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03.07.08 The world’s first museum of graphic design
Most people when quizzed about the Dutch will reel off clichés about clogs, cheese, carrots and/or the colour orange and easily available drugs. Soccer-jocks will eulogise about ‘that volley’ by Van Basten, or more recently Sneijder.
But mention Holland to graphic designers and they go a little dewy eyed. They’ll know that a tiny nation, about 5% of the population of the USA, has had an entirely disproportionate influence on their business.
From Piet Zwart and Willem Sandberg to Ootje Oxenaar and Wim Crouwel, from KesselsKramer and Irma Boom to Experimental Jetset and Mevis en Van Deursen; that’s nearly a hundred years of groundbreaking design in one sentence. Their émigrés such as Rudy Vanderlans pushed pixel-based design under the noses of American designers and Gert Dumbar’s two stints at the RCA have influenced generations here in London.
Most of us are guilty of simply piecing together transatlantic design trends, with the occasional nod to Japan, but forget the Dutch and you miss a significant part of the jigsaw. Spend any time in Amsterdam and you’ll admire one of the few city identities that actually works (courtesy of Thonik) and you’ll visit one of the world’s finest design bookshops (Nijhof and Lee).
Much has been made of the relationship of Dutch designers with their clients - someone to collaborate with them in their search for new ideas, not someone to tell them what to do, when, and which colour to use. Many London companies do government work of a dubious, committee-crushed standard, but the Dutch government’s sponsorship and encouragement of their designers is legendary. Max Bruinsma once saw this as a “combination of analytical professionalism and artistic freedom, that has led to a nickname for Dutch graphic design: ‘official anarchy’”.
Not content with their position of ‘most admired official anarchists’, the Dutch have pulled another fast one on us by opening a Museum of Graphic Design. The little town of Breda, previously known for a castle, a church and the birthplace of Elvis’s manager (Colonel Tom Parker) rolled out the PMS 485 carpet for Queen Beatrix on 11th June. The museum says it’s mission ‘is to gather, manage and maintain information and knowledge about the history of the graphic design profession. This knowledge will be passed on in an accessible and comprehensible way to the young, to young adults, to the general public interested in culture and to professionals’. So there. 
‘The world’s first museum of graphic design’ has a great ring to it. I’d love the world’s second to open in London but that would take some doing, persuading and financing. After all, London has its Design Museum, and the V&A bills itself as ‘the world’s greatest museum of art and design’.
We all know, of course, that graphic design is just a constituent part of these institutions, not the lead story. Yes, the Design Museum has featured exhibitions by Fletcher and Barnbrook over the last few years, but under its new regime you suspect a move back to edges, form and 3d.
The only recent significant UK exhibition of graphics was Rick Poynor’s Communicate at the Barbican, in 2004. Rewind, at the V&A (2002/3), was by definition a cross-discipline show, and before that you have to go back to The Power of the Poster in 1998. One of my greatest revelations, whilst assisting with the curation of the latter, was touring the V&A’s vast and very private poster archive. Lautrec’s, Mucha’s, Cassandre’s – they’re all there, some the size of a wall, most never to be seen. Every year or two I strike up an informal conversation with the museum about ‘finding a gallery for all those posters?’ and the response is always the same – ‘have you got the £1,000,000 to pay for it?’. Er, not currently, no.
But is London that badly off? US designers were recently debating on Design Observer the Art Institute of Chicago’s Graphic Thought Facility show. Alice Twemlow’s view that the Institute chose ‘the equivalent of an indie movie’ whose ‘distinctly unostentatious work, is relatively unknown in the US design community’ is revealing, as is Michael Bierut’s comment that he would ‘love to see a graphic design blockbuster.. ...at a US museum sometime in my lifetime, but I’m not holding my breath’.
Tokyo, of course, has long been the leader of the pack, with two galleries dedicated to the graphic arts (the GGG gallery and the Creation Gallery) in Ginza. But these feature temporary exhibitions only, not permanent. So the Dutch have even stolen a march on the Japanese.
Perhaps Breda, located in the south of the country, is a bit of an obscure location? But if the French town of Chaumont can ring-fence the art of poster design for their annual festival, then Breda could well become the museological epicentre of graphic design, just by being first. 

