OK, so we were down at Castle Ward (again!) last weekend, this time for the Pumpkin Festive. And we thought, hey, let's go find The Bum Tree! The weird thing was though, although I'm damned sure that this was the right tree, that's not to right bum.
OK, so we were down at Castle Ward (again!) last weekend, this time for the Pumpkin Festive. And we thought, hey, let's go find The Bum Tree! The weird thing was though, although I'm damned sure that this was the right tree, that's not to right bum.
Interesting but seriously under-promising, the cover of this guidebook (circa 1955) does little to prepare you for what's inside. Each section starts with an illustrated divider page, beautifully illustrated by Michel Bouchaud.
Mr Johnson very kindly sent me a full set of the V&A and me maps that johnsonbanks revealed to the world recently (OK, I coerced them from him). They are amazing. I love them because: a) they're amazing, and b) they're a good example, in my view, of minimum means (unfolded, they're a standard A2 sheet) but maximum effect; if I were visiting the V&A during the London Design Festival and picked one of these up I'd be delighted with my free souvenir.
If you're not up to speed with the idea: for each leaflet a particular creative type was asked what they liked most about the Museum. Favourites were then plotted onto a custom-designed map-like layout; the "maps" then folded in an unconventional way so that the contents of each piece can be glimpsed when it is closed.
The invited creative luminaries included: Paul Smith, Nick Rhodes, Anya Hindmarch, museum director Sir Mark Jones, hat man Stephen Jones, Erin O'Connor and Florence (and the Machine) Welch…amongst others.
There's more to read on JB's blog.
Twitter followers of Marian Bantjes will know she's practically on tour at the moment promoting her amazing new book, "I Wonder". Described, on the back, as a "compelling collection of observations on visual culture and design", the book is a (literally) dazzling piece of work and a tribute to Bantjes' inspirations. Before reading a word it's clear that she's inspired by illuminated manuscripts and Bantjes brings the discipline bang up-to-date with a mix of high production values, precisely drawn patterning and repetitive photographic motifery. Like Sagmeister's books (he wrote the foreword incidentally), it's one of those publications you probably should buy whether you actually like her work or not. Love it or not (and there is loads to love) it's an amazing and startling object.
Read more about it on Marian's Blog here.
A parcel arrived last week. It contained the following items:
• 1 glass vial containing a real fake tooth, found near St Lucia
• 1 size comparison chart, illustrating the Beast's size relative to the Empire State Building
• 1 letter from expert hoax investigator, assuring us of the non-existent Beast's existence
• 1 DVD containing actual footage of made up footage
• 1 bottle of inky black rum
More evidence of The Kraken brand's mythical awesomeness.
We were at W5 last week. It was Star Wars day and Noah wanted to be photographed under attack from a variety of Empirical villainy. After the onslaught, we explored the more educational and, overall, more dead Nature Quest installations.
We had a great time until some "wee shit" nicked Noah's light saber when we weren't looking. We tried using The Force to track it down but The Force was bloody hopeless. So I used My Wallet to buy a new one instead.
Thieving Jedi Bastards.
That's W. Reginald Bray. It's 1903 and the postman's just delivered W. and his bike, by registered post, to his "patient" father, Edmund. The story goes that in 1898 Bray got his hands on the Post Office Guide and discovered, after scrutinising the small print, that you can quite legally post all manner of weirdness and the Post Office are obliged to deliver.
So he stamped up a turnip, a bowler hat, some dog biscuits, a bit of seaweed and his Irish Terrier. Needless to say, he didn't stop there and eventually gained the moniker, "The Human Letter". He died in 1939 when the Post Office installed new sorting machinery that stuffed him into an air tight sack and he suffocated.
Actually, I made that last bit up. He did actually die in 1939 but I'm not quite sure how; natural causes probably.
The Englishman Who Posted Himself And Other Curious Objects by John Tingey is another great book from Princeton Architectural Press. By now you'll have gathered I'm getting review copies from the press and it might be fair to think I'm, subsequently, rather biased towards them.
