in-jenuity

Especially in my past four years as an English major, I have been preoccupied with clarity in communication. It has varied remarkably little among critical essays, fiction, poetry, and stories for the university newspaper: my goal is always to package information in a way that is simultaneously economical and compelling. Poetry has proven a salient example of how elements of typography—font, spacing, alignment—could entirely change a poem's reading. So my endeavors in writing have prepared me for explorations in design as much as, if not more than, my inclination toward art practice. In creative writing seminars especially I encountered the satisfaction of creating a "package" that does more than justice to its contents in as few words as possible. For me, design is a logical expansion on writing, in the way that it both uses and moves beyond text. Design is another language to be spoken.

 Moreover, I believe that design is always and increasingly in need of clarity. With the spread of relevant technologies and the daunting everyday encounter with information, design that clarifies could be as gratefully received as it would be rewarding to create. Here I have been heavily influenced by several essays on postmodernism, most notably a chapter from Fredric Jameson's Postmodernism, Or the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism. Among other things, he includes a harrowing description of the disorienting "postmodern hyperspace" of the Bonaventure Hotel in Southern California, the experience of whose architecture is

 

a symbol and analogue of that even sharper dilemma which is the incapacity of our minds, at least at present, to map the great global multinational and decentred communicational network in which we find ourselves caught as subjects. (84)

 

He goes on to outline a "need for maps", cognitive and otherwise. I have taken from this essay that while it may be nothing new to say that design must strive for clarity in its synthesis and presentation, clarity becomes a newly gargantuan task when the information environment has changed.

  I believe that achieving clarity in design requires more than just a borrowed (and de-contextualized) Bauhaus-like visual aesthetic. Given a list of designers to choose from at a Parsons summer program this past year, I researched Tibor Kalman, precisely because I was inspired by the simplicity and minimalism of his design solutions. What amazes me about these is how visually reduced they seem compared to other designs, and yet they manage to communicate much more, not without wit and humor. I am thinking particularly of the M&Co "5 O'Clock" watch, whose minimalism is at once economical, visually arresting, and funny (Kalman said that his design team had chosen 5 because it's the most important hour of the day: when you get off work and happy hour begins). It is not hard to see why Kalman was such an "idea" man, preferring the lunatic over the committee, because with such pared-down design, the idea is even more central to the design's function. My research on Kalman along with my experience at Parsons further convinced me that, especially in the context of new technology, I am less interested in what software can do in the way of effects and filters than its ability to enable good ideas.

I'm indebted to these sources and others for thinking that clarity in design must come from more than just visual economy-- it must come from the concept and practice itself, from the bottom up. I am excited to take my passion for communication to a new plane in design, a language that transcends text.