Graphic Journey Blog

Drink me: Perception and reality

Have you noticed how the alternative world of food packaging? By alternative, I mean all the new-fangled drinks now available to replace cow’s milk.

The 1950s when all school children had their daily bottle of milk.

When I was a child in the 1950s, milk was an everyday occurrence at all schools. Each day, we sat at our desks, making as much noise as possible, sucking on the paper straws to hoover up the dregs at the bottom of the bottle. We would then fashion the foil tops into flying saucers, zinging them around the classroom. Many years later, when Margaret Thatcher became Education Secretary in the Heath government, she stopped free school milk, prompting the classroom taunt “Thatcher, Thatcher, the milk snatcher”. Two decades later, she regretted her decision. Too late, Margaret.

Back in the 1950s, no one seemed to have ‘intolerances’ – or at least no one mentioned it. At the age of seven became a vegetarian after struggling with the whole concept of eating animals, and most of what I was forced to put in my mouth later went down the loo in secret. 

But here we are in 2019 when everyone seems to have allergies or sensitivities or to be seeking alternatives for health reasons. And that brings me to the many non-dairy replacements for traditional milk. We have almond, coconut, soy, rice, oat, hemp, cashew, hazelnut, macadamia and quinoa, and the list seems to lengthen every time I visit the supermarket. 

The trailblazers Innocent in their grass-covered van.

In 1999, that quirky little setup called Innocent appeared with their “nothing added, just fruit” concept. They buzzed around London in a grass-covered van, promoting their fruit smoothies. The graphics and packaging had a DIY feel, and the product copy was friendly, funny and, above all, witty. The product took off, the company grew, and everyone loved it. Innocent, in turn, interacted with their fans and had AGMs like a happy family fun day. Then they sold part of the company to Coca-Cola – not a producer of healthy products and implicated in increased obesity and tooth decay. Eventually, Innocent became 90% owned by Coca-Cola, and no doubt, the three founders are sitting pretty. Lucky them. Coca-Cola has expanded the Innocent range and produced bigger bottles. The one-time cute little company is now a cog in a big conglomerate machine.

Innocent's an expanded range, bigger bottles, more profits and more plastic.

Innocent had well and truly established a new way of marketing products to an increasingly health-conscious public, but on a more in-depth investigation, the perception and the reality were often at odds. Magazines started to point out that Innocent-tagged ‘healthy’ products were not so healthy, giving the example of their 250 ml bottle of pomegranate, blueberry and acai smoothie with a sugar content equivalent of three and a half glazed doughnuts (171 kcal and 34.3 g of sugar).

In 2007, Innocent was found guilty of making false health statements and for misrepresenting their carbon footprint claims, so not so innocent after all.

Over the past decade, all sorts of smoothies have crowded onto the supermarket shelves, trying to out-Innocent Innocent. Now we have the ever-increasing phenomenon of dairy-free alternatives. What interests me is their presentation through the graphics and copy.

When these products started to appear nationally, the front-runner was Alpro – they were everywhere. The packaging was and still is horrible, but I continued to buy the product. They are always on all the shelves but now having to rub shoulders with an expanding market of newbies. Take a look.

Oatly is everywhere.

I have tried many of the new arrivals and settled on the Oatly oat milk, the 'Barista'version because it froths up so well for my coffee. The consciously naive style of the design, with its foundation-course-style linocuts, hand lettering and wittily written copy seems to hit a more emotive note for its audience and was created by the brand, design and marketing consultancy Big Fish.

And their ads make for an amusing read.

Looking at the packaging, I imagined some little startup working out of an old farm building somewhere in deepest Dorset. Not a bit of it: Oatly is, in fact, older than Innocent and founded in Sweden, and supply their products to 20 countries throughout Europe and Asia. So clearly not the little operation I had imagined, or rather what the packaging had primed me for. But on the environmental front, they are keen to enable a potential 80 per cent reduction in CO2 emissions by convincing all the coffee shops to use Oatly Barista in place of cow's milk. We'll see.

Moo Dairy's attempt to make their packaging look friendly.

Arla's attempt at blending into the health arena.

The whole of Rude Heath's range is utterly banal. 

