A design for life, part 1

From the beginning

 

Poking around the web in search of an aesthetic lift just the other week, I was drawn to an online reel in which an affable lady was selling a ‘positivity package’, and, whilst most of her perma-tanned preamble simply flossed through my head unnoticed, something she said caused my wiggly ears to hearken.

She remarked, to paraphrase, that to find your true purpose — your path to a life filled with contentment and wonders untold — you should think back to your biggest childhood obsession (hobbies, I supposed), particularly from the ages of 7 to 14. That, she said, is where you should direct your adult focus. Well hey.

I was a boyhood car freak from early on, attending national and local Motor Shows, one of those annoying kids with carrier bags stuffed with pamphlets and goodies. I hoarded discarded car parts, hubcaps, number plates and things, in my shed.

There was always a ‘car project’ on the go, in my bedroom with brochures spread out on the floor and the pocket 1975 Observer’s Book of Automobiles to hand. I filled exercise books with facts and figures, neatly listed and illustrated. What I loved most was the arrangement of information, pages laid out with my neatest writing, carefully-copied makers’ marques and line drawings of the cars with felt pens and a ruler (and small coins for the wheels).

My best friend Paul and I collaborated on several editions of our comic, Tooth. We drew it at his bedroom desk, then stapled the pages together, an early example of self-publishing from two kids aged 10–11. The pair of us, 32 years later, would go on to self-publish a series of tour guides for the town in which we grew up… but that’s another story.

Art was my thing at school and I couldn’t get enough… until, that is, Technical Drawing appeared on the high school timetable.

Back in the early 1970s, my dad would often take me to his workplace on a Sunday morning, where I would sneak upstairs to the huge draughting office to gape in awe at the rows and rows of industrial-sized drawing boards. Now Technical Drawing class was drawing me in to take the introductory steps; the application of clean lines and precision was just what was needed to keep me out of mischief.

Diving straight in, I did far more homework than was necessary — but to what end?

Art (expression, imagination) and Technical Drawing (structure, accuracy) seemed to add up to something. I just wasn’t quite sure what yet.

 
 
 
Christopher Martin WilsonComment