For fifty years, William Stout Architectural Books has quietly held court on the edge of San Francisco’s historic Jackson Square, a haven for architects, designers, and collectors in search of the thoughtful and the rare. Founded by Bill Stout in 1974, the shop is more than a bookseller, it’s a cultural landmark, a kind of analogue salon for the architecture community. Its stacked inventory of monographs, theory titles, and long-out-of-print volumes has lured everyone from local students to international starchitects.
Now, as the bookstore begins a new era under the stewardship of the Eames Institute of Infinite Curiosity, it has also undergone a careful visual transformation, courtesy of its neighbour, LoveFrom.
Founded by Sir Jony Ive and Marc Newson, the design collective is better known for global collaborations with Ferrari, Airbnb, and Apple. But in this case, proximity and personal affection guided the work.
The bookstore’s original brand presence, such as it was, had grown organically—signage, typefaces, and visual elements accumulated over decades. There was no formal logo, and when the team discovered they’d run out of stickers to label books, it signaled time for a reset. LoveFrom responded by constructing a new identity around the idiosyncratic spirit of the store, treating it not as a corporate project but as an act of conservation.
Typographer Antonio Cavedoni, part of the LoveFrom team, began by examining the type used on the store’s vintage sign, Washington, a 1970 font with geometric elegance and Art Deco leanings. Rather than discard it, they refined it: correcting proportions, lowering the midline, and introducing custom ligatures that nod to modernist architectural signage without feeling beholden to any single era. The result: LF Washington, a bespoke font that balances personality and precision.
The typography comes to life most vividly on a new enamel-and-steel sign designed and fabricated by LoveFrom’s product team, a sleek square emblem that feels both entirely new and deeply rooted. A palette of black, white, and muted red grounds the identity, supplemented by color cues from Le Corbusier’s Architectural Polychromy, lending warmth and nuance without nostalgia.
Alongside the typography, illustration plays a key role. Illustrator Satoshi Hashimoto was commissioned to render the storefront, and its surroundings, in a charming seasonal loop, creating a digital experience as tactile and engaging as the physical store. Details change with time of year. A tree blossoms, then turns bare. A small bird perches in different spots, serving as a hidden portal to the Eames Institute’s website.
Hashimoto also created a stylized portrait of Bill Stout, now affectionately used across the shop’s packaging and merchandise. “It gives the identity a sense of continuity,” Wilson notes. “Bill may no longer be behind the counter, but his presence still anchors the space.”
The Eames Institute, which acquired the store and its vast personal library in 2022, sees the project as both preservation and progression. “This is about carrying forward a design institution while inviting a new generation into the fold,” says Lauren Smith, the Institute’s chief experience officer.
Plans are already in motion for further programming, a publishing revival, traveling bookstore van, public talks, and archival exhibitions. The redesign, in this light, is not just about how the store looks. It’s about how it lives.
