths from a cardboard box. Soon, though, I got my very own set of Crayolas. I was happy to have them, but it was only an eight-pack, just the basics. So I kept going back to that ratty remnant box because that’s where I could find the subtler, more complex colors.

Then my mom—once a commercial artist, by the way—bought me the big 48-color box, the one with neatly stepped tiers of crayons, some in shades falling in between the basic, primary colors: blue-green, gold ochre, red violet…oh, and the metallics. These, I thought, were colors worthy of keeping within the lines.

I was tickled pink. Even then, as a six-year-old, I knew the power of color to tap into one’s creativity and express one’s temperament.
 
        Purple might be risky and brown was
        to be avoided at all costs.

GOING PRO
Much later, as a graphics designer—thanks, I’m sure, to the encouragement of that first-grade teacher, Miss Whittier—I applied my way with color to the design solutions I crafted for clients, from mom-and-pop furniture stores, to dentists, to universities and symphony orchestras.

Part of my stock in trade was just knowing which colors from my trusty PMS swatch book* would and wouldn’t work for each project. Knowing that you don’t use pink for a bank, olive drab for a restaurant or blood red for a hospital.

I don’t know that anyone actually taught me those rules; it just seemed intuitive. You know, that for a more staid client, purple might be risky and that, for most any client, brown was to be avoided at all costs.

RULES FOR THE BREAKING
As instinctive as that color sense was for me, there’s also lots of research to back it up. It confirms that yellows suggest brightness, cheer and hope. Reds can evoke energy, urgency, anger and danger. Blues portray calmness and trust; greens, freshness and serenity.

While they know these “rules” very well, designers in nearly every field occasionally find value in breaking them for shock value or when they want to push the boundaries of “taste.”

PHOTO: Beautiful Stitches

For example, an edgy tech client (like Yahoo) or one that wants to connote luxury (like Crown Royal whisky), might find a shade of purple quite effective. (That latter interpretation may derive from purple dye’s having been so rare and expensive in ancient cultures that it was affordable only to royalty.)

               UPS has exploited one of the
               least desirable colors: brown.

BRANDING
It’s fascinating, isn’t it, how the color landscape has been mined to identify various companies and causes, each of them appropriating a hue they hope will distinguish them in the marketplace.

IBM grabbed blue a long time ago—in 1947. Later, Verizon claimed red; Heineken, Starbucks and Holiday Inn all took green; while Home Depot and Dunkin’ Donuts have seized on orange.

In what I’ve always felt was one of those gutsy, outside-the-lines moves, UPS has successfully exploited what’s considered one of the least desirable colors for any entity’s branding: brown. All the better, I guess, to ensure no one steals it.

(The only client I remember identifying with brown was the Cornucopia Society, the elite giving club that helps fund the Wells Fargo Family Farm at the Minnesota Zoo. The cover of my brochure for them featured a wavy brown background suggesting a furrowed field.)

SOCIAL CAUSES
In 1979, a Jaycees ladies service organization in Leitchfield, Kentucky organized what became a hugely popular campaign to "Tie A Yellow Ribbon" around trees in yards and public spaces to show support for the U.S. hostages being held in Iran.

Since then scores of other organizations have adopted colors for their causes, among them: red for heart disease and AIDS; orange for leukemia; violet for Hodgkins lymphoma; teal for sexual assault; pink for breast cancer; and green for almost anything related to the environment.

STOP AND GO
And just think of all the other aspects of our culture we’ve come to associate with colors. Often they’re so ubiquitous that we no longer even notice. The iconic red, yellow and green of traffic lights; warning signs; status lights on machines; wire and piping identification; filing tabs… I could go on.

Some brilliant planner realized that even the most confusing mazes of floors and hallways of buildings or building complexes can be color coded to simplify navigation. Someone else must have decided that blue and pink should identify the gender of babies.

And now, more than ever, color has come to define our politics. God forbid any respectable MAGA republican get caught wearing a blue cap; no democrat, a red one! And for the dwindling number of “independent” voters, maybe there should be a color for that too, perhaps a nice red-blue shade of violet.

      Fear and disappointment
      have sucked the color out of our spirits.

ZEITGEIST
Have you noticed what’s happened over the past few decades to the colors of some of American culture’s key expressions of personal identity: clothing, housing and cars? It’s as if the flame of color has just gone out.

First of all, what’s this dark attachment we have with black? Apparently folks need to display various shades of “attitude”—you know, “Hey, I’m outrageous, don’t fv<& with me!”—as if that’s a good thing. Show me 100 heavy metal band tour t-shirts and I’ll show you 95 black ones. For goth shirts, I’ll show you 100—these poor folks are even afraid of the color of their own skin.

