Category: Design

Arriving at the possible futures of graphic design

Exhibition Review: All Possible Futures

All Possible Futures was held at SOMArts from January 14 to February 2013, 2014
All Possible Futures was held at SOMArts from January 14 to February 2013, 2014

What if graphic designers could create whatever they wanted? Instead of having to design yet another cool brochure or please a client, how would they do things differently? “All Possible Futures”, a recent exhibition showcasing a collection of “speculative work” by contemporary graphic designers gives some answers.

While “speculative work” in graphic design traditionally refers to hypothetical creations for clients that offer little or no fees, curator Jon Sueda has redefined it as projects that question the boundaries of the profession. He compares it to “paper architecture”, which are small-scale prototypes built by architects to test and present new ideas. Similarly, through mostly prints, as well as some videos, publications and installations, this exhibition at the SOMArts Cultural Center featured the experimental ideas of 37 graphic designers and studios across the US, UK, Holland and South Korea.

A highlight of the exhibition was an “Unrealised Archive” by Sueda to document failed design proposals from different studios. This display of conceptually fascinating work accompanied by interviews with the designers on why their proposals were rejected frames Sueda’s observation that edgy and experimental graphic design work often dies in the hands of clients. In one instance, designer Mr. Keedy created an identity as a typeface made up of logos and text for furniture retailer OK so that its staff could assemble an unlimited combination of images to express its brand. However, this 1999 design was never implemented because the client only wanted a “simple logo” and “not everyone wants to be a graphic designer”.

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Unrealised Archive

The works in the archive were telling of how clients (and most users) do not engage graphic design on this level, and why a lot of such work is bound for exhibitions like this. But it also shows that they are not always right. The idea of an identity as a system and typeface instead of a static image is now common place—as seen in the likes of the Walker Art Centre branding—and the profession is losing many intriguing ideas by depending solely on traditional forms of commission where clients and the market dictate what they want. It was this conclusion that led Sueda from just exhibiting an archive of rejects to include experimental projects by graphic designers in “All Possible Futures” too.

The expansion unfortunately relegated the archive to the back of the gallery, and the need to take an extra step to read the interviews from a single book meant most visitors probably missed the opportunity to rethink failed design proposals. However, there were plenty of other opportunities to look at graphic design beyond the surface, and consider how else it can be practiced. The rest of the works were spread across the open plan gallery and seem loosely arranged into four categories of experimentation: visual form, production methods, user participation as well as identity and representation.

Prints of a PenJet
31 PenJet prints (2007-2014)

The largest collection, which filled up a length of the rectangular space, showcased the results of designers rethinking how to produce a work. Many of them involve making by hand, which may be a reaction to how graphic design production has largely migrated to digital screens nowadays. Dutch trio Jaan Evart, Julian Hagen and Daniël Maarleveld turn this issue on its head by combining the personal writing tool of a pen with a mechanical print head, and the resulting “PenJet” machine outputs 31 prints of crudely scrawled words from its Frankenstein-like creation. The interplay of traditional and modern design tools also appears across two separate projects by CatalogTree. The Dutch studio silkscreened a set of X-ray like posters and created another series of portraits resembling contour maps with 3-D scanning. Despite the different mediums, the uncannily similar prints of line movements in both demonstrate how two technologies separated by decades shared a common element of light.

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Bots: Run 1-3 (2012)
Structured Light (2010)
Structured Light (2010)

This “hacking” of closed modes of design production goes a step further in another set of projects in the middle of the gallery which look at how users can participate in the creation of graphic design. Demonstrating this on-site was Moniker’s “Polychrome Fungus”, a snaking trail of rectangular stickers pasted on the floor by visitors that together formed some kind of exploded rainbow. The resulting visual chaos mirrored how the democratization of graphic design with desktop publishing has made the scene more colorful, but not necessarily legible. Another project that suggested an active, but more meaningful role, for users was in Peter Bil’ak’s Works That Work magazine. Readers of this publication on unexpected creativity are offered discounts to help sell it wherever they live, helping the magazine bypass traditional distributors who are expensive for small-run publishers.

Parts of Polychrome Fungus (2014)
Parts of Polychrome Fungus (2014)

While projects that commented on the process of creating graphic design were fresh and mostly made in the last three years, the remaining two types of projects investigating the meaning of graphic design and its practice seemed a little dated in comparison. The set of experimental works on visual form contained abstract prints by Karel Martens done between 1990 to 2004 and also a poster as a roller ball that ResearchCenteredDesign came up with a decade ago. Similarly, the experimental work on identity and representation included projects such as Lesley Moore’s 2004 “LM Logo Machine”, where users can play with a palette of graphic elements to create this studio’s identity, and Daniel Eatock’s “An Idea for…”, a collection of text descriptions as design works done in 2007. Looking at these projects that date further back in time, one wonders about the omissions of other historically significant projects such as Rudy VanderLans’ Emigre magazine, which was pushing the profession’s boundaries when it was published between 1984 to 2005. Most of the exhibition featured the newest experimental projects of the studios rather than the most impactful, so the inclusion of work from further back seemed odd.

