Defining Graphic Design |

On Design as Social Protest |

Style & Purpose |

Koloman Moser's Poster for the Thirteenth Vienna Seccession Exhibition |

The Influence of the Far East on Gisbert Combaz's Poster for La Libre Esthetique, 1898 |

Assessment Criteria for Design: Outlined & Applied to James Victore's Racism and the Death Penalty Poster |

Reflection on Studio Exercise |

For the Good and Betterment of Humankind |

Defining Graphic Design |

At least one corollary is certain to exist between art and graphic design: there exist a myriad of definitions for both. Although the term ‘'graphic design' is relatively new, its meaning has already been composed, countered, and challenged in the eighty-four years since William Addison Dwiggins coined it. This is not surprising, for graphic designs, like any human creations, are constantly evolving in both forms and functions. Given that graphic design has become a profession of its own, albeit a varied one, I have developed a two-fold definition of it: 1) graphic design as artifact and 2) graphic design as process.

I maintain that a graphic design artifact is a form whose primary function is to communicate visually. A poster fits within this definition; a car, though it also displays words of type, does not fit into this definition, for visual communication is a function secondary to transportation. In order to be effective, graphic design often involves both type and image; however, I do not hold this duality of elements to be essential to its function. For example, it can be argued that Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel was, and is, an effective form of visual communication even though it contains no words.

It has been suggested that visual communication is a human need. According to Philip B. Meggs, a graphic design historian, humans need “"to give visual form to ideas and concepts, to store knowledge in graphic form, and to bring order and clarity to information."” [1] This explains the existence of ancient visual communication, such as Sumerian pictographic tablets, millennia before the term ‘'graphic design' was coined.

I do not presume that all graphic design artifacts have been created through a design process, and so I find the need to distinguish my two-fold definition by terminology, removing ‘'design' from artifacts: 1) graphics: artifacts of visual communication and 2) graphic design: the process of creating forms of visual communication. The vulnerability of this distinction by design process is that it could be interpreted as a qualitative judgment. Who am I to assume that a flyer that does not adhere to any formal principles such as contrast, repetition, alignment, or proximity was not created through a design process? Admittedly, a design process can yield poor graphics. However, I maintain that there is utility in defining graphic design as process; it acknowledges graphic design as a profession and a service, and it recognizes the development of conceptual bases that are so often the underpinnings of successful visual communications. Interestingly, the American Institute of Graphic Arts (AIGA) is quoted with this affirming definition:

"Graphic design is a creative process that combines art and technology to communicate ideas." [2]

However, the same organization now purports this definition:

"Graphic design is the combination of shapes, colors, typefaces, images and words that cause you to react or feel something." [3]

This definition gives weight to two aspects of graphic design: the synthesis of formal elements and the human response to them.

Communication, by its very nature, must be received; so receipt by a viewer, user, or audience is implicit in the definition of graphic design, tethering the functions of artifacts to other people beyond those creating them. According to Steven Heller, “"understanding the object in context removes graphic design from a purely formal arena and moves it to a cultural and political one."” Building on this assertion, he identifies eight roles that graphic design objects play in culture and commerce:

persuasion: “design in the service of control and influence”
mass media: “design as popular communication”
language: “design as different idioms and vocabularies”
identity: “design as signature”
information: “design as guidepost and pathway”
iconography: “design as symbol”
style: “design as aesthetics and fashion”
commerce: “design as marketing tool” [4]

This breadth of communicative function is a result of the breadth of visual communication needs in society.

In recent centuries, the exchange has expanded:

commissioner/client --> designer --> viewer/user/audience

This is now an inherent part of the graphic design process and distinguishes it from much fine art:

"Graphic design is created in response to the visual communication needs of a client, who has a specific message to convey to an audience. Clients with graphic communication needs come from every aspect of society, from cultural to commercial; consequently, graphic design content is exceptionally inclusive." [5]

This all-encompassing function has enabled graphic designs to become not only expressive visual communications but also cultural records in terms of content, style, and technology.

"Graphic designers strike their own delicate balance between their personal creative needs and the public communications demands of their constituencies." [6]

It has even been suggested that “"graphic design can be defined as critical masses of form and style that shift according to the dictates of the marketplace."” [7] Needless to say, the work of graphic designers is inextricably linked to the larger workings of society.

The capacity of graphic designs to become cultural records is heightened by the forms' dependence on, and consequent capitalization upon, technologies. “"The evolution of graphic design is closely bound to the evolution of illustration, photography, and printing technology."” [8] It seems that evolution of technology, and therefore evolution of form, is a constant in graphic design. Visual communication knows no limits besides those of the tools of production.

[1] Meggs, Philip B. A History of Graphic Design. Third Edition. New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 1998. (xiii)
[A comprehensive and inclusive chronological history that is outlined with both text and images.]

[2] Ocepek, Louis D. Graphic Design: Vision, Process, Product. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2003.
[Examples organized to illustrate various aspects: content; parameters and problem solving; the design process; point of view and attitude; letters and words; images; integration of word and image; arrangement and organization; line; shape; value and texture; color; pattern and rhythm; emphasis, exaggeration, and contrast; decoration; and graphic production.]

[3] http://whatintheworld.aiga.org
[AIGA’s easy-to-read explanations about graphic design.]

[4] Heller, Steven. Design Literacy: Understanding Graphic Design. Second Edition. New York: Allworth Press, 2004. (xii)
[Collection of essays organized thematically according to roles that objects have played in culture and commerce.]