This love affair with black is complicated, though; the color does suggest sadness and depression, but in fashion it can also come across as pure elegance, the perfect backdrop for colorful accessories.

Here in Minnesota, where we starve for Nature’s show of color during our long, cold, monochrome winters, you’d think we’d want to pump up our parkas with shades of optimism and joy. Alas, most winter days we’re a sea of sad, drab fiberfilled nylon puffballs.

And our homes; they run the gamut from white to gray to—if you're really adventurous—perhaps a nice, muted tan. Thank God Sally and I can spend a month in Mexico every year, soaking up their delicious colors.

And cars. Cars are half as colorful as they were 20 years ago. According to the website iSeeCars.com, only 20 percent of today’s cars are non-grayscale colors (white, black, gray, and silver) compared to 40 percent in 2004.

CUES FROM NATURE
So, where did this chromophobia come from? For what it’s worth, I think it may have started as far back as Richard Nixon’s brazen betrayal of Americans’ trust. I think that's when we really started doubting ourselves and each other.

That was the first in a series of dispiriting events that have left many with a kind of dystopian view of our prospects—most noteworthy 9/11, the pandemic, and lately our political polarization. Fear and disappointment have sucked the color out of our spirits.

PHOTO: AP

We can do better. Let us be more aware of the colors that gladden our lives…and those sad voids they might once have inhabited. And let us take our cues from Nature, whose palette has always inspired us at our happiest.

* PMS stands for the Pantone Matching System, a proprietary numbering system for colors used by artists, designers worldwide for accurate color identification, design specification, quality control and communication.

MY BRAIN ON DRUGS (REDUX) – A Little More Fun With "Pharmanyms"

This is an update of one of my most popular posts, originally published in 2015. Whole new list of drug names, both real and made up.

IMAGE: Sunovion Pharmaceuticals Inc.

THE CURE-ALL COME-ON
If you’re one of the few folks still watching original, seen-when-aired TV—as opposed to streamed or some on-demand stuff where you can skip the commercials — then you’ve seen these incessant commercials for drugs. You can’t watch for ten minutes without seeing one.

Advertisers of everything from hair growers to testosterone boosters to toenail fungus fighters try to convince you, despite the long, speed-read list of sometimes dire side effects, to demand their potion from your doctor.

For starters, the insidiously oblique tactic of getting you to ask for something your doc may not know much more about than what the culprits themselves have told her seems like it should be illegal.

And, even if you’re not as cynical as I am, you’ve got to agree there’s something else that's just patently ludicrous about many of these ads: the brand names.

      I challenge you to tell me which are real 
      brands and which are the impostors.

THE CHIMP TEST

PHOTO: NY Zoological Society

Does anyone else think, as I do, that you could sit a chimp down in front of a two- or three-column list of random syllables, train it to pick one from each column, and come up with a better name for an arthritis drug than Xeljanz?* C’mon!

Now, lest you think I’m just ranting—perhaps resentful that some branding hot shots out there are making a small fortune dreaming up these absurd monikers—here’s a little test.

Below is a list of 20 drug brands. (I’ve left out ones so pervasive, like Cialis or Prednisone, that they’ve muscled their way into the vernacular, and I've spared those which at least try to suggest what they do—like Flonase. )

Ten of the names are real—the result, one would assume, of exhaustive research, brainstorming and focus group testing.

The other ten are pure gibberish; I created them in about five minutes using the chimp method—randomly combining nonsense syllables from three columns. I challenge you to tell me which are real brands and which are the impostors. (Answers below)

  1. Delozca
  2. Lybalvi
  3. Steruvia
  4. Qulypta
  5. Ektravos
  6. Vabysmo
  7. Cydirna
  8. Farxiga
  9. Zufuima
10. Verzenio
11. Tarjavic
12. Xyfaxan
13. Quibala
14. Leqvio
15. Semplavid
16. Sotyktu
17. Belsuvu
18. Quviviq
19. Cymtavic
20. Ubrelvy

Absolutely insane, right? But then what would you expect from folks who think you’re dumb enough to want something called Revatio?** How about Dumrite? Ufelferit?

 * Xeljanz is a JAK inhibitor, claimed to disrupt the nerve pathways that lead to the inflammation
    associated with RA.
** Revatio, from Pfizer, is the same drug as Viagra, but marketed to treat hypertension (high blood
     pressure).

ANSWERS: Starting with number 2, every other brand is real. Starting with number 1, every other brand is fake.

MY BRAIN ON DRUGS – A Little Fun With "Pharmanyms"

In a previous life I was a copywriter, brand creator and sloganeer. So this post derives as much from that persona as from that of the wondering wanderer I’ve assumed the past few years.

