My wife Sarah has always been partial to cats. When we got married I adopted that same partiality. Five years later, our family has grown to include two Bombay cats named Ravi and Mowgli. They are great to have around and provide endless amounts of entertainment. However, as any cat owner surely knows, cats produce a less-than-entertaining smell from the litter box. Now if us humans were as fastidious about cleaning as our feline residents, the litter box would get cleaned out daily. Somehow, the minutia of life inhibits us from keeping up with such a consistent schedule. That is why I was intrigued when I came across the following article title in a recent search: How to Toilet Train Your Cat.

Now in all fairness, my wife had this idea—based off a similar article—shortly after we got our first cat, Ravi. She embarked on the patient journey of teaching the “king” of our house how to take a new throne. I was skeptical at first, but thought it might prove beneficial. As the process furthered, Ravi knocked a box full of sawdust-based cat litter into the toilet bowl. The resulting “clump” incited some good-natured ribbing from me to Sarah and subsequently ended the toilet training of Ravi.

Several years later, I’m reminded that Sarah had a great idea and I just wasn’t patient enough to power through the softball-sized glob of litter in the toilet. There’s absolutely no reason why our cats can’t enjoy the refinement and modesty of modern plumbing like Sarah and I do. So to eat my taunting words from several years ago and try to rid my house of the biting smell of ammonia-scented pine, I am revisiting the task of toilet-training our cats.

I will try to document this comical journey and post as many pictures as possible (and appropriate) at the sake of the dignity of my cats (and possibly myself).

In the meantime, I encourage all readers to post your thoughts as to the success of this project as well as any experiences you may have had trying to shape the bathroom habits of your pets.

Anyway, I tend to be a gigantic mash-up of Type-A and Type-B personalities. As an artist and designer I’m always thinking creatively and brainstorming all over the wall. To unwind, I can just sit down in front of the TV and relax for hours on end. It’s blissful, really. However, the OCD-esque part of me loves to structure all that fun away. And it enjoys every part of it. There are lists involved. And Post-Its. I can’t even type a text message without using proper grammar and capitalization. You would think this dichotomy would have me rocking back and forth in the corner sucking my thumb, but I actually do have a relatively normal life enjoying the limitless ideas and creativity that comes with being a designer and the organized structure that helps reign them in.

However, somewhere along the way I’ve lost my discipline as a human being. I’m not knocking over liquor stores or randomly blurting out “Potato” at inappropriate times during staff meetings. I’m talking more about the disciplines of life that build us into men and women of integrity and character.

Long story short, a while back I realized I wasn’t particularly proud of how I was shaping up. Like I said, you aren’t going to find my mug shot at the post office (hopefully) or tattoos across my arm proclaiming how much I love my mom ; I just didn’t feel like I was living up to the standards I profess. About a month or two ago, I stumbled across this great TV show on Hulu called 30 Days (sadly, it has been cancelled). Many of you may know the shows creator and often-times guinea pig, Morgan Spurlock. For those of you who aren’t familiar, Spurlock is the guy who took it upon himself to document the side-effects of an all-McDonald’s diet in the documentary Super-Size Me. Great film; scared me out of ever breathing in another Quarter Pounder. Ugh.

Anyway, the premise of the 30 Days was to put people (sometimes Spurlock himself) into situations for thirty days at a time that tested their pre-conceived notions about a given topic. Many of them were a bit controversial such as a conservative straight man living with a gay man in San Francisco. Others gave incredible insights into the human condition such as living on minimum wage for thirty days. All of them were interesting to see how people responded and to get a look at two sides of the story. Minor disclaimer: it was reality TV produced for FX; I’m sure things were edited to a certain extent. But the premise was intriguing and showcased some interesting situations and dialogues.

This got me thinking, “What if I worked on areas of my life for thirty days at a time?”. People set New Year’s resolutions all the time, but a year is such a long way off you feel defeated before you begin. Thirty days is very manageable. Plus it allowed me to dive in head first and really push myself because I only have thirty days. Hopefully, after thirty days some good disciplines and habits will begin to form and I will continue what I’ve started beyond the original thirty days.

Thus, I am embarking on challenging areas of my life and building in discipline thirty days at a time to become a man of stronger integrity and character. The idea (which I credit to Morgan Spurlock and his production team) keeps the artist in me happy while Mr. Type-A is doing very structured cartwheels at the organization of the whole thing. Above all else, it challenges me to live a life that honors Christ and blesses my wife.

So, for the next thirty days at a time, check back for updates on new challenges and disciplines I am embarking on and my thoughts regarding them.

As a result, I am going to be giving this blog a little bit of a face lift. Nothing too extreme; I’m just going to branch out a bit and discuss subjects in addition to design.

Hope you enjoy!

