When Megan and I started this, our intent was provide content that was relevant and sometimes challenging to the reader. I think we have succeeded but we also need help to grow these ideas and make the dialogue expansive. We know we aren’t the only ones out there who like to write and share ideas. Since our last Call for Entries, we had a couple of submissions that we thought were very good starts but needed some refinement. We hope to hear from those people again. Our intent is not to keep this conversation among a few of us. Rather, we want pixelgawker to be a cross section of students, faculty and designers who share the passion of design but offer different perspectives to similar issues we face in academia. We want the conversations to be constructive and pursue a greater awareness of issues brought forth. We also know writing is not easy. In the gloriously self-indulgent and design-centric Spine 2007, I compared writing to the act of taking a carrot peeler to the nostrils. It can be painful and time consuming, but with commitment, writing is one of the most satisfying activities I participate in as a designer and faculty. It’s always a struggle to begin articulating my idea but when I allow myself time to sit down and push thru ideas, I continue to grow a genuine interest in becoming a better writer.

So where am I going with this? Most of us are products of the academic cycle. As you have noticed, the number of posts have significantly dropped in the past month. They will continue to be low as summer sets in and students and faculty alike travel, work and play. Activities that will offer a balance to an otherwise crazy academic year. We have just run a 9 month marathon. We all feel a great sense of satisfaction but we are also exhausted. School is almost finished. We now have time to look back at what we have accomplished and the projects that were successful. This time also affords us the opportunity to reflect on failures and projects (for whatever reason) didn’t work out. This time of reflection is extremely important. I often say to students that failures become our best teachers. I also think that summer is extremely important to a student’s growth. We recharge our bodies and minds and come back stronger designers and better thinkers.

So, my challenge to all of our readers is simple: reflect on what you have learned, digest all the visual resources you have consumed and use this summer to write. The ideas can be short and succinct or long and verbose. Either way, we want to hear from you. Whether you are overseas or in your backyard, we look forward to your contributions.

For submissions, please email us at pixelgawker@spirit3design.com. Refer to the the earlier Call for Entries for submission details.

Yet it wasn’t too long ago that I myself cringed at the idea of using ichat, while simultaneously belittling the community of flickr users for what seemed to be their over-zealous concern with their own self-exposure. I argued that excessive use of such programs was the main reason why so many students felt that they never had enough time to finish their class projects. Along with all of our everyday responsibility, how can one expect to be productive if they’re constantly clicking from site to site, checking for “new messages,” “new comments,” and all the like?

Then, as they say, peer pressure got the best of me. I began using ichat during my internship out of neccesity. It had become the most proficient way to send files back and forth, and even a better way to provide instant feedback on hurried projects. Soon after, I opened a flickr account, signing up for “pro” status almost instantly. These days I email, I ichat, I video chat, I audio chat, I flickr, I youtube, and I del.icio.us. Amazingly, I still get my work done…and on time.

There has been mention on this blog before about the use of technology in the classroom. In an interview originating from the Schools of Thought Conference 3, (see here) Chad Reichert talks about the importance of utilizing certain technology in design education, talking especially about the community it can facilitate outside of the classroom. He talks about the ease in sharing information, the peer-to-peer exhange, and the classroom time that can be saved when students are interacting and critiquing one another outside of our designated class times. Students agree. Some say that being connected into our own little self-governed digital community is the motivation that they need in order to stay up late and put the long hours into school work. Since we don’t have 24/7 access to a studio space, using this type of technology is the only real way to keep the dialogue going outside of class, and it seems to be working effectively.

As one of the newly converted, I too would advocate the use of this technology for peer-to-peer exchange. However, I would also like to suggest that ichat et al not become our only outlet for critical discussion. Being connected all day, everyday, means that our peers get to see the various stages of our process, providing feedback in stages along the way. Though this can be valuable, by the time our work makes it to the classroom wall, what else is there to say? Herein is where I find the problem. Yes, perhaps we’re taking full advantage of the technology placed before us, but it worries me that this technology may be eliminating opportunity for useful classroom discussion. That is to say, we mustn’t forgo classroom group critique simply because we’ve already put in our two-cents via ichat the night before. Technology must be used to supplement our in-class education, but not replace it.

Classroom critique is a neccessary part of a progressive design education. Hanging our work on the wall in front of our instructors and peers is a privelage, and should be treated as such. Though instant messaging may arguably provide instant feedback, this method eliminates one of the most important components of group critique; the group itself. Certainly, an online network allows for several users to comment in tandem, but only in a real physical group situation can group members comment, and subsequently feed off of each others ideas, almost simultaneously. How many times has a comment from Student A, struck a chord in Student B, and lead to new ideas that may have otherwise never even surfaced?

