word of the week – ‘pointer’ (pɔjntər).

word of the week – ‘pointer’ (pɔjntər).

By George... this looks damn familiar

I’ve just been reading a book by the celebrated US art director George Lois. Lois was not only responsible for some of the most seminal ads of the 1960s and 1970s, but his extraordinary covers for Esquire magazine are now on permanent display in New York’s MoMA. The slim volume is called ‘Damn Good Advice (for people with talent!)’, and consists of a series of illustrated lessons culled from his many years in advertising and publishing.

If you’ve read Paul Arden’s ‘Whatever You Think, Think The Opposite’ and ‘It’s Not How Good You Are, It’s How Good You Want To Be’, you’ll get the gist. It’s a collection of snappy, from-the-horse’s-mouth pointers on how to be creative. In fact, the format is remarkably similar — standard paperback size, white cover with bold black type. Inside, brutally straightforward, sometimes irreverent headlines, accompanied by a couple of paragraphs of wisdom or anecdote, and a carefully chosen image that colours or juxtaposes the point being made.

The pace is staccato and relentless. You feel you’re being hit over the head with page after page of ‘damn good advice’ — ‘Make your surroundings a metaphor for who you are’, ‘Never eat shit’, ‘A trend is always a trap’, ‘Tell the Devil’s Advocate in the room to go to hell’, ‘Speak up, goddammit!’. For full effect shout rapidly in a Noo Yoik accent.

The first few pages are fine, inspiring even. You’re thinking, right on, don’t compromise, fight the good fight, believe in yourself, stick it to the man. But as they keep coming (and coming) small seeds of doubt start creeping in. Firstly, it starts to become apparent that a lot of the ‘damn good advice’ is pretty self evident. Like ‘Don’t sleep your life away’, and ‘Don’t expect a creative idea to pop out of your computer’. You can’t argue with either, but most people will have worked this out for themselves. Unless they were sleeping, of course.

Arden fast rules... an adman’s wisdom

Secondly, if I took every leaf out of Lois’s book, I’m pretty sure my clients would run a mile. For example, he recalls a time when he stood on a window ledge and threatened to jump unless his poster idea was accepted. Or dropped the biggest book he could find on the floor when his boss was ignoring him. It’s the kind of ‘maverick’ behaviour that pervaded UK advertising in the 1980s, ‘crazy creative guys’ throwing more and more outrageous stunts to get noticed.

Of course be determined, confident and original. Of course stick up for your ideas and take inspiration from wherever you find it. And I tip my hat to Lois for his single-mindedness, chutzpah and towering achievement. But, I can’t help feeling that if there were 100s of creative people out there following this credo, we’d have mayhem on our hands. The point is, we’re all creative in different ways, and realising this is the first step on the path to originality.

‘Damn Good Advice’ is a damn good ad for George Lois, but you need to take it with a pinch of salt. Or as he might put it ‘You can't be creative if someone has to tell you how’.

new work – Royal Mail.

new work – Royal Mail.

For the second year on the trot, Jim has written the Royal Mail Year Pack. In case you didn’t know, this is the sprightly baby brother of the Royal Mail Year Book, and tells the stories behind the stamps in super-condensed form (click on the image for a closer look). For 2011, the typically eclectic subject matter included Gerry Anderson’s supermarionation series, William Morris, Musicals, Thomas the Tank Engine and the House of Hanover, all conveyed in a 100 or so words. The Year Pack was designed by our old friends Why Not Associates, and you can get your hands on a copy, which includes all the year’s stamps, here.

Jim also conjured up the introduction and design stories for the more substantial Year Book, designed with some aplomb by the super-talented Magpie Studio. He’d previously authored six entire Year Books, but this year Royal Mail decided to invite eminent subject experts to contribute individual chapters. Year Books are available from Royal Mail’s website.

your mind’s made up.

your mind’s made up.

You do judge a book by its cover shock

I know, I know... I’ve been a bit remiss about posting a regular Private View column without Lynda to badger me anymore. Pressure of work and all that. But here’s a piece on US author and journalist Malcolm Gladwell’s ‘Blink’ and the effect rapid cognition might have on our appreciation of graphic design. Look out for my next Private Blog in early December. 

Admittedly, I cottoned on Malcolm Gladwell’s ‘Blink’ rather late in the day, but the instant I saw it winking at me on the charity shop bookshelf, I’d made up my mind. To be honest, I had little inkling about its subject matter and was just taking a punt on the basis of the cover and few of the good man’s articles in the New Yorker. This, and the fact that at a princely £1.10, I had little to lose.

