This recent client is a user led charity set up to champion, promote and assist disabled people taking control of their own care provision through the adoption of a personal budget.

Prior to personal budgets being made an available option, those requiring care or assistance in the course of their daily lives were at the mercy of the local authority who dictated exactly what care would be provided, and how and when it would be administered. Typically, this arms length approach to care management, based on only a rudimentary assessment of need, leads to a compromised and often infuriatingly impractical solution for the service user.

The introduction of personal budgets were recognition by the state that it can’t apply a one-solution-fits-all approach to care. Individuals are just that, individual, and their care needs differ on a person by person basis. Considered a victory of common sense by many, in effect personal budgets take the money the state would have paid for an individual’s care, and instead hand it directly to the individual. Putting that budget in the control of the end user is a simple way of ensuring the right sort of care is provided, as the decisions are made by the very person who needs it, and they’re free to make whatever decisions they wish by spending the money any way they see fit.

One member of the group I met during the consultation process, a wheelchair user with experience of both the old system and the new system, was very keen to inform me of the life changing effect this switch had brought him.

Prior to the changeover, he had been at the mercy of a twice daily visit from whichever rushed nurse was in the vicinity, who had to hurriedly fit in assisting him bathe and get in and out of bed around a hectic schedule racing around providing similar care to people all over town. His situation highlighted how difficult it is to live any sort of meaningful life when your daily routine has to fit around the inconsistent timetable of a badly overstretched nurse. Having only been able to get out of bed at 11am and put back there again at 4pm, and allowed only the occasional shower, it was clear the system really wasn’t working.

Upon taking control of his own affairs, he was able to employ a regular personal assistant of his choice to be there when his timetable dictated, to provide the exact and consistent assistance he needed. Be it child care, transport, assistance getting to work, assistance with domestic responsibilities, whatever, now he had started calling the shots, his care provision could finally start living up to its name.

For the same cost to the state, personal budgets allow a meaningful and productive life to be lived where before, all too often only mere existence was permitted. A victory for common sense it certainly is. However it’s far from plain sailing.

With all control handed over to you, you have all the responsibility. You’re on your own. The task of employing your own personal assistant might not initially sound that tricky, but when you realise how little you know about advertising for and interviewing staff, employment law, disciplinary procedure and all the things companies employ full time HR departments to deal with, you start to realise how complicated it’s going to be.

Compounding the already terrifying nature of that prospect, typically those choosing to take on a personal budget are those coming from the old regime of day centres and health visitors, entangled in a lowest common denominator, state sanctioned bureaucracy where a culture of reliance and placidity is almost positively encouraged. So overnight, people are propelled from a world where their bedtimes are decided for them by people they’ve never met into one where they’re suddenly faced with such baffling and very serious subjects as the intricacies of employment law.

It’s a massive eye opener, a huge step to take that is both wonderful and terrifying in equal measure. But of course it’s a step very much worth taking, and should you chose to take it, my client is there to provide any help and advice you may need. And being a user led organisation, they can do this because they’ve been through it themselves, so they know the ropes better than anyone.

With that information and more gathered over a number of meetings and conversations, it was time to start working on a new identity for this group before their impending relaunch.

From the information gleaned, it was clear the most vital message this logo had to convey was that of change, of ‘before and after’. We wanted a device that could clearly communicate the confines of the old system and the benefits of the new, whilst addressing the fact that taking such a step can also be a terribly scary prospect.

With those three messages to communicate in one device, the open box was the eventual solution. Not just open though, our box had to be burst wide apart. It needed to show that the walls can come down, and what that means. It had to show that the rules can change, that you can be the master of your own destiny and that you can do whatever you see fit to do.

Funnily, this idea informed not just the actual concept behind my design, but also its delivery. This logo has actually caused me some inner turmoil as it breaks just about every rule I have. Nothing follows a grid, nothing sits level and the type sits at an angle across the box below, with everything existing in pseudo 3D space.

