Another interview

Here is an interview I gave to Eric Karjaluoto from ideasonideas. You can read it below.

EK: Thanks for joining us today Erik. At smashLAB we’ve often admired your work. Needless to say, we’re happy that you are joining us for this little interview. I have certainly struggled with the sometimes divergent demands of running a design studio and working within it, and I believe that many of our readers have likely experienced the same. As such I’d be interested to hear about what you’ve learned, and how you run SpiekermannPartners.
It strikes me that you truly love design. As such, I wonder why you invest so much time in a business. Wouldn’t it be more enjoyable to downsize, hire a couple of assistants and have more time to do the work itself?
ES: I tried that when I left MetaDesign in 2000. But clients either thought I was still with that company 5 years later, or they thought I was too expensive for smaller projects, or they didn’t want to insult me by offering small projects. I would have been very happy designing book covers and other small stuff in an office with 2 or 3 people. But soon after I set up on my own with Susanna, my wife, I got enquiries from big companies again and had to hire other designers…
 
EK: Some describe me as a workaholic. When my wife and I moved in together this created some challenges. You seem to always be working and rarely are in one place for any length of time. (The other day I noticed that you post your itinerary in your email signature.) In light of these demands, how do you make time for those you love? Additionally, do you have any tips for those struggling to manage their time better?
ES: I have a bad history of neglecting my private life. One of the main reasons my first wife divorced me was the fact that business always took precedence over anything else. I have often had to leave her and my son in the middle of a vacation and go to see a client. In the end, I didn’t even have vacations anymore. Today I actually cancelled a trip to Korea to see the complete senior management of a big client there because my son and my grandson will be visiting me during that week. This is the first time I’ve ever done that, and we may lose the contract.
 
EK: Your firm has groups working in different locations across the globe, which would seem difficult to manage. Can you tell me a little about the how you track projects? Do you employ any software or project management systems that make this easier?
ES: We have a pretty good extranet and very efficient servers. We can log onto our VPN from anywhere with a fast connection and work off the servers. But it still needs people contact, both with clients and amongst each other. That’s why I travel so much.
 
EK: Budgets seem like a universally difficult topic for designers. I believe that the (often inaccurate) perception of design as “close to art” makes us squeamish when talking about money. If a company came to you needing a corporate identity system and website, what kind of ballpark budgets could they expect to find?
ES: Anything from 60k to 500k. If I write a proposal, clients will argue money with me, using that “artist” argument. So I get all the proposals written by project managers, and they get away with 30% more than I would. Amazing.
 
EK: What mistakes did you make at MetaDesign and how have they shaped how you run SpiekermannPartners?
ES: Too many to count. I certainly gave too much power to my new partners who had no experience in the business. I also didn’t always communicate what I was doing, why I was away so much or why a certain conference or presentation was important. In the end, they thought all I did was look after my hobbies. Now that I’m gone, Meta survives mainly because it’s a big brand. Maybe some people have finally understood what it takes to build a big design brand.
 
EK: The last time I checked, your firm was at 40 members and growing. How do you ensure the quality of work remains consistent? Additionally, how much “Erik Spiekermann” do clients get when they hire SpiekermannPartners?
ES: We’re not quite that many, but almost. Clients get my initial input and my involvement all the time. I am very quick to understand the issues and I am also pretty good about delegating the design work after we have identified the way to go. I look at all the presentation, and I usually present the most important phases myself. But the main thing is to hire good people who are better at some things than I am. And you have to understand that delegating means giving up. You cannot let a team work on a project for weeks without ever seeing what they’re up to and then, at the end, tell them that their work sucks. My former partner used to do that, and in the end, nobody wanted to work with her anymore.
 
EK: How do you illustrate the value of SpiekermannPartners design solutions to clients? Or, does your recognition in the community allow you to tap into a client-base that is already aware of such value?
ES: No. You always have to tell the same story. Especially when you won’t do pitches. We never do unpaid creative work, but sometimes it takes more time and trouble to convince them than to do the work. But it’s a principle. We often have clients come back after they initially hired somebody else, because they were cheaper or did a free pitch. In the end we know that our approach is better for the client, but they need to find out for themselves sometimes.
 
