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Archived posts: Graphics

The New Design Museum

So, as you may well know, the Design Museum in London is planning to move from its current home in Shad Thames right across town, and into the former Commonwealth Institute building, at “the wrong end of a Kensington shopping street” as architecture critic Stephen Bayley has previously put it.

 

The move won’t happen until 2014, but in the meantime, the museum’s latest newsletter has asked the design community to give some feedback on their proposals to the local council, the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea. Unfortunately, the planning department has hosted the files in a way that really doesn’t invite much feedback, but it might be worth wading through them.

High Street Kensington does seem like a slightly strange place for the Design Museum to move to – it’s not really a part of town you immediately think of when you think about design – and that’s despite the presence of the Royal College of Art, and slightly further away the V&A. But the building is quite groovy, and they’ve got John Pawson on-board for the remodelling, so there’ll be stacks of clean white spaces to enjoy. And the plans do involve far more exhibition space, as well as lots more education space, which can only be a good thing.

And heck, how great would it be if there was space for a permanent collection of British graphic design?

Eleanor Crow on variations on a theme

~ While Alistair is away cycling the length of Great Britain, we’ve invited twenty disgustingly talented people to each write a post for our blog. Today’s post is from the quite marvellous book designer Eleanor Crow. ~

It might indicate borderline stamp collecting syndrome, but an ephemera spotter can find a good visual multiple to be irresistible. This True-Fit Seat Covers postcard (©1987 Quantity Postcards, San Francisco), sent by a friend (thanks Clare), is one such example. The variations in weave pattern and colour of the textiles are a delight.

And another card Outils de Jardinage (©1995 Editions du Désastre, France) is of interest not only because I’ve recently been allotted an allotment, but for the charming comparison of prong, spike and blade on the humble garden tool.

My battered copy of Dictionnaire Usuel par le texte et par l’image (Librairies Quillet-Flammarion, Paris 1956) relies heavily on visual multiples. I cannot think that I might urgently need to compare timber grains from European trees in the immediate future, but this mis-registered depiction of their subtle variations in pattern and colour is enough to merit more than a glance. The stuttering speckled lines of the Platane, or plane tree, is particularly lovely.

Similarly, the Dictionnaire Usuel’s colour plate of horse types is deeply appealing to even the equine ignoramus. The horses face in rows alternately to the left and the right, in uniform threes, until the last line where the tiny Shetland pony has snuck in as a rebellious fourth, and persuaded its tall friends to break with the rhythm and face to the left.

This colour plate from one of my favourite costume reference books, A Pictorial History of Costume (©1955 Zwemmer, Germany) provides a colourful display of historic oriental footwear in all its embroidered and sculpted glory – a museum display at a glance.

It’s precisely this idea of comparison at a glance that makes such multiples both informative and a visual delight. Information designers rely on such techniques – creating ‘small multiples’, a term popularised and described with characteristic elegance by Edward R. Tufte in Envisioning Information(©1990 Graphics Press, Connecticut). He writes of ‘small multiple designs, multivariate and data bountiful’ that enforce visual comparisons and ‘demonstrate the scope of alternatives’.

Here’s a page from the legendary Rookledge’s Classic International Typefinder (©1983 PBC International, New York), demonstrating the special ‘earmarks’ or distinctive identifying features of typefaces. Technically useful, it’s also visually arresting in an abstract way with its array of Vs and Ws pinned to the page like butterfly wings.

But it’s not just the small multiple that appeals when enjoying a good visual comparison – spotting a difference-spotter spotting the difference can be fun too. Here’s a 1950s Du Pont employee investigating weather wear across varying paint samples (from the March 1956 edition of Fortune magazine). It’s the contrast of his sombre figure angled across the serried ranks of colour hues that gives this image its charm.

