Here’s a good new book if you like receiving creative wisdom via readable anecdotes and thought provoking analogies (as opposed to one of those rather more American ‘the six rules of’ style tick lists). If only I could retain all the wisdom in books like this. I would be a much better practitioner.

I have to admit I typically read them with a magpie eye, pinching the nice shiny turns of phrase and examples that I can add to my own quiver of ammunition. This book has a great deal of shiny stuff to offer. Dave Trott is obviously something of an advertising legend, but it’s quite reassuring to see that he faces all the same communication challenges as we mere mortals.

The book covers a range of topics (one might describe it as pointed wool gathering) but I loved his general observations on the fact consumers, by and by, just don’t care. They are oblivious to advertising much of the time and even if aware, not really that interested.

He talks about how while we scrutinise creative ‘under the jeweller’s eyeglass’…‘We treat consumers (as if they were) trained to notice every detail of an ad. The brand personality, the subtle messaging, the ironic subtext, the typeface, the style of animation, the nuances of the humour, the relevance of the music, the casting, the lighting, the editing. When in fact they aren’t even looking. They don’t care and they don’t want to care…The question we should be asking isn’t is it right? The question is, will anyone even notice it?’

In our design work we couple two words – noticed and chosen. If you can’t see it you can’t select it. But once noticed, packaging has to work in the blink of an eye to tell you who and what it is and why today you want it, in a sea of choice, with your toddler having a meltdown. Beyond getting noticed, chosen happens in nano seconds and yet packaging is also researched under the jeweller’s eyeglass, though most agree it can be a bit of nonsense.

One thing Dave Trott talks to is that no matter what message we think we are putting out, we have no real idea what might resonate or why. I didn’t buy his book because he is a known authority. I bought it because I remember a photograph of him stood under a tree for Creative Review about 15 years ago. He looked like a nice bloke. Probably said something in the interview I liked but have long forgotten. And he has a name I think sounds trustworthy. So that’s why I bought a copy. Because people are random. It might not even have been him in that photo!

The trains might often get delayed but one thing you can rely on with the British transport system is a regular turnover of identity and graphic design, much of it wonderful. Creative Review featured a set of fabulous mini identities designed by Lloyd Northover for Railtrack’s major stations in the nineties. Above is one for Paddington featuring a witty nod to that station’s architecture. Below are Charing Cross and London Bridge (with its view across the Thames)…

With successive companies managing the rail system it seems that these designs (which have always been something of a grace note on a bigger identity project) are now falling into disuse. The Beauty of Transport blog suggests that when they turn up as ephemera in auctions years from now they will be collector’s classics. (Which makes me wonder, who are the bigger nerds – train spotters or design junkies?)

What I love about the designs (apart from their elegant wit) is their existence in the first place. There was no burning need for them, but people thought them sufficiently worthwhile to invest time and money nevertheless. I find this heartening as it suggests not everything has to be about the bottom line.

Visiting the London Transport Museum a while back I snapped this train livery, wondering why such attractive craftsmanship seems beyond our reach these days. Why do all the new rail companies have such cheap looking logos and application? Are we just lazy? The Lloyd Northover designs prove that the old spirit of making a bloody effort is still alive and kicking. One hopes that whoever follows next in the ownership and rebranding of our railways will open up yet more opportunities for design to follow in this grand tradition. You might call it ‘design for design’s sake’. But if it gladdens the heart and pleases the eye, why should this be a criticism?

The poet and philosopher Samuel Taylor Coleridge suggested that if a writer could infuse a ‘human interest and a semblance of truth’ into a fictitious tale, the reader would suspend judgment of the story’s implausibility. He called it ‘a willing suspension of disbelief’ and Bonne Maman proves his theory beautifully. We happily embrace the conceit that this jam is lovingly prepared by a grandmother at home from fruit she’s picked freshly in her garden. And there’s no question it tastes sweeter for it.

In the case of Bonne Maman, the ‘semblance of truth’ comes from the adoption of two design ingredients that signify homemade: the handwritten label and gingham cloth. Before lids were commonplace, gingham was used to cover and protect the waxed paper that would seal homemade jams. Consequently, its distinctive pattern has etched a deep association with homemade into our minds.

Bonne Maman’s use of the conventional jam codes demonstrate that it is possible to take something generic and make it your own. The brand has simply borrowed the elements and their associations then put them in a different context – in this case taken them from the pantry to the supermarket shelf.

Bonne Maman also illustrates the importance of exercising restraint. There must have been a temptation to add to the label, but it’s the simplicity and the perfect rendering of the type that make the idea easy to swallow. It would be negligent not to mention the faceted jar which elevates the brand without breaking the spell.

