Drainspotting

In a stroll down the back alleys of Flickr, it's easy to bump into a photo pool of Japanese manhole covers (they're the fancy ones pictured above). Photographers and designers alike celebrate that country's penchant for spicing up the streetscape with creative, colorful motifs. You can even find maps of exactly where these gems can be found. Stateside, we're fascinated to find that government-types care enough to create utility covers that willfully transcend their purpose.

A quick (and rain-soaked) survey of Duckpin Press' neighborhood manhole covers revealed the non-fancy type pictured above. In fact, our covers are exactly what you'd think they'd be: utilitarian, inconspicuous, and forgettable. Hunks of iron pressed into perfect circles with the least amount of embellishment. Some say SEWER or WATER METER while others stand resolute and silent, there only to serve one purpose. And that's how it should be.

Architect Louis Kahn famously asked, "What does a brick want to be?" His question speaks to the theory that design should be true to the materials that comprise it. It should also be true to its purpose. A brick wants to be formally stacked with others just like it in order to form a wall. That is its calling. And though that wall may appear mundane, it is the purest expression of the brick.

With our manhole covers, their workaday forms clearly speak to their pragmatic function. We make similar design judgments all the time in the shop. When setting agate type (the tiny, fineprinty stuff), you wouldn't think of adding a swash capital. Why? Because agate needs only to be legible, functional, and efficient. That's its calling. It would be antithetical for it to, say, compete with the headline. In design, we know not everything needs to fight for your attention.

So I'm with Louis Kahn when it comes to manhole covers: I'll take our unassuming -- but honest -- treatment over a contrived design any day.