I mostly work with small, local clients because I’m wholly enamored of their memory-making sense of place and idiosyncratic vernacular design. Russ & Daughters—one of the last appetizing shops in New York—has existed for a hundred years of consecutive “New York minutes.” (*This* take-a-number number. *This* bialy.) The place is steeped in knowledge, procedures, and techniques transmitted straight from one person to another for generations. (It takes months to learn to slice the salmon because it is a type of hands-on craft knowledge that can be learned only by doing.) This sort of effervescent perpetual motion is the only thing that connects Russ & Daughters’ past to its present: there are no archives; the people there carry forth this history day by day. Because of this, there wasn’t much historical material to build on.
My approach was instead to use design to clarify the humanistic values and made-by-hand processes underlying their vernacular aesthetic and to resist the homogenizing forces of “professionalization” often wielded by designers rebranding small businesses. Anthony Bourdain wrote of Russ & Daughters that they have “survived the brutal caprices of style and changing tastes.” There was no way in hell I was handing these people a style guide.