[5] Ocepek. (1)

[6] Schmidt, Michael, et al. Graphic design vs. style, globalism, criticism, science, authenticity, and humanism. Emigre No. 67. Berkeley: Émigré / New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 2004.
[Collection of narrative, theoretical, and intellectual essays commenting on current issues in graphic design.]

[7] Heller. (xi)

[8] Meggs. (xi)

On Design as Social Protest |

Seeing the anonymous “Peace is Patriotic poster that came out of the Berkeley studios during the Vietnam War era confirmed my notion that graphic artifacts are not solely produced by professional graphic designers. The need to protest and/or to comment can drive any activist-minded individual to communicate visually. In the United States, this response to political and military actions reached a pique during the 1960s, but it still exists today. The urgency of the roughly screenprinted letters of the “Peace is Patriotic”poster is echoed by the stop sign at my corner on which someone has scrawled 'WAR' below the printed word. While this graffiti is only viewed locally, it is no less a cultural record of an objection to the events of our time, a conscience crying to be heard.

Given the potency of visual communication as social protest, we must consider not only how citizen-activists resort to this means but also how professional graphic designers use this power. What do we who have honed our craft do in response to current events? Some embark single-handedly on campaigns of personal importance; James Victore is a noteworthy example, for he designed, printed, funded, and hung haunting and satirical posters, “Columbus: 1492-1992”to counter quincentennial celebrations of Columbus' "discovery" of America. [1] Others take on projects that they deem important; for example, Tibor Kalman left his own firm to design Benetton's magazine, Colors. [2] Some rally colleagues for larger projects; Spheres magazine's “Wish You Were Here”campaign of postcards intended to raise George W. Bush's awareness of issues is a prime example. [3]

However, according to Anne Bush, many designers limit their social responsibility to acts of benevolence and good will. [4] This may take the form of occasional pro bono work for nonprofit organizations. While no one would question the merit of such side work, is it enough? I hazard that it is not. We who have the tools for the effective mass dissemination of information have an obligation to do so for conscientious causes. John Cranmer and Yolanda Zappaterra suggest that I am not alone in this belief:

"Designers are seeking to integrate values back into their working practices and a revolution is underway. Design shapes people's thoughts and desires, their lives even. It's so powerful and so ubiquitous that design graduates should be made to pledge to use their new-found communicative powers for the good and betterment of mankind... If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem!" [5]

Of which problem and which solution are we speaking?

Not surprisingly, designers are defining social responsibility in multiple ways. Milton Glaser, who equates good design with good citizenship, has gone so far as to outline twelve forbidden acts for designers. In 2000, a group of designers including Stefan Sagmeister reissued First Things First, Ken Garland's 1964 manifesto, citing the need to shift priorities to useful, lasting, and democratic forms of communication because “"unprecedented environmental, social marketing, and cultural crises demand our attention."” [6] Clement Mok advises that we apply our skills to solving essential problems: those valuable from economic, social, and cultural perspectives. [7] Designers now strive to be responsible by means as varied as selecting recycled materials, exerting political force, and ensuring inclusive accessibility; ethical considerations abound! It is evident that the social responsibility of today's designer is not limited to protest.

In what forms do we find socially responsible designs? While they may range from anti-war posters to public health campaigns, it seems that they may be categorized as commentaries, calls to action, and actions. According to David Sterling and Mark Randall, the founders of action-oriented WorldStudio Foundation, commentaries are the most common form:

"The nature of graphic design often leads a designer to fulfill the role of social commentator rather than a true activist. The operative word is act. You can design a poster about literacy or you can teach a kid to read… It’s been our experience that the graphic design community often responds more to commentary than to action. Commentary is visual, it is sexy and can grace the pages of industry publications. Action is not." [8]

Given the urgency of many conscientious messages and projects, it is not surprising that form often follows function.

"True change often goes unnoticed because it is not sexy or glamorous. It is often more about function than form... It's more important that it work and solve a problem than be beautiful." [9]

However, as Steven Heller notes, success lies in both the function and the form:

"But in the final analysis, ethically responsible design is only as good as the message it projects or the information it conveys. If the message is bad then the design has no value; if the design is bad, the message suffers. So design must enhance, and good responsible design makes people think, question, learn, and act." [10]

Perhaps we could consider all graphic design to be responsible if all designers aspired to his aims: to make people think, question, learn, and act. After all, as Anne Bush so aptly puts it, “'response-ability' means the ability to respond and therefore implies exchange. [11]

To me, this exchange is part of what makes graphic design so exciting. To create visual communication necessitates engagement with the world. Idealistically, I hope that all designers, someday freed by the constraints of needing to make livings in market economies, will be able to make such exchanges only for the betterment of the world.

[1] Heller, Steven. Design Literacy: Understanding Graphic Design. Second Edition. New York: Allworth Press, 2004. (44)
[A collection of short essays on random, yet noteworthy, examples of graphic design.]

[2] Heller. (144)

[3] Heller, Steven & Veronique Vienne, eds. Citizen Designer: Perspectives on Design Responsibility. New York: Allworth Press, 2003. (32)
[A spirited and hopeful collection of essays calling for designers to be socially engaged and responsible in their work.]

