Some excerpts from Saul Bass: Anatomy of Film Design:
On running a design office:
“Bass utilized a ruthless process of elimination, whittling down possibilities and always keeping his eyes on the prize, which was to produce a consistent product that met the client’s needs… Arnold Schwartzman described the process as designers throwing out ideas until Bass decided, ‘Let’s work on that one.’ Another employee who worked for Bass in the 1960s, Mike Lonzo, noted that Bass could be completely oblivious to others when he worked, even if they were contributing ideas. He was obsessive about work, and although he could be extremely generous on a personal level, he rarely thanked anyone for their design work. As far as he was concerned, it was their job. Bass usually worked until late at night, and staff members were expected to do the same. Although he considered Bass a mentor and a friend, Arnold Schwartzman left the office after only six months because he couldn’t work through the night, as Saul required. Designing at Saul Bass & Associates did not occur only during normal business hours. As Bass himself noted, creativity ‘cannot operate from nine to five every day and not at any other time.’
[…] Bass showed his mother an advertisement he had designed and explained that he had done neither the photography nor the typography, which confused her. Finally, he said, ‘Well, you see, I conceive the whole thing, and then I get all these people together and get them to carry out the process.’ His mother responded, ‘Oh-you devil!’ In other words, a designer didn’t necessarily create an actual advertisement or brochure or billboard or logo; he or she created the concepts and then assigned others to physically carry out the tasks. A design office might have many designers and technicians working in it, but at its head was the designer whose name was on the door. It was that individual who conceptualized ideas, talked to clients, approved designs, and established the firm’s identity.
Designer Lorraine Wild has connected this strategy to the post-World War II movement of young American modernist designers, trained mostly by German Jewish emigre designers-artists from the Bauhaus, to legitimize their work in the commercial arena of American capital: ‘They found that a most efficient way to connect to their clients as consultants was to tie their own identity as artists and individual creators (or ‘stars’) to the work they produced. Like movie stars or famous artists, their work was increasingly championed on the basis of personal authorship (even if the work was actually the product of a 30-person office), rather than for its merits.’”
On Art Goodman:
“Most designers eventually left to set up their own design firms, the exception being Art Goodman. Goodman, despite being an unbelievably talented designer, stayed because he felt comfortable. [He] treated Bass like a father figure, while Bass treated Goodman like a brother. Goodman worked on numerous corporate identity and packaging campaigns and developed many of the logos that Bass become famous for; he also drew movie and event posters. Because Bass’s hand was apparently unsteady, Goodman prepared many of the final storyboards for Bass’s animated titles and films.
Goodman joined Bass’s firm initially as a freelancer and then as a full-time designer – at less pay than he had been making. The advantage for Goodman was that he didn’t have to run his own office; he was uncomfortable with the business, hustling side of design work. Naturally shy and reticent, and self-conscious about a war wound that had crippled his writing hand, Goodman would get stage fright with clients. Bass, in contrast, was a master at communicating with clients and could almost sell them anything.
[…] The morning after the 1969 Oscars, Bass arrived late at the Saul Bass & Associates office on La Brea. [He] noticed that Art Goodman, his right-hand man for more than ten years, was signing reproductions of sketches for staff members, since he had drawn the ‘Edifice’ animation sequence for Why Man Creates. Saul took his trusted designer aside and told him that he couldn’t sign his own name to the sketches: he worked for Bass, and only Bass was allowed to sign artwork. A day later, an anonymous cartoon of Bass with his Oscar and Moses’ tablets appeared in the office, probably drawn by Goodman. Bass is shown saying, “Voice of whom?” implying that even God had to make an appointment. Goodman, who was as mild-mannered as they come, worked for almost forty years in the Bass office. Bass was the front man for some of Goodman’s best work, but Art never complained about the slight.
Indeed, even though Bass was known to be a screamer, there were few fights between Bass and Goodman, because Art always deferred to Saul as the head of the design studio. That’s the way it was.”
On pricing for film titles:
“A letter survives (in the Gregory Peck Papers) in which Bass summarizes for an anxious producer the production costs for his previous title work, excluding his $15,000 design fee and the advertising campaign:
Carmen Jones (1954) $4,500
The Man with the Golden Arm (1955) $3,500
Saint Joan (1957) $6,000
The Seven Year Itch (1955) $8,000
Attack (1956) $1,700
Storm Center (1956) $3,300
The Pride and the Passion (1957) $7,000Stephen Rebello notes that Bass was paid $10,000 to design the credits for the low-budget Psycho, which cost $21,000 to produce, or approximately 3% of the total $800,000 budget. According to a 1964 Variety article, the average price for movie titles was $7,500 to $8,000 for a quality film, with animated titles (such as Freleng’s Pink Panther titles) running closer to $25,000. With his design fees, Bass titles were on the expensive side, but not overly so. An exception was the whopping $45,000 Universal paid for Bass’s Spartacus titles. Bass also refused to put out bids, which was becoming the industry norm in the 1960s, as many producers trawled for the lowest bidder. Presentations for bids could cost a designer anywhere from $300 to $3,000, with no way to recoup any of that investment if the job went elsewhere.”
On fees and finances:
“In 1974 Bass hired marketing expert Herb Yager. Yager eventually became a full partner, and the firm’s name was changed in September 1978 to Saul Bass/Herb Yager & Associates. The firm’s reorganization was precipitated by the fact that the business was just limping along. Bass had been undercharging for his services, and finances were apparently a mess, especially after Bass spent at least two years almost exclusively on Phase IV. Yager shifted the focus to the more lucrative corporate identity campaigns, and he apparently succeeded in putting the business in order, as reflected by his promotion to partner…
According to Jeff Okun, Bass had stopped creating credit sequences because Yager argued that titles were labor intensive and never made any money. Given that the office was in financial trouble, Bass was supposedly allowed to take credits work only if the more lucrative corporate identity work didn’t suffer. However, even in the 1960s, Bass, who was not a talented businessman, was constantly overspending and getting into conflicts with his business manager Morrie Marsh. Mike Lonzo, who worked with Bass in the mid-1960s, got the feeling that Bass enjoyed titles more as a hobby because they were so labor intensive and such money losers.”
On posters:
“‘The basic problem in all kinds of design has been that everybody tries to say too much. You have to say something simple, but something that moves people… I tend to simplification, looking for the one powerful, provocative image that takes the notion of whatever you are trying to communicate and does something to it, and forces you to exam it. And is sufficiently seductive to pull you into it.’
It was a gamble, however: ‘If it catches on, you’re a hero. If it doesn’t, all’s lost and you take the entire blame.’ In fact, Bass did get the blame for the failed Vertigo advertising campaign, which initially used the spiral logo he designed. That logo apparently didn’t catch on with the public, so Paramount switched to a conventional sell, utilizing the logo only for the modified one-sheet posters. Changing an advertising campaign midstream was not uncommon, although the redesigned ads could also be hits or misses. In this case, the new campaign substantially improved attendance, leading Paramount to reaffirm the right of studio executives to turn ‘a deaf ear’ to independents with their own campaign angles.”
— (via)