Showing posts with label Experimental format. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Experimental format. Show all posts

Thursday, 3 June 2010

Design Context Posters Outcome













The posters outcome where tested a couple of times, I firstly printed on a heavier stock and then printed onto  a thiner stock as it folded better as i changed the idea to fit into the back of the book. I then decided to change the fold to sit into the book. As I printed the posters down the road as Vernon street the outcome was not good quality as the printers downstairs the printer was not calibrated correctly and the in design document I created the design in was put into a photoshop document which avoided all my considerations of point sizes, it also meant the craft was very poor yet i still felt that the design was much stronger on a thiner stock. I was happy with the design of the posters yet I was not happy with the crafting finish this is something I will put in my evaluation.

Wednesday, 2 June 2010

Poster tests Heavy stock



























This was how the posters sit together yet I think that the stock is to thick and does not fold very well which craeses and gives an overall poor production apperance. Therefore I feel I should print on a lighter stock and change the design to not a full bleed of colour to just the type in colour so that it does not saturate the  stock as much.  

Tuesday, 25 May 2010

Greig Anderson Interview


GREIG ANDERSON of Effektive (www.effektivedesign.co.uk) is a 27-year-old graphic designer. Originally from Aberdeen, Scotland he graduated with a BA (Hons) Graphic Design degree in 2004 and has previously spent four years working within the Scottish/UK design industry at multi-disciplinary agency Curious based in Glasgow. Greig is currently based in Sydney for 12 months and is working as a designer at Surrey Hills-based design agency There.

WD: With the increasing use of online promotion, why did you choose to go down the offline route?
GREIG-PROFILE-PIC-3SMALLGA: I really felt that it’s too easy these days to just send in a PDF, or an email with a link to a website. As I was approaching agencies here in Sydney, an industry I really didn’t know very much about and have any contacts, I really felt it was important that I created something with a bit of impact that stands out. Being aware of what it’s like working in an agency and seeing how many unopened emails, PDFs and CVs from designers used to come in and end up lost somewhere in the creative director’s inbox made me realise that I needed to create something which would physically make them stop and look away from their screen allowing a little amount of time to introduce myself and my work. This idea really influenced the overall design and tone of the piece. I kept the cover simple, bold and personal to try and get them to take that minute to look into it a little further. The general design is like I was actually introducing myself and it was informative in terms of my details but also just how to navigate the printed piece itself. I created custom card inserts to mask the cover of the mailer to help with the impact. I think it is really important to find out the names of everyone that you are going to contact, spell them correctly and genuinely show some interest in working there. Although I predominantly used the mailer as a means of showcasing my work and skills, I had also spent a lot of time building a strong online presence through my own website and blog which the mailer referenced back too and they all sat consistently well together in look and feel.
WD: What design and/or production issues did you face?
GA: The main design problem I faced was format. I knew that I wanted to make the piece predominantly about showcasing my work so that the recipient could quickly and easily just look at work samples if they didn’t want to read all the information. Generally I feel that most designers and agencies will make a judgement on you based on the work before anything else and really just want to see that before then going back to read more about you. I decided that I wanted to create a large-format poster again for physical impact so I thought originally about sending out posters in custom poster tubes but soon realised that that would be difficult and expensive to do well. I started looking at various ways that I could fold the poster down to a more manageable, mailable size and eventually went for an A2 flat poster which folds down to a A5 booklet. This gave me the impact of the poster and also a nice sequential booklet to introduce myself. The A5 size meant it was much easier to mail and the A5 plastic sealable bags were an offthe- shelf size which helped to keep the cost down. The only other problems faced once I had the format was actually sitting down and putting the design together and selecting the work I wanted to showcase, it’s true that you are your own worst client. I must have gone through ten versions of the design before I finally settled and that was only because I was running out of time! In terms of production I wanted them to be printed litho for quality and I chose to print them on Cyclus Offset for a nice off white newsprint feel. Luckily I had a contact at a printers which was happy to do me deal on the printing which helped keep the cost down. Obviously due to printing litho I had to get far more than I needed to make it worth switching the press on and so I ended up with 250 and around 50 were sent to selected Sydney-based agencies. I will be selling the remaining 200 or so when I return to the UK in the autumn on a new shop feature on my website.
WD: What key advice would you give to any designer/agency that was thinking of using a similar method of self promoting their skills/products?
GA: It would differ whether you are a designer sending to agencies or whether it is more of a new business/marketing tool aimed at potential clients but my advice would be to create something that represents you to the best of your ability and something that you, as a designer, would be excited to find sitting on your desk. I tried to create something that I thought was in itself a good example of my design skills as well as something which would introduce and promote me and my work.

B&W Studio



B&W Studio
PROJECT: ANNUAL APPEAL 2007
DESIGNERS: LEE BRADLEY, STEVE WILLS, ANDREW DROOG AT B&W STUDIO
PHOTOGRAPHER: JOHN ANGERSON
CLIENT: ST. GEORGE'S CRYPT

PAPER FACTS:
STOCK MCNAUGHTON CYCLUS PRINT 115GSM
SIZE 210 X 148.5MM (8 1/4 X 5 13/16IN)
PRINT TECHNIQUES TWO-COLOR OFFSET LITHO
ADDITIONAL TECHNIQUE BADGE WITH LOGO APPLIED
PRINTER HARROGATE PRINT LTD.
Charity St. George's Crypt's annual appeal is designed to raise money for the homeless. The 2007 brief to B&W Studio was to communicate how the money is spent and how the charity's clients benefit from the donations as well as updating donors on the previous year's activities. Direct messaging and the bold use of high-contrast yellow and black were chosen to ensure the piece would really stand out.
A recycled paper stock was chosen for its lightweight quality—a practical choice to help keep postage costs down. plastic mailing-bag houses four A3 (297 x 420mm; 11 3/4 x 16 1/5in) calendar posters, one for each season, folded to make a 16-page loose-leaf brochure. The final touch—a free badge bearing the charity's logo—gives the overall feel of a mailer with added extras.

B&W Studio



B&W Studio
PROJECT: 75TH ANNIVERSARY ANNUAL APPEAL
DESIGNERS: LEE BRADLEY, STEVE WILLS AT B&W STUDIO
PHOTOGRAPHER: JOHN ANGERSON
CLIENT: ST. GEORGE'S CRYPT

PAPER FACTS:
STOCK GF SMITH COLORPLAN 270GSM
SIZE 300 X 222MM (11 13/16 X 8 3/4IN)
PRINT TECHNIQUES ONE-COLOR OFFSET LITHO
ADDITIONAL TECHNIQUES SILVER-FOIL BLOCKING
PRINTER HARROGATE PRINT LTD.
St George’s Crypt is a Leeds-based charity that provides shelter and advice to homeless, rootless, and disadvantaged people. For their 75th-anniversary appeal, they asked B&W Studio to create a mailer that would help raise £750,000 (US $1.5 million). Using simple typography and layout on eight different colors of GF Smith Colorplan paper, the solution centers on the house-shaped outline formed by an open envelope that was to be used to send in a donation. The strapline “Help put a roof over somebody’s head” ties the whole concept together. The piece won gold in the Direct Mail section of the Roses Design Awards 2005.

