In the nineteenth century Théophile Gautier (1811-1872) expressed his contempt for the utilitarian in art in such utterances as: “Nothing is truly beautiful except that which can serve for nothing… Whatever is useful is ugly!”1 This was “art for art’s sake.” And when Adolf Loos, the same man who in 1908 wrote “Ornament and Crime,” commented: “Art must be stripped of practical goals/‘2 he was echoing the convictions of a great many artists and art lovers. The quandary still exists today. Is it any easier to categorize the design of a Miró poster than it is to categorize a printer’s device by Hans Holbein, the magnificent medals by Pisanello, an elegant magazine cover by Bonnard?

Attempts to reconcile the formal and practical were made at various times in the early part of this century (circa 1921-30) by, for example, the Russian Constructivists, dedicated to a program of good design for mass consumption. They were largely responsible for the attitudes many today profess in the fields of design, painting, and sculpture and demonstrate that a special point of view is as important as a special skill in achieving distinguished work.

1. Theophile Gautier, Preface to Mademoiselle Maupin (Paris, 1835).

2. Benedetto Gravagnuolo, Adolf Loos (New York, 1982),12.


“Ideals ought to aim at the transformation of reality.”
–William James

Visual communications of any kind, whether persuasive or informative, from billboards to birth announcements, should be seen as the embodiment of form and function: the integration of the beautiful and the useful. Copy, art, and typography should be seen as a living entity: each element integrally related, in harmony with the whole, and essential to the execution of an idea. Like a juggler, the designer demonstrates his skills by manipulating these ingredients in a given space. Whether this space takes the form of advertisements, periodicals, books, printed forms, packages, industrial products, signs, or television billboards, the criteria are the same.

That the separation of form and function, of concept and execution, is not likely to produce objects of aesthetic value has been repeatedly demonstrated. Similarly, any system that sees aesthetics as irrelevant, that separates the artist from his product, that fragments the work of the individual, or creates by committee, or makes mincemeat of the creative process will in the long run diminish not only the product but the maker as well.

Commenting on the relationship between fine art and useful or technological art, John Dewey writes: “That many, perhaps most, of the articles and utensils made at present for use are not genuinely aesthetic happens, unfortunately, to be true. But it is true for reasons that are foreign to the relation of the ‘beautiful’ and ‘useful’ as such.

Wherever conditions are such as to prevent the act of production from being an experience in which the whole creature is alive and in which he possesses his living through enjoyment, the product will lack something of being aesthetic. No matter how useful it is for special and limited ends, it will not be useful in the ultimate degree-that of contributing directly and liberally to an expanding and enriched life.”1

1 John Dewey, “Ethereal Things,” Art As Experience (New York, 1934), 26.

The aesthetic requirements to which Dewey refers are, it seems to me, exemplified by the Shakers, who believed that “Trifles make perfection but perfection itself is no trifle.” Their religious beliefs provided the fertile soil in which beauty and utility could flourish. Their spiritual needs found expression in the design of fabrics, furniture, and utensils of great beauty. These products are documents of the simple life of the people, their asceticism, their restraint, their devotion to fine craftsmanship, and their sensitivity to proportion, space, and materials.

In the past, rarely has beauty been an end in itself. The magnificent stained glass windows of Chartres were no less utilitarian than was the Parthenon or the Pyramid of Cheops. The function of the exterior decoration of the great Gothic cathedrals was to invite entry; the rose windows inside provided the spiritual mood a symbiosis of beauty and utility.