island94.org

Since November I have been working on print layout for the Winter 2009/2010 edition of Survival News. “The voices of low-income women”, Survival News is half-yearly-ish compendium of news, personal stories, and advocacy information. Nearly half of this edition is devoted to Survival Tips, a collection of services and advice from legal aid to food programs in 3 languages (English, Spanish and Vietnamese).

At 40 tabloid-sized pages, this edition is 52 square feet of pictures and copy. Survival News has a circulation of 4,000, so altogether that’s enough newsprint to cover 1/3 of Boston’s tallest skyscraper, the John Hancock Building: papering it to the 20th floor. Not bad.

I don’t often find myself in InDesign, the layout program I used, but I still had fun with the project. Due to time and process constraints I couldn’t be as free with the design as I would have liked, but I am proud of the outcome. In keeping with the existing style and editorial demands, my goal was to normalize the ideas and voices within the text. I am sympathetic to criticism of this approach. From David Barringer in his essay “Left Wanting”, writing on the conservative design of liberal magazines:

Timid political art. Stale design. The money excuse. The market dynamic in which political speech is toned down for a presumably thin-skinned public. Artistic cowardice masquerading as commercial sensibility. These are the charges, but what is the role of design in political magazines? Is it to perpetuate a stylistic template? To signify stability?

…

“Design is order, economy, teaching people beauty, creating individuals,” says [Mirko] Ilic [designer for the Village Voice]. “Good design is subversive. And because it’s subversive, good design is left wing.”

If I do the next edition, I hope to be able to spend more time on good design.

From David Barringer’s “Myths of the Self-Taught Designer” in his book of essays and more, There’s Nothing Funny about Design (and available online in parts 1, 2 and 3).

Designed as a dialogue, this piece is, as Barringer says, “a hybrid mess of a literary shenanigan, inspired by the dialogues of the philosopher Denis Diderot (1713-1784). If you think I took the conversation too far, see Diderot’s Jacques the Fatalist (1782).”

Jumping in…

Ego: So, to sum up, anyone with the intent to design can claim to be a graphic designer in our messy age of design pluralism. You don’t need the degree, the tools, the status, the employer, or even a client. You certainly don’t need to be good or even competent. You just need the intent. So what is at stake, and for whom, in defining the identity of the designer? Credentials are one way to define identity, and credentials matter to some. They signify to potential employers; signify less to potential clients; and always make our mothers proud. But what is at stake for the individual designer? I think that’s where we need to go next.

Devil: I agree. Design pluralism recognizes the diversity of individuals working in some measure in a field we’ve agreed to call graphic design, itself a broad category, its membrane permeable enough to absorb the practitioners of the year’s latest digital arts. Together, this pluralism and the attendant technological advances that impact the practice of graphic design disturb the discipline and unsettle the individual. In a steady profession and stable economy—

Ego: Both concepts being theoretical— 

Devil: Many are content to let their jobs define them. Who am I? I am my job. But graphic design is not a steady profession, and the economy is not stable. Uncertainty is the order of the day. Undeterred, people may cling to a mere skill set as an indicator of who they are, defining themselves in ever more narrow and conditional terms. In a moral panic, a designer might crave the next seminar in web design as if it were a personality upgrade, the next slogan from the best-selling business pundit as if it were a reprieve from a death sentence. Why? Because today’s skill set is tomorrow’s software template. And today’s job is tomorrow’s downsized nod to the stockholders. 

Ego: So this is why self-definition is so urgent and infuriating. The economic is personal. Who you are today may not even be who you are tomorrow. 

Devil: I’m an expert in Pagemaker. I mean, Quark. Oops, InDesign. Flash. No, wait, I’m a problem-solver! A branding consultant! A, a. . . . 

Ego: In this environment, you are not saved by what you know. 

Devil: What you know is only what you knew. And that’s why it feels, to me, like there is no such thing as art or design, jobs or retirement. There is only the work that you do and the you who is doing it. What is at stake in all this is the individual designer’s self-definition. 

Ego: And let me guess. What we are dismantling here is the overarching myth of the self-taught, which is that the label of being self-taught no longer functions as a meaningful symbol of the designer’s identity, whether as a romantic symbol or a derogatory one. Regarding yourself as self-taught, as a self-motivated learner, as you said before, is more and more coming to be an essential component of that self-definition, no matter what kind of graphic designer you are. 

