Core77

Individual Pentagram Papers are characterized by a plain black cover with a white-ruled border and understated interior layouts. Such simplicity may be odd coming from one of the world's leading design firms and the actual papers themselves are equally quirky, but if you've ever yearned to have the content of those pages on your shelf, now's your chance. By their own words, The Pentagram Papers are described as idiosyncratic explorations of "curious, entertaining, stimulating, provocative and occasionally controversial points of view that have come to the attention of, or in some cases are actually originated by, Pentagram."

Truer words have rarely been spoken. Some of the Papers, such as the photographs of the stone sculptures of Bomarzo in the North of Italy are simply breathtaking, while others, like the compilation of secret printings from underground French writers during the Nazi occupation are both beautiful and heartbreaking. Other sections, such as a sixteen page spread devoted solely to one man's collection of brushes, simply boggle the mind in the oddity of their fixation. For the purposes of providing structure to this seemingly random collection, the Papers have been grouped into broad categories, including: cultural phenomena, personal passions, collections, and retrospection. Of these topics, retrospection is easily the strongest due in part to the need for a narrative to contextualize observations of the past. Not surprisingly, the collections section is the least coherent, since obsessions are difficult to explain to anyone but the obsessed. So while no single structural thread can be found to unify the whole of The Pentagram Papers, flipping through the book is a bit like wandering through an old curiosity shop ... you never know what you are going to find.

Reviewing a compilation of articles that have been gathered in a way that even the authors acknowledge as haphazard is admittedly difficult. While I never would have guessed that an article on antique slide rules would compel me to bid on a Fuller Calculator through eBay or to try to figure out how I might fit such an antiquity in my admittedly modern New York apartment, I am thankful for the Papers' ability to open my eyes to the sort of beauty that Walker Evans would have seen in everyday things. While not everyone might understand the need for publishing a piece on Australian rural mailboxes or the motel architecture of the Jersey Shore, it's a matter of taste, and the artistic appeal of kitsch will likely remain a matter of debate for as long as time and social structure divide people. As such, The Pentagram Papers provides a mysterious, nostalgic, and occasionally awkward journey through the output of human design, some of it elegant and refined, and some of it downright awful. Though we should be aware of it all, I'm not sure every facet of the papers would normally be highlighted as good design. But I guess that's the point.

The stature of the book is as much a signal of the status of the founders and partners in Pentagram itself. The success and esteem of their professional output provides them with the license to publish their inner thoughts, obsessions, and distractions in the form of papers and notes. If we all had the prestige and the confidence to do just that the world might be a more interesting place. After all, inspiration sometimes comes from the most unexpected sources.