Maurice Sendak on what being an illustrator means

This is lovely:

 

Notes on establishing and trying to sustain a response(able) and coherent everyday life/practice

Since returning to work I’ve been thinking about how the themes from my writing over the summer in context. As there’s now a practical outlet for these topics I’d like to update on how it’s going, and take a step towards defining a practical focus for those abstract ideas.

It’s challenging working five days a week and retaining your spark. However a creative practitioner somehow needs to keep the spark because that’s one of the main reasons we’re wanted; to provide inspiration, energy and ideas to situations and being inspired even when tired. Sustaining a response(able) everyday practice is about keeping that spark alive.

What does she mean by creative practitioner?
Anyone who values their creativity, and makes it a part of their work and everyday life. I’m experimenting with using this in an attempt to move away from the terms ‘designer’ or ‘artist’.

A twitter conversation with singer @sirenariley helped me define what I wanted this post to be about. She commented upon how she was working out how to diversify into other creative areas, and trying to do a little bit of everything. As someone who also tries to do a little bit of everything and balance paid work with other creative activity, my question to Sirena was; how does one combine all those little bits of everything into a creative practice? This provokes other questions such as; How do you sustain yourself financially and professionally, without giving up the creative activities you do purely for love, and at the same time allow yourself to diversify and experiment? Can a person take all those different strands and weave them into a cohesive fabric? How do we design what Michel Certeau refers to as “the fabric of everyday life?”

This idea of cohesiveness is somehow more interesting than sustainability. The idea of life being cohesive works better for me than being sustainable, because that’s what life does when it works; holds it together. A thriving ecosystem is cohesive, as is a well thought out concept, or a group of friends that hold each other up and together.

Warwick Fox (University of Central Lancashire) wrote an article in a 2007 issue of Resurgence about this called Responsive Cohesion; Thinking in Context. He redefines organisation as cohesion, but pairs cohesion with response to avoid the understanding that things holding together have to be fixed or rigid. Fox writes; “(things) can be organised in such a way that they hold together by virtue of the mutual interdependencies between (or mutual responsiveness of) their constituent elements”. When applied to everyday scenarios, maybe seeing the links between all those little bits of everything can help organise and sustain those elements as a part of everyday practice. Responding to those elements in context whilst seeing the links might aid sustain(ability). Fox makes the point that our brains are actually wired in this way; to carry out activities whilst thinking about others, and to make cross connections. It seems to want things to be cohesive is very natural, and aiming for a cohesive life isn’t just individualistic but for the greater good and a value to live by. The idea of responsive cohesion suggests not only happier and healthier people, but a more ecologically, socially, ethically and politically coherent world. In Fox’s words;

“In being responsive to your own goals and desires – that is, in living your life – do what you reasonably can do to preserve examples of the relational quality of responsive cohesion where you find them, regenerate or create examples of it in and through your chosen undertakings, reflect and reinforce it in your judgements and ways of proceeding and so on[...]when you make things, make them so that they exemplify both contextual and internal responsive cohesion. The thing to aim for is responsive cohesion at all levels. To settle for less is actually to settle for a failure of design”.

This responsiveness at all levels relates to an element of my thesis; everyday practice as interface for change. This idea was that on an individual level we can address our attitudes, identity, environment and relationships in order to create positive change through everyday practice and life. At the same time, we can collectively or individual responsiveness within this practice to go through the same process.

In writing this, I suppose having a practical context to apply these ideas to makes me ask this; what makes a practice coherent enough to sustain? Identifying the elements that make things work (at work, and for me as a person) is helpful in evolving these ideas, and I hope are interesting to others. So here are some notes on the things I’m trying to integrate into an everyday practice, and some of the things I’m finding challenging.

Elements that help me sustain a cohesive everyday practice:

Getting up early. Not ridiculously early though, like 7.30. This doesn’t always happen but things go better when it does.

Taking time out (as a part of a working day). Even if things are crazy, 10 minutes of quiet time and reflection are never impossible. This sometimes involves a 10 minute walk around place of work to take a few photographs, or taking myself for a cup of tea.

Listening to music, lots of it. Finding music in the morning particularly helpful.

Being responsive to others; colleagues, friends and family equally.

Being kind and empathetic in communications. There’s a little saying which goes ‘smile and it’ll come back to you’ – this is true and kind of makes life worth living.

Exercise; not making time for this makes everything go horribly wrong fairly quickly.

Finding something to be inspired by every day. The energy that comes from being inspired doesn’t just fall in your lap, you have to go out and get it.

Having everyday tools and equipment ready to go. Laptop, camera, sketchbook and pens need to be in one place, not all over the shop.

Reading something thought provoking every day. Intellectual stimulation prevents boredom.

Real, meaningful conversations; making the effort to communicate with people on an engaging level rather than talking about the weather.

Laughing, having fun, not taking it all too seriously. Relives tension, builds friendships. Again, makes life worth living

Building in other creative activity; trying to hold onto dreams like writing poetry or singing and not letting them go. Trying to at least think about these things at some point every day.

Looking at people, environments and things as much as the screen. Easy to forget this one, but important for happiness and eyesight!

Current barriers to a cohesive everyday practice

Lack of understanding of structure. This is coming gradually, but is slow and painful at times. As someone who struggles with routine and general admin, I am starting to see that technology can help me, and might finally move away from written diaries to something online. Fairly reluctant about this still.

Being assertive in communications. People communicate very differently in business than in education, I had forgotten this. I think a certain amount of communicating in context needs to come in here, and generally getting to the point quicker.

Money (lack of); it’s hard to be really mobile and not spend a fortune on food and coffees. I cannot  possibly sustain the amount of money I’ve spent on food over the last month or two.

Messiness; as previous colleagues know, I spend my working time as a little island in a sea of paper around me. I cannot work like this anymore, and should at least aim to end the day with a tidy(ish) desk. This is challenging.

Realising what date it is. Really quite basic and easy. Some sort of wall week planner might help.

That’s it for now. I’ll do this again in a few weeks after some wider research on creative practice.

It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being there for yourself and more cohesive so that you can be better and there for each other, therefore working better as groups and in relationships so we can purposefully achieve more (and enjoy it). It’s also not about being really hard on yourself and accepting that things go a little (or a lot) off plan sometimes and falling with the flow, rather than being knocked over by it. Fox describes responsive cohesion in terms of a symphony or piece of music. When thinking about everyday practice in this context, maybe it’s simply about responding to and designing a tempo, over which all those ‘little bits of everything’ can weave a melody. Routine is dull but rhythm certainly isn’t; it’s only when you feel the beat can you really let go and express yourself whilst sustaining the performance to the end of the song.

I’d love to know what elements of your everyday creative practice are helpful and what barriers you come across, so please comment?

Illustration vs photography in visual journalism

Well, I was just messing around with one of the shots I took today for the previous post. Here is it:

With that post, I was conducting a mild experiment with visual journalism as I like the idea of reporting and storytelling through drawings. There’s something funny going on however; I kind of prefer the photograph. It’s much more compelling (maybe because it’s a bit scary).

To be honest I’m not sure how I feel about this after being such a strong advocate of drawing as communication, and am on the verge of abandoning the idea. Somehow I would like to integrate drawing and photography, but need to see how they might interact first. Spending quality time finding new techniques is demanding on top of a day job, but I think that’s going to have to happen if this visual journalism thing is going to work for me, because I don’t think a decision between the two mediums is going to be made.

Does anyone have any good examples of image-makers who combine illustration and photography well?

Angela Palmer’s Ghost Forest: From the Tropics to Trafalgar

Today I came across Ghost Forest: From the Tropics to Trafalgar today, where artist Angela Palmer aims to connect the public with climate change by exhibiting 10 rainforest tree stumps from a regulated, commercially logged tropical rainforest in Ghana. The juxtaposition between the tree stumps and the setting is moving. Many of these trees would stand at the same height of Nelson’s column, but because they’ve been destroyed spectators can only compare them to the urban environment. The image of the lifeless roots silhouetted against the column and the blue sky struck me as a powerful metaphor for climate change:

As is the rotting carcass of a once proud tree now lying strapped to a plinth outside the National Gallery:

The audience (myself included) were incredibly engaged, which was partially fueled by the infographics on display as well as the physical experience:

The level of information was complex, but well communicated and absorbed. There was a lot of energy in the space, with dynamic conversation and questions flying around. I also noticed a lot of quiet reflection, if this man hadn’t read that he was looking at the root of a Cyclicodiscus Gabunensis (which are used in heavy duty flooring, marine piling, bridges, railway sleepers and heavy construction work) would he have contemplated it for quite so long?

As one gentleman I passed by remarked:

The mix of experiential learning and traditionally displayed information at Ghost Forest makes the exhibition a memorable and educational event for all ages.It’s only on until tomorrow, otherwise you can catch it in Copenhagen!

Introducing Particular Poems

I’m trying to commit to posting something every week, and not knowing what to write about at the moment I’d like to introduce a new category: Particular Poems. This will involve sharing a poem, and the reasons why it’s particular. Kicking off the first post in this category is the brilliant Ros Barber, who is interesting because she used to be a scientist before turning to poetry. I hope you enjoy her work. If you want to read more, I recommend How Things Are on Thursday.

How to Leave the World that Worships “Should” by Ros Barbar

Let faxes butter-curl on dusty shelves.
Let junkmail build its castles in the hush
of other people’s halls. Let deadlines burst
and flash like glorious fireworks somewhere else.
As hours go softly by, let others curse
the roads where distant drivers queue like sheep.
Let e-mails fly like panicked, tiny birds.
Let phones, unanswered, ring themselves to sleep.

Above, the sky unrolls its telegram,
immense and wordless, simply understood:
you’ve made your mark like birdtracks in the sand -
now make the air in your lungs your livelihood.
See how each wave arrives at last to heave
itself upon the beach and vanish. Breathe.

Why Particular?

