BUTTER

IS (We see.)

L O V E T H Y

N E I G H B R

W E L C O M E

H M E

OCCUPY THE SENSES

Occupy The SensesThis long term project created in the course “Communication Takes Many Forms”, incorporates tools central to visual communication, but also dips into the undercurrent of my particular section of the class which is the consideration of the senses in the development of idea, message and product.

The title of this project is prompted by the Occupy movement that became a household word after the events in Zucotti Park in 2011 in New York City. One of the remarkable aspects of Occupy was its scale and visibility. Dispite its decentral-ized nature, the discourse of outrage against the economic establishment spread in a seemingly organic way, to large numbers of people in similar protests around the globe.

> John Roach - Spring 2013

The projectOccupy the Senses takes this recent groundswell of dissent and asks students to imagine not a popular outcry against economic injustice, but the fantastical no-tion that the liberty of our senses is at stake. Imagine a time and place in which an oppressive regime has determined that the free use of our sense of hearing, sight, touch, taste or smell is dangerous. Imagine for example, that we can only hear during specific times of the day, or in locations deemed appropriate. Imagine that we are part of a group of people that are subjected to this sensorial oppression and that we’ve had enough! The task of the students designing for Occupy the Senses is to develop this concept and to create materials related to the oppressed group.

Each student was responsible for the following materials:• Narrative that describes the Occupy scenario• Brand (visual identity)• Visual messages designed and placed virtually into public sites• Series of buttons that extend the visual identity• 10 pages for this book that bring all of the elements together.

photo credit: Anonym

ous9000C

reative Com

mons License photo credit:

Brennan Cavanaugh

One of the many references for the class was an episode of the radio show 99% Invisible called Recognizably Anonymous about the “branding” of the loose-knit group of agitators known only as “Anonymous”

1. ALEXANDER LARKIN - taste 2. CRYSTAL HENRY - sight3. EMILY LEUNG - touch4. ELYSSA KOHLHAGEN - taste5. DEMETRIO ROTHENHAUSLER - hearing6. RUSSELL KIRK - taste7. KEVIN THOMAS - taste8. JI YOUNG HONG - taste9. RACHEL RICHTER - taste10. NICOLE KENDALL - sight11. SHADÉ FLEMMING - smell12. SUZIE LEE - hearing

Jamal, a young Indian man of just 24 years of age has just inherited his recently de-ceased father’s farm that has been passed on through several generations of the Ahmed family. Inheritance of the fam-ily farm wasn’t expected until later, Ja-mal’s father’s death was very sudden and unexpected. Unfortunately, Jamal’s father committed suicide. Agrarian culture in India over the past 20 years has become increasingly harder and harder to finan-cially thrive. Jamal’s father and his family were largely in debt and this was the pri-mary reason for the untimely death of the patriarch. The debt stemmed from the ri-diculously high cost of the type of seed the family was force to buy and use; specifically Monsanto genetically modified seed. There are many debates about the positive and negative effects and use of GMO food, but this is beside the point. The problem that the Indian farmers face is the monopoly

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Vice

Vice

Monsanto has over the seed market. In India, Monsanto controls about 95% of the cottonseed supply through the monopoly and not through the choice of the farm-ers. Monsanto is able to control every aspect of the seed market. They have inflated seed prices and cost of seed has jumped 8,000%. With this type of increase, the ratio of income to monetary output for the farmers is com-pletely unbalanced. They struggle and struggle without ever being able to make a good profit to continually sup-port themselves and their families. Therefore, many of them are driven to complete breakdowns and often turn to suicide. Jamal’s father was one of the 270,000 farmers that have committed suicide since Monsanto has joined the Indian seed market.

Jamal, furious and fed up with the effect of this company on his own family and many other families he is close to, has decided to become the face of a new revolution in India. He has become another addition to a solid group of leaders campaigning for all Indian farmers whose livelihood has been affected by Monsanto. Together, they have set up a coalition in revolt against Monsan-to that is steadily and significantly growing larger and more powerful day by day.

