Category Archives: Observation

When an idea goes off the rails

Posted on by
1

Not far from where I live there is a talking pedestrian crossing. I guess it was given a voice in response to people getting flattened by buses or something. As it happens, somebody has uploaded an audio recording to this miraculous and ridiculous thing we take for granted as the internet, so rather than explain further I can simply invite you to listen here.

I remember seeing this road safety initiative announced in the local paper when it was introduced a few years ago. Instead of using the default, authoritative female voice used on others of its kind, to raise public awareness at this particular crossing they’d enlisted a local celebrity to record the message. Did you recognise the voice from the recording?

That’s right, it’s Ozzie the Owl, the mascot of the local football team.

Here follows a transcript of the exact conversation in the local council office that led to this decision, as I imagine it in my head:

– Julie’s told me to find a local Hillsborough celebrity for this traffic light thing. Any ideas?
– Pardon?
– I’ve got to find a local celebrity to record this traffic light safety thing in Hillsborough. I’m thinking that guy from that police thing? The one who was in Aliens?
– Eh?
– Big black guy, got that funny name. Karry, Karaoke something.
– Kele Okereke?
– That’s him.
– You mean Bloc Party front man Kele Okereke?
– No, not him. You know who I mean, the guy in that new Aliens film and on that show, the boxsets, he’s got that funny name.
– Prometheus? The Wire? Idris Elba?
– Idris Elba, that’s him. What about him?
– You want to get Idris Elba to record the voice for a pedestrian crossing in Hillsborough?
– Yeah. He’s from Sheffield.
– No. Dominic West, also of The Wire, he’s from Sheffield.
– Where’s Idris Elba from then?
– I don’t know.
– Well what about this other bloke then? Think he’ll be up for it?
– Dominic West?
– Yeah.
– Do I think The Wire’s Dominic West will be up for recording a traffic light message in Hillsborough?
– Yeah, why not?
– Why not? Many reasons… I thought you were looking for somebody from Hillsborough.
– Yeah.
– He’s from Sheffield.
– Not Hillsborough?
– How do I know?
– Good point. Okay. Erm. Sheffield. Sheffield. Famous Sheffielders…
– Hillsborough! You’re looking for famous Hillsborough people!
– Oh yeah. Hillsborough. Hillsborough. Hillsborough park. Hillsborough… library.
– Hillsborough library? Who? What celebrity? That’s a thing, not a celebrity.
– Hillsborough. Hillsborough Leisure Centre?
– You’re just saying things in Hillsborough! What do you mean Hillsborough Leisure Centre?
– Leisure centre.
– That’s a thing! A leisure centre is not a celebrity.
– The boss or somat.
– The boss of the leisure centre? The boss of Hillsborough Leisure Centre?
– Yeah.
– Is a celebrity?
– Kind of.
– What’s his name?
– …
– So he’s not a celebrity is he!
– Jessica Ennis! She’s a celebrity. She’d be good. Is she from Hillsborough?
– No.
– …
– Look, the only person I can think of, and technically he lives in Stannington but it’s as close as I think you’re going to get, is Bobby Knutt.
– Who’s that?
– Bobby Knutt. Eyup Knutty? The pantomime guy. Never see him at the Crucible when you were a kid?
– Which pantomime?
– All of them. Eyup Knutty. Moustache, curly hair. I’ve seen a picture of him some- there look, poster, Puss In Boots.
– Bobby Knutt? Is that who that is? Didn’t know he did pantomimes. Thought he only did science programmes and that?
– No… no, I think that’s Dr Robert Winston. They do look similar actually, I’ll grant you. But no, quite different men.
– And he’s from Stannington?
– Bobby Knutt is, yes. He lives there, or he used to. Don’t know if he’s from there. He’s local though.
– Where’s Dr Robert Winston from?
– Irrelevant.
– We need somebody from Hillsborough though.
– Yeah… I know. But as I said, he’s as good as you’re gonna-
– WEDNESDAY!
– Wednesday? What?
– Of course. Can’t believe we’ve forgot Wednesday. Sheffield Wednesday. SWFC. A player from Sheffield Wednesday! We can use one of them. Yeah!
– Well, yeah, hang on. Are any of them actually from Hillsborough?
– Probably. I don’t know.
– Chances are very few, if any, are actually from around here. They might play here, and live here, but they’re not from here.
– The manager then?
– Again, probably moves around a lot. And he’s not exactly a celebrity either.
– Well, there’s got to be someone. SWFC’s famous.
– The only thing that’s permanent is the mascot, the Owl.
– Ozzie the Owl!
– Yeah, but obviously-
– Perfect, yeah! Ozzie the Owl. Of course!
– Well no, cos he’s jus-
– We’ll get him, he’ll do it.
– Yeah, but… he’s just a bloke in a suit.
– Yeah, we’ll get him to record it.
– Yeah, but then it’s just a bloke.
– He can do it in the suit.
– Yeah, but it’s… it’s a recording.
– It’s still Ozzie the Owl though.
– Well, Ozzie the Owl doesn’t… it’s not real is it, it’s just a suit.
– It’ll be reyt, he can record it in the suit can’t he.
– Yeah… but… it’s just a man’s voice. It’ll just be a man’s voice. It’s probably not even the same man who does it every week.
– It’s fine, it’s perfect. Famous, celebrity, local, famous footballer.
– He’s not a footballer. He’s the mascot. Just a bloke.
– It’s fine. I’ll tell Julie now, tell her what you think.
– No… hang on… I don’t-
– It’s perfect! I knew you’d be able to think of someone.
– I didn’t, I haven’t. It’s just a bloke.
– Julie, we’ve decided who it should be.
– No… Not we. It’s just a bloke.
– Ozzie the Owl. Yeah, I know, perfect!
– It’ll just be a bloke’s voice…