This is an adaptation of a recent article for Design Week magazine by Michael Johnson
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30.06.08 About Paula
I met Paula when I was fifteen. She won’t remember it, she wouldn’t have visited the record shop in my depressing midlands town very often. If she had, she might have asked why I wasn’t admiring Malcolm Garrett’s Buzzcocks sleeves or Jamie Reid’s Sex Pistols-inspired situationism. Well, I sort of was, but I couldn’t take my eyes off a fantastic poster for a series of jazz re-issues – a fabulous mish-mash of big blocky type arranged at 45 degree angles that had me begging (in vain) for a copy of the poster once surplus to requirements. 
I had no absolutely no idea who had designed it. That wasn’t really an issue, yet.
At college I remember admiring a series of retro layouts in the library’s fiercely guarded collection of Graphis magazines that looked kind of old, kind of ugly, but kind of cool. They made my dense design history course more palatable – it’s fine learning about Tschichold but here was someone tripping out on all that stuff. I had no idea who’d designed them. That wasn’t really an issue, not yet.
After college I fell into a slightly sterile world of corporate design where every scheme seemed to be grey and yellow, or yellow and grey. Or maybe tints of grey (with a bit of yellow). And then I saw her öola scheme, all De Stijl colours, bonkers type and, well, fun. I read later that she’d shown them two logos; they liked both, so they used them both. Brilliant. (And no grey in sight).

I began to realise it was the same person designing this great stuff that I kept mentally bookmarking, the same person mixing and mashing up millions of typefaces, colours and styles without any hang-ups about what she should and shouldn’t do. A person happy to put two fingers up to the next ‘big thing’ (all that po-faced deconstructivist Baudrillard-bold, Foucault-filtered stuff).
I was officially a fan. As I struggled to build johnson banks, she’d joined the dream team at Pentagram New York and unveiled scorching schemes for The Public Theater and Ballet Tech. By the mid-nineties we’d met - it wasn’t a disappointment. She seems to have her own personal scriptwriter permanently employed in her head to supply judicious one-liners and killer put-downs, a little like graphic design’s equivalent of Joan Rivers.


More recently she’s found a new outlet for any frustrations of her corporate life – massive, dense, type covered paintings that depict everything from ironic state-by-state statistics on ‘their use of Helvetica’ to the imagined prevalence of drug traffickers in Panama. I’m hoping that one day she’ll give me one, but I fear I’ll wait in line behind the major museums. 
If you can find it, get a copy of her book Make it Bigger – a fantastic record of her life’s work and a great read at the same time, a sort of proto-Chip Kidd with less book covers, if you like. I re-read it often because a) it’s funny and insightful, b) in stressful times it reminds me it IS possible to do great work and enjoy yourself and c) every now and again you can’t go wrong with a bit of huge type.


Her work still has the same effect that poster did thirty years ago – you want to pull it off the wall, roll it up, take it home, make it yours. There aren’t many designers whose work you can say that about. 
Paula Scher, photographed by Branson Veal, 2007
This is an adaptation of an article by Michael Johnson in this month’s Grafik magazine, part of their ‘heroines’ series.
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25.06.08 Debriefing on Interesting 2008
There’s been quite a bit of bloggage this week about last weekend’s Interesting 2008 conference. It’s originator, Russell Davies, has given a quick run-down of links and thoughts here. Wil Freeborn has published his drawings here.
The boys at Thoughful came down from Manchester and have jotted down their thoughts here. And if you’re feeling brave you can watch the quicktime they took of the last 80% of Michael Johnson’s speech on Guitars and Graphics, lo-res here, high res here or read the less interactive version here).
Above images by Tim_D from his flickr page. There are general flickr images of the day here.
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24.06.08 A typeface for UNICEF
Johnson banks’ creative director Michael Johnson has just contributed to an interesting project initiated by James West at Create/Reject, who asked 50 designers to name their current favourite typeface(s). 
Here are some other designer’s choices.
The book only costs £3, and all the proceeds go to UNICEF’s Burma Cyclone Children’s Appeal.
There’s more information, and purchase details here and here. It sold 200 copies on just its first day of release, so you may need to get a move on... The full list of contributors was: 2x4, Adam Hayes, Alan Dye (NB: Studio), Alexandre Bettler, Angus Hyland (Pentagram), Antoine+Manuel, Ben Freeman, Ben Parker (MadeThought), Bibliothèque, Cartlidge Levene, Claire Warner (Browns), Domenic Lippa (Pentagram), Daniel Eatock, Daniel Lock (NB: Studio), eBoy, Eike König (HORT), Experimental Jetset, Farrow, Fernando Gutiérrez, Fuel, Hector Pottie (Third Eye Design), Henrik Kubel (A2/SW/HK), Hi-ReS!, Hyperkit, James Goggin (Practise), James Greenfield (BB/Saunders), Jeremy Leslie (John Brown), Jerome Rigaud (Electronest), Jessica Helfand (Winterhouse), Jon Dowling (SEA Design), Jon Forss (Non-Format), Julian Morey (abc-xyz), Lionel Hatch (The Chase), Matt Simpson (Stereo), Michael C. Place (Build), Michael Johnson (Johnson Banks), Mogollon, Nick Bell, Paula Scher (Pentagram), Paulus M. Dreibholz, Pixelgarten, Ralf Metzger (North), Simon Earith (YES), Spin, Stefan Sagmeister, The Designers Republic, Why Not Associates, Wim Crouwel, Zak Kyes, Zamir Antonio (Eat Sleep Work/Play).
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21.06.08 Guitars and graphics