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Blood Money

TAKE BACKTAKE BACK

DON’T

WHICH

CHOOSEWILL YOU

DON’T

Every night I would see light falling from the skies each one like floating dew glowing like the stars had begun gracing our eyes with their beauty that always stood in the distance. They would just hover around me filling the world and I was so en-amored by their beauty I didn’t know how to process it, and suddenly without any warning their colors would change and they would start to disappear I would try to grab each one. Fran-tically sprinting left right jumping up without gaining any dis-tance like a hungry chick bound to its mothers nest. Like a child I was just desperate for them to say just to hold a single glowing light to keep my world illuminated. I would eventually have one with my palms cupping it like the most delicate of flowers but I would see this one change colors in my own hands then I would see it fade. The sadness was overwhelming it sucked me into it as the dim glow began to slip away around me instantly I was awake tears saturating my pillow. Yet every night I still hope to dream of the light that could fall from the sky if even for a mo-ment to illuminate this world, to remember the sight of a world.

I walked through the door feeling across the rough sur-face each groove under my hand guiding me through. My steps echoed around me the halls barely chanted life back. I wanted to yell for her no answer I had known this already was the risk. , We knew the consequences to our love. The law was if you are found together you lose your sight. I remembered her tears it’s the only image I retained before they took my sight her face it was beautiful but it was so sad I had never thought a person could be hurt to see tears.

THE REVOLUTION

Have you met those who have lost their sight? Who have neen robbed of the sun of the ones they love. Lives who have been reserved for darkness, who have to try and remember vauge images of what once was, those who can only see in their dreams. Have you heard the names of some of the robbed?

Stacy Comrand and David Learner Brandon Davis and Lisa Conner Kozmo Guzman Nicole Adames Eli Stanford and Kari Thomson Thom-as Campbell and Harvey Bonti Carey Ponter and James Johnson John Marley and Annie Ponty Yadi Stamos and Jesus Corner Karen Campbell and Tyrone Blank Christopher Adam and Nikki Davis Willfi Estoy David Lynnch and Farah Pont Arlene Benson and Luis Gerard Angela Hector and Abby Siedman Emanual Fieldman and Barbra Hibbs LeRoy Alfred and Cynthia Mornock Casper Enid and Cancellare Jane Ban-shael and Fansior Birmingham Brian Tsst and Charllene Fancis Mark Davis and Tereasa Sta-mos Nancy Willis and Trevor Mason Tammy

These are just a few of the names of the recently robbed, this year alone.

All the hours spent under stale, white stucco ceilings working towards our futures, towards our so-called happiness. Our bodies adjusted to the constant chill. Goosebumps under the layers. Even when you awaken and highlight the best angles of me with your glow, I cannot feel your warmth. I still squint my eyes at you yearning for the tingle you leave on the apples of my cheeks. The way you wrapped around me with your energetic embrace until the minute you lay down to rest. What were warm splintered wooden chairs and clammy hands seem so far away and intangible.

We grew colder, wondering why the hours, days, weeks passed by without any memories. Not even a glimpse, a stream of warmth peeks through our tall buildings and narrow avenues. I miss your presence on the back of my neck when I turn away from you. Like shimmering, fluttering butterflies bouncing from one head of hair to another. All there was left, the numbness of my skin and a runny nose. When I couldn’t feel the sun anymore.

It was the year 2020. The skies were grey with pollution, snow no longer fell, birds couldn’t chirp, flowers didn’t bloom, the ocean was no longer swimmable and The United States of America had become a communist state. Due to the decimated crops and the ever-growing population, there was a shortage of livestock. In re-sponse to the shortage, the government and farmers teamed up and decided to secretly stop serving meat to the public. In order to do this without detection, they developed a drink that would permanently neutralize the taste buds of anyone who drank it. The sense of taste was eliminated after just one sip. They then served the drink for free to the public so they would never know that their meat had been swapped out for soy and man made imitation product. The ap-pearance of and packaging of the fake meat were aesthetically identical to real meat pri-or. The prices of meat remained the same so that the public wouldn’t be suspicious of the switch and so the government and farm-ers would make a larger profit. Due to the

switch, they were making tons of money. The government and the farmers were the only ones who still had working taste buds and who still ate real meat. They had unlimited resources of food all to themselves. They would feast together for every meal. A couple of years after the meat swap out, one of the farmers felt guilty about the situation after one of his friends was hospitalized after becoming severely iron deficient. He then broke the promise of secrecy by explaining what had happened to his friend and his friend’s family and began sneaking him real meat. Once he told his friend’s family, word began to spread, and a protest group arose. Not all were bothered by the switch, the vegans, and veg-etarians didn’t mind, but the rest of the public was outraged and decided to form a protest group.

WHA

T’S RE

ALLY ON YOUR PLATE?

No music, no radio, no CD’s, no mp3’s, no dancing, no music for God’s sake….

