box vox

Steeplechase Jack and The Glasgow Grin

Another thing that Tuesday’s denture-shaped candy package reminded me of, was the scary “Steeplechase Jack” logo used for Coney Island’s (and Ashbury Park’s) “Steeplechase, The Funny Place.”

Supposedly the creation of park owner, George C. Tilyou, these faces are sometimes called “Tillies.”

While Steeplechase’s attractions were slightly more low class and vulgar than the competition, the public was quite anxious to patronize Tilyou’s park. Perhaps his huge celebrated Steeplechase Funny Face grinning frightfully with its forty-four teeth (12 more than normal) exemplified the mood of the park’s attractions. It was grotesque, a diabolical jester that hinted at a promise of irresponsible hilarity visitors hoped to experience within. And they could experience it all by purchasing a combination ticket; 25 attractions for 25 cents.

Coney Island — First Steeplechase, by Jeffrey Stanto

_______________________________________________________________

“I have heard it was copied from the sign in a dentist's office, and has 44 teeth”

ConeyIsland.com Message Boards

_______________________________________________________________

George C. Tilyou’s “Original Tille” (circa 1890): Often referred to as sinister or creepy, this icon nevertheless oversaw the, um, clean, wholesome fun had by thousands of Coney Island visitors from the 1890’s onward. Amusement park patrons who grew up with him admit that Original Tillie scared them, yet they miss him.

A Tale of Two Tillies, Mister Snitch!

What is it about an extra-wide row of evenly spaced teeth that’s so scary? What is it about an unnaturally broad smile seems to signal something false?

As with Lewis Carroll’s Cheshire Cat, this creepy Victorian-era smile singles itself out for consideration. You have to wonder: “Does this forced levity mask cruel intentions?”

Two other characters frequently cited in comparison to Steeplechase Jack are: The Joker and The Man Who Laughs. In both cases, their smiles were unnatural facial expressions inflicted on them during childhood. The joker’s smile was the result of a knife attack, extending the corners of his mouth. Gwynplaine’s smile in “The Man Who Laughes” was due to the disfiguring surgery of the king’s surgeon, refashioning his young face into a permanent smile so that he would “laugh forever at his fool of a father.” Such deliberate mouth modification even has a name: the Glasgow Grin!

(Steeplechase Jack & package design, after the fold...)

Karma, Coincidence & Container Corporation of America

Recently discovered two things:

1. Bob Caruthers’ Flickr set called “Similarities”...

The pairs of images in this “Similarities” set are similar visually in one way or another. They are presented without judgment as to the motives of their creators. The viewers of the pieces can form their own opinion(s) about what they see.

Caruthers goes on to define 5 different motives:

Some are “accidents”: The creator of the similar piece had no knowledge of the original.

Some are “re-contextualized”: Obscure imagery from long forgotten sources was used.

Some are “inspired”: They are either obviously or vaguely similar to one another.

Some are “homages”: In order to pay homage to an existing piece, the original design should be widely known.

Some are “appropriated”: They contain—as the primary image on their piece—the original (and usually, but not always, uncredited) visual source.

I like this separated-at-birth sort of thing and I do something similar here—although, usually when I show a pair of images together on boxvox, it’s because of a shared underlying concept rather than a similar layout.

Caruthers very charitably presents his Similarities “without judgment.” But really, even when we aspire to take the higher (non-judgmental) ground, the question of precedence and originality is still very much on our minds.

Reading over his list of motives, the least problematic (in my view) are the “accidental” similarities. For this explanation to be plausible, however, the similar examples must represent either (A) a pretty obvious idea or (B) a “great minds think alike” situation. Which brings us to my second recent discovery:

2. Container Corporation of America’s 1938 logo —(if the box below the fist in the black & white ad from Fortune Magazine can be considered their logo)— looks an awful lot like our Beach Packaging Design logo, (also used sideways for this blog).

Are the comparisons made here on boxvox odius? Is it karma that I should now have to ask myself whether our logo is just a really obvious idea or one of those a “great minds think alike” situations?

A little from column A and a little from column B...