Devil: Did I say that?

The section of the book that includes this is entitled “Design is a hug at a distance”.

Interesting explanation about the traditional layout of the Talmud. From Andrew on the Marks and Meaning mailing list

I’m reminded as you discuss this of the arrangement of texts in a traditional manuscript copy of the Talmud. Most printed copies are a bit different, but originally a Talmud page was divided into nine squares like a tic-tac-toe grid. Sometimes the central box was further subdivided, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

The central box served as the location of the primary text to be analyzed in the original Hebrew — usually it was a Torah or Haftorah portion. The boxes to the left and right were explanations of the vowel-pointing for this piece of text; in other words, they were commentaries on what the Hebrew ./meant./ — what actual words were in play here, along with a brief definition of unusual or rare words. The boxes above and below the main text were set up to act as containers for alternate versions of the story, or stories that played off of elements in the center box.

The four corner pieces were commentaries on the main text from Rabbis Hillel, Gamaliel, and the other two — eminent masters riffing jazz- like off of the core beat at the center, or arguing the left-right interpretations, or further explicating the up-down side-stories.

All of the boxes — ALL — would shift size on the page to accommodate all the various elements. If there was a long commentary from one of the rabbis but little else, that box would expand, and the Torah portion would shrink until it was only the verse, or even the word, relevant to that commentary. Conversely, (though it didn’t happen often), if there were a long story in the Torah with little commentary, several verses would get squeezed into one large box, with eight small and almost empty boxes circling it.

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The point was, there were nine books crammed into one. Hillel always occupied the same square on the page. The Babylonian Haggadah (stories) was always above the Torah, the Palestinian Haggadah always below. You could read one commentator exclusively, or read the Torah or Haftorah exclusively, or try to read all the commentaries on all of Torah simultaneously.

Ed also posted some more visual links:

An annotated page:

http://www.ucalgary.ca/~elsegal/TalmudPage.html

Talmud style layout in HTML (with fixed size boxes, so not precisely)

http://www.ucalgary.ca/~elsegal/TalmudMap/Samples.html

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I was having a talk today with Danielle about this proposal on “Open Source Engagement” on Milla Digitalia. Mostly I was being critical of the manner in which the authors sling around “open source”.

But back to Danielle, and the analogy. The fallacy of that proposal is that the authors are confusing design and process. The argument, as I can tell, is that Wikipedia and Open Source Software Development (like Linux) work a certain, so they will design their Project to work that way too (when I say “work”, I am intentionally being vague as to whether I mean design or process).

So here is the analogy:

Wikipedia/OSS are like buildings (Danielle is in an Urban Planning Program). They are designed to have as many doors as possible. All over the place. And it just so happens that people really like using the front door and the door into the kitchen, and mostly ignore the other doors.

Now, in this proposal, they make this argument: We’ve learned from Wikipedia/OSS that front doors and kitchen doors really work great, so we’re going to design our project to have a front door and a kitchen door just like they do.

My soapbox: Wikipedia/OSS work because they are designed to allow flexibility in how people interact with them. This has allowed the processes of interaction to evolve into what works best in that situation. Designing a project and limiting how people interact with it to inflexibly use a process that has evolved elsewhere will most likely not give the best results.

Of course, now that I’ve reread the proposal a couple times, I feel like I’m maybe being too harsh, but I don’t think the proposal is very clear with their Legitimacy Exchange.

I’m currently helping out a small group of Digital Storytellers in the process of designing and launching a new community website. We put the project out as a Request for Proposals (RFP) and are now working with a webdeveloper. As a webdeveloper myself, I’ve learned a lot about the process from the other side.

For all of my development projects I’ve worked with people I know or on projects in which I have some stake or significant interest. Because of this, my process has usually been us all sitting around the kitchen table drawing pen and paper workflows and mockups till the wee hours. I’ve never formally responded to an RFP and usually invest myself in mapping out the who, what and whys before even getting into the hows.

With that said, I was surprised to see that so many of the development proposals included a logo design process, usually as the first milestone. We are an ad-hoc group across several organizations without an existing identity, so I understand the need for a logo. Of course, most groups may already have an identity so the logo design itself may not be needed, but the thought and process that goes into it is.