This poem is particular because it’s been in my life for some time now, and recently popped up again in a book re-arranging session. I found it at first by chance, or maybe it found me. Even though it was a random discovery this poem helped me do many things, and helped me see a little better the way I wanted to live. Ros has appeared at other key moments too. On a research weekend at Pines Caylx (where I met the wonderful John Wood), one of her poems was in their poetry garden. Coming across that felt like a moment of grace, and following that inspiring weekend, revisiting the above poem gave me the final push I needed to apply for Design Futures. The other coincidence was that Ros is actually linked to Goldsmiths, I went to a reading of hers last year and finally heard this poem read aloud by Ros herself. Chatting to someone on the way out resulted in making a very lovely friend, another way this poem has helped me.

I love How to Leave the World That Worships ‘Should’ because it’s about communication. Email, Twitter and Social Media are incredible; they’ve done a lot for me and many people I know. However, these things by themselves make for a very empty life. The people really worth communicating with seem to be the ones who make the effort to communicate face-to-face, or at least to pick up the phone sometimes. Also, we spend so much time worrying about what tools we “should” be using or doing that it’s easy to forget what we’re actually saying and how we’re living. Sometimes it’s just really good for you to be ir(response)able in order to rediscover those things. I accept these tools and technology as a positive part of everyday practice, but only if I make equal effort and take response(ability)to get out there to communicate with other people, the environment and myself. Breathe.

I agree

Some inspiration from across the pond

Too many posts brewing and not enough time to write them all! In the absence of the usual long-winded ramble I’d like to share some inspiration from today. At Reos we’ve been working with AED on a proposal, who have kindly sent the lovely Anne Quito all the way from Washington DC to help. Anne has been the director of the visual communications studio at AED for 9 years now, which produces some great materials including the gorgeous design ignites change poster above. We were also inspired by these cute tote bags:

I was impressed and inspired by the way Anne manages to run an efficient department which produces such fresh looking materials. One thing I’ve noticed about a lot of North American design is a bigger emphasis on illustration and colour, and often a very sensitive approach to typography. This seems a fitting approach to communicating social change, and these practical elements combined convey high impact without feeling aggressive.

Design indeed ignites change, and the smallest spark can start the strongest of fires. These unexpected gifts added a lot of warmth to my day, so thank you Anne!

Long Overdue: A Tribute to Ralph Steadman

Last week I received an envelope with Goldsmiths stamped on it in red ink. I opened it eagerly in anticipation of my MA grades, only to reveal a letter telling me I couldn’t get them because I am in debt to the college. Having thought I’d tied up all the loose ends, an hour of phone calls and searching uncovered a sneaky library book that slipped my attention, resulting in a £3.70 fine (gasp). The book in question is Between the Eyes by Ralph Steadman; a kind of visual journey of his life and work, which is neither completely autobiographical or chronological. For those of you not familiar, Steadman is a British illustrator and cartoonist (born 1936).

You can read all about him here, but he’s best know for his social and political work, and collaborations with the writer Hunter S. Thompson. One of my favourite books is Steadman’s tribute to the famous author’s cat; The book of Jones; a beautifully written and illustrated little book about one of my favourite subjects (cats):

I love the way the character of Jones is expressed in the simplest of line drawings:

It’s ironic that a Steadman book is the book I subconsciously tried to steal from college, because Ralph Steadman has been a big hero of mine for years. Apart from the diversity of his experience (not just illustrating, but writing and visual journalism) I admire his expressiveness, quality of line and the way that he’s not afraid of making marks. His images always hit  you between the eyes (hence the title) and have a powerful visual presence. As the blurb of the book reads; “Steadman uses lines and blots to condemn injustices, expose hypocrisy and exorcise his own fears about what humanity would do to itself unchecked”.

The other reason it’s odd that I’ve been hanging onto this book is that back in the summer whilst freelancing at Reos, we looked at Ralph Steadman’s style as inspiration for materials used in The Finance Lab workshops. There’s a great book by Will Self and illustrated by Steadman, called Pschogeoography: Disentangling the Modern Conundrum of Psyche and Place in which Mia and I found a skyline drawing of his that inspired a skyline sketch of London which we used in the visual communications design:

The final coincidence is that whilst at The Tricycle in Kilburn last weekend, what was hanging in the café, but an original Steadman? Of course I went nuts with enthusiasm (I’ve never seen an original before) and proceeded to embarrass my date by asking the people sitting in front of it to move for a second so I could get a picture. Here it is, apologies for bad lighting and iPhone quality pictures:

And here it is in the book! (bottom left):

Steadman may be a visual hero of mine, but this admiration is inspired by the way he thinks. In Between the Eyes his writing ranges from humor and stories to asking big questions like “Is it not possible for art schools to re-establish themselves as protectors of values?”. Whether drawing or writing (and he uses a lot of handwriting), he is warm, passionate, political, humourous, dark, giving, eloquent, shocking and subtle all at the same time. Whilst complex, Steadman is touched by the simplicity of life which make Between the Eyes a book of startling yet delicate contrast.

Next to the image in the book of the drawing I saw at the Tricycle is a passage comparing the perception of writers with artists;

“[writers] have always been regarded as the purveyors of useable knowledge. They have a way with words. An artist’s work is ephemeral and unearthly; remote and personal, to be enjoyed only in an arena of society’s choice…If there are people out there shaping our futures, then artists are people too”
(p204)

I agree, and Ralph certainly lives in and explores that space between what it means to be a writer and an artist. With increasing strength of feeling, I feel this is the space I would like to occupy. In whatever form, Steadman pays attention to and communicates humanity in it’s essence; alive and feeling. This resonates with the point of my dissertation; communicating through whatever medium a concern for and a love of life. Ralph Steadman is a master of this, which is why I admire him so much.

Books find you for a reason, and having only just started to read this one properly, I’m rather upset to have to give it back. I could just order a different one on Amazon but for some obscure reason I’m quite attached to this copy (some secret thrill-seeking fantasy of stealing library books probably). However, it’s not mine, it’s probably served it’s purpose and now is the time to let go which is really sad, but at least we’ve had a lovely time together.

Revisiting Goldsmiths will be fun too. I’ll report back on the experience later this week.

Georgina Combes: Creative Communicator

This is just a brief post to blog about a recent mini-project: identity and business card design for Georgina Combes, who has just set up as a freelance creative communicator. She has diverse experience in communicating causes related to sustainability and international development. From setting up a charity in Ghana to engaging and inspiring audiences to live and work sustainably, she’s been all over the place including a recent stint in the jungle on Raleigh International. George is a fabulous copywriter and conceptual thinker; this is one creative lady with a whole bunch of interests. Aside from the day job, she’s a bike fanatic, an Africa enthusiast, and a devotee to great coffee. A crafty communicator, she walks the sustainable talk by knitting, sewing and making big pots of food sourced from her local community.

George really wanted to use the letter ‘G’ in her identity, and wanted it to be hand-drawn to communicate her fresh, natural approach. We also wanted to design something to convey George’s enthusiasm for what she does. A dab hand with an SLR, she has some great photos from her travels, projects and everyday life. We chose five images for her cards to reflect the diversity of her experience, not of her work but passion and energy. The ones we chose include the kids George worked with in Africa and her Pashley bike (AKA the Princess).

This isn’t the most sophisticated or cutting edge of identities. The image crop could have been better on some of the cards and I could have evolved the ‘G’ to a whole new typographic level, but I’m not sure this matters. George loves her cards because she co-designed them, and I love that they express the essence of George; energetic, vibrant, passionate and fun.

When working as a graphic designer, you usually take a brief and come up with the design away from the client. I’ve pretty much stopped working like that now and have started working much more closely with the client or colleague to get their input on the design, and am finding this so much more rewarding. Helping someone work out what they want and who they want to be is perhaps one of the most underplayed (and one of the most satisfying) aspects of being a designer. Identity design can be a tiny little thing that puts a huge smile on someone’s face, which makes any end product more than good enough for me.

For those in need of creative communications, George is on georginacombes@gmail.com.

The iPhone and I

Excitedly yet somewhat reluctantly, I’ve just become the owner of an iPhone. This new experience has reminded me of an old Crossed Wires post, in which I wrote about a new phone and I thought I’d do the same now. The addition of the internet on the iPhone has taken my thinking on this topic to new heights, and before it becomes a part of my everyday existence I’d like to think about what my relationship with this new piece of technology might be. At the same time I’d like to explore some ideas about how mobile online technologies are affecting the way we communicate as human beings as part of a topic I keep revisiting; the importance of face-to-face communication in a virtual world.

The iPhone is an incredible device which allows us now to not just communicate in multiple ways when mobile. So far, the features I’ve been most interested in are the organisational tools like email and diary, and the maps (I get lost a lot). Intrigued by the voice recorder  and other tools which enable the user to take a more journalistic and research based approach to things, I look forward to finding out how these can expand my everyday practice. Not one to play games, I haven’t checked out any of those but elements of the iPhone look like lots of fun; such as the camera, YouTube and Flickr.

In terms of communication, I find myself instantly drawn to the social tools and applications since becoming a bit of a convert to all of that. Social media and communications can expand the world, our perceptions, and the way we communicate. Distant friends and relatives are closer, business is easily conducted anywhere, and the mobility of this is liberating. New connections are maintained more easily, and networks can rapidly evolve and grow. Mobile devices now give us instant access to all of this, and we now have the capacity to be always connected to each other.

However, this constant connectivity has a shadow side. Everything in life is a double edged sword, and whilst I’m trying to focus on the iPhones positive features I think it important to identify in what ways it might be potentially harmful as well as helpful. What are technologies like the iPhone doing to the way we talk to each other? In a wireless world, are we the ones who are being disconnected? I’m interested in finding out how being constantly connected affects our ability to be present with each other and ourselves.

One of the things that troubles me is that it’s becoming very easy to spend too much time out there in the ether. It’s easier to communicate and collaborate which is positive in many ways, but it’s also easier to do this without talking face-to-face. Whilst this is convenient, it contains an element of emptiness. Social media and online communications facilitate many new connections, but without face-to-face communication it’s also easier for any relationship to go off the rails. Limiting face-to-face communication increases the chance of people mixing meanings, misreading each other and generally getting the wrong end of the stick.