Finally, and what I consider to be the most important part of group critique is the chance that it offers each individual to develop a clear way of articulating their ideas and defending their position. Yes, CCS students have been ridiculed in the past for being incapable of cohesively explaining their work. The upcoming career event will test this notion, as each of us will be required to clearly explain our concepts and forms to individuals unfamiliar with us or our projects. Group critique allows us to practice, to get in front of our class, to explain our reasoning, and more often then not to clarify ideas within our own heads. A digital critique simply cannot offer this.

I intend not to bash the use of technology as a design tool. I’m far to immersed now. But I urge us all to continue developing our classroom critique skills. Develop a voice. Speak up already!

]]> http://spirit3design.com/pixelgawker/2008/03/21/supplement-not-substitute/feed/ 5 http://spirit3design.com/pixelgawker/2008/02/26/the-rise-of-the-michigan-design-community/ http://spirit3design.com/pixelgawker/2008/02/26/the-rise-of-the-michigan-design-community/#comments Wed, 27 Feb 2008 03:51:49 +0000 chad reichert http://spirit3design.com/pixelgawker/2008/02/26/the-rise-of-the-michigan-design-community/ I’m a transplant. I was born and raised on the southside of Chicago. Until I moved to Michigan 3 years ago, I didn’t know a tremendous amount about the state. Sure, I spent time at the beaches on the “west coast,” I knew that a place like Frankenmuth scared me and Detroit was a place that I thought I would never want to visit. I now work in Detroit and call SE Michigan my home. I commute downtown every day and live in the shadow of a city struggling to rediscover itself. To outsiders, Detroit is defined by high crime, misery (see Forbes) and a sinking automotive industry. To those same outsiders, Michigan is characterized by foreclosures and the mass exodus of unemployed individuals. Unfortunately, I have learned that most of these are accurate assessments. What I have also learned is that many of these characterizations can be applied to other states throughout the country. The difference is Michigan has done a better job of mismanaging their economy and a poor job of diversification.

Is there a silver lining in this otherwise cloudy state? Yes. What often gets overlooked is design and the role it has played in defining who we are as a state. Michigan has a robust history woven into the fabric of it’s existence. We are a state defined by design and innovation: Henry Ford and the assembly line, Cranbrook and the roots of graphic design post-modernism, Hermen Miller and furniture design, just to name a few. Although Hermen Miller continues to be a bright spot in an otherwise gloomy economy, Michigan is in a rut. Does innovation exist anymore? Many prominent firms are downsizing due to a reliance on the antiquated automotive industry. Agencies are outsourcing work to the east and west coast because they are want “cutting edge” solutions. Yet, we have extremely talented students graduating from some great local programs and entering a market that is not quite sure how to handle them. We also have a strong core of studios bleeding talent and expertise. What is it that’s keeps us from reaching new levels of innovation? Are we dwarves standing on the shoulders of giants unable to cast a new vision for ourselves? Why can’t we look beyond what we currently have and capitalize on our potential. Having just finished a book entitled “Good to Great,” the author Jim Collins states “Greatness is not a function of circumstance. Greatness, it turns out, is largely a matter of conscious choice.” I realized after reading this passage that although he was talking about companies this philosophy could easily apply to a town, city or state. It definitely can apply to Michigan in general and Detroit in particular.

So my premise for this article is this: what can we do as students, educators and professional designers to contribute to the rise of the Michigan design economy and make design a powerful tool for economic transformation? How do we get people to stop and notice that Michigan design is still relevant and powerful? No, it’s not naive to think that our design community can instigate change, but I do believe that it will take the effort of many and the vision of a few for us to make our collective design voice heard.

The next question needing to be addressed is how do we get there? It would be an impossible task for me to tackle such a large topic in one small article. If I have one piece of advice to give, it would be to create opportunities. Let me explain. Like death and taxes, paying off student loans is inevitable. As higher education costs continue to escalate, students have to maintain one, two and sometimes three jobs to avoid a devastating amount of debt. Unlike other countries who recognize the value and the strategic future of design, the United States has not historically embraced it. Having traveled to the Netherlands the past couple of summers, it’s both inspiring and frustrating to hear that government grants are readily available for recent grads to pursue their work and develop their skills without the pressure of having to get a “regular” job. The benefit is two-fold: students are able to pursue jobs that wouldn’t normally pay the bills but challenges them as designers and allows them to develop a critical voice. In most cases they are also able to build a base of clients that sustain them after their government funding has dried up. Second, the government has invested in the students future. In return, the students stay and the government benefits from their expertise and money that is injected back into the economy. We don’t have the same options here, so we have to make opportunities. I encourage designers to seek out collaborations with like-minded designers and artists. Strength is in numbers. Looking to classmates who share similar ideologies and seeking out relationships with artists and designers that share a geographic proximity will not only be a practical networking tool but will motivate us to greater things. It’s not always easy to work a full day and then come home to begin working on other projects. But with motivation and a group of colleagues pushing you towards a similar goal, side projects sometimes considered cumbersome can quickly turn into inspiring initiatives that fund themselves and present new career options.

