25/10-2012 Pris: 99Kr
ISMN 979-0-2600-0043-8
9 790260 000438
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TYPO / Whats Inside?
Grafisk Design & Foto: Aleksander Isachsen
Inspirasjon fra: Stefan Sagmeister, KArel Martens, Claude Garamond, Marian bantjes, paula scher
Artikler kronologisk: Emily heyward, Amber Bravo, John Fountain, aleksandru bogdan, Paula Scher
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TYPO / whats inside?
Side 4 - 5 Happiness By Design Inspirert av: Stefan Sagmeister Side 6 - 7 Regret nothing Ispirert av : Karel Martens Side 8 - 9 Computers V.S. Handmade Inpirert av : Claude Garamond Side 10 - 11 Shit Life Inspirert av : Marjan Bantjes Side 12 - 13 mistakes Inspirert av : Paula Scher
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Stefan Sagmeister
TYPO / Happiness By design
TYPO / Happiness by design
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Stefan Sagmeister
To use a word like “legend” in connection with Stefan Sagmeister does not seem too far a stretch. It’s not only that this Austrian designer has received nearly every important international design award, along with a Grammy for his design of the Talking Heads boxed set (and 5 more nominations). Or his diverse range of clients, from Lou Reed and the Rolling Stones to HBO and the Guggenheim Museum. Or the countless solo shows on the work of his New York City design company, Sagmeister Inc, in every major design capital across the world. Or… well… we could go on for a very long time. But instead, Behance sat down with Sagmeister to hear directly from the mouth Most companies equate success with growth; like waistlines in ancient times, size becomes an indication of prosperity. But Sagmeister believes that remaining small has been the key to retaining his integrity as a designer and making ideas happen. He explains, “ T he conventional wisdom in our business is that you have to grow and keep moving to survive. We never grew, always stayed tiny, and it serves us very well over the years, allowing us to pick and choose projects, and keeping our financial independence from our clients. We actually have a rather good track record, because we do select projects carefully. Most of our ideas don't eat dust but glimpse the light of day because we find it much more helpful to spend some serious time and effort before we start working on
a project, rather than suffer through it afterwards. ” T his lean and nimble business philosophy likely contributes to Sagmeister’s courage to buck trends and move his company in the opposite direction of where design is shifting. As he tells us, “In the early nineties, when the modernism revival started and many designers opted for cold, slick design, it seemed a natural reaction for us to go the other way. My feeling was that so many viewers are left untouched by those machine-like visuals out there; that a more human approach seemed a smart alternative.” But even visionaries need a little process in their lives, and Sagmeister Inc. is not above simple procedures for staying organized: “ W e don't procrastinate, and generally start working on a project right away. We keep time sheets and flow charts.In
addition to citing a fascinating range of outside influences, Sagmeister proves that sometimes the best ideas are generated from a source very close to home ourselves. In his case, it was his own journal that spawned his latest success, proving that professionals should not shy away from the highly personal. He tells us, “ B y far the most interesting project I have been involved in the last years is a series of typographic works that came out of a list I found in my diary under the title, ‘Things I have learned in my life so far.’ Every one of these pieces was published, and so far they have appeared as French and Portuguese billboards, a Japanese annual report, on German TV, in Austrian magazines, as a New York direct mailer, and an American poster campaign. The series was influenced by
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Karel Martens
TYPO / Regret Nothing
TYPO / Regret Nothing
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karel martens
