Berlin, Germany

100 years ago today, “SOS” became effective as the worldwide standard for the International Morse code distress signal (· · · — — — · · ·) when it was included in the second International Radiotelegraphic Convention (which was signed on November 3, 1906, and took effect on July 1, 1908). This distress signal was first adopted by the German government in radio regulations effective April 1, 1905, and SOS remained the maritime distress signal until 1999, when it was replaced by the Global Maritime Distress and Safety System.

From the beginning, the SOS distress signal has actually consisted of a continuous sequence of three-dits/three-dahs/three-dits, all run together without letter spacing. In International Morse Code, three dits form the letter S, and three dahs make the letter O, so “SOS” became an easy way to remember the correct order of the dits and dashes. In popular usage, SOS became associated with phrases such as “Save Our Ship” or “Save Our Souls,” though by some accounts, “these phrases were a later development, most likely used to help remember the correct letters (something known as a backronym).”

Hmmm… backronym.

Los Angeles, California

“Speed, style and grace—these epitomize the Golden Age of travel in its simplest form. The 1920’s and 1930’s ushered in an unprecedented era of travel to exotic and romantic destinations. And nowhere was this more clearly expressed than in the travel posters of that time. The Los Angeles Public Library’s collection of travel posters perfectly captures this era, and with this exhibition, the Library shares its bounty with the public for the first time.”

“Among the highlights are two posters issued for the 1936 Munich Olympics; steamship posters for the NYK Lines, the Orient Lines, and the Grace Lines; and outstanding airline posters for Air France and Pan American. Most of the posters share an Art Deco sensibility; however, there are two wonderful examples of Futurist design. All the posters capture the essence of this era in a way that no other medium can…”

View the collection of travel posters here. Along the same vein, check out my earlier post re: Luggage Labels here.

Winnipeg, Canada

This painting by Charles William Jefferys (1869-1951) depicts the The Battle of Seven Oaks (known to the Métis as la Victoire de la Grenouillière, or the Victory of Frog Plain) that took place here in the Red River Colony (modern-day Winnipeg) on June 19, 1816 during the long dispute between the Hudson’s Bay Company and the North West Company, rival fur-trading companies in western Canada. The fight was triggered by a food shortage (an edict prohibiting the export of food called the Pemmican Proclamation had been issued by the Hudson’s Bay Company—this was not recognized by the local Métis, who also did not acknowledge HBC’s authority of the Red River Settlement). The Pemmican Proclamation was a blow to both the Métis and North West Company, who accused the HBC of unfairly monopolizing the fur trade with this action.

The battle erupted when a band of Métis, led by Cuthbert Grant, seized a supply of Hudson’s Bay Company pemmican (that was originally stolen from the Métis) and were travelling to a meeting with traders of the North West Company to whom they intended to sell it. They were met south of Fort Douglas along the Red River at a location called Seven Oaks by a group of HBC men and settlers—a heated argument eroded into a gunfight. Though well-supplied with hubris, the HBC men did not stand a chance against the Métis, who were skilled sharpshooters and outnumbered them by nearly three to one. The Métis killed 22 (of 24) on the HBC side, including the local Governor, while they themselves suffered only one casualty. The Métis were later exonerated by a Royal Commissioner appointed to investigate the incident. Grant went on to became an important figure in the Hudson’s Bay Company after its eventual merger with the North West Company.

(It seems clear that this incident was triggered the attempt at unfair monopolization — when “enterprising” goes too far)…

San Francisco, California

From the web zone of Joshua Heineman…“I’m breathing new life into the past using old digitized photographs from the New York Public Library. I’ve spent hours rekindling these moments, & they will not be the last… (it’s like the past has rediscovered a dimension!)” See more here.

Reaching for the Out of Reach 12: Photographer 18 stories above Fifth Avenue, New York City, 1906.

(Thanks, Adrian).