Online, we read what someone wants to project rather than the real person, it is only in the physical presence of other people we can work out what’s really going on and those involved can come out of situations with shared meaning, vision and value. For example if you hardly ever meet a client face-to-face it’s hard as a designer to work out what the hell they want from you, and this increasingly awkward atmosphere is only broken by communicating with the client in person.

The complexities of identity cannot be read from behind a screen and I’m seeing an emergent trend in which people assume they ‘know’ someone because they ‘know’ them online. In social media we can project and craft the image we want people to see, whereas in the flesh we are imperfect, impulsive, neurotic, emotional, fearful and I believe, far more beautiful and interesting than a projected self.

In It’s Not How Good You Are, it’s How Good You Want to Be, Paul Arden warns not to “put your cleverness in front of the communication”. I have my reservations about the title of that book and some of Arden’s opinions, but in relation to this post he has a great point. Real, heartfelt communication is so much more meaningful and in this increasingly virtual world it is braver and more response(able) to try and do things face-to-face honestly and imperfectly, rather than trying to be clever about things.

We use the term telecommunications, but forget that tele (from the greek I think) means distant. Although social media brings us all closer in some ways, this happens either side of an invisible wall of glass that only face-to-face communication can break the spell of. It is a response(ability) not to forget this, and to still place value on face-to-face interaction. As Laura pointed out in a recent conversation, our brains aren’t wired like the networks. In terms of evolution, it’s vital we remember this because whilst liberating, always being connected carries it’s stresses and psychological implications. There is an implicit danger that devices like the iPhone might push us to evolve into rubbish communicators who don’t know how to talk to each other. It is not intelligent behaviour to email the person sitting next to you, instead of asking them a simple question out loud. In general we British are scared to say how we feel face-to-face, and as a nation seem to lack the ability to just say it like it is. I hope the iPhone doesn’t reinforce these tendencies. Technologies can be a talking point, but we need to know when to put the damn thing away and pay attention to each other.

On a different and brief note, the two year contract is another commitment the iPhone carries which affects my feelings about it. Quite frankly I’ve had numerous moments of wondering whether it’s worth the hassle and if O2 are taking everyone for a ride, as it seems other service providers may make better offers.

Despite all these reservations, there might be a way forward. Elements of the situation are worrying but every story can be spun into something helpful. Tanja has assured me that the iPhone won’t bite, and that I’ll fall more and more in love with the iphone every day. Whilst the contract ensures this is more than a brief flirtation, I’m not yet sure that love is on the agenda. For this collaboration to feel right the iPhone will have to invite me to live more of my life away from a screen (not behind it). It will have to not affect face-to-face conversations in a negative way, and not remind me of my work emails every five seconds.

Of course I realise that this is a two way process which requires equal effort to find ways of working together. Being happy with mobile technologies require a degree of self control and awareness (i.e. not checking your email every five seconds), so they don’t take over your life. That could take a while but anything worth having takes a little time, and nothing worthwhile is ever easy. Sustainability of relationships is constant awareness of the situation and effort to make them work. That effort can be a lot of fun, which I hope the quirks of the iPhone and my slightly odd sense of humour will provide.

Whilst ever-optimistic, it seems the iPhone and I are both in need of a little encouragement.  A greater emphasis on face-to-face communication is the way forward if we are to maintain our social skills as human beings. My mixed emotions about the iPhone haven’t resulted in passing judgement on it yet, but if the thing doesn’t inspire me to engage in more real communication, the whole thing is pointless. I hope not, but time and a little honest effort will tell.

A lack of conclusion would imply that this post needs a sequel but from now on the iPhone and I will be working this one out in the real world; the only place we might begin to understand each other.

Pretty in Ink

I took these shots in the art shop earlier. I’ve always liked the look of these inks; on the shelf they look stunning. However I’ve never tried them out and am wondering if the inside product is as beautiful as the packaging. Trying a new material is always a slightly nervous experiment; you don’t know how it behaves, how it’s going to feel and how it might change the way you do things. It can be disappointing or a total waste of time but I guess if you don’t give it a chance, you’ll never know what it could do for you and your work. Does anyone else use these, or have any thoughts on expanding materials for an illustrative practice?

A small note for the future

One of my many pipe dreams is to open a café, not just any café though; it’s some kind of creative hub and place to bring people together. This is possibly combined with another purpose or multiple purposes. I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently, and discovering Chez Emily around the corner from the office last week was a spooky occurrence. Maybe these two things are somehow related, as I know Zaid wants to set up a Reos café.

This small note introduces a future possible topic: the café as an interface for meta-communication and catalyst for creativity. More to come!

From Chaos emerges Order (sort of)

After two weeks in a new job, I thought it was time for a little reflection. At the same time I’ve finally separated my home work and sleeping space, which reminded me of an earlier post in which I reflected on the state of my mind through the environment I was working and living in. This isn’t just me, a lot of people I know (actually just about everyone) seems to have just been through a chaotic and difficult few months, and are emerging from it much stronger people.

It’s incredible how in the space of a couple of weeks how everything makes so much more sense (even though my head is still spinning from information overload). The last 18 months have been pretty scattered and chaotic, which all came to a head this summer. I went a little nuts, was way too into my emotional headspace, and generally over-reacted to situations. This however was entirely my choice because it was a space I’d created myself, and there might have been good reasons for this. I was reading something about the idea of soulfulness the other day, and the author was writing about the way people subconsciously suspend parts of their minds or everyday activities temporarily in order to complete a specific project. Somewhere deep down inside, we must know we have to go through periods of chaos in order to evolve. I met the fabulous Rachael West at Greengaged the other day, who has also been writing about chaos. She asks the question; “Is the chaos real, or something we dream up to force (inspire?) change”. I wonder if we design our own chaos because we know within ourselves that there’s a place we need to get to, and because ultimately it develops us as human beings? The brilliantly clever Laura Sorvala thinks so. She makes her debut on the blogging scene with this post about chaos and balance where she comments;

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger – or should I say more cohesive, united. A little chaos might just be needed every once in a while to regain the balance lost in the workings of our society. A little hardening can do most of us good and remind us of the existence of our guts.”

She’s right too. A bit of madness helps you learn a lot about yourself, and kind of relaxes and reshuffles your identity and ideals in a helpful way. I’ll always remember a girl I met on my travels in Canada saying “you learn so much more about yourself when you let go of who you think you are”, which certainly rings true right now.

There isn’t a turning point where chaos becomes order, that would be too simple. However there do seem to be spaces between where we realise how much we’ve learnt from crazy times. The novelist and journalist Chuck Palahniuk has been quoted as saying “real discoveries come from chaos”, and the emergence of a new space is an opportunity to apply those discoveries and learning to everyday life. In saying this though, it’s healthy to embrace a little chaos in everyday life and be open about it, because we’re only human, and too much order would be far too boring for words.

Do Opposites Interact?

As part of a great weekend, Laura and I checked out some great exhibitions. At design geek hangout Design Overtime on Friday night, we caught the end of the Super Contemporary show at the Design Museum and also the Mariscal: Drawing Life exhibition. I enjoyed parts of Super Contemporary. The wooden timeline layout was effective and a good reminder of all the UK design history I had forgotten:

Although I found Super Contemporary interesting, it didn’t really hold my attention. Now maybe I’m just not a super contemporary kind of girl, but aside from the effects of a crazy week there was a lack of energy in the space (something I often feel in the Design Museum). I feel there’s usually something a little sterile about the space and curation style of the main exhibitions.

This feeling was confirmed to me as we ascended to the Mariscal exhibition on the top floor. Javier Mariscal is a Spanish illustrator-designer who applies his work to a variety of outcomes, including furniture, textiles, graphic identity, print materials and animation. As we walked into the exhibition, my waning energy was restored by the vitality in the hanging drawings in the entrance.

We were revitalised by oversized letterforms:

And inspired by graphic identities with real personality:

Personally I enjoyed Mariscal’s handwritten philosophies, which resonated with my own sketchy thought processes:

I felt so much more alive walking around the Mariscal exhibition than Super Contemporary, even though Mariscal is a commercial illustrator. I’m doing bits of graphic design again now and quite enjoying it, but illustration and drawing move me in ways that finished, polished end projects never will. My design work will always be more illustrative, and I was inspired by the way Mariscal worked across such a range of different media.

Super Contemporary and Mariscal represent two very different ways of looking at design. They seem in lots of ways opposites, but this is food for further thought as I wonder in what ways they are similar; asking what interaction (if anything) exists between the two. At the same time I begin to see potential ways of combining my passion for drawing and art with more traditional graphic design in my new job. Most of all I wonder how to sustain that feeling of really living, through making something human and beautiful through physical touch, in a world of digital and virtual communication. A few ideas might emerge over the coming weeks, I’ll keep you posted!

From Dreams to Direction

I’m happy to report that after many turbulent months of studying, working things out and uncertainty I’ve got a new job! For at least the next 3 months I’ll be working as an interdisciplinary visual communicator for Reos Partners, who were the readers for my dissertation. They’re an innovative team who design and facilitate change processes with multi-stakeholder groups, and it’s a great opportunity to put my ideas into practice. One of the things the Design Futures course encouraged us to do was to define how we’d like to work in a dream situation, and I can’t quite believe that some of these things are happening. We’re still working out exactly what my job will be, which will be design-illustration focused, but include lots of other activities too. Once again it’s jumping in at the deep end, as I try and absorb all the new information (whilst remembering to breathe, and eat…)

The funny thing is, I didn’t want to be a designer anymore. I was dead set on being an independent freelance illustrator, and yet I couldn’t be happier about this new part of my life and all the people it’s going to involve. Now I realise that the urge to be freelance was for me, prompted by previously trying to make myself be someone I wasn’t at work, combined with a strong reluctance to be ‘managed’ in the traditional sense. Being an independent professional was largely an attempt to protect myself from these things.