I like the simple geometry of this kind of isometric perspective, but clearly I’m not the only one to ever notice that a regular hexagon can represent a box (and that two equilateral triangle can represent the inside of an open box). And, like many other package-related companies, our logo is one of those package-containing, pictorial logos. All of this goes (obviously) in column A.

As for column B, since the similarities here are accidental, and we had no prior knowledge of this particular CCA ad from Fortune magazine—and given that CCA was well known for hiring the most genius graphic designers (Paul Rand, Saul Bass, etc.)—I don’t think the coincidence reflects too poorly on us.

The black & white “Unity” ad, above, was by Adolphe Mouron Cassandre. Would I sound too much like Wile E. Coyote, (delusional) super-genius, if I were to suggest that this was a great-minds-think-alike situation?

(Asked and answered, after the fold...)

Charms Packaging

By “charms” I mean: Assorted Charms hard candy from the Charms Candy Company (now part of Tootsie Roll Industries).

After last Fridays post about “Packaging Charms” I thought it would be clever to do a post about “Charms Packaging. ” (Note the shallow symmetry of my thought process!)

Little did I suspect, there were actually a lot of interesting things to discover about Charms candy and its packaging.

Issued during World War II in U.S. combat rations as a supplemental energy food, their colorful outer wrappers were unique among the standard olive drab ration packages.

VictorySeeds.com

The label above-left shows the wrapper design included in ration packages during World War II. The photo top-right is the current Charms packaging. The inset photo (above-right) is a 1947 package from the Korean War.

If Charms candy wrappers were a graphic departure from the usual generic look of ration packaging, how suitable that the one below is shown on a Ration Type-K, Morale Series package—another graphic departure which we featured last May.

Photo via: US Military Forum

Charms candies are still included in U.S. military ration packs, but in recent years the brand has come under a cloud, apparently for failing to deliver on its implied brand promise. A fundamental definition of “charm” is that it’s “something believed to bring good luck.”

How paradoxical that, for many American soldiers today, Charms Candy is believed to bring exactly the opposite. How unlucky for the manufacturer that this idea has become so ingrained in G.I. culture.

Soldiers do not eat Charms candies. They are believed to be very bad luck. As soon as you find them in an MRE you throw them away.

Ehow: The History of Charms Candy Company

(Three more examples, after the fold...)

Jalapeño’s Bites

I bought this at a Mexican deli in Rio Grande, New Jersey: spicy candy powder in an anthropomorphic, jalapeño-shaped tube — Tinajita brand candy, manufactured by Fabrica de Dulces Lovi in Guadalajara. Similar to some plastic fruit-shaped packs we’ve looked at in the past. (See: Frutti di Fruttolo and ReálLemon)

There were three varieties (red, green and yellow) hanging by their stems on a POP display card.

Fabrica de Dulces Lovi in Mexico has released Jalapeo’s Bites, an intriguing powder-like children’s candy, which, presumably, is placed on the tongue like sherbert.

It is stated to be very hot, highlighted by its plastic container, probably polypropylene, which is shaped like a chilli.

It is finished with a plug-in closure that imitates the stem of a chilli and a gravure-printed shrink sleeve provides product information.

It is probable that both the container and the closure are injection moulded. Ten such packs are held on a litho-printed card hanger.

World Design: Fabrica de Dulces Lovi Jalapeo’s Bites
Josh Brooks, October 13, 2008, Packaging News

The shrink sleeves were problematic. I tried to find one that wasn’t too puckered so that it would photograph well, but the UPC is very distorted and of dubious scannability.

(Photos found online of the green variety, after the fold...)

Can Cars: 2 types

On left: this photo of Stephen Hooper’s “Canvertible” car is from Sweet n' Sour’s Flickr Photostream; On right: Sandy Sanderson’s “Buggy”

Following the threads of vehicular packaging (and other beverage can vehicles)... Here are two types of aluminum can car:

1. The Canvertible by NJ-based art car guy, Stephen Hooper (AKA: Hoop). His Canvertible is a Fiat 850 decorated with aluminum cans, and although he has a penchant for gold and silver spray paint, some of the original beverage branding does show through in spots.

