It’s hard to imagine walking through an airport, train station, or even a shopping mall without being silently steered by the familiar icons that tell us where to go—where to find a restroom, an elevator, or the baggage claim. These everyday visual cues have become so seamlessly integrated into public life that we rarely stop to ask: who created them? The answer lies in the quiet brilliance of Rajie Cook, a Palestinian-American graphic designer whose revolutionary work still shapes how we move through the world today.
A Name, a Journey, and a Vision
Born Rajie Suleiman in Newark, New Jersey, on July 6, 1930, he was the son of Christian Palestinian immigrants from Ramallah. His surname, like much of his early identity, was shaped by a series of colonialisms and cultural translations—first Turkish, then British, and finally Americanized into “Cook.” Even his first name was changed by a schoolteacher who decided “Rajie” was too difficult, opting instead for “Roger.” But in later years, he reclaimed his original name with pride, grounding his creative spirit in his heritage.
Cook graduated from Pratt Institute in 1953 and was later named its Alumni of the Year. His professional path led him into advertising and design, but it was in 1967—when he co-founded Cook and Shanosky Associates—that his most enduring legacy took shape.
A Universal Language Without Words
In 1974, the U.S. Department of Transportation posed a challenge: how can public spaces be made more accessible to everyone, regardless of language or literacy? Collaborating with the American Institute of Graphic Arts (AIGA), Cook’s firm was selected to design a comprehensive system of pictograms that could be universally understood. What followed was a design revolution.
Drawing from global influences—Tokyo’s airports, the 1972 Munich Olympics—the team created 34 minimalist pictographs that distilled essential information into simple, elegant forms. The generic male and female figures. The cigarette with a red strike-through. The airplane and locomotive. These were not just symbols—they were acts of translation, transforming complex information into immediate understanding.
Cook’s philosophy was clear: clarity over decoration, meaning over embellishment. “Design communicates to its maximum efficacy without frills,” he wrote. These symbols weren’t just beautiful; they worked.
The Helvetica of Pictograms
These signs, often dubbed “the Helvetica of pictograms” for their clean, efficient lines and widespread adoption, are still in use today. In 2003, the “Symbol Signs” project was inducted into the collections of the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum and The Smithsonian Institution, sealing its place in design history.
It’s no exaggeration to say that Cook’s work changed the way we interact with our environment. His symbols removed linguistic barriers, democratizing access to information in public spaces across the globe. In an age before smartphones and Google Translate, these little icons were quietly revolutionary.
Beyond the Signs: Art, Activism, and Identity
Yet Cook was not just a designer of signs. As his firm wound down in the early 2000s, he began creating three-dimensional sculptural boxes—assemblages made of found objects that reflected his political consciousness and deep concern for the Middle East. Many of these works were inspired by his trips to Israel, Gaza, and the West Bank, where he served on a Presbyterian Church task force for human rights. These boxes were intimate and provocative, a sharp contrast to the silent neutrality of his signage.
Cook used these works to grapple with the conditions faced by Palestinians, infusing his art with narratives of displacement, occupation, and resilience. They stood as personal testimonies—small yet profound acts of remembrance and resistance.
The Man with More Connoisseurs than van Gogh
Despite his profound contributions, Rajie Cook remained largely unknown outside design circles. He once joked that more people had seen his work than a Matisse or van Gogh—not in galleries, but in elevators and restrooms. And he was right. His artistry was not hung on museum walls (though it eventually was) but lived in transit hubs, hospitals, and city streets, working quietly and efficiently in the background.
Cook passed away on February 6, 2021, in Newtown, Pennsylvania. He left behind more than a design legacy; he left a universal language. A system that does not discriminate, that speaks instantly to everyone, and that continues to shape how we interact with the built environment.
In a world often divided by words, Rajie Cook gave us symbols—monochrome, minimalist, and profoundly human—that speak louder than any language ever could.
A Name, a Journey, and a Vision
Born Rajie Suleiman in Newark, New Jersey, on July 6, 1930, he was the son of Christian Palestinian immigrants from Ramallah. His surname, like much of his early identity, was shaped by a series of colonialisms and cultural translations—first Turkish, then British, and finally Americanized into “Cook.” Even his first name was changed by a schoolteacher who decided “Rajie” was too difficult, opting instead for “Roger.” But in later years, he reclaimed his original name with pride, grounding his creative spirit in his heritage.
