The occasion of America’s Independence Day on July 4th offers a good time to reflect on how the Star-Spangled Banner became the official flag of the nation. It all started back in 1777. A ragtag army of American colonists was engaged in a fierce battle for independence from Great Britain. Designing an aesthetically pleasing flag to represent themselves was the last thing on their mind. Outnumbered, outspent and outmaneuvered, the Continental Congress had more urgent matters to deal with.

But an emissary from a pro-colonist Native American tribe forced Congress to act by requesting a banner of sorts to display so that scouts would not come under “friendly fire” while on missions for the Continental Army. To prove they were willing to “pay” for such a flag, the emissary included three strings of wampum. Congress hastily put a flag design on its agenda, and 11 days later: “RESOLVED: that the flag of the United states be 13 stripes, alternate red and white; that the Union be 13 stars, white in a blue field representing a new constellation.” This resolution was one of many passed that day. The committee obviously didn’t give the matter much thought, but “borrowed” liberally from several sources, including the Sons of Liberty red-and-white “stripes of rebellion” banner and the 13-star blue canton of the New Hampshire Green Mountain Boys and Rhode Island Continental Regiment.

Produced for the Nevada Museum of Art by Kit Hinrichs while a partner at Pentagram

Since nothing was spelled out, flagmakers interpreted the flag resolution any way they wanted. The stars varied in size, arrangement and points. Sometimes the stars were placed in a circle, staggered in rows, displayed with a big star in the middle surrounded by smaller ones, or just scattered on the blue field as if sewn in place wherever they landed. The red and white stripes also varied in width.

The situation didn’t improve even after the American Revolution. When Kentucky and Vermont won statehood in 1794, Congress agreed to acknowledge them by expanding the number of stars and stripes to 15. Supposedly each time a State entered the Union, it would get its own star and stripe too, but with so many territories slated to enter the Union, Congress decided that the stripes would soon become pinstripes, and decreed that the flag would revert back to 13 horizontal stripes symbolizing the original 13 colonies, with each state represented by a single star.

Even limiting changes to the stars proved problematic. Since 28 states entered the Union between 1818 and 1912, practical flagmakers left unsightly gaps in the blue canton so they could easily stitch another star into place. During the Civil War, the opposite happened, with angry Unionist tearing stars off to protest Confederate secessionist states.

The lack of graphic standards for the American flag proved both negative and positive. Free to interpret the nation’s banner any way they wanted, average Americans creatively applied stars and stripes to everything from pincushions to cans of pickled pork. Sometimes the lack of design sensibility bordered on desecration of the flag. By 1912, when the nation had 48 states, Congress decided that enough was enough. It adopted the graphic guidelines that are in place today. When we consider the history of the American flag, it is a miracle that the Stars & Stripes has become so iconic and recognizable when it ignored every rule of how to build a strong graphic identity.

Current TV, the media company started by former U.S. Vice President Al Gore and businessman Joel Hyatt, has launched a new logo designed by Wolff Olins and animation house GHAVA. Replacing the static pixelated identity created by Meta Design and Peter Saville in 2005 (contemporary for its time), the waving Current logo is meant to be viewed in motion, or at least to imply that it is in motion. Unlike traditional logos, the Current identity takes advantage of the technological capabilities of the broadcast medium. Dropped out of whatever background is behind it, the name undulates like a flag, leaving the borders and proportions loosely defined. The logo itself uses a familiar compressed modern gothic font and foregoes any use of proprietary colors. As flat graphics, it’s pretty simple. What makes it special is that movement isn’t used as an afterthought, but as the essence of its uniqueness.

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Monika Ostaszewska was a student at the Faculty of Industrial Design at the Academy of Fine Arts in Warsaw when she focused her graduation project on a packaging concept for a region in Poland known for the quality of its food products. Her idea was to create an umbrella brand called “Flavours of Podlaskie” for the region itself and sub-brands for each category of local food producers.

