Living in Springfield most of my life, I have made a mission to frequent a variety of coffeehouses. Most coffee aficionados strive to find the perfect house blend or attain the venerated $100 pound of Kopi Luwak. Me, I enjoy the full-package including the coffeehouse’s attention to design.

Not too long ago, Springfield welcomed a new addition to the coffeehouse scene with The Coffee Ethic who place an emphasis on the art and science of brewing the perfect cup as well as being socially and environmentally responsible. These are certainly criteria that rank high on my list for a great coffeehouse (or any organization for that matter). But as a designer I have always been drawn to their identity.

Many logos today try to do too much with little success. The Coffee Ethic gets to the essence of who they are and what they do with the most efficient of design. Little nuances like the blue element that symbolizes their focus on great coffee wrapped by the coffee cup work together to form a beautiful C and E monogram. No fluff, no unnecessary embellishments. Even the Helvetica logotype fits beautifully with the logogram providing an understated-yet-appropriate anchor for the design. When you enter The Coffee Ethic you see the design carry through to the environmental signage as well as various swag.

With so many coffeehouses popping up all over the Springfield metro area, it’s refreshing to find at The Coffee Ethic the perfect blend of a quality cup and complimentary design that strive to make a positive impact culturally, socially, and environmentally.

I’m a print designer by training, but in this dot-com world I am learning to apply those picas to pixels and beef up my web design skills. As I sit at the proverbial feet of those web designers who have masterfully gone before me, I glean from their strengths and insights. There is always so much to learn and it’s encouraging to see those in the design disciplines who are ardently passionate about their professions.

I have a handful of websites I faithfully visit to absorb some of that passion and hopefully learn a technique or two that will better shape me as a burgeoning web designer. One of my growing favorites in both content and design is Khoi Vinh’s Subtraction.com.

When you visit Khoi’s site you might be tempted to think in terms of simple and boring; I urge you to refrain from thinking in such narrow terms. Subtraction is true to its name; it is a site that strips away the fluff that is often found on the web (both in design and content) and allows the visitor to look at a little slice of authenticity in design, photography, and life through the figurative (and literal) lens of Khoi Vinh.

The content Vinh has on his site—ranging from photography to cultural trends to his personal life—is supported by a subtle, yet strong design that allows for easy readability and intuitive navigation. Everything is broken out into logical categories that display in a clean and easy-to-follow results list.

I’ll be honest; I’m a glutton for black and white; I think I’m a product of Bauhaus design 50 years too late. Even with my pre-existing monochromatic bias, I have to appreciate the great care Vinh takes in crafting a site that is easy to navigate and interact with using only what is necessary. You will not find gratuitious Apple-inspired reflections or buttons that are the result of someone who went chrome-happy.

What you will find at Khoi Vinh’s Subtraction is a true example of Gestalt where content and design beautifully blend together to create something that is bigger than either on their own, showing novice web designers like myself (and maybe even a few that have been around the block a time or two) how a little can go a long way.

Everyone who knows me understands my passion—yea obsession—with Irish rock band U2. You can only imagine the downright glee I experience when I hear rumors of a new album from this fantastic foursome. Their recently released twelfth studio album, No Line on the Horizon, certainly did not disappoint. It wouldn’t take much to get me to wax eloquently about the sonic goodness that is No Line, but here I want to focus on an aspect of album releases that is oft overlooked: package design.

Many of my peers exercise great financial stewardship content to barely break a Hamilton and download the basic version of album from online stores such as iTunes. Not me, my friend. I foam with rabid excitement when I see the title followed by “deluxe edition.” Imagine my euphoric delight to hear of such inclusions as “thirty-six-page booklet” and “fold-out poster.” I don’t think overpriced when I see the $65 price tag of the limited edition box set; I see that as a few weeks I could stand to ride my bike to work and re-allocate my gas money. Sure the music is the same. But the care and concept that went behind such design masterpieces is worth every additional penny. As a designer I have a slight bias, but I like to think that my passion for advocating well-designed album packaging is tantamount to those who line their music shelves with freshly pressed vinyl simply because it sounds better. Why not take the same approach visually and adorn your media cabinet with the artistic stylings of the deluxe digipak?

Certainly if any band can make an argument for turning a frugal downloader into a package-design collector it is U2. Beginning early in their career, U2 collaborated with longtime friend and quintessential U2 designer Steve Averill (of Ireland based design firm Four5one Creative) and iconic photographer Anton Corbijn to bring brilliant blends of concept, artistry, and design to every visual aspect of the band.

No Line takes shape in five different available album packages (including one LP design, for all you audiophiles). Each one has their extra embellishments and supplemental elements that help tell the story of the album and the songs within. Thanks to my beautiful wife Sarah, I am currently enjoying the limited digipak version (though how I long for thee, oh $65 dollar limited edition box set). Within it’s sleek-but-subtle clear sleeve (embellished with opalescent “equal sign” line element) lies a folding digipak album. No tacky jewel cases here; the album is pure ink on paper that opens to reveal a 36-page booklet which combines elements of photography and type that visually underscore each song. Subtle embellishments like certain text printed in spot varnish show the attention to visual detail and the value placed in the overall design. Carefully affixed to the interior of the packaging, the magazine makes the album more book than CD. Even the foldout poster (which I am typically not a fan of) is appropriately affixed to the opposite panel, composed with striking photography of the band during the development of the album.

Yes, U2’s No Line on the Horizon package design is an example of the attention to design that I argue should be placed into all albums not just as an afterthought, but as an additional element in the telling of the story.

My limited edition digipak sits proudly on my shelf, as if a recent acquisition in a museum display. Hopefully the musical world will continue to create beautiful “artifacts” that will continue to visually tell the sonic story.