Dingbat Design

Ray Gun, 1994One of the funniest design stories that never fails to make me giggle is that of David Carson – art director of Ray Gun magazine – outrageously printing what he considered a boring story on Brian Ferry in Dingbat font.

Carson is best known for innovative magazine layout, and his use of experimental typography. At art school we were taught one of the most aspects of graphic design was communication, but as Carson says:

Don’t mistake legibility for communicationIn fact, the Brian Ferry story was published in a legible font at the back of the same issue of the magazine. A sense of humour is important too. 

Let Them Eat Chookas!

Chookas! :: Loftus // DreamCanvas // No flashHere’s some trivia on Australian theatre for you: instead of saying ‘break a leg’ to wish a performer good luck, we say ‘Chookas!’ Apparently it refers to days of yore when it was considered the performers would dine well if there was a full house in the theatre for the evening’s performance – dining on chooks (Aussie slang for chicken) rather than plain bread. It is not a very elegant expression however, it must be said.

In a new tradition established only last Friday night, if there were not enough theatre staff on hand that day to sign the congratulatory card for the Opening Night of a performance, the nearest designer is called upon to fill the gap with a drawing. With moments to spare and only an unforgiving pen to hand what does said designer hastily doodle-do? Why a chook of course. 

The Great Gatsby: Character vs Caricature

The decadent and hedonistic Twenties roared onto the screen in Baz Luhrman’s The Great Gatsby. It was a fabulous spectacle: all non-stop speed, dazzle and dash, bursts of colour, explosions of noise and music and frenzied partying. The fashion evoked the era but bore an unmistakably twenty-teens edge, the diamonds sparkled aggressively and the pearls provided a soft glow in counterpoint. Probably that much beading will never be seen again in the history of cinema.

But this was a triumph of style over substance – however much I do admire Luhrman’s commitment to his singular style – for where was the heart of this story? Where was the humanity, I wondered? This is a tale of vain and empty people, perhaps a true reflection of a certain strata of society of the time, but by film’s end there was nothing left to hold onto. We do not watch real people, but larger-than-life archetypes – caricatures. We do not care if they live or die, and can only despise them for their various wants of character. But this is no fault of Luhrman’s: it is how Fitzgerald wrote his characters. 

Gatsby himself is an egomaniacal crook, naïve about love and obsessed with the spineless and mercenary child, Daisy (even her name is unsophisticated); her husband Tom, a lusty, cruel and hypocritical brute takes advantage of his discontented mistress and her hapless husband; the extremely well-dressed and polished Jordan is the kindest but ultimately wrapped up in herself; and finally Nick, our narrator, is an ineffectual observer who is swept along this fast current and laments too late.

But the film is spectacular to look at – everyone and everything is beautiful. The Great Gatsby is super-glossy, a feast for the eyes served at speed, and ultimately a wonderland that cannot be believed in. It is a modern fairy-tale with a grim conclusion. 

Read an intelligent review of the book by Kathryn Schulz at Vulture.

The Whirlwind Descends

The Whirlwind Descends, part 1 :: 24/10/12, 9:27:23 PMSometimes I close my eyes and I see a film unfolding. Here’s one, inspired by the sound of an endless throb overhead: I seem to live beneath the flight path of helicopters. Sometimes they crisscross the sky in the middle of the night and drag me to wakefulness, other times they infuriate while I watch an actual film, and am forced to pause until they pass out of hearing. Time to make use of their annoyance … I wrote this straight out in one draft in twenty minutes using the iPhone app Type-Writer, and I rather like it.

The Whirlwind Descends, part 2 :: 24/10/12, 9:35:09 PMThe Whirlwind Descends, part 3 :: 24/10/12, 9:40:45 PMThe Whirlwind Descends, part 4 :: 24/10/12, 9:47:26 PM

overhead
in the yellow uneasy sky
a helicopter chops
an omnipresent threat
hangs in the air
waiting
for movement
the throb the infinite
heartbeat does not stop

we stand
beneath its immensity
the dry heat
sucks all hope
like moisture from our mouths
our hearts drown
beneath the weight of sound
we cannot feel our pulses beat

fear has no name
sight has no hope
smell has a whirlwind
stirred up, like ashes
taste in our mouths
touch feels your fingers grip
hearing turned to stone

waiting has no end
redemption choked off
the whirlwind descends
the heartbeat engulfs
the wrench
what is done
cannot be undone
at the end.

It’s Beary Cold Outside

It’s a very cold and foreboding first of June outside today, so this collage on the June page of my Frankie calendar of a Fair Isle kitted bear by Donna Wilson is very apt. She works in a combination of traditional watercolour and digital media, and although she says little of herself, you can see more of her work at her website.

I’ll be battening down the hatches and keeping warm today. Happy June wherever you are!