Graphic Journey Blog

Make Me Your Princess

Against sex trafficking.

A few years back I protested against Wallpaper Magazine's insensitive competition called ‘Tart Cards’
and sent them a prose poem to accompany the above photograph that I took to convey the mood of my piece. They published it. 

      
I have now turned that poem into a short film, working with actress Dorota Zakrzynska and the highly talented musician/sound designer Tom E Morrison. It is in support of the work of the Helen Bamber Foundation and all those working against the evils of sex trafficking.

So do try to listen on reasonable speakers or earphones because the soundscape is very special.

WATCH HERE.

 

Free Pitching

A cautionary tale.

Recently, I was shortlisted, along with three other designers, to work on the branding of a new attraction at the Handel House Museum in London. We’d been whittled down from twelve designers who’d expressed interest in the project.

There’d been an initial meeting after all twelve of us had submitted detailed written responses to the brief including fee proposals and timescales. It was a Lottery-funded project, and so our proposals had to follow a particular formula and be delivered within an exact timeframe.

A week after the initial meeting I, and the other three short listed designers, were invited to come to a further meeting with the Board of Trustees. This meeting would happen on the 31st March. A little after this invitation, I received an email asking me to bring some ideas to the meeting with the Board of Trustees.

Wanting to be certain of what they meant about ideas, I asked: “Am I right in thinking that you’re now expecting creative concepts at our meeting in March?  I’m surprised because there’s been no mention of fees for this work. Does this request to create some preliminary concepts relate to the costing break down that I supplied in my proposal? Please could you let me know the position.”

Here’s the reply I was given:

“The committee has decided that they wanted to get as much of a sense as possible about the rough ideas that the potential designer might have.”  Having said that I was surprised when this was suggested, because I’d realised it would entail work and time, I felt that this was asking for a lot without any fee and possibly even a winning idea for free.

They continued, “One of our advisors is the Marketing Director at The Tate. He’s previously worked as the Marketing Director at the Guardian and he’s assured us that asking designers to produce some initial concepts for this meeting was normal standard practise and that he always worked in this way. He said that there wouldn’t be much point doing a face-to-face interview with designers without some rough suggestions of where the design might or could go.”

My response was straightforward:

“Firstly, I never take part in free pitching. My creative thinking is my livelihood. I don’t give it away unless it’s for a charitable concern that I personally want to help.”

“Secondly, free pitching is a practice that various bodies within the design industry are trying to outlaw and I fully support this. I’m surprised and shocked that the Tate Marketing Director has said that "this was completely standard and he always worked in this way."

It isn’t, and I think he should be ashamed of himself for giving such shabby advice and for having such little respect and regard for designers. The Tate is a part government funded organisation. It should engage in best practice, particularly with the creative community that it purports to promote. Needless to say I won’t be taking part in this ignominious nonsense and wish that it had been made clear to me that this was a free pitch before involving me in a considerable waste of my time”.

For the Marketing Director of Tate to have such an ignorant disregard of the worth of the creative industry is paradoxical. It suggests that he doesn’t believe graphic designers should be paid for their thinking, echoing the D&AD Chairman Dick Powell’s unfortunate and lamentable missive last year that design graduates should work for nothing. Where would the Tate be without graphic designers? No brand identity, no exhibition graphics, no catalogues, no posters, no signage, no website…

We live in a society where bankers and utility chiefs are paid obscene amounts of money, even when they fail. They contribute little joy, delight or benefit to our society. Designers do this every single day, and the best of them do it with great talent, passion and enthusiasm. Sadly this often makes them vulnerable to exploitation. If, as The Marketing Director of the Tate seems to be alleging, that they get designers to free pitch as a matter of course, I wonder just how many of our industry colleagues are being exploited by them. If you have had similar dealings with the Tate or know of anyone who has, do let me know in confidence.

This is a very sorry and sorry tale and a disgrace. I’d like to encourage The Tate and any of the short listed designers who intend to turn up for the Handel House Museum Trust Board meeting on 31st March to reconsider their intentions and think about the worth of designers and their time.

And a simple Google search will identify who the Marketing Director of the Tate and ex Marketing Director of the Guardian is, with his total disregard for designers.

 

DEBARCLAYS

Yet more banking news. The once self-coined ‘ethical bank’ The Co-operative has to cough up another £400 million for its past misconduct, to add to its already massive losses.

Meanwhile, over at Barclays, we are being fed a series of Loachian-style commercials (and very well made they are too) centring on the loyalty of good old British football supporters in a variety of scenarios showing ordinary people cheering on Barclays-sponsored teams. “Thank you – you are football” says Barclays as 86-year-old Everton supporter Billy Ingham sets off to see his beloved team play.

