It is the pride and honor of every designer to have the opportunity to work on something that is truly profound. Such opportunities, like designing the Jüdisches Museum, Berlin or the Tube Map for London’s Underground, seldom grace the life of a designer. But, the opportunity to design a country, is one that almost never happens.

That is, until Dutch designer Daniel van der Velden was commissioned in 2003, to design money, passports and stamps for the abandoned water fortress off the British coast, proclaimed to be the independent micro-nation of The Principality of Sealand.

As disputed and controversial as this nation status may be, the project to conceive Sealand’s visual identity was not without complexity. Part and parcel to ‘The Sealand Identity Project’ and the uniqueness of this man-made, self-proclaimed nation, was the internet, as global archive.

In a press release in 2003, Van der Velden is quoted as saying:

The consequences of the internet’s daily usage, its universal vastness and its potential to blur the boundaries between the ‘real’ and the ‘fictional’, will be key operators in the design methods employed. nettimes.org

a little history

Before we get into the complexities in designing for this particular identity project, let me give you a little history about the “country.”

During WWII, the United Kingdom decided to establish a number of military bases along the borders of the English territorial waters, to defend against German air raids. They were home to 150-300 personnel, plenty of radar gizmos and a healthy cache of anti-aircraft cannons.

After the war ended, the troops were pulled out and these water fortresses were dismantled. That is, all except for the royal fortress Roughs Tower, which was situated in international waters, of the North Sea.

In 1966, Paddy Roy Bates, a former English major, moved onto the water fortress to establish a pirate radio station. Later that year, formally 1967, Bates proclaimed the base his own state and took the title of Prince. In 1968, following defensive action taken by Sealand, towards approaching British vessels, the British courts found they could not exert any jurisdiction over Roy of Sealand, since it was outside of British national territory, and thus, provided the first formal recognition of the Principality of Sealand.

on Branding a Country

Getting back to the point, the task of branding a country is a rewarding challenge few of us designers could ever hope for. Developing the identity for the Principality of Sealand, with all of it’s absurdities is compelling on an entirely separate level. Though the proclamation of nation status, is no doubt a serious one for Prince Roy of Sealand, I have a hard time regarding this at face value. The nature of this particular nation, seems to make it more akin to great works of conceptual art, than other nations. In this way, the objectives for developing an identity, seem entirely unique.

Lets first take a look at the Principality of Sealand crest.

This is, undoubtedly, an integral part of the overall branding and identity package.

It is the nation-state equivalent to the corporate logo. The historical, seafaring influence in the Sealand crest is apparent. The serpent-lion creatures, flanking the traditional, coat of arms shield, have been long standing symbols of sea vessels. The armor helmet, fisted arrows and Latin slogan, are also common features in this sort of identity.

What sets this crest apart from others, is not it’s subject matter, but in fact the manner in which it has been rendered. Unlike the formal stuffiness or fear inducing qualities we have come to expect from a code of arms, the Sealand crest makes strides in the opposite direction.

In fact, I would go as far as to say, I would be much more likely to expect this guy (pictured left), an illustration for a childrens’ coloring book, to be on the page adjacent to the Sealand crest, than an official document of any kind.

The distinct coloring book quality of the crest, creates an atmosphere that makes a person want to giggle (and maybe even request an official Lord or Lady title, with the Principality of Sealand).

All in all, it kind of makes you feel warm and fuzzy

I couldn’t help but immediately think of Ze Frank’s Red Alert piece, about designing for Homeland Security.

In this same very spirit, Van der Velden has managed to encapsulate the vibrancy and friendly (aside from the occassional anti-aircraft blast) spirit of Sealand. His cynically happy interpretation extended from the national crest, to the official postage stamps and into every facet of Sealander life.

How can you not be a fan. Fine work Mr. Van der Velden. Very fine work. It makes me want to be a citizen. In 2007 Sealand went up for sale. Too bad I missed the boat (or country, as the case may be). This would have been a fine piece to add to the collection.

It’s a lazy Saturday morning. I woke up, brewed some coffee (helping myself to some more right now), sat down at my computer and started browsing through my RSS feeds. That’s when I came across an article by Adrian Shaughnessy, on Design Observer, Look and Feel / Nip and Tuck.

It’s kind of a silly thing to write a follow up on, at least at first glance. I set out for a languid read and then found myself involved. So the question, to unjustly reduce the article to a sound bite is this.

Today, the term ["Look and Feel"] has seeped into everyday usage, and it has become widely used by commissioners of graphic design. Why?

The speculation goes on to consider its’ increase use, on the importance of usability in modern design, to referencing overall branding within design. Needless to say, “look and feel”, as a term to describe anything, is vague at best (unless of course you are talking about a car, and even then, it begs for articulation).

In scanning through some of the responses to Brian’s article, one jumped out at me with a poignant questions:
Are we trying to keep this shit a secret?

Agent Look and Feel

That’s precisely it! “Look and feel” is a secret, or at least what it is used to articulate by the layman. It is an attempt to sum up and communicate with, as some might see it, a very esoteric service, design.

The term befouls the integrity of design, for sure, but should it offend? I don’t think so. “Look and feel,” as well as the use of “design” as referenced in the article, are both expressions of flattery, if you think about it. They are, as well as other phrases like “presence”, “mood” and “energy”, illustrations of admiration, from people seemingly outside the esoteric circle. For lack of words (and possibly understanding), the terms are honest attempts to capture what it is we do as designers, without devaluing or diminishing. Are they over used? Are the appropriations unnerving? Absolutely.