[4] Heller & Vienne. (26)
Cranmer, John & Yolanda Zappaterra. Conscientious Objectives: Designing for an Ethical Message. Mies, Switzerland: Rotovision SA,
2003.
[Case studies of ten ethical graphic designs prefaced by two essays by the authors and one by Steven Heller.]
[Pages are not numbered.]

[5] Cranmer & Zappaterra.

[6] http://www.aiga.org/content.cfm/timeforchange
[“Time For Change,” an essay by Clement Mok on the need to professionalize the design profession, excerpted from Communication Arts.]

[7] Heller & Vienne. (55-56)

[8] Heller & Vienne. (57)

[9] Cranmer & Zappaterra.

[10] Heller & Vienne. (30)

Style & Purpose |

It was not until looking at examples of Constructivism, De Stijl, Bauhaus, and The New Typography that I found myself overwhelmingly seeing pieces as of an era – – of a time and place. Perhaps this is because we are surveying graphic design in reverse chronological order; it seems that the further we explore from the present, the more likely I may be to view artifacts as other. It is perhaps more likely, though, that this reaction stems from the fact that during the 1920s and 1930s, these movements and schools created such distinct styles. To generalize from my initial studies, I would say that Modernism was stylistically convergent while Postmodernism was stylistically divergent.

I purport that the best graphic design fuses form and function so well that it is impossible to perceive the two as inseparable; the viewer cannot imagine the design in any other way. I do not think that ‘form’ and ‘style’ are always synonymous – for example, I see the two as distinct attributes of sculpture – but let us consider them to be when discussing graphic design, which is often two-dimensional. Here is one definition of ‘style’:

"Style, in its most general sense, is a specific or characteristic manner of expression, design, construction, or execution. As it relates to graphic design, style suggests the dominant visual aesthetic of a particular time and place." [1]

It seems that the styles that emerged between the two world wars were quite absolute: Constructivist designers and artists mainly used black, white, and red; De Stijl designers and artists mainly used black, white, gray, and primary colors. During the Mechanical Age, concentric circles, infinitely repeating images, cogwheels, machine parts, and hands were common motifs. [2] Some attributes of these styles undoubtedly resulted from technological capabilities – for example, the development of photomontage - while others, such as the aforementioned color palettes, were most likely imposed by human parameters.

It is a difficult feat to marry form and function when applying style so uniformly, and I see this is the tragic flaw of these early Modernist movements. It is ironic that these movements developed for idealistic, social purposes but ultimately came to represent fairly rigid styles. Constructivist designers and artists believed in “the inseparability of art and everyday life, in the social utility of art” [3] while “De Stijl concerned itself with developing a utopian style and spirit; it was not merely about the stylization of things.” [4] Walter Gropius, the director of the Bauhaus, “believed that the Bauhaus should avoid imposing any particular style and that students should have the opportunity to develop their individuality.” [5]

Why did these styles become so universally applied to various visual communications? Perhaps it was these very ideals; when working toward social change, I imagine that there is something affirming about manifestos and absolutes. On the other hand, perhaps the development of such universally applied styles in graphic design can be traced to fine art influences. Both Constructivism and De Stijl began as art movements. In addition, cubism, futurism, Dada, surrealism, suprematism, and expressionism directly influenced “the graphic language of form and visual communications in this century.” [6] The artists of these movements strove to develop the truest methods of visual depiction, and they could afford to do so. However, painting and graphic design do not hold the same objectives, and I surmise that finding such ‘true’ methods in graphic design is less successful than in painting. Graphic designs aim to communicate, and I would argue that there is no one universal style that could be the best form for each communicative function. If we follow this line of thinking, then the designers of these movements fall short of their social aims. For example, while the Constructivists believed that designs should be understood by everyone, I imagine that illiterate members of the Soviet public had difficulty understanding El Lissitzsky’s abstract Beat the Whites with the Red Wedge, let alone acting upon it. I would imagine that later visual communications that utilized both Modernist principles and pictorial forms, such as Lester Beall’s posters for the Rural Electrification Administration, were more accessible to viewers and therefore more successful socially.

Alternately, in a time of such immense turmoil, perhaps the actual messages became secondary to alignment with the avant-garde, with the prevailing ideas of the times. If this is the case, then it can explain why commercial designs such as Werner David Feist’s Municipal Pools and Aleksandr Rodchenko and Vladimir Maiakovskii’s The Industry candy wrappers are hard to distinguish from propaganda; furthermore, it can then be argued that such stylistic convergence was entirely successful in the social realm.

"…where the commissioned painting was single, personal, and elite, the poster was multiple, social, and egalitarian.
Thus, even when a poster or package design was commercially inspired, it was often simultaneously ideological… consumer images frequently contribute to the ideological sphere, selling a way of life quite distinct from the commodity itself; the design as carrier of a social message thus gained a significant new dimension.” [7]

It seems that this must be the legacy of this era, for visual communications still sell ways of life today. Ambient design in advertisements, while dramatically different in style, is doing exactly that. In other words, the styles were indeed transient but the purpose remains.

[1] Heller, Steven & Seymour Chwast. Graphic Style: From Victorian to Digital. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 2000. (9)
[A chronological survey of styles that is packed with examples accompanied by brief blocks of text.]

[2] Rothschild, Deborah, Ellen Lupton, & Darra Goldstein. Graphic Design in the Mechanical Age: Selections from the Merrill C. Berman Collection. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998. (117)
[Plates organized by Design and: the Avant-Garde, Commerce, Social Change, & Politics. Includes extensive essays and artists’ biographies.]

