Target and Mervyn’s host an annual event to honor exceptional latinas dedicated to family and community involvement. “We designed an image of a strong, confident, sensitive latina woman in bold graphic style, reflecting a range of complexions and cultural backgrounds,” Fitch says.
“Tijuana is a melting pot of Mexican, Central American, and
South American cultures. It has always been the ‘door’ to the
United States, where people from all over came to join the line
for a chance to come to the States. There are Chileans, Salvadorans,
Peruvians, Colombians, Brazilians, Ecuadorians, Nicaraguans,
varieties of indigenous Mexicans—you name it—living
there, bringing their music, food, holidays, and traditions into the
scene,” Luis says. “It was a rich environment that colored my life.
What I bring to the table in terms of design today are those colors.
They help set me apart.”
He left Fitch, Inc. in Columbus to join a friend in Miami. They
opened SHD, Strategic Hispanic Design. Fitch offered an explanation:
“We were young. He had his issues; I had mine. But one thing
I learned the hard way was the ‘Latin’ culture and voice is too
complex to assign to all ‘Latin’ people. What the hell do Miami
Cubans want with a Mexican-styled logo?”
While in Miami, Fitch and his partner won an important
account: MTV Latino, a comprehensive contract from corporate
identity to marketing materials. Fitch worked hard but his partner
grew distracted. A break occurred. Afterwards, Fitch won
national recognition for the MTV work and headhunters began
calling. A division of an ad agency in Minneapolis named “Fame”
hired Fitch in 1995.
Poster for Mexican Independence Day.
From noisy, steamy, Latin Miami, Fitch went to discreet,
chilly, Lutheran Minneapolis. Design-savvy and coolish Minneapolis
suited Fitch and wife Carolina nicely from the beginning.
At Fame, he became familiar with the numerous multinationals
in the city, including Target, Pillsbury, and General Mills, each
with a keen interest in reaching the city’s growing Hispanic market.
But after one year, in 1996, Fitch joined John Ryan Company,
a leading financial retail marketing firm. There he remained until
1999, whereupon he and Carolina, with $10,000, opened Uno to
begin “branding for the new majority.”
THE FULL FITCH PITCH
In the years since, Fitch and his team of four, five, or six—depending
upon the economy—have produced some terrific, ethnically
distinct work. In fact, there is little in the portfolio that does not
look Hispanic. A master pitchman since his days selling clothes
and watches off the hood of a car, Fitch perfected his pitch,
“branding for the new majority.”
Fitch freely admits that the tagline, promise, business model,
mantra—whatever you wish to call it—is a measure of both fact
and hyperbole, packaged inside design vocabulary deliberately
and deceptively made to look unschooled, unsophisticated, and
uncomplicated. It is anything but. Says Fitch, “I didn’t want a slick
portfolio like everybody else. Sleek and clean is not the way most
Hispanics see the world, except maybe in places like Mexico City.
So I made it look bad, on purpose.”
LA LOMA asked UNO to produce a range of quality handmade-inspired labels to appeal to the adventurous general market without forgetting the hispanic demographic.
Uno’s bad is very good. It resonates with the target market
and, therefore, appeals to Fitch’s clients. Credit for this look also
belongs to illustrator Anthony Russo, who, along with Fitch, is
responsible for much of the company’s hand-drawn, illustrationdriven
design.
What is instructive about Fitch is that he practices what he
preaches. It is rare to find a design company of its size (five, today,
including husband and wife) that spends as much time and money
on self-promotion. When Fitch calls upon you, his arms are
loaded: reprints of numerous articles testifying to Uno’s savvy and
success, posters, compendiums, postcards, small brochures. It is
impressive, both in terms of quantity and in terms of beauty and
substance as well.
Fitch has sliced, diced, and julienned the area’s Hispanic demographics
so often that he can recite population density figures,
income figures, English language skill figures, and acculturation
percentages, and cross reference them with other U.S. Hispanic
communities in an instant. He can break down communities
by national descent, and recite for you the particular vocabulary,
music, food, holiday, dress and sports habits, and preferences of
each. In short, Fitch knows the Minneapolis Hispanic community
as well as anyone.
LA PLAZA is a three-day event to showcase the arts and crafts of six Mexican states.
As for the growth and strength of Minneapolis’ Hispanic community,
no one has promoted it more than Fitch. Uno regularly
donates creative skills, while Fitch promotes the Hispanic District
as though he were President of the Chamber of Commerce.
Uno even began on the second floor right in the middle of the district’s
heart and soul—the loud and bustling Mercado Central on
Lake Street.
The Minneapolis Hispanic community has been good to Fitch,
and Fitch has been good for it. Now he wants to take his leave.
ADIOS AMIGOS?
“I miss my culture,” Fitch says, with
a note of weariness and regret. “I
have been here 10 years, and I have
loved it. But 7 months a year, 10
years in a row, where temperatures
remain below 10 degrees Celsius?
That’s not normal for me.”
Day of the Dead celebration poster.
Fitch also misses the wider variety of Hispanic culture found in
other American cities, adding, “I miss a place where Mexican people
are not so much a ‘part’ of the community as they are a driving
force within the community. I want our child to experience that.”
That leaves Fitch in the “partially acculturated” category of his
own demographic research. He never went fully acculturated, or
North American. He sold the idea of cross-cultural marketing, he
touted the value of una comunidad, and he preached the gospel of
building and growing the Minneapolis Hispanic market. But he
never fully bought into all of it—and never will. He feels the need
to go somewhere else. And who can blame him?
Today, he is reaching out to contacts in cities such as Miami,
Houston, Dallas, Los Angeles, and Denver in search of options
and collaborations. But he and his wife know that in leaving what
they have built they are taking a risk. In Minneapolis, Fitch has
been successful because he is unique among others. The obvious
question for Fitch is this: In mainstream, Lutheran, progressive
Minneapolis, what happens when Luis Fitch is not one of the few,
richly talented, Mexican/Hispanic designers in town?
“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I guess I’m going to find out. I
have to find out. Because the decision is out of my hands.”
Leaving behind all that you know takes courage. Leaving
behind all that you have established takes self-confidence. And a
mother like Maria, who left everything behind at the age of 16 to
birth a son and raise him in the streets of Tijuana, is the kind of
woman who can teach you that you can do it. The rest is up to you.
Adios from Minneapolis, Mr. Fitch. And buena suerte (good
luck) wherever you land.