EK: You direct a relatively large design firm. With such an organization, the burn-rate on cash often forces principals to look for more lucrative work to sustain the firm’s health. Which clients do you find to be the most profitable to work with? How do you prospect such groups?
ES: Big, long-term projects are best because you get up to speed with it and start making economies of scale. They are boring, but good cash cows. You also need small, interesting projects to keep the designers hungry, even if they lose money. A balance is important.
 
EK: Professional services firms are usually challenged by the paradox of billable hours. Often, the design solution has a disproportionately great value compared to the time worked. As such, some agencies have proposed the notion of “licensing” ideas. Do you still bill on the hour, or do you have an alternate method of charging for your services?
ES: We always stick to our proposals which are based on time spent. If we take too long, we lose, if we take less time, we win. We do make licensing deals for exclusive typefaces, and we have some jobs with bigger clients that are entirely charged on an hourly basis, but only after a long relationship, where they know they can trust you. Clients can have access to our extranet and the time-sheets if they demand it.
 
EK: Many firms reference industry erosion, limited budgets, difficult client relationships, and a myriad of other issues as obstacles to strong design solutions. What do you feel stands in the way of your firm doing even better work?
ES: Young, know-all MBAs who avoid risk because they don’t want to endanger their career prospects. In the end, they do endanger their careers by becoming totally interchangeable.
 
EK: Often it seems that strong designers find difficulty in directing others. Are you a good manager? What lessons have you learned about this aspect of your business?
ES: I am good at inspiring other designers. I am not very good at the daily aspects of running a business. That’s why I have other people who do that for me. I’m best when I improvise, which makes it difficult for our people sometimes to work with me. I’m a Gemini and German: always on time, but sometimes a year late.
 
EK: Aside from the obvious reasons, such as portfolio and past experience, what do you look for in the designers you hire? Is there a particular characteristic that you find in those who excel at SpiekermannPartners?
ES: Attitude. Curiosity. And at least one skill that is particular to that person.
 
EK: What is the culture at SpiekermannPartners? How do you maintain this spirit as the organization grows?
ES: Leave people to do what they do best. And provide the best espresso machine in the street, the fastest servers in the business and the most comfortable chairs.
 
EK: What aspects of your personality are liabilities to your business? How do you overcome these weaknesses?
ES: I tend to lose interest quickly. My boredom threshold keeps going lower over the years. And I’m not really interested in money. Clients sense that. I also can hardly ever say no. Not to interviews, presentations, lectures, big projects, favours, time-wasters, public duties, freebie projects.
 
EK: Does the “business” aspect of your practice enhance or diminish your capabilities as a designer?
ES: Without it, I wouldn’t be around as a designer. I started a few businesses (like MetaDesign and FontShop), and they’ve all been successfull. You also have to design a business, and that process is very much like working for client projects.
 
EK: Do you employ others with strong traditional business skills to help plan and manage the growth of SpiekermannPartners? If so, can you tell us a little about the roles they fill and what you gain from these relationships?
ES: We have a freelance controller, 2 project managers and an office manager. They look after proposals, the day-to-day running of the business, our efficiency. I still tell them what equipment we’ll buy and who we should hire and when.
 
EK: You are highly regarded in the design community, which is quite nice to see given how pragmatic your work is. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you rely on sensationalism or shenanigans to build your reputation. However, does all of this press and attention result in more–or better–work for you and your firm?
ES: Not really. Clients are hardly ever part of our design scene. But it makes me feel good being liked by most of my peers. I have many friends in the business, and we see each other more as colleagues than as competition. I need that moral support.
 