[3] Rothschild, Lupton, & Goldstein. (113)

[4] Rothschild, Lupton, & Goldstein. (110)

[5] Heller & Chwast. (114)

[6] Meggs, Philip B. A History of Graphic Design. Third Edition. New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 1998. (231)
[A thorough, chronological history of graphic design.]

[7] Rothschild, Lupton, & Goldstein. (109)

Koloman Moser's Poster |
for the Thirteenth |
Vienna Seccession Exhibition |

The Vienna Secession, or Sezessionstil, was founded in 1897 and “became a countermovement to the floral art nouveau that flourished in France and Germany.” [1] Koloman Moser was one of the key members of this revolutionary group, and his poster for its thirteenth exhibition in 1902 is cited as “a masterpiece of the mature phase” of this movement. [2] This was an era of rapid stylistic evolution; indeed, it is striking how much this poster differs even from Moser’s own poster for the fifth Vienna Secession exhibition in 1899. A critical analysis of this 1902 design points to its place in history on the brink between the organic, decorative style prevalent in the late nineteenth century and the geometric style that evolved during the twentieth century.

Because this design is an exhibition poster, it is a call-to-action soliciting visitors to the exhibition. It does so by presenting a message about the Vienna Secession at that period in time: namely, that the group’s creations are interesting and important precisely because of their integration of old and new stylistic devices. I imagine that the visual elements that Moser chose and the ways in which he used them served to indicate that the artists and designers of the Vienna Secession were building on what came before them in new and exciting ways, yielding ever greater works. Given this message, I suspect that Moser was an artist/designer communicating to other artists and designers rather than to the general public.

The poster is an extremely vertical rectangle with a 3:1 height:width ratio. This format is reminiscent of the posters of the Glasgow School, suggesting that Moser was inspired by this movement; not surprisingly, a comparison is suggested between this poster and two of The Four’s posters: The Glasgow Institute of the Fine Arts (Margaret and Frances Macdonald with J. Herbert McNair, 1895) and The Scottish Musical Review (Charles Rennie Mackintosh, 1896). The space within this vertical format is utilized to the fullest extent; the images and patterns extend to touch all four sides. In this way, the composition seems to exist in a module rather than a space. Indeed, all the shapes are flat colors, so there is nothing to indicate depth; the shapes only overlap in one instance, and this overlap merely creates a translucent gray, not perspective. The composition is symmetrical across the vertical axis and modular in its use of proportion. The most visible use of proportion is in the scale of the large circle at the top. Its diameter is matched both by the width of the text blocks and by the interval between the lowest point on its curve and the top edge of the text blocks.

The primary images in this poster are three identical figures which occupy slightly more than the top half of the poster and are as vertically elongated as the poster itself. This placement makes the viewer look up at them but not in reverence, for they seem to be looking back at the viewer; this forces engagement. I hazard that Moser’s illustration style points to the contrast between human and machine that was of great concern at the turn of the century. He carefully balances circles with squares and rectangles. He has rendered human forms with assembly line consistency and geometric precision, and yet he has emphasized their most human attributes: their hearts are filled with pattern rather than solid color, and their minds are scribed with a circle that is the largest single element in the poster. This circle serves to unify the three minds, perhaps suggesting the unity within the Vienna Secession.

Moser has integrated type and image seamlessly in this poster. The text is fit into horizontal modules beneath the figures. Instead of leading between the lines of words, there are fine horizontal rules. This treatment, coupled with the type style, allows the type to function as pattern as well as words. The type style, like the illustration style, suggests a balanced consideration of both human and machine; it is organic yet controlled. All the letterforms are composed of circular curves, vertical lines, horizontal lines, and 45-degree diagonal lines. The blocks of text are separated by horizontal bands of square and triangular patterns. In the top bands, or modules, the solid blue squares framing the header text serve not only as pattern but also as continuation of the legs of the two lower figures; this is achieved because the blue squares mimic those on the legs of the upper figure.

The color palette in this poster is rich but limited: black, navy blue, burgundy, brown, beige, and gray. Even the beige, the hue with the lightest value, is relatively saturated. This overall saturation gives the poster an intensity that is appropriate to match the geometry, patterning, and full use of space; there is no relief, and so the viewer has no choice but to engage. Interestingly, the colors are used differently in the top and bottom halves of the poster. In the top, the illustrations utilize the colors as a group; in the bottom, the text and patterns only utilize the colors in pairs. I think that this enhances legibility of both image and type.

All shapes and modules in this poster are outlined with a fine black line. This references stained glass to me, so I was not surprised to discover that Moser designed stained glass as well. [3] This seems an appropriate reference for the Vienna Secession, for “various members specialized in one or more disciplines: architecture, crafts, graphic design, interior design, painting, printmaking, and sculpture.” [4] What better way to communicate this exploration of various media than to integrate one into another? It appears to me that Moser first did so with this poster and then went on to promote this through teaching. Together with Josef Hoffman, he started the Vienna Workshops, Wiener Werkstätte, in 1903 [5] and helped to found the Arts and Crafts movement. [6] It seems that this poster really does epitomize a brink in design history.

[1] Meggs, Philip B. A History of Graphic Design. Third edition. New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc. 1998. (214)
[The chapter “The Genesis of Twentieth-Century Design” includes a section on the Vienna Secession. This poster is Figure 14-23 on page 218.]

