Seventy-nine Short Essays on Design

by Michael Bierut

Now in Paperback! A collection of essays by Michael Bierut, Pentagram partner, cofounder of the website Design Observer, and AIGA board member. Bierut is one of the best-respected and most-beloved writers within the graphic design field, a spokesman for the profession, and a man pretty much universally admired within the academy and among practitioners. This collection includes writings from the 1980s through today.

Genres: Design, Nonfiction, Art Design, Art, Essays, Architecture, Creative

272 pages, Paperback

First published May 31, 2007

About the author

Michael Bierut studied graphic design at the University of Cincinnati’s College of Design, Architecture, Art and Planning, graduating summa cum laude in 1980. Prior to joining Pentagram in 1990 as a partner in the firm’s New York office, he worked for ten years at Vignelli Associates, ultimately as vice president of graphic design.

Bierut’s clients at Pentagram have included the Alliance for Downtown New York, Benetton, the Council of Fashion Designers of America, Alfred A. Knopf, the Walt Disney Company, Mohawk Paper Mills, Motorola, MillerCoors, the Toy Industry Association, Princeton University, Yale School of Architecture, New York University, the Fashion Institute of Technology, the Brooklyn Academy of Music, the Library of Congress, the Museum of Sex, and the New York Jets. His projects have ranged from the design of “I Want to Take You Higher,” an exhibition on the psychedelic era for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum, to serving as design consultant to United Airlines.

Bierut’s recent activities have included the development of a new identity and signage for the expanded Morgan Library and Museum; the development of environmental graphics for The New York Times Building; the design of an identity and public promotion for Philip Johnson’s Glass House; the creation of marketing strategies for the William Jefferson Clinton Foundation; the development of a new brand strategy and packaging for luxury retailer Saks Fifth Avenue; and the redesign of the magazine The Atlantic.

He has won hundreds of design awards and his work is represented in the permanent collections of the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the the Cooper-Hewitt, National Design Museum, all in New York; the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C.; the Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe, Hamburg, Germany; and the Musee des Arts Decoratifs, Montreal. He has served as president of the New York Chapter of the American Institute of Graphic Arts (AIGA) from 1988 to 1990 and is president emeritus of AIGA National. He currently serves as a director of the Architectural League of New York and of New Yorkers for Parks. In 1989, Bierut was elected to the Alliance Graphique Internationale, in 2003 he was named to the Art Directors Club Hall of Fame, and in 2006 he received the profession’s highest honor, the AIGA Medal, in recognition of his distinguished achievements and contributions to the field. In 2008 he received the Design Mind Award in the National Design Awards presented by the Cooper-Hewitt, National Design Museum, Smithsonian Institution.

Bierut is a Senior Critic in Graphic Design at the Yale School of Art. He is co-editor of the anthology series Looking Closer: Critical Writings on Graphic Design, published by Allworth Press, and in 1998 he co-edited and designed the monograph Tibor Kalman: Perverse Optimist. He is a co-founder of the weblog Design Observer and his commentaries about graphic design in everyday life can be heard nationally on the Public Radio International program “Studio 360.” His book Seventy-nine Short Essays on Design was published by Princeton Architectural Press in 2007.

Publications

Seventy-nine Short Essays on Design
By Michael Bierut
Princeton Architectural Press, 2007
Order this book in Europe / North America

—Pentagram.com

Reviews

[Michaela · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really enjoyed most of these essays which have been compiled from Michael Bierut's blogs on http://www.designobserver.com. I love that each is set in a different typeface. i found myself looking to the back of the book each essay to see if i was correctly identifying them. Each one is only a couple pages so if you arent very interested in one of them you can quickly move on to the next. I keep this book on my desk at work for quick amusement and enlightenment. Absolutely a great book for any designer.

[Steven Tentacion · Rating 2 out of 5]

His best essays are the ones where he actually dives into theory instead of name-dropping for two and a half pages. In my eyes, he was often guilty of the latter.

[Leila · Rating 5 out of 5]

Michael Bierut is one of the few famous graphic designers who is also a genuinely nice guy. And one of the best critics, I've ever had. I spent the whole time reading this book, smiling and nodding, laughing to myself and thinking, "Yes! Thank you for saying that!" I recommend it to everyone I know who is not a graphic designer so they'll know what all us designers are nodding and laughing about.