Living in Springfield most of my life, I have made a mission to frequent a variety of coffeehouses. Most coffee aficionados strive to find the perfect house blend or attain the venerated $100 pound of Kopi Luwak. Me, I enjoy the full-package including the coffeehouse’s attention to design.

Not too long ago, Springfield welcomed a new addition to the coffeehouse scene with The Coffee Ethic who place an emphasis on the art and science of brewing the perfect cup as well as being socially and environmentally responsible. These are certainly criteria that rank high on my list for a great coffeehouse (or any organization for that matter). But as a designer I have always been drawn to their identity.

Many logos today try to do too much with little success. The Coffee Ethic gets to the essence of who they are and what they do with the most efficient of design. Little nuances like the blue element that symbolizes their focus on great coffee wrapped by the coffee cup work together to form a beautiful C and E monogram. No fluff, no unnecessary embellishments. Even the Helvetica logotype fits beautifully with the logogram providing an understated-yet-appropriate anchor for the design. When you enter The Coffee Ethic you see the design carry through to the environmental signage as well as various swag.

With so many coffeehouses popping up all over the Springfield metro area, it’s refreshing to find at The Coffee Ethic the perfect blend of a quality cup and complimentary design that strive to make a positive impact culturally, socially, and environmentally.

For the last several days I’ve been struggling with what to contribute this week. Maybe it’s due to the crazy (but good) snowball of projects I’ve had at work. Perhaps it’s a result of diligently encouraging my wife Sarah as she puts together her portfolio and pursues a new job opportunity. Whatever the case, my own aesthetic has been thrown out of whack (surprisingly, the WebMD has no entries for an out-of-whack aesthetic). So as I sit here in downtown at Rendezvous Coffee Lounge in Springfield, Missouri—one of our favorite coffeehouses—I am reminded about what Esthetik is all about: observing and appreciating the visual culture around me.

Many who know both me and Sarah are keenly aware that we are not cut out for suburbia; indeed we are urban through and through. It’s a bit ironic since I grew up in Springfield (a thriving “metropolis” of about 150,0oo within the city itself) and Sarah grew up in a little slice of country called Clinton (everyone’s favorite gas and drink stop on their drive from Springfield to Kansas City). On top of that we live in Nixa, a suburb of Springfield that, while a great place to live and raise kids (including Jason Bourne, apparently), is lacking in some of the cultural nuances we tend to resonate with.

Both Sarah and I have longed to live in an urban core since before we even knew each other, be it downtown Springfield, Kansas City, or even Chicago (quite possibly our favorite city). Maybe our desire to live in a city center has something to do with our proclivities in writing and design, both which tend to flourish in the artistic and bohemian cultures prevalent in many downtowns. It’s true that my inner designer jumps with postmodern glee every time I pass a beautiful vintage building with its original brickwork and multi-storied facade. I even repress my sedentary tendencies at the thought of being able to stroll the sidewalks, getting inspiration from the unique boutiques and antique storefronts that line the streets of downtown Springfield. But I think there is something more than even the visual draw of downtown; those that know us hopefully know we are drawn to the people here. We love visiting with the owners of The Moxie (our local indie cinema) or being a part of the vibrant Art Walks that occur on the first Friday of every month. Building relationships with people we resonate with is very important to us and to be able to do that in a place we love being a part of makes it all the more sweet.

Don’t get me wrong; Sarah and I still love the cultural treats downtown Springfield has to offer such as varied art galleries, beautiful lofts, and trendy restaurants. But all that culture is moot without the amazing people that we meet each time we visit. And so tonight, I lift my pineapple guava white tea and toast the people of downtown Springfield for inspiring me in my design and placing a desire in Sarah and I to impact a culture we so dearly love.

I’m a print designer by training, but in this dot-com world I am learning to apply those picas to pixels and beef up my web design skills. As I sit at the proverbial feet of those web designers who have masterfully gone before me, I glean from their strengths and insights. There is always so much to learn and it’s encouraging to see those in the design disciplines who are ardently passionate about their professions.

I have a handful of websites I faithfully visit to absorb some of that passion and hopefully learn a technique or two that will better shape me as a burgeoning web designer. One of my growing favorites in both content and design is Khoi Vinh’s Subtraction.com.

When you visit Khoi’s site you might be tempted to think in terms of simple and boring; I urge you to refrain from thinking in such narrow terms. Subtraction is true to its name; it is a site that strips away the fluff that is often found on the web (both in design and content) and allows the visitor to look at a little slice of authenticity in design, photography, and life through the figurative (and literal) lens of Khoi Vinh.

The content Vinh has on his site—ranging from photography to cultural trends to his personal life—is supported by a subtle, yet strong design that allows for easy readability and intuitive navigation. Everything is broken out into logical categories that display in a clean and easy-to-follow results list.