Interview with sagmeister


Interview with Stefan Sagmeister, by Emily Winifred Ford, May 2008

Stefan Sagmeister has pushed the boundaries of typography with his deeply personal and often hand-made graphic designs. From his office in New York, Sagmeister recently published a book made up of 15 booklets, collectively entitled Things I Have Learned In My Life So Far. Each booklet contains a maxim, delicately composed using media ranging from sugar to microscopic pollen, and stories about how the images were produced. To keep himself fresh, he periodically closes his practice to clients for a full year to dedicate himself to experimentation.

FORD: Your work is uniquely personal—you once scratched a lecture poster into your chest with a razor. Where does that desire come from?
SAGMEISTER: As a designer it's our job to communicate. I find that so much of communication falls into an old version of modernism: informed by machines, very exact, and ultimately cold. Although that kind of communication worked very well in the 20s and 30s when it was new—we've had it now 80 years, at least 40 of which it was the status quo—modernism now leaves a vast percentage of the audience pretty cold. So to bring in a personal point of view or even subjectivity seems to me like a pretty obvious strategy. I am not arguing that every piece of communication should be designed from a personal point of view, but even the type of communication that seems the least conducive to personal communication would work much better were it not done in the standard modernism mode.
For example, I collect emergency exit cards from airplanes—I have hundreds of them. With one single exception, Virgin, they are designed in the same style: some sort of modernist icons with arrows that show you how to find the exit. I am on planes a lot, yet I have never seen a passenger looking at these cards, despite the stewardesses always reminding passengers to do so. Virgin, as far as I know, is the only airline anywhere that designed these cards with a much more personal, more cartoonish, and subjective point of view. Whenever I fly Virgin, I see people looking at the emergency cards. The same is true of the instructional videos. People actually watch the emergency movie because it's done quite beautifully. They are done with some love and care not only with regard to the content but also to the form. I think that sort of strategy could be even truer when your content is more personable, such as for a charity or a cultural event.
FORD: Have the emergency cards ever come to influence your work?
SAGMEISTER: I hope not! That sort of generic piece of design has been used to death in the last century. I'll die happily if I don't have to see another take on the emergency card; that sort of visual vocabulary has pretty much been beaten to death by now.
FORD: Has a client ever asked you to design in the typical modern style? How did you change the situation?
SAGMEISTER: I think it has probably happened but I've forgotten. Because we never had a recognizable style I think we quite successfully avoided being pigeonholed by clients. I know that other designers complain that clients say, "Oh, I want another one of these," but we have very little of that. I think it helped that, for a long while, we were all over the place stylistically and formally. The profession that complains about this the most, perhaps, is illustrators. Once an illustrator has an established style clients want it over and over again even if the illustrator is completely sick of it. There are a couple of illustrators, my friend Christoph Niemann for example, who almost from the very beginning established three and then five or seven styles, and successfully avoided the whole problem. I think something similar happened with our studio.
FORD: Your approach to experimenting is different from most design houses, which take an hour at the end of the day for experimentation. To have a whole year is very different.
SAGMEISTER: I think ultimately its very similar. If you're a designer desiring experimentation, you will have to institutionalize it. If you don't, you won't experiment because jobs with deadlines will always take precedence. Whether it is an hour every day, or a week every month, or a year every seven years, I think ultimately that's just a matter of timing.
FORD: What are your plans for your upcoming experiment year?
SAGMEISTER: I have a long list, which I wrote down in the last year or two, which needs to be ordered by importance and assigned weekly hours. I found that if I don't make a plan, others will make it for me. In my previous client-free year, my initial intent of just seeing what comes didn't work at all because my time was filled up with students from Korea asking questions or a Japanese design magazine wanting files to be sent, etc.
Although I am ordinarily not a secretive person, I have taken on the very Viennese habit of not talking about things that I have yet to do. Otherwise I live through it and loose the desire to actually do it. So, before I don't do the content of the upcoming year, I'd rather not talk about it.
FORD: What was your favorite project during your previous experimental year?
SAGMEISTER: The most enjoyable was designing a CD cover every Thursday from 9am to 12pm. I would put any CD that was lying around into the player, start working immediately, and then be done with the whole thing, complete with soft-page booklet and CD label by 12 o'clock.
FORD: How did the time constraint in the CD cover inform the design?
SAGMEISTER: I think constraints are good in general. Limited freedom is a very difficult place to work in. Brian Eno, who now is a client, once said the electric guitar became the predominant instrument of the 20th century exactly because it is such a "stupid" instrument, because it can do fairly little. The synthesizer, in contrast, never quite took that dominant place because the things it can do are too vast. And I think that, within that same realm, as a designer, you can take on various constraints. One of the constraints I took on in that year was time constraints. Designing a CD cover within three hours utterly changed the nature of the outcome. I had to work with existing materials. You don't have the luxury, the possibility, or the difficulty to say, "Okay this would work really great if had this computer program or that material right now." You have to make it work with the stuff you have. Of course this significantly changes the outcome not only in form but also conceptually since there was little time to conceptualize the whole thing. So the CD covers took in, and were informed by, my own little anxieties and inabilities. Because the process is so immediate—ideas need to take shape right then—I find that the results are automatically more personal pieces as a result. I think in the experimental year specifically, because it was an artificial time constraint—the outcome didn't need to be printable—it was very exciting to work this way.
FORD: Did the CD covers get better as time went on?
SAGMEISTER: No, they just became different. I think they went up and down. Some of them were wonderful some of them weren't.
FORD: When do you use time constraints in your everyday work?
SAGMEISTER: When it comes to idea generation I find it particularly helpful to have little pockets of designated time when you say, "I'm going to think about this now for 15 minutes." And in those 15 minutes you're truly thinking about it rather than going to the loo or checking email or doing something else.
When I returned to my regular studio mode following the experimental year, I tried using constraints again for regular client work. For example, in designing the billboard "Trying To Look Good Limits My Life" for Paris I used this same technique. We said, "Okay, let's take five days. We'll have one day for every billboard. We'll start at sunrise and we will have to be done at sundown because we don't have any flash equipment." This significantly changed the outcome both in concept and in form.
FORD: Design can be called a process of compromising to constraints. Is there anything you have compromised in your design?
SAGMEISTER: Oh, yup, all the time. It happens to us too. It's part of the deal. Whenever you involve others there has to be some give and take. If you want it to be your way 24 hours a day, then you are going to have to make it yourself and publish it yourself. As soon as you need collaborators—in our case [we have collaborators] for ideas as well as for execution and distribution, media choices—even then there will be compromises. These compromises can be seen as limitations or compromising can be seen as one of the more important abilities for any designer. I have always had the biggest admiration for people who can do good pieces for a very large audience; for example Olafur Eliasson I respect highly. I understand the difficulties that are involved in doing something good that also has to engage a large audience at, say, the Tate Modern, where over a million people will see it. Matt Groening from the Simpsons is also one of my favorite examples, or Saarinen and the Arch of St. Louis—things that become part of mass culture but are by themselves very high quality pieces.
FORD: Have you tackled these larger audiences?
SAGMEISTER: Not properly. I've always been too chicken shit to take on that scale.
FORD: Was your new book, the collection of maxims Things I Have Learned In My Life So Far, seeded from your experimental year as well?
