I know that this iconic typeface, designed by Berthold Wolpe, is worshipped by many as being beautiful, balanced and full of character, but I have always hated it. Let me explain. One of my very first jobs was in a small commercial art studio in Ludgate Hill, just spitting distance from St Paul’s Cathedral. This would have been around 1963. I’d worked in one other studio before that, where I cleaned paint pots, made coffee, ran messages and generally played the fool. But at this other place - which went under the name of Chevron Studio - I was an ‘assistant’ to a proper designer. His name was Mr Smith and he wore a three-piece tweed suit complete with tie. He rarely wavered from this, save for the occasional knitted jumper. He brought his daily lunch in a Tupperware box and always stayed in. In between teaching me the ropes, like hand lettering, brush ruling, paste-up and retouching he would occasionally unleash me on a bit of design.
This issue of Boy’s Own Paper has a bit of my hand lettering at the foot.
This was at a stage when I had discovered a copy of Josef Müller-Brockmann’s, The Graphic Artist and His Design Problems at evening class and had fallen in love with it. Mr Smith was far removed from the world of Brockmann and I began to realise that he didn’t even really like his job, as he rarely seemed to smile or make jokes. He was in effect a rather tragic lonely man even though he had been married for forty-odd years. He would sometimes tell me how he had longed to travel but his wife never wanted to. He admitted that she had held him back. But it was all too late now. Thinking back he would have been around sixty or so, and seemed like a fossil from another era. Anyway back to Albertus. Mr Smith positively worshipped the face and used it often. Far too often for me.
This is the kind of thing that Mr Smith aspired to, via his relently enthusiasm and use, I learned to loathe it.
I on the other hand had fallen in love with a new Letraset transfer typeface called Standard Medium (actually Akzidenz) and was desperate to show off my clean modernist approach, courtesy of my bedtime reading.
The book that changed everything for me.
Well, Mr Smith went away for a long weekend. The telephone rang, it was a publishing client with an urgent book jacket. I remember the title to this day, Luther’s Meditation on the Bible. They needed a design fast. ‘Yes, no problem’, I heard myself saying. Over that weekend at the kitchen table, I slaved lovingly over my creation – an all-lowercase range left piece of typography set at a jaunty 45-degree angle. Surely this would attract attention and just sell itself? Monday came and I hand delivered my masterpiece to the publisher. On Tuesday Mr Smith returned. There was a letter from the publisher with my jacket design attached. Mr Smith had to down a cup of tea before addressing me. ‘They’re not happy with this I’m afraid. ‘I suggest we run the type horizontally and I think Albertus caps will work perfectly. It wasn’t long after that I left Mr Smith for pastures new. I have never used Albertus since.
This week’s episode is with Mike Dempsey - he’s been a practising graphic designer since 1964. From the late sixties, he worked as an Art Director for two leading British publishing houses. In 1979, he founded the design consultancy Carroll & Dempsey, which later became CDT Design Ltd. His work has earned him many awards, and in 2012, he was presented with a unique Black Pencil for the most-awarded designer in D&AD’s 50-year history. To listen, click HERE
The touching and strange story of the eminent English poet Edmund Blunden and his love affair in Japan with teacher Aki Hayashi in the 1930s is as much about the fusion of English and Japanese culture as their passion for each other. I have a soft spot for this cover I designed 35 years ago for this tender little story. It was published in 1988 by Macmillan Press.
That’s me above, and this post is unashamedly about me and how I got into what has become a lifelong affair with graphic design – something that has never diminished but grown. Now heading towards my 80s (I still think I’m 34) and having lived through monumental changes in the creative world (from the old analogue days to the hyper technology of today and everything in-between), I am posting a recorded interview from RDInsight, a podcast series I conceived in 2006 and still going strong. I interview those who have received the accolade Royal Designer for Industry (RDI), which is a UK honour awarded by the Royal Society of Arts to exceptional designers across all disciplines for their creative contributions to society. There are over 60 interviews. But for the 60th one, the tables were turned and I became the interviewee. So at the end of 2022, I got to talk about my life and work. I’m now relieved to be back in charge of the microphone again.