Another newcomer, the Good Hemp company is a little closer to my original imagined vision of messing around in barns and farm kitchens to produce a product. And it turns out to be true (well, so their web site says). Farmers Henry and Glyn experimented with various concoctions, from their hemp seed harvest making oils and salad dressings. They then hit on the idea of creating hemp seed milk. Oddly, when introduced last October, their packaging looked like this:

It was very dull and predictable. But hay presto earlier this year they switched to this.

All hand-lettered and looking like the work of Marion Deuchars? 

Big Fish has given Good Hemp the Oatly's treatment. Once again, it has the DIY style with friendly, conversational copy and an emphasis on saving the planet. Their website packed with facts about the founders’ passion and desire to be good citizens. No doubt if they are as successful as Innocent, the big corporate sharks will sniff them out and make them an offer they can't refuse.

Sproud is another Swedish company and has given its product a more modernist feel. It's none dairy, non-gluten and none soy. Made from the pea, is non-GMO and doesn't contain cholesterol or allergens, and low in sugar and fat.
 

A non-emotional, pharmaceutical design approach to a health product. 

It seems these days anything with 'Wellbeing' attached to foods or drinks there has to be an 'Our story' dimension. Remember Deliciously Ella? Well, an almost identical backstory is attached to the Good Mylk Co. It was created by Brooke Rewa while battling food-related health issues. She started concocting juices and almond milk in her kitchen. By drinking her creation, she healed herself as so started 'sharing' it at farmers markets where it received instant success. Her product is now available in the chicest LA coffee shops. 

For those wanting to do away with cooking altogether, Huel is the one for you.

It is a high-protein, plant-based liquid meal, again packaged with a minimalist clinical feel, and designed for those obsessive gym dwellers without a millimetre of fat on their tight, tanned bodies.

 

With all this heightened activity on the 'health' drinks front the old frontrunner, Alpro has just changed its packaging too, as they put it "... a more contemporary look and logo, Alpro’s redesigned product range boast hand-crafted illustrations and front-of-pack nutrition labelling for the first time". But they have still managed to make the packs incredibly dull and no doubt designed by committee with very little evidence of hand-craftedness.

At every turn in the supermarket, there is yet another new product transmitting, 'I am healthy, buy me'.

There was a time in the 80s and 90s when British packaging was surprising and meticulously crafted with design consultancies like Lewis Moberly leading the pack (no pun intended). But all the excess and care of that period has long gone, and these days you have to look carefully before you you can spot anything of real merit. 

I first recall being attracted to Dove Farm when spotting this delightful logo.

 

But the Dove Farm Organics range is undoubtedly one of them. They've been around for a while and yet another company with a 'story'. Founders Clare and Michael Marriage sowed their first seeds in 1977 with the simple idea of making excellent quality flour from their grains. There is no faux naivety about the design of the packaging for their products; it is individual, calm, confident, considered well crafted and charming. 

 

This Dove Farm's flour range puts me in mind of two mid-20th-century greats, David Gentleman and his classic BBC & Broadcast stamps of 1972, and the work of American designer/illustrator Arnold Varga.

 

 

David Gentleman's 1972 BBC & Broadcast stamps for Royal Mail. 

 

London based Studio H designed the range. I think they are the most innovative packaging design consultancy working in the UK at the moment. They have a distinctive fresh style and seem to have attached clients that don't want their customers treated like numb skulls. The Living Food Kitchen is another of Studio H's clients. It has created this elegant solution for these health drinks along with their work for Pure Swiss yoghurt. 

 

The Living Food Kitchen another perfectly balanced range designed by Studio H.

 

Studio H's design for Pure Swiss hits just the right note of minimalism with charm.

 

Meanwhile, the rest of the market is a sea of mediocrity with badly plagiarised styles from the likes of Big Fish and Studio H. 

 

Above Sainbury's unsuccessful attempt at apeing the Dove Farm's style

Even the giant Kellogs are attempting to soften their image with a bit of hand lettering. 

 

And the old stalwart Quaker has joined the shelves with a health-conscious makeover.

 

Next time you are wandering around the supermarket try to seek out the truth of all this marketing aimed at you.

Japan jottings: A designer's paradise

I first visited Japan three years ago. I was entranced by everything about it. For a designer, it is an inspiration. So, when the opportunity arose again, there was only one answer: when can we go?