The great irony is that there’s now a whole host of jam makers who will only use Bonne Maman’s jars for their homemade mixture. A design so compelling it’s turned a fantasy into a reality.

By James Joice, client director, jkr

Paul Morley was on the box last night discussing the once so shocking 1913 ballet, The Rite of Spring. Have we become so jaded that nothing shocks us now, he wondered? Have we actually become nostalgic for the power of culture to shock?

Also on TV last night was a documentary about the photographer Erwin Blumenfeld, The Man Who Shot Beautiful Women. It’s well worth a look on iPlayer. Blumenfeld’s creative imagination and ability to push things was staggering. These images (he was in his imperial period between the forties and late fifties) are unbelievably contemporary. Indeed, one can see so many later photographers, from Guy Bourdin to Nick Knight, tumbling out of what he started. Below is his classic Vogue cover and a more recent ‘interpretation’ by Chanel. They are avant-garde, but they are also timeless images.

Where does this ability to create freshly minted classics lie? Perhaps with having a point in the first place. Blumenfeld idolised women and much of his work reached out to try and capture a kind of idealised and enigmatic beauty. As one commentator noted, what makes these pictures so timeless is that the images are of beauty and so are as beautiful today as they were back then. The use of white space is stunning, though most magazines today would ruin the simplicity with cover blurb. More commerce, less art.

So, returning to the power to shock in culture and design. These images were once shocking and are still amazingly fresh. But they transcend style (he referred to art directors, who provided his bread and butter, as ‘arse directors’) because they reach for something higher. They defy time because they began with a vision and a point. Bracing criteria for our own creative endeavours as we face into Monday morning…

A while ago I stumbled across a rant against pink. It was written by a mother who felt she was losing the battle against the tides of rosy cuteness bombarding her daughter. Turns out it was not always so. In the good old days, pink was for boys and blue was for girls. A quick glance at popular culture of the time evidences that blue was indeed once the visual shorthand for female innocence, beauty or virtue.

I was reminded of this in a recent workshop, when the subject of colour psychology came up. I’m referring of course to the ‘science’ (I use the term loosely) of decoding the associations and emotions that we instinctively attach to particular colours. So, yellow is warm, happy and cheery; red suggests excitement, ambition and youth and blue denotes dependability, quality and trust.

Colour psychology has been used by brands and corporations for decades to communicate something about the service or product on offer in an implicit and subconscious way. But there’s a real danger with taking colour theory at face value. For a start, the way we all make decisions about brands is much more complex than one based entirely on colour (context and culture play big roles for instance). More crucially, the more a brand adopts the rules of a category, by definition the less distinctive it becomes. So in theory, blue says all the right things about you if you’re a technology brand, but it says all the right things about every other technology brand too. Which is why situations like this are played out in every category from technology to antiperspirant:

Braver brands acknowledge the colour codes of their category and reject them – what they lose in implicit associations they gain in brand distinctiveness. What, for instance, does a synthetic, bright ‘value’ yellow, used without any depth or finesse, have to do with luxury? Absolutely nothing, which is why it’s so brilliant.

So one way of building a unique brand identity is to recognise broad cultural associations, but reject them in favour of building brand associations that only you can own. Or, if you’re a certain toy with implausible curves and a penchant for pink, change those cultural associations wholesale (blue is so 1940s) and own them entirely.

By Katie Ewer, strategic planner, jkr Singapore

This is a map of the internet, as created by Barrett Lyon and hung in MOMA. It’s really about ‘making visual representations of metaphysical spaces’. The accompanying sign gave me pause for thought: ‘(this) is one step in being able to generate movies of the internet’s activity.’

Which sparked a possibly obvious but mad thought: is the internet the first human invention that has developed beyond our ability to map, to see, to put in a box? It exists but we cannot yet ‘capture it on film’. That’s pretty heavy – a bit like how we’ve created Gods in ancient cultures yet nobody knows for sure what they actually look like.

Anyway, projects such as this are part of a wider trend to make the invisible visible. It ties to information graphics having such a huge resurgence and the strengthening relationship between science, art and design. It is also pertinent to humble branding; a way to make vague promises of corporate responsibility for example, into graspable and beautiful images (or visual equities).

It’s just a matter of finding a kindred corporate spirit who wants to visualise their soul and infrastructure – which might be more of a challenge than mapping the internet.

This month sees the launch of a global packaging refresh for Laphroaig, designed by jkr.

The redesign for the Islay single malt whisky extends across the entire portfolio from the brand’s popular malts to its more premium editions. Designed to reflect the quality of the products and the brand’s rich history, the new packaging strives to make it easier for consumers to identify their preferred expression.