Limitations—– even in choice of wardrobe—– f uel the creative fires of Dutch master Karel Martens. His influential graphic design career spans nearly half a century, and he continues to explore new ground. “There are so many ways to exploit a limitation,” Karel Martens explains as he advances through nearly 50 years of his graphic design work on his laptop. I“ n the past, limitations were always given to me because there was no money. When you went to a printer, you were lucky if they had the typeface you were looking for. But you learn from that sort of thing.” He is visiting Yale University—–as he has done every year for three weeks since 1997— to work with first-year MFA students. He has staked out a corner of the program director ’ s office, perching his computer on top of a print-littered table. He pauses to check that the keys he has tethered to his belt loop are still attached, explaining that he recently locked himself out of the office while his computer was inside. His glasses, too, are fastened by a makeshift leash. The simple string tied in a knot at either end of each eyeglass arm, along with Martens’s considerable body of work, shows that making do is often best for making. The jury for the 1996 Dr. A. H. Heineken Prize for Art described Martens as “a rock in the defense against the sometimes all-too-fashionable graphic racket that surrounds us.” And indeed, in the
Netherlands, where Martens lives and works, there is quite a racket with which to contend. But that wasn ’ t always the case. Trained as a fine artist, Martens attended the Arnhem School of Art in the late 1950s (finishing in 1961) and received instruction in “publicity” once a week from a painter. Martens views his lack of professional instruction as his gain: “I’m really happy that it was that way, because it gave me a broader experience. Now design education is about design, design, design—–and that’s a danger. I believe it’ s better to be fed by society and other disciplines.” During the early part of his career, Martens worked in small villages, but his approach to design was never that of an isolationist. He often cites his generation and its ideals as shaping his attitude toward design, not to mention the organizations he worked for: often small, impecunious presses with socialist bents, like the Socialistiese Uitgeverij Nijmegen, for which he designed countless book covers between 1975 and 1981. Martens’s dexterity and economy are apparent in his work from the late 1960s and early 1970s, where graphic systems develop by way of a single color shift and the repetition of form. As he says, “I am a strong believer in the power of absence, so that you suggest things instead of showing them.” In addition to his print work for various publishers, Martens also produced designs for the Dutch government
throughout the ’ 8 0s, ‘ 9 0s, and into the ‘ 0 0s for coins, postage stamps, and telephone cards, among other things. He’ s also worked three-dimensionally, creating signage and the occasional building facade, like the Veenam Printers Ede building and the new extension for the Philharmonie building in Haarlem. In 1998, the Leipzig Book Fair named Karel Martens: Printed Matter, designed by Martens with Jaap van Triest, the best-designed book “in the whole world”—–a comically super-lative prize, but one that distinguishes Martens as a master in his medium. Despite being one of the most beloved graphic designers practicing today, Martens has maintained a great degree of humility. As he puts it, “When I started working, designers’ names weren’t even printed in books!” The role of the graphic designer has grown, so when the director of the Academy of Fine Arts in Arnhem approached Martens and Wigger Bierma to head a postgraduate program in graphic design, Martens proposed that it operate as a fully functioning studio. Martens and Bierma imagined that students would work alongside professors on commissioned work—–in effect, all program participants would get their hands dirty. They opened Werkplaats Typografie (WT) in the fall of 1998 and invited five students to join them in a former radio distribution center in northern Arnhem. True to his vision, Martens has since
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Claude Garamonder
Legendary graphic designer Milton Glaser once said, “ C omputers are to design as microwaves are to cooking. ” Now while one or two designers might want to argue that point, is it possible that we rely on the computer too much these days? Are the core skills of the designer slowly beginning to evaporate? In short, is it time to dust down the old sketchbook?
Unplug from time to time. Get away from the computer and draw, paint, or make something. It keeps you sharp. ”
Let’ s go back a few years. Not that long ago the practice of design would begin, not with the startup chord of a Macbook Pro, but with the sound of the sharpening of pencil.