The delightful ANA flight attendants

I'm very lucky that I have a Japanese daughter-in-law, Chieko – my own guide and demystifier of all things Japanese. From the moment we boarded the ANA flight to Tokyo at Heathrow, Japan started. Welcoming us aboard the aircraft, the immaculately turned-out air hostesses, with hair tied back into tight buns, gentle smiles and hands clasped in front of them, bowed and say “Konnichiwa”. As if by magic, you are 40,000 feet up in the air, heading east, leaving the brashness of London behind and speeding towards the land of the rising sun.

I am breaking down my jottings under simple headings.

The people
Their beauty, politeness, grace and consideration for others are striking. They don't raise their voices; if they have a cold, they wear a mask; and at stations, passengers queue on marked platform lines, not the free-for-all that we have in the UK. Tipping in Japan is considered demeaning, so that's a little issue you don't have to fret over. In Japanese stores, you receive the best service I have ever experienced. You're not hounded, but the staff are there when you need them, always with utter politeness. Plus you never enter a house without first removing your shoes. In the UK and most other countries, no one seems to care about what is being brought into the house on their shoes, and people are happy to let their toddlers crawl around on their hands and knees. This devotion to cleanliness starts at school where pupils sweep and clean their classrooms at the end of the day. Try that in the UK and there would be instant litigation. So, very quickly, you are totting up the brownie points when comparing Japan with life in the UK.

The navy blue office outfit worn by thousands of women everyday.

What is also striking is that there is a strict dress code for corporate office workers: dark-coloured suits, always with a tie for the men. Women wear neat black close-fitting jackets and skirts, along with crisp white blouses and low-heeled black shoes.

 Japanese employees wear their uniforms with great pride.

And from railway workers to refuge collectors, there are specific uniforms – always worn with pride and neatly turned out. Many of the utility, delivery and food outlets favour American-style workwear brandishing patched logos. And the police look like US cops.

And it all starts at school with 'Ginza' school uniforms based on early naval and military dress.

Meanwhile, the schoolgirls wear tartan kilts, white button-down Oxford cotton shirts, knee-length socks and penny loafers. Others wear the more-traditional sailor-style tops. They can be seen everywhere chatting, laughing and stopping at the many colourful street market ice cream or sweet stalls.

Food & drink
This is one of the most important things in Japanese life: everyone takes it very seriously.

Food, conversation and togetherness are an essential part of Japanese life.

And in Hirokazu Kore-eda delightful film Our Little Sister food was a central theme.

The preparation and presentation are art forms in their own right. The table quickly fills with small bowls of various foods, a great deal of which is fish based and raw or marinated. And depending on the kind of establishment, you could be sitting on cushions on the floor or at an equally low table with a cut-out well below to put your legs. Now, I have to come clean here: I have been a vegetarian since the age of seven, and that includes most fish, so all that beautifully prepared and presented food was completely wasted on me. On both visits, I struggled, and unless you are a Buddhist monk, you won't find much vegetarian food around. Beer is the norm to accompany food, followed by sake. The Japanese office workers tend to endure long days and after work, they populate the many bars and restaurants to unwind, drinking and eating till late, often falling asleep on the metro home.

Architecture
What is immediately striking is the sheer density of the buildings in the city, spilling out into the endless suburbs. The land is very expensive; consequently, the living space is far less than we have in the UK. Apparently, the life of a building in Japan is around 20 to 30 years. Historic temples are the exception, but everything else is up for grabs on the planning front, and it all looks rather uncontrolled and chaotic.

If you can't build horizontally then go vertical. In Japan anything seems possible, even on a stamp size plot like this one in Tokyo, designed by Tsutomu Matsuno and Kumi Aizawa. 

Many clean lined, modernist pieces of architecture use cast concrete as the material of choice, as in this shop in Kyoto. But they often echo the traditional elements of older buildings, as the one below.

Above: one of the tea rooms at the  Daisen-In Zen Buddhist temple in Kyoto. Timeless beauty and simplicity. 

A typical new build, and rather bland looking house in Kyoto.

Many international architects have cut their teeth on initially designing buildings for Japan because there is less hassle in getting innovative concepts through planning, with many modernist examples dotted all over Tokyo, Osaka and Kyoto, the three cities I visited while there. Once you travel into the suburbs, the roads become extremely narrow, with houses and flats rubbing shoulders amidst a tangle of overhead cables and train crossings. And there seem to be Coca-Cola vending machines on every street corner. You look around and you've been metamorphosed into a Studio Ghibli animated film as laughing school kids with backpacks and cyclists holding umbrellas pass by.

