Why your designer won’t make the logo bigger

Image by Andrea Piacquadio, Unsplash

Image by Andrea Piacquadio, Unsplash

Chances are that your graphic designer is overly polite and doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, let alone insult you. After all — you’re paying her for her time (I hope). But trust me on this one: every time your designer tells you “no, that won’t work,” or “what if we do this instead,” or “I’ll have to think about that,” or even goes quiet for a few seconds, you’ve suggested something that makes perfect sense to you — “Why don’t we make the logo bigger, and put it in the corner? There’s plenty of space, right?” — but simultaneously illustrates your complete lack of understanding about anything design-related.

It makes sense. You hired someone to design for you, not because you cannot use design tools, but because you do not understand the reasons why “designed things” look “good.” You think you understand — but you don’t. And that’s fine.

It’s fine in exactly the same way as to how you don’t know why your house doesn’t collapse. You think you know, but ask any construction worker or architect, and you’ll find out that you have no clue what’s keeping your house standing upright for decades on end. Or, if your car breaks down, you think you know what’s wrong, but you aren’t able to fix it yourself, so you bring it into the repair shop.

With cars and houses, the stakes are high and tangible. Being stranded in the middle of nowhere or having a roof collapse isn’t something you want to bestow on yourself. So, you leave it to the experts. With design, not so much. Everyone is entitled to have a certain taste and a personal preference. And everyone knows what they like, and what they don’t like.

So, why won’t your designer just make the logo bigger?

There’s plenty of space.

Nothing well-designed is the way it is, simply “because it looks good.” It’s the other way around: it looks good to you as a result of the way it is. Think about it. The brands you love don’t all look alike. But you do think every single one of them looks great in their own way. How can that be? Didn’t we just establish that you have a personal preference? Then how come you like how clean and sophisticated Apple’s identity looks, but also how bold and dynamic Red Bull’s marketing is? Apple and Red Bull look nothing alike.

What’s going on here?

It turns out, in a way, Apple and Red Bull do look very similar. And so do Target, Nike, JCPenny, Home Depot, and Coca-Cola. They look alike in the sense that they are all consistent in their visual language and that their design system is so well-defined that there’s no wiggling-room. They know exactly how big their logo should be in every possible scenario because they’ve thought about it a lot.

Apple has developed a design system that is deceptively simple. Everything about Apple’s design is functional. Only the very essential elements are present, and as a result, the tiny bit of information there is left always takes centre stage. Photo …

Apple has developed a design system that is deceptively simple. Everything about Apple’s design is functional. Only the very essential elements are present, and as a result, the tiny bit of information there is left always takes centre stage. Photo by Julian O’hayon on Unsplash

In a whole different way, Red Bull has embraced a much more eclectic approach. Their logo gets smacked onto anything as big as possible, even if that means breaking the logo apart. Colour? Yes, please — but only red, blue and yellow. The linearity b…

In a whole different way, Red Bull has embraced a much more eclectic approach. Their logo gets smacked onto anything as big as possible, even if that means breaking the logo apart. Colour? Yes, please — but only red, blue and yellow. The linearity between Apple and Red Bull is that they are both very explicit and pronounced about the way they present themselves. They both follow their own rules consistently, never missing a beat. Photo by Patrick Robert Doyle on Unsplash

It looks great to you because it all feels like it works. It makes sense.

Every aspect of a great design has a purpose. The colour. The use of space. The borders — or lack thereof. The font, the letter-spacing, the leading, the kerning, the shapes, the patterns, everything there is, and everything there isn’t, is the result of rational thinking, debate, and ultimately, logic. Every aspect of a design, also everything that is not there, is deliberate. That is what constitutes good design. Purpose.

Contrary to what people believe, designers don’t think in shapes or trippy colours or twenty-five dimensions. Designers think in function. Even for the simplest of things, like a business card, the designer starts thinking about an underlying structure based on a set of requirements.

