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.

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.

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.

I’ve come to realize that this blog may be contradicting itself. If it’s ultimate goal is to examine the issues that are emerging from within the exchange of student dialogue, then perhaps this blog should allow an opportunity for more students to instigate conversation. Up until this point, a singe voice has dictated the topics of discussion. If more critical voices are to emerge, then this venue must give all students equal opportunity to test out their ideas and stimulate thoughtful debate.

With this, I would like to wholeheartedly encourage other students to develop their critical voice through this blog. Collectively, this multitude of viewpoints, will document the ideas coming from within our design institution at this point in time. It is my hopes that other students around the globe will eventually join in the conversation. What I hope to develop is an honest account of graphic design, as viewed by today’s student generation. Perhaps this examination of graphic design now will allow student’s themselves, to figure out where we’re going next.

If you are interested in contributing an essay to this blog and/or further publications, please email your documents to mdeal@ccscad.edu, for prompt posting, or further questions.

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.