Mr. Hooper, who goes by the name Hoop, is an artist who uses cars as canvas, making what he considers a public art form. He refuses to give his age, but when a garbage collector who stopped to gawk at his works guessed 45, he allowed that it was not a bad estimate. He has created dozens of car-based artworks over the last 15 years, sometimes putting the same vehicle through several incarnations.

The consistent threads in his works are imagination, recyclable materials and contact cement. Beyond that, every creation is one of a kind, and usually relates to more traditional artwork he is doing at the time...

...Although he used to work in studios in Manhattan, on 14th Street and Prince Street, Mr. Hooper returned a few years ago to the Clifton house he grew up in when his mother had a stroke and needed care.

His vehicles, unusual in any setting, seem all the more surprising on his prototypical suburban New Jersey street.

Artist Takes the Ordinary For an Extraordinary Spin
By Roberta Zeff
The New York Times, Sunday, October 22, 2000

2. Buggy is a model of a beach buggy made by New Zealand-based Sandy Sanderson from 30 Waikato Beer cans. For Sanderson, the beverage branding is a key feature of his “can cars.”

When I was 40 years old I started to play the electric bass and joined a local band for more than 12 years. This led me to change from model aeroplanes to designing and building electric stringed instruments. It had been my intention to retire from teaching and carry on full time as a luthier.

Unfortunately, I had an accident on the bike that shattered my left wrist. This required reconstructive surgery, 4 plates, 8 screws, and a bone graft off the hip, to fix it. The great news is that I can still ride the bike and do stuff like that. The not so great news is that I have lost the sensitivity, fine control, and strength that was there previously. No more working with woodworking power tools! No more sensitive bass riffs!

While I was off work recovering from the accident I picked up the drawing instruments and started taking a serious look at the Coruba and Cola cans that I had held back from the recycler. I have seen pictures of some very fine model aircraft made from drinks cans but they had the plain aluminum from the inside of the cans on the outside of the model. This defeats the purpose of using the drinks can as far as I am concerned. You want everyone who looks to be able to see instantly what your basic resource was. Celebrate the fact, don't hide it!

from Sanderson’s Can Car website

(Photos of each artist and more of their work, after the fold...)

Trash Tracking & Landfill Packaging

Upper left photo from M.I.T.’s Senseable City Laboratory site; bottom left and right photos by Kevin P. Casey for The New York Times

“... once the product has been used up, and the package is empty, it becomes suddenly visible once more. This time, though, it is trash that must be discarded or recycled. This instant of disposal is the time when people are most aware of packages. It is a negative moment, like the end of a love affair, and what’s left seems to be a horrid waste.”

Thomas Hines, The Total package

The moment of packaging disposal may be a downer for the consumer, but after the garbage and recycling trucks pull away from the curb, those “suddenly visible” packages become invisible once more. What happens next is something that many people wonder about.

Elizabeth Royte, in her book, Garbageland, did the environmental sleuth-work of trying to track down exactly where her family’s garbage came to rest, after it left the curb.

Trash Tracking
Now, in yesterday’s NY Times, I see that researchers have begun using electronic tracking devices attached to individual pieces of trash to learn more about the fate of of what we discard into our municipal waste streams:

Through the project, overseen by M.I.T.’s Senseable City Laboratory, 3,000 common pieces of garbage, mostly from Seattle, are to be tracked through the waste disposal system over the next three months. The researchers will display the routes in real time online and in exhibitions opening at the Architectural League of New York on Thursday and the Seattle Public Library on Saturday...

Brett Stav, a senior planning and development specialist for the Seattle Public Utilities, which collects about 2,100 tons of trash and recyclables a day, said that aside from the help with logistics, he saw “tremendous educational value” in the experiment.

“There is this hidden world of trash, and there are ramifications to the choices that people make,” Mr. Stav said. “People just take their trash and put it on the curb and they forget about it and don’t think about all the time and energy and money put into disposing of it.”

Mireya Navarro
Following Trash and Recyclables on Their Journey
NY Times, September 16, 2009

(Liquid Soap bottle tracking map, landfill packaging song, and more, after the fold...)