Plus, every essay is set in a different typeface.

[kkurtz · Rating 5 out of 5]

Don't let the title fool you. This book could just as easily be called 'Seventy-nine Short Essays on Life'. Michael Bierut is a designer & co-founder of the blog Design Observer, where the majority of these essays were culled. Like that blog, this book touches on just as many non-design aspects of life. That is until the reader realizes how much design we actually do come in contact with on a daily basis. The lead essay, 'Warning: May Contain Non-Design Content' sets you up for what is in store. The following seventy-eight wonderfully written & engaging pieces cover such a dizzying array of topics (simply peruse the table of contents on the cover to wet your appetite), that you might just forget you are reading a book on design.

[M K · Rating 2 out of 5]

So I originally read this book because it was recommended to me, especially for a few of the texts in it—most notably, "Why Designers Don't Think," which is probably the most famous piece from this collection. This book is basically just a collection of blog articles written by Michael Bierut, who is, of course, a senior partner at Pentagram, one of the most famous branding agencies in the world. As is universally known, he is a student of one of the most successful and famous modernist designers in the world, Massimo Vignelli, the designer of, most famously, the New York City subway design system.
This book began as something interesting to me because it really is a slice of life of a certain place and time. There are works of theory and works of fiction that are universal, but this book isn't one of them. It's really a very particular person speaking in a particular place and time, which is completely okay because it is part of the form of the text; it's basically a series of columns.
What is exciting is learning about this specific setting and what the issues of the day were. It is intensely felt that all these blog articles were written after 9/11 in New York City, in the early 2000s. You can really feel what the topics of the day were. It's not constantly about big global events, but the atmosphere of the time is absolutely palpable. However, it is palpable from a very specific perspective: the experience of very well-to-do white men in New York City in the early 2000s. It's exciting to learn about all the people that were important in his life and in this era, and you learn a lot about very important names in design history.
It's also interesting to learn about certain conflicts that took place. I think the book is at its strongest when he is telling funny anecdotes, and the most exciting anecdotes relate, of course, to his master, Massimo Vignelli. I think the second-to-last text about Massimo Vignelli's pen is probably the best essay in the book. But it's maybe the best text because it avoids the actual format of the book.
The title, 79 Short Essays on Design, is basically a lie. They are not short essays; it's just a bunch of blog articles filled with anecdotes, short observations, and lots of book reviews. I think only two of them are actually essays. Maybe even only one—maybe "Why Designers Don't Think" is the only proper essay. Everything else is just a blog article. The number 79 is interesting because it suggests there is some kind of necessity tying all these individual texts together. It seems as if the number is important, as if they are meaningfully related.
On the surface level, this is not the case. Of course, every text is formatted with a different font, which is mostly a stupid gimmick. In some cases, it features funny jokes and activates the reader to think about the specific font choice and how it relates to the text, but most of the time, it's just a gimmick in my opinion. There is no throughline on a surface level. It's as if this guy just wrote lots of blog articles and then selected 79 that were good. I forgot what the foreword said; maybe these are simply all his blog articles, which wouldn't be unrealistic given how random they are in part.
But actually, under the surface, there is a throughline. That throughline is a very simple and important question that has moved designers since the category of design first existed. The idea of graphic design developing is very uncertain. Graphic design itself is probably the weakest and least theorized discipline that can be labeled as design. If you think about product design or architecture, those are way more theorized. Maybe UX design is even less respected and theorized, but graphic design is pretty low on the food chain—and I say that as a graphic designer.
There is one question that has bothered this discipline from the beginning: the relationship between politics and design. This is actually the main topic of the book. The amount of blog posts that talk about the relationship between graphic design and politics is overwhelming. (There are other recurring topics, like his obvious love for The New Yorker, which again seems somewhat cliché, but politics really is the main topic).
It's funny that it's the main topic because Michael Bierut seems like he doesn't even want to talk about it. When he addresses the question directly, it's usually just a mockery of designers who think there is some kind of revolutionary potential in graphic design. Bierut constantly mentions this, but he is extremely dismissive of the idea. In that sense, he really speaks from a place of savoir-faire and practical knowledge. He is a designer, he knows what design is about, and he does it every day. It's his profession. So I think he very much has the right to speak on this, and it's important to listen to what he has to say.
But his outright dismissiveness relates very much to his general hatred of Marxism. Overall, Michael Bierut is like an all-American boy. He loves New York, he thinks supporting the troops is amazing, and his literary interests revolve around Ayn Rand and all-American novels like The Catcher in the Rye. He thinks the Soviet Union is stupid; he basically hates it just as much as he hates this one version of Garamond that Apple used back in the day.
That's one of the reasons why his idea of politics is so strange. He addresses a reader who complains that he is too political, but this very idea is funny because Bierut really doesn't have the capability to map out what politics even is. That's why he has trouble addressing whether graphic design is political. His horizon for thinking about the politics of design is limited to believing that people who claim design can be revolutionary in its formal capacity are simply elitist, and no one will understand them. On the other hand, he believes in a populist design—a design that makes people's lives better simply by being good, looking beautiful, working well, and fulfilling its purpose.
While he has a lot of respect for experimental designers—he cynically jokes about them but respects them nonetheless—he ultimately does something that he himself criticizes in "Why Designers Don't Think." He is also one of the designers who doesn't think, because he has no real interest in understanding the positions of other people. He might have some superficial respect for critical theory, he mentions Derrida, he's interested in art, and he mentions Philip Glass as someone cool. But in reality, he is absolutely trapped in his own brain and his own socioeconomic position. He cannot imagine design being anything other than what Paul Rand would agree with: design is goodwill. You collaborate with a business partner, you make some cool design, and its positive social impact is just that someone enjoys their life a bit more because they get to look at a nice pasta package. That's it.
