Yes, you can judge a book by its cover;
—it’s paid my bills and won us awards for years. (Nerds!) Covers have to express and say so much in milliseconds. Clear. Concise. Energized. Colorful (sometimes). But always that pull of “...hey… come over here and open me up…” So what would you do if you saw this on a table or shelf?
The complexity of a book featuring so many Tribes, Nations, cultures, and artists is not relying on the monolith we are all taught and tend to see on many many covers (and I know I am guilty of bending to the will of publishers to use this too). The solo image, the struggling artist, the lone, rugged individual void of communal influence or support—that’s not reality. Everything is in dialogue. Everyone is truly valid in their voice and their people’s sovereignty. When Emma and I were designing our marketing, this use of the grid really pushed back on showing how dynamic, supportive, and truly interrelated all of these works are. Multiplicity adds to strength, even in difference.
The Book Itself
So here's what you'd actually be picking up off that coffee table: a hardcover, 240 page, environmentally friendly, archival acid-free FSC certified, 5 color, 9 x 10 ¾ inch book, with over 100 works spanning more than 80 Tribes and Nations and nearly eleven centuries. That's not a typo—eleven centuries, and a visual lineage older still, from pictographs and petroglyphs to wampum, pottery, and parfleche, all the way to Standing Rock and the work being made right now. Posters, prints, advertisements, photographs, illustrations. It’s published by DelMonico Books, edited by Heidi Brandow (Diné/Kānaka Maoli), and closes with a community conversation among Indigenous designers, teachers, and scholars discussing what Native design is, where it comes from, and where it could be headed. Not a monograph about one voice. A record of many, in dialogue—the same idea the cover's been arguing this whole time.
These interior spreads showcase design in everything from leather, shell, and wampum to posters printed in ink to a beaded pennant for our ancestral teams.
“What matters most: Native American and Indigenous peoples are, not were. The past tense is a weapon, deployed to consign us to museum dioramas. We are here, now—designing, creating, making. The works in this book are evidence.”
What do you think?
Can you tell how excited I am with this cover and the publication? Soon enough it’ll be time to start to get this out to students, educators, and designers to share. As always, if there are collaborations we could explore together, I'd love to hear from you.
Have a great week, and hopefully see you at an event soon!
—Brian