Pull-Tabs & Pop Top Rings

1. Collection Container: Went to Reeds Beach last weekend and I noticed this cottage cheese container (upper left) nailed, chest-height, to a post in front of someone’s beach house. “What’s that for"” I wondered and peered into it. Beer can pull-tabs. Strange, since pull-tabs have, for some time, been designed to remain on the can. Here, the pull-tabs were being intentionally removed and saved. I noticed their recycling bag and, sure enough, it was full of beer cans, with the tabs torn off. But for what purpose are these pull-tabs being collected?

2. Pull-Tab Typology (upper right): In 1973 William Rathje’s began treating landfills as archeological digs. His “Garbage Project” used evolutionary changes in pull-tab design as a means of dating disposed object and establishing their “Dates of Deposition.”

The opening chapter of “Rubbish!” describes some of what came out of a hole drilled into the Fresh Kills landfill on Staten Island and is called “Yes, Wonderful Things” after Howard Carter’s answer when Lord George Edward Carnarvon asked him if he could see anything upon first peering into the antechamber of Tutankhamun’s tomb.

So a lot of what is observed in “Rubbish!” is an occasion for surprise and amusement. “Of all food that is thrown away (not just ‘waste’ but also inedible rinds and tops), potato peels account for a mighty 7 percent by weight — the largest single item in the fresh-food repertoire.” Yet it was the variety of detachable pop-top pull tabs that enabled Garbage Project researchers to construct an elaborate typology and to tease out data about beverage consumption even from samples of garbage that contained not a single can.

from the NY Times book review of “Rubbish!: The Archaeology of Garbage” by William L. Rathje and Cullen Murphy

3. Craft: Lower left photo is from PopTopLady’s Flickr Photostream. (She has an Etsy store: here) It may be that the person pulling off and collecting the beer can pull-tabs, was doing so for craft reasons. Inventive crafters have found any number of uses for this particular recyclable resource.

San Francisco-based Escama Studio is another source of pull-tab purses, etc.

Apropos of what actually takes up space in a landfill, I appreciate their attempt to moderate their eco-claims...

We are not silly enough to think that keeping a few pop tabs out of the landfill is going to save the world; but we believe in our hearts that the true power comes from creating beautiful things out of trash. If one person opens their mind just a little tiny bit in the direction that not EVERYTHING needs to be created from scratch just to then be thrown away, a beautiful new bag has brightened the world.

4. Metal Detector Ad (lower right): this image is a detail of student entry in the Lüerzer’s Archive Awards. An ad for Bounty Hunter Metal Detectors (by Diego Contreras, art director & Allie Edwards, copywriter) envisions some of the sort of stuff that a metal detector might help you unearth. (Interesting to note that the pull-tabs, here, represent people.)

(One more image—relating to pull-tabs and the Lüerzer’s Archive Award, after the fold...)

Aerosol String Cans

On left: a flattened can of “Streamer String” I found in my neighborhood; on right: a vintage can of Wham-O “Silly String” available on eBay for $225.

Walking the dog this weekend, I found a crushed can of aerosol string on the street. This is one of those products that would not even be a product, except for the packaging. Can you imagine anyone buying this stuff pre-extruded on a roll? Like Pez candy, it’s all about the delivery method.

Not too great, graphically, although the multi-colored string-lines did catch my eye—(there in the gutter, by the fire hydrant on Van Duzer). With multi-colored type treatments like this, it seems like there’s always gonna be one color that’s too light for good contrast. (Like the “a” in eBay’s logo.) At any rate, it’s not featured here for its graphic design, but as a point of entry.

 Silly String (on the right) was the original aerosol string product. Invented by Leonard A. Fish and Robert P. Cox—(see their patent below)—who assigned the rights to Wham-O in 1972. Streamer String is one of the surviving, imitation brands.

(Silly String TV Commercial, after the fold...)

Greenhead Fly Traps

Like everyone else around here, we’ve outfitted our greenhead fly trap (above) with re-purposed packaging

On the rare occasions that we go away for the weekend, the place we usually go is to the marshlands of south Jersey on the Delaware bay. Reed’s Beach is a nature preserve and a critical stopover for migratory birds en route to arctic breeding grounds. (See Nature.org)

Because it’s a nature preserve, it cannot be developed any further. The houses on stilts and the trailers that were already there can stay, but no new construction is permitted.