[2] Meggs. (218)

[3] http://www.thamesandhudsonusa.com/new/fall02/509306.htm
[This book review of Koloman Moser by Maria Rennhofer provides a brief biography.]

[4] Meggs. (218)

[5] Meggs. (218)

[6] http://www.thamesandhudsonusa.com/new/fall02/509306.htm

The Influence of the Far East |
on Gisbert Combaz's Poster for |
La Libre Esthetique, 1898 |

Looking through the Art Nouveau section of Philip B. Meggs’ A History of Graphic Design, I was struck by Gisbert Combaz’s La Libre Esthetique Poster of 1898, for it stood out from contemporaneous works. I was attracted to the predominantly bright color palette: red, light blue, chartreuse, and teal contrasted with black, dark brown, and white. These colors may have descended from the palettes of Paul Gauguin and Vincent van Gogh, for these painters exhibited with the Cercle des XX, the progressive Belgian group from which La Libre Esthetique evolved. What seemed most unique about this poster was not the bright colors but the use of white outlines to delineate forms.

Was this really so uncommon a graphic device? I decided to investigate this by (admittedly rather obsessively) flipping through the design history tome page by page in search of white outlines. Surprisingly, though there are innumerable examples of black outlines throughout design history, there are very few instances in which the opposite value is employed for this purpose. During the Arts and Crafts period, the interplay of dense positive and negative space in woodcuts occasionally resulted in seeming white outlines; the line-like spaces between packed, pointed leaf forms of The Hobby Horse (Selwyn Image, 1886) are an example of this phenomenon. Compositionally, these negative spaces are quite different from the white outlines that Combaz used to partition elements of the poster plane. Three years before he created this particular poster for the annual exhibition of La Libre Esthetique, Frances Macdonald, Margaret Macdonald, and J. Herbert McNair of the Glasgow School employed white outlines in their poster for the Glasgow Institute of Fine Arts. It is possible that he was influenced by this revolutionary work of the same decade; however, I suspect that his white outlines drew inspiration from a more distant source: the Far East.

I formed this conjecture by visual analogy: to me, this poster resembles Asian art and craft in its decorative and abstracted representation of a bird and a flowering tree, in its patterning (especially in the bird’s tail), and in its outlines—both white and black—employed to separate forms. My conjecture was affirmed when I read that Combaz was in fact an artist and art historian who specialized in the Far East. [1] It is known that artists and designers of the Art Nouveau era were influenced by Japanese art, but Combaz’s stylistic choices do not seem influenced by Ukiyo-e, the Japanese woodblock prints of which so many others were enamored at the time. Rather, they seem influenced by the textile tradition of batik.

It seems likely that textiles would have been among the Asian imports brought to Europe during the late nineteenth century:

"The textiles are particularly varied and numerous, and this is to be expected, for the Far Eastern silk industries were of legendary fame. Indeed, the trade lines to the west were called the silk routes… The most sumptuous of the dyed fabrics were made by the Southeast Asian technique of batik, or wax-resist dyeing." [2]

The tradition of batik is more than 2000 years old and hails from many parts of the world in addition to Southeast Asia: Egypt, Persia, India, China, Japan, Africa, [3] Sri Lanka, and Turkestan. [4] Consequently, it is difficult to ascertain from where in particular this Belgian drew his influences, but, given his interests, it is reasonable to suspect an Asian origin. It is certainly possible, given the Japonisme of the Art Nouveau era, that Combaz looked at Japanese textiles. However, batik seems to be a less common method of resist-dyeing in Japan; Shibori, an endemic technique using binding, stitching, folding, and/or pole-wrapping, was much more prevalent in Japan but creates patterns that bear little resemblance to the poster for La Libre Esthetique. [5]

Instead, for both technological and thematic reasons, I suspect that Combaz was inspired by Javanese batik. The Javanese invented the canting waxing instrument that “enabled the finest hand-drawn batik to be produced” by gliding across the fabric in order to drip wax in a smooth, continuous flow. [6] This yields light outlines (because the wax resists the dye) of relatively uniform line weight much like those of the poster. If Combaz were not exposed to this type of batik, perhaps he was exposed to printed batik:

"In Java in the middle of the 19th century the technique of wax-resist batik using a copper block or cap was developed because the supplies of European machine-printed imitation batik had been interrupted due to the economic disruption caused by the American Civil War. The structure of the caps was inspired by European block-printing stamps, but they were constructed according to local Chinese jewelry-making techniques." [7]

This history is evidence of cross-cultural pollination between Java and Europe well before 1898, the date of the creation of this poster. Furthermore, the bird and the flowering tree that Combaz chose to depict on the exhibition poster were common motifs in Javanese batik, and the style is in keeping with that of the Javanese:

"All the natural things surrounding the Javanese, such as birds, flowers, fruits, foliage, butterflies, fish, and shells, were used in the most elaborate motifs… Religious law, however, forbids the Moslem to represent any living being, so the peacock and eagle, those very royal creatures, and the elephant and all other animals had to be stylized to obey that tradition." [8]

Not only is Combaz’s bird depicted in a stylized manner, but it may indeed be a peacock. The tail feathers are not portrayed in a fan-like spread, but their variety and length are in accord.