EK: Thanks once again for the interview. In closing, are there any last thoughts that you might like to share? Or, do you have any suggestions for designers considering starting their own firm?
ES: Just the usual: do what you’re good at and avoid what you’re not good at. Don’t talk about stuff you do not know about. Even harmless clients will have a bullshit detector and know when you’re out of your depths. Travel and learn. And ask whenever you don’t know something. It is my greatest fear to die stupid.

Not the complete story of my life.

These are not extensive listings of all my achievements and failings, nor the complete story of my life (who would want to know?). Just the sort of cv people need to publish for events and publications.
There are two versions;
a very short one (erik_bio_en+de.pdf)
with 600 characters and a slightly longer one with 1700 (spiekerbio_de+en_0107.pdf).
Both in German and English and available from the download page.

form condensed, 6

More from my column in form, the German design magazine.

Pitched out

A pitch is the presentation of design ideas to a client by competing agencies or studios, usually for free.

I keep reading ?(...) won the project (...) after a pitch...? Won? A pitch is the presentation of design ideas to a client by competing agencies or studios. The Americans pitch a baseball, while the English noun denotes a black, sticky substance that is difficult to get off your hands. That stuff is called Pech in German, and we use the same word for bad luck. I love etymology! Bad luck indeed for those who don't win a pitch. Clients invite designers to a pitch when they think they need help with a communication problem, and the fee usually doesn't even cover the cost of the colour prints. That would be like visiting several restaurants in a row and trying the food in each one, then refusing to pay the bill because none of the dishes were really to your liking.
Taking part in a pitch where concepts are sold for a fraction of what they are worth, in other words: given away, makes you a loser three times over. First you lose any respect for our business, because if it can be given away, it can't be worth much. Then you lose money by not being paid for your most valuable asset: ideas and their visualization. And finally, you lose any chance to show the client that it takes a dialogue to solve design problems. A pitch is like a blind date with many partners at the same time. A client who invites designers to a pitch without first talking to them properly, at length and in depth, might as well draw lots among the members of a professional association. And if a client does engage a few designers in a dialogue about the issue, he won?t need a pitch any more. He'll know who to trust.
Why then do more and more clients think that pitching is the way to go, and why do so many designers take part? It seems that Stupidity, Laziness, Vanity and Cowardice - the four Riders of the Design Apocalypse, drove Reason, one of the patron saints of design, to a blackout; a pitch black one, so to speak.

form condensed, 5

More from my monthly column in form, the German design magazine.

Logos to go.

Who needs graphic designers when you can just get logos online for a few dollars?

At last there?s a colleague who does away with a myth: designing logos and other graphic ephemera is the beginning of an extensive process in which the company first has to 'find' itself, before it, aided and abetted by management-, style-, advertising and design-consultants, reaches the apex of Corporate Design: the logo.
I quote from a web site:

"We involve up to 5 graphic designers on your behalf in order to get as much variety of designs as possible. We now offer a new logo design, done by at least 3 different graphic designers, for just 199 Euros."

There you are: if 1 designer makes a bad logo, 5 designers can make 5 bad logos. One can hardly get a decent meal for that sort of money these days! But there's more:

"This is a unique offer, well below the common price structure in this business of between 500 or even 2000 Euros."

Wow! 2000 Euros? Weidemann was rumoured to have been paid 200,000 old Marks for his DB-logo back then. That must have been one percent for the work, with the remainder as damages for countless presentations, corrections and re-submittals over the course of the two years, the usual time span these things take in a government agency.

"Why are our prices so low? Our designers work from home. Our services are based on communication via electronic media between designer and client: e-mail, SMS, Chat, Internet. And our designers work in economically well-placed regions."

So there. While they're sitting at their computers all day chatting, they might as well do a few logos on the side. And obviously these regions are in the Eastern bloc, where the Euro is hard currency, software is quickly appropriated and intellectual property is valued about as high as the Russian Rouble, but where every other person is a Grand Master in chess and ace programmer. Go for it, all you clients who keep complaining about the high cost of labour. Here's another service, apart from Call Centers, which you can delegate to people without much knowledge of German. It'll save money and tiresome discussions. And if you don't like the results, simply order another half dozen logos. That will keep 30 graphic designers busy and create jobs, albeit far away. We need to think global!

form condensed, 4

From my monthly column in form. The German design magazine.
Of Chief Pencil Sharpeners and Senior Meeting Conveners.