For bird watchers this place is some kind of Mecca, and for a few weeks in May while the horseshoe crabs are spawning and the red knots & ruddy turnstones are feeding—(although not so much now as in the past)—the beach is closed to humans.

One regrettable feature of life in Reed’s Beach and similar wetlands communities, are the greenhead flies.

Adult flies mate on the open marsh. Within a few days and without seeking a blood meal, the female lays her first egg mass, consisting of 100 to 200 eggs. To produce additional egg masses, the female needs a blood meal...

Adult female greenheads move from the salt marsh to nearby wooded or open areas along the marsh edge to seek suitable blood sources. There they await and attack wildlife, livestock, and people that venture close enough for them to detect.

Females live for three to four weeks in the uplands before they become too weak to bite. Because of this long life, larger numbers of blood hungry flies build up in areas near salt marshes. The physical removal of large numbers of flies can reduce this buildup and thus decrease the greenhead fly problem locally.

The Greenhead and You
Elton Hansens and Stuart Race, Rutgers University

It was Elton Hansens and Stuart Race (quoted above) who designed the greenhead fly trap that we use. The original plans (below) call for a dark black box, open at the bottom with screen at the top into which a couple of hole with cone shapes guide the flies to the top —(they naturally tend to fly upwards towards-the-light)—where they are invariably imprisoned in packaging.

The original instructions mentions using “transparent shoe boxes” but as a DIY necessity, individuals here will use will just use whatever packaging is at hand: bottles, jars, takeout food containers, etc. One innovation that everyone seems to be onboard with: the neck of a PVC bottle makes a good cone and is easier than fashioning a cone from screening, as the original design stipulated.

(See some more examples, after the fold...)

Packaged Water Towers

The Brooks Catsup bottle water tower in Collinsville, Il.; The Campbells Soup can water tower in Shepparton, Victoria (Australia) from Chris Gregory’s Flickr Photostream; The Old Forester Bourbon bottle water tower in Louisville, KY from Agility Nut’s Flickr Photostream; The Dale Bros. Coffee can water tower in Fresno, CA from Matt (mistergoleta)’s Flickr Photostream; The Hoffman/Pabst bottle water tower (now demolished) in Newark, NJ via Roadside America web site; The Guaranteed Pure Milk Co. milk bottle water tower in Montreal from the Quebec Dairies web site.

Randy Ludacer
Beach Packaging Design

Florida Water

Up until around 10th grade, I used to live in various parts of Florida. I therefore grew up with the story of Ponce De Leon and his futile quest for the Fountain of Youth. So when I saw this bottle of “Florida Water” (on the shelf at my local Rite Aid pharmacy), its references to Spanish explorers & Floridian history seemed vaguely familiar.

As I recall, most of the naturally-occurring water sources that I tasted while living in Florida, tasted like sulfur-water and—(judging by my current, non-youthful appearance)—those waters (apparently) must not have been the fountain of youth. Not that you’re supposed to drink this type of “Florida Water” I don’t think. [1] Although it does have an appetizingly citrus-like smell...

According to the company’s web site, the label was designed “by the famous French Designer, Du Maurier” and introduced to America in 1808.

The French designer they’re referring to, is actually George Du Maurier, French-born British author and cartoonist. Best known, perhaps, for writing Trilby, the novel that introduced the character, Svengali to the world. “Trilby” was the heroine of the story—the one who Svengali [2] hypnotizes and manipulates. The book was so wildly popular during Victorian times that a number of products were named after its heroine. Everything from brands of soap & toothpaste to trilby hats. There is even a town named Trilby in Florida [3]—(Trilby, Florida is a little to the west of Orlando).

Du Maurier’s self-portrait on left as a young man and in a photo a little while later, proving that for Du Maurier—(as with Ponce de Leon & me)—Florida Water turned out to be no fountain of youth.

Aside from Du Maurier’s “Florida Water” label which has been in use since 1808, he was also known to have created the artwork for at least one bottled water that you are actually supposed to drink.