Now that I have made my case for the influence of Javanese batik on Combaz’s poster, I find myself wondering why he chose such a reference for the annual exhibition poster of La Libre Esthetique, a progressive European group of artists. Amidst other European Art Nouveau designs, the poster must have garnered attention simply because of its unique style, but was there another reason for this Asian influence besides distinction? I imagine that there must have been, for the poster would have been progressive even without the batik influence: “the sinuous Art Nouveau line acquires the mechanistic precision of a French curve.” [9] Although I do not know why Combaz chose the influence of Javanese batik for this particular poster, I do know one thing: drawing on references outside one’s media or one’s culture is sure to bring richness and distinction to a work.

[1] Meggs, Philip B. A History of Graphic Design. Third edition. New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 1998. (203)
[Gisbert Combaz’s La Libre Esthetique poster is shown and discussed briefly on page 203.]

[2] Lee, Sherman E. A History of Far Eastern Art. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc. (274)
[This is a very comprehensive and informative survey of Far Eastern art.]

[3] Keller, Ila. Batik: The Art & Craft. Rutland, VT: Charles E. Tuttle Company, 1966. (13)
[This book discusses various batik techniques and shows examples of batiks from around the world.]

[4] Gillow, John & Bryan Sentance. World Textiles: A Visual Guide to Traditional Techniques. Boston: Little, Brown & Company, 1999. (135)
[This book is a treasure trove of histories, processes, and illustrations of various textiles.]

[5] Wada, Yoshiko, Mary Kellogg Rice, & Jane Barton. Shibori: The Inventive Art of Japanese Shaped Resist Dyeing. New York: Kodansha International
Ltd., 1983.
[This book outlines various shibori techniques with illustrations and explanations.]

[6] Gillow & Sentance. (135)

[7] Gillow & Sentance. (136)

Assessment Criteria for Design: |
Outlined & Applied to |
James Victore's Racism |
and the Death Penalty Poster |

Designs are built in three dimensions: concept, emotion, and form. A successful design relies on all three dimensions and integrates them in order to communicate. Because concept is the substance of the message, it is the foundation on which communication rests; therefore, emotional and formal attributes must be determined by concept.

Concept—what the design says or conveys—can be considered the cognitive dimension. Interestingly, but aptly, this dimension takes its place at opposite ends of the viewing and designing processes. As viewers or receivers, concept is what we understand after we have taken in the form and the emotion; as designers, concept is what we must develop before proceeding to create the emotion and the form through which a message can be interpreted. In order to have lasting impact, concepts must be memorable; they generally achieve this status by being powerful and/or witty.

Emotion—how the design feels—can be considered the psychological dimension. By providing clues that set the mood or atmosphere, emotion can be received intuitively by the viewer, thereby setting the context for understanding the concept. Because design is visual communication, these emotional clues are manifested in formal attributes (such as color, space, texture, and value) and in the relationships between visual elements (such as unity, harmony, contrast, rhythm, repetition, and balance). It follows that emotion, in addition to concept, must be the basis for formal decisions.

Form—what the design looks like—can be considered the visual dimension. The concept must be illustrated in order to be received both consciously (through the whole) and unconsciously (through the formal, emotional clues). The form must make the concept accessible, understandable, and memorable in an efficient manner. To this end, type and image must be used in a balance appropriate to the concept; sometimes, type must be at the top of the visual hierarchy; other times, image must be at the top of the visual hierarchy. Essentially, if form follows from concept (primarily) and emotion (secondarily), the Bauhaus maxim holds true in design: form follows function. Media and stylistic choices should be driven not by current trends or a by a designer’s personal preferences, but by the communication needs of a particular piece.

In this way, concept, emotion, and form can be integrated to create a successful design.
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What is the assessment of James Victore's Racism and the Death Penalty poster according to these criteria? Given the way that some people approach art, one might take a quick look at it and respond, “Anybody could draw that.” To do so would be to miss the point entirely. By crudely scribbling a drawing of a hangman game, Victore is being true to his concept, not displaying his artistic talent. It is apparent by looking at his portfolio that he holds true to form following function: sometimes he uses hand illustration, sometimes he uses photography; sometimes he uses handwriting, sometimes he uses type. [1] All of his work has potent simplicity.

In the form of this poster, the hangman image—necessarily involving both a line drawing and some of the letters of a word—takes the top of the hierarchy. Due to the large scale of this drawing and the rectangular frame around it, it is the first level of information which we receive. It immediately confronts us by engaging us in a tragic way; who would not think “nigger” upon seeing “_ _ G G _ R”? As engaged viewers, we are immediately complicit. This device of taking a fun children’s game and placing it aptly, yet horrifyingly, in the context of a serious issue holds our interest. We want more information—we want to verify our initial understanding—so we move on to the type: the secondary and tertiary levels of information in the hierarchy. The secondary level of information is placed in the top left corner above the frame of the drawing, making it simultaneously a headline and a caption; it reads “Racism and the Death Penalty” in red letters, and we get it. Once we have arrived at the message, there is no way to ignore it. The concept is both powerful and witty, making it extremely memorable. If we want to know more, we can move on to the tertiary level of information, a caption of a caption: a small typed paragraph that fills out the top margin.

What emotional clues does Victore choose to enhance the comprehension of his concept? The roughness and quickness of the lines set the context. They are hasty and crude, and yet they have been made permanent by being printed. Could this not be interpreted as a metaphor for the finality of racially unjust application of the death penalty? The color palette is primarily black and white with the small, yet quite important, addition of red. Black is interpreted as the color of death while red is interpreted as the color of blood. In name, black and white represent racial labels. In juxtaposition, the high contrast of black and white represent a harsh, polarized perspective; there are no mid-values in this poster, only extremes. This forces us to consider whether we are passively complicit in or actively against racially unjust application of the death penalty. The whole illustration is enclosed in an equally crude black rectangular frame; this not only defines the space in order to bring emphasis to the illustration, but it can also be read intuitively to suggest confinement and closed-mindedness.