You might view that as uncritical or somewhat stupid, and it is very limited. How he portrays himself in this book borders on a caricature of a liberal—a liberal from a Marxist perspective, that is. I wouldn't claim that the people he makes fun of, who propose a "revolutionary design," aren't also just radical leftists (as Lenin would say). In some sense, maybe Bierut's critique is correct. This really obscure, arcane design and the counter-culture tactics of groups like Adbusters—this isn't revolutionary praxis. It is what he says it is: elitist, weirdo behavior that doesn't get anywhere. That's true. And from that standpoint, we can trust his savoir-faire: good, beautiful design is what the majority of people like.
I agree with him there, but beyond that, he is the ultimate American, New York City liberal who cannot mentally exit his socioeconomic position to imagine another possibility. Both he and the people he criticizes are basically just liberals speaking a Marxist vernacular. On one hand, you have this radical leftist idea of awakening people from ideological brainwashing via design. On the other, you have Michael Bierut saying, "Wait, but these people enjoy it." All of this is taking place completely on a cultural superstructure level. These two interlocking liberal perspectives are in an endless battle, incapable of leaving their positions.
I'm very excited to read more graphic design theory to discover what these counter-culture graphic designers actually propose. But from reading Bierut's text, the answer regarding revolutionary design seems so obvious that it's crazy they don't address it. Graphic design—the combination of image, color, typography, and photography—basically starts with the Russian avant-garde. And what was it used for? It was used for propaganda, to communicate messages for a revolutionary goal. Would Michael Bierut claim those designs didn't work? Of course they worked. They are respected to this day as incredible examples of graphic design.
The solution to the problem is extremely simple: revolutionary graphic design doesn't mean making obscure art to "enlighten" us. Graphic design is not something that, in and of itself, can be revolutionary. It is something that supplements an economic shift, a shift of real material powers. If those material powers form, like in revolutionary Russia, graphic design will follow, and they will make design that works for that specific client and situation. Graphic design in communist Russia didn't exist because a few designers wanted to make crazy stuff to awaken the people. They made posters that looked avant-garde because they were working for the revolutionary avant-garde, who were on a material level actively doing a revolution. So, of course, the design for that client had to look revolutionary.
In that sense, as a liberal with considerable practical experience, we can agree with Bierut. But we have to make clear that good graphic design is simply design that works for a specific historical moment and a specific client. If that moment and client are materially revolutionary, the design will only work if it is formally revolutionary.
This is the main antagonism Bierut is incapable of untying. He is a lukewarm, Wonder Bread, New York City liberal who thinks 9/11 is the most important event in world history and that The New Yorker is the greatest thing on earth. This socioeconomic position produces a mindset that thinks revolution happens purely on a cultural level, either through radical aesthetics or just by making things look more beautiful. He is mentally incapable of leaving his specific place and time.
Maybe that's an issue with graphic design in general. Why don't designers think? Because they are graphic designers. They work for a specific place and time for a specific client. They are absolutely tied to their material conditions. Nothing will change that unless we stop viewing everything entirely through the lens of our profession. But that's what happens when you work in one position for so long. It's funny he proposed doing a "Car Talk" for design, which is a horrible idea. He talks about it as if it's incredible, but that's literally every podcast today.
What a lifetime of this work does to you is exactly what can be seen in this book. In a funny sense, it's the most Marxist book in the world. You can see how a person's mindset and thinking are 100% determined by their material being—their existence in a certain place and time. He is intellectually starved of the capacity to think outside his specific position.
Nonetheless, this is a very useful and informative book. As one reviewer said, it reads like the ruminations of a white man who doesn't know his own privilege, which is true. But there is still something to get from it—at the very least, a gigantically long list of names of other people to check out who are probably more interesting than Michael Bierut.
If there's one thing I absolutely agree with Bierut on, it's when he says: "All design is stealing." That's absolutely correct. It's very important for every discipline to know its place. For example, psychoanalysis happens in the clinic; a psychoanalyst can't create a theory for the entirety of society. The same goes for Marxism. It's important for a Marxist to listen to a psychoanalyst to learn about the human psyche, and vice versa, a psychoanalyst should probably shut up about macroeconomics. They can collaborate, but they should know their limits.
This limitation is highly productive. It's very clear that an artist isn't a theorist, and a theorist probably shouldn't try to make art. When Bierut says all design is stealing, he's correctly observing that design is not an "event" in the Badiouian sense. That is why design is never revolutionary in and of itself. It's a set of cultural tools utilized the moment a material revolution happens. Designers should know their limitations; design is simply the utilization of the material elements of our semantic network to communicate messages. It's a tool that operates on the semiotic level of society.
Michael Bierut created the branding of Hillary Clinton’s campaign branding. This is the absolute indication of what kind of person you're dealing with: someone who thinks Hillary represented real change. If Bierut says changing society through design amounts to making beautiful packages that make your day better, well, that's basically what Hillary’s brand was. That's what liberal politics is about: we can bomb the Middle East, but at least a woman is flying the plane.
Ultimately, this is a great lesson on the division of labor. Doing one job nine-to-five makes you stupid. It's just plain and simple. It lobotomizes people. I keep thinking of that passage in Marx's The German Ideology where he says you don't have to be just a fisherman or a shepherd; you can hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, and be a critical critic in the evening. That's how you form a meaningful, full life by overcoming the division of labor. If you work as a designer nine-to-five, your whole world becomes design. You become a Michael Bierut. Or worse, you become a weirdo who thinks making crazy graphic design will revolutionize the world. When you're trapped in that nine-to-five reality, it's pretty hard to think your way out of it.