This is not to say that visual thinking does not exist. Quite the contrary: it’s been documented that over 60% of the general population has the ability to practice visual thinking, and it is safe to assume that many designers fall into this group. However, what really matters is what the designer visualises. The answer is: the designer visualises solutions to problems, not entire works of art. Being able to visualise potential solutions before drawing them onto a canvas greatly speeds up the design process. But it doesn’t change the fact that the choices made are based on the set of requirements, not on magical creative impulses.

“This company identifies as modest and thoughtful. This means we have to be careful not to use the logo too prominently because that would come across as bold and daring. Maybe we can even get away with not using the logo at all, but just a subtle reference instead? That would be a great manifestation of modesty, and if the reference is clever, it’s also a sign of thoughtfulness.”

Thoughts like these form the very foundations of a design. As the designer thinks, slowly, a structure emerges. A structure based on logic and questions asked and answered. We’re beginning to see now that graphic design isn’t artistry, let alone romantic. It’s a cold, rational process.

“The opposite of being modest is loud and obnoxious, extra large and extra heavy. Perhaps we can look for a smaller sized business card to reflect this modesty. It’s also a nice nod to ecological sustainability: a smaller card requires fewer resources. It says: I’m fine with being smaller. I don’t need much.”

This process goes on and on — even for a business card, there can be 30 or 40 or even 100 choices being made this way. One by one, choices are made by connecting function, expectations, use-cases, and even precedence to “how things should look.” These choices determine the use of space, colour, shapes, and text. As the process evolves, more and more options are crossed off, and eventually, the designer arrives at a point where everything makes perfect sense.

When you then look at that business card, and you think, “well, damn, that looks great,” it looks great to you because it all feels like it works. It makes sense. Everything that is there, and everything that isn’t, is working in harmony to do, say, and convey exactly what it should—nothing more, and nothing less.

And then someone comes along and says, “Maybe make the logo bigger, and move it to the corner. There’s plenty of space.”.

Other fields

The late nineteenth-century architectural and industrial design principle “Form follows function” draws a great parallel between three dimensional and graphic design. It is strikingly summarised as “the shape of a building or object should primarily relate to its intended function or purpose”.

In addition, many other fields have well-documented protocols on how a (design) process should take place. An example of this is the engineering design process: “A common series of steps that engineers use in creating functional products”, of which the first two steps are research and [defining] design requirements. “Establishing design requirements and conducting requirement analysis, sometimes termed problem definition (or deemed a related activity), is one of the most important elements in the design process.”

An endnote on briefings

The process outlined above is exactly the reason why a designer needs a clear briefing, well-defined context, and, most importantly, space and time to think and ask questions. “I want you to design me cool, bold, manly looking socks” isn’t a briefing. If you instruct your designer this way, she has nothing to work with — nothing to base her choices on, no directions to explore, no context. “Cool” and “bold” have different manifestations for everyone. “Manly” is, well, who knows what “manly” means. And, for the love of CMYK, why socks in the first place?

A good briefing would be: 

“We are looking for ways to manifest our brand among fanatic gym-goers. Our data (please find the report attached) suggests that they are, as a group, very representative of our brand, and they speak our language. One of our ideas is to hand out pairs of socks specifically designed for gym-use to our most loyal customers. Because we want the socks to be conversation-starters, they’d have to really catch the eye. We haven’t yet figured out the specifics, so we would like to ask you if you could think about the packaging and the design for these socks. As we plan to only produce 500 pairs, in order to limit costs, we would like the socks to have at most three colours.”

Such a briefing is bound to trigger a designer to attack your assignment. There are constraints, there is context, and there is a clear goal to be achieved — all of which are required to do a great job as a designer.

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Reinoud Schuijers

Reinoud is the co-founder of srj.agency — a Dutch design agency focused on brand development. He also writes about marketing and design.

https://medium.com/@reinoudschuijers
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