This is an adaptation of a talk given today by Michael Johnson at the Interesting 2008 conference.
I’ll admit that this is a slightly selfish theme for a talk; during the day I’m a graphic designer but at lunchtimes and night I’m an amateur guitarist. And in a way the two things rarely come together. So I thought it would be interesting to take the last century of graphics and guitar music and see if, or when, the two things ever do combine.
The earliest blues guitarists used small, parlour sized acoustic guitars, and often tried to play in a way that emulated the popular piano style of the time, ragtime. Gradually blues guitar developed as a style in its own right, and the earliest guitar heroes were born such as Robert Johnson. Legend has it that he popped out for a few beers but ended up selling his soul to the devil at a crossroads and received the ‘gift’ of the blues in return. 
At the turn of the century decorative design was a long way from beer and crossroads, having carried over the decorative styles of the Art and Crafts and the Viennese Secession. Illustrators such as Aubrey Beardsley and artists such as the Beggarstaff Brothers were the design poster-boys of the day (although no-one called them graphic designers, not yet).

After WW1 graphic design as we now know it began to develop, spurred on by the experiments of El Lissitsky and Malevitch, and institutionalised by Gropius’s Bauhaus. Most of the inspiration for the rest of the century’s design stems from this work, either by the Bauhaus’s own disciples, or by the parallel skills of people such as Piet Zwart.
What they were listening to as they pushed around their wood type is much harder to ascertain (although it seems that there is a link between Gropius and Mahler, the former having once had an affair with the latter’s estranged wife). Wagner of course was one of Hitler’s musical favourites (he loved to use it at rallies) and became the spur for some of the finest, earliest ‘agit’ work by John Heartfield, protesting against the Nazi dictator’s rule.
Things were much simpler back in guitar-ville; Count Basie acquired a new guitarist in 1937, called Freddie Green, but Green became famous for only ever wanting to play rhythm, never lead. Django Reinhart excelled in Europe but it was Charlie Christian who was the first guitarist to make a mark with an electrified guitar.

But post-war the saxophone was king, thanks to the likes of Charlie Parker. Parker’s phenomenal technique was daunting to most other musicians, especially guitarists, struggling with strings the width of industrial wire and unsophisticated instruments. Legend has it that Parker would often scribble down the ‘head’ for a track in the cab on the way to the studio, leaving the other musicians struggling to play the fusillade of notes that had appeared in his actual head.
Of course the graphics of the fifties has become iconic, either Blue Note album sleeves, or the development of mainstream graphics by Paul Rand and Saul Bass.

But still very little of this crossed over into guitar music: this was design for jazz music, or corporate America.
 It took the pioneering electric blues guitarists of the fifties to show everyone what was possible on an electric guitar, from Howling Wolf, to Muddy Waters and Chuck Berry.  Of course when white guitarists tried to copy this sound, it came out sounding especially jangly and bizarre – I defy anyone to listen to Duane Eddy or the Shadows now for any period of time without laughing hysterically (although Hank Marvin can at least claim to play the first Stratocaster imported into this country).
Finally though, the sixties began to bring guitars and graphics together. Not only did The Beatles and The Stones steal well from their fifties heroes, but they commissioned great sleeves too.
And rather than do poor, weaker covers of their blues heroes, guitarists such as Eric Clapton transformed tracks like Freddie Kings’s Hideaway. By making liberal use of a distorting amp (with his sound engineers holding their hands over the ears at the ensuing racket) Clapton introduced a new sound to the world’s guitar players.
But my two subjects were finally about to collide properly, courtesy of the psychedelic movement and two important events in London – an exhibition of Aubrey Beardsley at the V&A in 1966 and the arrival in town of a certain Jimi Hendrix. All of a sudden music and graphics were inseparable. 