It is apparent that Victore has made all formal decisions in this poster to the end of conveying the substance and the emotion of the message; there are no elements extraneous to this purpose. It can be concluded, then, that this is an extremely successful design. Concept, emotion, and form have been integrated to convey a powerful and witty (and therefore memorable) message about a very serious issue.

[1] http://www.jamesvictore.com
[This is James Victore's portfolio website. It is set up in a sequence like a book; the work is introduced by a commentary from Steven Heller, and the pieces are viewed in a set order.]

Reflection on Studio Exercise |

I am surprised to learn that some sophomores did not find this studio exercise to be very useful since it seemed too reminiscent of the 251 dot/line project in which we created compositions with emphasis, tension, flow, depth, consonance, and dissonance. Being a graduate student and having been in 251 this past fall, I still found this exercise to be quite worthwhile. I maintain that one can undertake any assignment on any level; it's all in what one makes of it and how one thinks about it. I would hope that I could approach such a foundation assignment in new ways each year if I were to do it again and again.

The elements and principles really are the building blocks and foundation of anything and everything visual. When I taught high school art last year, I made posters outlining six basic elements and six basic principles, and I referred to them constantly when talking with my students about their work. It would seem, then, that I have a good grasp on these fundamentals; it is easy to lose sight of them, though! When designing, I have found it too easy to get absorbed with the details of typography and imagery to the expense of the overall composition. To think about the most basic level of visual communication last week was a strong reminder for me to zoom out my focus, and it came at a quite pertinent time for a project in another studio class. It is rather ironic, isn’t it, that to see the macro-perspective – the “big picture” – one must look at the most basic, and therefore seemingly small, aspects? This foundation is anything but small, though. We need only look at the excellent examples of design presented in class to see that even the masters must use the elements and principles… They are not something to be outgrown! I hazard that even someone like Paul Rand could find an exercise like this to be worthwhile; he simply would approach it with a much more extensive background on which to draw.

From what little I know of Zen Buddhism, this idea of experts and beginners being able to learn from the same experiences seems resonant with this set of ancient Eastern beliefs. I flipped through a book of Zen quotations that I've had for years to see what I could find of relevance. The very first quotation in the book spoke to my realization that I sometimes blind myself when I get absorbed in the details of more complex projects:

"In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's mind there are few." -Shunryu Suzuki (1)

Another quotation – a riddle of sorts – seems applicable to this being the introductory studio exercise for beginning designers:

"Easy is right. Begin right
And you are easy.
Continue easy and you are right.
The right way to go easy
Is to forget the right way
And forget that the going is easy." -Chuang-Tzu (84)

Lastly, I found a quotation that explains studio teaching more succinctly than I ever could:

"Somebody showed it to me and I found it by myself." -Lew Welch

This, I believe, is why there is a studio component in this class. It is one (albeit quite educational) thing to look at examples of the elements and principles and devices; it is quite another thing to figure out how to use them oneself. I interpreted this first studio exercise as a way to give each of us ownership of our learning at our varying levels of experience.

Schiller, David. The Little Zen Companion. New York: Workman Publishing, 1994.

John Cranmer and Yolanda Zappaterra, authors of Conscientious Objectives: Designing for an Ethical Message, purport that “design graduates should be made to pledge to use their new-found communicative powers for the good and betterment of mankind.” [1] I agree with them wholeheartedly; I am admittedly an idealist, but I believe that all people in all lines of work should strive to adhere to this principle. Think what a different world this would be if we all worked compassionately! Katherine McCoy, in her essay, Good Citizenship: Design as a Social and Political Force, speaks of “a difficult world crying for compassion, interest, concern, commitment, and involvement. [2] I consider it to be especially important for designers to work with such values because visual communication does have such visibility—and therefore such power—in our society.

What does it mean to design for the good and betterment of mankind? As with anything moral or ethical, I consider there to be a spectrum. At the very least, designers should not design for anything that may do harm; Milton Glaser’s list of twelve prohibitions is an example of one individual’s assessment of this far end of the spectrum. In my estimation, one may be passively or actively responsible. To be passively responsible is to refrain from doing harm, directly or indirectly (in other words, to avoid the negative); to be actively responsible is to initiate change for the good (in other words, to promote the positive). McCoy outlines passive responsibility this way: “Yes, we are problem-solvers responding to the needs of clients. But we must consider the problems we take on.” [3] Stefan Sagmeister refers to the present era being a time in which “to think about what we do and for whom we do it.” [4] These are nothing short of ethical decisions.

What does it mean to be actively responsible as a designer? Jorge Frascara, Professor of Art and Design at the University of Alberta, Edmonton, Canada, defines visual communication design as such: “an activity directed at affecting the knowledge, the attitudes and the behaviour of people.” [5]  From his definition, I outline three more ranges on the spectrum of design responsibility: 1) affecting knowledge, 2) affecting attitudes, and 3) affecting behavior. As Anne Bush proposes in her essay, Beyond Pro Bono: Graphic Design’s Social Work, social responsibility can be considered social “response-ability”—the ability to respond. [6] How do viewers/readers/audiences respond to a design? Most protest and advocacy posters aim to affect knowledge and attitudes, so I would place them in the middle of this spectrum. For example, the Guerrilla Girls posters affect knowledge by providing statistics on female involvement in the arts and entertainment; I hazard that they also affect attitudes by the way in which they frame this statistical information: their appealing questions and attention-grabbing phrases make it difficult not to consider the context and impact of the information.