Meeting the lovely folk from Reos and studying for a year has helped me realise that who you really are doesn’t have to be reserved for special occasions. Keeping work and personal identities completely separate works better for some people, but I think I’d rather save myself the bother. Although just being yourself can be the hardest thing in the world, it makes life so much easier. We can still have other identities to paid work (I’d really like to build one as a fiction writer/illustrator) but they don’t necessarily have to be hidden. These realisations may finally awaken my commitment to a job that lasts beyond 18 months, I hope so.

It seems to take a really, really long time to realise that people accept us exactly the way we are, but this realisation awakens true confidence. This confidence is not a front or an act, but a revealing of self (past, present and future) that openly accepts things like fear, vulnerability, pain and uncertainty and works with them to make something stronger. Being around people who believe in you is essential to this.

New connections expand us in ways we never thought possible. I’m a little nervous about this,  it’s going to be challenging and very different to past experience. Parts of it could almost certainly drive me crazy. If it doesn’t work out then something else will come along, although that would be a little sad. There’s absolutely no security and certainty beyond the next 3 months (or even beyond that at this stage). However, I think I would rather dive in headfirst with passion to experience this, than stand at the edge, too scared to jump. Surely this is one of the simplest purposes of design; to explore what might be possible beyond what we originally thought?

‘Moments’ in Fish Tank and Everyday Life

Last night I went to see Andrea Arnold’s Fish Tank at the pictures. It’s an incredible film! Read a full synopsis here, I don’t want to spoil it for anybody but felt the urge to write about the cinematography. The film is mostly set in run-down built-up parts of Essex. Much of the film takes place on the council estate that the main character Mia lives on, which involves imagery with a hard, concrete aesthetic. This is given atmosphere via Mia’s moods, mostly angst and anger in the habitat she has spent her troubled life so far.

However, this urban aesthetic is broken when Mia finds something natural in this environment, when she experiences love, or when she dances. The harsh gritty feel that accompanies the flow of the film is interrupted by achingly beautiful scenes where the images soften, and the camera drifts in and out of focus with sensitive depth of field. For example she finds a horse tied up in a yard, having probably spent hardly any time in her life around animals. When she walks towards and touches the animal the timing slows right down to convey the intensity of the experience. There are some lovely shots of Mia reaching out towards and touching the horse.

Moments in the film where Mia experiences intimacy also have these qualities, which draws you into the atmosphere between her and the other person.

However I thought the best shots were the scenes where Mia dances (she’s into R&B/hophop/soul) because that’s the time when she can express her true character without constraints.  there’s a scene where she dances to headphones, in which the viewer can’t hear the music, and she’s silhouetted against the twinkling lights of the city from an abandoned apartment in her estate at dusk.

Here the camera follows her outstretched hand reaching towards the open window.

And another scene where she dances in front of a window with a streetlight outside:

Some of these moments in Fish Tank almost made my heart stop beating (stills don’t do it justice, you have to see the film). These moments express what Mia really wants to be; near nature, loved and free rather than hard and angry. Moving image makes these moments of freedom sing out from the oppressive urban atmosphere of Mia’s environment, and remind me of one of my favourite quotes from the character Dominique Francon in Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead;

“They say the heart of the earth is made of fire. It is held imprisoned and silent. But at times it breaks through the clay, the iron, the granite, and shoots out to freedom”

Paying attention to the cinematography in this particular film reinforced for me the idea that art has the ability to elevate the most everyday of experiences, and show the meaning and beauty in them. It also reminded me how certain moments in everyday life just seem to slow right down and re-connect us with who we really are, and how this happens through the same things as in Fish Tank; being in nature, connection and intimacy with another person/people, or creatively expressing ourselves through the things we love doing the most.

Integrating our Intents

Today I came across www.intent.com via the Resurgence magazine facebook group. It asks the question “what is your intent today” whilst also featuring diverse articles on relationships, the planet, spirit and success. I think it’s great, and the intents posted on there are very everyday yet incredibly powerful. Here’s a few examples:

“My Intent is to get the most out of my therapy”

“My Intent is to step outside my comfort zone at least once a day”

“My Intent is to believe in the path I am on.”

Discovering intent.com resonated with a section of my dissertation on navigating process, in which I explored the idea of intent through the yogic definition, or Drishti in Sanskrit. In yoga theory, this vision or intent means a point of focus where the gaze rests during practice to aid concentration. The drishti alters in each pose, and although a fixed gaze, the eyes are always soft and never straining. Drishti can also be used when the eyes are closed, as intent in the eye of the mind. I find the idea that you can sense your intention without seeing it both beautiful and moving. This may also involve a certain amount of acceptance of the unknown, or what Otto Scharmer (Author of Theory U) refers to as “letting come, letting go”.

As a bit of a hippy at heart, I’m comfortable with yoga theory and the concept of letting go. I also think all of this is anything but hippy talk, as pragmatic philosophy and spirituality (and by spiritual I don’t mean religious) begins to feature more prominently in everyday life. This could signal a very deep and passionate response to some kind of emotional need to look at the way we live and interact. More spiritual concepts of intention relate to Systems Thinking (like Theory U, a concept popular in some types of business, controversial in others) where all systems have a purpose “even if that goal is only survival”  (O’Connor & McDermott, 1997).

Good intentions may not be enough, as the road to hell might well be paved with good ones. However the meeting of philosophical, spiritual thinking and pragmatic planning and action has the potential help us see the bigger picture. I believe that deep down, we’re all asking the same questions and unless I’ve got my wires severely crossed, creative communication between these two areas is taking place. Watch this space and others to find out what happens next. I’m seeing some sparks there, will they start to fly?

The most beautiful live illustration/animation I have ever seen

My sister’s boyfriend just showed me this and I had to share it immediately, it’s a Ukrainian artist on a TV talent show. Incredibly moving and beautiful is all I have to say about it, and that it beats vectors hands down. Check out her other videos too!

The Space Between

MADF 2008-9 taking a class on Goldsmiths Green

I’m taking a few days out after handing in my dissertation for Design Futures, which seems like a bit of a distant dream right now. It feels ]good but weird, in the way that finishing anything big feels strange in an emotional anti-climax type of way. It’s always the process that’s the most interesting and exciting part, rather than the end.

So, thank you MA Design Futures for a very precious year. I’ve been lucky enough to spend every Monday for 10 months with Jiwon Kim, Sujin Ha, Ivan Nascimento, Sanaz Esfahani, Ming Chun Chen, Lily Wang, Nour Diab Yunes, Seo Young Kim and Samia Mehdi. We’ve all enjoyed the excellent teaching of Hannah Jones, Mathilda Tham and Julia Lockheart, who help make the course what it is. This very special programme wouldn’t exist without the wonderful John Wood, who through setting up Design Futures has designed a space in which to dream, and make the impossible seem a little more possible. It’s been really, really special.

Having finished, I’m feeling a little suspended in between that, and the next thing. Hopefully I’ve got a new job, but won’t find out for a few days. If not, I’ll be continuing to freelance and look for collaborations.

These spaces between are for looking forward and remembering. As well as having a break, I’ve been filing and archiving old work, having a clear out and looking back over the last few years. Old bits of admin, visuals, photographs, notes and sketchbooks have filled this space between with nostalgia, memories and contemplation about not just the future, but past situations. Letting go of things past doesn’t mean forgetting or hiding them away, but respecting them and integrating them with who you are and might become. Basically, no more shoving the past away in scrappy shoeboxes. It deserves a little more than that.

This space is also for getting a fresh perspective on how present situations are merging with the past and future. A bit of overlap is probably healthy, and I’m thinking about how I will continue to apply my ideas to creative endeavors and everyday life. Whatever happens it’ll be exciting, like a blank canvas with a few thoughts projected onto it. I’m planning on approaching that canvas with a serious application of optimism, fun and energy.

The climate seems to be changing in more ways than one. Everyone I know seems to be doing something new or embracing a change. Mike Hulme writes about this collective personal change in his recent book: Why We Disagree About Climate Change: Understanding Controversy, Inaction and Opportunity; “Climate Change is not a problem waiting for a solution, but the “unfolding story of an idea, and how this idea is changing the way we think, act and feel”. I think unfolding stories seem like a more interesting and challenging response to things than an immediate result.

Harking back to a related post, I’m still not sure what the hell is going on (who is?) but whatever is just around the corner looks pretty inspiring and feels good too. So here’s to not painting finished pictures of the future, and sketching it out as we go in the space between, maybe I’ll see you there?

Finished! (For now)

Well, I finished off my dissertation which is due in this Friday. It’s at the printers right now ready to be picked up tomorrow! I am terrified of opening both the file and the real document, because I know there’s some pretty shaky grammar in there, but it’s done which is what matters.

Having just recovered from writing the whole thing in about three weeks, I thought I’d share a few (in)conclusions from the process. It was really tough, physically and emotionally, which I wasn’t expecting. Writing for hours in a room on your own is rubbish, and doing that has made me promise myself never to do a doctorate unless I can write it in a room with other people. It made me realise how important collaboration and working with others is to me.

The last three weeks have been a real learning process, of many rapid realisations where what I thought I wanted to write about changed completely. From Illustrating Change as a general title, the title is now:

Illuminating Ourselves: Understanding and Communicating Response(ability) in Creative Practice and Everyday Life.

I’m not going to write about the whole thing now, because of trying to have some space from it, and because I’m sure everyone (including me) is sick of the word thesis. If anyone would like to meet up and talk through it, that would be nice so do get in touch. For now, I’m just going to post  some images, and a small section from the (in)conclusion. I didn’t conclude in the traditional way, for several reasons. Mostly because MA Design Futures isn’t traditionally academic (i.e. you can write however you want as long as you reference and make the criteria/word count) and also because this will never be finished; it’s about process right? Enjoy!

