Rebranding the universe: “The Meatball” vs. “The Worm”
I don’t fancy huge brandmanuals. They tend to be rigid and insufficient in all its possible usages as they — especially in companies who always look for a new ways of doing things — can never predict all the future needs anyway. Then there is those people who are supposed to use them often don’t see any value in them, which do not understand the content inside them. Yet sometimes, there are well executed exceptions we can learn from even after decades.
4 decades and 1 year, to be precise.
Once upon a time…
there was a National Advisory Committee on Aeronautics (NACA) and it metamorphosed into an agency that would advance both space and aeronautics: the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA). After a NASA Lewis Research Center illustrator’s design was chosen for the new agency’s official seal at 1959, the head of the Lewis’ Research Reports Division, James Modarelli, was asked to design a logo that could be used for less formal purposes.
By simplifying the seal, leaving only the white stars (representing space), an orbiting spacecraft on a blue sphere (representing planet) with a red airfoil (representing aeronautics) and adding white N-A-S-A lettering, the well-known insignia was created. The original seal was supposed to be used for more formal traditional and ceremonial events such as award presentations and press conferences and never in one instance with the logo.
“I just don’t feel we are getting our money’s worth!”
“If the meatball shows us what made NASA so thrilling — rockets, planets, and sexy-sounding hypersonic stuff, the worm simply suggests it, and does so with such skill that it’s become the design purists’ favorite.” Alice Rawsthorn (design critic), ‘The Art Of The Seal’
In May 1974, the United States Government started the Federal Design Improvement Program and with it came a request to re-brand NASA. The winning proposal originated from Richard Danne and Bruce Blackburn, founders of New York design studio Danne & Blackburn and it originally wasn‘t met with much love in particular. This exchange occurred during the design presentation.
Fletcher: This color, red, it doesn’t make much sense to me.”
Low: “What would be better?”
Fletcher: “Blue makes more sense… Space is blue.”
Low: “No Dr. Fletcher, Space is black!
Fletcher: “And I’m simply not comfortable with those letters, something is missing.”
Low: “Well yes, the cross stroke is gone from the letter A.”
Fletcher: “Yes, and that bothers me.”
Low: “Why?”
Fletcher: (long pause) “I just don’t feel we are getting our money’s worth!”
Still, the new program was approved and implemented. The designers created a coordinated, comprehensive design program (they strongly advocated that it‘s not just another ornamental badge to be stuck on a multitude of different products by countless personnel and sub-contractors, but a design document made to stand against ages). It outlined how the logotype and the rest of the graphics system should be implemented on everything from spaceships to stationery.
Over the next 6 months, D&B produced the basic Graphic Standards Manual, about 25 pages long. The Manual continued to evolve over the next decade and in the end it would reach about 90 pages and cover every aspect of NASA: Ground vehicles, all aircraft, the space shuttle, signing, uniform patches, publications of every kind, office forms, public service film titles, space vehicles, and satellite markings. At the first year of the Presidential Design Awards at 1984, it won “Award of Design Excellence”. It was admired for it aggressive “can do” approach and bold futuristic promise. The logo’s stark clarity suggested that whatever NASA would do going forward, its history would speak for itself.
“The meatball was complicated, hard to reproduce, and laden with “Buck Rogers” imagery. Clearly it was born out of the classic airman syndrome where hype and fantasy dominated over logic and reality. Our Logotype was quite the opposite: it was clean, progressive, could be read from a mile away, and was easy to use in all mediums.” Richard Danne, one of the creators of the new Manual
Yet there was still some inner resistance. There were two main reasons.
Presentation to the Centers
The Agency made the decision to alert the various Centers to the new Program by sending Executive stationery to each Center Director (NASA was a coalition of many different Agencies that had been operating independently for decades. These Centers enjoyed their freedom and their provincial specialties. At the time of the redesign, there was resistance to almost anything emitting from the Headquarters.) That stationery displayed the new NASA Logotype and it would be the first time they were informed of the graphics program and image change. To say that the Centers weren’t pleased by these letterhead “gifts” would be an understatement. (The design studio wasn’t keen on introducing the whole Program in such a shallow and casual way. For one thing, the letterhead couldn’t explain how thorough and solid the new Graphic System was. The Headquarters realized they had made a mistake. The resulting solution was that PR representative from the Headquarters and one of the designers travelled around the country and gave the full design presentation over and over again.) Some people understood the importance of Program, but others (especially the older employees) were still offended. They coined the term “Worm” for the new logo and undermined the redesign effort by deliberately delaying the full implementation.
Wrong timing
NASA’s most famous achievements happened during the sixties (with meatball). The next few decades found NASA, at least in the public imagination, limiting its own ambitions. From the heady days of the “giant leap for mankind” came Skylab and with it came the shuttle program, followed by the Challenger disaster. By the early 1990s, NASA was in need of yet another public image overhaul. It was also in need of an internal morale boost. It started, yet again, with its logo.
The king is dead, long live the (former) king
In 1992, the new Administrator Dan Goldin was touring the Centers and his plane was landed at Ames Research Center which had a large logo on the roof of a building. A couple of older staffers touring with him made some disparaging remarks about the “worm” and Golden asked: “Can I change that?” Naturally they answered: “Of course you can.” So he did. He brought the meatball back from retirement to boost the morale of NASA’s employees by invoking the memories of the one-giant-leap-for-mankind glory days of Apollo and showing that “the magic is back at NASA.”
And so today NASA has an old-new logo that celebrates its past instead of promising the future.
— by Adriána Rybárová our über-designer
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