A typical suburban street in Osaka

Traditional Japanese architecture has always been a key inspiration for many of the most renowned international architects, both past and present. And when you visit the many temples and tea houses, you are struck by their utter simplicity: exquisitely crafted with a timeless look and feel, they are a wonder of construction and perfection.

Kengo Kuma's design for the Nezu Museum in Tokyo

The Japanese have also had their brutalist architectural moments, as here with this sinister looking building in Kyoto. Cast concrete is still the favoured material for many Japanese architects.

Key Japanese architects include the great Tadao Ando and Kengo Kuma. Kuma designed the Nezu Museum in Tokyo, and is a beautiful example of honouring the Japanese tradition in a contemporary manner.

Windows in traditional Japanese buildings are all about the view, as here at Daisen-In Zen Buddhist temple in Murasakino ,Kyoto.

Gardens
Most people have seen the great gardens of Kyoto. Monty Don had a wonderful BBC series recently. But in reality, they are breathtaking: exquisite examples of painstaking planning, work and constant maintenance to create perfection that looks totally natural.

Azaleas in bloom lead the way to the gardens at Nezu Museum in Kyoto.

Above just a tiny sampling of the Imperial Palace gardens in Kyoto.

My grandaughter Yoko at the Imperial Palace.

The placing of everything in a Japanese garden is about the balance of the elements in order to create a mini landscape of contemplation. What is a delight is how the heritage of classic Japanese garden design continues in every little scrap of land in a domestic setting.

No matter how small, Japanese gardens adhere to tradition.

Even shops.

My daughter in laws parent's garden in Osaka.

It is frowned upon if you don't maintain your garden within the accepted rules. And the Japanese are an obedient race and really do adhere to the rules. But there is no doubt that they love their gardens, and the cherry blossom season and the golden hues of the fall are national outings for thousands of Japanese people.

Fashion
This is a very interesting mix of things. On the one level, traditional clothes are still very evident, especially with women. But the influence of the Americans following their occupation from 1945 until 1952 was significant. Baseball, basketball and golf all became adopted by the Japanese, and all the classic workwear described earlier is a staple for factory and utility staff. Everyday wear for men is clearly derived from the Ivy League and American sportswear look, which continues to this day. But the wearing of kimonos is still an everyday sight.

Along with modern jazz, young Japanese men in the 1960s fell in love with the American style known as 'Ivy League'.

 The style in Japan continues to this day with a companies like Beams (the above jacket available at £158), Muji and Uniqlo still following the  America look.

What a great look on this older guy.

Me on a train observing a group of traditionally dressed Japanese women.

Some garages are too small to house the small cars.

Cars/transport
I'm no petrolhead, but I have always had an interest in cars. As living space is, by necessity, very small, so too are the cars. I was amazed by the number of small Japanese cars that I'd never seen in the West – some were very cute-looking, while some of the larger vehicles were unbelievably ugly.

Japanese cars can be extremely ugly...

... and some incredibly cute.

And the trucks are pretty special.

And outside of Holland, I have never seen so many bicycles. Disconcertingly, they are allowed to cycle on the pavement, so it's a little hazardous for pedestrians.

Bikes are everywhere, including on the pavement.

The transport system is fast, super clean, air-conditioned and very punctual.

Top: Railway cleaners bow to customers after finishing their task, and below station staff thank their passengers for using the service. Can you imagine that happening on London Underground? 

And in addition to their famous high-speed bullet trains, they have the monorail system whizzing around the place. And where else in the world would the railroad staff bow to you when you leave the station? In Japan they do, and it is a delight.

Television
From what very little I watched, the TV seemed pretty dire, with many garish game shows with the screen filled up with multi-coloured Japanese typography. The news is delivered by the usual male/female duo but without the phoney banter, and it tends to be rather formal. But I didn't watch enough to determine if there were any more-esoteric stations.

Graphics
This is where the Japanese score high. Airport and railway signage is minimal and beautifully clear.

Above: examples of air and platform signage, rail maps and street totems

And they have always been masters of the pictogram. Wherever possible, they slip in charmingly witty logos, which they have a particular passion for.

