JKR

Bad design choices don’t get much worse. In the wake of the tragic shooting of Gabrielle Giffords, and the deaths of six others, much has been made of the toxic political language that arguably inspired the gunman’s actions. The Tea Party has taken the brunt, which seems fair enough when one considers their use of symbols such as these crosshairs to flag target election battlegrounds. Giffords herself noted the dual meaning of the graphic, in relation to the one targeting her, and wondered if there would be “consequences”.

Peter Brookes cartoon from todays Times

In the wake of the violence the map was hastily pulled down from Palin’s site. Then the explanations kicked in. “No, no, not crosshairs (only a liberal softie who had never looked through a gun site could make this mistake).

Those were innocent surveyor’s markers” ran the basic argument of Tea Party supporters. This argument weakened by the image being attached to statements such as “don’t retreat, reload”. The learning – if you use overt symbolism, you cannot just change its meaning as it suits you. The irony is that this misjudged graphic has backfired, putting the issue of Palin’s credibility in the crosshairs. Think before you apply design.

The design identity of the Tea Party is in its own way as fascinating as its polar opposite, the slick and attractive Obama Hope campaign. Because the Tea Party is a grass roots organization, and against the principle of centralised control it does not have an umbrella identity.

Rather it has a multiplicity of local logos, most quite awful pieces of design (built along clichéd stars, stripes and eagles lines). Along with the badly spelt and offensive placards of the movement this sets them up for a bit of easy lampooning from seaboard sophisticates.

Incurring patronizing liberal satire is of course just how the “momma grizzlies” like it. It only goes to define the ideological divide, with Tea Party placed as simple homesteaders against a sneering highfalutin opposition. Palin’s campaign is all about the common touch, and the anti-design of her branding amplifies this perfectly – homemade and from the heart – an unvarnished and authentic image that would be the envy of any boutique new smoothie brand.

As Noel Coward said, “Extraordinary how potent cheap music is.” Palin and Co. have built an effective body of engaging iconography by purposefully not going for design quality. They now have a powerful brand. But (back to the crosshairs), with power must come responsibility.

The UK series of The Apprentice concluded on Sunday night with a competition to “create, package, advertise and pitch to industry experts a new premium spirit drink”. In three days. The Apprentice is obviously entertainment rather than anything to do with reality, and the challenge offered up plenty of potential cringeworthy fun. But before settling in for a bout of yelling at the TV, I wondered what my solution would have been. Having worked on the design and strategy of drinks for two decades, I doubt I would have made much of a fist of the challenge. A design in three days is a push (I knocked out the concept for Jaques Cidre in an afternoon, but that was to a proposition so clear it virtually designed itself). Three days for a pitch is ok if you have your strategy fixed. And obviously the ad was always going to fall short. But, even with plenty of experience, achieving all four elements of the task on time was going to produce average results at best.

So while neither design was particularly fab, in fairness, neither was entirely without merit. Chris came up with a pyramid shaped number, called it “Prism”, and related this to a drink of three ingredients. It looked like a novelty prize, but it did have a singular line of thought from product to name to pack.

Stella produced a “bourbon with a modern twist” and called it “Urbon”. While Lord Sugar described it as looking (and tasting) like a fancy vinegar, for me it was the better piece of work, because it had the confidence to only subvert the packaging conventions of the category (while Chris was giving us a new drink, in an odd bottle, with a zany name). A general adage of drink innovation is to retain some familiarity to the category, so that the new product has some implicit credibility.

Anyway, neither was a shocker. But it is a shame that design is typically featured in such shows as something a Mac monkey will knock out over night, working in a manner that recalls a police artist sketching while the marketing bod pours out ideas in a stream of consciousness. Not the best way to have our industry portrayed on show after show.

Sometime around the mid nineties comedy became “the new rock’n’roll”. But aspirant stand ups seem to differ from bands in one major respect. Before most bands have played their first gig, most have been at work designing their own logo. Part of the fantasy that sustains them through the due paying times is the idea that one day their band’s name will be biro-ed on a million teenagers’ pencil cases.