About meaningless titles and unnecessary hierarchies

A recent study about the economic situation of the design profession in the US listed six hierarchies for the positions in an average design firm: owner/partner/principal; creative/design director; art director; senior designer; designer; junior designer. This reasonable list attracted a lot of attention in online forums and weblogs, with large agencies submitting their lists of up to 18 levels of titles in the design department alone ? from junior designer through copywriter and media designer to Chief Creative Officer. Not only does this take on inflationary proportions, rendering them increasingly meaningless, but there is also a contradiction in the terminology:

Some of the titles denote where someone is placed within the ranks of their company, while others explain what they do there. Titles, roles and job descriptions are all confused. We have already learnt in this column that unprecise language indicates unclear thinking. What, then, makes an agency use such confused language, which they would never tolerate in a client briefing? Their employee?s vanity? And what of designers who have progressed to design director after a few years, only to have entered the end of the career street? And if you want to name a dozen hierarchies, you need three times that many employees. Which is why small studios love to fake it by giving an impressive title to every intern (how about Research Assistant?), while the cleaner is upgraded to Vice President of Recycling Operations. And even in Germany, those titles have to be in English, the more to impress gullible clients with. Unfortunately, the Chief Design Officer sounds very much like a military rank in German.

The people who are most impressed by this sort of language tend to be the ones who cannot really speak it. Apart from designer vanity, another reason quoted for titlemania is often the fact that clients would rather call a Design Director than a lowly designer. The director gets paid for taking the call and then relays the message to the lower levels who do the actual work. In the real world, however, teams are neither run nor dominated by the people with the top title, but by those who command the highest respect from their peers. Unfortunately, the soundest teams often tend to take on new colleagues only if their competence is below the group?s average. Over time, everybody in a small team will have risen to Senior Designer level at least, but at the expense of design quality. The desire to keep the status quo tends to be stronger than that of taking risks.

Designers, too, fall victim to the Peter* Principle: Employees within an organization will advance to their highest level of competence and then be promoted to and remain at a level at which they are incompetent.

* After Laurence Johnston Peter (1919?1990).

Design is an intellectual process

My short answer to a frequent question:
How do you define what you do?”

Design is first and foremost an intellectual process. Contrary to popular belief, designers are not artists. They employ artistic methods to visualize thinking and process, but, unlike artists, they work to solve a client’s problem, not present their own view of the world. If a design project, however, is to be considered successful – and that would be the true measure of quality – it will not only solve the problem at hand, but also add an aesthetic dimension beyond the pragmatic issues.

I consider design not to be a series of “creative” one-offs, but an integrated process, from planning the appropriate communications strategy to designing functional and beautiful objects as well as – for example – implementing electronic stationery on clients' systems.

What clients say and what designers hear are too often very different things. Design is a powerful tool to help clarify the problem. It is only when a common understanding has been established between client and designer that effective results can be
achieved.

Design quality needs an integrated approach: look more closely than expected, ask many questions, think laterally, get involved in things you shouldn’t, do more than you are supposed to and have fun doing it. Problem solving is one thing, aesthetic pleasure another. Combine the two, make the engineer sketch like an artist and make the artist analyze like an engineer, and you are half-way there.

Brand culture

Leica – the brand. A myth brought into focus.
An essay on Leica, part of a series called Views of Brand Culture

ISBN 3-87584-106-9
leica.pdf

form condensed, 3.

From my monthly column in form magazine.

You are what you wear.