This is the logo for a major courier company. The Japanese have a liking for cute animals and these types of logos are everywhere.

Beautiful tradition repeat pattern designs are used on containers.

These little hanging sheets are called a Noren. They can be seen outside shops, restaurants and houses. I loved them so much, that on my last trip to Japan, I hand one made for my home.

It says 'Come in'.

A very nice minimal poster on a bus shelter.

Even the graffiti is minimal and orderly, in the trendy Daikanyama area, with this space Invader tiled addition. 

Print production is particularly good, and paper is something that they have special expertise in. And if you are looking for books on graphic design, then there is no better place than Tsutaya bookstore in Daikanyama in Tokyo – it is the most wonderful store, stocked with everything under the sun.

Below is a beautiful giveaway leaflet that I picked up in the Tokyo Midtown shopping mall. i

A beautifully understated piece of graphics promoting a range of craft based designers, showing their work at Tokyo Midtown.  

A photograph from a series called 'Artisans' by Takuo Itayama, who had a show on in Tokyo.

This exquisite hand carved and painted traditional mask demonstrates the innate skill of Japanese craftspeople.

Music
In the UK, most coffee shops and restaurants insist on pumping out head-thumping rock or rap, making it impossible to have a civilised conversation without shouting. In similar outlets in Japan, it's a diet of calm, laid-back modern jazz – it's everywhere. Since the mid-1950s, the Japanese have had a love affair with modern jazz, and it is the perfect backdrop.

J-Pop group Tokyo Girls' Style.

On the pop front, there is J-pop, consisting of groups of very young Barbie-like girls dancing and singing hyper-cute songs in pink outfits against multi-colour fantasy sets. There are also metal and rap groups, if that takes your fancy, along with the usual music acts from the West. And there are many top-notch classical musicians and film composers like the great Ryuichi Sakamoto.

Safety
They say that Japan's only crime problem is too many police and not enough criminals.

They have these little shop like police stations dotted around the city, with a gallery of wanted photos and missing people.

What a luxury. Despite a 127 million population, the crime rate is very low, and there is a collective awareness of people’s safety. In bars, coffee shops and restaurants, baskets are provided to place your bags in so that they don't make contact with the dirty floor. The basket is placed at the side of the table. In the UK, this act would trigger a ready-made takeaway for thieves. Not in Japan. People leave their iPhones and laptops on the table when going to the loo. If a bag or wallet is lost in the street, it is highly likely that it will be handed into the local police station. As I write this, there have been four fatal stabbings in London – a form of attack that has escalated, with over 100 cases since January. The number of recorded crimes in Japan continues to decrease to a level unseen in the post-war period. That isn't to say there isn’t a darker side to Japan – there is – but according to Japanese government statistics, the arrest and conviction rate is extremely high. Japan is clearly a male-dominated society, and even though there is supposed to be increasing equality, women still earn salaries 27% below their male counterparts. And there is a lot of sexual abuse perpetrated on women, especially on crowded trains, so much so that there are now female-only carriages. So not all is wine and roses. But there is no doubt that Japan is one of the safest countries to visit, so they must be doing something right.

The future
What strikes you about Japan is, well, it's so Japanese. They have the ability to absorb things from other cultures without being overwhelmed and continue to maintain their unique character and culture. I can recall as a teenager that the view of the Japanese was that they were a nation of plagiarists. Not so. The Japanese have an uncanny ability to spot a product with flaws and improve it. Motorcycles are a classic example. During the ’40s and ’50s, Britain was a world leader in the manufacture of motorcycles. In the 1960s, the Japanese looked at our bikes and thought: a kick-start, that's crazy! They added a key turning system to solve that little issue. The idea was poo-pooed by the British – a big mistake. Very quickly, a range of motorcycles emanated from Japan, well made, reliable and cheaper, so our motorcycle industry was decimated. The Japanese went on to replicate this in improvements to cameras, electronics, trains and cars and have exceeded in innovation in all those areas and many new ones. But there is one area that may have a profound effect on the future of Japanese culture. It is an ageing population, and the birth rate has dramatically dropped. This means that there will be issues in many employment areas in the near future. Currently, only 1.99% of the population are foreigners. It will be necessary to attract far more from outside to settle in Japan. This will undoubtedly bring customs and cultures that could disrupt Japan's unique order of things. And much of what I have described in this post that makes Japan so unique and delightful could fade. I sincerely hope not.

