Now *that’s* an award

On the heels of our Nori celebration, we find ourselves pondering awards.

Future contests to enter, sure, but even more intriguing, awards to hand out.

Best dilution of a message.

Best vanillazation of a concept.

Best creative hemorrhage.

Best logo hijack.

Best wow-who-knew-it-could-be-ruined-quite-so-comprehensively.

And for the Best in Show equivalent, the award for most consistently undervaluing the creative process and diminishing the worth of your own campaign by assuming you can do it better.

Bitter much?

Nah, only when we know how badly a worthwhile organization has shot itself in the foot.

You can lead a horse to water.

Hi, I’m Papyrus. I am not your friend.

Enough is enough. 

Despite our call to arms back in 2007, the typeface is still in circulation, perhaps even gaining popularity. This nearly illegible font is used, time and again, on billboards, menus, and packaging throughout our region. 

This is upstate New York, people. Not Egypt.

Still not convinced?

True story.

So we're up on-property for this gigantic photo-shoot, a 3-day affair at the Sagamore. Mid-afternoon on day one, the shot is in Trillium, the resort's flagship restaurant. A while back, Trampoline worked with the executive committee up at the hotel to reposition Trillium, in order to make the spectacular dining room feel a little more inviting.

Between shots, while the photographer's assistants were repositioning and light-metering, I sidled up to the head waiter, who was looking on with interest. I asked what time they opened, nervous that the afternoon was slipping away. 

"Six" he replied. Plenty of time.

Always curious about the effect of design on business, I asked if they'd been busy this summer.

"Yes" he replied. Apparently not a man of many words.

"So," I pressed, "I mean, busier than in the past? See, our company designed the new mark and message for Trillium, and I'm curious if the image and the ads are working."

"Eric Cartman?" He asked. 

Now I'm lost. "Um, huh?"

"Eric Cartman!" he blurted. "Y'know, from South Park. Hey Bill," he elbows the barkeep, "this guy here did Cartman."

The bartender guffaws and keeps wiping glasses. Obviously there's an inside joke, and I'm pretty sure I'm the butt of it. As the photo shoot resumes, the headwaiter grabs a menu and explains himself. 

"The logo looks just like Cartman when you turn it like this." he said, animated. "I even drew little arms and legs on him once."

A minute ago I couldn't get this man to string two words together and now he won't shut up.

Poor, Pitiful Papyrus

CAUTION: Design Rant, dead ahead. 

We do business in the Adirondacks of New York State. The region is full of log home builders, fishing guides, lumberjacks, beauticians, jewelers, orthodontists, and street performers—all using the same font to help position themselves as earthy and accessible: Papyrus. 

This has to stop. Paging through local publications, we see the same tired approach time and time again. It's tough to watch. 

Sometimes the same folks use a "Got Milk" knock-off for their ad campaign. Or try to duplicate the Mastercard "Priceless" approach—but that's another rant altogether.

Papyrus is a bit of a thing in the office. We all have our own design pet peeves. Sean doesn't like letterspaced lower case letters. Derek is offended by coated paper, Trina hates off-the-shelf patterns, Raeanne has a conspiracy theory involving Pantone colors, but we all pretty-much agree that Papyrus is overused, and bad to begin with.

And should be phased out immediately. 

At which point Zapfino will assume the role of horribly-designed-yet-incredibly-asscessible, and overused, typeface.