When asked to select designers and studios whose work most closely matches my own from the first semester of level two of my Graphic Arts degree, and interesting internal dialogue developed regarding "style".
"Style" can be loosely defined as a manner of doing something, or a distinctive appearance. In visual communication it is pinned to a particular designer or artist and the correlation of visual elements from one piece of work to the next (e.g. David Carson's style is usually known as "grunge") but style also extends to everything outside the frame: approach, method, medium, format, practice, attitude.
First let me introduce you to the only peice of uni work I have done this semester that is worth discussing at length. It is a micronovella entitled "Joanna". The initial breif was to produce a 24-page book that moved from silence, to extreme volume, then back to silence again using type only.
The idea for this book was based upon the notion of authorship being inextricably linked with designership. Usually a designer is given the abstract intellectual content of a book (the manuscript) and he is asked to present the work in a way that vitalises the expression in a much more immediate, emotional manner.
I had been itching to write and design something simulataneously (
wresign?) for a long time and I decided to indulge myself.
As the concept of
wresignation suggests, the "story" would be influenced by the design, as well as the traditional vice versa.
The starting point for the project was an idealised concept: "the perfect novel"; a novel that had been designed without any economic restrictions and purely for aiding the memetic fortitude of the story (including readability, legibility, etc). From this singularity every other concept in the book would germinate.
I used a zoom in / zoom out method of micro – macrotypography to select point size, leading, tracking, etc. The typeface I chose was Joanna, by Eric Gill and since I was setting the story, which at this point did not exist, in Joanna's typographical voice (what kind of ridiculous author would choose the voice of his narrator before he has written their story!?) I had no choice but to create a protagonist named Joanna.
The rest of the book cascaded into place. Joanna's character was fleshed out by looking at her father's life and extrapolating her attitudes and afflictions (although not in any way meant to be an impression of the real Joanna). This is an example of how the design (i.e. the typeface) informed the story. On the traditional flipside, the story also informed the design in many ways. For example, the time came when I had to think about a cover or dust-jacket for Joanna. The story itself had become a dystopian vision of the near-future, influenced by Gill's own deep-seated revulsion towards modernity and industrial Britain. I tried to put a message of my own into the book, one which is directly related to graphic design. I tried to express my own dislike of "attention-seeking" design, and as a result the dust-jacket was never designed. "Never judge a book by it's cover" is a maxim that I try to live by as closely as possible, and in denying this book of any superficial material invites people into my own headspace through a process of intellectual conversation, rather than the unfortunate but unavoidable "first impression" method.
When trying to answer the initial question of this post, I first tried to figure out what "style" my work was in. This would hopefully point towards a few designers I already knew that I could write about.
I guess the "style" of Joanna is one where I have not restricted myself to the boundaries of graphic design. Even though I know that my main aim at university is to become a successful visual communicator, I am also interested in other forms of communication and I don't see why these external interests can't be allowed to colour my work.
Muggeridge Studio
The first designer who comes to mind when I try to match my style is Fraser Muggeridge. In an article in Grafik 159 he describes his own work as "nearly boring", and I can see that in my own work. It is intrinsically boring because it does not aim to be universally interesting. Boring is an opinion and obviously I find my work very engaging. Muggeridge's practice is based around esoteric, print-based work for specialised clients, usually from the art industry. Another quote from the article:
I try to be invisible as a designer. I try not to have a style.
On Muggeridge's own admission this is nonsense. Even a lack of style is a style in itself. What he means is that the final products don't have any superficial visual correlations from project to project. Added flourishes that only exist to flatter the designers ego, there are none, as both Muggeridge and I prefer to stick to more conservative modernist values that serve the purpose of the communication. One of Muggeridge's quotes that ring true with me is that "not every project has to be new and cutting edge". This is a reaction to the perception that in a post-Carson world, designers will compromise the effectiveness and humanism of design and sell their souls to neon hues, counterless type, paint splats and the endless yawn of blogging.
In a bizarre twist, what feels "fresh" to me is often particularly stale, only because freshness is so ubiquitous.
The second "person whose work is like mine" is Phil Baines, whose work appears at length in Eye 69. According to Eye "he has often noted that his influences came from written rather than visual sources" and "his work can appear eccentric until engaged with or read".
Baines at MyFontsPublic LetteringHaving already written 962 words and drunk more beer than recommended, I will keep the remainder of this post brief.
Without sounding too arrogant I think it's also fair to compare Joanna with the work of William Burroughs. It's certainly fair to say that as an experiment it was heavily influenced not necessarily by Burroughs' subjects or even his cut-up methods but by his willingness to experiment with a popular medium. Is Burroughs a graphic designer? No, but his writing has been likened to "verbal collage". I admire the way his work invites his readers into something which (if they are not already well-versed in his work) can completely alter one's perceptions and opens up new avenues of discussion. This is a kind of freshness that doesn't make me feel sick.
The fourth headless designer of the apocalypse that I would liken my work to is Jonathon Ellery. He owns and runs Browns studio in London and he does it so well that he has been able to diversify his own practice away from traditional design and into the art world. Ellery states the following in a recent interview with Paul Davis:
It's a love affair too. With books, with creativity, with all this. And good not to have to stick with one medium: graphic, photographic, sound, movement, lighting, Portland stone, brass. I'm enjoying it so much.
Ellery is an aspirational figure for me because he represents a place that I would like to be, and proves that it can be done.
His experimental book
In and Out can be compared structurally with Joanna. Both books move on a journey from cover to centrefold to cover.
