For Milton, design—the formal practice and intuitive alchemy of employing form, color and pattern for the betterment of the human condition—was an act of good citizenship. Over the course of many decades, he extolled the virtue of the designer as being a “good citizen”—of doing “no harm” and hopefully producing a “worthy outcome.” As his age advanced, so did his impatience for meaninglessness, manipulation and triviality, which had grown into a cause to educate other artists and designers to recant commerce as an end in itself. While maintaining his sense of joy and pleasure in using “good” design that conveyed conscientious messages and pronouncements, he was insistent that during the time he had left, he wanted all designers—students and professionals—to make consequential contributions.

This shined through in his course for MFA Design, the SVA program that I co-chair with Lita Talarico. From the moment he came aboard in 2002, we gave him carte blanche to do whatever he wished, and a palpable force took hold that emanated from his classroom and coursed through his students’ bodies and souls. Most were intimidated yet elated to work on projects that gave them the opportunity to alter their worldview. Milton’s class was never about design detached from the world. Although he had made his share of pretty things, pretty was never the end goal. Beauty was something to strive for, but obliterating clichés and stereotypes was his mission. In a recent remembrance, an MFA Design alumnus and former student recalled an initial class assignment by Milton: to “represent the idea of light.” Everyone came in with a variation of a light bulb. Milton’s response to this was an emphatic No. “Think of what light means to you,” he would say. “Not what the dictionary says it is.” Simple challenges like that begat transformative results.

At MFA Design, we did not want to overburden Milton with an endless line of students anxious to grab his ear and devour his wisdom. We mistakenly thought that we were his protectors, but as any SVA chair or faculty member will agree, he made himself generously available to all who had something to say. There were few restrictions. When Deborah Adler (MFA 2002 Design) sought in vain to convince Target to adopt her revolutionary prescription drug package and labeling system, Clear Rx, Milton helped her cut through the bureaucracy. This was not the first time he cleared paths for young designers in whom he had faith.

Milton was an exceptional person—a rabbi and thinker. I did not always agree with him on all points. But he was always so self-assured that I did believe he had to be right, whether I was mature enough to understand or not. During the coming days, weeks, months and years that he will be mourned (and missed), I trust that things he said and work he’s done will become even clearer in my mind. Hopefully, too, all those thousands of people he’s inspired will spread his gospel, too. To Milton, I say so long, but not goodbye. Even in death we are always going to be calling upon him for advice and wisdom. Eternal rest? I doubt it!

The co-chair of SVA's MFA Design program pays tribute to a cherished colleague.