Simplicity is never a goal; it is a by-product of a good idea and modest expectations.
If you don’t recognize the name Paul Rand, he was arguably the most famous graphic designer in modern history, and many of his logos look great 30, 50, even 60 years later. Among other things, he was known for typically bringing one concept to a client, not a range of options. This is it: use it or don’t. His confidence in his skills and his work must have been staggering.

Paul Rand’s logos for the American Broadcasting Company (1962), International Business Machines (1967–1972), NeXT (1986), and United Parcel Service (1961–2003). Images: paulrand.design
In his best work, Rand simplified an idea down to its essence, where it could not only survive but excel in virtually any context. His logos demonstrate that at its best, simplicity isn’t just decorative emptiness. It’s knowing what to remove so that what remains is more meaningful and more purposeful.
In last week’s feature article, I explained ma, the Japanese concept of a pause, a gap, or negative space, and how it can be a calming influence in our lives and in the world at large. I argued that maximalism, Instagramization, and performative affluence—an unholy trinity if ever there were one—are creating a world increasingly hostile to ma.
This week, I’d like to ask what happens if luxury brands respond to this by embracing ma. I don’t mean only in the design of their boutiques, hotels, restaurants, and other physical spaces—I mean in everything they do. What if luxury becomes something that people turn to not to photograph, but to feel? Not to impress others, but to restore themselves? Not to add to the noise (in every sense of the word) we’re immersed in today, but to quiet daily life?
Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
If that all sounds wonderful to you—it does to me—could there be a dark side?

