When I was a kid I didn’t take well to what I considered “adult colors.” That sounds weird,  but I think you know what I mean. And surely this applies to almost every kid. There is a reason cartoons and cereal boxes are constructed using bright, vivid, elementary colors. It’s a language kids understand. It’s a language understood by Matisse and many of the greatest painters, namely Piet Mondrian, Ellsworth Kelly, and especially Andy Warhol. It is pure simplicity in communication, and what it communicates is carefree, lighthearted, unadulterated fun!

The fun of color is multiplied when married to simple geometry. This seems to be well grasped by some of the aforementioned painters, as well as the members of the Milano based Memphis design group, founded in 1980. We surely didn’t realize it when we were kids (those of us born in the eighties or earlier), but so many of the ads, cartoons, TV show titles and skateboards, among other things, that we knew so well, took direct cues from the playful designs of Sottsass and the rest of the Memphis crew.

We (Vite! Studios, an Oakland, CA based creative studio) are no different. When charged with the task of creating a backdrop and centerpiece for Fairyland’s production of Hickory Dickory Dock, we were thrilled, and immediately put our Memphis goggles on. Children’s Fairyland opened in 1950 and has since become an Oakland landmark, beloved by Oakland natives and tourists alike. I remember visiting the wonderland as a kid and being enchanted by the surreal architecture, the storybook figurines, and of course, the color. The color still enchants me! And here was an opportunity to unite that charm with the cool of Memphis. 

With limited space, a small budget and a (very) short timeline, we were forced to pack a lot of design into a small space, a lot of material into a small budget, and a lot of work into a small amount of time. After acquiring what would be the basis of the centerpiece (a $20 yard sale “grandfather” clock, cheaply made but well kept), we quickly illustrated the backdrop layout around it. 

Sottsass created a number of patterns, many of which were the defining formal element of his works. After sorting through the many potential patterns we could “borrow” from him, it was clear we had not the time to apply them, given their complicated nature. His famed “bacteria” pattern, or the pervasive “composition book” pattern would have been perfect routes to define the space of the backdrop, though the short timeline simply would not allow it. Luckily our studio is littered with our kids toys, and the solution lay right before our eyes. Two children’s play sets sat side-by-side, one plastered in red and yellow checkers, the other with a green and white grid. The universal appeal of checkers and grids is undeniable, and the ease with which it can be painted in large scale (with the right tape), made these patterns an obvious choice. Within minutes I was on my way to Home Depot.

Frog Tape, one roll. Particle board, 4 feet by 8 feet, two. Yellow plastic chain, six feet. Cabinet knobs, two. Five pulleys and five 10 inch pins. One rotating disk, two 12 inch by 12 inch canvas’ and one 24 inch by 36 inch canvas. Also, two small wooden boards, about 10 inches by 12 inches, and two sets of hinges. Oh, and six quarts of paint, various colors, to be chosen in store. This was my Home Depot list. 

Behr Marquee was the paint of choice here, in matte finish, in the following colors:

100 MPH (red), Clover Patch (green), Buzz-In (yellow), Acapulco Sun (orange), Aztec Sky (blue), and Water Hyacinth (purple). It was a mixture of bright primaries and softer, but equally vibrant, pastels, all of which brought a cool eighties flavor through their electric comic book harmonies. Our budget for materials was only $250, and surprisingly we came in slightly under (collectively all materials costed just around $215).

The surface, two upright particle boards, 8 feet in height, was difficult. Primarily because of transportation, knowing that the material is fickle, being essentially a giant slab of compressed wood chips. This was, however, the only option if we wanted to remain within budget for the project, therefore kid gloves were essential. Once safely moved from point A to B, the surface was perfectly suitable for painting. 

At the point of acquiring all materials, we had less than one week to complete everything. The plan was to attack the wood panels first (the clock, the centerpiece, at this point had been disassembled, painted and silk screened, then reassembled, awaiting only the addition of some three dimensional elements for extra color and character). Three days total were dedicated to painting the backdrop (day one for primer, day two to divide by large areas of color, and day three for patterns and any details and touch-ups). Within three days the panels were completely painted, save for a few spots here and there. Now the difficult part.

In order to maintain a cohesive balance with the centerpiece, we knew there had to be three dimensional elements across the backdrop, which was the purpose of the additional materials (plastic chain, canvas, cabinet doors, and so on). Three-dimensionality alone, however, wasn’t enough. There had to be functionality, an interactive element in the set design. This was, after all, a children’s theatre production, so the more “playground” we could make it, the better. At this point we had three days to complete everything. We knew our eyes were bigger than our stomachs, so to speak, so we had to whittle down what was to be included. A large, plastic pendulum was replaced with an abstract canvas depicting a pendulum. Four small canvases reduced to two, and a rotating handle that made elements spin simultaneously was, unfortunately, left on the cutting room floor.

The forced subtractions allowed us to plow ahead for the next three days, and despite those cuts, the set began to come alive! Using the pulley system and the 10 inch pins, strategically placed on the back of the painted panels, compositional elements projected forward, hovering over the surface of the backdrop. The rotation of the pulleys allowed objects to move, and children in the audience could freely interact with the compositional elements. Painted disks spun, brightly colored and textured canvases rotated, doors opened and closed, revealing cartoon critters behind them, the hands of a large clock spun and a pendulum, painted on canvas, swung to and fro with the push of a hand. The set was alive, it became a character in itself, full of bold and quirky personality. 

The deadline had arrived, and it was that morning when we realized we couldn’t transport the backdrop without severe damage. We scrambled to disassemble everything, load up, deliver to Fairyland and quickly reassemble onsite. There was a hard stop at 2:00PM, and when we arrived onsite at about 1:00PM it was a mad dash to get everything in place and secured. As I picked up the drill to begin assembly, it was noted by one of the staff that the collective width of the panels was 2 feet too wide. We froze, saying nothing for about thirty seconds, until I asked “do you have a skill saw handy?” Luckily they did, and after determining the exact excess (20 inches), I gave direction to slice 10 inches from the left of the left the panel and 10 from the right of the right. Not only did this oversight cause us to lose 20 inches of composition, but it also forced a relocation of some of the three-dimensional elements. By about 1:30PM the cuts were completed, and I quickly drilled new holes for the relocation of pulleys, pins and objects. In 25 minutes it was done. 

I can’t recall a single project that didn’t either push the deadline or come extremely close to doing so, which isn’t due to procrastination, but to maximization. It’s the goal with every project to maximize its potential, to pack in as much as possible, to make it as great as possible, and to use every ounce of time in order to do so. In fact, I wouldn’t be satisfied with a project if this wasn’t the case. This project was truly satisfying.

Upon seeing the backdrop, fully constructed and united with its bold centerpiece, I was enchanted. It was the kind of every-day enchantment of childhood, the pure excitement a kid gets from bright colors and bold shapes, a joy that doesn’t require any understanding, analysis or even thought. The kind of joy I knew from Saturday morning cartoons, or TGIF, or the food fight in Hook. It was a joy known when standing in the middle of a large scale Frank Stella sculpture from the eighties, or even perhaps the kind of joy Sottsass felt when his concepts came to life. It was carefree, lighthearted, unadulterated fun.