To hear the recording, you’ll find the link at the foot, just click the bar, where you’ll find me recounting my own ‘graphic journey’.
But before that, here is a little of my work for clients English National Opera (ENO) and the London Chamber Orchestra (LCO) – two projects from the 1990s I dearly loved being involved with. Here is some of that work.
To all who have dropped by over the past twelve months. May your year ahead be happy and healthy.
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.
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.
You know those odd coincidences when you’re writing or typing and are thinking of just the right word and, as if by magic, that word is simultaneously mouthed by someone on the radio, just as it appeared in your head? Or perhaps a film, painting or book comes to mind and two minutes later it turns up in a magazine or while flicking through a book? Over the years, it has happened to me at an alarming rate – some two or three times a day. I have always felt rather blessed by this personal phenomenon, as it has proved so useful on many occasions.
Last year, I noticed a Facebook post for an exhibition of the illustrator Brian Sanders, in particular his work on Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. I thought “hmmm, I must remember that”. Then it went completely out of my mind. Next day, I am taking a walk in my neighbourhood and I stumble on a small gallery I hadn’t noticed before, called the Lever Gallery. I looked in the window and what should I see but the Brian Sanders show I’d noticed on Facebook. It was fortuitous because not only did I see the show, and very good it was too, but I also met the gallery director, Didier Madoc-Jones. During a conversation about the exhibition, I told him that I recalled other illustrators working on 2001: A Space Odyssey at the company I worked at back in the 1960s. He then took me into the gallery’s storeroom to show me the wonderful collection of illustrators’ work from that period.
Original artwork by Gianluigi Coppola.
Original artwork for 'Wages of Fear by Pino Dell'Orco
Original artwork by Renato Renato Frattini.
Original artwork by Michael Johnson.
I felt that same tingle of excitement at seeing them again. A few days later, I met with Didier Madoc-Jones again to discuss his plans for the gallery and to unload my memories from that very special period of British creativity. Over the following week, I agreed to support the gallery and act as an advisor. I had personal knowledge of the period and people and was happy to pass it on for a good cause. A few months on from that first meeting, I have redesigned the gallery’s identity and styled the print material.
New logotype for the gallery.
Poster for the new exhibition at the Lever Gallery featuring an illustration by Michael Johnson from 1963.
The first iteration of this brings me to a new show at the Lever Gallery: ‘Uncovered: Illustrating the Sixties and Seventies’ is a mixed show featuring a small group of illustrators, including the outstanding Michael Johnson and Renato Frattini. For me, Johnson was the British illustrator of the early 1960s. He, Frattini and others in this show were represented by Bryan Colmer & Partners, where my job was to take the illustrations commissioned for book jackets or paperback covers and design the typography. Very few publishers had art directors back then, so they needed someone to do this seemingly mundane job. It involved copious amounts of Letraseting and, in my case, being a bit geeky, buying copies of Twen magazine in order to cut out the blocks of its headline typeface, Schmalfette Grotesk, unavailable in the UK at that time (As it happens the very same typeface I have used on the 'Uncovered' poster above) . But this early submersion in typography stood me in good stead, as it was to become a lifelong passion. As a wet-behind-the-ears 20-something, I was in awe of these super-talented and rather glamorous illustrators. I remember going to some kind of publishing function at the Royal Garden Hotel, at which Renato Frattini was staying and had a large suite. Nervous, shy and way out of my depth, I kept drinking every glass of wine offered to me by the passing waiters until I passed out, waking up in the early hours on a sofa in Frattini’s suite; apparently, I’d been carried there out of harm’s way. Such was my youth.
So, this delightful new show has vividly transported me back to those heady analogue days, in full glorious colour, rifling through those wonderful illustrations, created over half a century ago.
The exhibition ‘Uncovered: Illustrating the Sixties and Seventies’ runs from 1st February to 24th March 2018
Lever Gallery, 153-157 Goswell Road, London, EC1V 7HD
Recent Comments