Stop, Think, Go, Do

A manifesto should be a declaration of war against

complacency. At the very least it should trigger thinking.

EXPRESS

Spill your guts for all to see. That’s expression! In

recent years designers have promoted a trend of imposing

personal expression on others through design manifestos.

Not just post-it postcard-size statements about the

wonders of existence, but posters, billboards, and monu-

mental typographic installations with words of wisdom

and observation—some critical others farcical, some

hopeful others cynical. This may have started when in

the 1980s Barbara Kruger and Jenny Holzer introduced

type and image into their gallery and street art as

means of conveying heady messages. Words were their

ammunition. Sometimes they were aimed with pinpoint

intelligence at social ills, other times they randomly

sprayed the battlefield with personal expressions.

Design manifestos are produced at all conceptual levels

and in all physical sizes, from simplicity to complexity.

Designers who have made it their mission to save the world,

and even those who have less ambitious goals, routinely

engage the environment in typographic installations that

express their principles or state of mind. Often they are

enigmas designed to make the passersby think about what

it means to them. “You’re Not My Type” (page 163) written

large on an empty park gate, appears to be a message about

human relations—or is it more enigmatically abstract? Is it

about types of people or typographies? The interpretation

is in the mind of the viewer.

A manifesto is a double-edged sword. It can articulate

goals and desires in an honest and inspiring way. It can

also be perceived as so much babble—pretentious at

best—and best ignored. A true manifesto is an expression

of personal truth and will make those who do not agree

wince. And that’s the point. A manifesto should be a

declaration of war against complacency. At the very least

it should trigger thinking.

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Some of these typographic expressions are little

more than fortune cookie exhortations. “Everyone Must

Take Time to Sit and Watch the Leaves Turn” (page 166)

has a greeting card cadence—and looks that way too.

“Everything’s Gonna Be Alright” (page 195) dug into

the soil of a field and photographed from above, has

the cookie sentiment but a more raw appearance.

Conversely, “Hurry Up” (page 173), composed of huge

bones hanging in a gallery space, or “Fail Harder”

(page 181), painted on a large canvas in white on gray,

have a more world-weary tone.

Universal expressions often begin as personal ones.

Stefan Sagmeister’s “Confidence Produces Fine Results”

(page 176), a typographic installation made of green and

yellow bananas that turn brown as they ripen, obliterating

the message, offers a low-impact, decidedly self-interpretive

message with resonance for many who receive it.

This manner of personal expression has also been

co-opted by advertisers to sell a product. The billboard

for Levi’s (page 180), composed of three rows each with

nine moving gears, with fragments of letterforms, which

when lined up says “We Are All Workers,” is a clever

way of presenting a mystery and providing a “reveal,” in

the form of an empirical statement. We Are All Workers

seems to imply that we are all in this (whatever this is)

together and Levi’s is the glue.

In terms of beauty, many of the expressions in this

section are rendered with pristine elegance. “Conscience”

(page 178) is written with dew drops on a leaf, “People” is

formed by costumed Korean dancers holding semicircular

fans, and “Good” and “Great” (page 179) are formed by

red and yellow apples held up high by a procession of

attractive girls dressed in white lace tops and golden

skirts. Yet the most striking for its aesthetic richness and

cultural significance is “Depends on Each Person” (page

178) designed as a wedding day henna tattoo on the

hand of a young woman.

Expression in this typographic format will rarely be

too lengthy. Too many words spoil the rhythm (and it

is pedantic, too). The most effective are epigrams that

read quickly yet linger in the consciousness. “You Don’t

Matter” (page 183), a sequence of expressive letterforms,

is among the most haunting. But “Grow” (page 194),

written in script made from moss, eloquently says it all.

stop, think, go, do

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Wild at Heart

Studio: Anna Garforth

Art Director, Designer, Photographer, Illustrator,

Typographer: Anna Garforth

“I woke up one day,” says Garforth, “went

for a run in the forest and then made this

piece.”

Explorers/Art Housed in Area Development

Client: Treaty of Utrecht

Studio: Autobahn

Designer: Autobahn

Photographer: Marieke Wijntjes

six : express

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