 

~ Alistair is raising money for Cancer Research UK during his ride – please wander over to his Just Giving page and donate a little cash. ~

Paul Finn on Georges Perec

~ While Alistair is away cycling the length of Great Britain, we’ve invited twenty disgustingly talented people to each write a post for our blog. Today’s post is from the very wonderful graphic designer and design teacher Paul Finn. ~

I am fascinated by the French writer Georges Perec (1936—1982). I first read Species of Spaces and Other Pieces (1974) and was hooked. It instantly appealed to my typographic sensibilities; the opening pages are striking, the homage to Lewis Carroll’s Hunting Of The Snark empty ‘Map of the Ocean’ to the exploratory ‘Space’ poem (above) are inspiring.

The first chapter ‘The Page’ is an enquiry into the physicality, function, form, design and legacy of the printed page. The layout is playful, experimenting with the formalities and conventions of the page, from the word to the sentence to the margin to the footnote, akin to Stéphane Mallarmé’s Un Coup de Dés Jamais N’Abolira Le Hasard (1897).

The aesthetic and structure of Perec’s 1968 experimental radio play The Machine suggest this interest in typography, layout and function of the page has always been a part of Perec’s practice.

Reading his magnum opus Life, A User’s Manual (1978) is enchanting through its uniqueness and magnitude. It is an exhaustive investigation into the life and times of the inhabitants, past and present, of 11 Rue Simon–Crubellier, a Parisian apartment block: A rich and dense tapestry of multiple narratives, tales, adventures, puzzles, names, dates, seemly blurring fact and fiction… One source of inspiration for Perec was this illustration by Saul Steinberg, which appeared in his book The Art Of Living (1949), it depicts the multiverse accommodated in an New York apartment block.

Whilst reading you become aware of certain elements and devices which suggest  something hiding underneath, a structure, puzzle or game that the reader has unknowingly entered in with the author. It is a fascinating and alluring read.

One intriguing chapter is ominously titled ‘The Fifty-First Chapter’. It is the middle chapter. Perec lists 179 peculiar sentences; some refer to earlier events, some to the future. On closer examination I realised that each sentence contains 60 characters (including spaces), and the pages incorporate two diagonals of aligned ‘g’s, though they are not specifically referred to:

Here I’ve used a red diagonal rule to highlight the aligned ‘g’s:

A friend of mine bought me a copy of David Bellos’ comprehensive Perec biography Georges Perec: A Life in Words(1993), which details in depth the writing process, constraints and methods that Perec employed to write ‘Life, A Users Manual’. The layers of construction further add to the mind blowing achievement of writing such a book. This website exposes all the mind bending constraints Perec used.

One constraint was Perec constructed the novel based on the Knight’s Tour within a chessboard: “The knight is placed on the empty board and, moving according to the rules of chess, must visit each square exactly once”. He divided the apartment block into a 10 X 10 grid and followed the Knights Tours from character to character, room to room, chapter to chapter.

With every novel or piece of writing produced by Perec I cannot help but revere the mind behind it. A Void is a 300 page novel written without the letter ‘e’, working in both it’s native French, and the English translation by Gilbert Adair.

Through Perec’s writing I have discovered the wonders of the Oulipo, the creative processes of imposed parameters, and it has ignited a desire to live in the 17th arrondissement in Paris

 

~ Alistair is raising money for Cancer Research UK during his ride – please wander over to his Just Giving page and donate a little cash. ~

Nick Asbury on Tunnocks

~ While Alistair is away cycling the length of Great Britain, we’ve invited twenty disgustingly talented people to each write a post for our blog. Today’s post is from really-rather-good freelance copywriter Nick Asbury. ~

This is a post about one of the great designers of the last century, whose work helped build one of the best-loved confectionery brands in the world: Tunnock’s.

First, some background.

Tunnock’s have played a big part in my life this year.

It started when someone tweeted about a poem Ted Hughes wrote on a Tunnock’s wrapper back in 1986. It’s now on display in the University of St Andrews, home of the Tunnock’s Appreciation Society (yes, there is one).

This led me to set up an online project called WrapperRhymes, full of poems written on wrappers. Greig Anderson of Effektive Studio created the identity and website. We’re open for submissions if you’re interested.