Cook graduated from Pratt Institute in 1953 and was later named its Alumni of the Year. His professional path led him into advertising and design, but it was in 1967—when he co-founded Cook and Shanosky Associates—that his most enduring legacy took shape.
In 1974 Cook & Shanosky Associates (Rajie Cook & Don Shanosky) won a contract to develop a set of symbols that could be universally understood. The signage the two came up with, 34 pictographs (with others added later), is still in use today. pic.twitter.com/qbu8gCrztG
— Wences Sanz-Alonso (@stereochromo) November 18, 2022
A Universal Language Without Words
In 1974, the U.S. Department of Transportation posed a challenge: how can public spaces be made more accessible to everyone, regardless of language or literacy? Collaborating with the American Institute of Graphic Arts (AIGA), Cook’s firm was selected to design a comprehensive system of pictograms that could be universally understood. What followed was a design revolution.
Drawing from global influences—Tokyo’s airports, the 1972 Munich Olympics—the team created 34 minimalist pictographs that distilled essential information into simple, elegant forms. The generic male and female figures. The cigarette with a red strike-through. The airplane and locomotive. These were not just symbols—they were acts of translation, transforming complex information into immediate understanding.
Cook’s philosophy was clear: clarity over decoration, meaning over embellishment. “Design communicates to its maximum efficacy without frills,” he wrote. These symbols weren’t just beautiful; they worked.
The Helvetica of Pictograms
These signs, often dubbed “the Helvetica of pictograms” for their clean, efficient lines and widespread adoption, are still in use today. In 2003, the “Symbol Signs” project was inducted into the collections of the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum and The Smithsonian Institution, sealing its place in design history.
It’s no exaggeration to say that Cook’s work changed the way we interact with our environment. His symbols removed linguistic barriers, democratizing access to information in public spaces across the globe. In an age before smartphones and Google Translate, these little icons were quietly revolutionary.
Beyond the Signs: Art, Activism, and Identity
Yet Cook was not just a designer of signs. As his firm wound down in the early 2000s, he began creating three-dimensional sculptural boxes—assemblages made of found objects that reflected his political consciousness and deep concern for the Middle East. Many of these works were inspired by his trips to Israel, Gaza, and the West Bank, where he served on a Presbyterian Church task force for human rights. These boxes were intimate and provocative, a sharp contrast to the silent neutrality of his signage.
Cook used these works to grapple with the conditions faced by Palestinians, infusing his art with narratives of displacement, occupation, and resilience. They stood as personal testimonies—small yet profound acts of remembrance and resistance.
"Guernica in Gaza", Rajie Cook, 2008 pic.twitter.com/keTAKq6k4t
— B.M. (@ireallyhateyou) July 13, 2024
The Man with More Connoisseurs than van Gogh
Despite his profound contributions, Rajie Cook remained largely unknown outside design circles. He once joked that more people had seen his work than a Matisse or van Gogh—not in galleries, but in elevators and restrooms. And he was right. His artistry was not hung on museum walls (though it eventually was) but lived in transit hubs, hospitals, and city streets, working quietly and efficiently in the background.
Cook passed away on February 6, 2021, in Newtown, Pennsylvania. He left behind more than a design legacy; he left a universal language. A system that does not discriminate, that speaks instantly to everyone, and that continues to shape how we interact with the built environment.
In a world often divided by words, Rajie Cook gave us symbols—monochrome, minimalist, and profoundly human—that speak louder than any language ever could.
You may also like
Steve Bannon says Pope Leo's election shocking, predicts Trump would definitely clash with him
'My boyfriend and I both use this £15 non-greasy Boots face sunscreen on holiday'
Punjab traced Rs 1,549-crore transactions of bogus bills, says minister
Virat Deserves Credit For The Way He Transformed Indian Team In Tests, Says Bhuvneshwar Kumar
Rebecca Yarros fans work out Fourth Wing character is 'still alive' - but there's a twist