Wes Wilson, Hapshash & The Coloured Coat, Milton Glaser’s iconic Dylan poster: these were all iconic designs and designers of the time whose worked became umbilically linked to the music. The arrival of the next wave of bands such as Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd saw a phase when the art displayed on the 12 inch sleeve was to become as critical as the music to a teenager’s memories of the period, and propelled sleeve designers such as Hipgnosis to stardom. 

But there’s only so many Roger Dean covers that the world can actually take, and it’s no surprise that Queen became so easy to lampoon in Wayne’s World. Rock music, with its twenty minute guitar and drum solos had become both ridiculous and ridiculed. Cue a musical and graphic revolution: Punk arrived using the work of designers such as situationist Jamie Reid to create a visual style to match the aural barrage. The Buzzcocks sleeves of Malcolm Garrett influenced another, new wave of designers, just as their 60s counterparts had done a decade earlier. 

But just as graphics was getting into it’s stride, with famous work from Peter Saville, Neville Brody (and later in the eighties, Mark Farrow and Vaughan Oliver) music mainly rejected the guitar.
Much of eighties music is dominated by Duran Duran, the Human League, synthesisers and pop videos – the only guitar music to be heard came from a genre heavily influenced by the virtuoso Eddie Van Halen - poodle-haired rock was born.

70s guitars shops had long banned the Zeppelin anthem, Stairway to Heaven, but soon added the Guns and Roses anthem, Sweet Child of Mine, to their list. If, by the end of the eighties, G’n’R were the world’s biggest rock band, that gives you an quick insight into how far the music had fallen.

Just as the decade before, and the decade before that, another musical and visual revolution came, right on cue, with grunge music and its graphics neatly intertwined.



In the UK, the 90s were dominated by guitar based music influenced by The La’s and propelled by a sales war between Oasis and Blur. The century ended with a series of newer bands turning to the designers of their favourite Zeppelin and Floyd covers, Hipgnosis, to do the same for them. And newer, rougher bands like the White Stripes carefully controlled their image, colour schemes and videos whilst reviving great, grungy, messy blues-fuelled rock. 

The last few years have seen an interesting twist to this story. Whilst Dragonforce would previously have been known only to fans of speed-thrash-metal, now they’re famous for supplying the most difficult track to play on the latest version of Guitar Hero. If you’re stuggling to play it for real (like me), there are legions of teenage bedroomers happy to show you their version on YouTube. Or 9-year olds prepared to show you how to do it on the game itself. 
Guitar Hero seems to have propelled a revival in all interest ‘Rock’ in general – AC/DC are back in the studio and this summer sees Whitesnake, Def Leppard and Kiss all playing the festivals in Europe. Soon you’ll be able to buy the Aerosmith version of the game itself, so if you’re struggling to master ‘Walk this Way’ don’t fret, you can just play the game version instead.
This revival, for once, isn’t being mirrored by graphics – music graphics has progressively shrunk from the size of the 12 inch album, to the CD, to a 50 pixel square picture on an iPod screen. Graphic designers are peddling their wares everywhere else, but not in music.

But if the pattern of the relationship of guitars and graphics reveals anything…

...it’s that the two don’t stay apart for long. In the sixties, seventies and nineties the two were umbilically linked together. So that means we’re due for the next big-thing, pretty soon. Are you ready? PS this talk was delivered whilst playing the guitar, and involved some complex choreography with a rather complicated pedal board. This ended up being pretty amateurish, in case you were wondering, but luckily Interesting’s attendees didn’t boo me off (like they can in Guitar Hero).
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Thought for the week is a regular posting-place for the visual and verbal observations of London design consultancy johnson banks.
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03.07.08 The world’s first museum of graphic design
30.06.08 About Paula
25.06.08 Debriefing on Interesting 2008
24.06.08 A typeface for UNICEF
21.06.08 Guitars and graphics
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