(More pictures, after the jump...)

Roll Out the Ersatz Barrel

Left: a photo from the Stewart’s Beverages website; middle: a photo of Stewart’s sign in Vineland by Debra Jane Seltzer; right: our little brown jug of root beer

Recent high gas prices in the US may be putting the final nail in the coffin of American car culture (not to be confused with kustom kulture). So it was pleasantly nostalgic for us to pull over and have lunch at Stewart’s Old Fashioned Root Beer drive-in with tray service on Route 47 in Vineland, NJ. (Plus it was really hot and leaving two dogs in the car while we went in somewhere was not a good option.)

After root beer floats and a fast food lunch, the Mrs. asked the waitress about getting a larger quantity of root beer to go. While they didn’t have the prepackaged bottles we were expecting, what they did have was interesting. A brown plastic gallon jug, with a wooden texture meant to resemble a barrel. We had some concern whether draft soda from a soda fountain tap would stay carbonated, but it worked okay. (Although the pressure did make the bottom bulge out causing the jug to wobble around in the refrigerator like a Weeble.)

I'm noticing a lot of cross-referential packaging these days—(packages that are about other types of packages) Not only is their gallon jug a modern plastic pack made to resemble a ye old wooden barrel, their glass root beer bottle features an illustration of a glass mug made to resemble a ye old wooden barrel.

(See where the cars park after the jump...)

No-Ad®

During my visit to a Wal-Mart in South Jersey last week (to buy a Snicker’s bar) I also bought this. What’s with the No-Ad (not advertised) brand? It reminded me, at first, of the no-brand thing, but it’s not as if this label is designed to be decorative or unobtrusive in your home. Seems to be more of an ironically-branded generic brand. They don’t spend money on advertising so that they can charge you less.

I like orange and yellow for a suntan/sunscreen product. (When I was a kid, growing up in Florida, I used to use the orange crayon as a way of signifying suntan people.) I don’t love the graphic design, however. I’m thinking maybe they’re saving money there too.

Randy Ludacer
Beach Packaging Design

Alternative Exterminating & Graphics

We’re intrigued by this business on Route 47 in Cape May Courthouse, NJ. A heretofore unsuspected connection between pest control and graphic design? (See my post about Victor mouse traps). Or does the existence of such a business only serve to illustrate the importance of diversification?

Also curious about the name. Why “Alternative?” Alternative lifestyle? Alternative rock? (A secret reference to the rat-related lyric in Smashing Pumpkins’ Bullet with Butterfly Wings?)

Randy Ludacer
Beach Packaging Design

The Alpaca Mouse

Last month, Debby and I discovered a small, mom and pop alpaca farm on Route 47 (south NJ) right next door to a produce stand that we often go to. Tish Carpinelli let us feed her animals out back and, since it was Debby’s birthday, she picked herself out a sweater from the little store, Absolutely Alpaca,  in back of their house. I had to have this handmade, catnip mouse, ostensibly for the cats at home, but really because I just like it. It’s made of a very dense “felt” that Tish somehow fashions from the fleece. I like how it’s so minimal (like a Joseph Beuys cat toy!) and at the same time kind of darkly reminiscent of an owl pellet, as if it might contain an actual mouse (or the remains, thereof). It also kind of calls to mind a “hair ball” which also seems very appropriate for cat toy. Now that I've photographed it, I may let one of those stupid cats play with it. Eventually. Possibly by Christmas time...

Ivins’ Famous Spiced Wafers

Discovered this seasonal, regional cookie item on a visit to South Jersey. Apparently it is a fall tradition around Philadelphia and the greater Delaware Valley area. (See related blog post.)

I admire how different this box is from other items in the same product category—(an Oreo package, for example)—no 3D edible typography here. Just plain old type being flat. Old fashioned design, but a bracing use of only 2 colors. I've always been a sucker for fluorescent orange.

We speculate that this obscure delicacy survives because of regional and seasonal recipes. (Much like Nilla Wafers, and Graham Crackers.) There is a recipe for a pie crust on the side which I am curious to sample.