SAGMEISTER: In a very loose way. All of the work in the book was produced after the year, when we were in regular studio mode again. But the thinking behind it as well as the list of maxims that I had quickly jotted down came from the year.
About a month into the experimental year, I thought I wanted to do film. I was not naive—becoming fluent in video starting from scratch was going to be a 10 year process. As I started to plan out how I was going to make this do-able, it occurred to me that design is a language just as valued as film; that maybe I should figure out if I had anything to say in the design-y language before I put ten years of my life learning video only to discover I have nothing to say. Up until that point, most of the things—although not exclusively—that I have said in the language of design were for promotional avenues. I thought there might be room for something that is more personal.
When the year was over and we did regular client work again, I was excited to take on clients that gave us a lot of freedom. I thought, "Maybe now's the time to really try out [developing a maxim for the client]." I don't have anything against selling and creating promotional things; I don't think selling and promoting is inherently bad, not at all, but there was room for something more personal. Although none of it was produced in that year, [many maxims were created in the following years for clients in the form of billboards, magazine covers and the like] I think the entire series basically came out of thinking during the experimental year.
FORD: Is there something in addition to the literal meaning of the maxims that you were trying to communicate?
SAGMEISTER: In many of them we pursued a strategy for the form that did not necessary come out of the saying itself. I thought that otherwise I might create a very one-dimensional saying that people would have difficulty finding themselves in. Instead, I created forms for many of them that have meaning to me but are opaque to an outside viewer. For example "Everything I Do Always Comes Back to Me" is made of onion rings which is a reference to my mentor Tibor Kalman's onion ring collection. The regular viewer somewhere in Korea or France wouldn't know that of course. But, because the saying itself is so straight forward, without irony, the more opaque form opens up the possibility for interpretation for the viewer. I felt that that was going to happen and I found evidence that this in fact did happen with a number of pieces
FORD: Do you think you are trying to have a conversation or a broadcast with your audience?
SAGMEISTER: In general the project is probably both. If you publish a book it's difficult to have a good dialogue, even with the feedback that people take time to write to me. But we do have a web version of the whole thing.
FORD: How do the book and the web site relate to each other?
SAGMEISTER: Well, the physical book is all designed by us while the webpage is designed by the general public, so the authors of the two are different but the subject is the same
FORD: Why did you want to do the web component?
SAGMEISTER: I don't know, sounds pretty obvious, no? Of course the technology enables us to do this efficiently and affordably. After I would give a talk there were audience members who asked after the possibility of a web site. In fact, at least three people offered to design the web site for us. I didn't take them up on the offer—we've had less than fantastic experiences with others designing web sites for us. But we definitely said we'd design a system for the site where the public can upload its own maxims, complete with image. And the two fit wonderfully together.
FORD: Are you becoming more interested in interactive or metamorphosing pieces as opposed to static pieces?
SAGMEISTER: I think I'll stay somewhere in between. Because of my age, even if there is a web component, I still like having a physical part. So my guess would be that we're moving into some sort of hybrid. It doesn't mean that a screen needs to be involved necessarily [as in the decaying banana typography for the Deitch gallery.] But, of course, like everybody else we would like to take advantage of new technologies.
FORD: What did you learn from producing the book?
SAGMEISTER: One of the biggest surprises to me was that halfway through we started to get clients that absolutely wanted a maxim. They would never have come to us for a logo or a web site. It underlined something that I suspected, but didn't quite dare to believe. Basically the reason commercial clients insist on doing all this selling and promotion work is because this has become the only option in the industry. If you give them an alternative, show that there are other possibilities, there are a good number of clients that will want to go down that road, even if they wouldn't even imagine going that route initially.
FORD: Have you convinced other commercial clients to do something other than promoting and selling?
SAGMEISTER: It's basically the Things I've learned In My Life So Far. I don't think we went outside that because, essentially, the studio has only been running for six or seven years since the last experimental year. Basically when we had a chance to do anything outside of the promotional arena we did one of the sentences.
FORD: What other things have you done that are outside the scopeof selling and promoting?
SAGMEISTER: Roughly a quarter of our work is for social causes and NGOs. This is, in a way, selling or promoting a cause, or informing people—the line between information and promotion is sometimes fairly blurry. Of course we pick the NGOs or the causes that are close to our hearts.
FORD: What's new in your social work?
SAGMEISTER: We're just towards the end of a small project for a rain forest in Panama. It's a very small organization that wants to save a particular, manageable part of the rainforest there. We took it on because their project, program, and business model all seem do-able; the chances seemed good that, after a year or two of engagement, they would actually raise the money, buy the rainforest, and make an eco path. Two of our most time-consuming NGOs that we work for [True Majority and OneVoice] have extremely big goals. Now, considering who may become president in November, True Majority might actually attain its goal [of decreasing the Pentagon budget and increasing the budget for education]. But if the other candidate is elected then the chances are nill for another four years. The second charity, One Voice, which we have been working with for the last five years, is an Israeli/Palestine organization against a gigantic goal that I don't think we are going to reach in any time soon. So, we had a desire to mix it up, to have some large NGOs and then a smaller one.
FORD: What role would you like designers to have in shaping our future socially?
SAGMEISTER: I think that's a question every designer will need to answer. I definitely don't think I could, or should, be a role model—I can't say this is what the profession should or should not be doing. For my own studio, I find it more satisfying and efficient when we mix it up, do community work mixed in with other work. I think in general design is too powerful a language to be used only for selling and promoting.
FORD: How did you come to know that you liked working in a small team?
SAGMEISTER: After design school I worked for companies that were small, medium, large, and even extra large. I found even at the very large companies, the good pieces came out of tiny teams of three or four people. Tthe largeness in most cases actually hindered the quality rather than supported it. The reason some design companies grew in size had nothing to do with the quality that they could deliver or even the quality that they can communicate to the audience or client. Rather it had much more to do with financial interests.
FORD: Do you think design should always be done in a small team?
SAGMEISTER: Within the world of communication, yes, absolutely. If you have three entities in that equation, an audience, the client, and a studio, all three are better off if the studio is small. There are some things within the applied arts that you can't really do well in a small team. Car design for example. But even there, now small teams seem to do extraordinary things, as we've seen with Tesla, the electric sports car. It's mind-boggling that a couple of guys in California can create a more efficient engine than general motors can design. While certain things need a large team, communications is not one of them.
FORD: Future work?
SAGMEISTER: As I mentioned I don't really don't like to talk about things I haven't completed yet, but let me just check what is on the burner that I am looking forward to seeing done. We're doing another sentence for Amsterdam involving lots of money that is lying around on the ground. It's a bit of an urban experiment to see if people will take the money even when it is beautifully arranged on the ground.
Another project that I am very much looking forward to is a design visualization guide for scientists. In many areas of science the scientists or their graduate students visualize very complex situations—the most complex things that one could possibly try to visualize—without any kind of education or training in that direction. So we've worked on a little guide, almost like a Design 101 handbook, but geared specifically for scientists.
FORD: Favorite tool with which to design?
SAGMEISTER: Oh my god! That is a difficult question … I have to think about it. The first things that comes to mind would be a pencil but that doesn't seem like a very interesting answer.
FORD: And your favorite time of day?
SAGMEISTER: The early morning.