A fair but inaccurate assumption; the PA Press is just publishing a steady stream of truly superb titles. Titles that appeal, in particular, because they (the PA Press) seem to be focussing greatly on original ideas. A bit eclectic, a bit bonkers at time, but highly original. Check out their current list and it's packed full of weird and wonderful obsessions.
And they're beautifully designed too, with great attention to detail and theme.
Seb Lester's work is amazing, stunning and jaw-dropping. And astonishing. And also phenomenal. The man that brought us the mighty Soho and Neo Sans is a master letterer and collector of found type.
Who knows what particularly nasty rash is combatted by this ointment but there's something modernistically compelling and quite beautiful about the positioning of that red band. Notice too that the rule on which the lion is strolling is positioned exactly vertically central; suggesting either a designer with a precise mind or a happy accident. If you've got a nasty rash and a tube of Fucidin, to apply twice daily, perhaps you could check your box to see if Leo is similarly positioned. Please let me know. Thanks (and I hope it clears up soon).
In anticipation of the second Build Conference, the organisers (well, Andy) has dispatched emergency survival kits to the select few. Actually, he might have sent loads out for all I know. One thing I do know for sure is that I got one, because here it is, complete with stuff and things that will be indispensable to the devoted attendee.
I'm not exaggerating when I describe last year's conference as life-changing. This year's is likely to be better and includes people I've actually heard of, like Frank Chimero and the amazing Jessica Hische (who turned down a commission from us, but I'll try not to mention that). Local beards Chris and Nick will be working things out on paper and Tim Brown from Typekit will be speaking - along with a load of other people that know things that I wish I knew.
I don't know what tickets are still available but if you know what's good for you, you should do your damnedest to get one.
I think Alice is doing OK. Seems fairly happy. She sings a bit and eats nuts. She did a really nice job this week on a branding project. It looked superb. This is her final degree project - her response to the ISTD brief. And a lovely piece of work it is too. You can read all about it here. (Forgive her blogs brokenness, she's working on it).
The lovely elmwood box was made to Alice's spec by Fruitvale Woodcraft.
Found this in the surplus box in our local charity bookshop. Deserving much better I salvaged it even though I've already got it. Designed by Richard Hollis, in my opinion it's probably the second best Penguin Specials cover from that time. The best being Hollis's cover for The Stagnant Society from around the same time.
You might know Richard Hollis from his essential book Swiss Graphic Design from a few years ago but his website is superb with loads of examples of exceptional work.
Over the last few weeks I've been making my way through Steven Heller's latest book POP (published by Allsworth Press), or as it's sub-titled, How Graphic Design Shapes Popular Culture. A collection of grouped essays that sets out to examine how popular culture and graphic design influence one another.
First of all, I'd like to make it clear, I really liked it. It was a great read and packed full of interesting, if quite ephemeral, US-biased, pithy observations. Somehow, and don't ask me how, I've managed to avoid Heller's writing (some feat bearing in mind his prevalence in this business) and I really enjoyed seeing things through his eyes.
But a little way in something started to bug me. POP's sub-title, to me, pitches the book high. The blurb on the back backs this up and the press release that came with it continues, describing the book as a "…roadmap to understanding broader culture". POP reminded me, very much, of Bieruit's superb (and unpretentiously titled) 79 Short Essays on Design but while that collection of essays made no claim to be anything other than a collection of essays I became increasingly uncomfortable and unconvinced about Heller's bolder theme. This actually really annoyed me.
The funny thing was I persevered and it dawned on me why; I was enjoying the damned thing. To start with, the collected essay format is great; snippets of graphic ephemera, each taking little more than ten minutes at a time fits into my lifestyle perfectly (it occurred to me that this was the perfect book for the graphic designer's smallest room). Then of course, there's Heller's skill as a writer and design spectator; to be able to see something small and recognise its larger implications (his essay on the pavement measles gum problem in New York, for example resonated).
But I could have really done without the rather pompous premise. The grand dressing up of what felt more like a miscellany of memoiric observations. If you can get over that (like I did in the end) you'll probably enjoy Heller's design-view.