Recently in Frankfurt, a public debate on the occasion of the German Design Council’s 50th anniversary: the place is festive and people are dressed accordingly. It is easy to distinguish between those active in the design profession and those who commission design, comment on it or run the business part of it. The real or the intended proximity to the profession seems obvious, simply judged by the absence of decoration around men’s necks. Real designers don’t wear ties. What does that tell us? On the one hand, that it is both easier and more difficult for women. They need to do more than just leave their neckties at home in order to signify a creative background. On the other hand, it means that Paul Klee was spot on in saying “Only appearances are not false”. You are what you are seen to be. This makes it easy for clients to write us off as artistic weirdos, when more often than not we are just too lazy to shave every day. Isn’t it amazing that such an unspectacular act of refusal is enough to qualify a whole profession? But maybe there has been some progress. Graphic designers don’t have to wear one black and one white shoe to stand out from the crowd anymore, and certain product designers can give up wearing a heavy white sweater in all weathers, just to be instantly recognized as a designer.

On the other hand, voluntary uniforms can turn out to be very practical indeed, on both sides. If your client wears a striped tie with a navy blazer, you can take this as an obvious hint for the choice of typeface: precise serifs and well-behaved centred setting. Architects in tight turtle necks à la Ulm will most certainly only let Rotis touch their papers. Oxford shirts with button-down collars spell Anglo-american preferences, for David Ogilvy perhaps. A period after every word helps here. Like. So. Bulbous diving watches and fat fountain pens are standard kit for alumni from Californian design schools. The image of the delicate, reality-shy creative is often signified by a little goatee which threatens to be blown away by the slightest breeze. Only, however, if our pale colleague exposed himself to the outside, whence his cool, air-filled sneakers would speed him up enough to arrive early for his next appointment. And that would be disastrous. Being caught in observance of an old-fashioned virtue like punctuality could almost be detrimental to a designer’s reputation.

form condensed, 2.

From my monthly column in form magazine. About controllers taking over design studios.

Effective, not efficient

Design companies call themselves studio, office, agency or even atelier, depending on were they come from and where they think they’re going. All these legal entities are usually run by designers. They may have studied product design or graphic design, often labeled as visual communications, but they never took courses in accounting, management, human resources or marketing. That knowledge comes along over time, gradually turning designers into managers and entrepreneurs.

Learning by doing works well for smaller outfits, where it is fairly easy to estimate how long a job will take and who’s doing what in the studio at any given time. As soon as more than a handful of employees have to be coordinated, it gets pretty tough to keep on top of things. You have to watch out for projects not only to be kept on track as far as the design part goes, but also to stay within the numbers given in the proposal and to make sure the client is still going along with it.

Enter the controller. I never properly understood what controlling is – that could well be a mental block on my part. In essence, I think, the idea is to generate numbers in order to have some control (sic) over expenses and revenues. That should enable you to tell whether a project is generating profit or going down the tubes. Once controlling has established the key figures and factors, it should not only be able to document who spent how much time on which project and for how much money, but should also predict future trends. Estimates could then be written more accurately and resources planned more easily.

So much for the theory. In the real world, controlling in a design studio meets two challenges: firstly, everybody knows that timesheets are usually filled out at the end of the week, with everybody trying to match the planners’ expectations. And secondly, this approach looks at the efficiency of the process, not the effect, ie the work. Not the result becomes the reference for success, but the way it was achieved. This totally distorts the reality in our profession. Our clients do not judge our work by how it came about, but by how it works for them. Is their brand stronger after the redesign? Does the product sell more? Is it manufactured more cheaply and swiftly? Whether we get there by working day and night or with handmade software, under the influence of substances or by being exposed to loud music – nobody cares, as long as the client is happy.

Owners or senior employees are responsible for the quality of the design work, as this is what clients look for in design offices, firms, ateliers, agencies and studios. Of course, they have to earn money, and controlling can provide very useful tools and standards for judging business parameters. If, however, efficiency of process becomes the most important one, the quality of work will eventually be compromised. No controller or accountant can decide whether design work is good or bad. They can only reward those who obediently filled out their timesheets – in my experience not the most creative people. Once the work gets mediocre because design quality is no longer appreciated by the system, design fees go down. Then one starts to make economies – like hiring cheaper employees, and the quality of the output sinks even lower. The whole purpose of controlling – earning more through efficiency – is turned on its head. Ergo: controlling in the design business is good, as long as it is controlled by designers.