Volunteering Design Doesn’t Work

Posted on by
1

The time rich designer is able to offer a service for free to a deserving cause. There are out there many worthwhile projects very deserving of such services, and it doesn’t take long to find one you believe in. Indeed, your offer of help will likely be welcomed with open arms.

And soon enough you’ll be the least popular person at the table. Here’s why.

Typically the designer first has to work with a group to identify the desired outcome. This always goes great because it’s a conversation about ambition, optimism and affirmation.

The problems begin during the next step, when the designer begins to work backwards from that desired outcome in order to find the solution. Unfortunately, the solution might not be what people want to hear. In fact it’s almost guaranteed not to be, when one considers the reality that most things worth doing don’t come easy.

Designers – at least those who consider their remit to extend beyond the realm of decoration – have to accept the likelihood that certain aspects of the input they offer will be unpopular with the client. A designer exists to solve problems, and in order for problems to be solved they must first be identified. So for a while the job is to find fault, and no matter how tactfully it’s done, nobody likes having their faults picked out.

There’s something compounding this problem.

Volunteer-run projects unfortunately have a double mandate. Firstly, they have their core aims as stipulated in their constitution. Secondly, they have an unofficial, unspoken role to play. They have to provide satisfaction for those running the show.

In my experience to date, it seems this second unofficial role can very easily become the dominating one. It can become more important that a project’s activities satisfy the egos and desires of the team behind it, rather than satisfying the stated aims and objectives they’re all supposedly there to achieve.

Paid employees have a regular paycheque ensuring they do their job even when they hate it, but volunteering has to be rewarding. The volunteer has to be satisfied by what they do, otherwise they’ll just walk. So volunteers are often motivated by the process rather than the result. The designer – necessarily focussed on the result – is likely to suggest things that will have an effect on that process. These suggestions can therefore go down very badly indeed, and will likely be met with fierce resistance.

Ordinarily the designer should be able to justify their position, their methods and suggestions. They are after all based only on the facts. But in the voluntary world where money plays no part, this is extremely difficult because people are typically only able to see the value in that which either suits them or they’re somehow invested in. Here, the designer hasn’t been paid, nor have they said anything anybody likes to hear. They’re an outsider upsetting the apple cart. They can only offer reality, and reality is worthless if the audience hasn’t paid for it and doesn’t want to hear it.

Reality is the currency of the designer, but reality doesn’t sit well with many voluntary groups, with those people giving up their precious free time for the greater good. That’s enough of a commitment for the volunteer – they don’t want to be faced with the suggestion that they’re not volunteering well enough.