Made Thought Interview


MadeThought / Typographic Circle. Taking the rough with the smooth off the grid

‘New designers come to work with us and I see them spending half a day fannying around with the baseline grid,’ said MadeThought’s Paul Austin to a slightly alarmed audience at the Typographic Circle on Thursday night, writes Simon Esterson. ‘I don’t know what that is,’ he added and made it clear he didn’t really care either. ‘We don’t really have grids. We work . . . by eye.’ Keen to distance their approach from rigid design systems and emphasise that they want to ‘add a layer of expression’ to their projects, Austin opened a box of delights for their sell-out lecture at JWT in Knightsbridge. Ben Parker, MadeThought’s co-founder was often referred to but never seen.
The studio’s type decisions are immaculate, but most of the jobs are conceived to escape from the limitations of two-dimensional flat print: surfaces are duplexed, scored, perforated, folded, foiled, laser-etched or blind embossed and in one project for Addidas, holes are punched through covers and internal pages to reveal photographs below. Many of the recent projects are pieces of three-dimensional packaging design for Stella McCartney or Alan Yau’s Yauatcha, exhibitions or even, in the case of the façade of the new Reiss HQ off London’s Oxford Street, architecture. Here, MadeThought have covered the building’s facade with a pattern milled out of 80mm perspex.
Made Thought
Made Thought
Part of the studio’s aesthetic is about contrast: grey millboard invitations have gold foil edges, white surfaces open to reveal flourescent inners. The super-smooth of designer furniture brands like Established and Sons is tempered by raw surfaces. That’s the way we’ve liked our luxury recently: the rough with the smooth, the trainers with the tailored jacket.
I came out of JWT into G20-locked-down London . . . I wonder how things are going to be now that we have to take the rough with the rough?

Monday, 24 May 2010

Experimental Jetset interview

Late last year I had to pleasure of interviewing Danny, Marieke and Erwin of Experimental Jetset. Founded in 1997 and based in Amsterdam, Experimental Jetset is one of the most exciting and highly regarded studios working today. They create exceptionally beautiful work; immediately recognizable for its top notch quality and unique remixing of modernist principles and stylings. Their global renown continues to soar– most recently thanks to their part in Helvetica and the extreme popularity of their (now re-released) John&Paul&Ringo&George shirts.
A quick perusal of their website can easily turn into hours as you browse through their catalog of work and read their comprehensive descriptions of each project. In these descriptions, and especially in interviews, the depth of their reflection is astounding. They take great care to consider every perspective — whether it be a report of one of their own projects, or an answer to a seemingly basic interview prompt — their ability to discuss Design and work is as remarkable as it is fascinating. What follows is our discussion from November 2009. Enjoy!

I have always loved your name, Experimental Jetset. I know the origin to be a Sonic Youth album, but I’m curious how your opinions and conception of the name may have evolved over the last 11 years.
It’s funny, when you choose a name, as a studio, you have no idea you’ll be stuck with that name for the rest of your career. And while you are evolving, as a studio, the name remains the same. So yeah, it’s an interesting question. Indeed, the relationship between a studio and its name is a constantly shifting one. First you love your name, then you hate it, and then you realize you better embrace it. Then there are times that your name seems to exist completely independent from yourself: whenever we read the name ‘Experimental Jetset’, it usually takes us a while to realize people are actually writing about us. It sometimes feels like a completely different entity, something that exists almost separately from us.
Sonic Youth has always been one of our favourite bands, so we’re still very happy that our name specifically refers to them. At the same time, we realize that the ‘Jetset’-part in our name might come across as a bit tacky, in a sort of ‘lounge lizard’ way.
But then again, there is something to be said for tacky, silly names. Think of the name ‘the Beatles’: an extremely silly wordplay, in no way describing what the band later grew into. Or ‘the Beach Boys’: great name for a mediocre surfband, but not really fitting for Brian Wilson’s brilliance. But at the same time, these names are excellent, exactly because they reveal the beginnings of these bands. It ties these bands to their roots, which is great, we think. Likewise, the name ‘Experimental Jetset’ says something about our own beginnings, whether we like it or not.
De Theatercompagnie | Posters for The Pillowman | December 2005

De Theatercompagnie | Posters for Gilgamesj | January 2005

De Theatercompagnie | Driekoningenavond Promotional Material | February 2006
What are some of your favorite names of other companies (within the field or not)? Given your answers, what do you think it is that makes for a good name?
Well, ‘Total Design’ is the first name that springs to mind. In many ways, it’s the ultimate studio name, isn’t it? It’s so brutal, so merciless… It would be impossible to pull off a name like that in this current era. In general, people have become a bit too squeamish to handle such an absolute, authoritarian gesture, we guess.
As for contemporary names, we really like ‘A Practice for Everyday Life’. It’s so smart to use your studio name as a semantic bridge between the ideas of Michel de Certeau and the practice of graphic design. What we also really like is the fact that the acronym is a word in itself: APFEL, which is German for apple. And what’s cooler than an apple?
Some of our former students just started a studio called ‘Our Polite Society’, which we think is a very good name as well. And we recently came across a studio called ‘The Luxury of Protest’, which is also quite cool. There are actually loads of very interesting names. ‘The Designers Republic’, ‘Graphic Thought Facility’, ‘Life of the Mind’… It’s impossible to mention them all.
It’s actually a very good subject you brought up. In ‘The Arcades Project’, Walter Benjamin wrote that “through its street names, the city is a linguistic cosmos”. So maybe we can regard graphic design as a sort of cityscape as well, as a linguistic cosmos of studio names. We very much like this idea.
CAPC | Heimo Zobernig Exhibition Invitation (front) | September 2009

CAPC | Heimo Zobernig Exhibition Poster | Photo by Frédéric Deval | 2009
Khoi Vinh wrote an article not too long ago about the state of honest criticism in design. At one point in the article he asks, “are we really having the kinds of meaningful, constructive, critical discourses that we really should be having?” I’m curious to hear your thoughts on this issue. Do you find there is a dearth of honest and effective design critique happening in the field? How does your studio approach criticism when it comes to your own projects?