In case you’re unfamiliar, ‘Blink’ puts the case that first impressions are often valid. Just like mine were in the charity shop. In fact, there are many cases where your initial instincts may be more worthwhile than months of painstaking research. These, the author argues, can just muddy the waters.

Gladwell pieces together various scientific studies, interviews and news stories to make his case. He speaks to top car salesmen and eminent psychologists, military strategists, archaeologists, food tasters and the police. And his findings are weirdly fascinating — he discovers that in given situations, our unconscious minds can ‘thin slice’ exactly the information we need. Instinctively, we ditch all the clutter and extraneous stuff and get straight to the nub. It’s only when we start to analyse and weigh up the pros and cons that all the muddle and uncertainty kick in.

First of all, a word about Gladwell’s writing. On the face of it, this isn’t the sexiest of subjects. You’d stomach a 1,000-word article, perhaps, but not a whole 260-page book. And yet, he manages to make you want to dig on and get to the bottom of the conundrum. His prose is easy yet detached, always insightful, occasionally funny. He never blinds you with science or over intellectualising. Like a good TV documentary, he seems to know when to remind you of salient points and previous examples.

However, I really wanted to look at Gladwell’s ‘Blink’ theory from another angle — the context of graphic design. And to suggest that we’ve made our mind up about a piece from the split second we see it.

In the case of posters or street messages, it’s likely that your first impression is your only impression, so clearly that’s true. But even when the viewer is taking in something at leisure, it’s the very first sighting that sets the tone and colours the attitude from then on. You’re more likely to start reading an unfamiliar book from a table-top display if the cover grabs you. Or persevere with a website if the look of it pleases you (particularly when your broadband’s playing up). If someone hands you a groovy business card, you’ll probably feel better inclined towards them than the person who hands you a dull one.

Instant Wim... one look at Crouwel is enough

Superficial? Well, not according to Gladwell. Our first impressions are actually quite sophisticated. They’re built from our previous experiences, and the copious mental notes we’ve taken over the years. (They can also harbour our fears and prejudices, but that’s another story). Called into action, these sparks from our past compute and react in a snap, and most of the time they’re bang on. But when we stop to ask ourselves ‘why?’, that moment of subconscious magic disappears.

In exactly the same way, our taste is learned, but becomes second nature over time. So our first response to a piece of graphics is really quite profound. Which probably accounts for my perennial experience of design awards judging… however many times you go round the houses, you always seem to end up with the same opinion you struck in the first place.

Keef is the word.

Keef is the word.

More than a glimmer: a memory like an elephant

I confess to being a sucker for a rock biography — the excess and schadenfruede are irresistible. Every year I take one on summer holiday, and 2011 was no exception. Shunning the anticipatory delights of Michael Bracewell’s ‘Roxy: the Band That Invented An Era’, and Chris Salewicz’s ‘BobMarley: The Untold Story’, I was drawn the hottest new bio on the block. That’s right… Keith Richards’ ‘Life’.

At 600-plus pages, it’s a bit of a doorstop, but it certainly didn’t disappoint. On the back cover, Keef archly informs us “Believe it or not, I haven’t forgotten any of it”, and to be fair, he’s very sharp on the early years, though fuzzier as time wears on. The book splits roughly into three: childhood, forming the band and success; the lost, drugged-out years; settling down, family life and Rolling Stones the brand.

The writing is credited to the man himself (with James Fox), and clearly there’s a lot of transcripted material in here, because you can really hear Keef speaking. What comes across is someone who’s hugely dedicated to what he does (at times the book gets deeply technical about guitar playing), and always wears his heart on his piratical sleeve. He’s surprisingly funny, open, self-deprecating and intelligent. And although he runs out of steam at the end (and starts dishing out recipes for bangers and mash), this is right up there with the best in genre. Actually, you’d expect nothing less.

well connected.

well connected.

And another book cover. This for journalist and all-round wit Craig Brown’s ‘One on One’, a book of unlikely meetings and connections. (Terence Stamp advises Edward Heath, Frank Lloyd Wright designs a house for Marilyn Monroe, that sort of thing). Brown calls it a daisy chain of 101 true encounters, each 1001 words long. Sounds not unlike a 26 project.

Who’s zooming who?

