introduction gone but not forgotten: the thankless life of a rejected logo
Like it or not, logos are everywhere. In addition to the spine of this book, there’s probably one emblazoned on your watch, sleeve, spectacles, shoes and coffee cup. Logos adorn almost every item in our vicinity, screaming their message, clamouring for attention. Logos are signs, small graphic identifiers; things that help differentiate a product or service from its competitors. Yet over time, their meaning has transcended mere differentiation. Like personal signatures, logos are unique statements of their origins. They give away our background, our interests, our vanity and vulnerabilities. They mock our lifestyles, tell our income, betray our sociopolitical point of view. And still they’re so much more. Logos hoard our memories, passions and reputations. Made familiar with time, we come to trust and befriend them. Then, like mates, we give them nicknames (the ‘Swoosh’, ‘ Worm’ or ‘Piper’). In naming a logo, we infuse it with meaning, it helps classify and define who we are. In short, it helps us be. Then one day, they desert us. They rust, fade from billboards, are replaced by new italicised upgrades.
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