[Jacob · Rating 3 out of 5]

I picked up 79 Short Essays on Design the way I pick up most of my nonfiction: It was on sale, featuring a topic I knew nothing about but could see enjoying learning about, and a little voice in my gut said, "Yes." (Not to mention a quick look-up on Goodreads, something I do for most blind book purchases.) Not bad criteria, really--I've had pretty good success with the method so far--but it explains some of the problems I encountered while reading.

The first problem is a me problem: I am not the intended audience. The intended audience is people who actually know something about design. Professionals, doubtlessly. Students studying design to become a professional. Perhaps learn-on-the-go types without formal training, but who've thrown together some websites. The closest I come to design is trying to pick which free, pre-made Tumblr layout best frames my reblogged content. I reckon, like a lot of people who appreciate art and creativity, I feel like I know good design when I see it, but that doesn't equip me to be able to understand design on any real level. And because I am not the intended audience--a random, lay reader--I think it goes without saying that I would not be able to grasp 79 Short Essays on Design's strengths like someone who does understand design.

Luckily, while I am not the type of reader author Michael Bierut was envisioning, he has a good, casual writing style that smooths over some of the knowledge gap. Also helpful are the short chapters (that my Kindle routinely estimated at 3 minutes in length) and a semi-regular focus on identifiable topics, including the old red The Catcher in the Rye cover, Stanley Kubrick, the Target logo, and the foibles of exercise.