We finally speed off back to Tokyo airport on the immaculately clean, air conditioned and punctual monorail. 

The phrase ' You could eat off the floor' comes to mind.

And finally, not to end on a bum note...
If you have never had the TOTO loo experience, you are in for a treat.

An array of possibilities for your visit to the smallest room.

Japanese loo seats are heated, and when you have finished your business, there are a series of sprays to clean your bottom, followed by a warm air dryer. It is absolute bliss, and with a book to read, you could camp out all day away from the heat and bustle.

And then suddenly, I'm back it London, in the mist of rush hour on a hot, overcrowded tube. The magic is over - until the next time, Sayōnara.

 

Eighth Grade: School's out

"You must go and see Eighth Grade, in fact, every dad with a teenaged daughter should go and see it", said my daughter. So, ever the interested and dutiful father I did.

Sitting comfortably in my local cinema, the lights dimmed and from the off, I was propelled into the world of Kayla Day (Elsie Fisher), a bright, seemingly self-assured, acne covered teenager conducting a podcast from her bedroom on one of her daily topics to help boost the confidence to those subscribing to her sparsely populated channel. But we quickly discover that behind the iPhone the truth about Kayla is a very different matter.

Her life is dominated by the blast of social media from every which way, effectively used by writer-director Bo Burnham throughout the film. As a child of the internet age, Kayla is never without her earphones plugged into all of the external pressures and influences, so important to the teenager's world. She is the only child in a single parent family, and living with her father, Mark (Josh Hamilton), who gives a beautifully nuanced performance in trying to keep a connection with his daughter but is constantly thwarted by Kayla. Mark's concern for her is palpable.

We follow Kayla in her last week of middle school and witness her attempts to fit in with the cool members of the class, where she is mostly shunned of interest or friendship. All of the embarrassment, bravado, fear, heartache and the sheer stress of being a pubescent teenage girl and one, who at heart, feels under-confident with her appearance and personality, but is desperate to be noticed as an individual, such is the cruelty of the teenage world, so perfectly captured in this funny, sad and moving film.

There is a very touching scene where Kayla says goodbye to her unhappy experience at middle school by burning her collected time capsule box, made three years earlier. She asks her dad to light a fire in the garden and in the warm night, illuminated by the flickering fire, with crickets merrily chirping, Kayla and Mark gaze at the boxed items, as the contents disintegrate. Free of internet disruption, they talk, and at last, there is a beautiful connection between them.

You could say that Eighth Grade is a pre, pre-cursor to Greta Gerwig’s Lady Bird (2017) and also has a link with Valerie Faris and Jonathan Dayton's Little Miss Sunshine (2006), all three have sensitively trodden similar paths.

I was very pleased I went to see Eighth Grade. My daughter was right, all dads should catch it.

Take a look at the trailer

Making it real.

I went to see Charlotte Rampling in Andrea Pallaoro's 'Hannah', made in 2017, but only just released in the UK. Rampling gives the most astonishing performance of her career. She goes to places that other actors would fear to tread, deep, heart-wrenching, dark emotional hells. And often achieves it with such understated subtlety.

Set in Belgium it opens on a close up of Hannah (Rampling) making strange animal-like squeals and cries. It becomes clear that she is involved in a Stanislavski style acting class, at which she appears to be the oldest member by several decades - having taken an identical course myself when in my 60s, I can swear to its accuracy. We see Hannah travel home in a menacing metro where a couple is having a full-scale argument about their relationship. All the while Hannah appears isolated in her own thoughts. At home she prepares supper and we watch as she places the food on the table and sits in silence with her husband (André Wilms) in their tiny kitchen, with an undercurrent of tension. It transpires that the next day is when her husband is to be imprisoned for a crime that is not clear at this point.

When needs must, Rampling as domestic help.

The wonderful thing about Pallaoro's direction is that nothing is heavily underscored, there are subtle clues leaving the viewer to piece together the story in their own way. Interestingly I think this film has a lot of parallels with Alfonso Cuarón's 'Roma' (2018).

Cleo in her daily drudgery.

Rampling is also a domestic help to a wealthy couple living in a modernist house with a pool, hot and cold running everything and a young son seemingly lacking in human contact, and there is an exquisite moment where the boy, clearly very fond of Hannah, asks her to scratch his head like she used to. He snuggles into her lap and as she runs her finger through his hair while telling him a story, he drifts into sleep.