In framing a response(able) practice and life, one’s core values matter. Therefore I ask myself as a communicator, what do I believe in? In summary, I believe in human ability to make and change, the transformative power of art, the life-long process of learning, everyone’s right to find their voice whilst listening to others, everyday empathy and the application of love, care and passion into all situations that require and deserve these things. Using the language of these beliefs is important, and in a successful integration of creative practice and everyday life we need not use such separate languages. As Clay Shirky (author of Here Comes Everybody) writes, we don’t really speak about love when making sense of the public world, and now love is becoming a lot less private and a lot more concrete. (Shirky, 2008:141). Love is a key aspect of response(ability), as the Dalai Lama has commented when talking about genuine cooperation. His opinion further demonstrates that love, empathy and kindness increase our ability to respond;

“What is required is a kind heart and a sense of community, which I call universal responsibility” (Dalai Lama from an address ‘seeking the true meaning of peace’, San Jose, Costa Rica, June 1989. Cited in Hulme, 2009)

Eckheart Toile (Author of A New Earth) believes that when “faced with a radical crisis, when the old way of being in the world, of interacting with each other and with the realm of nature doesn’t work anymore” we must take an evolutionary leap (Toile, 2005:21). This may be a leap into more shared or democratic ways of making and communicating. John Chris Jones argues that if we are to succeed in a creative democracy, there would have to be a changed consciousness “in which neither god nor an nor devil is the object of belief”. He calls for a new belief in which self-creating nature is taken as reality, or “the sacred presence of everything, just as it is” (Jones, 1998). This evolutionary leap is a leap of faith. Not faith in God, but faith in ourselves and other people, acceptance of what we are and belief in what we could be. This requires belief in vision of the things we can make together, as part of the bigger picture. As communicators we have the task of illuminating a love of and a concern for life to inspire response(ability) towards the evolutionary process of living and creating. This is fundamental in the purpose of creating positive change through both creative practice and in everyday life, and in doing this, I see no justifiable reason why we should not believe in, love and live every single moment.

A Moment in the Evolution of Illustration as defined by Ivan Nascimento and Emily Wilkinson

Ivan and I have been getting along with this defining illustration thing, and having a blast doing some co-writing at the same time. Our latest is below, we’re quite pleased with it so far and would love to know what you all think. Enjoy, comment, criticise and feedback!

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We the authors have decided to write our own definition of illustration. Having both worked as illustrators we feel that traditional definitions of illustration do not represent current professional challenges and the extension of illustrator’s role in society. We are both passionate about the topic, therefore this is a subjective definition as we believe that the objectivity of most standard definitions do not convey illustration’s emotional capacity as a form of communication.

Also, illustration’s affinity with visual narratives and codes is lost from these more objective definitions. We aim to create an expansive, open, and discursive definition of this field which will change and evolve over time; only a dynamic concept of illustration will constantly reconnect and fine-tune it with future and unthinkable contexts in order to making them thinkable therefore possible (Wood, 2007:140). The authors believe that illustration is a powerful tool for change and exchange, and needs discourse to reach it’s full potential. Illustration sometimes has a narrow and nostalgic public image, and we wish to raise the status of this activity by situating illustration within the framework of a creative practice, whilst integrating the field with others in order to raise the status of illustration as an activity and an important part of communication. We wish to demonstrate that the illustrator can be part of connected networks of both creative practice and everyday life, rather than isolated artistic figures, and aid illustrators to assert their ability to contribute excellence (Mason, 2000:4). This can only be achieved by constantly evolving the study of what illustration is and what illustrators are, or in other words what John O’Reilly calls Illustrology (Varoom, 2006 p. 3), an ‘in-between’ zone where illustrators are free to document the zeitgeist, and where meanings can be stretched and impossible risks taken. As Marshall Arisman said back in 2002; “Illustration is not dead – in fact, it may just be giving birth to itself”. We agree.

Etymologically speaking, the word illustration evolved from the Latin lustrare, meaning to light or illuminate. As well as being part of the root definition, the metaphor of illumination can be seen as a principle for illustration and purposeful communications. What as communicators do we want to bring to light in the world? This relates to two other etymologic meanings; the act of making clear in the mind and educating by means of example. Illustration has the potential to take information further by interpreting and being interpretive, and to exchange meaning with, from and via different ways of knowing. Illustration has the power to evoke knowing through emotion, the feeling of which depends on it’s chosen language. As Mason comments, “Illustration – when it is allowed to be – may be as intelligent, individual, original, provocative and seductive as Fine Art” (Mason, 2000:59).

As human beings, we illustrate constantly in all forms of language. To illustrate is a frequently used component of speech or writing, meaning to make clear by example and improve understanding. We illustrate not just with pictures, but also with words, sayings, figures of speech, gestures, body language and actions to expand meaning beyond words. In this sense everybody is an illustrator.

What is an illustrator? An illustrator is a visual communicator who we have represented with the metaphor of a prism (see illustration below). A prism reflects and refracts light, or to polarize white light into a rainbow. However our prism is an unrealistic, or perhaps magical one which also has the ability to focus the rainbow into a beam of white light. The illustrator can convert from a rainbow (or complexity) to a focused ray of light (simplicity) or vice versa. They can add colour and vibrancy to that which is invisible, or reduce and refine the overly diverse.

This slightly fictional prism is a metaphor for the internal workings of the illustrator. It is container in which the following forms of communication take place: change, exchange, translation, interpretation and mediation. The focusing or expanding of ingoing or outgoing data takes place amongst communicational noise and darkness. The prism (illustrator) acts as a receiver or radar who by tuning into the different frequencies of life translates data, information, concepts, thoughts and (im)possibility based using metaphors, meanings, semiotics and semantics.

An illustrator may work in any media, but perhaps the most commonly known and used is drawing. There are many definitions of drawing, but perhaps the most simple would be to make a mark. The illustrator then asks what this mark is saying, and to whom. This making a mark might not be limited to pencil on paper, but can work across any media or form of making. Furthermore, illustrators should always embrace drawing as a way of knowing and be aware of that it is probably the most pure and immediate form of reflection-in-action (Schön, 1983 p. 68), in that sense it directly connects experience, understanding and change on a unique and powerful way which make it an structural element of the illustration process. As Milton Glaser has commented; “Drawing and illustrating force you to engage the world. Drawing is active” (Glaser, 2000:57). This engagement contributes greatly to the response-ability of the illustrator.

As a response-able practitioner, the illustrator has to position themselves amongst ethical dilemmas and make multiple decisions. Illustrators should always recognize and be aware of the contextual consequences and complexity of their practice, which put them invariably on a position of social response-ability. They are in the very privileged position of being able conveying ethical messages on an extremely novel and effective way, for example climate change or poverty. More than a visual translator, illustrators can serve as agent of change and exchange only by maintaining an authorial role (O’Reilly, 2006 p. 3). It is the illustrator’s choice which voice or voices to represent, and whether to visualize a single voice or a diversity of voices. The illustrator must also be aware that reality and fiction are interactive and interchangable, and must find their own stance on the interplay between truth and reality.

If communication illustrates then illustration must always communicate. Illustration is a visualization of communication, which not a one-way communication process but a constant dialogue between inner and outer states of being in the world. In re-defining the role of illustration within the ever changing “context of life” (Manzini, 2004), perhaps some things never change. The idea of illustrator as illuminator is a constant, doing what Vienne refers to shedding “a little light on the world we live in” (Vienne, 2000:7). This is a complex task, yet at the time beautifully simple.

References:

ARISMAN, MARSHALL and HELLER, STEVEN (eds) (2000). The education of an illustrator. Allworth PRess, NYC.

GLASER, MILTON  (2000). Interview with Milton Glaser by Marshall Arisman. Published in  ARISMAN, MARSHALL and HELLER, STEVEN (eds) (2000). The education of an illustrator. Allworth PRess, NYC

MANZINI, EZIO (2004), Scenarios of sustainable well-being, in Willis, A.M. (edited by) Design Philosophy Papers One, D/E/S Publications, Ravensbourg, 2004

MASON, ROBERT (2000). A Digital Dolly?: a subjective survey of British illustration in the 1990’s. Norwich University Press.

O’REILLY, JOHN. (2006) Illustrology. Varoom, the journal of Illustration and made images, No. 1, The Association of Illustrators, UK

SCHÖN, DONALD A. (1983) The reflective practitioner: how professionals think in action, Basic Books, NY

VIENNE, VERONIQUE (2000). Illustrate: Give them what they never knew they wanted. ublished in  ARISMAN, MARSHALL and HELLER, STEVEN (eds) (2000). The education of an illustrator. Allworth PRess, NYC

WOOD, JOHN (2007) Design for Micro-Utopias, Making the Unthinkable Possible. Gower Publishing ltd, UK.

on Not Knowing in creative practice and everyday life

Coming to the end of what’s been a pretty special year studying, I realised the other day that despite multiple life uncertainties and insecurities I am happier than ever. I’ve been lucky enough to have great employment experiences up to this point, but making the difficult and risky decision to study again was the best one I ever made. Having left what I thought I ‘should’ be doing in order to be successful, in work or otherwise, has ironically made me both more secure and freer within myself both professionally and personally.

This realisation comes at a time when I’m writing about acceptance of change and communication of life as a process that should, under optimum circumstances, allow us to grow as a species without harming stuff or each other. This acceptance involves a certain amount of not knowing, and letting go of prescribed outcomes. In my writing these thoughts link to the term sustainability. If we cannot recognise our own abilities to change, how can we respond to sustainability or indeed, anything else? This is where the problem of sustainability lies, it implies infinity and lack of change, whereas life changes constantly. I recently interviewed my friend Bethany for my thesis, who commented;

“If a business becomes sustainable, they are taking on the idea that they will have to make changes, and continue making changes forever in order to become sustainable. It’s not about sustaining in one way forever and ever, because you can’t.”

If we are to use the term sustainability, I’m suggesting it be communicated that we must be able to respond to changes on many levels in order to sustain something within changing contexts, or what Ezio Manzini calls “the context of life”. In other words, if something is worth sustaining, then we need to respond to changes within that thing without trying to control it, and giving it space to grow. If it isn’t worth sustaining then our energy is better used elsewhere, but then we enter into the arena of the unknown and seeing what might happen (uncomfortable for many).

