The designer must always meet the specifications of the brief. There are usually technical reasons something needs to be a certain size or format. It was with horror and confusion when I found somewhere in the mountains of text applicants were expected to read, that all entries should be created to be viewed on laptop: landscape format with an average ratio of 16:9. That is not the format of the comic book.
It was literally as I was preparing to upload images to the D&AD website that I found this out. I considered simply calling it a day and saving the £15 I would have to pay to enter the competition in the first place, but decided to take all three of my portrait pages and put them side to side. This satisfied the landscape requirements of the brief, and made my pages understandable in the process. Debrief never specified whether the posters should be stand-alone or a collective. I opted to make them a sequential narrative because I felt it was the only way to get across the significance of the wisdom being offered. I mean, if you just tell people stuff, it’s just a marketing tagline isn’t it? ‘Be yourself’, ‘think outside the box’, ‘just do it’. See what I mean?
I explained the reasons most of the comic is in black-and-white in the last post, and I stand by them, but one thing became very obvious while I was checking out last years winners. All entries were full-colour and usually quite bold. It’s hardly surprising. When you think of graphic design or illustration, you think of MasterCard adverts or some sort of pop-art portrait derivative. You know exactly what I mean when you see it. Black-and-white comics, from what little I know, were a fad in the 1980s. They gave us the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,Usagi Yojimbo and lots of other titles I don’t know about, but really should.
Perhaps the most educational thing about the process is the entrance fee. It is normal to pay to enter a competition. You pay for your lottery tickets, to enter any phone-in competitions or anything like that. But those competitions are a matter of chance: sure you pick your numbers for the lottery, but a machine picks some other numbers you have to try and match. Say what you want, but it’s not about the skills or talents of the competition entrants. With the D&AD competition, not only do you have to pay, but you also have to be objectively better (subjectively, really) than the other entrants. And while it doesn’t seem like it to me, since I’ve been spending other people’s money for the last four years, I’ve been reliably informed that £15 is a lot of money (it’s actually £20 because they add VAT when you pay).
It reminds me of people complaining about journalism being only open to those of sufficient economic means because poor people were priced out of the unpaid internships that were required for students to become professionals. I don’t want to go on a rant about the disproportionate representation of certain demographics in the design industry, but when I look at the faces on my design course, both at the students and staff, and of all of the professionals we’ve had speak to us over the years, I see it wouldn’t be difficult to if I wanted. And you thought I was here to talk about cartoon cats. Lol, joke’s on you.
The rough idea was to have a promotional poster for each concept; one for enhanced smell, sight and mobility. They were to be representative of the technology being out on the market, just after prototyping and trying to get the general public to overlook the unusual appearance of the technology in favour of the benefits it would provide.
First up was the enhanced scent detection technology. Dogs have been used by the police for many years to help in detecting illegal substances ranging from illicit drugs to bomb making materials. They also help track missing persons and convicts on the run, My premise was to take the dogs incredibly advanced nasal capabilities and have them available to law enforcement agencies in some sort of headwear, budget notwithstanding. This would make going through customs a nightmare for smugglers and stop and searches almost a formality. This of course, assumes the spectacular increase in scent detection can be interpreted correctly by the user. We are making that assumption.
If any one was going to be field testing these devices, it would seem logical to give them to customs agents. the government could justify the expense by putting under national security and playing the patriotism card (I certainly did in one of my posters). I chose to visualise the Drug Enforcement Agency(DEA) in the US as the agency in question using the dog nose helmets since they tend to deploy officers in full tactical armour when the situation arises and the helmet seems more out of place when worn by British customs agents, who from what I can tell, tend to just wear office attire.
The design of the headwear closely resembles a dog nose to represent the technology still being in it’s infancy and scientist haven’t yet found a way to make it work without directly copying the infrastructure of an actual dog’s nasal system.
While conceiving how the nose would fit on the user’s face I did a little collage mock up. The relevance of this is that I can now graduate from the poorly held notion I used to have that collage is for primary school children and accept that collage can be awesome, you just have to start with the right imagery.
As I assembled elements for use in my posters, I became increasingly aware of how long it was taking to visualise the concept. In the end, I had to make the decision to create three posters on the same concept and leave the spider legs and chameleon eyes in developmental phase. This was a great shame, as I was really looking forward to realising the soldier of tomorrow with his great big ogilly-googily eyes. The concept was to be similar to the dog nose, but focus more on special operations soldiers, like the SAS or Navy Seals. the fully articulated chameleon eyes would allow the soldier to look in two directions at the same time, helping prevent ambushes, locating targets of interest, watching multiple targets of interest at the same time, offering things like sight magnification, infra-red and night vision, that sort of thing. Looking around corners without sticking your head around it, the list goes on.