It’s all I can think about, no music, no music… I can’t live like this! I don’t know how much longer I can go without music, it has been 27 years and not a single note has been heard. Each year the president prom-ises us that we will be given our Iphones and musical instruments back, but nothing…

Yesterday I went to a secret, extremely illegal, under-ground concert. About 100 people attended; that’s the most people i’ve seen in these incognito events: but this time, everyone had a patch on their clothes, it looked like a new brand of some sort and Yesterday I went to a secret, extremely illegal, underground con-

cert. About 100 people attended; that’s the most people i’ve seen in these incognito events: but this time, everyone had a patch on their clothes, it looked like a new brand of some sort and I wanted to wear it.

It was a black and white headphone, with ears as the spekers, and a phrase that read, “Let us Listen”.

The lights dimmed and the concert began. A pretty 13-year-old girl sung songs in tones that made us feel a powerful wave of energy. It was the most beautiful thing I have heard in entire life. She was accompanied by an intense violinist around the age of 45, and by some 20 year olds banging on some vibrant African drums.

After the concert my best friend explained to me what the patch in the peoples clothes meant and

he said, “James, you know what those headphones mean? its a symbol that represants a forming upris-ing... and ou know what?... it’s being planned as we speak,. It has been said that an attack to the governe-ment will hit New York City first and supposedly in less than 3 weeks. James we’re fighting for the right

to listen to music again! we just might be able to listen to our favorite songs again!”

Peter ian’t trhat reliable but, but I hope he’s right. “Let Us Listen”

1. 2. 3.

“ Ain't no rules, ain't no

vow, we can do it anyhow: I'n'I will see you through,'Cos everyday we pay the price with a little sacri�ce,Jammin' till the jam is through” Bob Marley

Photo credit: Martin Parr

Photo credit: Martin Parr

It is the year 2017. In 2015, a technology was developed that allowed people to live significantly longer lifespans. As the population began to grow without check, food started to become scarce. In effort to combat this hunger crisis, the world’s governments joined together to pro-duce and supply low-cost, sustainably-sourced meals to the general population. They found a solution in a new food substance, commonly referred to as M.E.A.T. (Meal, Edible, Acquired Taste).As it now stands, M.E.A.T. provides the necessary dietary nutrients for over 95% of the world’s population; only the very richest people in the world can afford to en-joy the delicacies that are the once-traditional foods like Spam, Wonder Bread, eggs, etc. Though these foods are rapidly disappearing, there is no indication that M.E.A.T. is running out. Rather, it seems as though the supplies of M.E.A.T. are increasing by the day.

In unrelated news, a new deadly street drug has taken the world by storm. Known only by its street name, JLST, the drug creates an intensification of every one of its us-ers’ senses, particularly taste. When the effects wear off, the users are left unable to taste anything and many die from starvation (having no drive to eat tasteless food), or from overdosing on the drug. As a result, poorer popula-tions around the world are slowly thinning out as JLST is introduced into the slums.As a result, a resistance movement has begun to form, believing the government to be responsible for the in-troduction of JLST into these neighborhoods. They also believe that the introduction of JLST and the introduc-tion of M.E.A.T. are not so unrelated: that the M.E.A.T. is laced with trace amounts of JLST to disguise the taste, which is necessary because the M.E.A.T. is made from people. Such beliefs are not endorsed by the Coalition Advocating New Nutritional Inventions

Photo credit: Martin Parr

Photo credit: Bill Owens

The following is the last entry in the personal diary of one of the JLST-addicted patients of the St. Lawrence Rehabilitation Center:

April 29, 2017It is day 23 of my treatment here at St. Lawrence, and I think it is finally start-ing to work. The cravings have subsided, and my sense of taste has begun to return. However, I have become overwhelming-ly paranoid from the withdrawal; I began to think that this facility had some sinis-ter secrets - that the nurses were harvest-ing the patients to turn them into ground meat - that the M.E.A.T. was laced with JLST to bring in ever more patients and to mask the taste of human meat. Luckily, Nurse Grundy put a stop to those danger-ous thoughts. Tomorrow I am meeting with the clinic’s board of psychologists for them to determine whether I am final-ly cured. I am to report to Building A-1 at 9:00 AM sharp. Can’t wait, but I will miss my time here...April 27, 2017It has been three weeks since I first came to the St. Lawrence, and I suspect my time here is coming to an end - I have learned far too much about the clinic’s machinations. If you are reading this, you have found the loose floorboard un-derneath my old bed and might suffer the same fate - so to warn you, here is my story:I have always had an addictive personal-ity. This meant opening up my mind to all sorts of possibilities, and that meant trying everything that crossed my path. It was my hobby of-sorts, one that I was