THE CURE-ALL COME-ON
If you’re one of the few folks still watching original, seen-when-aired TV—as opposed to Tivoed programs or on-demand stuff where you can skip the ads—then you’ve seen these incessant commercials for drugs. You can’t watch for ten minutes without seeing one.

Advertisers of everything from hair growers to testosterone boosters to toenail fungus fighters try to convince you—despite the long, speed-read list of sometimes dire side effects—to demand their potion from your doctor. Hell, there are even drugs to improve the performance of the drugs they sold you before!

For starters, shouldn't the insidious tactic of getting you to ask for something your doc may not know much more about than what the culprits themselves have told him be illegal?

And, even if you’re not as cynical as I am, you’ve got to agree there’s something else that's just patently ludicrous about many of these ads: the names.

          I dare you to tell me which are real 
          brands and which are the impostors.

PHOTO: New York Zoological Society via Wikimedia Commons

THE CHIMP TEST
Does anyone else think, as I do, that you could sit a chimp down in front of a two- or three-column list of random syllables, train it to pick one from each column, and come up with a better name than Xeljanz*? C’mon!

Now, lest you think I’m just ranting—perhaps resentful that some branding pros out there are making a small fortune dreaming up these absurd monikers—here’s a little test. Below is a list of 20 drug brands. (I’ve left out ones so pervasive, like Cialis or Prednisone, that they’ve muscled their way into the vernacular.) I've also spared those which at least try to suggest what they do—like Flonase.

Ten of the names are real, the result, one would assume, of exhaustive research, brainstorming and focus group testing.

The other ten are pure gibberish; I created them in about five minutes using the chimp method—combining randomly-chosen syllables from two or three columns. I challenge you to tell me which are real brands and which are the impostors.

  1. Abradex
  2. Latuda
  3. Cynerol
  4. Osphena
  5. Curina
  6. Stekara
  7. Midaflex
  8. Myrbetriq
  9. Xufera
10. Treximet
11. Infuragel
12. Kaletra
13. Doloram
14. Ertaczo
15. Arterian
16. Fosrenol
17. Jyntala
18. Dacogen
19. Somniz
20. Xarelto

Absolutely insane, right? But then what would you expect from folks who think you’re dumb enough to want something called Revatio?** How about Dumrite? Ufelferit?

 * Xeljanz is a JAK inhibitor, claimed to disrupt the nerve pathways that lead to the inflammation associated with RA.
 ** Revatio, from Pfizer, is the same drug as Viagra, but marketed to treat hypertension (high blood pressure).

THE SPACES BETWEEN – Learning to See Both Everything and Nothing

In Nature, as in life, we can see more if we notice not just things, but the spaces between things; not just sounds, but the silences they frame.

Far from empty, these inhalations in the song of creation are what make each note so clear, so sweet.
From Under the Wild Ginger – A Simple Guide to the Wisdom of Wonder, by Jeffrey Willius

                                                            —//—         —//—          —//—

Once again, it’s Australian Open time. For me this winter tennis tournament is a welcome escape from the cabin fever that’s so often hanging, cold, damp and gray, around my shoulders this time of year.

Besides watching the greats—Djokovic, Williams, Nadal, The Screamer (Sharapova)—alternately pick and beat each other’s games apart with astounding skill and endurance, there’s another pleasure for me in the Australian Open.

       Most of the impression comes from what
       we read, as it were, between the lines.

For the past several years, one of the event’s main sponsors has been ANZ, a banking conglomerate serving Australia and New Zealand—thus the initials. Its logo appears somewhere in the background of about half the camera angles.

I’m a former marketing communications guy and brand designer, and I think ANZ’s logo is, at least design-wise, among the finest corporate marks I’ve ever seen.

A POSITIVE-NEGATIVE ATTITUDE
The main reason I love this graphic so much is that it engages the eye in a most effective interplay between positive and negative space. The positive forms—essentially just two light blue circles, one cut in half; the other with a light-bulb-shaped bite taken out of it—are laid onto a dark blue background. The negative space is just that background area flowing between and into the circular elements.

And it’s so simple; that’s what makes it so elegant. With just those three basic forms the designer’s created both an interesting arrangement of the shapes, and, with the spaces between, a unmistakable human form.

More than that, in the way that little being’s arms and torso flare out around the blue circles, it becomes a dynamic, playful expression. It spreads, and reaches, and grows. It seems the arms are reaching out toward you, welcoming you, perhaps blessing you in some way. It’s friendly, exuberant, simultaneously humble and confident.

Just what you want in a bank, right? And most of the impression comes from what we read, as it were, between the lines.

     In western society…we’re taught to see 
     what’s there, and completely miss what’s not.

