Beginnings, Introductions, “It is a start”

Hi everyone, I’m sharing some creative non-fiction that I’ve been wanting to try out for awhile. This is based on an article I wrote a few years ago. I hope you enjoy it. — JB

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She took out her earbuds. The umbrella from the person in front of her twirled just slightly as the clouds fell and they all walked inside, one after another. After drying her feet, and trying not to spill the coffee cup in her hand, she stopped by the office to check her mailbox. Empty.

On her walk across campus, a quote had been ticking away in the back of her mind. It was something she’d read regarding the Icograda Design Education Manifesto 2000: “The document will be interpreted according to local situations.”1

Well, I guess we’ll see about that, she thought.

The class space was nearly full — not bad for a Thursday afternoon, as the weekend tends to arrive early on most college campuses. She began to set up the instructor portal, taking sips of coffee as she pressed a few buttons and connected. One of the students close by acknowledged her with mild curiosity.

“Hello, everyone! Thanks for being here,” she began, and was greeted by a range of responses: some smiles, a few waved their hands back. One student gave her a thumbs up. A few students were sketching in their notebooks.

“As I mentioned earlier this week, our discussion today is one that integrates history with creative practice. Let’s get a closer, everyone.”

She opened the archive. Inside were dozens of graphic design magazines and journals. The students began peering inside.

“These are design journals and magazines. These are types of print periodicals that would be published on a regular basis throughout the year. Maybe monthly, maybe quarterly. During most of the twentieth century, and into the twenty-first, this is how the design community circulated ideas and knowledge.”

She hesitated, never sure quite how to continue this lecture. Most of the students had never read a printed, bound magazine. Everything they experienced was serialized or scattered across various media forums. And so, the students’ awareness of historical objects changed every few years. How much of this do they already know? she wondered in the back of her mind.

“As you might be aware, magazines were available by subscription or could be purchased at newsstands or book shops. Designers — like everyone else — could buy these in person, or have them delivered to their homes or offices, or use a library’s subscription to access various articles and essays.”

The group waited, and watched as the issues were brought forth, one at a time, so they could get a closer look.

— “Can we look through them?” asked B, eyeing a few of the more colorful covers.

“Yes, of course,” she replied.

Page by page, the students began sifting carefully through the archive.

“Specifically,” she began again, as the pages were turned and considered, “this archive contains the first issues to nearly all the major graphic design periodicals of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries.”

There were soft murmurs and messaging throughout the group, with enthusiasm ranging from genuine interest to apathy. She expected that would happen. This particular lesson always started this way.

“Can anyone tell me why these first issues might be important?”

The group was quiet. Someone coughed. A device beeped.

A student wearing yet another vintage music t-shirt (this time it was Nirvana), remarked, “Because it’s the first time the journal was published and so it’s a big deal?”

— “They’re harder to find?”

— “First anythings are a worth remembering…”

She nodded, nudging their thinking further, “There’s something else about these. Check the beginnings. What do you see?”

The beginnings. A few students started looking through the issues, and others looked on. A few moved around to get a better view of everything. By this time, their workspace was filled with open issues.

— “There’s a table of contents. It looks…. academic.”

— “This one has a lot of ads. Weird. It’s like, twenty pages of photo advertisements.”

— “There’s an introduction.”

She smiled. “YES! The introduction. Read a few lines from the one you’re holding, K.”

K cleared their throat (something they always did before having to read something aloud), “What will be the shape of our new world of design?”2

More than a few students started to laugh.

— “Ooooh. Really? It says that? Huh…”

— “I love this!”

— “Here’s another one: ‘We have wrapped our conversations tightly around ourselves, blankets of white noise offered with expectations of sameness.’3”

She smiled and began again, “These first issues contain introductions from the editors. These is the person, or the people, that assembled and made decisions about all the content in that journal or magazine. It’s a way to introduce the start of what they’re hoping is a long-term publishing project. Think about that: goals and futures put into writing.”

“Each magazine and journal had its own vision,” she continued, “for the kinds of things they want to publish. Another question for you as you’re flipping pages: what kind of things would you expect to read about in a design magazine or journal?”

The sound of thinking filled the room, and a few pages kept being turned.

— “Techniques. Like, how to actually use tools and stuff.”

— “This one shows portfolio work from a few designers, so maybe it’s to show us what good work looks like?”

— “But how do they know what good work looks like?”

— “They’re experts?”

— “Taste is subjective…”

— “Maybe it was considered good at that time. What year is that one from?”

— “Good design is timeless, right.”

— “Timeless, or boring. Like this one. Ugh.”

— “This one is all about typography… I like it.”

“Exactly. All of that,” she continued, “There’s a wide range of things within these pages. The editor introductions, in the first issues in particular, set a tone. This is where they put their visions for the future out into the world — what they hope to contribute to the way designers practice, how they do what they do, and what will be shared. They are, in every sense of the word, beginnings.”

— “But some of these,” noted R, smiling, “are seriously funny. I mean, this one says: ‘We remember it with mixed emotions — mainly a nostalgic association with green eye shades, garters on the sleeves, naked light bulbs and low pay’4 … and what’s that even mean? It’s from 1959"?”

— “What makes a light bulb naked?”

— “They got big dreams!” said W from the back with a big grin.

There was laughter again. She couldn’t help but join in. “True,” she said, “they did. And probably still do. It’s with that kind of motivation that these things start. These journals have lifespans — different from books, which can stand on their own. But for periodicals, from one issue to the next, year to year, there is a continuation of approach, or theme. It can of course change over the years. ”

— “I think this one sums it up nicely… ‘It is a start.’5”