Another Earth = another minimalist logo

I love the simplicity of this movie’s wordmark. Just one little trick with the O, and the name and the mark work together to convey a single meaning. Nothing too fancy and not overly clever—not trying too hard.

You’ve probably received those email forwards about “awesome minimalist logo designs” [1, 2, 3], but often they feel to me as if they’ve been backed into, little more than rebus puzzles with a “TM” added to imply that someone’s using them as logos. They’re like solutions waiting for a problem—like someone came up with an ad and then waited for a client to sell it to (yes, I am still beating that dead horse). And maybe part of the reason I find it hard to believe that those are “real” logos is that most brand managers and business owners aren’t interested in logos that are riddles. And they’re right not to be.

So it’s refreshing to see something like this elegantly executed and easy to interpret. Is there a second, deeper meaning to the logo? Maybe (I haven’t seen the movie or read much about). There’s an air of mystery in the ads and the name. The logo, despite its simplicity (or because of it?), makes it all even more intriguing. Like good brand design should, it makes me curious to learn more—not just smile and say “oh, I get it!”

Idea? Check. Execution? Eh…

While visiting the US I stopped by Take a Bao, a new concept installed in the food court at Century City’s Westfield Mall. Despite feeling a bit funny about traveling all the way to LA for a Chinese-inspired lunch, I was drawn in by my fascination with fusion food, Take a Bao’s visual identity work, and the fact that I love char siu bao.

The idea for the place seems pretty straightforward. In their own words,

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Over-complicating the simple and oversimplifying the complex

I’ve been doing some competitive research lately, and for once it’s not for a client. It’s for my own company (the one that now employs me), which means I’m examining brand consulting firms and other shops that do basically what we do but maybe call it something different. (Which, by the way, is a plague in this industry—an industry that demands its clients communicate clearly, and yet insists on using nebulous terms interchangeably and coming up with proprietary “processes” that are little more than trademarked names for the same thing all their competitors do. But we can talk about that some other time.)

I looked at fourteen companies in total, including Landor, Interbrand, Futurebrand, The Brand Union, Lippincott, Wolff Olins, Prophet, Siegel+Gale, Added Value, BrandLogic, and four smaller, Asia-based agencies. I chose these firms based on

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Dimensions of differentiation

Differentiate. Decommoditize. Zag. Conventional brand strategy wisdom dictates that in order to succeed, a brand must set itself apart from the competition. Examples of differentiation-driven success abound, and in fact most of the support for differentiation seems to be delivered through case study or anecdote.

But what do we mean when we say “be different?” Telling stories about brands that have succeeded by standing apart from their competition may support the point that differentiation works, but it leaves something to be desired when consulting with a client on how they can differentiate their organization. Instead of listing examples, I wonder if it’s possible to think more systematically about the dimensions along which a brand can differentiate.

I use the word “dimensions” because brand consultants (including me) are often guilty of simplifying everything down to a two-dimensional graph, plotting the competition on the axes, and pointing out where a client has room to stand apart. To illustrate, here’s one of my favorite two-axis graphs from xkcd.com, poetically entitled “Fuck Grapefruit.”

(I can hear the conference-room conversation now…

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Fire! Let’s egress the hell out of here!!

Scene: Rob and a friend wait for the molasses-powered elevator at the Sheraton San Diego. The emergency exit floor-plan is posted nearby.

Rob: “Egress?”

Jim: “Yeah. It’s the opposite of ‘ingress.’”

Jim was right. “Egress” is the opposite of “ingress.” I was impressed by the demonstration of verbal aptitude. But he’d also failed to see my point.

Jim, realizing why I’d pointed it out: “Oh, yeah…I don’t know why they didn’t just say ‘Exit.’”

This sign reminds me of at least three thoughts to keep in mind for those of us tasked with choosing the right words.

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Will Bing be as simple as its name implies?

I’ve just read through some great blog posts and articles on Bing—the name as well as expectations for the upcoming Microsoft “decision engine.” Opinions on the name are all over the map, with (mostly) negative opinions led by naming professionals like those at Snark Hunting and Pollywog. I love the bitter sarcasm over at Snark Hunting, and they make a funny point comparing Bing (“ping” with a “B”) to Zune (“tune” with a “Z”). But one of the earliest lessons I learned about naming (or writing taglines, etc.) is that it’s easy—often too easy—to pick on someone else’s work. Or, to put it more bluntly, to dislike it because it’s not your own.

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