Another strategy is to start projects that benefit other individuals and/or organizations. Whether it’s donating your design fees to a local non-for-profit or creating your own projects with proceeds benefiting a worthy cause; design can become an ambassador for goodwill. It can also educate a general public that generally lacks a sophisticated design palette. It is not my intent to bash the non-design population, but it is a fact that design can be seen as an elitist activity that the public generally does not understand. This is our problem to fix. The more exposure we can generate the greater level of public design literacy we can achieve.

And finally and most importantly, we need to promote our design community. Even though it’s not a design organization, GLUE (Great Lakes Urban Exchange) is a great model for us to follow. It was founded by two twenty-something Great Lakes residents, as a multi-media documentary, networking, and creative research effort to encapsulate day-to-day experiences in “declining” post-industrial cities and answer the question: what’s right and what’s wrong about my post-industrial city? What would happen if we applied this model to our design community. We need to tell our stories but lack the effective mechanisms to do so. We need less pessimism, more optimism and people to step forward and make change. When expectations are low, impact can be high. Whether large or small, if we collectively work together we can begin to shift the design paradigm.

Recently, I spent a solid half hour in the school cafeteria, chatting away with another student. We were table mates by default really, she approaching me and my unoccupied seats in a desperate attempt to find for herself a place to land and enjoy her lunch. I introduced myself, she did the same, and we proceeded to talk about a variety of topics ranging from Detroit to the over-priced sandwiches offered in the cafe. As we casually spoke to one another, I remember thinking to myself, “Wow…how nice; how exciting to be interacting with a student from another discipline.” Then, as we both described the structures of our respected curriculums, along with the type of classes that we each take, something happened. This girl, this seemingly pleasant girl, looked me dead in the eye and said: “You see, the thing I don’t get about graphic design is that you’ll do anything to make money…it’s like you sell yourselves out.”

I’m not certain, but I would venture to guess that my mouth dropped wide open, and hung in that position for several unnoticed minutes. I couldn’t believe it! Why would someone say such a thing? Where would one get such an exaggerated idea? Not wanting to cause a scene nor let the ignorance of my “new friend” upset me, I made a stupid joke, (something about designers as prostitutes) hastily finished my lunch, and removed myself from the table.

Since this amusing little episode, I’ve spent a good deal of time dwelling over this girl’s comment. I have begun to realize that this wasn’t an insult from a malicious or arrogant student, but rather an insult from the uninformed. If she, an art student herself, hasn’t the faintest ideas what a graphic designer does, what does the rest of the world think? I certainly know what the majority of people in my world think: My dentist thinks that I design buildings, my next door neighbor is certain that I design cars, and even my own mother brags to her friends that I make “billboards and stuff.” If design surrounds us, if it truly is everywhere, then why do so few people seem to have an understanding of what it is?

I am less concerned with how the design profession has gotten itself into this predicament, (perhaps I or another interested party will explore that bit of history in another post) and much more interested in how we may be able to change the skewed view of design that many hold. Truth be told, there exists no miniature pocket pamphlet that describes for the general public, in 100 words or less, “What is Graphic Design.” In fact, if such a leaflet did exist, it would be very difficult to sum up the broad, and continually evolving field into a concise and decipherable paragraph. And how on earth, might we be able to present a comprehensive definition of design to the general public, if designers themselves cannot even agree. Conflicting ideas constantly surface among design students and practitioners, sparking sometimes heated debates on almost every thinkable design issue. One only has to look as far as the next up and coming blog to see the plethora of differing viewpoints on a variety of different topics. Indeed there seems to be very few common agreements found within the growing design discourse. Yet, I would defend the wide range of viewpoints, the countless number of diverse voices, and the continual questions designers like to throw at one another. Design discourse must uphold this critical nature if design is to continue shifting and adapting within the existing culture. Disagreement simply comes with the territory.