This theme, of criticism and graphic design, is a subject that we find very interesting. Although, we have to admit, the way we approach it is quite different from the approach you suggest in your question. We’re much more interested graphic design AS criticism: the idea that a piece of graphic design is a manifestation of a certain way of thinking, a certain way of ordering the world, and that, by functioning in that way, that piece of graphic design is effectively critiquing the dominant way of thinking, the existing way of ordering the world.
Or, in a similar way, we also very much like the fact that two different posters, hanging next to each other in the street, are in fact critiques of each other. To refer again to ‘The Arcades Project’: at a certain point, Walter Benjamin describes the flaneur, walking around in Paris, being confronted by the posters, signs and slogans in the streets of the city: “Under these conditions, even a sentence (to say nothing of the single word) puts on a face, and this face resembles that of the sentence standing next to it. In this way, every truth points manifestly to its opposite. Truth becomes something living; it lives solely in the rhythm by which statement and counter-statement displace each other in order to think each other”.
So that is the sort of critical discourse that we find most interesting: the dialectical exchange that exists between designed objects. We’re much less interested in this whole sphere of graphic designers publicly criticizing and attacking each other on weblogs and forums.
In a way, we even think that this brand of online peer-to-peer criticizing might be hurtful to what we see as the true critical potential of graphic design. In our view, aesthetic languages should contrast as sharply as possible. Two posters, hanging next to each other in the street, should be as different from each other as possible: the viewer should resolve the tension between these two posters him- or herself. The tension should not be prematurely resolved in online forums, in discussions between designers; it should be resolved in the head of the viewer, by a ‘third party’, so to speak. Only then, to speak with Benjamin, “truth becomes something living”.
We understand this probably sounds pretty abstract; it’s hard for us to explain it in a better way. But we can give a very personal example. We grew up in Dutch cities like Amsterdam and Rotterdam. We can still vividly remember the contrasting aesthetic languages that were surrounding us towards the end of the 70s, in our pre-teenage years. On the one hand, buildings were carrying signs designed by typical ‘late-modernist’ design groups such a Total Design. Those same buildings also carried punk graffiti, band names, anarchist signs. Precisely because these two languages contrasted so sharply, they collapsed in our heads, and we were able to formulate a ‘third position’, a sort of synthesis of two opposing languages. And it is this synthesis that became the foundation of our own graphic language today.
Now, imagine that the ‘late-modernist’ designers, and the anarcho-punks, would have resolved that tension already for us, in some kind of premature discussion… Where would that leave us? There would have been no tension for us to solve, no synthesis to strive for. There would have been no room for movement at all.
We think this kind of online peer-to-peer criticism is counterproductive on a very practical level as well. In our view, what this whole subculture of small, independent studios really needs is a sense of solidarity. It could do with less bickering, less backstabbing.
We think this whole international scene of small studios is really special, and we should try to protect it as much as possible. The independent studio is pretty much a threatened species. The catastrophic influence from branding-, marketing- and PR-people becomes more and more visible every day. Large advertising conglomerates are taking over the kind of territory that was usually covered by smaller, more cultural studios. The world has gone mad, and even the smallest client suddenly wants to work with pitches and competitions, because they believe this is the way it should be. We really think that, in the middle of all madness, we should stick together. We should use our combined energy to defend this whole subculture of small studios. We shouldn’t be putting energy in complaining about each others work. “I would have kerned this logo in a completely different way”… well, of course you would have kerned it in a completely different way. But what’s the point moaning about that in public? We all have different graphic languages; that’s the beauty of it. Why spend so much energy on what are basically small stylistic differences?
We did enjoy Khoi Vinh’s article a lot though. It’s interesting to notice how people perceive things in completely different ways. At a certain point, he writes that “it’s not hard, in design, to reside in a frictionless environment”. We couldn’t disagree more. In our own day-to-day practice, design pretty much equals friction. As a studio, you constantly have to expose your work, protect it, defend it, alter it, repair it. You have to deal with clients, curators, editors, printers, etc., and on top of that, you have to deal with a design industry that can be quite hostile towards smaller studios. It’s pretty much an uphill battle. So the last thing you need are your peers, attacking you from behind.
It’s also interesting how Khoi Vinh, elsewhere in his essay, makes the connection between criticism and honesty. While, in our personal experience, there is a really strong link between criticism and dishonesty. A lot of the people who have publicly attacked us (calling us lazy, cynical, false, nihilistic, whatnot), have later contacted us, to ask us if we wanted to contribute to their design book or little art project, or if they could drop by at our studio, to visit us. In their mails, some even described themselves as “big admirers” of our work. This phenomenon has always struck us as very bizarre. Publicly they attack you, but privately they admire you. To us, it shows that criticism is often a pose, a facade. It’s certainly not always honest.
The above remarks refer pretty much to peer-to-peer criticism. The professional critics, well, that’s a whole other can of worms. Don’t get us started on that. For now, it might be enough to quote Brecht, who described critics brilliantly: “They are, to put it bluntly, enemies of production. Production makes them uncomfortable (…) They want to play the apparatchik, and exercise control over other people. Every one of their criticisms contains a threat”.
Helvetica | Posters for the Film | August 2006

Helvetica | Posters for the Film | August 2006
Visitors to your portfolio are immediately confronted by not only a massive amount of work, but also in-depth descriptions about each project. What was the rationale behind this, as you say, “neurotic description of everything”? Personally I am all for it, but I wonder if you could elaborate on your opinion of this style of description-driven portfolio.