Later, I stumbled across another example of Tunnock’s-inspired art, this time of the visual kind. It’s an exhibition that took place in Glasgow last year, and it’s quite lovely:

Above: Greyfriar’s Bobby, by Joy Bain

Above: Mr Tunnock, by Callum Thom

Above: More cake? by Fiona Watson

What’s fascinating about all this is that the art takes its cue from the Tunnock’s packaging, rather than the product itself.

Largely unchanged since the 1950s, the wrappers have been key to the brand’s success. It’s not just that they’ve gained a retro appeal over the years. The point is that they were beautiful in the first place, and no one has messed around or ‘refreshed’ them since.

So who designed the Tunnock’s packaging? The packaging that has inspired great art and poems by Poet Laureates? Once again, it’s the work of the most prolific designer in the business – Anonymous.

It’s strange how a lot of the best design work slips out there unattributed and unheralded and is only properly appreciated years later. I’ve read just about every article I can find on Tunnock’s and there’s no mention of any name.

Pause a while and think on that when you’re designing your next logo.

Then have a teacake to cheer yourself up.

[Images from Glasgow Art Exhibition are copyright Glasgow Print Studio]

 

~ Alistair is raising money for Cancer Research UK during his ride – please wander over to his Just Giving page and donate a little cash. ~

Michael Johnson on the future of the Design Council

~ While Alistair is away cycling the length of Great Britain, we’ve invited twenty disgustingly talented people to each write a post for our blog. Today’s post is from the illustrious graphic designer, guitarist, director of design studio Johnson Banks, and ex-D&AD president, Mr Michael Johnson. ~

I recently got a very cheeky email. Its second paragraph read like this: ‘Since you’ve not had time recently to open any emails from us this is your chance to tell us more about your preferences…’

I was initially taken aback by the ‘you naughty boy’ tone. Especially when I realised it had come from The Design Council – an organisation I regularly try to fathom out, online. So, apologies, but their chippy note has prompted me to write one back.

Firstly, some context. If you’re reading this from afar, they’re a UK based organisation that began as the Council for Industrial Design in 1944 and has morphed through many shapes and forms in their history.

My first experiences of them were hugely formative – every teenage trip to London from dreary Derbyshire started or ended at their Haymarket centre in Central London. I begged, borrowed or stole copies of their once seminal magazine Design. ‘The Design Council’ was probably instrumental in making me want to be ‘A Designer’.

Working regularly for them a decade later (which we did from the mid-nineties for about a decade) felt like a huge honour. But throughout that stage, we continually fielded questions about ‘what do they actually do?’ and it’s fair to say that a lot of the design community have been in the dark about the Council’s activities for some time. Some will have noted the Prince Philip Designers Prize along the way, and most 2d designers will have swiftly noted that prize’s preference for engineers, architects and product designers.

In the latest twist, the UK Government’s recent quango review removed their direct funding and made them a charity. The same review axed most of CABE (Commission for Architecture and the Built Environment) apart from Design Review (the bit that reviews major architectural projects whilst still in planning). That’s now been shoehorned into the Design Council and appears to be a kind of sub-set. Confused? You might well be.

This sort-of-merger prompted a recent review of their trustees and they now have, on paper, a team of heavy hitters (including Wayne Hemingway, Deborah Meaden from ‘Dragon’s Den’ and Mark Jones, outgoing director of the V&A). Look a little closer and you start to spot a few trends. The 3d/Architecture bias is now very notable – 4 out of 12 are architect/built environment people (5 if you count Hemingway). And the whole ‘engineering’ thing isn’t going away soon – the new chairman also chairs the Engineers Employers Federation. 3 out of 12 are entrepreneurs. Only two are regularly designing. And precisely none of them are graphic designers.

That the Design Council doesn’t really see Graphic Designers as core doesn’t come as a great surprise (given that rumours of their requests for free pitches on projects are now legendary). Historically they’ve rarely looked to or celebrated our sector, and that seems unlikely to change. Where that leaves any coherent ‘voice’ for graphics and branding in the UK is anyone’s guess of course – with no printed Design Week, D&AD by definition spread across many disciplines (and increasingly international) and a lack of clarity around organisations such as the Chartered Society of Designers, it’s not looking good. One can only look at US-based organisations such as the AIGA and feel just a little bit jealous.