As a result of this haphazard structure, it’s a nightmare to align with anything on a page, it needs a huge exclusion zone and it really doesn’t scale well. It relies on halftoning to properly reproduce in single colour and it uses shading and subtle detail easily lost. It’s more illustration than logo, an aesthetically complicated solution of the kind I generally try to avoid. I was happy that it makes its point with satisfactory concision, it just does so in a slightly untidy way.

But it’s not the result of laziness or lack of care, of me settling for the first composition that came along. Really, that untidiness is the design, informed directly by the message it had to convey.

The game has changed, the walls have come down, the rules have gone; if I couldn’t allow myself to work like this, how could I do justice to the message? If I was to let my preconceived graphic designer idea of what makes a good logo dictate the outcome, then I wasn’t waving goodbye to the rules at all. I was still trapped in the system myself.

So I alone (or rather the brief, using me as its agent) had to be entirely in charge of proceedings. I had to do what felt right. I needed to leave the confines behind; to hell with the so called rules dictated by the design industry, the old regime. We now live in a high-def, digitally printed world so forget self imposed, antiquated one colour plus black limitations, forget convention and classical tradition – if I want to use a full colour illustration as a logo I can, and if it works, then I will.

The very fact that it’s a bit eccentric, informal and ignores the plane of the page it’s on, the very fact that it doesn’t easily slot into a layout like some modular, conformist A-size proportioned, swiss minimalist corporate icon is why and how it feels like it does its job. That’s why it stands out from the other logos it will frequently sit amongst. Every time I tried to tidy it up so it would better pander to my designer’s OCD (and trust me I tried), it felt wrong, it lost something and it stopped communicating its point.

It’s funny. Looking back now the project is over, I’m actually surprised by the extent to which the brief informed the design process. The sentiment of the message became my attitude to its delivery. My commitment to the design process felt like it actually led to me ignoring all the design rules I usually love. I absolutely was not designing to appease myself nor any other designer; not even those specific ones I knew would be judging me when reading the eventual and inevitable blog post. The client’s considerations were the only ones I had, I was designing totally for them. And they were very happy with the result.

There was an extra requirement of the brief that I actually chose not to discuss with the client; a key part of the design process that I decided to keep to myself for fear that my thoughts could have seemed a little grandiose. It felt very important to keep in mind that this organisation is user-led. The story of the individual I shared above, the story told to me during our first briefing session represents not just the experiences of the people this organisation is trying to appeal to, but also those of the people who run it. So I felt that this logo had to be a little more than a simple symbol of identification. It had to face inward as well as outward and perhaps act, however subtly, as a bit of a manifesto. Whether it does this or not I might never know, but hopefully I designed in the potential.

I must apologise if I sound a little self impressed – I really don’t mean to. I’m well aware it’s not the Olympic Rings we’re dealing with here, nor is the end result necessarily a particular favourite of even my own recent output. In fact as is always the case with any completed project, hindsight makes me wonder how far I could have taken it had I the benefits of more time, more bottle and, fundamentally, more talent.

So please don’t assume the apparent enthusiasm you’ve just read has been hubris, and that I’m holding aloft my recent work as the shining proof of an epic new dawn in graphic design. Yes, I’m sufficiently happy with my work done here, but mainly I share this project with such enthusiasm and in such tiresome length because it provides a great example of why I find the creative process such a deeply fascinating journey.

Fairly self explanatory, this one…

Recent client request:

“We want something classy, long lasting. Do you know the Olympic Rings logo? We’re after something like that. We don’t want something rubbish, like the London 2012 logo.”

No pressure then? I love requests like that. They’re perfectly understandable of course – the Olympic Rings are timeless, instantly recognisable, elegant and beautifully simple. I get why a client would make such a request. It’s just clear that they haven’t considered the true weight of what they’re asking.

Basically they’re a small regional charity with next to no money, expecting a quite cheap graphic designer working out of an attic in Sheffield to design for them a logo that can compete with that of the Olympic Games.