The chapters vary between personal anecdote, rumination on "current" events, critical analysis, historical perspective, and lecture. The variety (as well as the aforementioned bite-sized essay length) helps keep things moving. And even though I don't speak the language of design, a lot of Bierut's observations can be helpful to any sort of endeavor, especially creative ones. I could see applying various bits of advice to writing or music composition; we think of design as visual (like a magazine layout) or utilitarian (how a product is put together), but really, while we don't say we "design" a novel narrative, there are similar principals at play.

Unfortunately, the biggest flaws are those that can't be chalked up to simply me not having a design background.

Most of the essays in this collection were pulled from Design Observer, a website co-started by Bierut. Thus they take on a blog post tone which, to me, is a much different feel than the word "essay" implies. I don't want to denigrate blogging, which is itself a fine artform, but it does lack the sort of rigor I expect from an essay. The "essays" just sort of peter out at the end of their allotted length and often feel oddly weighted, as if Bierut excitedly wrote a page and a half introduction to an idea then only had a page to ruminate on it. Sometimes the focus is hazy, sometimes it feels like Bierut doesn't really know what he wants to communicate about the subject and simply cycles around an idea for three pages.

Also, it feels like the content wasn't adjusted at all for book compilation. None of the essays are aware of each other, so there is duplicity, even in basic things like what acronyms mean or who various people are. Bierut, who seems to write based off of what is inspiring him at the time, makes regular use of "Recently," or "Several weeks back" or other non-helpful time designations. These are completely unhelpful in a book removed from the original time-stamped context of a website. It becomes even more amusing when looking up an event that prompted a "recently" and seeing it was in 2004. Even when the book was published (2007) I'd hesitate to call that recent.

But in my mind the most egregious error was the failure to add any visuals. It's a book about design and it's very weird to be reading an essay about the design of something specific (Rob Roy Kelly's woodcuts, say) without a visual example for the reader to see. Maybe a lot of them are basic enough Bierut didn't think their audience would need a visual reminder, but I'm confident that the majority of graphic designers won't be familiar with everything Bierut talks about.

I'm neither displeased that I read 70 Short Essays on Design, nor that I bought it. But it feels like a lesser product than it should be.

[Terry · Rating 4 out of 5]

Well, I thought I'd read a couple of these, just to get a handle on his thinking. It's a collection of blog posts and articles written over several years for widely different purposes, so as you'd expect, it's a little uneven.

But I found each one interesting enough to get me to turn to the next one, and sure enough, I read all 79 of them.

If you, like me, plan to dip a toe in to see if it's for you? Start with the entry titled "Wilson Pickett, Design Theorist, 1942-2006." Bierut takes Pickett's maxim, "You harmonize, then you customize," and relates that to the design process. Very interesting.

[Marjolein · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not all articles were relevant to me but it was still a good and interesting read!

[Ish · Rating 1 out of 5]

old white guy doesn’t comprehend his own privilege and rambles about random things. waste of time.

[Brendan Byrne · Rating 4 out of 5]

A book about graphic design with no graphics? Weird flex, but ok.

Although not expressly stated in the books introduction, it becomes clear throughout the text that Bierut considers writing an essential part of being a designer. He takes time to reflect on the practice of 'bullshitting' clients or choosing the write words to get them to believe in your work. He's intrigued by the question of whether graphic designers would be 'paragraph' or 'spreadsheet' people and settles comfortably on the former. In another essay, he defends and relishes Philip Nobel's decision to not include images in his book about the design competition for the new WTC building. It's a wonderful experience to have his ideas embodied in the book he designed.

I love the appendix that gives a quick synopsis of every essay. I'm also a big fan of setting each essay to its own typeface. This not only lends a subtle feel to each essay, but also acts as a great reference for anyone who needs to quickly shop for typefaces for their own designs.

Bierut obviously wants the person who buys this book to love it and never give it up. I think he's achieved that.