But away from graphics, what are they planning next? Recently they’ve told us what they’ve done in their ‘first 100 days’ and sure enough many voices including David Cameron’s are claiming to see design as a priority (‘Our biggest ambitions have got to be for innovation’). But if this government is going to truly champion design, there’s not much evidence, yet.

So I’ve read ‘the story so far’, but I’m left frustrated. I want them to go a lot further. I think, to many, the Council has become too intangible – public-facing projects on the ground like Millennium Products and (dare I say it) the swing tag at least gave them a face.

 

All those endless reports on skills, interdepartmental talking-shops and obscure initiatives in Cornwall? All very well, but surely only relevant to a previous life of lip service to Westminster paymasters.

Now, it has to justify itself in a different way and show what design can do. If ‘good design’ is its cause, how does it react, as a charity? Proper charities are great at this – I’m clear what Save the Children does. But is it clear what the Design Council stands for?

I think it needs to intervene, interject and interpose. It needs to engage, have opinions, spark debate. It needs to put its head above the parapet and be prepared to say what is and isn’t good design again, to ruffle feathers, to create controversy if needs be. If we are to ‘give’ to this cause, we need some very good reasons to do so, and that’s the immediate task this new Design Council faces. If it doesn’t manage to make ‘design’ understood, valued and vital, it fails, and perhaps (though I hesitate to say it), it dies.

This is the chance to get design back into the key ‘stem’ educational pillars of science, technology and engineering and ensure that DT stays not only in the curriculums of our schools but develops and encourages the next generation. If we don’t do this, if we don’t regain respect for design, we’ve failed an entire post-war generation of designers and educationalists who struggled very hard to get design thinking into boardrooms and universities and finally taken seriously.

Many of us still go dewy-eyed for The Design Council we remember – there’s a vast legacy of respect and goodwill for those memories. And there’s a huge, untapped resource out there, but the Council hasn’t really asked, or consulted them for years. The creative industries are London’s second biggest employer, a ‘global hub of creativity’ that Governments love to talk up, but hate to support with anything remotely tangible.

But if ‘design’ in the public eye remains just those toe-curling spots in The Apprentice (you know, the ones where packaging designers create awful stuff overnight and ‘Sir Alan’ puts the boot in) then heaven help us all.

So, since the Design Council hasn’t had time recently to ask us what we want from them, let’s use this blog to tell them what they should believe in, what we’d like them to do, and how they should do it. I’ve said my bit – what do you think?

Clare Skeats on Foundation

~ While Alistair is away cycling the length of Great Britain, we’ve invited twenty disgustingly talented people to each write a post for our blog. Today’s post is from the marvellous Clare Skeats – an incredible book designer, and brilliant design teacher. ~

Since 2009, I’ve been lucky enough to work as an Associate Lecturer on the Central Saint Martins Foundation Course in Art & Design. This involves leaving my stress-inducing desk for a day each week and immersing myself in the creative educations of 30 or so young people. For those of you who don’t know, Foundation is the year of study (usually undertaken around age 19) in which students experience learning in every art and design discipline, before deciding what to specialise in for a BA. Its main objective is as much to de-programme school conditioning, as it is to inform, provoke, equip and inspire.

I often find myself having to explain to people who have not come through an art or design education, what, exactly, the point of Foundation is. A frequently occurring question is ‘why do they need to do that?’. Fair point. Why should it take a year longer to graduate in jewellery design than say, marine biology? Doubts aside, almost everyone I speak to who has done this year of study (myself included), cite it as one of the most vital, pivotal and enjoyable years of their education. But it’s a year that is quickly overlooked – it’s the support act for the more talked-about BA. It’s also no secret that some Foundation courses are facing closure due to funding. So I wanted to use my 15 minutes in the We Made This spotlight to celebrate this stage in an artist’s or designer’s development and explain why I think it’s so special.

One of the first things we have to do on the course is to get students over their fears – fears of a new place (often a new country), new people, a new way of working – and one excellent (if unlikely) way of doing this is to get them to do something where we deny them an element or two of their control.

