My home went from rural farming village to the Birthplace of the American Industrial Revolution to dying mill town to living history national park to exurb of Boston, where all the old mill buildings have been converted to lofts, coffee shops, and yoga studios. If anyone cards cotton in Lowell anymore, they do it in secrecy and terror.
Lowell’s seal was adopted in 1891 and you can see that it’s pretty busy, with bales of cotton and belching black smoke. Does it really capture the city’s essence in 2021? No.
Instead, we are ably represented here by this faceless, anxious, bald amputee.
I think Lowell’s next incarnation could be as a Weimar bastion of despair—with concurrent surge in art and debauchery—so I’ve designed this new logo using the art of Georg Groß, who painted this untitled piece in Berlin in 1920.