Winnipeg, Canada

“She’s a virgin; she’s a whore. She’s a sinner; she’s a saint. Explore the most beautiful, most repulsive city in the world….” So reads the introductory header of the website Love & Hate Winnipeg by designer/photographer Bryan Scott.

For over 30 years I’ve had the pleasure of working in Winnipeg’s historic Exchange District (Circle spent the first 17 years on Albert Street, then moved to our current location in the Oddfellow Building on Princess Street 15 years ago)—the Exchange District looms large through Bryan’s remarkable lens.

Images © Bryan Scott: Winnipeg’s Old Market Square; Del’s Electric on Princess (two buildings over from us); [not] the ‘Toronto City Police Station’ across McDermot Avenue from our office (the signage is a remnant from movie sets—understandably, the Exchange District is a popular destination for film production).

From a great collection of design and architecture book covers compiled by Joe Kral on flickr here (thanks Jon Whipple)… many of which we also have in our library at Circle.

Here’s a great use for old rotary telephones… love those legs.

(source unknown—thanks Betty Jackson)

Zürich, Switzerland

Born on this day in 1928 near Interlaken, Switzerland, the extraordinary type designer Adrian Frutiger is one of the predominant figures in twentieth century European design. His career has taken him to many countries, and his work has touched designers around the world, inspiring generations of newcomers since the 1950s. Read a Linotype tribute to Frutiger’s life’s work and view the typefaces he gave birth to here.

Winnipeg, Canada

I’m obviously not the only one who enjoys Russian posters… and though I’m drawn to the stark pictorial modernism many of these works exemplified, I also relate to them on a historical level (my father was born in Russia in 1920 amidst the turmoil of the Bolshevik revolution). El Lissitzky is one of my favorite Constructivists (I posted about a poster of his in my collection for which I found some interesting background last month). See more Soviet-era and Russian posters here, and here.

Images: ‘Help!’ by was designed by Dmitri Stakhievich Moor (aka Orlov, 1883-1946) during the drought and famine of 1921 (this dramatic poster has graced our washroom at Circle for nearly two decades); ‘Freed Woman! Build Socialism!’ was designed in 1926 by Adolf Strakhov (1896-1979).

From H&FJ…

“Though it feels like a modern appendix to our ancient alphabet, the ampersand is considerably older than many of the letters that we use today. By the time the letter W entered the Latin alphabet in the seventh century, ampersands had enjoyed six hundred years of continuous use; one appears in Pompeiian graffiti, establishing the symbol at least as far back as A.D. 79. One tidy historical account credits Marcus Tullius Tiro, Cicero’s secretary, with the invention of the ampersand, and while this is likely a simplified retelling, it’s certainly true that Tiro was a tireless user of scribal abbreviations. One surviving construction of the ampersand bears his name, and keen typophiles can occasionally find the ‘Tironian and’ out in the world today.”

“As both its function and form suggest, the ampersand is a written contraction of “et,” the Latin word for “and.” Its shape has evolved continuously since its introduction, and while some ampersands are still manifestly e-t ligatures, others merely hint at this origin, sometimes in very oblique ways. The many forms that a font’s ampersand can follow are generally informed by its historical context, the whims of its designer, and the demands of the type family that contains it: (see a tour of some ampersands and the thinking behind them, along with an explanation of the storied history of the word “ampersand” itself on the Hoefler & Frere-Jones www.typography.com site here).

“As for the word “ampersand,” folk etymologies abound. The likeliest account, offered by the OED, is explained by early alphabet primers in which the symbol was listed after X, Y, Z as “&: per se, and.” Meaning “&: in itself, ‘and’”, and inevitably pronounced as “and per se and,” it’s a quick corruption to “ampersand,” and the rest is history. Though I do like one competing explanation offered by a retired signpainter I once met, who insisted that the symbol got its name from its inventor, and was henceforth known to the trade as Amper’s And. This Mr. Amper has never surfaced, nor have any of his contemporaries who lent their names to competing models; I would have liked to see Quick’s And, on which this tale is surely built.”—JH