able to support through the fortune that I was born into an upper-class family. Of course, when JLST first came around, I just had to try it. For a week, I was on top of the world. Then, one day, it just didn’t have the same effect on me as it used to. The sensations became less and less intense, until I needed it just to feel normal again. Sounds were muffled, colors were dim, and food lost all its flavor. Dining on even the finest foie gras became a chore, like stuffing my mouth full of soggy card-board.I had finally had enough. I checked my-self into the St. Lawrence Rehabilita-tion Center hoping that they could help me through my withdrawal. As I walked up the front pathway I noticed a slight whirring noise emanating from a large red barn on the far side of the grounds. A large “A-1” was written on the side in white paint.I checked in and was shown to my bed-room by a nurse in a starch-white uniform. I was to share my room with two other men, whom I met that night at dinner. Dinner consisted of a plate of M.E.A.T. sausages. I was thoroughly disappointed, being used to eating actual real food. However, I was surprised to find it tasted better than anything I had eaten in weeks.That night I couldn’t sleep. As I lay there I heard the door being opened. I quickly feigned sleep as one of the nurses entered

and approached the cot to my right. A quick jab of a needle, then she lifted the man out of the cot and carried him out the room. The next morning, when I woke, I saw an unfamiliar man where I expected to see an empty cot. I asked him what had happened to the man before him, to which he replied that he had been here for two months and was surprised I didn’t re-member him.The same thing happened the next night to the man to my left. This time, I got up and followed them. I maintained a safe distance the whole way, following them outside. I watched as the nurse opened the door to the A-1 barn, and placed my neighbor onto a conveyor belt. I heard the sound of bones snapping as I turned my back to return to my room.woke, I saw an unfamiliar man where I expected to see an empty cot. I asked him what had happened to the man before him, to which he replied that he had been here for two months and was surprised I didn’t remember him.The same thing happened the next night to the man to my left. This time, I got up and followed them. I maintained a safe distance the whole way, following them outside. I watched as the nurse opened the door to the A-1 barn, and placed my neighbor onto a conveyor belt. I heard the sound of bones snapping as I turned away to sneak back to my room.

Aloha, Stelle broadcasting, Ciao from Planet Cosmo ivn. The year is B052, the time is 27 hundred and the weather forecast is

slightly purple with a chance of meatballs. With-out further adue folks let’s get right into the break-ing news stories for the day, drum roll please. For starters Flimsy Flohan has checked out of timeout, Chard Nixo has resigned from office as star county treasurer, and Charlie bit me. But the meat of the news today lies in the hands of an occult sector living on the outskirts of town to avoid the Taste Tax. Now, for those of you who just may happen to be listening to this in 2013 the Taste Tax might be new stuff, allow me to explain. You see it all started when a young gup named Gigham Rac-coon checked into his room at the Fancy Hotel. He then proceeded to order room service; he then proceeded to order room service. I said that twice, did you catch that? That was no mistake, because Young Gigham proceeded to order room service until there was nothing left. And then there was no more Fancy Hotel, Raccoon went wen’t from hotel to hotel depleting their services, and then he went to farms. From all this he discovered the strangest craving for taste, he couldn’t be satisfied, oh no. The gup gathered a following of henchmen,

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and disciples the size of old Texas and he raided every house on the Planet. Even though our plan-et is a smooth 100 feet around, this was quite an impressive feat. When the henchmen raided our homes they didn’t want money, or other favors. They wanted none other than YOUR taste buds, yes mam. And they gathered these taste buds and sent them straight to Gigham’s secret lair, a loca-tion still unknown to this day. Someday someone will find it, and it will be like the day we turned Area 51 into a Supersized McDonalds. Anyway the Taste Tax is a tax us law abiding citizens pay in order to be able to taste from the Fancy Pot once a day. I mean, it’s the least we can do to support our government. Back to the point, a cult is refut-ing the taste tax. Their leader goes by the name of Prudence. Unfornately Prudence couldn’t be here today to comment, but he left us with a note, I’ll read as follows: ‘We will not be quiet, we will not be loud.’ Well there you have it folks, join us lat-er on tonight when we will be singing Christmas Carols. Thank you, have a good Good Morning.

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google images

After few sceonds, liquid started to drop little by little. The liquid from the tree was bitter. That was the only waht that she could drink something.

