Friday, July 15, 2011

Unveiling the Logo Overlook!™®©

Built slapdash against the Haul of Wonders,©®™the Logo Overlook!™®© is open for business!

Visitors who can somehow overlook the questionable construction will get a glorious overlook of the air conditioning units snaked across strip mall roof after strip mall roof. That blue line in the horizon, beyond that smudge of trees there? That's the ocean. Or a creek. Or haze.

Resting their eyes from all the beauty, visitors can look over or overlook (it's all about freedom of choice here at the shawndrawn®™ complex) the eponymous logos, on display as frequently as Itch-a-Sketch©™®. Which is to say, not often.

(I don't create a lot of logos, don't market as a logo designer; still, I enjoy them, especially the visual haiku they force on one's creative skills, to conjure something concise and memorable; consequently, the logos on display at Logo Overlook™©® may get dusty waiting for changeouts.)

What I call Juan Gris variations, after the Spanish
cubist painter and sculptor.
First exhibit: Logos done for Daniel Roest (say "Roost") a classical guitarist who performs with orchestras, runs an association of classical guitarists, and books his own gigs (weddings, anniversaries, conventions). Daniel needed a mark to represent his gift and his business.

He recently asked for a color version of his mark, done a while back, and that led me on a search of it, where I rediscovered a number of proposed treatments, which I like. More or less.

The final marks, above, are designed for several purposes. Daniel works with a woman flutist (flautist?) in his booked gigs, so I designed the two figures to complement one another; the male figure can still stand alone, and often does: In fact, I have not seen the logo in use with both figures, or with the text below. When Daniel Roest uses the logo, as far as I can tell, it's for the Sacramento Guitar Society; that is the mark he asked me to color.

Early version of guitar man. Eh. It's got
that idea of serving up the music, at least.
I wanted a calligraphic feel of the marks, and attempted to do so with traditional calligraphic tools. I soon descended into loop-de-loop hell, trying to get the swooshes to mix and match in line weight and dramatic angle. Ultimately, I mimicked the brush stroke, with its bristle flicks and imperfections, entirely with vector art in Adobe Illustrator.®™

Early man/woman version.
She looks too much like a
shadow, an afterthough, here.
The rooster guitar was a throw-in, just an extra personal mark that was bugging me to get out, because of the pronunciation of Daniel Roest's name. He liked it, and mentioned after that his childhood nickname was Rooster. Google "rooster guitar," and you'll find it's the fifth image that pops up. So far as I can tell, he does not use his name underneath the mark.

Earlier versions center on the feelings I get from his music, and the settings in which he mostly likely would work. Mosaic came to mind, and tile, and cool fountains made of stone in a plaza somewhere, which is how I came up with what I call Juan Gris variations.

In some ways, they resemble tests for colorblindness, which means they don't stand out strongly.

If a credit union played guitar, this would
be ideal.
The hors d'oeuvres version, left, is also supposed to evoke the setting Daniel Roest would play. The staff becomes the little sandwich, the fancy toothpick unfurls loosely into a guitar shape. Eh. Kinda lifeless, and it seems like a lot of unnecessary work went into making it work, which did, and it didn't. Plus, the toothpick sticking out the bottom of the snack? That has always bugged me.

The seasons mark, above right, is meant to embrace the world of variation in Daniel Roest's music, and the many reasons and seasons for playing for others. I dunno; it's kind of generic. My logos tend to be organic and rarely fit a geometric shape, so if anything else, they're unique. My all-time favorite logo, though, does fit all the rules for logo design: The Monterey Bay Aquarium's. That merits its own post someday, in which I sing its praises.

If you survived the Overlook, come back again when you get the courage. Otherwise, it's probably best to step back inside.

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