As a friend said to me a while ago; “The problem with the brutal truth is that it’s brutal.” Quite rightly, nobody expects a volunteer to deal with brutality.

Contrast, Perspective

Posted on by
Reply

Last week I took a day off and went for a bike ride in the countryside. The mainly rural surroundings were briefly interrupted by a motorway intersecting my route.

The calm solitude of my activity that day was only appreciable when I stood on a seldom crossed pedestrian bridge mere metres above yet a world away from the thunderous roar below. Only when made aware of those that didn’t have the day off could I really start to appreciate that I did.

Expecting Payment For Jobs Others Gladly Do For Free

Posted on by
1

The digital camera has made us all photographers. Youtube has made us all film makers. Blogs have made us all writers. Free software has made us all desktop publishers and web designers. Twitter has made us all journalists. Cheap digital printing allows us to design our own t-shirts and print our artwork onto canvas. Garageband allows us to record and master our own music. 3D printing allows us to design and manufacture our own consumer items.

Before the age of mass manufacture we each made what we needed when we needed it. After mass manufacture, it seems we’ll be doing much the same. And the short-lived window of opportunity that has been the creative industries will be closed.

Long term there can be no money to be made doing things humans naturally want to do, because there is money to be made bringing that fun to everyone, and money is like water – eventually it finds the shortest route.

It’s also compensation. That’s the fundamental reason for money to exist, and nobody can really expect compensation for something they like doing. So perhaps the only way to earn a living in the future will be by doing things we all hate.

Look at your job. If you enjoy it there will be somebody somewhere working on a way to remove you from the equation. So you’re screwed. If however you dread getting up for work in the morning, good news – you’ll probably get to do it for ever. So you’re screwed.

It’s Because of Bad Design That Cyclists Run Red Lights

Posted on by
Reply

Tomorrow the Institute of Advanced Motorists plans to issue a press release claiming that 57% of cyclists jump red lights. It seems the rest of the world is quite rightly focussing on the harmfully inflammatory and counter-productive nature of their openly dubious claim. With that covered, I’d like to take the opportunity to say why I think cyclists ignore red lights. It’s a design issue.

Anyone automatically claiming that each and every occurrence of red light jumping is ‘dangerous’ or ‘stupid’ is being closed minded. Our world comprises infinite shades of grey yet our systems can typically only accommodate black or white. Common sense is something traffic lights can neither appreciate nor accommodate.

The sooner our road planners make proper allowances for the humans that use their systems, as opposed to treating their job as maintaining the efficiency of a large scale plumbing project of pipes, valves, volume and flow to which humans are an inconvenience, the sooner ridiculous inhuman issues like this can fizzle into irrelevance and die the death they so very deserve. There is nothing inherently dangerous in riding past a box on a stick with the bulb behind the red lens lit.

The cyclist light jumping issue isn’t the fault of cyclists – it’s the fault of a decades old design experiment that has gone badly wrong. As the existence of desire lines trampled beneath our naturally pythagorean human nature perfectly illustrates, for any system to work it must serve the needs of the user. Currently, our road network doesn’t do that very well, and it’s an issue that has only relatively recently been tackled with work like that pioneered by a design hero of mine, the late Hans Monderman.

Monderman in calmed traffic circle

Those who design systems with the idea that the end user is stupid will very quickly find their system doesn’t work. There are idiots in any situation, and the idea that our world should be built around those lowest common denominators is a fallacy. If you treat everyone as an idiot, everyone will behave like an idiot because the system encourages – nay – relies on it. Treat everyone as the intelligent human beings they overwhelmingly are, and things can actually start to work.

Common sense soon hits a glass ceiling on the current road network, above which lies illegality. Being less likely to get caught for minor and harmless transgressions on a bicycle means the humans riding them are more compelled to resort to common sense and behave naturally. Having the liability of a traceable number plate and two tonnes of metal around you prevents such natural freedom.

The main danger for the aware and alert red light jumping cyclist isn’t the actual red light jumping. It’s the retaliatory acts of jealousy and resentment by those who witness it from behind nearby steering wheels. The culture of hate and intolerance it breeds is the far greater daily threat to the cyclist. But that hate is focussed on the wrong target. Drivers shouldn’t be angry at the cyclist for making natural human progress; they should be angry that the system – to which we are all expected to adhere and the one in which they feel helplessly trapped – isn’t allowing them the same natural freedom.