It has been long time that Linda did not drinkthe water and eat food. Three thousand years later, all eadible water was polluted by human beings. So most of the water became waste water and the only some of it remained as drinkable water. This fact affeccts a lot to the plants and other animals. However, rich people who onwed most of the weapons took the all drinkable water and foods. They made a law that only officials can drink water and buy food. They made fake water and food with chemicals , butit was still expensive for Linda. In the early morning, she was thirsty. She didn’t even feel hunger because she didn’t eat for a long time. She woke up in her old bed and went to the kitchen.She immediately grabbed a knife and made holes on a tree.

It was amazing that she could survive untill fifteen. Since it was hard to get any food, most of all new born babies are dead. She lost her parents, sisters and younger brothers. They were all dead. She was the only one left. One day, it was on her way to go to the forest. She had to hunt animals in order to get food. Linda was not allowed hunt animals, but she didn’t have any choice. She heard many people were sentenced to the death penalty be-cause of animal hunting. When she coundln’t hunt animals, she caught insects instead. But, it always tatsted horrible. She heard a baby cring. It was small sound but it was loud enough to hear it She walked inside as fast as possible and found a little baby. She picked up the baby and hugged him. His skin was softer than her. She started to walk to the direction where the baby’s tiny hand was pointing. Once she arrived to the place she realized that the palce was full of water. It seemed very clean. She noticed this place was where rich people hide their water. She put the baby into the wasted the dirt off of him. The soft water smoothly moved in waves It was water that she wanted before but ironically she didn’t want it anymore. She stared at the baby for a few min-utes and realized the baby had disappeared.

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THIRS

T THIRST

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EXTICTION

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< In progress grid/ poster/buttons>

The year is 2030 and all foods that could be considered

the slightest bit unhealthy have been banned in the United

States of America keeping citizens from being able to taste

whatever they want. This includes but is not limited to all

foods that have a fat free option, white grains, salt, pro-

cessed foods, and foods containing unnatural sugars. This

of course means all fast food has been banned along with

prepackaged foods high in sodium that once were sold at

grocery stores. The only dessert allowed at this time is

fresh fruit and the occasional piece of dark chocolate if you

have not broken any of the food rules. This law has re-

cently been enacted by the government and is supposed to

be in our best interest. They say the point of it is so that

our country will no longer have the highest obesity rate in

the world. Past programs such as Myplate (a poor attempt

to alter the food pyramid) and the ban on large sodas had

proved ineffective necessitating that these drastic measures

are taken. In addition to the restrictions of food items it is

required that all Americans perform some kind of physical

activity at least five times a week. To ensure these laws are

not broken, officers are placed at every location that sells

food so that they can inspect what is being sold. Everyone

is forced to attend a monthly weigh in to ensure that they

are not breaking any of the rules associated with food and to

verify if they need to be placed on an even stricter diet. The

punishment for not complying with the government laws is

being placed on an all liquid fruit and vegetable cleanse for a

duration long enough to counteract the crime. The public is

not in favor of these changes one bit, but until they can figure

out a plan they are stuck without their beloved fatty foods.

BUTTER

IS

Why should you eat more butter?

1. Helps boost your

immune system

2. Prevents tooth decay

3. Helps manage weight

4. Lubricates your arteries

and veins

5. Promotes fertility in women

6. Rich in vitamins

Masks have become the government’s solution to all social feuds, discriminations, and image

anxieties in the year 2080. Everyone must wear an identical mask 24 hours a day: whether indoors or outdoors, in public or in private. Cameras have been placed in all areas of the city and within residences to assure this law is not broken and no mask is ever removed. Masks are not even permitted to be removed within the privacy of one’s home, forcing the government to monitor private residences by camera surveillance 24 hours a day. The only time allotted to remove one’s mask is during a 15-minute slot for a shower. Mirrors are not permitted in bathrooms, assuring that no one will ever see himself or herself. Every mask is gray, and manufactured exactly like the next. From the time a person is born, he/she must wear a mask with no eye openings to see, but only an open mouth to breath. Thepunishment for removing a mask, experienced by very few in the law’s history, is described as a gruesome facial scarring; possiblyfollowed by a life sentence in prison. It is felt by authorities that erasing all sight is the only way to solve the issues of humanity. Within the past several years, a handful of secret organizations formed in hopes of reviving our oppressed society of our sight and identities. The government has only been able

