It's a wonder that there is no loon on the Minnesota state flag. Nor is there a kitchen sink, but there's just about everything else. The designers of the flag, and of the state seal that plays a prominent role on it, clearly held the view that more is better. Adopted in 1893, the flag incorporates so many design elements that it's hard to imagine what it is supposed to convey.

Six lady's slippers (flowers, not footwear), 19 stars, three pine trees, three historical dates, the state motto (rendered in French), a waterfall, a Native American on horseback, a white farmer, a plowed field, a sunset, a tree stump … and oh yes, the word MINNESOTA.

The most easily discerned message of the seal and flag is the most troubling one: that the state's identity comes from the departure of the original inhabitants and the arrival of the settlers who subdued the land. The Native rider is leaving, and the white farmer is literally putting down roots. Other nuggets of meaning are more obscure — like the 19 stars that are supposed to represent Minnesota's place in the order of states admitted to the Union.

Wait — wasn't Minnesota the 32nd state? Yes, but it was the 19th to follow the original 13. That point may have been easily grasped in 1893, but it's a bit esoteric today.

Although state law makes it a misdemeanor to cast contempt on the flag, we will go out on a limb and call it outdated, outmoded, inaccurate, muddled and much too busy. Not only that, it's unattractive. So it is an unambiguously good thing that a State Emblems Redesign Commission is hard at work on a new seal and flag.

The Legislature created the commission and charged it with devising new designs by Jan. 1. Some commission members are already talking about asking for an extension, which seems reasonable, considering its mandate. The law says the new emblems "must accurately and respectfully reflect Minnesota's shared history, resources, and diverse cultural communities."

That's a tall order, especially given the widely accepted notion that a successful flag should be simple. Less is more. If you try to convey too many ideas, what you get is not so much a flag as a quilt, or maybe a mural. A more helpful part of the law's text forbids the use of symbols that represent "only a single community or person."

The task is imperative but daunting: Design a flag and a seal that can represent everyone, at a time when people seem hopelessly divided. These days, precious few values can meet the standard of universal public support. Pristine natural resources? Tell that to underemployed miners. Democracy? Not when huge numbers of voters think the last election was stolen.

The North Star that inspires the "L'Étoile du Nord" motto might be a useful image for Minnesota's flag, were it not already featured on Alaska's. Our state bird, the loon, is another logical candidate, but it's in danger of overuse — see the logos of the Minnesota United soccer team and the Minnesota Lottery, both of which, as it happens, also incorporate a (presumably North) star.

Last month, the New York Times explored principles of flag design and told the story of Utah's attempt to remake its flag. Utah's design team came up with a vastly improved, more easily recognizable emblem. Even so, citizens organized to "save Utah's flag" and put the issue to voters. Utah's governor, Spencer Cox, said the political backlash caught him by surprise. "There are just a lot of people that are worried that things are changing too rapidly in our country," he told the Times.

Some of our fellow Minnesotans may harbor similar sentiments. We hope the new state seal and flag will draw enough support from different quarters to head off any such reflexive opposition and bring more Minnesotans together. And we hope that the new flag is simple enough, and clear enough, that citizens will know why they like it — or even why they don't.