The Whitney Tapes
May 2023
On May 21, 2013, the Whitney Museum of American Art released its new graphic language – a system that was created by us. Right after the launch, we were bombarded with Whitney-related interviews (mostly from design and art magazines) – interviews we felt were necessary to answer, if only because we felt a special responsibility towards the museum to do so.
A selection of these interviews can be found below. Re-reading these old transcripts, it’s really clear how our answers are slowly mutating and evolving throughout the texts, while we were trying to respond to the given questions in slightly different ways, constantly repositioning and altering our arguments. Most of the questions were critical, some were sceptical, some were even quite hostile – going through the interviews, you notice how our tone sometimes shifts, answering the attacks as if we were playing a game a chess. It sure makes for an awkward read – but we still hope that, somewhere in-between the lines, we make some worthwhile points (on topics as varied as Punk vs. Prog, the subversive dimensions of Wim Crouwel, the graphic language of Provo, and Hurricane Sandy).
The title we originally gave to this old folder of interviews was ‘The Whitney Tapes’ – a nonsensical title, as all these interviews were conducted through e-mail (and thus were never actually captured on tape). Still, the title stuck, that’s why we kept using it.
In celebration of the 10-year-anniversary of the graphic language of the Whitney, we decided to share the folder of interviews here. Enjoy!
A selection of these interviews can be found below. Re-reading these old transcripts, it’s really clear how our answers are slowly mutating and evolving throughout the texts, while we were trying to respond to the given questions in slightly different ways, constantly repositioning and altering our arguments. Most of the questions were critical, some were sceptical, some were even quite hostile – going through the interviews, you notice how our tone sometimes shifts, answering the attacks as if we were playing a game a chess. It sure makes for an awkward read – but we still hope that, somewhere in-between the lines, we make some worthwhile points (on topics as varied as Punk vs. Prog, the subversive dimensions of Wim Crouwel, the graphic language of Provo, and Hurricane Sandy).
The title we originally gave to this old folder of interviews was ‘The Whitney Tapes’ – a nonsensical title, as all these interviews were conducted through e-mail (and thus were never actually captured on tape). Still, the title stuck, that’s why we kept using it.
In celebration of the 10-year-anniversary of the graphic language of the Whitney, we decided to share the folder of interviews here. Enjoy!
The Post-Whitney Interviews (selection)
(Rough, unedited versions)
(Rough, unedited versions)
Interview Gizmodo, May 29, 2013
1.
Designing a logo or identity for an institution that deals with modern art or design is a unique problem. What was the biggest challenge associated with the design for the Whitney?
The challenges were many, but one of the main subjects we tried to explore was the notion of a graphic identity that wouldn’t consists of a static, single logo, but one that would be able to change shape, reacting to ever-changing proportions and surfaces. So one of the puzzles we had to solve was the question whether a graphic language could be dynamic and consistent at the same time. It were the specific demands of the Whitney Museum that challenged us to explore this approach, and really push our limits.
2.
Is there one particularly successful example of another identity that you looked at as a precedent? Anything from the past?
One graphic identity that has always been very inspirational to us is the body of work that Wim Crouwel created between the early ’60s and the early ’80s for the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam. A lot of people regard Wim Crouwel as a very systematic, rational functionalist (a description Crouwel himself would immediately agree with), but we do believe that if you really look at his work, you’ll see that it actually has a very playful, poetic (and even subversive) dimensions.
Interview Large, May 30, 2013
1.
How would you summarize your intervention for the Whitney Museum?
We’ve never been really comfortable with the word ‘identity’, as it comes with too much psychological connotations. So personally, we rather speak of a ‘graphic language’ – a system of signs that we created so that it can be used by others (in this case, the graphic design department of the Whitney) to construct their own narratives with.
It is in fact a very concise language – a vocabulary of a dozen (or so) different elements. One of these elements is a W-shaped line-drawing, which changes shape according to the given proportions, the given surface, the remaining space. Other elements include the use of a specific typeface, a specific way of displaying the reproduced artworks, etc.
Nowadays, we notice that a lot of people are questioning the idea that a museum actually needs a consistent graphic voice. Shouldn’t the artwork be allowed to speak for itself, without a graphic intervention? We don’t really agree with this line of reasoning. After all, an art institute is a mediated (and mediating) environment – and in our opinion, you should be totally honest about that. There is no such thing as the artwork ‘in itself’ – a painting by Andy Warhol, hanging in the Whitney Museum, tells a different story than a Warhol piece hanging in the Museum of Modern Art. And that’s why we think that an Andy Warhol painting, shown on a poster by the Whitney, should appear in a different way than an Andy Warhol painting shown on a poster by the MoMA.
Instead of pretending that these institutes are invisible, we think it’s much more honest to make them visible, in a material and graphic way.
2.
Why did you choose to share some thoughts on the design process for the presentation of this visual identity on your website? In other words, why did you adopt this didactic and thorough method of showing your work?