10 Questions from Designer to Designer

An interview by email; December 2003.
A remark about the form of this entry (and many others):
Most of them have simply copied out of emails. That results in lower case writing (mostly and not very consistently), wrong apostrophes, wrong hyphens and wrong quote marks. Too bad, but inevitable in international correspondence. Pragmatic, not righteous.

' ≠ ’ | - ≠ – | -- ≈ – | " ≠ „ | " ≠ ”

1. What is your profession?
type and typographic designer

2.What College did you attend (if any)?
Freie Universität Berlin

3. Do you feel that your schooling played a big part in your decision to become a designer?
nope (is that better than a plain no?)

4. What is your favorite car, and why?
my NSU Ro80; i've had it for 1985 (it's a 1977 model); it was the first sedan with a Wankel (ie rotary) engine and the first car to be designed to a wedge shape (see photo).

5. In a short paragraph, describe how you became interested in design.
i was a printer and typesetter, but my shop burned down in 1977. So i ended up making sketches (which i had also been doing as a typesetter) and giving them to a photosetter instead.

6. Do you feel that design is art? Why or why not
of course it isn't. A designer visualizes a client's issues, problems, brief. An artist his own. Designers and artists use artistic means to show their concepts and designers also use intuition. Thus the confusion. But if i wanted to work like an artist, i would have become an artist and not a designer. I also use science more than an artist would.

7. Where do you see design in the next five years?
questions like this are silly because even if i had any idea, i wouldn't be stupid enough to predict the future. Anything can happen.

8. Serif or sans serif? (and why)
Both, whatever fits the purpose. If i designed more books or newspapers, i'd use more serifs. As i design a lot of information systems, i use more sans -- less noise (and i haven't designed a real serif face yet)

9. Are there any designers that you look to for inspiration on your own work?
my colleagues in the office and wherever i meet them

10. If tomorrow your life depended on the loss of either your eyes or you arms, which would you prefer to give up?
my arms. I could always use someone else's, but not without my eyes.

Bonus Question.
Were you really told to “stop stealing sheep,” or is that a watered down version of what was said for letter-spacing all caps?
frederick goudy said that "men who would letterspace lower case would shag sheep', as that was (and is) considered a cardinal sin by typographers. Letterspacing caps, however, is done and should be done generously.

Rotis

Is Rotis a typeface?
The truth about Rotis. Taken from an online discussion on the AtypI website, www.atypi.org.

Robin Kinross writes: Isn't the truth about Rotis, that the sans works quite well in very large sizes, as an architectural and signing letter (as Foster Associates realised); but that it is just mediocre (the sans) or actually incompetent (the seriffed fonts) as a typographic letter; ductus is pretty important in the way letters work together. I can’t see that these ill-fitting, ill-suited letters are even an honourable failure, as has been suggested warm-heartedly, because it’s not clear that their designer had any coherent purpose in mind. Otl Aicher was a good graphic designer, a fine photographer, made some very nice posters, and did some pretty good magazine design work, but – despite what he liked to think – he wasn't a good typographer or book designer. His work in that sphere is very formalist: just disposing areas of grey texture around the page. He thought lines of text should form an even block of tone, without visible line space (he told me this proudly when I interviewed him, and it is explained in his book “Typographie”, as I remember). I suppose Rotis was made with that view of text in mind.