Dear old Billy Ingham

Much sentimental emotion is stirred up through the soundtrack and the reaction shots of the fans watching the highs and lows of the match. Meanwhile, we are expected to come over all warm and cosy and actually believe that Barclays really does care and is genuinely thankful for its many football supporters. 

But the fact is, it is people like Billy and the many thousands of fans like those featured in the commercial that were mis-sold pension plans in a calculated criminal way on an industrial scale, but no one will be ever be prosecuted because, as we all know, the banks are far too important and untouchable – no matter what they do. 

Those football fans should look up to the corporate terraces at the matches they attend – that’s where they will see the cosseted Barclays executives sitting in comfort, sipping champagne and segregated well away from the ordinary fans who we are supposed to believe they care so much about.

This is where the caring bankers will typically watch the match in sumptuous comfort

One has to question the morality of our creative community in colluding in this kind of cynical subterfuge.

 

 

Life without CDT

I'm talking on Thursday 27th March...

Event Details

JWT Building
1 Knightsbridge Green
London SW1X 7NW

27 March 2014
7:00pm

More information here

Things I like...

Such a humble thing. But so lovingly crafted. Found in an old stationers.

Things I like...

While out walking, I looked down at the bottom of this tree trunk and noticed, amidst the scrappy grass, these little folk that someone had planted. Down on my knees, I clicked and this is the result.

Funny what you can see if you only look.

Early morning musings

Last year, I took part in a joint event between the writers’ collective 26 and the Letter Exchange, which represents typographers, calligraphers and letter cutters.

It was to celebrate 26’s tenth anniversary. The idea was to couple a member of 26 with a member of the Letter Exchange in order to collaborate on a piece that would be exhibited at the Free Word Centre in London in a birthday celebration.

There was a gathering at a pub in Clerkenwell, where a large dictionary was centre stage. Each pair of collaborators had to place a knife anywhere between the pages; wherever the knifepoint landed, that word became the brief for the work. There were 26 collaborators.

This was unusual for me because, ten years earlier, I was involved with the celebration of 26’s very first birthday, then wearing my designer’s hat. Ten years on, I was coming at it from the writer’s prospective. My collaborator was the wonderfully creative letter cutter Mark Firth. The word that our knife had pointed to was ‘fraction’.

We met up to talk about ideas, emailed, talked further, exchanged more emails and then jettisoned all the ideas. One morning while lying in bed anticipating the imminent sound of my bedside alarm clock bursting into life, I had an idea. It was based on the notion of a man whose day was regimented within a very rigid structure. This is what I wrote…

           The alarm sounded at 7.30 a.m. Dressed and bleary eyed, he descended the stairs, scooped two tablespoons of strength four Colombian coffee into the cafetière, glanced down at yesterday’s unfinished crossword – 6 down, 8 letters – Any number of equal parts. – Hmmm?
          He set his stopwatch to zero, slipped on his size 8.5 Nike Air trainers, opened the front door, checked the porch barometer (which indicated a crisp -3°C) and, with a quick intake of breath, sprinted forward into the morning chill.
          On reaching no. 14, with its distinctive olive green door, he triggered the stopwatch. From No. 14 back to his front door was exactly 2 miles and over the course of the run his heart rate would settle at around 160 beats per minute.
           When running he liked to focus on particular things: door colours of red, indigo, chocolate and apple green; and the many cast-iron covers that populated the pavement on the journey.  They also kept him alert to the frequent deposits of dog crap – he had never understood how people could scrape up fresh squelchy turds by a hand enclosed in a thin, plastic bag. The fact that it could split made him feel distinctly queasy. Glancing down again, he noticed he was wearing odd socks. This filled him with dread; he hated getting things wrong.
          Rounding the bend, his familiar yellow front door came into view – 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3. He hit the front gate two seconds before the stopwatch sounded. Perfect.
          Back in the kitchen. The kettle reached the optimum 92°C and he poured the steaming contents into the cafetière, and then buttered two slices of perfectly browned toast and cut them in half. An audible ping denoted the climax of his two four-minute eggs. With the radio tuned to 94.5 FM, he sat down for breakfast.
          Looking down again at the unfinished crossword, he picked up the pencil and filled in the remaining squares: F-R-A-C-T-I-O-N.

And this was Mark’s brilliant visual response to my story, beautifully cut into Welsh slate…

Life without CDT

A rare event for me, outside of this blog. I’ll be talking at the Typographic Circle evening event on 27 March, at JWT about my work and six years on, life without CDT. For more info click here.