MN: The first graphic design star was probably Hammurabi of Babylon in the 18th century B.C. He was hot. His groupies wore veils, but they knew a great designer when they saw one.

Seriously, graphic design is pretty much a 20th-century phenomenon. You could argue that the first stars—the proto-stars—were people like Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec and William Morris. Art and design were just starting to separate in the late 1800s. These guys caught flak from their art friends for going “commercial,” but it was their connection with art that made them design stars (along with some extreme personal attributes).

Pure graphic design—design that wasn’t mixed with art—only got started in the early 1900s. Then you had stars like Peter Behrens from Germany, who designed one of the first corporate identity systems; Lucian Bernhard, another German, who designed typefaces and sachplakaten—posters that boiled brand messages down to a name and a product illustration. Later, A.M. Cassandre took posters to a higher level of popularity with advertisements for ocean liners, record players, and cool industrial materials like laminated glass. These were posters that ordinary people would talk about when they hit the streets.

A 1913 sachplakat, or “object poster,” designed by Lucian Bernhard for pelikan typewriter ribbons.	In 1907 Peter Behrens pioneered the concept of corporate identity with his communications program for the German Electric company AEG.

STEP: What constitutes a design star?

MN: My theory is that a design star is a person who symbolizes a particular “thing.” In the early days of design, that thing was design itself, and the designer was usually a man. As design grew into a larger industry, the thing became more specific, so rather than design, it was identity design (Paul Rand), or movie-title design (Saul Bass), or advertising design (Helmut Krone), or letterbased design (Herb Lubalin), or illustration-based design (Milton Glaser). The general rule is one star per thing, whatever that thing is, because one symbol is usually all we need.

STEP: Do we still have design stars today?

1983 poster by April Greiman for an event at the Pacific Design Center MN: Sure, but the “thing” that each of our modern stars represents is more abstract, and the star may just as easily be a woman as a man. It’s no longer enough to symbolize, say, annual reports or package design. Recent stars symbolize things like borrowed historicism (Paula Scher), creative anarchy (David Carson), expressionist typography ( Jennifer Sterling), high concept (Stefan Sagmeister), extra-dimensional space (April Greiman), or design for social change (Bruce Mau). Today the field is so thick with stars that you have to be a supernova just to get noticed. In 1930 it was exotic enough to be a graphic designer—you didn’t have to destroy the readability of type or scarify your body to generate some buzz.

STEP: Was there ever really a star system, or does the design community just put certain designers on a pedestal?

MN: I don’t think there was ever an official “system.” Stars simply emerge in response to the community’s need for them. For example, educational institutions need stars to inspire the students, so they invite them to lecture. Magazines need stars to fill their pages with fresh images. Event programmers need stars to challenge their audience’s assumptions. Design organizations need stars to draw in members. And we professional designers need our stars to widen the range of stylistic options, as in, “Let’s do a Paul Rand thing.” The people who fill these roles become the stars.

STEP: Can you set out to be a star, or is it mostly luck?

MN: I don’t think you can be a star accidentally. I think you have to want it, you have to work for it, you have to be prepared to make sacrifices. I remember Rick Valicenti once saying that his firm’s whole marketing plan was based on his position as a celebrity. It struck me as very calculating, and in retrospect I think it has to be. There’s too much competition out there to leave your stardom to chance.

STEP: You say sacrifices—what kind of sacrifices are involved?

MN: Surprisingly, one of the sacrifices is money. We tend to imagine our heroes living in palatial estates, driving expensive cars, staying at the best hotels, yada yada. But I don’t think it’s like that. The designers who make the most money are at the opposite end of the spectrum—they’re the ones whose marketing is aimed at clients rather than the design community. Not to say you can’t balance those two sides, but it’s diffcult without compromising one or the other.