to shut down two of these groups, due to the highly secretive ways in which they communicate and plan to rebel against the Mask Act. The Visionaries are the largest and most powerful group of them all. They believe in the free life, which was lived before the mask era. Rumors say they plan to build a large enough rebellion to overpower this law. Many people including my father do not like to recognize such organizations, for he feels it could cause our family trouble if our names become tied in with secret organizations. My mother, on the other hand, was a lover of travel prior to the Act. I could listen to her talk all day about all the wonderful things she’s seen in the world, I only remember small glimpses of. She often tells me stories of far places she’s seen and all the different people she met in her mask free years. I sometimes dream of myself visiting these places, she tells me about colors of flowers and how pink hydrangeas in Paris were the most beautiful flower she’s ever seen. I dream a flower to be soft and possibly delicate, but it upsets me waking up knowing I’ll never truly know what a flower looks like. Often at times I even struggle to remember what a nose or a chin is supposed to look like, I was only 4 when the act was passed. I feel everyday for my brother who never got to see any of this beautifully diverse world, or our mother’s face. I am lucky that I have been alive and at least been provided with the foundations of an imagination so I can dream of all the different people and places I’ll never get to see.

( Meeting tonight in the park.)

(We see.)

Her last breath was sacrificed by the oxygen it took with it.His last breath was too. And hers. And theirs. Lavender Field-swas a lush and pleasant town. Where the children wore slimes

with their dungaress and the adults were peaceful tahn ever. And where the sense of smell is more im-portant than the rest.See, in Lavendar Fields, chil-dren weren’t able to get the sense of smell until they reached the age of eighteen. That’s because, there they believed that although smelling is essential, there are sonsequences that folow. Lavendar Fields has never seen a storm until one day this large man came into town. I’m sure it was for the maor’s sake. He went into the town hall to later exit with a folder of ambigious papers. What could was it? Weeks go by since that business man came to town, but today

soemthing happened. Trucks, trucks, and trucks, and loads of supplies came in from St.Elsewhere. Day by day Lavendar Fields grew into millions of vertival pil-lars. There were multiples of everything. More buldings, more people, more smog. My town was like my optimus prime toy. But the only difference is that my toy didnt kill my mom. This new city is killing all the adults. The pollution, the toxins, the waster, all of it is killing the big people. As the children of Lavendar Fields we must find the big formidable man put an end to this!

Anti-PollutionAssociation

After the third World War, the human race as we knew it quickly began dying off and a new breed of super humans soon began to take their place. The extremely meager numbers of the surviving original breed were forced to leave their homes and move to observation centers, where they had to live in communities of glass houses. Scientists of the new breed came and watched them at all hours of the day.

These people living in the glass houses were robbed of their personal space and of any sense of privacy at all. The glass houses were completely transparent on all surfaces and were soundproofed so that they could never hear anything from the outside world, but the outside could hear everything that went on inside of the houses. The prisoners were not allowed to leave the houses except to go into their highly monitored glass communities to buy supplies and work. they were not allowed to use any technology that connected to the Internet or read any material that could possibly inform them of the world around them. Because their sense of sound was limited

because of the houses, they were forced to live only on the knowledge that they had acquired before they were captured. Doing this allowed the scientists to study them while knowing that their knowledge was limited to that of a certain time.

The revolution is coming though. Many of the captives have been sharing information and plans by posting their logos all over their homes and glass communities. The uprising is coming. Though they do not speak about it out loud, the government knows that they will be rising up in large numbers. Soon.

Designing a visual identity for my story was a particular challenge because it seemed like there were so many ways that it could go. I decided to go for a very graphic, simple approach in the logo, posters, and color palette that could portray the narrative without being overly complicated.

L O V E T H Y

N E I G H B R

W E L C O M E

H M E

Photo by Luca Selva

sticks

&stones

may breakour homes

H M E

L V Ethy

neighbor

I consider these buttons to be the most important element in my story’s entire visual identity because, in the context of the narrative, these buttons would have the most presence in the population’s daily lives. For this reason, I wanted to create visuals that would stick and could get the message across quickly and easily.

As for the design, I love graphics that are rather minimalistic and eye-catching without having to do too much. I tried to match my buttons to these ideas by limiting the color palette and creating designs that are very clean and bold.

I wanted the graphics to be modern with harsh edges to match the society which the people in my story live in.

SHADÉ FLEMMING CRYSTAL HENRYJI YOUNG HONGNICOLE KENDALL RUSSELL KIRKELYSSA KOHLHAGENALEXANDER LARKINSUZIE LEEEMILY LEUNGRACHEL RICHTERDEMETRIO ROTHENHAUSLERKEVIN THOMAS