Of course, every cyclist can stand patiently at every red light without any attention paid to its validity (or obvious lack thereof) merely so as not to aggravate the driver behind, but that would be letting human stupidity and ignorance dictate our group dynamic when intelligence and enlightenment is much better positioned to do the job.

I was once a member of the Institute of Advanced Motorists. In fact I was asked if I’d consider becoming an observer, to teach the System of Car Control to new recruits. Unfortunately the inherent contradictions of an organisation dedicated to using a system based on common sense and alertness within the confines of a system that so often seems to positively discourage the deployment of either quickly got the better of me and I turned my back on it.

By definition, the IAM is committed to a system proven to be entirely broken. That they’re trying to fend off the moribundity facing all motoring organisations by becoming one of the loudest voices in the increasingly relevant world of utility and transport cycling is something we should all oppose. A motorist’s approach to moving around isn’t what cycling needs.

Most people will agree that the most satisfactory systems are those that are totally intuitive, they are those that need no user manual. The current edition of the Highway Code has 152 pages.

Fund the Design Problem, Not the Design Solution

Posted on by
Reply

As I focus mainly on social and charitable sector work, many of my clients operate as registered charities and have paid for my time with grants from funding streams such as the one above. In fact that one in particular has probably been responsible for the majority of my income this past year.

To put it simply, the client decides they need the services of a designer, so they get a quote to work out how much that’s likely to cost then they submit an application to an appropriate funder for the required amount, clearly justifying why the money will be wisely invested. If the funder agrees with the cause, the proposed solution and the likelihood of success, they’ll grant the required amount with the stipulation that it must be spent on the exact thing it was requested for.

This caveat is of course necessary to prevent people asking for money for one thing then spending it on another. Quite rightly, funders must know exactly where their money is going. It’s easy to trace and quantify if the money’s been requested to pay a plumber for the morning, a week’s rental of a minibus, or a full time member of staff for three months. Unfortunately, where it starts to get problematic is with the commissioning of design.

In this instance, it’s an inherently flawed approach in that it requires the funding applicant to know exactly what they need before they can get the money to pay for it. But a design client can’t know exactly what they need. If you have a leaking pipe, twelve disenfranchised teenagers that need shuttling round the Lake District or a desk that needs manning, then the solutions will be obvious to anyone. But when commissioning design, the biggest mistake one can make is to approach a designer with a solution. Approach a designer with a problem because that’s what we’re here to tackle.

It’s not the client’s responsibility to know what they want. That’s what graphic designers are here for. If you approach your friendly local designer with a request for a three-fold leaflet, what you’ll get is a three-fold leaflet. Whether a three fold-leaflet is the right solution or not, that’s what you’ll get and nothing more. But go to them earlier, go to them with a problem that needs solving and you’ll get whatever solution is best. Chances are it’ll be something more effective than a three fold leaflet.

If you ask the client to solve the problem, typically they’ll end up settling for something they’ve seen done before. Perhaps it’s why charities – no matter how diverse – so often tend to have the same sort of literature, trot out the same kinds of stuff and do things in a certain way. Why they all provide those flat, irritating cardboard pens in their direct mailers, why the earth is currently spinning off its axis under the weight of charity collection bags and why there are so many overly sentimental ads on TV appealing for just three pounds per month to soak up the tears of this poor, poor child represented by an actor.

I’m not accusing those who run charitable organisations of being unimaginative. Far from it in fact, the people behind such endeavours are often the most imaginative and passionate people you could meet. They’re not in it for the money, let’s face it. But when it comes to solving design problems you really need a designer because that’s what we do better than anybody else. It’s what we studied, it’s how our brains are wired, what we do for a living, it’s what we’re here for.

Unfortunately, funding bodies are compelled to quantify the requests of applicants, and it’s always going to be easier for them to perceive the value of 300 flyers than it is to appreciate the value of employing a design thinker to decipher and solve a complex communication issue. So they’ll only fund a solution, not a problem.

It’s perfectly understandable, but the unfortunate result is that we designers get involved in the process way too late, long after the important decisions have been made, and we end up simply making pretty what has actually been designed already. It’s such a shame because the charitable sector can benefit hugely from design, yet all too often all it ever gets is artwork.