Erik Spiekermann responds: Isn't the truth about Rotis, that it has some great letters, but they never come together in one typeface. It looks best on gravestones and similar large architectural applications, as Robin suggests. We have a word for that in German: Rotis is a “Kopfgeburt”, it is born from (by?) the head. Aicher wrote a great theory about how one would have to make the most legible typeface ever but then proceeded to prove with Rotis that a theory makes a typeface not. He was a graphic designer, and the difference between us and them is that they start with an image of a page (preferably with all type looking evenly grey) and assemble elements – images, headlines, text – until that mental image corresponds to the look of the page. We – the typographic designers – read the text, think about who might read it and where, choose a size for the publication, a typeface, a column width, margins, etc. The resulting page may never win prizes and certainly won’t be art (in the “creative” sense), but it’ll be legible, even readable and it should also be aesthetically pleasing.

As many designers seem to lack critical faculties (present company obviously excepted), they judged Rotis by the theory cleverly provided and not by the evidence in front of their eyes. Whenever i speak out against Rotis, i am accused of jealousy and not giving credit to a fellow typedesigner. It is interesting to note that not one “real” type designer considers Rotis a typeface. Aicher certainly didn’t do himself a favour by aiming so high with his first proper type design (he had previously adapted Univers for Bulthaupt and the Traffic typeface for Munich airport).

Proportionen

Wieder eine Frage per email:
Was bedeuten für Sie Proportionen?

Alle meine typografischen arbeiten beruhen auf einer proportion. Selten die DIN-proportion, weil die weder sehr harmonisch ist noch aufregend. Alle formate haben die gleichen verhältnisse, und die sind auch noch entweder zu kurz oder zu schmal. Ich nehme meistens das 2:3 verhältnis, weil dabei die doppelseite dann 3:4 ist, die nächste wieder 2:3 und so weiter. Für grosse CD-programme haben wir auch schon mal seitengrössen entwickelt, die nur eine seite mit DIN gemein haben. Der WDR hat eine schmale formatreihe – 297 hoch und 198 breit und eine breite, 210 breit und 315 hoch, also 2:3. Bei den AUDI drucksachen haben wir auch seitlich 12 mm abgeschnitten, weil das schmalere format eleganter aussieht und auch
wieder in der 2:3 proportion ist.

Bei büchern und zeitschriften baue ich raster, deren einzelteile die gleiche proportion haben wie das ganze; zb eine seite aus 12 rechtecken 12x18mm, also 144x216mm, schon wieder 2:3. Den goldenen schnitt verwende ich beim schriftentwurf als fibonacci reihe 5:8:13 und immer, wenn ich kleine, schmale bücher mache, die nicht im DIN format sein müssen. Bosshards “Technische Grundlagen der
Satzherstellung” ist meine bibel, auch wegen der ausführlichen abhandlung der proportionen.

form condensed

I write a monthly column in form, the German design magazine.
This one is about claiming other people’s work. Which is not bad style, it is theft.

Imitation is not flattery

We’ve had two break-ins at our office recently. Surprisingly, nothing was ever stolen. At least nothing that we could see. We have no idea whether any data was secretly lifted from the server or ideas copied from all the sketches and print-outs on the walls. And if it had been, how would we measure the damage and report it to the insurance? What is there to steal from a design studio, except electronic gadgets and lots of cables?

There are hundreds of books out there whose only purpose is to serve as inspiration for other designers. And it can be flattering to find work that you know had been influenced by your own work or that of your team. There is, however, a thin line in our business between copying, adapting, imitating, quoting or just being inspired by someone else’s work. And let’s face it: hardly any project warrants invention, because most clients feel more comfortable with something similar to something else which is tried and tested.

Occasionally, thieves deliver themselves inadvertently. I have seen lots of portfolios, printed or online, where someone claimed authorship for a project I knew they had not – or only marginally – been involved in. Large projects like the ones I have been working on over the past 25 years always need more than one designer, plus a host of other trades, be they programmers, typesetters, project managers, assistants or numerous interns. And all of these can claim a piece of the action. But having worked on a project with other designers in a studio doesn’t mean you alone were “the designer”. Whenever I show a project, I speak of “us” and I always try to credit as many people as the client will let us. I know that people move on and it does me proud to hear and see them mention the work we did together. As long as they speak the truth.