Based on my research into spiders and their uncanny ability to walk on ceilings and stick to glass, I had considered some sort of spider-harness not unlike the one spiderman had at one point in the comic books. Science fiction usually has an impact on science fact, with touch screen technology, virtual reality and all sorts of things we take for granted today having first been imagined in the past. The harness would allow for extreme manoeuvrability in extreme locations, like navigating terrain after an earthquake for rescue operations, cleaning skyscraper windows on the outside with no need for a safety harness, mountain climbing, and so on.
Anyway, back to what I did manage to get done. My first poster shows several DEA agents at an airport terminal processing luggage at an x-ray machine. The poster is designed as a warning to those intending to import illegal goods into America and give them another reason to ‘think again’. It also serves as an advertisement to the american people of the efficiency of the DEA and thusly,of taxpayer money well spent.
The second poster plays heavily on American patriotism with the flag in the background. The no nonsense message also plays with the brashness and directness that one can identify Americans with.
The third poster was designed as more of a marketing tool to promote the technology to those who would use it more than to those it would impact. I had originally intended to have some sort of x-ray cut out to show the internal mechanics of how the system works, but it quickly dawned on me that I didn’t know enough about how the dog’s nose works or mechanical design to create the intended visual outcome. I wasn’t able to find any examples of what I was looking for to anchor my work to either. So in the end, I settled for something akin to a presentation graphic that investors might be shown. I do like the simple layout, and yet again, the DEA provided the colour scheme from their logo. I hadn’t intended to appropriate the DEA’s identity like that originally, but after drawing the conclusion that the DEA would be the most suitably equipped to wear the technology and still look mostly normal, it seemed rational to present the technology in use under their umbrella. Even though I just said the last poster was not conceived for public display, since no patents or secrets are given away, it could be used simply to promote how advanced the DEA are, both to potential criminals and to prospective employees.
All in all, the potential for this brief was limitless. I could have spent the entire year doing nothing but this and still barely scratched the surface. I would have loved to create a sleek video package to advertise something, or made a 3d render using something like cinema 4d. It was my great misfortune that this brief came after Christmas and not before. It could have had a significant impact on my overall engagement with the course this year, which, basically, fell off a cliff some time in March. Alas! Alas! What could have been! Still, I did end up with three A1 posters and I did realise some of what I’d hoped to. And finding out that collage can be cool is something I’m going to take with me to the grave. Along with where I hid the bodies.
Having been asked to create a 16 page manifesto, let me show you what I did, a few pages at a time.
A manifesto is a document by which others will understand your position within whatever it is you are aiming to contribute to. The most common use of the word ‘manifesto’ you will see will have ‘party’ written or said before it. Any serious political party has a manifesto, which outlines how they intend to govern better than their peers and, of course, if you know anything about politics, you’ll know that the promises contained in these manifestos are regularly broken. Irregardless, a manifesto shows potential supporters your aims and your idealised vision of the future. Mine is functionally a list of things to do that will make me better at what I do.
As I’ve said previously, the delivery of a powerful message is more important to me than it’s presentation per se, so I wanted to have a crack at big bold type placement with very little embellishment. The problem with this kind of work is that I can’t separate the time spent making it from it’s inherent value. These were made digitally, at no cost, with no risk of wasting materials or anything like that. Each one took less than an hour and any 8-year-old with an iPad could replicate them. So can I justify them? They say what needed to be said and actually, as I state in my opening page, quantity of output is more important to me. I don’t want to be that guy with tworeally good pieces, I want to be the guy where they’re like, ‘Wait, he did that as well? Where does he find all the time?‘
The quote from Ella Wheeler Wilcox seems out of place, but when you consider I originally took it to heart after hearing it in the Korean version of the film Oldboy, which is a subject of other pages, you’ll see why I included it in my personal manifesto.
Oldboy is one of my favourite films (again I must stress I’m talking about the Korean version) and a few years ago, I made what I call a reverse storyboard of the film. I basically illustrated a still image from the film every half minute or whenever I deemed it appropriate simply as an exercise in, well it’s not quite life drawing; let’s call it observational drawing, then. I consider it a coffee-table piece to enjoy having seen the film, a fun experiment to try and make sense of any of it, having not seen the film, and a subtle encouragement to go see the film. This project was the hardest I’ve ever worked in my life and let me say this: if I could find a way to make myself reliably produce this kind of output, everything else would take care of itself. So I include it because this is an example of my ideals:’ Do it now (there’s work), do it again (there’s more work), do more (there’s even more work), be prolific (there’s even more work).’ and because it’s an example of me living by them.’Do it now (I did it then), do it again (I did it again), do more (I did more!), be prolific ( I did even more!).
I feel confident showing these pages because I know how much effort I put into the original artwork and no one can take that away from me even if these actual pages took the same amount of time to make as the text based ones prior.