MUST READ
I would consider these essays essential to the foundation of any designer. They help answer the kind of moral, professional, ideological, and practical dilemmas that aren't usually addressed during a designer's technical training.
4, 10, 13, 40, 48, 54, 58, 60, 63, 74, 76

GOOD
Wonderful, but not mandatory. I found the writing here to be inspiring.
1, 2, 8, 20, 24, 25, 27, 28, 30, 31, 32, 36, 38, 49, 51, 55, 56, 59, 62, 65, 73, 75, 77, 78

FINE
These essays appealed to me for reasons other than the core idea of being a designer. Many of them were Bierut's take on a particular artist or event that I felt was sometimes a little too loosely connected back to design.
7, 11, 14, 15, 16, 18, 19, 21, 22, 23, 33, 34, 42, 44, 45, 50, 57, 61, 64, 67, 68, 71, 79

NOT HELPFUL
Bierut is an excellent writer and although these essays may have covered interesting ideas or personal experiences, I wasn't able to walk away from them with anything.
3, 5, 6, 9, 17, 26, 29, 35, 37, 39, 41, 43, 46, 47, 52, 53, 66, 69, 70, 72

[Lily · Rating 4 out of 5]

At first I was a little intimidated by this book, but it turned out to be a really accessible and engaging window into many different aspects of the design world: history, ethics, aesthetics, and anecdotes from the author’s own career. It’s down-to-earth and concise. It gave me a new perspective on my own experiences with clients, and contained a lot of ideas that are relevant to life outside of design, too.

[Glenn Yu · Rating 4 out of 5]

This one is hard to review because I took so long to read it that I don't have a firm memory of the whole thing, but broadly, my impression was positive. Certainly, I thought a good third of the essays didn't have to be there. I also thought some of the essays weren't edited particularly well. Nevertheless, I found Bierut to be witty, relatable, experienced, thoughtful, and passionate; and in general, I had a very pleasant experience reading this book in companionship with his wonderful mind.

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

Clever, witty, and certainly well-informed, Bierut takes the reader on a romp through the "behind the curtain" of graphic design life, interspersed throughout with his own musings and accounts. As a graphic designer, it was fun to read a work written by someone so talented and renowned (who writes just as adeptly as he designs). Really lively prose.

[Reader · Rating 5 out of 5]

All-time favorite design book. I give it to people looking to break into the industry. These stories just don't grow stale. Bierut is hilarious and comfortable making fun of his own kind–something that the design industry is just not good at.

[Daniel Gynn · Rating 3 out of 5]

Fairly interesting, mostly pretentious.

[Evan · Rating 3 out of 5]

an interesting compilation with a lot of good thoughts - suffers from a total lack of images and i often find myself agreeing more with the people he's mocking than hunself.

[Teodora · Rating 5 out of 5]

best design book to this date

[Steven · Rating 4 out of 5]

The majority of what's collected in this book are reviews, but they sometimes read like essays. Because of this, Bierut's writing refers to controversies and hot topics at the time and they occasionally show their flaws in the light of the passing years. Some are remembrances of influential designers, artists, photographers, and creative persons who have recently passed away and played some role in shaping Bierut's life. But the best work comes in the form of the more recognizable essays, that is, the writings that transcend time while capturing it. A shining example of Bierut's congruent power of writing as a designer can be seen in "On (Design) Bullshit." Bierut recounts one of the major confrontations between architect Richard Meier and artist Robert Irwin in the 1997 documentary, "Concert of Wills," which chronicles the construction of the Getty Center in Los Angeles. He finishes the piece with an example from his years working as a designer with Massimo Vignelli. What is evident in reading these 79 articles is that designers are influenced by any and everything, even falling off a treadmill at the gym.

Given that this is a book on design written by a notable designer (Bierut is a partner in renowned international design agency Pentagram), the content and how it is packaged are presented in a clever manner: each article is presented in a different typeface, most of which is connected to or referenced in the article. (See "I Hate ITC Garamond.")

[J · Rating 4 out of 5]

Though most of the articles hover between snobby graphic designer insider banter and thoughts on kerning, grids, Massimo Vignelli's preferences for writing implements, gossip between different graphic design camps and movements, there are about five articles that save this book:
a) the essay on bullshit wherein Beirut admits openly that a lot of work that involve creativity and aesthetics involve a creative leap (all of which are counter to whatever rationale aka bullshit you'll have to come up with to justify your decisions
b) the coverage of the early days of Tibor Kalman where he argues that graphic designers (or all applied artists)'s main purpose should be to create trouble and I quote," Were not here to help clients eradicate everything of visual interest from the face of the earth. We're here to make them think about what's dangerous and unpredictable. We're here to inject art into commerce. We're here to be bad”
c) some handwringy article about an a designer's dealing with concepts of "authenticity" -- its awkward and unresolved but I share the same feelings
d) a mention of Hitchcokian McGuffins!
e) a great article on Josef and Anni Albers retrospective wherein Beirut argues art can be cold and design can be so celebratory of life (who would have thought!)

