A design for life, part 2
The bits that followed
One evening in the autumn of 1980, my dad brought home something that flipped my mind — a Letraset catalogue full of alphabets in different styles, with exotic-sounding names like ‘Pump Triline’ and ‘Magnificat’. What exciting new world was this?
Beyond the pages of typefaces and symbols, at the back of the catalogue, lay photographs of a pristine studio in some faraway European capital, where white-shirted designers with manicured hands and minty breath ‘burnished’ transfers or ‘laid down’ a marker wash. Maybe I could do that too?
I had been unaware until then that everything — books, crisp packets, magazines, logos — had been designed by someone. But of course they had — this was Graphic Design! Commercial Art! The Glamour!
As my days at school were coming to an end, a lot of time was spent just painting imaginary landscapes, practising hand-lettering, and drawing cartoons to please myself.
A pile of artwork was amassed and, by the summer of 1983, it was high time to present it to whoever might show an interest. With the kind help of a distant relative, Roland (a graphic designer himself) and his recommendations of design companies in the city, I set about writing letters.
The first to respond, the highly respected Design Group, requested an informal chat over coffee — and to bring the portfolio. Terrified at first, I left that meeting in full-time occupation, exactly where I wanted to be.
The point of pride here was to be guided by professionals from the outset, learning fast through working to tight deadlines. This, along with much ‘in at the deep end’ practice and self-imposed homework, smoothed out most of the rough edges. I made a squillion mistakes and had to adapt to working more quickly, but what an intense, satisfying environment in which to learn.
The managing director of Design Group, a brilliant man called Sandy Weir, told me to “never lower your standards” — the most profound piece of work advice I ever received.
So, from the days of scalpels, Letraset and bromides through desktop publishing, the early web, and today’s digital tools, technologies change, but the fundamentals remain the same: clarity of thought and careful application.
Simply: design that works for the people who use it.
Return to A design for life, part 1 >
Footnote: The Letraset scenario described above of a staged, spotless Euro-studio with the obligatory indoor plants and fresh coffee gurgling away is not quite how it was.
Ask any graphic artist who — in the dim days pre-Apple Mac — was forced to graft in a noxious SprayMount-sticky studio with full ashtrays, creative team hangovers, and the regular slicing-off of fingertips with a sharp blade at the cutting mat.
Nowadays the Mac is the tool of choice for most design purposes, and the workplace provides a safer, cleaner and more efficient setting. Back then, however, things were rather more chaotic.