I’ll be honest; I’m a glutton for black and white; I think I’m a product of Bauhaus design 50 years too late. Even with my pre-existing monochromatic bias, I have to appreciate the great care Vinh takes in crafting a site that is easy to navigate and interact with using only what is necessary. You will not find gratuitious Apple-inspired reflections or buttons that are the result of someone who went chrome-happy.

What you will find at Khoi Vinh’s Subtraction is a true example of Gestalt where content and design beautifully blend together to create something that is bigger than either on their own, showing novice web designers like myself (and maybe even a few that have been around the block a time or two) how a little can go a long way.

Everyone who knows me understands my passion—yea obsession—with Irish rock band U2. You can only imagine the downright glee I experience when I hear rumors of a new album from this fantastic foursome. Their recently released twelfth studio album, No Line on the Horizon, certainly did not disappoint. It wouldn’t take much to get me to wax eloquently about the sonic goodness that is No Line, but here I want to focus on an aspect of album releases that is oft overlooked: package design.

Many of my peers exercise great financial stewardship content to barely break a Hamilton and download the basic version of album from online stores such as iTunes. Not me, my friend. I foam with rabid excitement when I see the title followed by “deluxe edition.” Imagine my euphoric delight to hear of such inclusions as “thirty-six-page booklet” and “fold-out poster.” I don’t think overpriced when I see the $65 price tag of the limited edition box set; I see that as a few weeks I could stand to ride my bike to work and re-allocate my gas money. Sure the music is the same. But the care and concept that went behind such design masterpieces is worth every additional penny. As a designer I have a slight bias, but I like to think that my passion for advocating well-designed album packaging is tantamount to those who line their music shelves with freshly pressed vinyl simply because it sounds better. Why not take the same approach visually and adorn your media cabinet with the artistic stylings of the deluxe digipak?

Certainly if any band can make an argument for turning a frugal downloader into a package-design collector it is U2. Beginning early in their career, U2 collaborated with longtime friend and quintessential U2 designer Steve Averill (of Ireland based design firm Four5one Creative) and iconic photographer Anton Corbijn to bring brilliant blends of concept, artistry, and design to every visual aspect of the band.

No Line takes shape in five different available album packages (including one LP design, for all you audiophiles). Each one has their extra embellishments and supplemental elements that help tell the story of the album and the songs within. Thanks to my beautiful wife Sarah, I am currently enjoying the limited digipak version (though how I long for thee, oh $65 dollar limited edition box set). Within it’s sleek-but-subtle clear sleeve (embellished with opalescent “equal sign” line element) lies a folding digipak album. No tacky jewel cases here; the album is pure ink on paper that opens to reveal a 36-page booklet which combines elements of photography and type that visually underscore each song. Subtle embellishments like certain text printed in spot varnish show the attention to visual detail and the value placed in the overall design. Carefully affixed to the interior of the packaging, the magazine makes the album more book than CD. Even the foldout poster (which I am typically not a fan of) is appropriately affixed to the opposite panel, composed with striking photography of the band during the development of the album.

Yes, U2’s No Line on the Horizon package design is an example of the attention to design that I argue should be placed into all albums not just as an afterthought, but as an additional element in the telling of the story.

My limited edition digipak sits proudly on my shelf, as if a recent acquisition in a museum display. Hopefully the musical world will continue to create beautiful “artifacts” that will continue to visually tell the sonic story.

Every once in a while a design project comes along that is not only a challenge but also a personal investment. In the fall of 2008, some close friends of mine got engaged and wanted to entrust the design of their wedding stationery to me. Barron has been one of my closest friends through high school and college; Betsy became a dear friend in college and was pivotal in introducing me to my wife (they were roommates).

I’ll be honest, sometimes I’m a bit squeamish when it comes to projects like this (weddings are extremely personal and it would seem people not even in the wedding have strong opinions). What made this wedding project different was the close friendship I have with both Barron and Betsy and the amazing story of their courtship and engagement. I felt honored that they would have me play such an important part in the overall design of their wedding day.

With that said, the traditional challenges of a wedding identity system (and any project in general) still existed. Barron and Betsy both had initial ideas they wanted to incorporate, but we took time upfront to sit down and hash through their needs and wants. Early on, Barron and Betsy had settled upon a black and silver color scheme to correspond with their winter wedding day (February 6) and to reflect the formality of the evening ceremony time. They also wanted to incorporate a damask pattern to continue the elegance in the overall design. Finally, we had to keep a modest budget in mind, but since I was doing the project pro bono as their wedding gift, we could funnel the entire budget to printing. Beyond those few key requirements, Barron and Betsy were very open to seeing what I would come up with. Having that kind of creative freedom is a designer’s dream and yet can be very overwhelming.