Whilst Not Knowing is about not trying so hard and letting things happen, it’s not about lack of direction or responsibility, neither does it mean lack of caring or trust. Quite the opposite; it’s about letting go, facing fear of the unknown and embracing that, wherever it might lead. Being OK with not knowing is about acceptance, not constricting identity and letting things breathe. In yoga theory if you can’t breathe, then you can’t carry on the practice, as it is always the flow of breath that sustains.

Jonathan Chapman and Nick Gant in Designers, Visionaries and Other Stories talk about intuition in the design process:

“Planning ahead, with fixed ideas, becomes an obstacle…it’s more important to allow an intuitive process”

As someone who tends to act on gut feelings, I agree. However, responding to change well also means being in touch with your purpose in life, as I now think that knowing roughly you want and what you want to do in the world doesn’t necessarily mean knowing what will happen next. I’m thinking that’s where those pesky instincts come in, to give us a clue, y’know…the whole evolution thing and all. As creative practitioners we can’t respond based on rational judgement all the time, so often have to rely on instinct or feeling in order to evolve our practice, even though we might not know the outcome.

I’m also writing about inter-disciplinary creative practice as an interface for response-ability, as one of the main threads to the whole thing is the way we work and live, and how seeing ourselves as different people in those different contexts is harmful to collective well-being. Design Futures has been a personal journey to find out what I really care about and where my real passions lie professionally, and of course, those things are always personal. I want to communicate that it is possible to work and live in a way where the core of what you believe in expresses itself in who you are and everything you do.

I started this course as a Graphic Designer who wanted to write about illustration and drawing. Now I see that whilst those are still major interests, they represented much deeper concerns. About to emerge from Design Futures, I’m not quite sure what to call myself. It’s a mixture of (in no order of particular importance) the following: Illustrator, Designer, Writer, Facilitator, Languager and Storyteller with strong inclinations towards the visual arts, fiction, poetry, music, smiles and laughter.

That’s not all going to fit on a business card (or maybe it will, that could be nice). Whatever I call myself for now, I’m just fine with not knowing/defining and just seeing what happens. I hope you are too, because I think it might be a whole lot of fun.

Head&Space

Yesterday I went to see the Walking in My Mind exhibition at the Hayward Gallery. Ten artists have created environments based on how their minds work that you can walk through as an immersive experience. It’s great, really fun if you’re into psychology and perception. The exhibition also gives a different spin on what a gallery space is for and there’s a successful balance between lightheartedness and heavier conceptual material.

The man with the walkie-talkie wouldn’t let me take pictures in there, but a couple of the artists have outdoors elements to their installations. I really enjoyed this piece by Charles Avery:

It’s a kiosk entitled Eternity Chamber. I liked it because it looks like something out of a surrealist painting or a dark fairytale, but the concept was powerful also; the interior of the kiosk is a kind of hall of mirrors which represents the illusion of infinity, however the viewer is only allowed to see a glimpse of this through the padlocked door as the artist believes we should never be able to see eternity (because it would drive us mad).

This resonated with much of my current thinking about sustainability. There’s a tendency to  see sustainability as a kind of fixed point or utopic end goal that we will reach, which can never be true. As Bruce Sterling says in his book Shaping Things;  “Sustainability can never be an end goal, it can only ever be a process”. The view I’m leaning towards as a designer is communicating an acceptance of process, and visualising life as a changing, constantly evolving state that we can consciously or subconsciously alter the direction of to allow us to grow in positive, healthy ways.

The exhibition also prompted me to ask if I were to make an exhibition space of my mind, what would it look like? I’ve always visualised my mind as the spaces I live and work in, as their state usually reflects mine and vice versa.

I had visions of some kind of beautiful eco flat/studio space, decorated in bright colours with lots of artwork and plants, and some kind of exciting roof terrace with vegetables, and a cat, and a really good sound system. I thought the exhibition space could then reflect some sort of symbiotic balance between environmentally friendly living and creative practice by feeling like a kind of harmonious yet energetic sanctuary…

But this would be lies. A real reflection of my mind right now would have to be ordered chaos, because it’s all getting pretty scrappy this month. Working, writing a thesis and sleeping in a small room is kind of intense. I think the truthful exhibition space would somehow reflect the chaotic interaction between mindmaps, clothes, books and piles of paper. As part of Thesis Thoughts, here’s a peek into my mind right now, and part of the record of process:

As you see, it gets messy at times, bit like life really.
Changing head/space for me has always been a chicken-and-egg situation of creating internal space and changing external space. This is reflected in Walking in My Mind, for example Yayoi Kusama’s spots are something she’s always painted as a response to her hallucinations, and creating those external objects and spaces have helped her control this. That’s her outlet and space to breath.

I suppose whatever the state of our interiors, it’s good to open a window sometimes and take a breath of fresh air, to create the space and time needed to accommodate change.

Find your voice: foyle young poets

I just found this on Lemn Sissay’s blog. It’s a viral film for the Foyle Young Poets 2009 competition.

I love the simplicity of this, in both the message and the combination of voices and drawing to communicate the information. Very powerful!

Thesis thoughts #1: fear of falling

Image: Swansea mural taken by my sister this weekend

I’m adding a new category: thesis thoughts. Over the next month I’ll be writing my dissertation and will be publishing snippets as part of the thought process. This stuff will be really raw so as usual, it’s a bit of an experiment.

I’m not yet ready to define my title, but it’s pretty much about illustration, change and sustainability. I’m looking at ’sustainability’ and ‘responsibility’ not in terms of our ability to sustain, but how we sustain our ability to respond to the world, other people and ourselves. On that note, here is thought (or ramble) number one. I was thinking about fear of change at the time.

Fear of Falling

When facing something (like fear), one might take a cautious glance at that thing and turn away. Or they might look at it straight on, take a deep breath and jump right into it. Falling heart-first into fear and through it can be tough, painful and hard, but breaking through that pain barrier allows us to just experience the falling.

I go with the flow and fall into my fear
And I am falling,
Endlessly falling through time, sound
And light. Then comes
The realisation that I am not falling,
But flying.

Thrown in at the deep end

Image: Georgia Wiggs

Hello there, I’ve been a bit quiet recently. Over the last four weeks I’ve had a new job, and have also been revising my four essays written over the year studying on MA Design Futures. It’s been a challenging month in terms of pushing myself to a new level, learning a thing or two about large format illustration, and suddenly and unexpectedly applying my ideas from studying in real life. I had visions of spending this summer lying in the sun reading books, this seems not to be the case which is a good thing (although I’m hoping August will bring a little of that). It’s been getting a little crazy at times, but working at this intensity and writing college stuff as well allowed me to test out a few things and tentatively frame how I’d like to work as a communicator. I thought I’d share some thinking from over the year with you, I wish I’d blogged more about the course because it’s been incredible, I think going though my notes is going to inspire some more frequent action on here. The course is divided into four 5000 word essays and a thesis:

Essay one: Knowledge and Communication module
Illuminating ourselves: discussing illustration as emotional communication.

In this piece I examined how illustration functions as communication and how illustration functions differently in terms of emotional response to different kinds of graphic communication or photography. I asked if a visual object prompts and emotional response, could it also inspire an emotional sense of responsibility by enhancing our ability to respond. Drawing can be used to communicate complex ideas in a variety of situations, by communicating human emotion and presence. As Adrian Shaughnessy has commented; “The brain works much faster when stimulated by emotion. By working emotionally, illustration has the ability to communicate big ideas and new thoughts in a direct and powerful way”. Jonathan Chapman writes about ‘emotionally durable design’ , and whilst referring mostly to product design, his principles also resonate with the communications industry. If waste is “a result of failed relationships and poor design” in the physical world, how does this relate to visual communications designed without purposeful intent (or with harmful or no intent)? In terms of waste in this context, not only physical waste is produced (mostly paper), but equal amounts of mental waste. As communicators we can ask ourselves the following; How toxic is this waste, and what can communicators offer as an antidote?

Essay two: Ethics and the Environment module
ExtraOrdinary: creating change through everyday design practice

This one was about everyday design practice, and explored links between design practice and therapy. The word practice was appealing as opposed to the word profession or job because it seems like something more integrated with life and living.  A practice can generally be defined as doing something or things done over a period of time to gain skill. In a more spiritual sense (for example in yoga practice) a practice is a part of everyday life where someone is at one with their real self and gains the headspace and perspective they need. Examining and reading about the everyday has ended up being one of the major components of my research. Western thought tends to undervalue the everyday and the mundane, forgetting that the rituals of daily life are full of emotion, empathy, reflection and love. Kenya Hara defines design as “the occupation of straining our eyes and ears to discover new questions from the midst of everyday life”, or put more simply; listening, or waking up to smell the coffee. This research also made me think differently about sustainability, in that we look to fix things far away from us, without noticing the problems of potential standing right in front of us. The word environment stems from environ; meaning to surround or protect (people, places or things); a fresh way of looking at the spaces we design and practice in.

Essay three: Society and the Individual module
The Space Between Waking and Dreaming: a fictional exploration into the dysfunction between urban public space design and communications in those spaces

Looking closer at everyday life made me question how a designer might generation fiction and tell stories as solutions to everyday issues. As Kenya Hara puts it; “Verbalising design is another act of design”. In this fictional essay I looked at the dysfunction between communications design and public space, I attempted making a visual narrative as clear as the written one. It was a helpful experiment which sparked a new interest in graphic novels and comics. In terms of visual wayfinding, I started to see 2D design spaces (such as a book) as a place you need to navigate around as you would your everyday environments and am questioning the emotional effects of that navigation system right now.

Essay four: Technology and Change module
Connecting with energy: how might we communicate the concept of energy more meaningfully?