You know how people sometimes say that “the work should speak for itself”? We never really bought that phrase. The point is, we are quite traditional, old-school graphic designers. We design objects to function within very specific contexts. So the moment you present those objects within a totally different context, as flat digital images on a website, it’s only logical that you need some words to at least sketch the original context.
Added to that, we really enjoy ‘background information’. We love reading about artists and their methods, watching documentaries about the making of movies, listening to writers being interviewed on the radio. We like the idea that behind every artifact, behind every designed object or piece of art, there is a complete universe of ideas, references, stories. So we like to add to this ‘background genre’ by creating, on the internet, a small hidden gateway to our own micro-universe. We are not saying that everybody should read it, or like it; on the contrary, we really created our archive for the small group of people really interested in it.
We were recently reading ‘Tropical Truth‘, the autobiography of Brazilian singer/songwriter Caetano Veloso. At a certain point, he explains a couple of his songs. Now, these are songs that we already loved, even though we couldn’t understand the Portuguese lyrics. These songs were already ’speaking for themselves’, as it were. But in his book, Caetano explains these songs, line by line, and shows all the references, all the symbolism, all the hidden meanings. And we love that. It shows that things that are already speaking for themselves, can still contain all these references, all these ideas. And even though you can’t understand them, you can still sense them. It’s pretty much like a meal. Even though you sometimes can’t really recognize the exact ingredients, you can still taste them. After the meal, you can choose to read the recipe, or not. But either way, the meal ’spoke for itself’.
Pioneers of Change | Exhibition Invitation | September 2009

Pioneers of Change | Printed Matter | September 2009

Paradiso Amsterdam | Bassline Posters | 1995-99

Paradiso Amsterdam | Bassline Posters | 1995-99
(Semi-related to above) How would you regard image bookmarking sites like FFFOUND or Dropular, where any semblance of illuminating description or backstory or is completely absent? In what way are these sites valuable and/or harmful to the profession?
We actually love sites such as FFFFound and Dropular. We consider the way in which we show our own designs, on our own website, as just one out of many possible ways. We also find it quite interesting to see those designs completely decontextualized, almost disembodied, as part of a long string of unexpected associations, as happens on FFFFound.
We once read an interview in which Thurston Moore (of Sonic Youth) described the sensation of being featured in heavy metal magazines: “it feels like being shot into a pinball machine”. That’s also pretty much the feeling we have, being featured on sites such as FFFFound.
Now that we think of it, maybe a website such as FFFFound, by staging such an ongoing, dialectical exchange between opposing aesthetic languages, has a larger critical potential than all those weblogs and forums where designers are complaining about each other’s work together.
Second Amsterdam Film Night | Program Front | December 2004

Second Amsterdam Film Night | Program Back | December 2004
What was one of the most valuable lessons you learned at Gerrit Rietveld? What advice might you have for current students looking to get the most out of their design program?
It’s not really a tactic or strategy, just an observation: a lot of the things we learned at the Gerrit Rietveld Academy only made sense after we graduated. We were late-bloomers, we guess. It took a while to let it all sink in. Also, in retrospect we have to admit that we were pretty mediocre students. It was only after graduation that everything clicked, that it all made sense.
Apart from being students, we also have been teachers at the Rietveld Academy, between 2000 and 2009. As teachers, we have seen all kinds of students. Mediocre students, who turned out to be late-bloomers, and became brilliant designers long after graduation. But also brilliant students, who just peaked too early, and burned out even before graduation. It’s not a general rule or something: we have also seen brilliant students who turned into brilliant designers. But the point that we are trying to make is that every person develops in a different way. The way a person is as a student doesn’t necessarily predicts the sort of designer he/she will be after school. So let’s hear it for the late-bloomers!
Gana Art Gallery | Vanessa Beecroft Retrospective Book | February 2007

Gana Art Gallery | Vanessa Beecroft Retrospective Poster | February 2007
How often do you travel? Any locations that are currently most appealing and/or inspiring to you?

Last year, we travelled quite a lot. Peru, New Zealand, Ireland. And we visited the US a couple of times: Miami, Minneapolis, New York, etc. All these trips were related to either lectures or workshops. While, as a matter of fact, we are not really good public speakers at all. We feel really uncertain about doing lectures. So it’s a weird trade-off: you go through one hour of pure hell, and in exchange you get to travel, you visit exotic places, and meet friendly people.
People ask us to do lectures quite a lot, and in most cases we have to turn down those requests. It just takes up so much energy, to write and prepare a lecture. We are extremely nervous weeks before the lecture, and we feel very embarrassed weeks after the lecture. It also takes up too much time; we cannot afford to spend all our time travelling, while we actually should be in the studio, working. It can be also quite expensive: obviously, your flight and hotel are being paid for, but there are always lots of other expenses, especially if you want to stay a couple of days longer, which we usually do.
So yeah, in general we turn down a lot of requests. But sometimes people approach us at just the right time, and in those cases we accept the invitation. There isn’t really a logic to it: sometimes we accept the invitation, sometimes not. It’s all a matter of timing and luck, actually.
A recent lecture we did in Minneapolis, at the fabulous Walker Art Center, can actually be seen online.
(As you might notice, we were incomplete during this lecture. This movie shows only two-third of Experimental Jetset. Erwin managed to escape).
Anyway, to get back to your question. We really like Los Angeles. Driving around in the hills, looking at the bizarre houses, listening to KXLU on the radio, looking at record sleeves at Amoeba, browsing through zines and books at Ooga Booga and Family, eating incredible good vegetarian food, seeing bands at The Smell, not to mention the beautiful weather. It’s relaxing just to think about it.
Experimental Jetset, 15.11.2009
 
http://blog.iso50.com/2010/01/10/experimental-jetset-interview/

experimental jetset interview

In May 2008 we answered some questions asked to us by Melinda Furulund, student of the Southampton Solent University (UK). The interview appeared in issue 6 of SBook, an annual publication designed by Southhampton students, and published by Art Books International. Questions by Melinda Furulund, answers by us:

01. How did you first decide that graphic design was going to be your profession?

It wasn't really a matter of one single abrupt decision. It had much more to do with a gradually growing awareness, we think.
And punk was definitely one of the things that made us aware of graphic design. Although we were too young to participate actively in the original punk explosion (being preteens in 1977), we still feel the impact of punk on our lives.
As teenagers, in the mid-80s, we were completely absorbed by all kinds of post-punk movements: psychobilly, garage punk, new wave, two tone, American hardcore. What intrigued us was not only the music, but also the graphic manifestations of it: record sleeves, badges, patches, t-shirts, flyers, posters, magazines, band logos, mix tapes. We are absolutely sure that it was this whole DIY-culture that made us aware of graphic design, that stimulated our interest in it, and ultimately led to the decision to become graphic designers.