Another believes that computers have had a detrimental effect on the reputation of designers. “ E arly in my career (pre-computer) people would ask me what I did for a living and I’d say “ I ’ m a graphic designer.” and the usual response was something like “ Y ou get paid to draw? I can’t draw a stick figure….” and they’ d proceed to admire, recognize and clearly associate my core skill and craft with what I did for a living. But now (post-computer) when I tell
Armed with a trusted 2HB, eraser and layout pad, the old school designer would explore his ideas and allow concepts to form without the security of Photoshop or photo library. He or
she would simply put pencil to paper and then wait and see what happened. It wasn’t about being a great illustrator. These designers knew that their d o o d l es a n d s k e tc h es w e r e a n important part of the creative process. Drawing sparked visual thinking and allowed them to go back to basics and express thoughts without getting lost in technique and effects. Whether you have the skills to be a full-
blown illustrator or not isn ’ t the point. Improving your drawing skills makes you a better designer. You’ l l be able to take the intangible idea in your head and flesh it out on paper, it’ s that simple. As one self proclaimed old schooler puts it, “ T he computer is arguably the most useful tool to designers nowadays, but in contrast, we ’ v e managed to design beautiful things for thousands of years without them.
TYPO / Computer V.s. Handmande
people what I do the normal response tends to be something like this “ T hat’ s cool. I have a computer too. I printed some ink jet business cards for…” and they proceed to associate what they do on a hack PC in their spare time using Microsoft Paint, prefab templates, Comic Sans font, and clip-art with what I do as a professional for a living. Gone is the appreciation or even recognition of a skill or craft I possess to do my job. For the most part they don ’ t view themselves as lacking any core ability because the computer in their mind has replaced the skill and craft they once associated with my ability.”
In an interview for MacWorld, Milton Glaser explained why he disapproves of the computer as a primary design tool, “The idea of drawing as a discipline that is necessary for the practice of design has just about vanished. I’ve found that students have absolutely no idea, or any ability of any kind to represent their ideas through drawing . . . the imperative to draw has vanished. The problem with the computer is that when you go on the computer, everything has to be made clear too quickly,” he says. “A nd so the essential part of the developmental dialectic disappears. The greatest liability to the computer is that a lot of
TYPO / Computer V.S HAndmade
Claude Garamond
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Marian Bantjes
I am a graphic designer for a web design firm in San Francisco. I have been doing graphic design for over six years, as well as some freelancing work on the side. If I had to describe myself in three adjectives, I would say “empathetic,” “creative,” and “caring.” I’m of mixed race (white and American Indian) and a male-to-female transgendered person. I made the transition almost four years ago, and my coworkers have been very loving and supportive throughout the entire process. I haven’t encountered any discrimination in the workplace. My job is to take what clients and supervisors want from the project and create it graphically on a computer. On my last project a client wanted a certain visual theme, so we took their suggestions and created a few visual themes to pitch. They selected one they liked best, we did a few revisions, and then I designed the final version. Web pages are very complex and making them look nice requires a lot of graphics, so my job in the second stage is to work with our computer programmers to make sure my graphics fit into the technical side of the web page. I really love my job. Few people are lucky enough to get paid every day to draw. I
would definitely rate my job satisfaction at 10. My company is a really great place to work. I may not always feel like my work makes a huge difference in the world, but I enjoy designing things and making someone’s vision come to life. Unlike some of my co-workers, I did not go to school to learn graphic design. I attended community college for two years and studied art, but I dropped out and started playing music instead. After a few years I wanted more stability so I started taking Photoshop and InDesign classes at night. After that I freelanced for a while before I landed a full-time gig
at my current employer. I don’t think the lack of formal education makes me any less competent at my job, but it would have probably allowed me to get a job sooner. At the end of the day, however, employers in this industry really want to see your portfolio and what you can actually do. Having a diploma doesn’t matter as much if you’re a good designer. A lot of things about graphic design I had to learn the hard way because I didn’t learn them in school. I was selftaught in quite a few things, which gave me a unique approach to the way I handle design. Basically I just played
