This last week Cory and I explored the depths of our city’s oldest and largest library, the Multnomah County Library, (in fact, it’s the oldest library west of the Mississippi River) to do some research for an upcoming post. I checked out a couple of books for myself, both written by Paul Rand.
One of the books I picked up was a collection of his writings, Design, Form, and Chaos. It provides insight into the mind of the designer and the marketer, the current state of technology and education, and trends within art forms. I found this excerpt of the book quite fascinating:
The ability to intuit is not reserved to any special class of individuals, although many painters, writers, designers, dancers, or musicians believe that this ability is something special, something God-given. The intuitive faculty does, however, seem more pervasive in matters of aesthetics than in those of daily routine. Except in a most general sense, one cannot prove the validity of color, contrast, texture, or shape. Compliance with all the laws and systems of form, restraint, texture, and proportion will not provide proof of the soundness of a work of art, nor guarantee its coming to fruition. This is one of the reasons it is so difficult to understand or teach art and why countless books on art are mere inventories rather than meaningful explanations. Even the brilliant exposition of historians such as Roger Fry, André Malraux, or Rudolf Wittkauer, however inspirational, however compelling, cannot directly generate great or even good works.
Without regard to available systems (e.g., the Golden Section, DIN proportions, typographic grids), the designer works intuitively. This is something about which one is often confused. No system of proportion, color, or space articulation can possibly insure exceptional results. Very often a system is used merely as a crutch, a kind of rabbit’s foot or a good luck charm, regardless of need. A system can be applied either intuitively or intentionally, interestingly or tediously. There is always the element of choice, sometimes called good judgement, at others good taste.
Aside from practical considerations, in matters of form the typographer must rely on intuition. How else does one select a typeface, decide on its size, line width, leading, and format? The alternatives are to repeat one’s previous performances, to imitate what others have done, or simply to make arbitrary decisions.
Rand, Paul. Design, Form, and Chaos. New Haven: Yale UP, 1993. Print.
This approach requires that designers ask themselves the reasoning behind every decision within a process. What qualifies the use of this tool or property? Is it relevant to the design, or is it implemented out of lack of originality? It also allows one to relax and not depend primarily on the formal systems, but purely on one’s intuition and intellect.



