Neon Signs Through a Graphic Designer’s Eye

This blog post is an adapted and shortened version of my talk given at the MOME Grafika Est on September 11, 2026.

My fascination with neon signs began with the realization that many of these old symbols and signs were, first and foremost, well-designed logos, carefully considered pieces of typography, and visual solutions that had stood the test of time.

Photo: A selection of figurative neon signs, photos by László Zsótér

Photos: Tobacco shops in the 1970s, photographed by László Zsótér (left), and a National Tobacco Shop today (right)

Put simply, many of these neon signs worked so well because they were built on strong graphic foundations. Neon advertisements often borrowed the forms of already existing logos and symbols created by talented Hungarian designers.

At the time, applied graphic design work was often carried out by graphic artists and painters, so a high level of drawing skill and visual culture naturally contributed to the quality of the final result.

In the 1970s, marketing strategy did not really exist in the sense we understand it today, yet some brands used the same visual elements across different platforms with remarkable consistency.

Orion is one of my favourite logos, designed by József Bottlik. It is a slight exception here, since the logo was created as early as 1925. It features three stylised faces and was designed for a brand producing televisions and radios. Beautiful posters were created around it, and the design worked brilliantly as a neon sign as well.

During the socialist era, brands often used playful, friendly characters as logos or mascots.

One example is Lottó Ottó, the mascot of Totó-Lottó, the state lottery, designed by János Macskássy. The same character appeared on posters, in television commercials – Gyula Kabos’s coat covered in lottery slips is especially brilliant – and, of course, on neon signs.

Csemege was the logo of a Hungarian grocery store chain. Its typographic basket shape translated beautifully into neon tubing, while on posters it was even paired with the image of a scantily dressed woman. The logo was designed by Gábor Pál.

Omnia was a coffee brand whose logo featured a coffee-bean-like character designed by Sándor Lengyel. The figure also appeared on packaging and in shop interiors. One particularly clever detail was that on the decaffeinated version, the character held a small red heart, while on the regular packaging it held a red cup.

Patyolat was a laundry and dry-cleaning service, and since the word itself evokes spotless whiteness and cleanliness, the white swan was a perfect symbol for the brand. The logo was designed by Klára Bambera.

Beyond these strong graphic foundations, of course, many people were involved in actually producing the neon signs. One of the major manufacturers was the Neon Equipment Manufacturing Company, which I wrote about in more detail [here] – the link also includes a fantastic photo series.

A single neon sign required the coordinated work of draughtsmen, glassworkers, tinsmiths and electricians. In addition, a neon committee made up of architects, engineers and graphic designers reviewed the designs and decided whether a sign met the required quality standards.

Alongside logos and symbols, city streets were also filled with countless illuminated wordmarks and signs. Typographically, these can roughly be divided into two categories: handwritten or script-style lettering, and lettering based on printed typeforms.

The handwritten style was one of the most common. The streets were full of dynamic, beautifully drawn neon lettering, although these signs were heavily criticised when they first appeared.

The sudden spread of handwriting-inspired signage may indeed have felt unusual at the time, but from today’s perspective, concerns that children would no longer learn to write or read properly because of them seem somewhat exaggerated. Others simply believed that these signs damaged the appearance of the city.

Photos: A selection of beautifully designed ligatures, Fortepan.

Photos: A selection of neon signs featuring handwritten-style typography, Fortepan

Although I naturally disagree with these concerns, I also collected a few less successful examples.

On the Papír Írószer sign, for example, the initial P looks more like a C, so at first glance it could easily be read as “Csapír Írószer.” Sikk means chic, elegant or fashionable, but frankly, this sign is anything but chic. The letter spacing on the Mézes Mackó Espresso sign is not particularly successful from a professional point of view, yet I still really like the final result. The S in Szalon is rather awkward, while the sign next to it took me several attempts to decipher. Szántód rév could just as easily be read as “Szántód tér,” and the way the upper strokes of the s and z are connected in Látszerész is not exactly the most elegant solution either.

Photo: A selection of neon signs with less successful typography, Fortepan

A particularly distinctive feature of Hungarian signage is the Hungarian double acute, or hungarumlaut: the double accent used on the letters Ő and Ű. These tiny forms are quite difficult to bend from glass tubing, so a wide variety of solutions can be found.

On the Kesztyű sign, for example, the accent is made from a single piece, while in Női fodrász the entire character was formed from one continuous glass tube. The accents in Műhímző resemble a horizontal figure eight or infinity symbol, making the word look more like “mühimzö.” On the Petőfi könyvesbolt sign, two different solutions can be seen, while my personal favourite is Női cipő, where the result is completely unique – a little strange, but that is exactly what makes it so good.

Photo: A selection of neon signs with hungarumlaut (ő,ű), Fortepan

In the case of the FÜRDŐ sign, the gap between the accents and the vertical strokes of the letters was simply painted in. Up close, the trick is clearly visible, but from street level the word remains perfectly legible without passers-by ever noticing this small “cheat.”

I also brought a few examples of signs based on printed letterforms.

I still have not managed to identify the typeface used for the Kristály büfé sign – to me, it looks a little like it is trying to imitate some kind of vaguely “Native American” display typeface – while in the case of Kávé–Tea, it is clear that the designer was aiming for some kind of Asian-inspired effect.

In other cases, the uniqueness of the lettering came directly from technological limitations. On the Kézimunka sign, for example, every single letter was made from one continuous glass tube. The side view image shows particularly well how unusual the K and E became as a result.

Another characteristic technique was a kind of “hatching”: instead of bending a single tube to form the full letter shape, several parallel straight tubes were placed next to one another. This probably also helped increase the brightness.

Photo: A selection of neon signs with "hatching", Fortepan and neonvadaszat.blogspot

Although this type of neon sign looks fantastic, the more separate tube sections a sign contains, the greater the chance that one of them will fail – something that can unfortunately be seen quite often in period photographs as well.

 

If there is a sign or logo you think is missing from this selection, feel free to send it to me – I’d love to see your favourites too.