[Salomé Esteves · Rating 4 out of 5]

To read this book while being a designer is to be faced with two realities: the first is that familiarity you have with some of the stories and, on the other hand, to be confronted with the million of other things you have left to learn. I love Michael Bierut's work as a designer, and, turns out, he can be a good writer too: simple, to the point and with a bit of humour that always makes a good impression when you talk about design.
For me, as a designer who is writing a master's project on design, this was usefull, practical and funny.
But I do have a point to make, designways. This book was the hardest to read. I usually read on public transportation on my way to or out of work, which can be hard because of curves, bumps in the road, shadows or traffic. This 79 short essays are set in 79 different typefaces. Although it is theoretically well thought, this makes reading hard. I actually had a couple of headaches due to the constant variation of typefaces in addition to be reading in a moving vehicle. Turns out, reading a three page essay set in futura light italic is not very easy.

[AS · Rating 2 out of 5]

Yes, short essays indeed. Short essays that don't really say much of anything. To me, his book is a waste of time. I was forcing myself to read it hoping it would get better, but couldn't really bring myself to finish it. The fact that it wasn't design heavy wasn't the issue, he warns you he's going to veer off into different topics, hoping to open your eyes to more than design, but that can't really be done in an average of 2 pages with type that constantly changes without the perspective constantly changing. Design doesn't have to be obvious, especially when we're trying to read. The looking closer series are better. Maybe I will pick this up when I want to give it another chance, or when I have nothing better to read.

[Chris · Rating 4 out of 5]

Before: I've wanted to read this since it came out, but it's not available at our library and I kept putting off purchasing it. This week the e-book was marked down to just a few dollars so I finally have it in my hands! I hope the layout doesn't suffer from the e-book format, but the content should be great regardless.

After: The design didn't suffer at all. From what I could tell by looking up the paper version online, the two are very similar. There aren't any images in the book, and it was fun to test my memory of typefaces or iconic images as I was reading. I really enjoyed the essays and learned a bit along the way. The last one had me laughing out loud in a waiting room.

[jonathan berger · Rating 4 out of 5]

Good clean fun. Beirut may be a little eager to fall in line with the establishment, but that's kind of refreshing in an industry glutted with self-congratulatory nonconformists and wannabe revolutionaries. He's a talented writer, and has a nice way of drawing substantial connections or narrative arcs in two- and three-page pieces. Also, the gimmick of the book--79 typefaces for 79 articles--works surprisingly well.

[Ramon de Santiago · Rating 4 out of 5]

Most of the essays were worth putting up with some of the lesser ones. After all, this is a compilation of blog postings (mostly) so some of the chapters are very, very short and come off as "throw-away." The book is invaluable as a collection of type specimens; each of the 79 chapters is set in a different typeface, so you can see how each face performs and behaves within the layout design of the book. Pretty cool.

[Laura · Rating 3 out of 5]

Michael Bierut's collection of essays provided an interesting peek into the mind of one of the most renowned graphic designers, but I often found the writing pedantic and slightly mediocre. It did, however, affirm my hope that design involves a lively intellectual and historically-based discourse. For the breadth of subjects broached, it was still a worthwhile read!

[Suzie Hunt · Rating 3 out of 5]

The essays were interesting (if ad-hoc -- there was no sense of organisation or theme, instead it just felt like reading a blog with a selection of random but interesting posts) but the kindle version had no images and when reading an essay about a particular design or designer or building... you really do want to see it!

[Geoff · Rating 3 out of 5]

Very, very short pieces written for a graphic design audience. Wide ranging (Wilson Pickett?) & interesting, but too short. most essays left me wanting either more info or more than a surface treatment.

[Eric · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the most insightful and accessible books on design you can find. Bierut has a knack for storytelling and weaving graphic design into everyday life. Required reading for all graphic designers.

[Chris · Rating 5 out of 5]

A fairly humorous look at the design profession and its clichés.

[Gaelyn · Rating 3 out of 5]

some are better than others. easy to skip over those that aren't as good.