Looked at purely from a financial point of view, in these times of hardship when charities are facing cuts and funders are having to make difficult judgements on a daily basis, it’s vital that whatever funding is distributed is spent as wisely as possible. Expecting charities to do their own design before paying designers to do artwork really doesn’t ensure good value for money. Indeed, pay a good creative to be creative and the chances are you’ll get way more than your money’s worth.

Saturation Point

Posted on by
Reply

Surely the time has come for charities to think of a new way to raise money? Perhaps they should send out collection bag collection bags, so the public can donate all their unwanted charity collection bags to charity.

Don’t Jump

Posted on by
2

Don't jump... it's not high enough

In a recent piece I wrote for typoholic website My Type Of… I raised the rather morbid subject of designing for the suicidal.

I’ve noticed these signs on a few high bridges over the years and found myself wondering what I’d do if given the task of designing such a thing. The first time the thought occurred to me was during a touristy stroll across the Golden Gate Bridge when I was 21, and most recently came back to mind when taking a similar touristy stroll over the somewhat smaller but equally magnificent Tyne Bridge just a week ago.

Potential solutions hadn’t really gone beyond layout consideration, brief thoughts on which typefaces, colours and graphics might be enough to convince the suicidal that there’s a point to carrying on. The current solutions are after all, a bit plain, a bit anonymous and inhuman. I wonder if a black uppercase serif really is the typography to prevent potential jumpers. Maybe something a bit more informal might be more suitable? Maybe I’ve finally found a valid use for Comic Sans? I joke of course. But whatever the perfect solution might be, I really think getting there would be an interesting (if morbid) process.

With vague thoughts on the subject going round my head, it’s a sheer coincidence then that Gizmodo should run the following story; Bridge Projector Reminds Suicide Jumpers “You Are Not Alone”.

What a marvelous solution – a great example of thinking outside the box. Here I was, wondering what I might screw to the wall in place of the current signs, and here these guys simply project the message directly onto the water below. An inspired idea, a very creative solution dealing with a very difficult subject.

It really is a difficult subject isn’t it, suicide. One people will so rarely discuss. A(n obviously now ex-) colleague of mine committed suicide a few years ago, and I was amazed at how a company full of free-thinking creatives were absolutely unwilling to even mention it. Even years afterwards it remained an unspoken subject, any mere mention of his name never failing to leave a bizarre awkwardness resonating throughout the studio.

When I’ve seen the Samaritans signs on bridges I’ve thought the lack of emotion, their simple, plain and apparently unconsidered design really tells of the subject’s awkwardness. Nobody has really wanted to sit down and deal with it, to gather around a table with notepads and cups of coffee and really try to get into the heads of the target audience in the way they might brainstorm any other brief. After all, who wants to do that? Who really wants to stand on top of a bridge, staring at the black water below, contemplating their existence in the name of research? Nobody, of course. It’s totally understandable, but it’s a shame that such a serious and important subject is so rarely given the same creative attention and treatment we give everything else.

Just think how much money must be spent every single day on marketing. Consider the amount of hours we pour into dreaming up new and interesting ways to brand, advertise, market and sell superfluous consumer goods. Items like reduced-fat apple and mango triple decker caramel wafers, hotelier’s association approved five-star microfibre pillow cases, low-energy teflon coated ceramic anti-static waffle irons and Norwegian formula bluetooth-enabled Y-fronts. Surely we can spare a few of those hours, a few of those creative sparks, to dealing with more serious and very much more real issues?

If we took every marketing expert, graphic designer, copywriter, packaging designer and advertising executive off their more usual and superfluous commercial tasks and instead told them to focus on the very real problem of combatting sky-high global suicide rates, we might start to see some really good solutions, solutions of a quality and effectiveness currently so lacking.

With the creative industry’s collective mind busy with that, and thus no longer focussed on pointless, soul-destroying consumerist bullshit, perhaps the ultimate solution eventually arrived at would be to simply unscrew the signs and throw them away, because they’d no longer be needed.

Thanks to Craig Rodway for making the title image “Don’t Jump… it’s not high enough” available for public display under a Creative Commons licence.