Because Podlaskie lies on the eastern border of Poland, it attracts a lot of foreign tourists who come to see the last European primeval forest and to sample Podlaskie’s famous specialities — “sękacz”, “pierogi” and cheese from Korycin. “Flavours of Podlaskie” packaging lets local producers benefit from the region’s reputation for quality, and also share the cost of a branding program that many may not be able to afford on their own.

Designed as a modular program, common elements that appear on all packages are the red “Flavours of Podlaskie” tag, double-warp woven images that reflect traditional Polish patterns, and border edges to frame the composition. Each package is white and one color. The color choice serves as a coding system that distinguishes different category of products.

As far as we know, the work is still just a concept, but it is beautifully designed and brilliantly conceived.

Recently a number of Pantone-color inspired products have been introduced into the marketplace. There’s the Pantone chip mug by W2, the Pantone cufflinks by Sonia Spencer, the Pantone stationery and bags by Alpha, and now there is the new Pantone Hotel in Brussels, created in a licensing partnership with a British developer.

Designed by Belgian interior designer Michel Penneman and Belgian architect Olivier Hannaert, the seven-story boutique hotel is alive with chic, contemporary colors, all matched to Pantone’ color swatches. Guestrooms are appointed with white walls and bedding to create a neutral backdrop for Belgian photographer Victor Levy’s photographic installations featuring a spectrum of vibrant Pantone colors. The public spaces equally reflect Pantone’s skill at applying color psychology and design trends to create an environment that is at once convivial, happy, and relaxing.

Why are there so many sound-alike names? The short answer is this: Most of the good names are taken. Between a rising tide of startups on one hand, and a flood of URLs on the other, companies are continually forced to dive deeper for workable names. The latest trend is to push the boundaries of dignity with names like Yahoo!, Google, FatSplash and Jamcracker. Where will it end?

It won’t. The need for good brand names originates with customers and customers will always want convenient ways of identifying, remembering, discussing, and comparing brands. The right name can be a brand’s most valuable asset, driving differentiation and speeding acceptance. The wrong name can cost millions, even billions, in workarounds and lost income over the lifetime of the brand. George Bernard Shaw’s advice applies to brands as well as people: “Take care to get born well.”

Of course, some names haven’t been created so much as inherited. A good example of a heritage name is Smuckers, which marketing people have often cited as a bad name with a clever spin. “With a name like Smuckers, it has to be good,” goes the well-known slogan. But Smuckers was a good name from day one – distinctive, short, spellable, pronounceable, likable, portable, and protectable. And while the company presents it as slightly silly, the name benefits strongly from onomatopoeia. “Smuckers” sounds like smacking lips, the pre-verbal testament to a yummy jam.

Another heritage name is Carl Zeiss, the maker of optical lenses. Does Zeiss make great lenses? Who knows? But the name makes the lenses “sound” great. The word “Zeiss” has hints of “glass” and “precise,” and evokes thoughts of German technological superiority. The name works so well that it can stretch to include high-end sunglasses and other precision products without the risk of breakage.

Generally speaking, high-imagery names are more memorable than low-imagery names. Names constructed from Greek and Latin root words tend to be low-imagery. Accenture and Innoveda come to mind. Names that use Anglo-Saxon words, or the names of people, tend to be high-imagery names, producing vivid mental pictures that aid recall. Think of Apple Computer and Betty Crocker. Some of the most powerful names are those that combine well with a visual treatment to create a memorable brand icon.

The inflight instructions are equally irreverent, with the flight attendant advising passengers to make sure they have all their belongings with them when leaving the plane, but if they have to leave anything behind “make sure it is something the cabin crew can use. Preferably not children.”

Or telling passengers before takeoff: “If you have a child with you, please be sure to fasten their seatbelt first. If you have more than one, please select your favorite now and fasten their seatbelt.”

Here’s Wheeler’s schematic of components that go into preparing a brand brief. “Many entrepreneurial companies have visionaries who walk around with this information in their heads; getting it on paper helps anyone who has the responsibility to execute the vision,” she says. “The best briefs are succinct and strategic, and approved by the most senior levels in an organization early in the process. If these briefs are approved, the balance of the project is more likely to be on track and successful.”