Another thing you have to sacrifice is effective design. (I’m being a little provocative here to make a point.) Graphic design—if it’s good—is usually invisible, even to other designers. This is because most of the work we do plays a supporting role, not a lead role, and it’s inextricably linked with a goal that’s somewhat hidden from the audience. For a design solution to get noticed in its own right it usually has to “act out.” Like a child who wants attention, it has to “be bad” in some way. I personally love design with some attitude, but I’m a designer. Audiences don’t view it the same way. They want design to be invisible—they care much more about the “what” than the “how” of communication.

Stefan Sagmeister bleeds for his art in this invitation to a 1999 lecture at Cranbrook Academy of Art. Finally, you have to pre-sacrifice the notion of general popularity. The public doesn’t care about graphic design. Why should it? Graphic design is just something that happens to them, like the weather. They can enjoy it or complain about it, but there’s no way for them to interact with it on the level of personal identity. For example, I may know the names Jonathan Ive or Chris Bangle because I can express my personality by buying an Apple or a BMW. I may know Donna Karan or Tommy Hilfiger because I can wear their clothes. I may know Rem Koolhaas or Frank Gehry because I can visit their museums. But I probably don’t know that Stefan Sagmeister designed the packaging for my Rolling Stones CD. I’m focused on Mick Jagger, so I don’t bother to learn Sagmeister’s name. (Sorry, Stef!)

STEP: Is there no way to be a design star outside the design community?

MN: There may well be. Personally, I’m just not sure it’s worth the effort. What does it mean to be a graphic design celebrity? Would your portrait grace the cover of general-audience magazines? Would you be invited onto talk shows to discuss your latest website, book cover, or trademark? Would you host your own TV program? These are definite possibilities, but who would care? Probably only other designers and wannabe designers. Everyone else will be watching Jessica Simpson on E! News.

STEP: Will the star system go away?

MN: That’s an interesting question. In my view, the biggest shift in design today is the shift from the lone genius to the creative collaborator. In the last century, high-profile designers were more like independent artists than designers, and they were hired by corporate patrons—Herbert Bayer by Walter Paepke, Paul Rand by Thomas Watson, Jr., Saul Bass by Otto Preminger. Today, significant projects are too complex to be handled by one person or a single firm, or to be managed by one person. They need the collaboration of specialists.

Look at any design history book. When you turn to the index, what you see is a list of individual designers. Let me open The History of Design by Phillip Meggs. Here we go, page 506: “Charles Dana Gibson, Bob Gill, Eric Gill, Charles Gillot, Firmin Gillot, Ralph Ginzburg, George Giusti, Milton Glaser.” All individuals. It’ll be interesting to see what this index looks like in 20 years. My guess is that the individual stars will share the page with the names of companies, projects, teams, trends, and concepts. The history of design will be told more with ideas than with individuals.

STEP: Where will that leave the stars?

MN: Oh, the stars will have a role to play. We’ll still need them to inspire the students, break stylistic barriers, challenge the status quo, provide images for design magazines, and so on. We’ll probably end up with more stars, because we’ll have more categories of design and behavior to symbolize. There will be plenty of opportunities for those who choose to pursue stardom, but the pay will be less, the audiences smaller, and the celebrity more fleeting. As Andy Warhol predicted, everyone will get his or her 15 minutes of fame. I’m afraid what’s happening is that the more outrageous stars will be the free sideshow acts of design, while the ticket performances will be in the main tent. We’re fascinated by the bearded lady, the snake-boy, the two-headed dog, the half-cat/half-rabbit—but we’re awe-inspired by the aerial gymnasts who bring teamwork to a level of beauty.

STEP: So why would anyone set their sights on design stardom?

MN: Because they’re born to it. Because there’s no better way to exercise their abilities. Because they’ll find a receptive audience. Because there’s nothing else that will make them happy. Hemingway once said the only reason to become a writer is because you can’t stop writing. By the same token, the only reason to be a design star is because you can’t not be one. If it fits your destiny, go for it. There will be a small space waiting for you at the bottom of page 507. Right after Hammurabi.