My work on this university course is brief led. Essentially, they tell us what to do and we do it. They encourage us to go around the brief, to find any excuse to shift it towards our own strengths and preferences and develop in a way of our choosing, so that it can’t be used as an excuse to make bad work. However, there is still a brief, which will revolve around a product; an end goal a ‘what‘ in the parlance of Simon Sinek, who gave a TED talk I mentioned in a previous post. The message of this poster is more like my personal why. I wish to amuse, entertain and inform (in that order). I will do this through storytelling, jokes and other entertaining discourse. I just happen to be using illustration and graphics as my medium.
The above image was a stand alone piece that simply stemmed from what I thought was I good idea. I was doing something else when the phrase ‘deconstructed in seven steps’ came up. So, y’know Picasso = abstraction and Picasso = bull, so I abstract-ified an image of a bull in seven steps, then Picasso and then the comprehension of numbers. The final one might take a bit of explaining. Taken from the point of view of a westerner who doesn’t know Japanese, the first image is the kanji for one, two, three, four and five. The next is romanisation of those kanji, which I personally understand, knowing the spoken Japanese for one to five, then you have the english words for the numbers, which as an English speaker, you still understand, but they are still an abstraction and of course you only understand them if you know English. Then you have the numerical representations, which regularly transcend language barriers, followed by Roman numerals which, with the first three at least, you could potentially understand without being told. Then you have the counting of rocks, which even a caveman could do, (provided he had some way of internalising the process) and finally, counting, using your hands. Everyone has done this at some point, so I offer it as the simplest form of counting from one to five available. Still with me? No? Well, just read the paragraph again and it will totally make sense this time.
As it says, this was led by process, not a preconceived final outcome. I just did it and accepted the results without prejudice. This is something we students are always being encouraged to experiment more with. All too often, we will have an idea and do it instead of basically making a mess until something cool reveals itself. It can be very fun, but isn’t conducive to meeting deadlines… Still, I don’t wan’t to forget one of the few times I just ran with something and had a good time, so there it is.
Here, we have the flip side of the earlier stuff: full-on illustration. I frequently lament that my personal disposition towards silly nonsense isn’t present enough in my university work. I never had any intention of being a contemporary artist and challenging the status quo by crapping into an empty can of beans or whatever (by the way, someone did something very similar in the sixties or seventies, so that wouldn’t even be innovative). My goals were always about providing content that would allow for escapism more than advertisement, per se. As such, cartoon dogs are more my raison d’être than Bauhaus design (and my bank account will never forgive me for this). The problem with illustrations like the ones I like to do is that you don’t have the benefit of easy editing and significant altering. Of course, I mean comparatively speaking, to a text based digital work. I illustrate using photoshop, so while I can switch colour pallets and resize things and move things around, if something needs to be redrawn, I have to redraw it. None of the three pages shown are the original three pages I produced and while I’m not that good anyway, the ever-tightening noose of the deadline did mean I’ve ended up with work that, well, needs more work. Look at the Dog on the right in the last image above. He’s the dog on the right from the two pages above. It’s just a close-up. So where did that crowd above him come from? It’s from a previous version of the illustration I made, and with the rush to print for studio presentation, the wrong layers were visible, wires were crossed and mistakes were made. Still, this sort of no-second-chance illustration feels far more worthy of a time investment to me than the text based stuff. I know effort put in rarely equals perceived quality, when the observer doesn’t know exactly how you did it, but I know how I did it and whenever I judge anyone else’s work, a great deal of my appreciation will be distributed based on how difficult it would be for me or anyone else to replicate said work.
These are my final three pages (Yay!). As I’ve already said, I have reservations about the worth of (my) digital text creations, so I took some text, printed it out, went outside and stuck it onto the real world. So now we have higher costs, the element of risk finding the locations and how people passing by are going to react, the risk of damaging the cutouts and having to start again, the risk of doing a bad job placing the text and also the risk of taking bad photographs, since all I can actually show is the photographs of the work ‘cos I’m pretty sure someone would get upset if I took the walls away with me. Now this sounds a bit more like art to me.
And then I realise what a can of worms I’m opening up. The reason I’ve just said what I said is this notion that the work is only of value if it sets you apart from everyone else, and it isn’t so easy to reproduce. So is the value of art that not everyone can do it? But in 2016, with all the easily accessible knowledge and tools out there, anyone can make art. Good art too. Whatever that means. Y’know what? we’ll come back to that later.
The first image above is on a random wall, the second is on my front door and the third is in Brick Lane, East London, in a graffiti-filled alleyway. The first two didn’t really need explanation, but I feel I was unable to get the significance of the third one across. These are the only images I feel have been hurt by being in black and white. Probably the simplest solution is to use the colour photos and perhaps colour the dog illustrations so it becomes another variable in my work to make it a bit more diverse. Naturally, the point of these three pages is for me as a designer to become more involved with the text in the hope that it creates a more enjoyable and worthwhile experience for both me and the viewer and to offer a counter-balance to the digital text work at the start.