The dust jacket is a lovely typographic doodle in black and orange, wrapped all around the book with different styles of arrow linking the various protagonists. It captures the idea of ‘six degrees of separation’ perfectly. The print appears to be letterpress (though I think it’s actually a clever simulation), so it has a lovely tactile quality and is rather beautifully done. I searched high and low but couldn’t find a design credit. Makes a change, in my line of work, it’s usually the writer who gets overlooked.

a proper Charlie Brown.

a proper Charlie Brown.

Nothing better than a sweater

This little beauty goes to prove you don’t have to be a brilliant illustrator to come up with a brilliant book cover. You just need a strong, graphic idea. Designer William Ruoto clearly knows his Peanuts, and has come up with a neat, punchy wrapper for this recent biography of evergreen cartoonist Charles M Schulz. The homage typography is carried on inside.

New work – Royal Mail.

New work – Royal Mail.

We thought we’d take this opportunity to show some spreads from the 2010 Royal Mail Yearbook — ‘The Big Picture’ — which came out back in November last year. First published in 1984, the Yearbook tells the back stories of the year’s pictorial stamps, and is always impeccably printed and produced. This edition is a beautifully considered piece of editorial design by hat-trick, which uses extreme close-up photography to reveal the unexpected about subject in hand. John Ross took the striking shots which open each section.

I wrote two essays for each chapter — one an introductory overview, to provide context and colour, the other a more focused, detailed piece which expands on illuminating particulars. So for the Classic Album Covers, there was a longer piece on Peter Saville and Factory Records; for Endangered Mammals chapter, a piece on Hedgehogs; for the House of Stuart chapter, a piece on the Restoration, and so on.














The way hat-trick handled the relationship between the slip case and the front cover was particularly interesting: the slipcase cover shows a close up of an elaborate R on a painted red post box, then when you pull out the book, there’s the same R sandblasted back to the metal. It’s a subtle visual metaphor to show the reader that all will be revealed inside. The endpapers print all the words in the book in miniature, playing on the juxtaposition of scale that continues throughout the pages. You can order your very own copy — which includes all the stamps issued in 2010 — here.

fancy seeing you here.

fancy seeing you here.

I’m pretty sure this has never happened to me before, and it’s unlikely to happen again. I’d just treated myself to a copy of new book, entitled ‘Alphabets: A Miscellany of Letters’, and was idly flicking through its handsome pages. It’s a charming, quirky compendium of applied letterforms, arranged in themed chapters — B for ‘Bestiary’, F for ‘Found’, H for ‘Hand’, J for ‘Journey’, and so on. It features games, posters, signage, packaging, furniture… in fact, virtually anything’s considered fair game so long as it references the alphabet.

And there, staring back at me on page 56, was something that looked decidedly familiar. A poster I’d worked on with the great Derek Birdsall back in 2004. You could have knocked me down with a feather (shaped like a letter f, perhaps). Our effort was based on the letter i, and featured in a exhibition at the British Library organised by 26. Originally, it was printed on a reflective surface, so that people would see their faces in the poster as they read the text, picking up of the idea of I as shorthand for identity.

Here’s what some of the text in ‘Alphabets’ says about the poster: “Birdsall is an influential book designer who, therefore, works closely with letters in his day-to-day work. Davies, a writer, has contributed works of fiction and non-fiction to a variety of publications, and his humorous interpretation of the letter’s history is characteristic of his work. The letter is given a pompous voice and lists its many uses in language and technology, drawing attention to its strong aesthetics, which make it suited to graphic art.”

After I’d recovered from the surprise, I felt pretty pleased with myself. But on reflection I thought, shouldn’t someone have at least asked first?

‘Alphabets: A Miscellany of Letters’ is published by Black Dog. You can pick it up on Amazon for £16.96.

PG tips.

PG tips.

Picked these beauties up in my local Oxfam shop last weekend. The reason I couldn’t resist them was twofold... PG Wodehouse and Penguin Classics. These are 1962 reprints, by which time Penguin had ditched the strict three-part horizontal typographic layout of their original offerings and gone vertical, incorporating simple illustrations. These sketches by Geoffrey Salter are perfect – economic yet evocative, a near match for Wodehouse’s easy, mellifluous writing. I have most of the great man’s canon in some form or other, but I’m always on the look out for more of these orange and white gems.

Horberry's trade secrets.

Horberry's trade secrets.