In the last essay, I wrote more about language as design. Looking at the way we communicate energy, I looked at the linguistic bridge (visually and verbally) between energy we consume, and energy we produce in the body. This essay focused on the concept of languaging, a field of academic study and a verb in some languages meaning the process and evolution of language. Metadesign principles involve languaging; “Language informs cultural values, and these inform aesthetic norms and how we experience the world”. Basically the piece was about making communication (through languaging) a more sense-driven experience to reconnect us with the energy we consume in order to change the way we think about it. As Roland Barthes wrote, we should be challenging the symbolic itself; “it is no longer the myths which need to be unmasked…it is the sign itself which must be shaken”.

Lots to think about. At the moment I’m tidying them up to hand in next week, and thinking about how they knit together in context of my thesis. More broadly, how will I apply these ideas to a creative practice? Whilst wanting to work illustratively, I’m pretty determined not to be tied to a particular job role or title. I’m thinking that really we should be taking all disciplines back to the basics of making and creating, and free ourselves up from that point. How does an interdisciplinary designer/communicator create an identity, or, do they just get on with it and not think too much about it? Probably this is the case, and less attachment to identity is generally a good thing. However, I’m going to have a shot at defining what illustration means to me (comments and thoughts gratefully received) as I think to some extent you do have to try and critically examine what you do as a practitioner.

Illustration: the beginnings of a re-definition

The dictionary definition of illustration, i.e. To ‘illustrate’ is to make clear or explain by example (The Oxford Concise Dictionary, 1934). The word comes from the latin lustrare which means to light up (also the root of the word illuminate). This definition provides a useful starting point for defining illustration as an activity, as illustration (or indeed any successful communication) should shine a light on that which was previously in the shadows. The beautiful metaphor of illumination is also a good principle for purposeful communications; what do we want to bring to light in the world? Looking at this meaning in the context of communications, illustration can be used to communicate problems, relationships and solutions in a human, emotionally intelligent and visual way that encourages awareness whilst adding a lightness of touch to ‘serious’ information. Illustration communicates, and communication illustrates just as illustrators design, and designers illustrates. Writing illustrates and is illustrated, and images are written from.

As communication, illustration provides a human touch, and a sense of craft or things being made. Emotionally this is important, and in an increasingly digital world where we must develop healthy relationships with technology I believe we need to be reminded of our humanity and the fact that we are alive. This for me is a key component of sustainability and one of the things I personally want to sustain, protect and promote. Today’s digital print techniques and online media mean that now, we can produce mass quantities of the same human touch so image-making has the potential to take giant leaps forward as a method of communication. Although I’m an advocate of drawing, I’m interested in how photographs and other media can look ‘made’  such as photographs that look like paintings (like Georgia’s image above).

Drawing is about to hit the mainstream big time, this is becoming apparent with fields and professions like graphic facilitation, mapping, visualisation and information illustration developing. This has huge implications for the way we communicate. The inuit people of Nunavat (a region of northern Canada) do not have a direct word for Art. The closest is Sananguatavut, meaning to move from the real to the unreal through making, or producing a likeness. Reality is interchangable with fiction, and through imagining and dreaming we envision the future, which  through becoming unreal can then become reality.

Illustration is often perceived as something confined to books, if I say I’m an illustrator the most frequent response I get is “so you do children’s books then?”. The public profile of illustration is kind of a bit ‘fluffy’ really (hate use of ‘fluffy’ in modern language by the way, working on it). Not that I’m knocking childhood nostalgia – it’s a powerful thing. I’m going to work on this re-defining illustration thing with Ivan. His much more concise version is as follows:

Illustrators translate complex concepts and abstract thoughts based on their everyday experiences, they can function as semiotic radars, but on the whole having control of the metaphorical structure of the visual meaning have the potential of putting illustration in the very privileged prospect of conveying ethical messages on a extremely novel and effective way. (Ivan Nascimento, 2009)

Together I think we’ll come up with something good.

Whatever illustration is, I think it’s a powerful tool for change. What do you think?

Doodles & Drinking

The lovely Bonnie and I went to the Doodle Bar in Battersea last Friday. Situated in the bottom of a warehouse, the bar and all it’s contents are whitewashed, and marker pens are in abundance so you can scribble, draw, sketch and write over everything (including the staff, lots of fun). The Doodle Bar aims to “to create a vision of the imagined city – a collage of doodler’s hopes and fears” by acting as a kind of canvas. They also play great music and host life drawing amongst other classes. I loved the non-slickness of the space, and hopefully they’ll help set a trend for other fun creative social spaces in South London. Have a peek at some pictures here of the harmonious blend of doodling and drinking:

Illustrated Brussels: City as Canvas

I’m feeling inspired after a trip to Brussels this weekend, where I discovered that illustration is really big. This is reflected in the incredible murals and street paintings found all over the city that lift the built environment and introduce lightheartedness and colour into everyday urban scenes. A few examples below:

Loving these colours:

And this cheeky little…wombat?

A sticking-out side of a building becomes a dramatic 1940s-film-esque scene.

Who wouldn’t want a member of the Brady Bunch skipping along with a dog on the side of their house?

Amazing, so much fun.

Spots@Southbank

Spotty trees! These are by artist Yayoi Kusama as part of the Walking in My Mind exhibition. Love these as design concepts/public interventions.

More designing in the present…

Some great posters for the Southbank Centre that I saw yesterday…

Designing in the present

There was an article yesterday in the Guardian about how John Berger has donated all his manuscripts and notes to the British Library, as long as they go and help him out on his farm. I’ve only read Ways of Seeing (the one book on our BA reading list that anyone read) and revisited it recently. Back in the 60’s Berger was definitely ahead of his time when writing about communications and their effects on us. In Ways of Seeing he notes; “In no other form of society in history has there been such a concentration of images, such a density of visual messages”. This has continued to increase since then, but maybe now it’s reached it’s peak? Berger mentions how “the publicity image belongs to the moment” but never speaks of the present, usually referring to the past and speaking of the future. I think this is now changing, and we’re seeing a big shift to living in the present and making sense of where we are, for example those Orange “I am” ads which I thought represented this significant change in advertising:

Does anyone have more examples of present-tense communications that invite the user to look at the present moment? I remember reading a great quote a few months ago which I stupidly didn’t write down (so if you recognise it, let me know) which went something like:

“Good design is present in the moment, whilst simultaneously referencing the past and inviting the future” (it’s SO good, why didn’t I write it down?)

Sketchbook Snippet #2

I was sketching people in Brockwell park the other day. Parks in the summer are incredible places for drawing because of the range of activity and interaction that takes place. I started off sketching individuals and pairs of people sitting, sleeping and reading:

After sketching a few people on their own, and then couples I realised how the complexity of a drawing builds up with the more people involved in it. Each additional person adds a whole new dimension of interaction and communication to what the maker needs to represent. Following these thoughts I tried sketching a big group of people who were having a great time with picnics and parasols:

I found this pretty difficult. You have to be engaged in a different way when drawing groups because of all those levels going on, and you have to invent more things because people move around more. It’s an exercise in social anthropology and observation as much as making a drawing (which drawing should be anyway I guess). Drawing individuals or life drawing is more contemplative for me and has a more direct relationship to the subject, when there are multiple subjects I feel more active, like my brain is working in a different way.

A few weeks ago, Laura Sorvala (who needs to start a blog so I can start linking to her, and because she’s a great writer) and I did some sketching in Hyde Park. A group of kids came up to us and started asking us about drawing, their curiosity was beautiful. They really were excited by the idea of drawing in public and wanted us to draw them:

We then gave them the drawings, which resulted in a bunch of happy kids and giggling all round. If you can get and give a lot from that very personal interaction of drawing people, how can image-makers apply this on a collective scale? Events like The Big Draw do this really well. I think the fact that there were two of us drawing made the collective thing easier and loads of fun. What could you do with a group of image-makers working together, and how can people drawing in public spaces create positive interventions?

Beyond the bubble: thoughts abstracted from a relatively minor experience

Today the bus I was travelling on nearly hit someone. Fortunately nobody was hurt, but the bus driver had to emergency brake pretty hard and the whole bus and passengers were flung forward to the extent that some people hit their arms, heads or other people. At the time I was immersed in a book and mentally elsewhere, as was everyone on the upper deck of the bus as they read, listened to music or stared into space. The jolt was so sudden it woke us all up from our bubbles (some people screamed) and it wasn’t obvious for a few minutes that nothing too serious had happened.

This incident got me thinking again about how on public transport when you can’t see the driver you lose awareness of the fact that a human being is transporting you, rather than the vehicle. Personally I quite enjoy spacing out on the bus as it gives me time to think and process things, but today I questioned this enjoyment. How can transportation provide mobility and a space to be, and at the same time promote awareness of what is happening in the process of transportation (and who is controlling it)?

In terms of communication, I started wondering why it takes a jolt or a shock to bring this awareness back, and to get people talking to each other. Inter-passenger communication started immediately after the driver hit the brakes;

“what happened”, “did he hit someone?”, “are you alright?”

People then have to collectively work out what to do, i.e. establish no-one is hurt, and to get off the bus because the driver is shaken and the bus isn’t going anywhere.

As a newbie road cyclist (and I mean very new) I am also thinking about how cycling is a totally different experience, in the way you have to constantly engage with and navigate through your environment.

I don’t really have a point here, except returning to the recurrent theme of why we are so engaged with the technological aspects of everyday life, but perhaps not so much with the environments and people immediately around us. I think they should be at least equal, if not more heavily weighted towards the latter. As designers of our collective and individual realities, this is an important balance. I may have quoted Norman Potter before, and I am reminded of how in What is a Designer he writes that designers need to be “able to understand how it is that conversation becomes possible between people and things”. Maybe this is response-ability, an awareness and understanding of our ability to respond, and how things can switch us off or turn us on.

On a lighter note, I saw this from the bus window the other day by Camberwell College of Art, where some lovely arty student types have clambered on top of the bus stop have painted “A kind word is free”. It made me smile, and talk to someone at the next stop. As usual, I think artists are foreseeing something new; a different kind of communication that encourages…communication!