I think you’ve humoured me long enough. I hope my words have helped you grasp my thoughts and if you take nothing else away from this, take this: I like making jokes and being modestly entertaining. It is my goal to create entertaining work, in whatever medium I can manage and to incorporate my wit and (limited) wisdom into whatever I do. While my work will never be the best, I do hope you will enjoy what I make and come back for more. And when you do come back for more, that I will have more waiting for you.
Thank you. And go watch Oldboy (the Korean version) it’s the best film about #SPOILER ALERT# you’ll ever see!
We were asked to visit the Imperial War Museum’s retrospective on Peter Kennard, presumably to see the work of an artist who clearly has a point he wishes to get across in his work. I should rephrase that, since every graphic designer should have a point they clearly want to get across in each and every piece of work they do. Kennard’s body of work is clearly political in nature and reflects his personal opinions on the world we live in.
In his early work, his tools of choice were photo-montage and manipulation. A good couple of decades before photoshop gave ten-year olds the power to equal the output of professionals, Kennard was making it look easy, and more importantly, was becoming the voice for those who wished to let their feelings be known when it came to war, nuclear (dis)armament and the like.
Kennard’s work is not difficult to grasp. When a missile erupts from the planet like a bullet shot through an apple, the meaning is clear. Again with an armed soldier kicking the planet like a football, you don’t need a master’s in art history to figure out where he’s going with that.
Having gone to the Font exhibition previously, and having found it to be difficult to decipher without assistance and a great deal of desire to do so, I found Kennard’s work to be more agreeable. Now, I don’t want everything in the world to be instantly understandable, just as I don’t want everything to be contrived and confusing; it’s always better to have options. That said, if you asked me which exhibition I’d go back to, it would be Kennard’s hands down and that’s not just because his exhibition had more stuff there.
Kennard’s work is a clear representation of his political views and is an excellent example of an artist defining himself through their work. This shows one way that we students, as we create our own manifestos, can show who we are through the work we make.
As time went on, Kennard moved away from photo-manipulation as the technology to make it easier came along. He then made some work of a decidedly subtler nature.
The Reading Room section shows financial times broadsheets covered with the smudged, blurry faces of people one may choose to describe as disillusioned, which would be leading, but there you go. These broadsheets are placed on lecterns reminiscent of the ones Kennard remembers from libraries, growing up, that gave the papers a sort of gravitas. The room is a recreation of the original exhibition that took place at the Gimpel Fils gallery in 1997.
It juxtaposes the individual with the ever present international financial markets and the faceless statistics that we’re so used to today.
I do tend to gravitate towards black and white graphic illustration like this. Is it because any work that predominantly uses black reminds me of the comic books I like, like Brian Bolland’s run on Judge Dredd, or Shogun Executioner by Kazuo Koike and Goseki Kojima or because the simplicity is it’s strength, or because I think ‘Hey, I could do that, and not break the bank’? Who knows?
Irregardless, at the Peter Kennard exhibition I found some of the best use of photo montage I’ve ever seen (and am quite prepared to rethink my position that collage is for five-year-olds) and some great inspiration for how to go about defining myself through my work.
Now, there’s plenty of stuff that was there that I haven’t talked about, but guess what? Good news! The exhibition is still on (as I write. Don’t blame me if it isn’t when you read this. Just wait some more until someone invents a time machine and then come back and see it). You have until 30th of May 2016 to go see it. And it is free entry, so Check out all the details here then go get some Kennard son!
To help the students develop a better understanding of our personal positions as design practitioners, graphic designer and all-round cool dude Paul Jenkins led two workshops with us. There are quite a few guys called Paul Jenkins. I’m talking about this one. The first workshop was about establishing a customer facing description of our studio as a whole. The idea was not to push what we do, but why we do it. He showed us a clip from Simon Sinek’s TED talk on ‘why’. Just watch it next time you fell like watching an epic fail montage on you tube or something. You may not agree with what he says, but his argument is compelling.
So, as a result we were tasked with determining why Press Pass does what it does, how it does what it does and then finally, what it does.
Paul had an uphill battle with this, as functionally, our studio was simply a collection of individuals who happened to pick the same studio from a list of four at the start of the year. Press Pass was neither our idea or our raison d’être, so that was something of a hard sell. At this point I was going to tell you what we all came up with, but it might prove far more telling to explain to you why I won’t. Firstly, I don’t actually remember, and yes, that makes it pretty obvious that whatever lessons learned won’t be influencing future work. Secondly, It’s difficult to check the studio space, as the all the work on the wall is no longer on the wall.