The writing was an important part of the design process – in fact, a lot of the printed presentations that we gave to the Whitney included long texts written by ourselves (on subjects such as the relationship between art and representation, site-specific languages, the different historical locations of the Whitney in NY, the relationship between American art and European art, etc.). In these writings, we tried to reflect on the Whitney project, while organizing our thoughts about it. We’re not really gifted writers at all, but we couldn’t work without it.
And since the writing was such an important part of the process, we felt it was only natural to also show one of these texts on our website. We know that some people thought this text was too long – but really, it is nothing compared to the amount of text we wrote during the actual process.
Having said that, we obviously don’t think it is necessary to read our text in order to understand the graphic system – we regard our text more as additional information, only intended for the small group of people interested in the background story. After all, the graphic system itself was presented on the website of the Whitney, where people could find the official pictures, and the actual press release.
The text on our own website was only intended for the few people who were looking for the story behind it. But we do think the graphic system is perfectly understandable without having read this background information.
3.
What is at stake in developing a flexible identity?
The graphic system we developed gives the designer a lot of freedom to improvise – it is based on a strict set of rules, but those rules can be interpreted in different ways. In every situation, the W-shaped line-drawing will behave in a different way – so every piece of printed matter, even the smallest advertisement, becomes a creative puzzle to solve. It is not a matter of sticking a single, static logo underneath a reproduction of an artwork – in the case of the Whitney, the designers really have to engage with the system, in a very active way.
So this graphic system only functions when the designers (the in-house design department of the Whitney) are indeed capable of this kind of active engagement. And having seen the work they created, we know they are fully able to do this. We think they are handling the system in a fantastic way, coming up with results we haven’t even thought of.
4.
A part of your text discusses the idea of authorship in a complicated project which involves several designers in the chain of production. What would your spontaneous reaction be if your assignment was to work with an identity created by someone else?
That’s an interesting question! We have actually never been in such a situation, in which we were asked to work within a graphic system created by someone else; but we have been in projects in which we were specifically asked to work with an already-existing logo (see for example the RMN logo we redesigned in 2006). Also, there have been cases in which we chose ourselves to refer to a logo from the past (for instance the graphic system we designed in 2004 for Stedelijk Museum CS, in which we referred to Crouwel’s classic SM acronym). In other words, we did come across very similar situations.
In general, we think we would certainly consider the hypothetical assignment you mentioned. Because we do believe it should be possible to find a sense of freedom within a system, no matter how strict it is. We would probably fail tragically, but that’s another story.
5.
What do you think about French graphic design?
We have a lot of admiration for French graphic design. In fact, the walls we have in our living rooms are mainly empty, but the few posters we have hanging on these walls are for the most part French (we have some original prints by Atelier Populaire des Beaux-Arts, some affiches designed by Jean Widmer for Centre de Creation Industrielle, etc.). We recently bought Michel Wlassikoff’s ‘Histoire du Graphisme en France’ (Les Arts Decoratifs, 2008), and it was a perfect reminder of the amazing richness of French graphic design. We were huge fans of comics in the ’80s, so, we were especially delighted to revisit Etienne Robial’s work for Metal Hurlant, A Suivre, etc. And then there’s Jacno, Roman Cieslewicz, Grapus, William Klein, Pierre Faucheux, M/M... We could go on and on.
Point is, our ways of thinking and working are shaped to a large degree by French movements such as surrealism, existentialism, the Lettrist International, the Situationist International, nouveau realisme, etc. So it’s only logical that we are so interested in French graphic design; in it, we can still feel the traces of these movements.
6.
Bonus question: Do you have something to say to the International Poster and Graphic Design Festival of Chaumont?
Let’s try to keep this international graphic design subculture (of small studios, independent designers and students) alive. Everybody is going through rough times right now – economically, financially, politically. But if we stick together, and try to keep an open mind towards each other, we might be able to make it through this crisis. It is solidarity that will pull us through.
Interview Wired, May 31, 2013
1.
I read your memo on the evolution of The Responsive W – can you recount the moment when you first realized that this design was a winner?
To be honest, it was only quite recently that we realized in which way this design is in fact a “winner”. The moment we saw the items that were produced by the graphic design department of the Whitney was the actual moment that we felt the whole thing ‘clicked’. We gave all we could in this project, and we designed countless templates, manuals, models and examples; but all these items make up only half of the story. The other half of the story is the actual application, and we really think the Whitney in-house designers excelled themselves. You can see they really put their heart in it, coming up with results we never even dreamed of. So even more than the positive reactions (yes, there were some), it was the application that made us realize the project was a success.
2.
You also wrote about the Whitney’s rejection of your fully-typographical proposal. Can you talk a little bit about how this presented a challenge, given the work Experimental Jetset is used to doing? To what extent do you feel like you pushed your boundaries with the Whitney project?