02. Who are you favourite designers/design-group? Do they affect your work, or how you work?

Our favourite designer is without doubt Linda van Deursen (of Mevis & Van Deursen). She was one of our teachers at the Gerrit Rietveld Academy, and after we graduated she remained a really good friend of us. Linda is such a strong figure; she really is a role model when it comes to mentality and attitude. She radiates pure energy.
Mevis & Van Deursen really serves as an example to us, an example of how to run a design studio. Staying small and independent, constantly doing strong work, being totally honest. In moments of despair, when we are depressed and feel completely exhausted, we only have to think about Mevis & Van Deursen, and we feel instantly better. The mere thought of them being around is enough.

03. What influences you in today's society?

Well, what doesn't influence us? We are very much influenced by today's society. Reading books, wandering around in the city, watching movies, going to concerts and exhibitions, hanging out with friends. We often get ideas from the most unexpected sources: watching a documentary on Discovery Channel, misreading a sign in the street, stumbling upon a forgotten text on an obscure website. We are really gatherers of ideas, of impressions. We spend hours just thinking, watching, observing.

04. Being a well-known design company I assume you get a lot of job offers, what makes you decide which brief to work with?

First of all, there's a category of assignments that we turn down immediately, for personal reasons. For example, as two of us are longtime vegetarians, we don't want to work on projects related to the meat industry. This is quite a small category, but still, it happens. To give two examples, we once turned down an assignment for a restaurant specializing in meat dishes, and we also turned down a project that involved making prints for leather wallets. Things like that. But as we already said, this is quite a small category.
Secondly, there are the assignments that we turn down because of more general reasons. For example, we simply refuse to work for advertising agencies. We want to work for the client as directly as possible, not through layers of middlemen, agents, marketeers, communication people, etc. etc. The idea of a company hiring an agency that then hires us to do the assignment... we really dislike that. You sometimes hear absurd examples, of companies hiring consultants hiring agencies hiring studios hiring individual designers... It's just madness. That's one of the main reasons why we would never work for advertising agencies.
Thirdly, we aren't too fond of competitions (so-called 'pitches'). When people ask us to participate in a pitch, we reply with a standard mail in which we politely explain why we find the whole concept of turning design assignments into competitions very problematic. The world is competitive enough as it is; why turn design into a competition as well?

So, the three categories mentioned above are the assignments that usually get rejected almost immediately. But that still leaves us with a lot of other assignments to choose from. And this is sometimes very difficult indeed. It's a big gamble, actually.
Sometimes you have the impression that a certain client is nice to work with, so you accept the assignment, only to realize that your guess was totally wrong, leaving you in a nightmare of an assignment. Sometimes you accept an assignment you don't expect a lot from, and it turns out the best project ever. Sometimes you have to turn down a fabulous assignment, just because you are very busy working on some other assignments. Things like that.

So it's all a matter of judgment, timing and luck really. You sometimes have to decide very quickly. We made some really stupid choices in the past, turning down important assignments only because we were working on silly projects that actually went nowhere. We aren't really smart when it comes to strategic decisions we guess. But this clumsiness is a big part of who we are, so we don't really regret anything.

05. You have been associated with the band Sonic Youth, and other music genres, what music are you listening to now?

Sonic Youth is absolutely one of our favourite bands, but the only way in which we are related to them is the fact that we named our studio after one of their albums, 'Experimental Jet Set, Trash and No Star' (1994). And to be honest, it isn't really our favourite Sonic Youth album. That would probably be 'Daydream Nation', although we certainly like the older albums ('Bad Moon Rising', 'Evol', 'Sister', etc.), and we absolutely love 'Goo' and 'Dirty' (the SY 'pop' albums, so to speak).

There's a funny anecdote attached to 'Experimental Jetset'. We actually wanted to name our studio 'International Jetset', after a song by The Specials. But when we wanted to register our name at the Chamber of Commerce, they told us they wouldn't accept 'International Jetset', as it was too vague, not specific enough. So we then switched to 'Experimental Jetset', which turned out to be specific enough for the Chamber of Commerce.

As for music we are currently listening to... A lot of different stuff really. From classic Sixties acts (Beach Boys, Love, Harry Nilsson) to Tropicalia (Os Mutantes, Gilberto Gil, Caetano Veloso), from early Electronica (Silver Apples, White Noise) to Dutch Beat (The Outsiders, Het, Q65), from Sunshine Pop (The Association, Millennium, Sagittarius) to more contemporary bands (Yo La Tengo, Tortoise, The Make-Up).
One band we revisit again and again are The Zombies. There are days that we listen to all their records continuously, back to back. We also love all the post-Zombies stuff (Argent, Neil MacArthur). Listening to The Zombies is such a soothing experience. Their music is like honey dripping on soft velvet. We actually (and foolishly) believe that listening to The Zombies is good for your health. When your brain is hurting really bad, this music simply massages your mind.

The band name, The Zombies, is intriguing in itself. The zombie is an fascinating phenomenon, a subject that also pops up in graphic design from time to time. In the mid-90s, 'Zombie Modernism' was an actual insult, used by some American design critics to describe the renewed interest in modernism. While we actually think the word 'zombie' is not insulting at all.
In the 80s, a lot of our favourite bands (The Cramps, The Meteors) used zombie imagery in their lyrics, and there was this fabulous series of Sixties garage rock compilations, called 'Back From the Grave', that featured zombies on the record sleeves. On top of that, as we wrote earlier, our favourite Sixties band was actually called The Zombies. So when this phrase, 'Zombie Modernism', suddenly reared its ugly head, we were not upset at all. In fact, it sounded almost flattering. The idea of the zombie, something that will not die, that will keep haunting contemporary society, it's quite interesting really. When we think of it now, there's an intriguing link between the zombie phenomenon, and the whole idea of 'hauntology', a concept developed by Derrida to describe 'the ghost of the past'. In other words, we think of 'Zombie Modernism' as a compliment rather than an insult.

06. Do you make time to work with personal projects?

All our projects are personal. So to answer your question: we spend literally all our time on personal projects.

07. What is the difference when working on a personal project, rather than on a client-based project?

We don't make a distinction between personal projects and client-based ones.
True, every project involves certain criteria, certain outside forces: technical specifications, budgetary limitations, physical boundaries, the given context, an existing situation, the question whether or not there is a client involved, all kinds of deadlines, agreements, contracts, expectations, you name it. There are always criteria. But the way we deal with these criteria is ALWAYS personal.
And in our opinion, this goes for any trade, discipline or medium. Whether you are a writer, painter, designer, cook or plumber, you always have to deal with certain criteria, with forces from the outside. But dealing with those criteria is always a matter of personal decisions, of individual choices. That makes every project a personal project, and also a creative one.
Whether or not there is a client involved is just one of the thousands of criteria you have to deal with. In the totality of things, it's not even that important. To make a division of work based on whether the project was client-based or not, is the same as making a division of work based on whether the design was created in the morning or in the afternoon. It's not a very interesting division. Or at least, not a division that says anything about the degree in which the work is personal. Because there simply are no degrees of personality.