After we did the brainstorming in the morning, we all picked a key word from our studio description and illustrated it somehow. The Idea was to stick this work directly on top of the stuff already there. Paul referred to this as a sort of ‘wire-framing’ technique, borrowing the term from website building, I believe. Thusly, once we left for the day, the work started to fall off the walls and no amount of re-taping seemed to prevent gravity from having it’s way in the end. And so the ideology of the Press Pass studio ended up relegated and forgotten on a dusty shelf in the corner. To date, no attempt has been made to give this another go, as quite frankly, getting fifteen people to agree on anything that is deeply personal to them is going to take way more than a couple of hours.
Now, there may be other reasons why this didn’t stick (oh dear, was that an unintentional pun?). I’ll show you the work I did in the second part of the workshop.
One day workshops have a habit of producing underwhelming work. I’m pretty sure we all know it takes more than ten minutes to make a masterpiece, but that doesn’t stop students feeling self-conscious about what they produce and even, occasionally, the workshop leaders being obviously underwhelmed with the results. Paul wasn’t a jerk or anything about it, like I say before, he’s a cool dude, but he couldn’t help but gravitate towards the prettier looking stuff. It’s human nature, what are you going to do? But my point is that most students don’t make a habit of showing off their workshop work to people who aren’t being paid to look at it, so instead of developing our studio’s core focus and the workshop stuff, when it all started falling off, people may have taken it as an excuse to cut and run. That’s conjecture on my part and probably too considered. It probably boils down to inactivity in the studio space in general. And without everyone there to work through it all, it would just end up being the opinions of those who bothered. And there are much better places to voice your own opinions, like on , I dunno, a blog or something. Hey, I’m just sayin’.
We did have another workshop with Paul, where we tried to conceptualise some sort of web content for self promotion. This was another hard sell. Paul wanted us to think deep, and work fast, two things I personally gravitate towards anyway, but a fair amount of the students in our studio don’t feel particularly comfortable doing either of those things. Like i said, you can’t make a masterpiece in ten minutes. I mean, I certainly didn’t.
My idea was conceived as an app where you touch various parts of an illustrated version of my face to get a grasp of who I am, so you touch my forehead to see my inspirations, my ears for stuff I like to listen to or my nose to see what I smelling. And what am I smelling? The image that would load would be of a bull taking a dump, so, y’know, do the math.
Again, brainstorming like this in a short amount of time is very difficult and when you don’t really have any notion of the practicalities you are going to have to deal with when realising your idea, it’s mostly a crapshoot. I’m undecided whether this kind of thinking gets easier the more you do it or if it’s just something some people are much better at than others. It’s probably both.
All in all, Paul Jenkins sessions were very taxing, and that alone means they were worthwhile. He gave us plenty to think about and encouraged us to keep refining the studio’s raison d’être. I have grave reservations about how likely that is to happen or even future studio initiatives, considering how we can’t agree with much conviction on why we do what we do among other things. Let’s see what happens, shall we?
Following on from our visit from designer Anthony Burrill, our studio was given a new major brief to tackle. The idea was to look at artist manifestos and to effectively create our own, with a minimum of 16 pages to be ultimately bound to the work of all the other students. The work was to end up A4 in size, with the duplicate versions being in black and white to save on printing costs.
The funny thing is: I’d meant to create a manifesto of sorts last year after looking at Lawrence Weiner’s Declaration of Intent. I think I have a clear understanding of the kind of work I what my name associated with. At the very least, I have clear preferences.
My desire for the manifesto was to devote one page to one ideal to strive for. Two major influences were the Make Good Art book of a speech Neil Gaiman gave and a book of posters by one Anthony Burrill.
Angharad Lewis, one of the studio leaders, brought this book in from her own collection to show the class. Whilst I’m sure Gaiman made all the words with hismouth, I remain unsure if he is responsible for the design and layout of the book.
What I tell you next will give you a very large insight into how I perceive graphic design and it’s use. After Angharad showed everyone the book and left it in the studio, I immediately went and read it. I know Neil Gaiman from having read The Sandman, a comic book series he wrote in the eighties or nineties, which is still, to this day, of of the finest examples of comics to show some of the inherent potential of comic books as a medium, which are mostly being squandered in the endless repetition of superhero stories (and don’t get me wrong, I love Batman, the Hulk and all that madness, but they keep rebooting the franchises because they’re diametrically opposed to progress, growth and consequence in all their storytelling). I read Gaiman’s words, I absorbed their meaning, took his points to heart, and then observed they way they had been visualised on the page. This is the way I look at graphic design. To me the accurate dissemination of pertinent information is the core function of ‘graphic design’ in the traditional sense. Aesthetics are secondary.
Consider the following works of Burrill below and how they get their point across.
To say there are no design elements in these examples of Burrill’s work would be incorrect, even comparatively speaking, in reference to the book above. However, there is clearly a much stronger focus on the message and it’s beauty. If the layouts in Make Good Art artfully speak, then Burrill’s work boldly shouts from atop a mountain. I lack the experience or, right now, the patience, to design in such a way as the above book, so I decided that my starting point for my manifesto would focus on a more Burrill-istic approach. In a rare situation for me, I actually remembered to show my process as I was doing it. It will become apparent that my skill with text is, shall we say, in it’s infancy, but so what? If Pianists were afraid of playing badly there would be no pianists at all!
