Of Monograms & Logotypes
The Doctor Foundation is an NGO based out of Pune, India, whose core objective is to bring warmth, cheer and a sense of purpose back into the lives of the elderly and infirm in the disadvantaged sections of society.
The Foundation has recently set up a charitable polyclinic and recreational centre in Pune. Apart from subsidised medical treatment and access to multi-specialists whom the underprivileged would otherwise not be able to afford, it provides a number of activities like physiotherapy and wellness classes. It also offers opportunities for members to teach children from economically backward households.
Dr. Bhalla (or simply “Dr. B” to us that know her), the founder, set up this trust after several years of welfare and social work in and around Pune city, and asked us to design an identity for her organisation.
The brief: “We need a monogram!”
And as they say, the client is always right. Mostly.
Monograms are typographic motifs, typically a stylised form of initials of a person or a company. They’ve been around forever and are still trending. Most monograms tend to have a rather old fashioned look to them, a look that Dr. B found very appealing.
She knew exactly what she wanted: a Victorian-style monogram that would spell T-D-F (for The Doctor Foundation), complete with swooshes and swirls, profoundly encased in a crest. Or something along those curves.
Armed with this brief, we fearlessly ran to the World Wide Web, seeking inspiration from the tribe of woven letters. Our warriors, T, D and F, were an interesting looking trio: two angular guardians — T and F — and in contrast, a curvy D in the centre. How difficult could this be anyway?
Our very first set of ideas looked like this:
Dr. B, as you know, was not quite an advocator of minimalism. While we were nowhere close to happy with what we’d come up with, she was persistent about the identity having an old school feel to it. With our slick and techy type, we were fully off track.
Asking the tough questions — Did we really need a monogram?
A few conversations later, we realised we needed to pause and rationalise what we were doing. We had jumped into this in full swing, but maybe a more logical entry would make more sense. Looking at the larger picture, we asked ourselves, was a monogram really the best way to go?
Our thoughts ran this route:
An important aspect of The Doctor Foundation was that it also catered to a section of the society that was primarily literate in the city’s vernacular languages, which, in this case, were Marathi and Hindi. Many people might not know how to read English, let alone make sense of three gracefully entwined letters.
Moreover, it is a legal requirement in several states in India, especially Maharashtra, to display an organisation’s identity in both English and the local language. This meant that our neat monogram would be presented to the world along with a logotype in Devanagari too. Does this, then, become the more recognisable identity of The Doctor Foundation, given its audience? This was something we had not even considered so far!
It was an oh-no! moment.
And then quickly, it was an ah-yes! moment: this reasoning dropped us off at a new approach to designing this identity; clean the slate and begin with a Devanagari logotype.
So… how do you write ‘The Doctor Foundation’ in Devanagari?
Like this: द डॉक्टर फाउंडेशन
Do you believe in love at first sight? Because that’s what happened when we spotted Rajdhani — a handsome typeface by Indian Type Foundry. Clean and legible, with smooth rounded corners giving him that shy smile, he seemed a perfect blend of the old and the new.
Our honeymoon phase was briefly interrupted when it hit us that we still had a client-who-was-always-right-mostly. And she was still expecting a monogram. Taking a deep breath of apprehension, and prepared for rejection, we sent Dr. B a glimpse of our boy-next-door. To our pleasant surprise and utmost relief, it was instant attraction!
But is love ever this easy?
Dr. B was a bit hurt that her logotype was this… plain. “That’s it?!” she said, “No walking sticks pretending to be swords? No rocking chair emblems? Not even a hint of a doodle from the Queen’s bathroom?”
Admittedly, there was something missing. We had arrived at a logotype, but it wasn’t yet an identity.
Identity crisis
Dr. B had a soft corner for floral ornaments. These ornaments — fleurons — were quite a big deal in monogram design; these flowery accessories were the glue that held the identity together. We thought it wouldn’t hurt to give them a chance, and decided to adapt these quaint little elements to suit our logotype.
There were many thoughts and questions we contemplated over that shaped the final look of the identity. Must it have an accompanying symbol of some sort that visually explained what The Doctor Foundation was about? There were a bunch of clichéd graphics that seemed like branding templates for NGOs everywhere. But we liked the directness of the typographic logo and the fact that it looked elegant and friendly.
Secondly, did we want to build a colour palette, or stick to monochrome? We played around with some combinations but felt that colour added another unnecessary layer to the visual.
And a couple of tweaks later, the identity felt complete:
Unlearning and relearning
TDF’s identity needed a different approach to it than any branding we had done before. In most such projects, the vernacular language variant of a logo was usually an afterthought. But here, it was our starting point from which we worked backwards to reach an English variant. Our breakthrough moment was when we realized that we had automatically, and wrongly, assumed that the identity would obviously have to be in English.
This assumption — and subsequent conflict between brand and language — is commonly found in the complex mindset of India’s society: between a product with a sleek English logo and one that is branded in the local language, there is an evident preference for the first. An identity that is more vernacular in style is often disregarded and considered ‘uncool’.
But we had managed to create something that was instantly attractive not only to us designers, but also appealed to a larger audience. It was an identity that was more inclusive in many ways.
“If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his own language, it goes to his heart.” — Nelson Mandela
From a typographic standpoint, this project allowed us to research into the exciting world of Devanagari scripts to a greater extent than we otherwise would have, and rooted in us a deeper appreciation for regional typefaces (Rajdhani, you hunk!) and their creators.
All in all, this was a tremendously enjoyable learning experience. It gave us the rare opportunity to sit with the client and understand her vision, re-evaluate what it was, and slowly weave through changes — both visual and psychological — from our side and hers.
So what did Dr. B say?
‘TDF_Logo_TheFinal.pdf’: Select. Attach. Send.
There was a slight tension in the air as we waited for Dr. B’s reaction. And exactly 3 minutes later, the phone rang. We jumped, looked at it warily for a moment, and then picked it up.
Dr. B squealed in delight: “I love it! I love those squiggles! I told you the squiggles will work!”
And as they say, the client is always right. Mostly.