Bauhaus

Bauhaus — In the Middle of Our Street

A true story by Erick Sahler

Walter Gropius founded Bauhaus a century ago in Weimar, Germany. Bauhaus literally means “building house,” or as the Germans understood it, “the school of building.” The mission was to create “gesamtkunstwerk” — that is, a “total work of art” in which all elements — architecture, industrial design, interior design, even typography — functioned as one.

The global influence of Bauhaus can not be overstated. It bolstered the rise of Modernism and grew into the International Style. The highly decorative architectural embellishments of the baroque, beaux-arts and Victorian periods were stripped away. Technological advances in steel, reinforced concrete and plate glass gave architects and designers new elements to explore. “Less is more” became their mantra.

Beyond architecture, the Bauhaus influence extended to everyday goods replacing delicate ornamental products with basic geometric shapes and primary colors that were cheap and easy to reproduce.

Today we are still surrounded by products influenced by Bauhaus principles, from the iconic Barcelona chair to Apple’s original click-wheel iPod — designs that will continue to look fresh and modern 100 years into the future.

So it’s ironic that some of the most ubiquitous Bauhaus artistry is hiding in plain sight. And it appears — well — outdated. Old-fashioned. Passé.

First, the backstory.

In 1925, while serving as the Bauhaus director of printing and advertising, Herbert Bayer created a geometric sans serif typeface he called Universal. It was never used. But 50 years later, in 1975, designers Ed Benguiat and Victor Caruso updated Bayer’s Universal typeface, calling their new version ITC Bauhaus.

By the late 1970s, the typeface was everywhere.

Think Bloomingdales. Or surfer T-shirts. Or early video games. The Bauhaus font — and other imitations — so defined the look of that era it has become the go-to typeface to invoke nostalgia for the 1970s. House Industries’ recent design work for the Broadway musical “The Cher Show” used a variant.

Here’s where things get weird.

In the late 1980s, when Maryland and other states began implementing the federal government’s Drug-Free School Zone policies, signage was needed to establish a “safe sanctuary” surrounding school yards 1,000 feet in every direction. And the typeface used on those signs — unlike any other roadsigns in the history of the United States — was (drumroll, please) ITC Bauhaus!

I can not find any record of who picked the typeface or why, but it was a daring choice.

Now, 30 years later, those ITC Bauhaus-emblazoned Drug-Free School Zone signs are showing their age. The yellow backgrounds are cracked and the black letters and striping have faded to gray.

I recently made a photographic survey of the Drug-Free School Zone signs in and around Salisbury. I’ve always loved them — for use of the ITC Bauhaus typeface alone — and I fear the day is coming when they will be replaced with something of a more, well, sober design.

Incidentally, Bauhaus founder Walter Gropius fled Nazi Germany in 1934. He settled in rural Massachusetts, about a mile from Walden Pond, where Henry Thoreau busied himself tracking ants a century earlier. Gropius built a house employing Bauhaus principles, with every aspect designed for maximum simplicity. He continued to work on architectural projects and served on the faculty at Harvard University through the end of his career. He died in 1969.

The Gropius House in Lincoln, Massachusetts, and a second Bauhaus in Dresden, Germany, are now both open to the public. I’d love to visit someday. But if not, there are those wonderfully retro Drug-Free School Zone signs to remind me of the lasting influence of Bauhaus.

I can not find any record of who picked the Bauhaus typeface for “Drug Free School Zone” signs in the 1980s, but it was a daring choice.