There were a few things I started brainstorming immediately; I pitched the idea of developing for them a personal monogram that would brand the entire wedding and serve as a unique identifier for the couple well into their marriage. The idea was well received and—coupled with the decision to print everything in two-color (black and silver)—set the tone for the overall design system.

Interestingly, the monogram concept came very quickly. The idea was to show the concept of covenant marriage—the sacrificial promise of two becoming one—by interweaving their initials into a unique logotype. Their first initials—B and B—along with Barron’s last initial—H—allowed for an interesting juxtaposition of the bars to create an cohesive, symmetrical symbol. Adobe Garamond was chosen as the primary typeface for its old style elegance, graceful thick-to-thin contrast in the strokes, and extensive character set for page layout. Several variations of the monogram were shown to Barron and Betsy who gave a warm reception to the overall concept. Minor refinements were made including subtle typographic adjustments and the development of the logotype into an enclosed logo.

Once the monogram was finalized, I searched for just the right damask pattern. Betsy had a definitive idea in her mind about how she wanted the pattern to look so we sifted through a variety of possible pattern candidates. We finally found one that had great formal characteristics and could be stitched together to create a repeating pattern. Put together, the monogram and the damask band created an elegant design element that created the feel of haute couture. The intricacy and grace in the pattern and letterforms created a beautiful femininity balanced by the masculine weight of the black and the overall symmetry of the design.

We narrowed down what kind of pieces Barron and Betsy wanted to incorporate into their stationery. Having worked on tight-budgeted print projects before, I pitched the idea of doing a gang run for the printing. Since all of the pieces were two-color and using the same paper stock, we could print a variety of pieces very efficiently and affordably. After some deliberation we settled on a stationery system that would include the invitation, hotel and map cards, thank you note, and guest gift tag. Additionally we were able to include a tri-fold program and personal correspondence cards. Paired with envelopes in matching stock and a custom monogram stamp, the stationery created a formal, uniform look for the wedding.

The set motif was applied carefully and intentionally to each piece, allowing the distinct forms in the monogram to determine the feel of each layout. Elements in the map card were custom-designed from Adobe Garamond letterforms to create a one-of-a-kind illustration that worked within the overall system. Finally, typography was laid out with generous white space, allowing for readability and sophistication.

Printing was done with local printer Cantrell-Barnes whom I have worked with before. They are great to work with and did an exceptional job nailing the registration of the intricate patterns.

The final result was a wedding stationery set Barron and Betsy were incredibly pleased with and I was honored to work on. Congratulations to Barron and Betsy on their new lives together and many thanks for the opportunity to help visualize their special day!

One of my first identity projects at Ozark-based Robison Creative Studios was for a growing church in Oklahoma called Noble Assembly of God. The primary requirement for the project was to incorporate a dove and a flame—and do it creatively, of course. This proved to be the mantra for future church branding projects (with additional juxtapositions including hearts and crosses) and a request that I would come to dread. But in my design naivete I took on the request with idealism and excitement.

I love typography so one of my favorite places to start with any logo project is manipulating letterforms. With the Noble Assembly of God logo I started with the typeface Futura as my base (one of a handful of typefaces I find to be ubiquitous in design). Futura added a modern flare to the overall design without being overly-trendy. The geometric precision of the letterforms also provided a great foundation for the icon, specifically the symmetry of the Futura “O.”

With a typographic base established, I began to experiment with the curves of the flame. It’s always an interesting challenge graphically portraying a flame; there’s this fine line you walk where it can look like corny clip art or go to the extreme of cliched tattoo, but every once in a while you find a great balance. I finally styled a flame that I felt was a good balance and started playing with the juxtaposition of the flame and letterform. As I overlapped and masked I started to see the curves of the dove manifest. The form was subtle at first, but with some refinements of the flame I was able to make the negative space take on a more defined dove shape. The challenge of merging dove and flame was complete; the leadership at Noble now had a clean, contemporary icon that looked sharp on a letterhead and had a bold, dramatic presence when enlarged on massive banners within their sanctuary. But I still needed to integrate the logotype.

The icon had such a clean, modern feel that I decided it needed to be grounded with a slightly more conservative typeface. This was a bit of an update for Noble Assembly of God; we wanted to make sure we didn’t alienate the congregation by thrusting them into a hyper-modern identity. I tried some of my standbys like Adobe Garamond Pro, but felt it was a bit too conservative. Finally I decided to give Bodoni a shot and loved how the geometric precision worked with that of Futura and the icon itself. The thick-to-thin contrast also gave some variety and rhythm to the logo, keeping it from feeling too heavy.

The final touch was to add a splash of color to allow the icon to pop. I chose a muted red to keep with the classic, sophisticated theme already established and to tie the symbolism together with the blood of Christ.

All together the Noble Assembly of God logo has become one of my all-time favorite marks I have worked on and is a case-study of how some of the most cliched symbols can work together to form a compelling graphic icon.