To approach it from a different angle, how would you describe a design, or what you hope to accomplish through design? I’ve been through my share of critiques and “look and feel” is not by any means the most horrific way of description. I am, however, disturbed when I hear designers adopting these vague terms and using them in practice.

One of the most important things you learn as a designer, is that communication is the key to success. If you can’t articulate, both what the client is asking for and what you hope to accomplish, you will find yourself in a horrible tornado of terms, like “look and feel.”

My advice when talking about design, is to be as specific as possible. If a client asks for a modern or edgy “look and feel”, ask them about color, ask them about space, or better yet, tell them what you would recommend and why, given your knowledge of the requirements.

Perhaps if we, as designers, become better articulators of design, we can educate the masses. I don’t think we will ever rid the world of boiled down, esoteric terms, like “look and feel”, but we can learn how to respond to them.

“Look and feel” is esoteric. It leaves mystery. It is meaningless, but also flattering.

I’m not one to think of products like soap or tube socks, as having a user interface, but in the practical sense, they do. We tend to lump product user interface design, into the parent category of product design. None-the-less, there is a distinction here. In some products, we can refer to the user interface as Ergonomics, such as the chair I’m seated in. In others, this doesn’t seem to be appropriate, such as a bag of cookies (or, in my case, a can of cookies).

Thursday night, after a nice meal at Yo Yo Sushi, we decided to stop in and pick up a few things at the drug store. While we were standing in line to check out, Lauren buckled at an impulse rack and purchased some cookies that were on sale 2 cans for $5.

I have to say, they didn’t look bad. They were described as Delicious Caramel Toffee Cookies, and two for five bucks. Okay, maybe the sake from the restaurant was helping this impulse, but the deal was sealed and we never looked back.

Fig. 1

That is, until the following morning when we were having a hankering for some delicious caramel toffee cookies. That’s where the bad cookie UI design comes in.

First, Lauren tried opening the can. She removed the strip of tape from around the lip of the lid and proceeded to try to pull the lid to the can off, with her fingers. Grunt, Moan, Whimper! Next, being a man (and feeling I should do something about that), I decided to step in and offer my manly strength. Grunt, Moan, Whimper! ( ego crushed ).

So indeed, serious problems call for serious solutions. Out comes my all-in-one, portable cookie tool ( pictured at the top ), which by the way was purchased from an impulse rack as well.

Bang, Crunch, Slice! ( see Fig 1.)

Ah, cookies at last (wipes sweat from brow). They were lousy by the way. But as I reached in for another, I noticed the cause of all my frustration, Poor UI Design!. Seriously. This wasn’t like a bag of potato chips you can’t open. That’s just poor manufacturing or wrong materials. This was a case of poor design. The lid, you see, did not fit over the top of the can, as you might expect, seeing as the lip was on the outside. It actually went inside the can and then curled over the top of the can to form a pinched lip. This is similar to how the top of a can of soup is sealed to the can. The difference being, they expect you to use a can opener to get to your soup, not to your cookies.

There is something to be said for making resolutions. I don’t necessarily attach these to a particular time of the year or particularly special occasion, but I do make them. Resolutions help you grow, right? At least, that’s the intention.

There has been an interesting buzz trending around the internet, for the past few weeks, that shouldn’t go unmentioned. The buzz word in this trend is critique. Whether it’s criticizing ourselves, criticizing others or criticizing how others are criticizing us, the venom is in the air. ‘Tis the season, right?

I think critique is healthy. It can be a method by which to grow, much the same as a resolution. In fact, at best, healthy critique can lead to thinking, reflection and ultimately resolution.

On December 13th, Andy Clarke stirred up the bees’ nest by calling for a disbanding of the CSS Working Group. Two days later Jeffrey Zeldman responded to Andy’s rally, with rather harsh criticism.

…Proposing change because you are disappointed and frustrated isn’t good enough. Anger can be brilliantly motivating; but anger is not a strategy.

Many others chimed in and virtually tore Andy a new one. So this, we find ourselves at a crossroads. Will this upheaval turn over fresh enthusiasm or will wounded soldiers turn away from each other, with hands stuffed in pockets?

One of Andy’s most inflated critics was Daniel Glazman, who went on to say:

…What do you think is a standardization body ? It’s a BATTLEFIELD where vendors fight for competitive advantage…

Actually, I think that was Andy’s point. That is NOT what a standardization body should be! We, as a community of developers are not pushing for standardization so that private companies can have a competitive advantage! That, in part is what we are trying to avoid. But again, this discourse was all very good. Angry, pissed off, frustrated et al., the discourse was happening. The test, in my eyes, was to see how was how Andy would respond.

I have a background in art. I know criticism. I can be a ripe asshole at times, but I can also take as well as I can give. Andy handled the attacks well and elaborated on his earlier, more top-off rant, with clarity.

There are two possible things I see coming out of this. One – A split. Developers against developers. A divide and conquer strategy that could prove valuable to proprietary browser companies. Two – A new found commitment and passion. An opening of communication channels between website developers and browser programmers.

Rivalry is in the blood of all developers. A strong belief in what you know, is part of what makes us do what we do. But, in all of this, it is important to remember pecking order. We don’t make websites so that web browsers have a purpose in life. And browser developers don’t make web browsers so that our websites have a place to live. As developers on both sides, we have the same goals. We can be pushed and pulled, but should always remember that.

I’m off to board a plane to New York. Wishing everyone the best for the new year.