SEEING WHAT ISN’T THERE
I’ve written occasionally about this interplay between positive and negative space. As I’ve tried to capture in that quote from my book, Under the Wild Ginger, it can have a profound effect on how we see the world and life.

It’s knowing the whale’s down there without even seeing it. It’s the void, the potential, in the human experience an entrepreneur or inventor sees and then fills. It’s the powerful meaning in someone’s hesitation when you ask them what they think of something you’re just nuts about.

Seeing and appreciating the spaces between is one of the great little secrets of being truly aware and in the moment. And it doesn’t come naturally to everyone. At least in western society, we’re often raised and educated quite literally. We’re taught to see what’s there, and completely miss what’s not.

            To twist an old axiom a bit, 
            you have to believe it to see it.

NATURE THE TEACHER
Allowing existence to something most people would say isn’t there takes a little practice. What’s perhaps most difficult for many folks is the irony that, the harder you try to do this, the less likely you are to succeed.

My best teacher has been Nature, with a dash of faith, instilled by my parents, thrown in. If you can simply BE in Nature—no agenda, no schedule, no expectation, just pure, simple presence—Nature will eventually show you both what is and what exists right next to that, behind it, even in the space it now occupies, but once didn’t.

Sounds a bit metaphysical, a little new-agey, right? That’s where the faith comes in. To twist an old axiom a bit, you have to believe it to see it. And how does one unaccustomed to it come by that faith? It helps if you want to—something which I’m not sure many milennials do, addicted, I fear, to all the pre-digested information and virtual experiences available to them at arm’s length.

The other key to hearing and believing in Nature’s counsel lies in what I like to call seeing generously. It’s the attitude, the belief, that truly seeing—even what may not seem at first to be there—is more like giving than receiving. Far from the competitive, materialistic fervor our culture seems to believe drives our economy and makes us all happy, it is not an act of acquisition. It’s an act of surrender.

MY BRAIN ON DRUGS – A Little Fun With Pharmanyms

(In a previous life I was a copywriter, brand creator and sloganeer. So this post derives from that persona as much as that of the wondering wanderer I’ve assumed the past few years.)

IMAGE: Sunovion Pharmaceuticals Inc.

THE CURE-ALL COME-ON
If you’re one of the few folks still watching original, seen-when-aired TV—as opposed to Tivoed or some on-demand stuff where you can skip the commercials— then you’ve seen these incessant commercials for drugs. You can’t watch for ten minutes without seeing one.

Advertisers of everything from hair growers to testosterone boosters to toenail fungus fighters try to convince you, despite the long, speed-read list of sometimes dire side effects, to demand their potion from your doctor.

For starters, the insidiously oblique tactic of getting you to ask for something your doc may not know much more about than what the culprits themselves have told her seems like it should be illegal.

And, even if you’re not as cynical as I am, you’ve got to agree there’s something else that's just patently ludicrous about many of these ads: the brand names.

    I challenge you to tell me which are real 
    brands and which are the impostors.

THE CHIMP TEST

PHOTO: NY Zoological Society

Does anyone else think, as I do, that you could sit a chimp down in front of a two- or three-column list of random syllables, train it to pick one from each column, and come up with a better name for an arthritis drug than Xeljanz?* C’mon!

Now, lest you think I’m just ranting—perhaps resentful that some branding hot shots out there are making a small fortune dreaming up these absurd monikers—here’s a little test.

Below is a list of 20 drug brands. (I’ve left out ones so pervasive, like Cialis or Prednisone, that they’ve muscled their way into the vernacular, and I've spared those which at least try to suggest what they do—like Flonase. )

Ten of the names are real—the result, one would assume, of exhaustive research, brainstorming and focus group testing.

The other ten are pure gibberish; I created them in about five minutes using the chimp method—randomly combining nonsense syllables from two or three columns. I challenge you to tell me which are real brands and which are the impostors.

  1. Abradex
  2. Latuda
  3. Cynerol
  4. Osphena
  5. Curina
  6. Stekara
  7. Midaflex
  8. Myrbetriq
  9. Xufera
10. Treximet
11. Infuragel
12. Kaletra
13. Doloram
14. Ertaczo
15. Arterian
16. Fosrenol
17. Jyntala
18. Dacogen
19. Somnéz
20. Xarelto

Absolutely insane, right? But then what would you expect from folks who think you’re dumb enough to want something called Revatio?** How about Dumrite? Ufelferit?

 * Xeljanz is a JAK inhibitor, claimed to disrupt the nerve pathways that lead to the inflammation associated with RA.
** Revatio, from Pfizer, is the same drug as Viagra, but marketed to treat hypertension (high blood pressure).