They say good design is about using the least amount of tools to get your point across unhindered, so putting ‘again’ there three times seems somewhat superfluous to me, but all art is subjective, so the law of averages dictates that all of those versions will find approval from someone.
The most important thing, though, is to have versions. Even if it merely proves you had your best idea first. Having such ground work gives you more confidence going forward and alternatives to consider later. While it’s still fresh in your mind, now’s a good time for you to google Gaiman’s Sandman and then read it. I read mine from my local library, but if you like your ‘free’ with more immediacy and the vague aftertaste of flouting piracy law, you will no doubt have no trouble finding the seminal work online. You’re welcome.
Graphic designer, print maker and all-round nice guy Anthony Burrill visited our studio recently to give us a brief presentation on who he is, the work he makes and his influences. His talk was biographical in nature, starting with him as a plucky young youth, progressing through his student years and onto some of his bigger project to date. It was a fascinating insight into his journey as a designer.
He also talked about some of the art and artists who inspired him to do the work he does, citing Bob and Roberta Smith as an example.
One of the highlights for me was Anthony talking about his time designing a visual identity for the Hans Brinker hotel in Amsterdam. His exact wording escapes me, but whether the hotel was officially voted the worst hotel in the world, or if it’s poor standards just marked it as below acceptable levels, the decision to make the poor quality of the establishment it’s key selling point led to probably some of the funniest and entertaining advertising I will ever see in my life. ‘Now every sink comes with hot and cold water!’ , ‘Free key with every room!’ and more that I am sad to say I can’t remember, now it comes to writing them down. No doubt you’ll get some more from having a look at the Hans Brinker website…
Anthony shot through his presentation at a speed fast enough to enjoy, but not fast enough to enjoy and take pictures at the same time. I was loathe to interrupt him to tell him I didn’t get the pictures I wanted and even after the presentation ended, I didn’t want to pull him away from the constructive feedback he was offering other students to make a big deal out of it. This is the eternal problem with being at an event and participating in it whist having to record it as well. The art of taking the kind of photographs that sum up what happened articulately require you to remove yourself from the event, to position yourself to take the winning photo, however or wherever you need to go. I decided I would rather be a participant far more than an apt documenter. The problem with this, is now I’m telling you the story, but don’t have all the details to pass on what happened succinctly.
Another key point of interest is the fact that he was giving out his ‘Work hard and be nice to people’ poster for free after he originally created it. He couldn’t comprehend that people would be willing to pay for it, or perhaps to rephrase that, he was only interested in getting his work out there and any form of profit was a mute point. This echoes something I read Neil Gaiman say in a book once: ‘Never do it for the money. Those are the projects that never work out.'(That’s a paraphrase I just put in quote marks, oh dear.)
It taps into the notion that making art is not about making money, but about having something to say. It’s the juxtaposition of the cult status icon that is the epitome of strong ideals realised without compromise and the intentional pandering towards trends with the intention to maximise profit at the expense of integrity. I would almost go so far as to say the starving artist vs the commercial designer, but that is far too simple a position to take and is immediately rebuffed by Burrill’s jouney and many others as well. Nevertheless, the point is, as design students, we too, need to be consciously aware of what are motivations are for producing work and if they, in some way, are not what they should be. As I like to say after long awkward silences, ‘good talk, good talk…’
Also, here’s Anthony Burrill’s website., in case you want to buy some prints or something. Tell him Andrew sent you. He won’t have a clue what you’re talking about and you certainly won’t get a discount, but, er, you know what, never mind…
After producing my poster series for consideration for inclusion on the Ficciones Typographica website, Sarah Boris asked me and a few others to revise our posters for a second round of shortlisting.
This is what I came up with. Sarah suggested removing the gorilla from the image and concentrating on the letterforms. While this went against my earlier desire to make an image out of the letters of my question, that ambition had already been achieved and was ‘banked’, if you like, in the previous versions.
I set about trying to fill the space with my question in a way that was awkward to read, but not illegible.
In a somewhat bizarre turn for me, I don’t feel the need to speak further on this. I did produce a yellow variant on this which was meant to be used, so here it is…
I believe my dislike for type as the core focus of any work I produce simply stems from my unfamiliarity with how to utilise and modify it to suit my sensibilities. Hopefully, going through this project has given me a bit more experience and familiarity with what I can do with type and what type can do for me. When the next type based project rolls around, then we shall see how my bread is buttered…
As I was googling monkey images, since, as soon as I start to draw anything, it quickly becomes apparent that I don’t actually know how, gorillas came up. I think gorillas are cool. You would’t start a bar fight fight with a gorilla… I also like drawing them. I don’t get to redact enough documents or draw enough gorillas, so I took the opportunity to get some gorilla drawing done..
