Oliver Johnston was an activist, a graphic designer, and a graduate of Parsons School of Design, where he later taught. He was a founding member of ACT-UP, the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power, and a co-designer of the Silence=Death poster. He was also my uncle, and he died in 1990 from complications with AIDS. He was 38, and I was 8.

As a kid I knew Oliver was a “graphic designer” but I didn’t really know what that meant —— I just knew that he was an artist, loved dressing in bright clothes, and could sometimes be bossy, giving me feedback on my coloring books and art directing my attempts to carve a jack-o-lantern. 

The last time I saw him, my mom and I traveled to New York City, my first time there, to visit him in the hospital. He was starting to lose his vision, but he was still taking client calls from his bed, talking through design decisions with them. At one point, I remember him saying, “No, no, use Yellow 107 there.”

In that moment, my 8-year-old mind was blown. Oliver knew so much about art that he had assigned a number to every color, and knew the difference between at least 107 different yellows, even without being able to see them! Of course, I had never heard of Pantone Matching System, but the point still stands —— he knew the numbers of all the colors. The experience left a deep impression on me and is my last memory of him. He died about a month later. 

Fast forward several decades, and I am now older than Oliver will ever be, and I also consider myself a designer. And while my path has also included elements of journalism, storytelling, problem-solving and strategy, I find that my career path can all be traced back to this original moment of inspiration, that hospital room where Oliver numbered the colors. It was the first time I realized art could be more than pretty pictures of whatever you wanted. He showed me that design was a discipline, with hierarchies and rules to follow (or break), all chosen with a specific intent. In other words, design is art with a job to do. 

When I started my own freelance practice, I looked to him again for inspiration. I thought about naming my business after him, but that seemed too simple. I wanted to infuse his spirit into the brand in a more creative way. I reflected on what colors he would’ve chosen —— he loved all things bright —— but it would’ve mostly been a guess, not a disciplined approach to an answer. 

But what if I could translate his NAME to a color? If Pantone could assign a number to every shade, what if I could, in a similarly systematic way, assign each one a name? I realized OLIVER has 6 letters, just like a HEX code. If I created a substitution cipher, assigning each letter to a corresponding value in a HEX code, I could determine a color that “translates” to the name OLIVER. And if the cipher was for the whole alphabet, I could do it with any 6-letter name. 

THE SOLUTION:

plaintext: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
ciphertext: A B C D E F 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

What’s more, since RGB values are based on HEX codes, I could use RGB to reverse engineer a mystery color into a name. Thus the game was born. Oliver numbered the colors, and I named them. Each color I use in my brand has a name, and it means Oliver’s spirit is infused in any work I do. 

Is this an insane rabbit hole to go down? Yes. Was it the most efficient way to develop a brand? No. Was it meaningful, memorable, and most importantly, a fun project to work on? Yes!

And if you think this type of creativity could work for your brand, or just want to tell me what you think of this whole project, should you get in touch? Absolutely. 

THANKS FOR READING!