around with design programs, made mistakes, and kept refining my craft. It wasn’t always easy but I was passionate about art, which made struggling through trial and error much easier. The single most important thing I’ve learned outside of school about the working world is how to interact with clients. Coming from an art background, you don’t make art according to other people’s visions. It was hard for me at first to accept that kind of direction from someone. I took some time to learn how to accept someone paying me for my art to look a certain way. In the end I started viewing my job like a tattoo artist: I’m good at the art, but at the end of the day someone else has to wear that art around, so you need to listen to what they want. Once I started thinking about it that way, I became
TYPO / Shit LIFE
TYPO / Shit life
marian Bantjes
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paula scher
TYPO / mistakes
TYPO / mistakes
There are two different ways this thing works. I did a TED talk about the difference between serious work and solemn work. I define serious work as being where you make breakthroughs, and solemn work as doing the status quo and the level may be very good but it's not breakthrough.There's another factor—and I'm talking about this as a designer, but I imagine it would work in any form of the arts and to science. When you're working and you make mistakes, particularly when you're young, you make discoveries because you do things that are inappropriate and wrongheaded, but within the wrongheadedness you find an unexpected way to go. These things are truly the breakthroughs. When you're fulfilling a function —when you're being obedient, in other words, you're doing as expected —you can't learn anything. Because you already know the answer. It's through mistakes that you actually can grow. You have to get bad in order to get good. You have to try a lot of things and fail in order to make the next discovery. That works in a short-term methodology when you're just working on a specific project, but also long-term in
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Paula Scher
terms of a whole career. I find I make big discoveries and I make huge leaps and then I repeat myself and I'll be known for what I did—I'll get the acclaim for the breakthrough—and that elevates everyone's expectation of who I am and what I'm supposed to do, and I will repeat that because it has become successful. And I will repeat it and repeat it until it provokes my utter failure because I'm going along doing exactly what I did. And it's very hard to make the breakthrough because in order to make the
breakthrough again, to go up again, you either have to fail or be unqualified for a job where you don't know what you're doing, where you make honest mistakes because that's how you learn. And that success is its own guarantee of failure. So you're saying that one of the ways that you experience failure is: Let's say you make a breakthrough and you're rewarded for it—by people praising it—and you repeat that same formula that worked for you and it gets stale after a while, and eventually that lack of innovation becomes regarded
as a failure? There are two different ways this thing works. I did a TED talk about the difference between serious work and solemn work. I define serious work as being where you make breakthroughs, and solemn work as doing the status quo and the level may be very good but it's not breakthrough. There's another factor—and I'm talking about this as a designer, but I imagine it would work in any form of the arts and to science. When you're working and you make mistakes, particularly when you're young, you make discoveries because you do things that are inappropriate and wrongheaded, but within the wrongheadedness you find an unexpected way to go. These things are truly the breakthroughs.
When you're fulfilling a function—when you're being obedient, in other words, you're doing as expected— you can't learn anything. Because you already know the answer. It's through mistakes that you actually can grow. You have to get bad in order to get good. You have to try a lot of things and fail in order to make the next discovery. That works in a short-term methodology when you're just working on a specific project, but also long-term in terms of a whole career. I find I make big discoveries and I make huge leaps and then I repeat myself and I'll be known for what I did—I'll get the acclaim for the breakthrough—and that elevates everyone's expectation of who I am and what I'm supposed to do, and I will repeat that because it has become successful.
And I will repeat it and repeat it until it provokes my utter failure because I'm going along doing exactly what I did. And it's very hard to make the breakthrough because in order to make the breakthrough again, to go up again, you either have to fail or be unqualified for a job where you don't know what you're doing, where you make honest mistakes because that's how you learn. And that success is its own guarantee of failure. So you're saying that one of the ways that you experience failure is: Let's say you make a breakthrough and you're rewarded for it —by people praising it— and you repeat that same formula that worked for you and it gets stale after a while, and eventually that lack of innovation becomes regarded as a failure?
Grafisk Design & Foto: Aleksander Isachsen
Inspirasjon fra: Stefan Sagmeister, KArel Martens, Claude Garamond, Marian bantjes, paula scher
Artikler kronologisk: Emily heyward, Amber Bravo, John Fountain, aleksandru bogdan, Paula Scher