A moment away from the psychological mayhem.

It was a moment of escape from their respective worlds, evocative of the relationship Cleo has with the children in 'Roma'.

A tender moment from Roma.

This is a film about, transferred guilt, denial, and discovery that the person you have loved, lived with, had children with and cherished has catastrophically shattered your life forever.

The high emotional commitment that Rampling has given to the film is staggering. There is one particular scene where after visiting her husband in prison where she rushes to a lavatory, locks the door, and the dam of internal emotion brakes through in a series of strangulated cries, that she attempts to stifle with her hands, but there is no stopping. It was primeval and one of the most truthful and heart-wrenching scenes I have seen in cinema. This is a slow reveal film, you have to engage and work to be part of the story. It is intelligent, uncompromising cinema at its best, and I salute both Rampling and director Pallaoro for their bravery.

See the trailer here

Another year..

Margaret Calvert: The right direction

When I started this blog a decade ago, I used the word 'Journey' in the title. This was long before it became one of those ubiquitous, annoyingly overused words, applied willy-nilly to everything.

But no matter, I still love Graphic Journey. And the design of the title banner above echoes the iconic motorway signage system that can be seen on any journey when driving around Britain.

The 1960's graphic designer's toolkit. Nothing to plug in. nothing to crash.

As every designer knows that signage system was devised and designed byJock Kinneir and Margaret Calvert back in 1965. In those days the graphic designer's toolkit consisted of a scalpel, tracing paper, Cow gum, a Rotring pen, a wooden T square, and when a mouse, was still a little furry creature.

Our National treasure Margaret Calvert.

Jock Kinneir died in 1994, but Margaret Calvert is very much with us and is the graphic design fraternities National treasure. Margaret still hand draws everything she designs, sitting at her desk at her cosy North London studio. And that is exactly where I recorded an hour-long conversation with her in 2015. In it, she talked about her childhood in South Africa, her design education and the story behind our classic motorway signage system, and a lot more besides. She told me she hated being interviewed, but as you will hear she tells a fascinating story. Listen to it HERE

Nostalgic treasure trove

Smells can instantly transport you back to a long-forgotten time. For me, it’s coal. As a boy, I would stand by the delivery lorries that would arrive weekly in my street and inhale that special natural coal smell. I loved it, but you rarely smell it today.

The other thing was ‘Evening in Paris’, a perfume that my grandmother wore. That takes me right back to her in the 1950s.

The other memory-tugging area is graphics via packaging, comics, magazines and TV commercials.

Stepping inside the Museum of Brands is like taking a trip in the TARDIS – your life is rolled back to a seven-year-old as you walk through a labyrinthine series of shop-like windows filled with wonders organised in chronological order. As you stroll through the curving passageways, you are suddenly pulled up in an instant moment of childhood nostalgia.

This was the first piece that founder Robert Opie brought back in 1963 from a vending machine in Inverness. How he didn’t eat them I don’t know, but it was to be the start of a passion that has driven him ever since. Over 50 years, he has amassed an astonishing and important collection of social history through these historical brands and packaging.

Victorian craft based maximalism.

I am always astonished when looking at the maximalism that the Victorians lavished on their advertising and the sheer craft in its execution.

Above the good old Radio Times using some great illustrators back in the 1930's, something that continued right up to the 1980's before it took a nose dive.

And in a bleak, post-war, bomb-damaged and rationing Britain, the colourful packaging and advertising promoted a new, optimistic future to keep the spirits up. And for me, the best thing was the futuristic ‘Eagle’ comic, so ahead of everything else at that time, with Dan Dare’s stories of adventure and space travel.

My bedtime passion, The Eagle.

And above and below the perfect bedtime warm drink.

And a mouthful of Fruit Gums.

The wonderful thing about the Museum of Brands is that while I am transported back to my childhood (with an ear to the radio listening to ‘Journey into Space’), others in the labyrinth are enjoying the memories of their own childhoods, be it in the ’60s or the ’00s. There is something for everyone, no matter their age.

When leaving the main collection area, you are led through to a space for viewing television commercials, from 1956 when they first aired on our TV screens, starting with “tingling fresh SR toothpaste” in glorious black and white.

