A form for writing
By megan dealOctober 17th, 2007
By: Megan Deal
There has been a lot of discussion lately surrounding the issue of critical writing, and whether design students should practice their writing in a formal, edited way or through casual means like blogging or “i-chatter.” Many views have surfaced just among our own peer network, but the issue is also being discussed on a more global level. Design critic Rick Poynor suggests that design educators must write in a way that “ordinary designers” can understand, avoiding the complex academic writing that requires a post-graduate degree in literary theory to comprehend. Contrarily, designer and educator Rob Giampietro argues that design criticism must “create it’s own language,” if it is to evolve, a language not concerned with the “lowest common denominator.” The debate then, seems to center around the issue of form. Does the format or style that we choose to convey our written thoughts say anything about the meaning of our words? Do the ways in which we communicate our written ideas add value to our thoughts? Does form in writing matter?
Today in a liberal studies course, the entire class sat quietly as the prof lectured for twenty minutes about how awful most of us are at quoting lyrical poetry in our essays. He explained that the form of the poem, as it is written by the author, must be retained when we incorporate the lines into our own sentences. The formal configuration of the poem is just as relevant to the meaning as the words themselves. Thus, form is relevant to content and plays an integral part in the readers ability to develop meaning.
We analyze our design work in a similar way. By now, most of us realize that form and content work hand-in-hand in all visual communication. Empty form without content is visual distraction, communicating very little to viewers except, “look at me, I’m attractive,” or worse “designey.” Likewise, standalone content, without the appropriate visual form to house it, neglects the very foundation of VISUAL communication, and simply resides as another word processed document in the world. It is the graphic designer’s job to guide the development of form, choosing the appropriate shell for which to encapsulate the content. Choosing one form over another can profoundly alter the content, changing the intended meaning to something quite the opposite.
If we take away the form in either a work of poetry or a design, we still have meaningful content and thoughtful ideas. What this content will lack however, is that extra push that would otherwise clearly define it. The poem will still be decipherable but perhaps not quite as engaging, and the design will still be smart, but actually kind of ugly. The form of a poem is what makes poetry, well poetry, while the form of a design, is what makes communication visual.
Now, lets relate this back to this “war” of sorts surrounding the proper form that critical writing should occupy. Thoughtful ideas can emerge whether through the form of an essay or through the form of a text message. Will the form that we choose to enclose our content alter it’s meaning? Will our smart ideas and insight loose their validity if we choose the wrong form to help convey them? These are not questions with definitive answers. Only time will tell. I would suggest however, that as young designers, we carefully consider the form that we choose to embody our ideas, and recognize that form and content in writing, much like in our design work, opperate in conjunction.