Society of the Speculative (2014) button amongst others by Experimental Jetset
Society of the Speculative (2014) button (bottom right) amongst others by Experimental Jetset

“All Possible Futures” sheds light on a small but thriving community of the graphic design profession today using the banner of “speculative work”. Many of the same projects featured have also been classified elsewhere as “critical design”. What is the difference? The exhibition does not tackle this question. Exhibition participant Experimental Jetset even calls this out with a Guy Debord-inspired piece, “The Society of the Speculative” button which sits amongst a collection from its other works, suggesting that anything can fall into Sueda’s categorization, so why single out these set of projects? Every studio produces its share of ideas, proposals, experiments and failed work—and many of the work in this exhibition were a part of this output rather than serious suggestions on how else to produce and practice graphic design in the future. But that is perhaps the true value of this exhibition, making visible a process usually invisible to the public, and demonstrating that design is very much an exploration of possibilities—a future arrived at rather than received.

Planet Hillary: A great meme, not cover

Planet-Hillary

It looks like a head about to explode. Smack in the middle of a recent cover of The New York Times Magazine was the face of Hillary Clinton blown up into planetary proportions. This was for “Planet Hillary”, a story on the vast network of allies, friends and supporters that Hillary must manage if she was to successfully run for president in 2016.

Using the analogy of the universe, the cover turned Hillary into a planet surrounded by other cosmic elements such as “The Super-PAC Nebula” and “The Friends-of-Bill Black Hole”. While this concept sounds decent in theory, the cover looks less than stellar in reality.

Instead of resembling a celestial object, “Planet Hillary” looks more like a bloated orange juxtaposed against an image of the galaxy. The background is what defines the context and cover. It is also not immediately obvious whose face this is as we are only given a pair of eyes, a nose and a mouth to identify the subject. Even though the planet is the anchor element of this cover, it is the title, “Planet Hillary”, that tell us what we’re looking at.

Although some may take issue with this unflattering portrayal of the politician — and one wonders if there is an intention to poke fun at Hillary — the bigger problem is the cover is not very pretty. Not that all design has to be beautiful, but this looks like a crude rendering of the very first concept that came to the designer’s mind. Perhaps it was also a poor choice to use photography to execute this. It sets up an expectation of realism that is let down by how unreal this image looks. An illustrator might have been better in bringing out the fantasy universe this cover is trying to take us to.

The overall direction of this image also looks out of place with the style of Times Magazine covers. A glance through past issues show an intelligent use of photography and typography, as well as covers that have more depth and are open to interpretations. In contrast, the “Planet Hillary” cover is literal and one-dimensional, offering nothing more after the first look.

The one redeeming factor of this image is how absurd it looks — Hillary as a planet? While it fails to impress as a cover for the Times Magazine, its gimmicky visual messaging makes it prime for a few rounds of sharing and retweeting as just another slick Internet meme.

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Written for Steven Heller’s Researching Design class at D-Crit.

HHH: Vote for Hubert Horatio Humphrey!

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Just three letters said it all. In 1968, “HHH” could mean only one thing in the United States: Hubert Horatio Humphrey. He was the vice-president of the country, and more importantly, the Democratic Party candidate for the upcoming presidential elections.

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Like countless candidates before him, Humphrey’s face and name became integral visual elements of an election campaign. From picture posters to matchbooks, ceramic plates to calendars, and even cushions—Humphrey appeared everywhere and anywhere that year.

One of the cheapest and most widely available platform for advertising then was the button. Candidates gave out this small fashion accessory for free, and supporters who wore them became personal billboards for their campaign. The button is usually circular, although it has also been produced as tabs, lapels and other forms. Regardless of shape, the size of a button is always limited—typically ranging between 1 to 4 inches—so the message it carries has to be effective and economical.

LBJ

Recognizing what a mouthful his name was, Humphrey condensed it to “HHH” for the ‘68 campaign. He must have learnt from President Lyndon Baines Johnson, better known as LBJ, whom he had successfully run for office with just four years before. While the portrait of a candidate or his name was commonly used on a button since this marketing device was first introduced in the 1896 elections, the times were a’changing. As television took over the role of giving a face to the candidate from the 1950s, buttons could look more abstract. “HHH” not only fitted easily into a button, it combined to create a distinct logotype that was paired with different designs in various styles

This particular set of buttons have nothing else on them except “HHH” set in what looks like an extra condensed version of typeface News Gothic Bold. While the buttons of his competitor, Richard Nixon, came in the traditional patriotic colors of red, blue, and white, this set of Humphrey pins were unusual with their colorful mustard yellow and aqua green background. Perhaps it was a reminder of how Humphrey stood  up for the colored and was the main author of the Civil Rights Act. Or had the psychedelic ‘60s crept into the politics of this liberal candidate?

Additionally, these buttons do not match the official ones given out by the Democrats’ national committees. They could have been issued by local offices or commercial companies eager to cash in on the growing popularity of collecting campaign buttons. Just as how money and politics are so intertwined in the US, campaign buttons were commoditized. By 1973, a Hobby Protection Act was even enacted to protect collectors from imitation items that had flooded the market.

Several clues on these buttons suggest they are legitimate. Instead of having a separate safety pin on their backs, these buttons have bent pins integrated in them just like early designs. The edges of the buttons also have printed labels that read “Allied Printing”, presumably a historical union printer.

Pin+Allied

One thing is for sure: Humphrey’s campaign was unlike the orderly arrangement of the buttons’ design and their celebratory colors. In 1968, he not only struggled to overcome a Democratic party divided by the Vietnam War, the nominee kept coming up against angry anti-war protestors, which even led to police violence. Humphrey narrowly lost to Nixon, rendering “HHH” just another slogan of a failed presidential campaign.

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Written for Steven Heller’s Researching Design class at D-Crit.