It’s setting me up to fail really, isn’t it. Of course I’ll try my hardest, I’ll pour everything I have into the project, but if the client is hoping my work is going to outdo one of the world’s best known and well loved logos, I’m guessing my proposal is going to be a source of disappointment.

To avoid such disappointment you’ve got to explain fairly early on to the client why they’re asking the impossible. But it needs to be done tactfully, the point needs to be delivered in such a way that it doesn’t simply look like you’re trying to cover up a lack of skill.

The following was my emailed reply to the above request; my attempt at nipping the issue in the bud. It seemed to work.

“Logo design grows harder with every passing minute. With so many out there in the world already, with no two allowed to be the same and with hundreds being born every day, hitting on that perfect, iconic solution is far more difficult today than it was when some of the world’s most admired logos were designed. It’s worth noting that the iconic and timeless Olympic Rings motif was designed in 1894, a full 28 years before the term ‘graphic design’ was actually coined.

 In 2011 then, the designer is required not to simply focus on a general overview of the client (which will no doubt be little more than a loose set of details applicable to many others) but instead hone in on the finer details which make the client unique. Any organisation that can justify its position in the world will have at its core a unique and valuable quality, and it is the job of the graphic designer to identify it and bring it out, to make it stand off the page. To communicate the idea to the right audience, to turn that unique quality into a strong identity.

The logos typically seen throughout the community, voluntary and social sector tend to follow a formula, as just a quick scan of the web will highlight. Even if you limit your search to local organisations you’ll see many logos featuring overlapping colours, circular motifs, multiple figures standing in circles, interlinking circles, joined hands in circles and so on. There are only so many ways one can design logos for a sector so frequently focussed on collaboration, support, diversity and social causes, if all one does is focus on those blanket qualities. Unfortunately, in 2011, most of them have been done a thousand times over.

So when handling this project, I’ll try to look beyond those qualities pretty consistent to the sector, and instead target those qualities unique to your organisation. These are the qualities that I identified during our meeting, from listening to the group and studying and dissecting the fundamentals of your constitution. By focussing on those qualities unique to the group, we will find a solution that is unique to the group.”

This organisation was a pleasure to work with. They’re a forum consisting of older people who represent other community groups and organisations in the area, coming together to discuss and take action on the issues that face older and elderly people. They engage with the relevant powers that be, from health authorities to local councils, in order that their concerns don’t get overlooked, they make noise where it’s needed and make sure attention is paid to the right things.

They approached me with the request for a logo that was, above all else, calm and mature. They wanted to avoid ‘trendy’, yet were keen to shake the image of stuffy old people. Any solution had to be relevant in today’s world, but at the same time it needed to reflect the subject matter which is, essentially, about old age.

I thought about the brief. It seemed like a bit of a paradox I had to communicate really. We’re modern, but we’re old too. How do you deal with that?

My attention turned to reassessing what age actually is. The forum exists to combat that common assumption that with age comes irrelevance. It’s there to ensure the needs and concerns of older people aren’t dismissed, by those in power, as the irrelevant bleatings of blue rinse biddies (their words). This is what my design had to communicate.

I had to think about what older people offer that’s unique. What can the group say that other people won’t have considered? What do they bring to the table? The overwhelming answer seemed to be perspective. Wisdom based on experience. They’ve been around a long time. Older people are relevant, they’re here getting on with it like everybody else. They’ve just been here a bit longer.

That’s where the logo came from. The bold, modern sans serif typeface states the relevance of the organisation in the modern world, sitting off the page at a dynamic angle. Beneath is the classical serif shadow it casts, a subtle indication of the years of experience that lie behind their words and actions.

At first glance it’s a device not immediately noticeable, but I like it that way. It highlights the mistake commonly made by those the forum exists to engage with. It’s a logo that shows it pays to pay attention. It’s a message delivered in a calm and considered way, in much the way the group goes about its business.