This, of course, still leaves the problem of defining ourselves to the non-designing public. With the birth and growth of DIY culture (see PERSPECTIVE magazine) everyone can be a “designer” these days. Its plausible to think that someone may design their own logo, stick it on all of their collateral and presume that professional graphic designers do the same thing. Anyone with a design background or knowledge of the profession and its history knows well enough that design has just as much to do with the “why” behind the creation of things as it has to do with the creation of the thing itself. Yet to the general public, this question of “why” along with all of the research and thought that forms the basis of our design decisions, gets overlooked. And really, when you think about it, how could it not? One cannot physically SEE the creative process develop, but they can see the logo you’ve made for them, which was really all they asked for in the first place. The focus rests on the tangible; the logo, book, website, poster, or billboard that you’ve created. The creative process, the inherent part of design that we politely ask our clients and teachers to trust that we’re doing, matters only to the design creator, not the design consumer. Perhaps here lies where things must change. If designers themselves, begin to describe their work in terms of the “why,” the “how,” and the “because of,” moving deeper then just a physical result, then perhaps designers and non-designers alike can head towards a direction of common understanding. Though designers may not all agree on issues of sustainability, or have identical methods in client relations, or use the same typefaces, the one thing that we all share is a common understanding and respect of the creative process. We must move away from defining our profession by the things we make, and instead focus on the significant ways we get there.

The above quote is from Denis Leary, one of the great comedians of my generation turned network tv darling. It’s from about 1994, when my generation was embracing 70’s cool. Bellbottoms. I wore them, in 1994 they were available for two dollars at Value Village and they were “sweet.”

When I was in high school in the mid 90’s, and for a little while after that when I spent time with the hippies of the Ypsi/Ann Arbor area, our music, our look, and our um, “recreational activities” were straight out of the 60’s and 70’s. Jam bands. Think Rusted Root and Blues Traveller. Ugh.

I was born in 1976, which means I lived through Pretty in Pink on beta, Flock of Seagulls, and multicolored “jams” (look it up). Imagine my horror when I first saw high-waisted pants on women in the past year. They’re called Mom Jeans, nothing else. I recently heard someone poorly imitating my Talking Heads on the radio and felt, well, just dirty.

I programmed my TRS-80 Home Computer to flash random colors and sounds using Basic, and I nearly passed out blowing into my game cartridges when Duck Hunt would not mount on my original Nintendo system. I remember what that looked like, and now I see this aesthetic emerging in some recent design.

We are all guilty of Retro, but we do not realize how much Retro actually dates us. I believe there is a very distinct Retro Ratio. It seems popular culture works on about a 25 year cycle, and we seem to want to imitate the styles of about 5 years before our birth. Think about it, do the math, and mark my words: 8 Ball jackets will be seen in our own halls of CCS within a few years.

If this Retro Ratio is applied, the age and influence of a designer, musician, or otherwise purveyor of culture can easily be figured out, and what one may think of as a tricky attempt to cop and apply an older style only reveals the imitation of a current trend.

Going Retro is not a way around blindly following a trend. Be original, let the process guide the design, and please get rid of the puffy high-tops.

If I ever see this again, I quit.

At some point during our elementary years, between sessions of cursive writing, and bouts of long division, we learned the proper way to structure a sentence. In the following years, we practiced and practiced, until our poor little minds were unconsciously identifying adjectives and composing compound sentences. Then, in our high school careers we were taught the best way to structure sentences into paragraphs, and then subsequently paragraphs into essays. We learned various rhetorical and stylistic devices that aided us in this process, until we were able to develop clear ideas into syntagmatically coherent sentences. Again, we practiced. Practice perfected.

It would seem, that at some point between the years of lunchtime recess and student loans, we’ve fallen out of practice. Our focus has shifted from basic English to HTML, we pay more attention to the space in between words then the actual words themselves, and our explanations and solutions to every problem that we encounter have become widely image driven. I don’t present this favor of image over words to be a negative convention by any means. After all, it is only expected that we as design students should learn how to effectively communicate through visuals. While there’s no denying the importance of visual narrative in our multi-media society, I would suggest that we be cautious in communicating solely through image, and recognize the expressive quality that words still possess. If we are to better understand graphic design, we must become active participants in more ways then just producing visual “things” to bombard our already visually cluttered world. It is necessary to consider the role of critical writing in our design development process, and realize it’s significant function, as a valuable outlet for posing questions to ourselves and to others. If a new breed of design writing is to form, it must start with students, and we, being these students, must respond to this outcry for new voices by incorporating critical writing into our everyday design practice.