Honestly, I prefer the way the hand looks in my earlier version, but I forgot that the posters were supposed to be portrait as well as having colour restrictions. The more muscular form of the gorilla was meant to help me fill two thirds of the poster, as there’s some thing called the golden ratio or something. I read about it in a book. Useful things, books… So from what little I remember, if the composition of an image is split into three sections, it is more pleasing to the eye. That’s why I left the white space above the gorilla’s head.
It became too problematic to construct the gorilla’s face solely out of the word ‘sense’ so I used what Hollywood has been using to crap all over source material for years: artistic license! I basically gave him a confused face. The letterforms are jagged and I added a filter to give them some sense of being the gorilla’s fur. The question marks, are, as you’ve no doubt noticed, a last minute addition which probably take away more than they add. I guess I wanted to have a little helvetica running through my set of three posters? I don’t know.
So the colour restrictions for Ficciones Typografika were: black on coloured paper. The options of paper colour are white, yellow, blue, green and pink. As it was no big deal, I mocked up all the colour variants, with yellow seeming the most appropriate to run through my entire series.
The monkey poster was the concept I was focusing on developing the most, but I decided to throw another couple of hats in the ring. It gave me the opportunity to be more dismissive or experimental with the other two I did.
I immediately liked the idea of the artwork itself asking the viewer if it was art. Again, it ties into the art vs design debate. The choice of the banana on a plinth is twofold. Firstly, it synergises with me having a monkey in another poster who is confused. It could be that the banana is asking the monkey if it is art, as it is on a plinth in a gallery. The second reason is a delightful anecdote I will share with you.
During my time on the foundation course I was on immediately prior to starting the illustration degree, I observed that someone had left an empty coffee cup on one of the plinths that populated some of the corridors. There was construction work taking place in the building over the entire year, so it could have been left there by builders finishing lunch, or it could have been an art student’s take on consumer society and the importance that coffee has in the lives of people who’s day doesn’t started until they’ve had their first cup.That cup stayed on that plinth for the rest of the year. I brought this to the attention of some colleagues, who, like me, could not bring themselves to remove the paper cup either. Such is the power of the object as artform and the confusion that can follow when everyday objects are removed from their familiar context. Maybe that Marcel Duchamp guy knew what he was doing with that urinal…
I bet you didn’t get all that from looking at my picture did you? Am I right? Eh?
The second version is a more minimalist version. Good design is about using the least amount of elements to get across the complete message, so anything that can be stripped away should be. I think that’s a core difference between illustration and graphic design. Illustrations usually benefit from being lavish, extravagant or having more detail. That of course, is by no means an absolute rule, and many illustrations fly successfully if the face of what I’ve just said, but more stuff equals more effort, and more effort equals dedicated practitioner worthy of more respect, no?
Anyway, all asides aside, here’s the third poster.
Two pictures using bananas. Now you see the reasoning with the choice of background colour. Banana equals yellow. Please juxtapose that sentence with the above paragraphs to give an aggregate mean of my intelligence, ha ha. As the narrative continues, the gorilla takes the banana, leaving the skin, and the question ‘does it matter’ is all that’s left. Honestly, art is for people with the time and money and effort to waste on it. If you’re happy admiring the banana as a symbol and considering deep meaning, that’s fine. If you’d rather eat it, that’s fine too, provided it’s your banana and you don’t simultaneously attack someones livelihood and commit theft and property damage and whatever absurd crimes you would be committing by eating someone’s bananart.
‘Does it matter’ is a question I ask myself all the time of all things. Does it matter that Kim Kardashian is famous for… whatever she’s famous for? Does it matter that Scotland almost left the United Kingdom and now the referendum on the UK leaving the European Union could leave us all in a perilous predicament. Does it matter that I still haven’t see Guardians of the Galaxy or One Piece? Does it matter whether that coffee cup was art or just one of the builders mocking art by leaving his rubbish in a place that would cause people to hesitate? Does it matter whether you or I have the answers to those questions? Yes, no and everything in between…
The lack of formality that comes with using hand formed text synergises with the sentiment of the question. The question is both intended to keep all things relative to each other when considering what is truly important and also a little bit nihilistic. Just a little bit.
The decision of whether to use the first or second image comes down to ‘which looks better’ or maybe more accurately ‘which looks like I put the most work in?’ This is not just the student looking to avoid being reprimanded by his tutors, but the ‘professional’ looking to avoid giving the client an excuse to further undervalue his work. Having the confidence to show work that will garner disrespect but be more truthful to the message is a difficult prospect, especially as someone still formulating their style, tone and abilities.
That’s more than enough esoteric ramblings for today, so how about I leave you with one more burning question: Ninjas or Pirates? And yes. This one does matter.