These two objects (above and top) are the results of an exercise where the students were asked to sculpt an elephant from clay, in 30 seconds with their hands behind their backs. When restrictions such as these are imposed, it’s impossible not to produce something with this much honesty and charm – it’s such a pure and uninhibited response to a creative brief. The laughter that ensues when these roughly-hewn grey lumps are offered up, represents a significant threshold of the first few days experience.

A major requirement of Foundation students is for them to keep a sketchbook. A Foundation sketchbook is instantly recognisable by its bulging form. It is the fertile receptacle of ideas, inspiration, tests, mistakes, frustrations and triumphs.

I love the sense of urgency and spontaneity that comes across in this spread by Sing Yu Chan (progressing to BA Fashion Design Technology (Menswear) at London College of Fashion); the instant visual connection he makes between the reference on the left and its hasty translation to cardboard and string weaving samples in the centre.

This impressive escalation of an idea (below), which grew from an exercise in folding a sheet of paper, is another example of sketchbook brilliance from Yang Yang (progressing to BA Costume Design at Wimbledon College of Art). It demonstrates so succinctly how a sketchbook can give a platform to the most ambitious (if ephemeral) creative plans.

One of the things I get most excited about with teaching at this level, is the scale of ideas that can be suggested through the most humble of materials.

This rather unassuming-looking object by Florence Lam (progressing to BA Fine Art at Central Saint Martins) was produced in response to a visit to a recent exhibition of South African photography at the V&A. The black line (which is intended to be continuous – encircling the floor, walls and ceiling of the gallery space), is intended as a comment on Apartheid. I was surprised by my reaction to this piece when I saw it – yes it’s just some bits of foam board and black paint – but peering through the miniature doorway, it was so easy to imagine oneself in this impossibly cavernous and divided space. The scale is so perfectly judged and the whole piece is so much more than the sum of its parts – it’s an unexpectedly powerful expression of an idea from very limited means.

Another masterful deployment of basic materials can be found in these wonderful, organic, pod-like objects from Yao Wang (also progressing to BA Fine Art at Central Saint Martins). Who knew that a balloon, a bucket, Plaster of Paris and physics could produce such beautiful forms?

When I was speaking to Yao, shortly after her prototype stage, she had an urge to remove the shreds of balloon – an understandable drive to ‘finish’ the project as she’d first intended. But we decided that the unforeseen beauty of the red latex stretched over the smooth plaster was way too interesting and so ‘finishing’ the project in its most conventional sense became completely unimportant. Whilst we try to instil a disciplined approach with a focus on pragmatic problem solving – it is these unexpectedly brilliant outcomes and deviations that keep the students open to possibilities and reminds us as tutors not to be too rigid.

Allowing students the flexibility to bend rules is always a difficult one to judge. On the one hand, we put time and effort into writing a brief and we want the students to learn to respond to set questions with rigour and focus – but on the other, we run the risk of sucking the life out of a project if we’re too dogmatic. The following film piece by Venice Wanakornkul (progressing to BA Fine Art at Central Saint Martins), is the most perfect and playful example of why we need to allow students to bend rules. When faced with a brief to produce a piece of work in response to a culture (chosen from artefacts within the V&A), Venice opted to focus her outcome on the culture of museums. Hm…. not quite what we’d asked for – but the idea Venice had, subverted the brief in such a delightful way, we simply had to allow her to pursue it. Here is her film:

I never cease to be surprised and impressed by how sophisticated some students are in their thinking at this stage – how they utilise research and process information. The images here are from the sketchbook of Michael Ng (progressing to BA Product Design at Central Saint Martins) and they are such an impressive demonstration of lateral thinking in response to the Culture project described above.

Having made some initial drawings of these Japanese artefacts in the V&A (traditional cases for holding small objects), Michael undertakes further internet research, before leaping to references of inter-locking pens, stacking crates and coffee cups, then back to Samurai warrior helmets for a further re-think on the form, before producing this prototype to a more geometric design. Michael went on to develop the design even further, incorporating lights, (yes lights!), but I think even up to this stage of his project, his sense of investigation and spirit of ‘how can I make this better?’ is so wonderfully clear to see.

