davidthedesigner

the drawbacks of being a designer #4

As you'll have seen (if you're paying attention at the back there), I was on out on the road yesterday morning. And as well as seeing Angie tootling by, I got stuck for a while behind a Waitrose lorry. And there was something that caught my eye. Something that wasn't quite right.

Can you see what it is?

Well I'll tell you: whoever had applied the vehicle graphics had managed to get the s in the logo upside down. And more to the point, it was bugging me. And it bugs me still.

You see, only a typographer would know that there was anything wrong. The rest of you don't know how lucky you are.

And if you don't believe me, this is how it should be:

the fine art of spotting hearts, and suchlike

Apropos my orange spot that I was talking about last week (of which more later), it perhaps comes as no surprise just how many times Milton Glaser's brilliant original 'I heart NY' concept has been appropriated by others down the years.

Why, here are just a few:

i spot dh t-shirts (or the spot is calling the kettle black)

Remember my bit of fun with the 'orange spot' t-shirt last week? Well the heavy hand at Hirst headquarters has beaten me around the head and threatened me with an 'infringement of copyright' notice.

Which sort of makes me wonder why he thinks it might be fair for him to do it, but it's not, apparently, fair for me to do it.

After all, the orange spot could just as legitimately be claimed as the copyright of david the designer (it's been there a long time):

And there's no law, as far as I'm aware, that prohibits me (or anyone else) from using the font American Typewriter. So maybe it's my initials, DH, that he's claiming sole rights to? Go tell that to David Hockney.

Anyway, it seems to me to be just a little bit rich coming from someone who has the brass neck to appropriate (like hundreds before him) and then lay claim to Milton Glaser's brilliant original concept as well as every damned spot under the sun.

So since we can't have the spot, let's have something else instead:

Oh, and by the way, if I ever do sell any of these t-shirts (which, to be frank, I consider to be highly unlikely) I'll donate all the profits to charity. You know, sort of like Damien Hirst had to do when he got into copyright trouble over that sculpture.

that's just my stile, that is

A lovely archive collection of covers from Italian magazine Stile Industria, published between 1954 and 1963 (via things magazine).

this one's for...

...Mike. Made me smile, too. (Designed by Hipgnosis, by the way.)

design for the majority

I know I wasn't alone last week in telling you about The Guardian's iPad App, but I did pass over telling you that it was launched shortly thereafter, figuring that you'd probably already heard about that from somebody else.

Whether you own an iPad or not (and I'm sort of guessing that most of you don't - yet), I think this is something you need to take notice of. Especially if you're a designer for either print or web, or both. Because this is something else again. Which makes it jolly useful that Aegir over at the Ministry of Type has written this very thorough review. I'd go over there and read it carefully, if I were you.

reading between the lines

I always imagine that if you read this blog then you probably read the same collection of blogs that I read - at least as far those related to design are concerned. Which means that you would be keeping up to date with what Mike Dempsey has to say. But on the off-chance that you don't, this post is a reaction to Mike's latest call to arms: for fellow designers to follow the lead of their 30-something compatriots and re-engage with a more literary approach to design, using classical styles and techniques from the 40s and 50s.

Because the thing is, I don't think I agree with Mike. And I say that because although I've read his post several times, I'm not entirely certain that I understand his argument.

But let's start with his first example - the 1980 stationery range by and for Studio Dumbar:

As Mike quite rightly points out, this was a piece of work that was going to have an effect upon the British graphic scene. And so it proved to be, for anyone who was working as a designer in 1980 (as both Mike and I were) would have immediately recognised that this was ground-breaking work. The graphic equivalent, perhaps, of hearing (in your youth) the Sex Pistols or Nirvana for the very first time.

Now I can tell you a little more about this stationery range, for it was in fact designed by Ko Sliggers. And assuming that you haven't been reading this blog since the very beginning, it was first mentioned in the first few days of my blogging life. The result of which was that Ko became a friend and occasional contributor to this blog.

But what puzzles me is that Mike seems to suggest that this piece of work in some ways opened the floodgates for all manner of self-indulgent typographic flights of fancy during the following two decades. Well, that may or may not be the case. But I find it difficult to understand that its subsequent effects should undermine or devalue the quality of the work itself. Of course, we now look back with different eyes and place different interpretations upon its values, especially if you've never seen it before now. Just remember that this received a D&AD Silver Award, and that Mike himself was one of the awarding judges.

It's of its time, though - nobody would deny that. Just as Wim Crouwel's work is of its time, as he himself would agree (just watch his little trailer to the Helvetica movie). And Wim Crouwel's work will be reinterpreted, as sure as eggs are eggs. You know, when I made my visit to his Design Museum exhibition there was a design student very carefully sketching into his notebook the new alphabet. "You can download that for free from the internet, you know", I remarked. But that wasn't the point of course - he needed to understand it. Mark my words, that will resurface in some other iteration in the next 10 to 15 years. Maybe it already has. What goes around comes around: 'twas ever thus.

