By Landesberg Design | April 2, 2026

Good design is often the result of good reading. Here's our latest offering of insight, info, and intrigue. Indulge.

Get Lost

by Tim Madle, Creative Director

Illustration Credit: Tim Madle

The future we were promised looks something like this: every option available, every preference accounted for, every choice optimized. Infinite streaming libraries. All food options within a five-mile radius delivered to your door. An algorithm that knows what you want, before you do.

And yet. 

Some of the best things I’ve found weren’t what I was after. The book I walked out with instead of the one I’d gone in for, pulled a few spots over on the shelf. An evening I didn’t plan—stuck in an unfamiliar city after a meeting ran long—wandering a museum to experience paintings I’d only ever seen in print. An entire afternoon checking nothing off my to-do’s because I ran into an old friend I didn’t realize I missed.

In design, we’re told friction is the enemy, but I’m not convinced. Friction is where the good stuff lives. It slows you down just enough to notice the things that matter. 

The work I’m most proud of almost always comes from constraints so severe they rule out everything easy. Constraints aren’t obstacles—they’re where the work finds its shape. They make solutions feel like they were always there. Not invented, but found.

I’ve been getting lost on purpose lately. Nothing dramatic—walking or biking whenever I can, leaving the GPS off, and taking the streets that look interesting instead of the most direct. There’s something about not knowing exactly where you are, and trusting you’ll find your way without needing to see the whole route from the beginning. It breaks the habit of accepting what’s in front of you as the answer.

We were promised that anything is possible. I’m not sure I want that.

I want the right thing to be possible—the unexpected thing that feels inevitable once you see it. The book you weren’t going to pick up, but can’t put down. The wrong turn that’s exactly where you needed to go. The design solution that suddenly seems obvious because, how could it be anything else? 

Sometimes the algorithm gets it right. But the best things—the things that stay with you—usually arrive when you aren’t optimizing.

When you’re just open.

Paying attention.

Willing to get a little lost.

Pitt Public Health Magazine

Overview. The University of Pittsburgh School of Public Health partnered with Landesberg Design to create a new alumni publication—one that reflects the school’s intellectual leadership and evolving role in public health. The result, Pitt Public Health Magazine, is a twice-yearly publication that brings together research, practice, and storytelling in a clear, accessible format.

Approach. Editorially, the magazine translates complex public health challenges into human-centered stories, balancing rigor with readability. Profiles, features, and thematic content frame the school’s impact through both data and lived experience. A clean, flexible design system supports this range—using typography, imagery, and pacing to maintain clarity while reflecting the school’s warmth and collaborative spirit.

Outcome. The magazine strengthens alumni engagement while elevating the school’s voice—creating a more cohesive and compelling narrative around its impact and future.

1. Paper Worlds

Photo Credit: Zelia Williams

Zelia Williams, 14, daughter of Office Manager Debra Williams, has created what she calls “Analog Video Games”—interactive, paper-based adventures.

Each one is built entirely by hand—written, illustrated, colored, and cut piece by piece. As she describes it: “The character in play remains stationary as the realm is moved manually on top of it. Each game is a world to be explored—a place to create and tell stories.”

What started as a simple diversion has grown into a fully realized world—one she and her friends can step into, rearrange, and make their own.

See (and hear) one of her games in action at this link.

2. Still in Progress

Photo Credit: Boston Public Library

Creative Director Tim Madle’s favorite part of the recent CASE Editors Forum in Boston wasn’t the sharp sessions, the expensed meals, or even taking the stage twice. It was the art and activism exhibit at the Boston Public Library, just across the street.

Spanning 250 years, the show mixes paintings, prints, photographs, and protest ephemera to trace how rights and representation have expanded—and who’s been left out along the way. Posters and hand-made signs sit alongside formal works, collapsing the distance between art and action.

The exhibit design itself feels deliberately unfinished—plywood and scaffolding instead of traditional walls—reinforcing the idea that the work, and the story, are still ongoing.

On view through April 21, and well worth seeing if you’re in Boston.

3. Built to Last

Photo Credit: University of Pittsburgh

This year marks the 100th anniversary of the Nationality Rooms at the University of Pittsburgh—a collection of classrooms within the Cathedral of Learning that reflect the cultural traditions of the immigrant communities who shaped the city.

Conceived in 1926 and funded by local ethnic groups, each room represents a distinct heritage. Today, there are 31 rooms—still used as classrooms, where students engage not only with academic subjects, but with the histories embedded in the spaces themselves.

Photo Credit: University of Pittsburgh

A yearlong series of exhibitions, tours, and public programs invites both the university community and the public to reflect on the Rooms’ origins while considering their continued relevance.

One hundred years on, the Nationality Rooms remain a living expression of Pittsburgh’s identity.

Tadao Arimoto

Pittsburgh, PA

Photo Credit: Tadao Arimoto

Tadao Arimoto is a Japanese-born woodworker whose decades-long practice in Pittsburgh reflects a deep respect for material and process. Trained in industrial design in Kyoto, he approaches wood not as something to control, but to understand—allowing grain, edge, and imperfection to shape each piece.

His work moves between function and sculpture. Tables, benches, and architectural elements are designed for use, yet carry a quiet, contemplative presence. Rather than impose rigid geometry, Arimoto draws from natural forms—creating pieces that feel discovered as much as designed.

Over time, his work has become part of Pittsburgh’s built environment, appearing in homes, institutions, and public spaces. Recognized as a master visual artist, his legacy is defined less by a signature style than by a way of working—patient, attentive, and grounded in material.

Explore more at his website.