Without getting into why logos are important

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I tried to condense what we are getting out of the process The Searchers movie :

• A better definition of the project: For an iconic logo (as we’re receiving) it should somehow reflect a meaning or message about the project. An outside developer may not have a complete picture of what the client hopes to achieve. The client may not have fully defined the audience or objectives, even to themselves.
• Discovering if the developer and client’s design tastes match: It’s always good to know that people are on the same page, especially for a relatively simple thing like a logo. If the developer is returning vogue and the client is looking for something more timeless, it’s good to determine and remedy this early.
• Testing the decision making process: If decisions are made by more than one person (as they usually are), knowing from the beginning how the group will interact is important. Will decisions be made by consensus or will one person ultimately have executive power? Who is participating and giving feedback and who needs a little nudge?

A good developer should drop a finished design in your lap without input along the way. But concentrating on something simple like a logo (or color-scheme or stylesheet) as an early step can help better define the project and how participants interact around it.

Island94.org has undergone some revision today; I hope you noticed. I upgraded Drupal to 4.7 and rethemed the site.

Drupal 4.7 adds a lot of really great features, the main one, from a ‘nifty’ perspective is free tagging. This gives a lot more granularity to organizing posts. There is also a lot of nice stuff under the hood. I had been a little lax in upgrading my old Drupal install, so the upgrade also fixes a couple of security issues as well.

The theme is a major change from the old design. I had really liked the woodcut motif that I grabbed from Mark Twain’s Life on the Mississippi but it was starting to show its age. Also, looking under the hood I was always reminded of my own inexperience at the time I put it together.

With the new theme I had a couple of things in mind:

First off, I really wanted to better separate posts of a personal nature, from that of a professional or fictional nature. I’m fairly prodigious in creating media, it’s mostly a matter of audience. I don’t want some boss reading a slasher tale thinking I’m a psychopath, or my mom reading halfway through some technical post to realize she doesn’t care. I’m really excited about the hats theme, not only are they simply beautiful, but they help to quickly convey what overall category the post falls into.

Secondly, Drupal’s the standard interface is beautiful and intuitive, but when a couple thousand websites start using it, it has become a little rusty. Much of my time in designing Drupal sites is making sure it doesn’t look like Drupal.

Lastly, I really wanted to fool around with some soft gradients and big bubbly icons. I’ve been pulling from theOpen Clip Art Library for the most part and using Inkscape and Gimpshop for editing.

I hope that my new theme is both easy to use and beautiful. At the moment, I’ve pretty much given up on Internet Explorer compatibility. Maybe something to do later, but frankly, I am a little tired of dealing with its nonstandard quirks.

I started work on the design yesterday morning using Luka Cvrk’s Small Studio as a base, and considering I didn’t get a vacation day today (it is Monday, July 3rd), I am happy with the result. I hope you are as well.

Lately I’ve been spending more time than I should with a great free/open source software illustration program: Inkscape.

Before I get to far into an explanation of the fun and wonder I have with Inkscape let me make a little caveat. I’ve used Adobe Illustrator in the past and never liked it much; I admit though that I never really knew how to use it well.

With Inkscape–it’s available for Windows, Mac and Linux–I am very quickly and easily recreate the simple doodles I make during staff meetings. The tools ar quite simple and with a little bit of practice you’ll be making smooth shapes, clean gradients and surprisingly nice art. Seriously.

Inkscape is a vector drawing program, which means that you are creating basic shapes, and then deforming the shapes themselves mathematically. This is different from raster or bitmap drawing programs like MS Paint, Photoshop or The GIMP, in which you are modifying pixels. What the hell am I talking about? Basically, if you’ve ever tried to enlarge a image in Photoshop and had it turn into a grainy mess, you won’t have this program with drawings made and enlarged in Inkscape.

Another plus of Inkscape is that there are lots of great Public Domain/Creative Common graphics on the internet in Inkscape’s native format: SVG. This is doubly cool because once you get your mind around the idea that these graphics can be scaled and still look great, it’s no trouble at all to make ants eating houses or whatever scale destructing things strike your fancy. All with no blocks or jagged edges in sight.

I included an image I’ve recently done below. The graphic of the videocassette is public domain that I got from openclipart.com.