We have the same problem with the way some people use the word 'self-initiated', because, as we see it, all projects are self-initiated.
The moment you say 'yes' to an assignment, the assignment automatically becomes a self-initiated project. The decision to deal with particular clients, particular restrictions, particular limitations; that decision is ultimately an artistic decision. You make the choice yourself to say 'yes' to an assignment, and thus, the project is self-initiated. Whether the project involves a client or not.

All projects being equally personal – for us, this notion has a lot to do with what Sartre wrote about freedom. "Either man is wholly determined (which is inadmissible, especially because a determined consciousness, a consciousness externally motivated, becomes pure exteriority and ceases to be consciousness) or else man is wholly free". So, according to Sartre, you are either completely determined by outside forces (in other words, totally unfree), or you are wholly free. And since Sartre believed that it is impossible (for a conscious human being) to be completely determined by outside forces, his conclusion is that man is fully free.
In the same way, we think that either all projects are wholly personal, or all projects are wholly non-personal. And since we regard the idea of a wholly non-personal project as an impossibility, our conclusion is that all projects are wholly personal.

Sometimes people ask us whether we make our work for others, or for ourselves. Another distinction we don't really believe in. We are part of society, and society is part of us. If we do something for ourselves it will affect society, and if we make something for others it will affect us. It is one and the same.
Why this distinction between the personal and the societal, the idea that work is either self-expression or a service to society? We really don't understand it. In our view, self-expression is a service to society, and serving society is a form of self-expression. It's as simple as that.
We really think it's worthwhile to investigate alternative models, to question the classic dichotomy of self-expression and servitude.

We think that this tendency among some designers, to make this false distinction between personal and client-based work, is symptomatic for the society we live in, a society in which a strong distinction is being made between manual labour and intellectual labour. It's a division of labour that causes a great deal of alienation, frustration and stress. In the way we look at the world, we try to overcome this division, by constantly reminding ourselves that all manual labour has an intellectual potential, and all intellectual labour has a manual potential. In other words, in our view, baking a bread is an intellectual activity in the same way that writing a book is a manual activity. In our own way of working, we certainly try to investigate this concept of 'praxis', the synthesis of theory and practice in which each informs the other. Thinking as a way of making, and making as a way of thinking.
The plumber as a writer, the artist as a designer, the carpenter as a philosopher. All human activity as a platform for creativity. As Joseph Beuys said, "Jeder Mensch ein Künstler".

Trying to overcome all these false dichotomies plays a large role in our work. In our designs, we usually refer to the language of late-modernism, a language that is often seen as a purely functional, instrumental aesthetic. By using this language in a more personal way, we certainly try to dissolve the borders between the personal and the societal, between self-expression and servitude. In that sense, it is a purely modernist ideal we are pursuing: the synthesis of art and the everyday.

08. How did Experimental Jetset become a worldwide successful company?
Are we really that successful? Two years ago, we answered a similar question in an interview for the French graphic design magazine Marie Louise (published by Editions F7). This was our answer:

"We don't feel particularly successful. We have no money at all, while we are completely overworked. Most of the time we feel quite miserable because of the constant stress we have to deal with. There's only a handful of people that really likes our work. We fully realize that we are just a very tiny footnote in the history of graphic design.
The only thing that keeps us going is the feeling that, because of our combined influences, opinions and ideas, we represent a point of view that is truly ours. A point of view that is different from other points of view. If we would stop, that point of view would cease to exist, which is a thought that makes us very sad. So we have to keep going, we've got no choice".


Rereading our answer, we still feel this way. Although it might come across as a bit too pessimistic. We actually like the idea of being a footnote. We were recently reading the latest issue of Ugly Things, a magazine about forgotten bands, footnotes of rock history so to speak, and suddenly we realized we will probably end up the same way. A design group that only a small group of devoted people will remember. We are okay with that.

09. What are the key elements you consider when working with a brief?

We have a very classic 'problem/solution' approach, and somehow we are convinced that the solution can often be found in the problem itself. We see it almost as a riddle, or puzzle: reading (and thus interpreting) the brief, until suddenly all the pieces fall into place.

We always liked Wittgenstein's idea that there are no real philosophical problems, that everything can be solved within language itself, like a linguistic puzzle. In the same way, we are often trying to find solutions within the language of graphic design itself.

10. How did you get involved in the Helvetica film?
We knew Gary (Hustwit, the director), through a mutual friend (Mark Owens, of design studio Life of the Mind). Gary visited us once in our studio, where we talked a bit about Plexifilm (Gary's DVD label), and hardcore punk music (Gary used to work for SST Records, a seminal independent record label). He also shortly mentioned that he wanted to make a documentary: "a rock documentary, but about typography". We never expected he would pull it off, until a year later, when he visited us with a camera man and a sound guy.

First of all, we want to say that we think Gary did a really good job. What we especially like about the movie is the way it is built-up. It's a movie that follows a clear dialectical structure: thesis, antithesis, synthesis.
In the beginning of the movie, Gary shows designers like Crouwel and Vignelli, the old-school late-modernist designers (thesis); then he shows people like David Carson and Paula Scher, people who clearly rejected this particular brand of modernism (antithesis). And then he shows designers like Norm, Build and ourselves, people who somehow try to sublimate these two conflicting positions, and are trying to find a third position (synthesis). In other words, the movie follows a logic that is very similar to our own way of thinking.

So we like the movie a lot, although we're not exactly sure about our own part in it. Somehow, we didn't manage to explain, in a few clear lines, our thoughts about Helvetica.
This is completely our own fault. Our thoughts about Helvetica are apparently too complicated (read: muddled) to verbally express it in just a few simple sentences.
As you understand, we talked with Gary for many hours, and he could only use a few minutes. So what we say in the movie is only a very small part of our complete argument.

Also, we were incredibly tired on the day of filming. And we were also really busy, that's why we decided that only one of us would answer all the questions, so that the other two could continue working. Maybe that wasn't such a good decision; in retrospect, it would have been better if all three of us would have answered Gary's questions.

What's also awkward is the fact that we're suddenly so visible. Before the movie, people didn't know which faces belonged to Experimental Jetset, and we liked it that way. We never gave magazines our portraits, or group photos. We really liked this anonymity. The movie sort of destroyed that. Suddenly people have seen our faces. We really don't like that; in fact, we find it almost disturbing.
We look so bad in the movie: our faces too big, our hair too long. And then our accent, the way we pronounce English: it's really terrible.
But as designers, we understand that the most important thing is the movie as a whole, and in the light of that, all this personal vanity stuff is completely unimportant. What counts is the result. And the result, the movie as a whole, is very good indeed.