Fellow writer and 26 member Roger Horberry has a new book out – the rather self-explanatory ‘Brilliant Copywriting – How to Craft the Most Interesting and Effective Copy Imaginable’. Designed to give aspiring commercial wordsmiths the ammunition they need to get that first tentative toe on the ladder, it’s full of useful hints and tips on everything from editing, to ideas, to how to behave in meetings. At the back there’s a series of interviews with what he describes as ‘brilliant copywriters’ – Jim included. So for a small, but highly worthwhile investment on Amazon, you can find out about Jim’s main influences, what kind of briefs he favours, and even how he deals with occasional bout of writer’s block.

got it covered.

got it covered.

 For those of us who like to judge a book by its cover, here’s a wry-yet-chirpy blog comparing and contrasting book cover design from around the world, along with suitably pithy commentary.

What’s really intriguing is the way different styles are adopted for different markets and how covers are refreshed from one edition to the next. But the real eye-opener is how your reaction is so easily manipulated, even before you’ve read a word. You can’t underestimate how a cover sets the tone for a book, or influences your frame of mind as you start delving into the writing.

Shown here, a new Faber & Faber edition of Paul Auster’s ‘New York Trilogy’ designed by the fabulously talented Jonathan Gray (who also did the ‘Common Ground’ cover for 26). And Art Spiegelman’s cover for the Penguin Deluxe Classics Edition of the same book. Get under the covers at www.thebookdesignreview.com.

Gordon Bennett.

Gordon Bennett.

It’s been a bit of an Alan Bennett fest this week. I finally got round to watching ‘The History Boys’ on DVD and loved it, particularly the hilarious French lesson scene and the classic movie skits on ‘Now Voyager’ and ‘Brief Encounter’. I also polished off the short but very sweet ‘The Uncommon Reader’ and found the whole conceit of the Queen as a newly converted bookworm (despite staunch and virtually universal opposition by family, staff and even government), rather appealing. The sly digs at the unnamed Prime Minister about weapons of mass destruction lent this slim volume a bit of political edge, until it ends abruptly and entirely unexpectedly, with Her Maj dropping her own WMD to the gathered great and the good.

let us spray.

let us spray.

It’s great that books like this can still get published. ‘Overspray’ is an overview of the golden age of airbrush art. Focusing on four exponents in the epicentre of the genre in Seventies California, it paints a glistening picture of the environment that spawned this trashy yet technically demanding form of illustration. Even if you’re not a fan of airbrush, many of the images on these pages will be surprisingly familiar – from Levi’s ads, to Rolling Stones covers, to movie posters, to Playboy illustrations. The subject matter is wonderfully garish, super-shiny, super-suggestive, super-real. Everything seems to glint and drip – a world of high-camp high-gloss, where kinkiness and sci-fi surrealism rub shoulders. Better still, ‘Overspray’ isn’t simply eye candy – it makes a sterling attempt to contextualise and analyse the work on show, examining the influences, motives and techniques of its foremost practitioners. Oh, and I probably should declare an interest at this point. It was written and put together by my old buddy Norman Hathaway – but don’t let that put you off. You can get your hands on a copy of ‘Overspray: Riding High with the Kings of California Airbrush Art’ on Amazon.

under the Christmas tree.

under the Christmas tree.

Books, as usual, featured prominently in my clutch of goodies from Santa. Top of the pile were ‘Reasons to be Cheerful – The life and work of Barney Bubbles’; the Penguin reissue of ‘Design as Art’, by Bruno Munari; Dorling Kindersley’s ‘Art – the Definitive Visual Guide’ (a real door-stopper); and finally, a little indulgence – ‘The Clash’ by The Clash, 384 pages of archive photographs and insights into one of the mightiest bands of all time. Expect some reviews in the ‘well read’ section once these beauties have been fully digested.

breaking up.

breaking up.

Books, even of the humble paperback variety, are precious to me. I keep every book I’ve read in case I want to revisit it at any point. They are like diary entries, reminders of particular places and moments in time. For a few days, you have an intense, personal relationship with a book – something that’s worth cherishing. So it really hacks me off when a book that falls apart during the first reading – like ‘Bit of a Blur’ by Alex James did when I was halfway through it on holiday. A black mark then to publishers Abacus for such shoddy binding. Detracting from what was otherwise a truly enjoyable, and surprisingly eloquent romp through the 1990s rock ’n’ roll landscape.