The experience of teaching on Foundation has lead me to re-appraise my own working methods and to be more open to wider influences. It has made me reconnect to my own experiences on Foundation and reminds me of a time when everything seemed new and different – sometimes uncomfortably so. But most importantly, it puts me in an environment once a week, where industry cynicism makes no unwelcome intrusions and anything can be possible.

With thanks to the staff and students on the Central Saint Martins Foundation Plus course, 2011.

[The opinions expressed above are those of Clare Skeats and do not necessarily reflect those of Central Saint Martins.]

 

~ Alistair is raising money for Cancer Research UK during his ride – please wander over to his Just Giving page and donate a little cash. ~

Mind Over Matter

Kemistry Gallery is fast becoming London’s best place to see classic graphic design work, and their new show looks set to cement that reputation.

Opening on 25 August, Mind Over Matter celebrates the work of Alan Fletcher, and specifically the 10th anniversary of the publication of The Art of Looking Sideways, his seminal book on graphic design.

The show runs until 1 October.

Cattle Brand

The mark above is a cattle brand, and a particularly fantastic one at that. I first saw it in Per Mollerup’s marvellous book, Marks of Excellence.

Cattle brands have been around since the days when the Egyptian pharaohs were doing their thing, but they really came of age in the late 19th century in the United States, where in 1880 there were almost 40 million head of cattle.

With that many cows wandering around, you need to make sure people know which ones are yours – particularly with rustlers about eager to make off with your livelihood. That was done with brands burnt into the cattle’s hides with hot irons – as Ramon F Adams says in the introduction to Manfred R Wolfenstine’s comprehensive history of cattle branding, The Manual of Brands and Marks, ‘A brand’s something that won’t come off in the wash’. Here’s a plate from that book, showing drawings of one of Wolfenstine’s irons.

All cattle brands are registered with the county or state in a brand book, which records the name, design and placement of each mark. They can be made up of letters, numbers or symbols, and all manner of combinations of each of those. They are read from top to bottom, and from left to right. Branding irons were traditionally made of steel (if made by hand), or copper or stainless steel (if manufactured commercially), and heated over a wood fire. Individual letters and numbers were generally between three and five inches high, and 1 1/2 inches wide.

Various alphabets were designed specifically for branding, including standard, flying, running, hooked, bradded, forked, barbed, dragging, walking, swinging and rocking:

An alphabet that featured letters and figures on their sides, ‘too tired to stand up’, was described as ‘lazy’.

Now that you know that, you should be able to decipher the brand:

The brand is 2 Lazy 2 P, or ‘Too lazy to pee’. I love it for its staggering narrative economy. The idea of someone being too lazy to even take a pee is damn fine in itself (though for them to use that to identify themselves and their cattle is a little bonkers), but to compress the idea into two numbers and a letter is just brilliant; and brilliantly unforgettable.

[This is an extended version of Alistair's Pictoform piece in the latest issue (G191) of Grafik magazine.]

British Isles Map

So this is rather lovely – a map of the British Isles created out of text that relates to its geographical location – so the Isle of Wight is illustrated with the word 1970, for the epic festival that occurred there in that year.

It’s by Angus McArthur & Alison Hardcastle, and you can pick it up from Theo.

Central Saint Martins pop-up shop

Kate Goodridge, a second year student on Central Saint Martins BA Graphic Design course has been in touch to let us know that they’re running a pop-up shop next week at the City Arts & Music Project, selling a mix of limited edition, bespoke and handmade items. The show is part of their Off Sight exhibition, created for their campaign (which we recently posted about) to keep the printmaking facilities on site when the college moves to Kings Cross later in the year.

The pop-up shop runs from Wednesday 8 to Friday 10 June, and the main exhibition until Tuesday 21 June. All the profits go towards their final year show – it’s a good cause, but more importantly, you might find some great work from an as-yet undiscovered talent…

Lovely flyer too.