I consider design that affects behavior conscientiously to be at the most responsible end of the spectrum. Design affects behavior both directly and indirectly, and so responsible design must consider all of these impacts. An example of direct impact is a poster that is a call-to-action; not only does it provide information that can affect knowledge and attitudes, but it also provides a means by which interested viewers/readers/audiences can do something about the issue; to generalize, I would characterize this distinction as reaction (changed knowledge and attitude) versus response (changed behavior). For some issues, a call-to-action is not enough; action itself is necessary. For this reason, I can imagine myself crossing traditional disciplinary boundaries into fields such as product design, environmental design, or urban planning in order to affect behavior effectively. David Sterling and Mark Randall describe this as a consideration of function over form: “Often design that effects true change goes unnoticed because it is not sexy or glamorous. It is often more about function than form… It’s more important that it work and solve a problem than be beautiful.” [7]

Designs that are not calls-to-action—or even protest or advocacy—arguably still have indirect impacts on behavior. For example, I believe that advertising for a product (just like buying it) makes one complicit in all aspects of that product: the working conditions of the manufacturers, the sourcing of the materials, etc. Frascara envisions visual communication design “as a crossing point of a number of disciplines which converge to create communicational objects to address human problems.” [8] At the very least, I believe that design should not promote anything that creates human problems (such as sweatshop labor); this is how behavior factors into the passive end of the responsibility spectrum. Ideally, I hope that design can actively address human problems; furthermore, I hope that our definition of human problems can encompass environmental considerations as well. For example, one environmental behavior that is indirectly impacted by design is the sourcing and manufacturing of paper. If we are to be wholly responsible, we must strive to use sustainable materials in our communications.

So, how does one go about preparing design students to fulfill these ethical roles? I believe this to be an extremely important purpose of design education, but I feel equally strongly that it must not be done by forcing values upon students; one must come to one’s own decision about which range of the responsibility spectrum in which to work. Personally, I would like to make design that affects behavior. However, I would be more than satisfied if I could educate students in a way that would enable them at least to realize—personally and meaningfully—the importance of refraining from harm.

McCoy purports that our design education model descended from The Bauhaus has largely eliminated values from the curriculum: “Divorcing design from the content or context is a lesson in passivity, implying that graphic form is something separate and unrelated to subjective values or even ideas.” [9] While I recognize her point, I feel that it would be a mistake to overhaul the formal exercises that often comprise the beginning of the curriculum. Design functions on multiple levels: formal, emotional, and conceptual. To learn to work with all three all at once in early studio classes would most likely be overwhelming! However, content and concept could be addressed at the beginning of the curriculum through other means: lectures, discussions, readings, writings, etc. In this way, consideration of values could be introduced early on without affecting the studio foundation. Once students have developed formal and emotional understandings of design, they can afford to be introduced to various contents and contexts. McCoy suggests several categories of design purposes for projects in addition to business: cultural, social, and political. I hold it to be crucial that design students have the opportunity to undergo design processes for all of these various purposes; only in this way can they make informed decisions about that for which they would like to work.

Furthermore, I believe that to develop an understanding of context—which in turn nurtures clarification of values—necessitates a liberal arts background. Frascara supports this interdisciplinary approach: “The education of the designer, as a problem-identifier, a problem-solver and a proactive coordinator of multidisciplinary teams concerned with the welfare of people, requires an ambitious educational programme, built to a great extent on the basis of the participation of several disciplines, whose selection and relative importance might vary from institution to institution, depending on goals and resources. The complexity of the education of this generalist, who would concentrate on the design of visual communications that address social needs and problems, would enable the designer to enter into a productive dialogue with a variety of specialists, particularly with those in sociology, psychology, anthropology, education and marketing.” [10] Development of one’s personal values could be enhanced by individual selection of courses in other disciplines to complement the design curriculum. In this way, students would not have values forced upon them but rather could identify those which matter to them personally. To build on this broad educational background, some design projects could be committed to the communication of these personal values to the public, giving students the experience of creating ethical design. This is how I would initiate the education of citizen-designers.

[1] Cranmer, John, and Yolanda Zappaterra. Conscientious Objectives: Designing for an Ethical Message. Mies, Switzerland: Rotovision SA, 2003.
: This book includes several essays on ethical considerations in design and ten case studies of ethical design projects.

[2] Heller, Steven & Veronique Vienne, editors. Citizen Designer: Perspectives on Design Responsibility. New York: Allworth Press, 2003. (4)
: This book is a collection of essays about what responsibility means in design and design education.

[3] Heller & Vienne. (6)

[4] Cranmer & Zappaterra.

[5] Frascara, Jorge. User-Centered Graphic Design: Mass Communications and Social Change. Bristol, PA: Taylor & Francis Inc., 1997. (3)
: This book presents visual communication design as a resource with which to address social problems.

[6] Heller & Vienne. (30)

[7] Heller & Vienne. [56-57]

[8] Frascara. (2)

[9] Heller & Vienne. (7)

[10] Frascara. (6)