RAND, Paul. BASELINE 27. London: Bradbourne Publishing, 1999. Paul Rand’s Laboratory: the Art of Book Jackets and Covers by Steven Heller.

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BASELINE 27

Mike Daines & Hans Dieter Reichert [Editors]

 

Mike Daines & Hans Dieter Reichert: BASELINE 27. London: Bradbourne Publishing, 1999. Original edition. A near-fine magazine in printed stiff wrappers and dust jacket: trace of wear overall. Printed dust jacket also acts as a poster by Mary Vieira.  Cover: Collage Paul Rand 1970. Photography by Milton Ackoff.

9.5 x 13.75 saddle-stitched magazine with 54 elaborately-designed pages. From the current Publishers: "During 21 years of publication, 'Baseline' has become the leading international magazine about type and typography. It began life in 1979, published by the graphics arts products manufacturer, Letraset. It was originally intended as mainly a vehicle to promote new typeface designs, made available under licence to typesetting system manufacturers. Published "when available material allowed," 'Baseline' nevertheless gained an immediate reputation despite only appearing on average once a year for its first 10 years of existence. Its editorial content, despite the obligatory typeface promotion, struck a chord with the typographic community, because of its objective, and informed approach.

  • Editorial: Hans Dieter Reichert & Mike Daines
  • Reviews
  • The work of Mary Vieira by Prof. Friedrich Friedl
  • Notgeld from Neustat by Jilly & Ian McLaren
  • Paul Rand's Laboratory: the Art of Book jackets and Covers by Steven Heller
  • Hans Schleger – Starting from Zero by Hans Dieter Reichert
  • Phill Grimshaw – A Character Study by Mike Daines
  • A–Z of Type Designers (C–F)
  • Lines of movement for a graphic journey (Photography) by David Gibson

Like a painter who reaches catharsis moving paint, Paul Rand moved type, juxtaposed geometric forms, and manipulated colour masses to frame ideas. ‘Looking at Rand’s designs,’ an admirer wrote, ‘one never has a doubt whether this line should go that way, whether this shape should not be a little larger or smaller, or whether a green star might not be better than the blue circle.’ And this was never more evident than in his book jackets and covers created between 1944 and the late 1960s.

Overshadowed by his early advertising and later corporate careers, Rand’s book jackets and covers are arguably just as significant, and crucial in defining him as a pure artist with a unique vision. Amidst his overall experience book design was simply a logical expansion of his general practice. But this was a field particularly mired in mediocrity, governed by marketing conventions, and more often than not, indifferent to content. Many publishers scrutinized the interior typography of their books, but surprisingly few were concerned with how their books were wrapped. Jackets were considered necessary evils, the province of marketing departments designed as advertisements to hook customers into consuming on impulse. Book designers and editors alike referred to them as unwanted appendages of the pristine book. Nevertheless, the jacket was prime for revamping when Rand was hired to help improve a few progressive publishers’ presentations.

For Rand, book jackets were no different than any other medium that could benefit from good design. In fact, they were better. A jacket did not have to be slavishly literal but rather convey moods or interpret content. Not only were graphic symbols the perfect shorthand; colour, shapes, and lettering could evoke the requisite cues. Presumably the designer could have more control if the advertising and marketing experts could be kept at bay. And since Rand was already rather skilled at controlling this particular foe, he had no stumbling blocks. In fact, Rand always worked with sympathetic clients. Wittenborn & Company (later Wittenborn, Schultz), for instance, gave him ample licence to push the boundaries of their artbook jackets and covers. He used all the methods in his growing repertoire to give each book an individual presence, as well as an overall Wittenborn identity. Advertising had taught him the virtue of anchoring concepts to a consistent design element, such as a logo. In the case of the Wittenborn books, consistency was achieved through gothic titles typeset unobtrusively to underscore the contemporary spirit of the books. The rest depended on the content of the book. — Steven Heller

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