It should be easy: show the project, explain what your role was (maybe simply “member of the design team”) and give credit to the agency or studio who you worked for at the time, whether employed or as a freelancer. Don’t forget: potential clients or employers know that it is easy to copy and paste a complete portfolio. I know that most designers I have worked with have a better archive than me, and I also know where most of their many fonts came from. What surprises me is the stupidity: people show me projects that I worked on and they didn’t, or they use versions of fonts that I know were never publicly available. And if they don’t send their portfolios directly to me, looking for work, I see it when judging competitions or visiting friends’ studios. This is a small business – at least some of us are friends first and competitors afterwards, and we talk to each other. And we do talk about applicants for jobs.

Claiming other people’s work is not bad style, it is theft. And being deliberately unclear about the exact authorship is not modest, but dishonest. Intellectual property is what we create and thus own. And taking that from a designer is not flattery by imitation, but a crime.

One thing only

Another big question: What is the ONE thing you think every student of typography should know?

That you are designing not the black marks on the page, but the space in between.

Typographic poster

For an exhibition in London, I was asked to design a poster featuring a speech of my choice, for an audience who mainly (only?) spoke English.

A FOURTH OF JULY ORATION IN THE GERMAN TONGUE, DELIVERED AT A BANQUET OF THE ANGLO-AMERICAN CLUB OF STUDENTS BY MARK TWAIN.

I chose the speech by Mark Twain because all my other favourite speeches would have been in German, and thus no good to an audience in London. This excerpt comes from Twain’s essay “The awful German Language” and, while large chunks of it are in what he considers to be German, it is still comprehensible to an audience who doesn’t speak my language. It uses the prejudice you all have about us, the Krauts. Our language shows that, indeed, we are a nation of mechanically minded perfectionists. And then again, we’re not. The ability to laugh about ourselves is not too highly developed, but I certainly understand Twain’s frustration with that awful language of ours. But at least he went there, learnt it and thus understand that a culture can only be appreciated through its language. How can anybody who doesn’t speak or understand the language say that Germans have no sense of humour? If we did, he wouldn’t know.

The poster designed itself: the English text is set in Caslon, the typeface that George Bernard Shaw always specified for his writings; the German copy is set in Fraktur, the typeface used for setting German and other northern languages since Gutenberg. If it hadn’t been for the Nazis misusing these faces for their sinister purposes, we would still be reading Fraktur. It is the typeface of Goethe, Martin Luther, Karl Marx and Hegel. And it is perfectly suited to set our long words and interminable sentences, still evoking Gothic cathedrals and narrow streets with timbered houses. The one used is called Wittenberg Fraktur, after the town where Luther nailed his theses on a church door in 1517.

twain_poster.pdf

Typographic rules

A student asked in an email: Can you tell me about any particular typographic rules or details?

I hate those big questions. Any particular rules? Hundreds! All written down in my books. One particular one quickly: Text is usually set too tightly and with too big a wordspace. One of the legacies of Quark Xpress. Always set the optimum wordspace (under H&J) to 80% or less in unjustified setting. And increase tracking by at least 2 units (that’ll be 10 in InDesign) for sizes under 12 pt. If that makes the copy run too long, simply decrease the size by 0.1 or 0.2 pt. That actually increases space between lines (aka leading) and by giving the type a little more room to breathe, makes
a more legible even though it’s a little smaller.

Don’t open tracking for my new typeface, FF Unit, as i have designed it to be generous at small sizes.

Interviews statements thoughts

Questions

I get asked a lot of questions from students, colleagues and friends and I write articles, columns and the occasional book. And it takes a lot of time going over the same stuff. So this blog is the beginning of a collection of emails and other writings plus gossip, hearsay and things I find interesting; unedited and in no particular order. And in both English and German. You have to sort it yourself. There’ll be new stuff every day – I have a very large hard drive.