But look at it this way - without Gert Dumbar and his studio, it's doubtful that why not associates would have emerged in the 1990s in the way that they did:

And if that work isn't of its time, I don't know what is. And that style itself led on to all manner of crimes against typography. Not least the suggestion to design students that it was quite acceptable to create Quark XPress files with 48 linked text boxes on a single spread. But without that we wouldn't have today's typographic trees or comedy carpet:

And surely anyone's mum or dad can understand and enjoy those, can't they?

It's not that I'm entirely against classical principles. And I'm certainly not against respecting the reader. Balance and elegance are very often all that's needed, such as demonstrated by Brian Webb in his excellent Design Series:

But if everyone's going to revert to classical principles, then we're going to miss out on a lot of vibrant, exciting and challenging influences. Because sometimes what's required from a brief is to 'push the envelope'. And if you wonder what I'm talking about, it's not the branding for the Olympics. Let me point you instead across the English Channel and to the work of Pierre di Sciullo:

And Philippe Apeloig:

So, sorry Mike. I'm afraid I'm not yet ready to give up my isms.

own up now: have you ever said that belgium is boring?

Because just to prove you wrong, along comes young Dutchman Rob van Hoesel who has photographed all 1,670 kilometres of the Belgian motorway system and published the results in Transitoland.

(via i love belgium - well, somebody has to)

half empty or half full?

I've been lunching with Mike once or twice a week recently. Although, actually, lunching isn't quite the right word. You see, Mike suffers from a degenerative disease which means that he's confined to a wheelchair. But Mike enjoys a pint or two, so I've been taking him out and about to some of his favourite haunts. My task is to take care of the driving back and forth, so I can't join in with the drinking. Which means that I become a bit of an observer. And Mike has introduced me to the world of real ale, which is one of those things in life that I completely fail to understand.

But real ale and microbreweries are enjoying a boom, apparently. And it's a funny old design-free world, it seems to me. Or at least judged on the basis of their branding efforts, which really only consists of the labels on the hand pumps. But these seem to be a source of great fascination and discussion on the part of those who partake. Indeed, Mike himself wants to know the ABV of every brew on offer before deciding upon which he's going to splash out on. Can you really tell the difference between something at 4.3% and 4.7%? Or is the rate at which you become inebriated part of the pull?

Mind you, for all their lack of sophistication, I can't help wondering whether these microbreweries haven't in fact got their target audience completely nailed. For they're always men. And, without wishing to appear to be too judgmental, men who are past their prime. With views and opinions to match. And the beer pump labels that I've seen in the past few months seem to be spot on when it comes to reflecting the thought processes of those who like to down a few pints over a lunchtime.

Here, with the help of the Pump Clip Museum, are a few examples to illustrate my observations. Top of the list is the belief that the barmaid wants, more than anything else, to engage in some form of sexual activity.

But sometimes the barmaid isn't so attractive. Which means that attention has to turn to those who are getting the sort of sex that you can only dream of.

But three pints down and with it comes the onset of brewer's droop. Which means only one thing: thoughts turn to steam trains.

And with steam trains comes nostalgia. And so, inexorably, to our hero - Winston Churchill.

And from Winston, and thoughts of all those unwanted foreigners, there's only one place to retreat to - the safety of the Union Jack.

But I'm still sober, remember. And my mind's beginning to wander. But mine's a designer's mind, so what I want to do is inject a bit of fun into the proceedings, and untilize my skills along the way.

So what am I going to do? Well, I'm going to give that last label a modernist makeover.

Hic.

signs of the times

It's the job of a designer to be out of step with the times. We should never forget that, for if we do and we become too comfortable with the work that we're producing, then we've ceased to push at the boundaries. But from my experience, this 'disconnect' with the world around us is not a constant thing. It's elastic, and moves backwards and forwards throughout our careers.

Anyway, this is just to let you know that I'm currently well out of step with the times. And it manifests itself in small ways: like visiting exhibitions and then not telling you about them. Which brings me on to Wim Crouwel - because I had lots of time to comment on the recent exhibition at the Design Museum. But I never got my act together, did I? Sorry about that.

Anyway, here's the thing. We (that's us graphic designers) know about Wim Crouwel mostly because of the new alphabet, or the 30 years of posters for the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam - isn't that right? But the posters left me somewhat underwhelmed. I don't know why. Maybe it was the way they were displayed: crammed together on the two side walls, all shouting out for attention. And the alphabet: I'm not sure about that either, for as a designer you could only ever use it in reference to Crouwel himself (Peter Saville excepted).

But don't let that lull you into thinking that I'm not an admirer of Crouwel, because I am. And if there was a revelation within the exhibition, then - for me - it lay elsewhere. Specifically the big end wall covered in symbols and logotypes: all in mono, and all very geometric. Here's a selection:

And I never knew before that he designed that Makro logo - did you?