WHY the lack of new voices?

We as students, are entering the design field at a time when graphic design criticism is still a relatively young discipline.1 With only a handful of practitioners supplying the main thread of discourse, the lack of new critical voice is becoming increasingly apparent. Still, several existing texts seem only capable of finding fault in this issue, failing to offer any real reasoning as to why new voices in the discourse are not emerging. Further, the existing criticism lacks any valuable advice for young writers on how to incorporate thoughtful design writing into our expanding practices.

In Looking Closer 5, the editors claim that the emergence of new writers is dependent upon the “curricula provided in our schools and universites,” as these institutions continue to encourage “critical modes of discourse.” 2 This assertion presents an immense amount of responsibility towards our design education programs, which in many cases, seem to already be cramming as much as possible into a four year curriculum. For many students, this span of time is acceptable for developing formal skills but simply not enough time to establish a critical practice. With each individual progressing at a different rate and possessing various degrees of capability, it would seem quite onerous to include this advanced level of education into an undergraduate program of study.

On the other hand, Ellen Lupton, who directs the Graphic Design Graduate Program at MICA, encourages casual writing as a “tool,” much like sketching, diagraming, and any other form of conceptulization.3 In her design program, Lupton encourages critical wrting but does not force the exercise upon students. It becomes the student’s choice, based upon their individual level of interest, as to how involved with writing they become. Though I would imagine that many students at the graduate level would be more apt to develop a critical writing practice, I’m inclined to believe that if such an activity is deemed “extra-curricular,” left at the student’s own will, time simply won’t allow for sufficient practice, regardless of interest.

If it is the responsibility of the institution to force it’s students into critical practice, yet design discourse stills lacks a new class of voices, it seems appropriate to place the blame on design education. However, if it is up to the student’s themselves whether or not they develop a critical voice, then perhaps we as students are simply to lazy or just plain illiterate to take on a critical standpoint. The topic is endlessly debated and yet new voices still go unheard.

I would suggest that design educators must ENCOURAGE the use of writing as a means of conceptual and expressive development but ultimately the responsibility of developing a crtical voice, lies within the design student herself.4

So then…what’s the hold up?

If it is up to the student to develop a critical perspective, and to write in a way so as to shed light on history, theory and practice, what then is suppressing our efforts? I’d suggest that a portion of our hesitence is due in part to the sustained thinking that writing of this kind requires. The writer is forced to sort through their own internal collection of knowledge and experience in order to thoroughly convey an idea. But lets face it – most of us as students, are young and dumb and lack the life experiences and comprehension that can only develop with time.

I presume, however, that the main cause of disinterest towards writing is that student’s are simply out of practice, and therefore fear failure. It is crucial to note that “failed” exercises are often worth as much as their successful counterparts, as they allow the individual to reassess the path of research, leading one to discover the point at which a wrong turn was made. It is unnecessary to philosophically explain the nature of design on our first attempts. (All will come with practice) First, focus must be directed towards thouroughly expressing our ideas through words. Only with time and practice will our formal skills develop. Writing is a process of “trial and error and continuous negotiation,” that can only be properly explored by doing it yourself. 5

We, as students, have been given the responsibility to continue the discourse on design. We must approach writing from the same angle that we approach all of our design problems: adapting our creative process and allowing it to guide our modes of exploration. If we allow ourselves to dabble with words with the same zest we employ towards image, we can shift the cycle of design writers, and uphold our responsibility to the practice.

1. Poyner, Rick. “The Time for Being Against.” Looking Closer Four: Critical Writings on Graphic Design. Ed. Bierut, Drenttel, Heller. New York: Allworth Press, 2002. 122.

2. Bierut, Michael, and William Drenttel, and Steven Heller. Foreword. Looking Closer Five: Critical Writings on Graphic Design. New York: Allworth Press, 2006. vii-viii.

3. Lupton, Ellen. “Designer as Producer.” From “The Education of a Graphic Designer.” Ed. Steven Heller. New York: Allworth Press, 1998. 159-162. (Accessed 30 August 2007),

4. Wild, Lorraine. “That was Then, and This is Now: But What is Next?.” Looking Closer Four: Critical Writings on Graphic Design. Ed. Bierut, Drenttel, Heller. New York: Allworth Press, 2002. 147.

5. Poyner, Rick. “The Time for Being Against.” Looking Closer Four: Critical Writings on Graphic Design. Ed. Bierut, Drenttel, Heller. New York: Allworth Press, 2002. 127.