Making our Mark

For some time now I’ve been looking at the role that drawing and handwriting play in the built environment. Accidental marks, building symbols and graffiti are a small part of the many levels of visual information that we pass by everyday. As an illustrator and designer, I am questioning what effect this information has on people in environments, and what we as designers might read and learn from observing these marks. As I collect examples, I’m noticing that there are different levels of information. These are three I’ve identified so far:

Level 1: Accidental mark-making (such as paint spills, marks from dragging objects). Photo taken in Coldharbour lane last week.

Level 2. Intentional mark-making as part of a particular system (traffic markings or building marks). Photo also taken in Coldharbour lane last week

Level 3. Intentional mark-making as an identity device (graffiti, naming, numbering). Photo taken in Paris last year.

All three (and I’m sure there are more) are different languages and all three are systemic. Level 1 is a language of things being moved about the wider system. Level 2 is a language of way-finding and identification in a system of building and making. Level 3 is a language of the individual as a system of individuals (even though it attempts to be anti-system). I’m interested in carrying on this research to see how many more levels there might be, how the different languages work together as part of a system, and how that system evolves (or could evolve).

Level 3 might be the most obvious and intentional expression of identity, but all three are symbolic of human identity and the need to ‘make our mark’ on our environment. As Level 1 demonstrates, this happens even when we don’t intend it. Studying the way people make marks in the world around them could tell us a lot about human behaviour and relationships with environments. Everything we do has an effect on the environment, especially the everyday things. I think an awareness of the marks we are making and the effects they could have in the world is a basic component of relating and responding to what we currently call sustainability.

“Perceiving is an achievement of the individual, not an appearance in the theatre of his consciousness. It is a keeping-in-touch with the world, an experiencing of things rather than a having of experiences. It involves awareness-of instead of just awareness”

- J. Gibson (1986). The Ecological Approach to Visual Perception.

Sketchbook Snippet #1

I was sketching this guy the other day at the Southbank Centre. Being in transition from graphic design to more illustration-based work, I seem to be still very concerned with visual identity. I only noticed looking back at the drawing after a few days how prominently I’d chosen to draw the Southbank Centre branding on the window behind the man. This has interesting parallels with thoughts I’m having about visuals identity as a subconscious way finding device. I really like to sketch people who are deep in thought. When someone is lost in their own thoughts and imagination, people’s faces and body language express so much emotion.

This reminds me of a talk at LSE I went to in February about designing spaces for thinking. The discussion questioned whether we need spaces designed specifically for thinking and reflection as the world becomes increasingly digital and virtual. Anthony Gormley spoke, discussing the role of the human body as a place of memory and transformation in his work. Also Richard Sennet, author of The Craftsman (an amazing book) spoke about the history of this subject, from thinking in reading rooms and libraries to cafés and open public space. What I believe I’m trying to say through writing and sketching this subject is that everyday life is rich in deep reflection if you look for it, but it has a tension in cities with branding and identity (sometimes good, sometimes not).

Personally I really enjoy places like the Southbank Centre and think it’s a great space (with good coffee), sitting in places like this and drawing is an insightful way to observe our relationship with spaces. I think possibly in cities the only un-branded spaces to reflect in are parks. This leads me to question; can branding and graphic design in public space serve the same emotional function as natural environments do in a park? It’s a different experience entirely (and I’m in the park camp myself), but as a matter of identity and backdrops for contemplation do they serve similar functions?

Introducing: Sketchbook Snippets

I’m thinking about blogging at the moment. My apparent lack of commitment to writing this blog on a regular basis has made me question why I’m actually doing it. I think my writing is interesting, at least interesting enough to have at least three regular readers that I know of (thanks guys, and thanks mum…) but I’m thinking if I’m not going to write regularly then I should re-orient this blog into more of a practice-based commentary. Whilst continuing to write about the things I want to say something about, I’m going to start posting sketches and drawings as an experiment into reporting and commentary. I’ve been looking at a creative writing technique where you write from an image, and think writing from a drawing could throw up some good material. You might disagree and think this is dull! As always, please comment?

Quiet Riot!

A friend forwarded me a link today to the quiet riot, a project showcasing quiet design by Martin Hoenle. It shows design that is ‘quiet’ or in other words, doesn’t compete for energy, resources or novelty. It struck a chord with me because of a previous post where I wrote about not having to shout to be heard. I like this statement from quiet riot:

Sustainable design
Design has to be quiet, he said.
It has to stop shouting.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about competitiveness in the world, and how it’s not what we need. What has bothered me about the commercial design world is that everyone seems to shout as loud as they can instead of listening. I recently read Anthony Minghella’s play Cigarettes and Chocolate, where the central character Gemma decides to give up speaking. The play then evolves to portray the reactions of her friends and family, and how they treat her differently. She breaks her silence at the end of the play with a monologue, reflecting on the time she has been quiet. Gemma describes silence as a way “to stop people in their tracks and make them think” and laments about how we say “so much to say nothing”. This part is particularly powerful:

“Don’t speak for a day and then start looking. The senses are sharp. Look at the world about it’s business. The snarl. The roar. Skin stretched over the teeth. The madness.”

Yes, Minghella was a genius (RIP Anthony), but rather bleak at times. That’s not what I’m trying to do, there’s a lot to be said for noise too, and stuff that grabs you straight away. I only suggest that communications in general might carry more thought and meaning. That’s why I love the idea of quiet design. I repeat (softly), you don’t have to shout to be heard!

Police state anyone?

I’ve been seeing this poster campaign all over South London for the past week or two, which I think is an anti-terror thing, or maybe it’s just general crime?

Firstly, I’d like to point out that I don’t have a problem with the police (most of them are decent people). This post is about language and communication, not general police bashing. This campaign makes me very uneasy, aside from being a blatant rip-off of Keep Calm and Carry On which I wrote about in an old Crossed Wires post, there’s something about the language that bothers me. Keep Calm and Carry on was meant to reassure people and give them hope in the war, whereas this just makes you feel kind of nervous and watched (even when you have nothing to hide). Here’s another post on this from John Coulthart. I very much agree with his view that “To see a forgotten design experience a swelling of grassroots popularity then be co-opted by the State itself is as depressing as it would have been had Richard Nixon used psychedelic posters to campaign for his re-election.”

I suppose that you could look at them in a more positive light, as this kind of police presence (minus the police themselves) could gently persuade someone not to nick off with that woman’s bag at the bustop, or perhaps to go and sell crack somewhere a little more secluded. Honestly speaking I have no idea whether this would prevent someone from committing a crime or not, please contribute your views on this.

Taking a closer look at the wording of the individual posters, the words “anything you say may be taken down and used as evidence” makes one consider exactly what you might be saying at said point in South London and affects what might be a natural flow of conversation. Perhaps this is blind optimism, but I think a campaign encouraging people to be friendly and chat to strangers just MIGHT do something to improve the wellbeing of that area, hence preventing crime and anti-social behaviour. The next poster “We’d like to give you a good talking to” really gets my back up. It’s just another example of those in authority talking at rather than to the public, and with this poster they’re displaying that attitiude literally and visually. This clumsy (might I add macho) use of language resonates with a Guardian article I read on Saturday about the fears that police tactics used at today’s protest will lead to violence. The article describes how the organisers of Climate Camp have been unsuccessful in trying to discuss the event with the police:

“We’ve been constantly frustrated by our attempts to talk to the police about the 1st of April,” said Climate Camp’s Liz Shaw. “They don’t return our letters, they say that they’ll call us back, and they prevent us from attending public meetings they are speaking at. Surely they would want to enter into some sort of dialogue with us in advance of the event.”

Lastly, the third poster “You have the right not to remain silent” is quite frankly…a lie (maybe they couldn’t think of a third slogan). The right to remain silent is one of the few rights you do have if arrested. I know it’s a play on words, but if someone doesn’t realise or understand this, they might be confused by their rights, which is misleading and I believe unfair.

Just one more point; the campaign does come across as overly British and right wing in what is meant to be one of the most culturally and politically diverse cities in the world. Does anyone else get this vibe or is it just me?

I understand what the police are trying to do, I really do. But I don’t think that rip-off advertising techniques and bizarre, badly thought out language are the way to do it. I suggest that if the police are really interested in communicating with the public through advertising then they might take some ideas from positive psychology and maybe talk to some language experts who know how to talk with people, rather than giving them a good telling off. I would like to end on a hopeful note, and believe that somewhere in the police world, there must be a few (or a lot of) individuals who are genuinely interested in positive communication with the public. I hope they’re listening.

Nice narrative

I like this Cooperative ad a lot. It’s a little cheesy (although everyone loves a bit of Bob) but the use of narrative is good and the whole thing is open, honest and straightforward. Also the ad isn’t actually asking the viewer to do anything specific, and just says “hey, we’re here, we’re quite groovy and do some good stuff”. What do you think?

Towards tactile technologies

On Tuesday we had Rose Sinclair from the Goldsmiths textiles department in to talk to us about tecno textiles; the way technology and textiles are evolving together to combine electronics with fabrics. You can do all kinds of great stuff with conductive thread to embed circuits in items made with textiles. Rose showed us a few items including an MP3 controller sewn into a jacket (above) and this brillian fabric keyboard:

As a bit of a technophobe, I found this hugely exciting. If technology was more integrated with our lives and the objects that we like, it doesn’t have to be intrusive. My issues with technology (particularly work-related technology) is that it tends to dominates rooms and people. I am aware that this it a mass generalisation, but look at a typical workplace and see how it revolves around the machines within rather than the people in it. Wearable items like the jacket with the MP3 controls sewn in have positive security implications, in that your technology is less visible. If technology is less visible, it stops it’s use from becoming a display of wealth and possessions.

On the flip side the sustainability of some of these materials are questionable, although I’m sure in time this will evolve. I’m sure it’s no worse that plastic, and I enjoy the idea of a more tactile world that increases our awareness of objects, and environments. I want one!