See the very first British SR toothpaste TV commercial broadcast in 1956 

For schools, it is a wonderful history lesson. For any graphic designer, it should be compulsory. I loved it, was moved by it and wanted the whole collection.

Followed by Murraymints 'There too good to hurry mints'.

Alongside the packaging, you can see toys, TV tie-ins, posters, advertisements, books and all sorts of written ephemera in this delightful little museum. For more information click here.

Books, books, books: I love them

London studio where books are always close by.

I was recently ask to contribute to the always fascinating It's Nice That website.

They wanted me to share books that have a special meaning to me. You can find out what they are here.

Hipsterville: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

On one of my regular walks, I opted to head towards Hoxton, know as 'hipsterville' and one of the creative quarters of London. My route started from my base in Clerkenwell in an easterly direction

Three new buildings close to Hoxton, all wanting to be noticed.

Meandering my way there I came upon a particular grouping of astonishingly ugly new buildings. It is another example of the developer's habit of tracking the creative community, responsible for single-handedly rehabilitated often depressed neglected areas, and in doing so they are the makers of their own demise. It happened to Clerkenwell and Borough over the past two or three decades. Hoxton, in addition to its creative community, has seen Cross Rail contributing to the arrival of many estate agents there to hike up property prices and reap their profits.

And yet more added to Silicon Roundabout .

Though the inevitable escalating rents, we will once again see the departure of the very people responsible for invigorating these places by making them so appealing in the first place with their coffee shops, alternative stores, bookshops and gallery spaces.

In the heart of Hoxton all buzzing with of interest.

Amazingly I have worked in central London since 1960. Back then there was still bomb damage from WW2. I watched the many hurriedly built ubiquitous glass office blocks going up, especially surrounding St Pauls, close to where I was working at the time.

1960's office development surrounding St Paul's.

I also watched those same office blocks demolished in the 1990s. When I scan the London skyline today I am astonished how ugly it is becoming. It seems like some kind of 'mine's not only bigger than yours but a different shape', it's so depressing.

London's increasingly cluttered skyline.

Architects and their egos know no bounds, and whether you like it or not, we have to endure the sight of their handy work for many, many decades. Thank God that there are still some that have the sensitivity to understand how people want to use a building and how they need to feel inside. 

This image epitomises how modern developments oppress precious pieces of our history.

At its very best architecture can be an uplifting and emotional experience, but it can also be a harsh and alienating one. 

Paule Vézelay: Life imitating art

I was rather surprised by the remarkable similarity between Orla Kiely's 'Stem' fabric, designed in 2000.

And Paule Vézelay's 'Composure' fabric (above) designed in 1967. 

Paule Vézelay in 1984

The painter, sculptor, etcher and book illustrator Paule Vézelay was born and brought up in Bristol as Marjorie Watson-Williams. In 1911 she went to the Slade School of Fine Art but soon left finding it old hat and meaningless to her. She moved to Paris in 1926 and changed her name to Paule Vézelay, and submerged herself in abstraction. She joined the Société Abstraction-Création in 1934 and a friend of Hans Arp and his wife Sophie Taeuber-Arp, exhibiting with Arp and Wassily Kandinsky in Milan in 1938. At the outbreak of war in 1939 and to avoid internment by the Nazi's she returned to Bristol where she recorded bomb damage and barrage balloons. In the 1950s she designed textiles for a number of companies including Heal's. She continued to paint until her death in 1984.

Above Vézelay's abstract  shapes and colour combinations from the 1950's.

And in a blatant imitation I spotted these garden deckchairs in Habitat. (below)

There is a wonderful little documentary film made in1984 where Paule Vézelay is interviewed by a very non-Assie sounding Germaine Greer (Link at foot of this post). Paule comes across and fiercely independent but with grace and modesty. She maintains the artists should never marry. I think she is right about that.

A Kiely cushion.

Meanwhile, Orla Kiely has built up an empire from one simple graphic shape (often referred to as 'iconic') by applying it to just about everything she can lay her hands on.

The Paule Vézelay fabric 'Variations', designed in 1954

On the other hand, Paule Vézelay worked every single day from the 1930s to her death in 1984, not long after the documentary was made. And it was only late in her life that was she recognised in the UK. She never made her fortune but her work was her life. She never stopped.

For the documentary click HERE