Michael Cockram, senior global marketing director for Beam Inc., said: ‘Laphroaig continues to be the world’s No.1 Islay malt whisky. Our decision to refresh the brand’s packaging has been taken with a great deal of care, given that the brand’s distinctive look has been so successful for many years.’

Daniela Nunzi-Mihranian, creative director, jkr continued: ‘Laphroaig has a fantastic brand essence and the redesign provided the opportunity to unleash it. By refining the equities that make Laphroaig distinctive, we were able to bring harmony to the portfolio. This has improved navigation for consumers while delivering a more contemporary feel.’

‘We believe the new look creates a modern evolution for the brand, reinvigorating the original design while educating consumers on the brand’s unique taste experience’ Cockram continued.

The new packaging was designed with feedback from the Friends of Laphroaig community. ‘After listening to consumer feedback, we believe this redesign will bring greater visibility and appeal, providing a more defined brand personality that resonates with our fans.’

Look out for the new bottles launching shortly in the US, UK, Germany, Sweden, Australia and Japan.

Have you come across Herself magazine yet? It’s an all illustrated high-end affair: a pretty impressive labour of love, generally saying something about the design times we live in, though I’m not sure what exactly. Perhaps it’s something to do with us appreciating the hand-made and the joy of print in an increasingly synthetic and online world? Or maybe it’s something about us appreciating a single creative vision taken to extreme lengths rather than a hotchpotch magpie approach?

While it has an editor, Lula, she might be an invention (as Dazed & Confused attempted to find out). Perhaps she is invented because there isn’t one illustrator but a team working to a house style? So it’s not really a single vision, but a collective one? How post modern! Anyway, it’s well worth a look.

But what really caught my eye was the advertising – all reworked in the illustrative style. As this puts a uniform style over the various brands’ art direction, it’s interesting to see which are distinctive enough to still ‘break out’ and which look interchangeable.

For me, the current monochrome styling from Louis Vuitton is going to pop whatever the style. A few of the others look hilariously interchangeable. Gucci however, is still very distinctive, even if you remove the logo. Testament to a pretty recognisable style of frock, pose and general vibe perhaps?

The strongest branding doesn’t need a logo and can survive being reworked in a uniform style. It’s an interesting test of equities…

After years of closures and mega-mergers, the wheel has finally turned in the beer industry and new breweries are bursting forth like daffodils in spring. Encouraged by tax breaks for small producers and growing consumer interest in all things foodie,  literally thousands of new craft beers now compete alongside the famous names in local bars and restaurants.

But with so many brews competing for attention, quality of branding is already separating the winners from the losers in the race for space.

After a relatively conventional start, the folks at Camden Town Brewery clearly woke up to the potential for design to be a game-changer in their business. Farewell to conservative colours and traditional branding. Welcome to eye-catching flat colours and an eclectic mix of typography to craft an achingly trendy look.

Although this bold, retro-progressive style is fairly familiar territory in the American craft beer scene, it remains pretty revolutionary in Britain, providing an alluring charisma to the brand.

And unlike most of the established beers on the market – which generally operate with a hero product – Camden neatly accommodate their brewer’s desire to offer a range of flavour-first beers by helpfully making the descriptor the dominant feature. Cleverly abbreviated and emphasised so that the bar call remains ‘Camden Pale’, ‘Camden Wheat’ etc.

The net effect is to make Camden’s smart new labels not only live up to the delicious beers they represent, but be more helpful to the drinker at the same time.

Great brewing skills are clearly fundamental in this frothy category, but as our Champions of Design demonstrate time and again, it takes clever branding to produce sustainable growth.

By Andrew Knowles, chairman, jkr

We bought a new cover for our deckchair last week (rock ‘n’ roll). It turned up with these on-brand striped pieces of rock (the company was called Deckchair Stripes). What a nice little surprise. Witty and appropriate.

We’ve been doing some training recently where one of the key thoughts is: ‘Don’t go into a room or conversation asking what you are going to get. You will actually be in a far better place if you ask yourself what you can give.’ I think in its own small way, this is a neat design example of that.

Why is it often the case that such nice touches come from smaller brands? Even with tight margins, is it really beyond the pale to expect a bit of ‘surprise and delight’ from all kinds of sized brands? It’s the small things that can make a big difference. I was told last year about a lady who bought a new VW Beetle and was dismayed to learn it had not come with the little vase and false flower. It spoilt the whole feel good moment of taking delivery of a new car for her. All those thousands of pounds spent undermined by forgetting something that costs pence.

I guess the point is with a little thought, design can deliver a priceless engagement very cheaply. But conversely, for a ha’peth of tar the ship can be spoilt.