Comedians, conversely, seem happy to all share the same typeface. Currently, this is a larger than life bold sans serif. I wonder, is it intended to echo “top billing” headline acts typography from playbills? For sure in the UK the popularity of Live at the Apollo seems to have had some kind of influence, with every act now set in the context of similarly monumental words.

When one stops to think about it, the convention is bizarre – every act coming onto a stage to perform in front of really big theatre flats of their name. But, given the amount of competing acts, perhaps it makes sense for everyone to visually suggest that they are in the premier league, and this is the easiest way to signify it.

Presumably the general lack of design distinctiveness is less down to the various acts idiosyncrasies and more due to their regular DVD releases being part of a production line industry. Still, is it really so hard to pick a less generic type style?

Against a blanket industry approach where every brand and its dog claims to be producing ‘iconic’  design, Nike’s “Destroy to Create” campaign takes things in the opposite direction. Iconoclasm (my definition of this strategy, not Nike’s) involves the deliberate destruction of symbols, so allowing for the creation of new and more vital alternatives. The Nike campaign plays with this edgy idea, but then (for me) fails to deliver on the set up.

Mean and moody typography aside, the bottom of the manifesto says it all: “Join NSW (Nike Sports wear) to celebrate an icon”. True to this message the actual products being sold around the idea include a graphite version of a standard Air shoe and a pricey customised Letterman jacket which has a touch of the Sons of Anarchy to it. All of this timed to coincide the launch with “Black Friday”, the day after Thanksgiving when everyone goes shopping. Hardly the thinking of a true destroyer one cannot help but feel.

Perhaps it’s hoping for too much (or is indicative of a limited personal horizon) to expect that a boldly stated philosophy is carried through into a full blooded marketing campaign. But this does seem like another example of a brand trumpeting “creativity” whilst delivering something very strategic but creatively ordinary. One thought would be that if you are going to destroy, what you build from the rubble should be a marked improvement or significant development, not just a shoe in a new fabric. Hyperbole can only take an idea so far – ultimately the design has to deliver on the promise. Am I being unfair?

On top of many hellish flight experiences, I have a new reason to dislike Michael O’Leary. Having long flattered myself that I am in possession of a world view that is two parts urbane, one part liberal,  my feelings on seeing his “Girls of Ryanair” calendar 2011 reveal me to actually be a closet Millie Tant.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but to me this calendar feels exploitative because it looks so tacky. This is no reflection on the ladies game enough to pose – it’s the marketing and art direction which send a shudder down my spine. The calendar comes (of course) with the get-out clause of all being for charity. But it obviously carries side benefits in free publicity for the brand, and promotes its stewardesses as sexy.

But this is a design blog, not a social studies one. On a design level it is to Virgin Atlantic publicity what the Unipart calendar used to be to Pirelli – e.g the white van man version. I think it’s the slightly grim set of the design which disturbs – Big D nuts take a similarly unpretentious line (in keeping with their brand), but keep it cheerful as well as cheap. For foreign readers, Big D sell bags of nuts in pubs. The nuts are hung on a poster of a girl who is slowly revealed as more packs are purchased. I am suddenly aware of how weird that reads. All pretty basic and un-reconstruced branding – however, when Big D out-charm you, it’s time to think on.

Personally, I am guilty of double standards – The Virgin ads are just as brazen an exploitation of their staffs’ sex appeal to sell the brand. But somehow Virgin impress rather than depress me with the tactic. I guess a big budget, great art direction, professional models, and a knowing nod to Maurice Binders titles for James Bond might play a part. All in all, there is enough sheen in the Virgin work to make the communication feel “knowing” or “playful” where the Ryanair calendar just feels a bit functional and top shelf.

And then again, one has to hand it to Ryanair. They don’t even try to dress themselves up in aspirational design. What you see is what you get. And the calendar is exactly the design one would expect from the brand. Straightforward, no-nonsense, and not particularly uplifting. But on brand none the less.