Logos—Pharmaceuticals

OK. Here we go. I told myself I wasn’t going to go after any more dry logos. But here it is. I have to say something.

About twenty years ago, I caught a small freelance assignment to do a logo for a chiropractor. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted, but he also knew what he did not want: anything depicting a spine or even anything anatomical in appearance.

I remember part of his practice had to do with holistic approaches to his clients’ health—treating the whole person. Therefore, after a couple of meetings, it was decided I was to do a generic logo, a depiction of an awakening, a sort of “celebration of life”, a person “realizing his potential”. No faces, no profiles, no real “silhouettes”. Just a “feeling”.

Wow. How the…

This kind of thinking, this all-inclusive, worldly, enlightened conscience bearing is practically a non-goal for one to design a symbol.

I eventually came up with a design he liked: a rather calligraphic representation of a figure leaping through a cloud-like atmosphere with arms raised in joy. The Neulasta logo above is vaguely similar in feel.

What do these logos have? What do they do? How effective are they? None of those is considered a factor here. This collection you see above, there is no practicality to them. Unlike a couple of the law logos from my last column (the scales of justice or stable architecture form), there is no mortar and pestle. Nothing that banal. Thank you for that.

No, this is the most introverted bunch of logos going. They’re so introverted, they’re afraid to say anything. They’re all alike in their anonymity. Nothing in their designs that’s close to concrete. No personality. No flavor. Nothing to remotely offend.

I could say things like, “That contrived letterform made into a key in Keytruda is a bad design.” Or that the extended crossbar in the letter “A” in Tresiba does nothing to distinguish the word as a design. Or that the triangular configuration of symbols in the Cosentyx logo looks like it’s trying to be something, but misses. Or that the sun-like green symbol in the Trulicity design has no anchor—why is it located right there?—and why is it green?

I’ll venture a guess at each of the above: the designers were handcuffed in their assignments to come up with these solutions, similar to my experience.

I will say one final thing. The consumer names for these prescription drugs are a blessing, because nobody can pronounce the real names.

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