Signs à la Paris: Meaning In Good Design 


"It was the best of signs, it was the worst of signs?" 

I arrived in Paris on July 6th, the day that its citizens would succumb to the disappointment of losing their bid to host the 2012 Olympic Games. I arrived there two days before the terrorist bombings in London, a place located a mere 213 miles away and close enough to prompt air-raid sirens to sound over the city in a manner reminiscent of the battles of World War II. But with all of the tumult around me, Paris managed to live up to its reputation as a city of the most unique beauty; it is a city of which the French people are proud, and rightly so.
  
Parisians are proud of their culture, their history and their penchant to create and embrace the new and novel in genres of art, fashion, food, architecture and design. Paris is the city of the Louvre, the Cordon Bleu and the Eiffel Tower, the symbol most often associated with the city and once called a “truly tragic lamp post” by Alexandre Dumas’s son. To me, however, it isn’t Dumas’s “lamp post” nor the Avenue des Champs Elysées nor any other one Parisian landmark that can characterize the city as I experienced it. Paris truly has a feel all its own, an atmosphere composed of a medley of styles and materials and accented with the devices that tell us all what everything is and means: signs.
  
A sign in Paris, as in any place, isn’t only a plaque with letters or arrows, but it is a piece of art, placed into the public view and designed to convey a meaning. A sign can designate a road, be a sculpture in a garden or an ad on the sidewalk. What is common between all of these forms of signage is that they tell us something about our surroundings. What is not so common is finding signs that do this in an aesthetically pleasing manner, a deed that has become much more difficult in our age of ‘clipart design.’ What sets Paris apart from all other cities is that I found it difficult not to find a well-designed sign. This fact was a welcome change of pace after I had just spent a few days in the 21st century boomtown of Dubai, a city growing so quickly that it does not yet have a great signage tradition. 

 
 
One of the most evident styles in Paris is art nouveau. My favorite series of signs in Paris appropriated that theme and were positioned at the entrances to the Paris Métro. I had to look twice when I first saw one of the ominous pairs of red-tinted lampposts since they immediately reminded me of the alien spacecraft in the new ‘War of the Worlds’ film that I had seen just before I left the United States. The ironwork on these pieces was impressive and it twisted around in an organic fashion similar to a serpent or an insect. The lettering between the lamps was distinct as well, taking cues from the flowing design of its apparatus and from the work of the German typographer Otto Eckmann (although I’m sure that the French would dispute that cursory observation). 


 
If allusions to the Germanic aesthetic are to be made, then there is no better place to look next than at the Paris branch of the distinguished Goethe Institute. The rough edges and stony look of this sign say something about the institution that it labels. Goethe himself noticed a change in 19th century European thought: he saw it as organic rather than geometric; evolving rather than created; and based on sensibility rather than on an imposed order from above. The lettering on the side of the German Cultural Center in Paris reflects the very beliefs of the man for which it is named. 

 
 
Signs don’t have to bear words on them in order to convey a meaning. Signs don’t even have to be considered ‘signs’ by their designers in order to signify something. Such is the case with these examples. The façade of a building in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower was completely covered with plants of all sorts. Although I can’t be sure of this building’s function, I can guess that its designers decided to use plants to convey a message of green sensibilities and environmentalism. The half-enveloped sculpture of a man making his way out of a stone wall relays a message about this particular man’s life and his significance to the place where he stands in perpetuity. And one of the most mundane objects, a sewer cover, when examined closely enough, reveals a face, which may not signify anything more than its designer’s sense of humor. 


 
I have already stated that it was difficult to find a sign in Paris that was not good-looking, but that does not mean that it was impossible. Although I had arrived in Paris on the day of the announcement that the Parisians had lost their Olympic bid to London, the propaganda for the bid was still on display. It must be said that the logo for the Paris 2012 bid is grotesque and that it deserves to have a scolding finger–mine in this case–wagged at it. The logo was propped on some of Paris’s most beautiful classical buildings, too, making more numerous the design taboos that had been breached. If the Olympic bid were decided on the best logo alone, then Paris surely deserved to lose. (London’s logo, on the other hand, was crisp and clean.) 
 
 
One of the most common examples of fine design was visible when glancing at small storefronts on quiet streets. Solid colors coupled with elegant typography allowed these storefronts to catch my eye where I would otherwise be looking for smiling manhole covers. The punchy, solid burgundy with a cinema-style typeface is appropriate for a store selling film paraphernalia; the subtle black color of the coffee shop reflects and communicates that establishment’s purpose. Design isn’t merely a thoughtless, requisite filler. Good design sets the mood and purpose of a place or thing and provides for an immediate recognition of that mood. 
 


One of the greatest collections of signs in Paris was at the Cimetiere de Montmartre, a cemetery half-placed beneath a highway bridge in the center of the city. At this place are enormous monuments (sometimes two stories-tall) that commemorate the lives of those whose names are engraved into their faces. In this cemetery were many one-seat chapels, many complete with stained-glass windows, which were especially prolific in the Jewish section. Although those were strikingly beautiful, my favorite monument was one that was marked “FIAT!” What does the exclamation point communicate about this dead member of Parisian high society? Does it signify a sense of surprise at his death or a wish to amplify his presence in the graveyard? We may never know the true reason for this mark of surprise or volume, but I can tell you that it is unique and it certainly caught my discerning eye, which is always on the lookout for a good photo opportunity.
  
All of these signs–from the blatant to the hidden–tell us so much about the French culture and help to illustrate the variety of artistic styles that exist today in the city of Paris. Signs help to convey a mood, a message and a meaning to the world immediately around us and they enhance our every day–or not-so-every-day–experiences. You don’t have to go to Paris to see good signs, but you’ll have a much better chance of seeing them if you do. 

Posted: Fri - September 30, 2005 at 12:19 AM          

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