All students in the second year of their degree must select a studio from a choice of four to spend the rest of the year working in. Each studio contains second and third year students, who also go through the same process for a second time. Each studio is supposed to offer some flexibility in what it offers so both the graphics and illustration students feel they can pick from any studio. If I haven’t explicitly stated this anywhere, let me say it now: my illustration degree runs in conjunction with the graphic design course. So, as I’ll be explaining to friends, family and prospective employers and clients for the rest of my life, my degree in illustration is actually a degree in graphic design. If you’re waiting for me to add ‘and illustration’ to the end of that last sentence, join the queue, ‘cos I’m waiting too…
Anyway, the studio I picked was called the Press Pass studio. It’s mandate is to focus of the finished, published article, with an emphasis on developing my ‘inner wordsmith’. As David Hobson, one of my foundation tutors so adequately put in when remarking on my work, ‘You can draw well enough’ and while I might argue that I have a very long way to go, I do agree with the sentiment. What I need more help with is getting from realised concept to finished product, having something that doesn’t look like it was made by a student or amateurenthusiast but by a designer. Something I can charge people for! Press Pass seemed to be a pretty good fit for that.
Our first brief was given to us by Sarah Boris, one of the four core tutors in our studio. She first introduced herself, giving us an overview of her work before joining the course. There was some interesting stuff in there, which I won’t give justice to, explaining it here, so have a look at her website.
Our first brief was titled Burning Questions. The goal was to produce a poster or a series of three posters to be typographic in nature that would be judged, with shortlisted selections being considered for entry onto the Ficciones Typografika website.
We were each asked to come up with a burning question, a genuine concern we have about our futures as designers. I made a list which contained questions such as: Is this art? Does it make sense? Must it make sense? And a few more. Upon showing the list to Sarah, she was intrigued with does it make sense?. The rest of the session was spent then trying to come up with how to visually represent the notion after a little warm up exercise, but before I move onto that I should clarify what that question means to me.
As I allude to in my post on Font by Fiona Banner, the difference between art and design is about ease of understanding. It’s also about the speed of comprehension. You go to a gallery to look at something that is hopefully worth pondering, but a poster needs to get you as you walk past. So my question is tapping into the broader area of ‘is this art or design?’ Also, in a more mundane way it addresses a core concern every designer must always be wary of: ‘do people get what I’m saying?’ Good design is about imparting all your information with the least amount of distractions or, flourishes, if you will. Failure to communicate the information clearly and concisely is unacceptable. So there’s that as well. These were my thoughts going forward.
Sarah suggested we all write ‘hello’ big on a piece of paper. I don’t remember what her intentions with this were, maybe to see how we tackle creating type by hand?
It was worth doing for me because I’m not a fan of type led design. It meant that I just had to get stuck in, and knowing next to nothing makes it really easy to learn something useful just about all the time. Some of the more observant readers will have noticed that I came looking for a degree in illustration, not to say that one can’t make delightful illustrated type, but like I always say ‘dammit, I just want to draw ninjas and robot!’. My interests are with comics, storyboards, book illustrations, poster art, concept art for video games, those sorts of things. Things more traditionally associated with, here’s that word again, illustration. This is why, following this exercise, I wanted to focus on making my text as image. Sarah had shown us some artwork to help inspire us and there were examples of, perhaps ‘calligram’ is the wrong word, but images of things that were constructed solely of words. It just wasn’t things like a heart shape made out of the repeated use of the word ‘heart’.
So I drew a monkey scratching it’s head. The question ‘Does it make sense?’ Makes up all of the form. ‘Does this’ is the body, ‘makes’ is the arm, ‘sense’ is the face. The ‘make’ being upside-down and the ‘sense’ being split up make comprehension far slower. This ties into my statements earlier about art vs design and the speed at which the reader is expected to understand your message.
In the tightened up version of my monkey, I added a furrowed brow to emphasise the confusion on the monkey’s face. If you’re really sharp and have far too much time on your hands you may have noticed I’ve made a rather large blunder. Last chance to look for it before I tell you… It’s not that obvious, because it involves the face, but the nose to the chin is a ‘c’. The face, with the exception of the brow marks, is made up of the word ‘sense’. There is no ‘c’ in ‘sense’. Oh dear. I now commit seppuku. Oh what an artist dies in me! Ahem.
I also produced a couple of alternate designs. The question is written in black letters dispersed amongst random white letters. Again, the idea was to slow the speed of comprehension.
The second version replaced the random letters with question marks. This wouldn’t have presented a strong enough deterrent to immediate understanding, but it is worth noting these ideas were purely formative. One must work through the initial ideas to get to something more interesting and productive. Please ignore the fact that my monkey was actually my first idea. It was born in response to the work of others, unlike the other two, which were effectively born in a vacuum, benefiting only from my inexperience with letterforms as the focal point of a design.
So that sums up the initial session on burning questions. I’ll see you next tim, same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!