The Whitney definitely pushed our boundaries, and the graphic identity (including the whole notion of the ‘Responsive W’) is a direct result of an ongoing dialogue that has been going on for almost two years (from the summer of 2011 to the spring of 2013, basically). We couldn’t have come up with this specific result in any other context.
To give a very concrete example – very early on in the process, our proposals were indeed either fully typographical, or they featured several images at the same time (we thought this ‘multi-image approach’ would refer to the typical way of hanging artworks in the studios and salons during the early days of the Whitney). Also, in these proposals, we used a more traditional ‘logo’ – a zigzag which could be read as the acronym WM (for ‘Whitney Museum’), which we used in a fairly static way.
The feedback we received on these proposals was quite clear – the Whitney really preferred a ‘single-image’ approach, and they disliked the acronym WM (as they wanted the emphasis to be on ‘Whitney’ rather than on ‘Whitney Museum’).
So we went back to the drawing board, stuck with the ‘single image’, and a simplified zigzag (one that didn’t refer anymore to WM, but just to W). When we tried to combine these two elements, we automatically came across the idea of a ‘Responsive W’ – a zigzag that would always be reacting to the remaining space, to the given proportions. We immediately understood the conceptual implications, and the fact that this ‘Responsive W’ would refer really well to most of the given specifications (for example, the demand that the graphic identity should express the idea that the Whitney is ‘never fixed’, and ‘always changing’). So really, the whole notion of the ‘Responsive W’ was a direct result of the meetings with the Whitney (of which we had many).
But the above example only refers to something very technical – while, in fact, our boundaries were also pushed on a more theoretical (and even ideological) level. We can still remember the first meeting, when we had to answer some pretty serious questions – for example, what is the added value of an European design studio for an American museum? When does the graphic identity of a museum becomes too corporate? Questions like that.
During the meetings we had with the Whitney, we constantly had to deal with very critical questions – but the discussions were always constructive. We really left those meetings wiser.
3.
Along those same lines, were there any non-negotiables for you guys? Meaning, were there any aspects of Experimental Jetset’s work and identity that you felt you had to include and how are they represented in the Whitney’s new graphic identity?
Well, as a studio, we have very specific conceptual and aesthetic principles – so in that sense, there are certainly principles that we won’t negotiate. But during the course of the Whitney project, we never ended up in a position in which we had to negotiate these principles. After all, it were exactly our conceptual and aesthetic ideas that made the Whitney choose us. So they were fully aware of our sensibilities and capabilities – they didn’t expect us to go against our own principles. That just wouldn’t make sense.
You have to realize that the selection procedure was quite rigorous. The Whitney did a lot of research on the design studios they eventually interviewed. They fully knew what to expect when they chose us.
4.
What is the first thing you think about when a place like the Whitney comes to you and says, “we want a new identity?” What are the considerations and the responsibilities?
Our first consideration is the sense of responsibility (and also a slight feeling of guilt) we feel towards old graphic identity. When it comes down to it, we’re not the sort of people who think that everything should be redesigned constantly. We feel that graphic design, despite the fact that it is often seen as ephemeral matter, should still have a sense of longevity, of continuity. And we actually really liked the old Whitney logo (designed by J. Abbott Miller of Pentagram).
But on the other hand, we also very much believe in the notion of the ‘site-specific’ graphic identity – the idea that a graphic identity should say something about the material environment of the institute. The old Whitney logo is actually a perfect example of that – its robust and block-like appearance really echoes the beautiful, Brutalist architecture of the Breuer building.
So in our view, the upcoming relocation of the Whitney fully justifies the graphic redesign. The Whitney will move to a totally new location, double the space of the current building – it’s only logical that the graphic identity should respond to that.
5.
Very briefly and generally, how does the new graphic identity reflect where the Whitney is in 2013?
When we started working on the project, it was still unresolved whether the launch of the graphic identity should take place before, or in tandem with, the opening of the new building. That decision was only taken a couple of months after we started working on it. We actually think it was a really good decision, as it creates an interesting overlap, an interesting ‘ripple in time’. For the next two years, the graphic identity will serve as a sort of reminder of the future Whitney. It’s as if the new building is already apparent in the current building. A collision of the future and the past, in the present; something like that.
The person who wrote the official text on the Whitney website put it in a really good way, when s/he wrote that, in the upcoming two years, the graphic identity will serve as a sort of “point of continuity […] during the transition to the new space”. So that’s a good way of describing it.
6.
Lastly, I’m curious about your thoughts on detractors saying the design is “soulless” or “boring.” Of course, everyone is entitled to his/her opinion, and I’m sure you don’t concern yourself with naysayers, but I’d be interested to hear about where you see the soul and excitement in your design.
We understand that some people might regard this whole idea of the ‘Responsive W’ as a somewhat minimal (if not minimalist) gesture. And generally speaking, minimal structures offer a lot of space for interpretation. They require something from the viewer – an active eye, an active mind. You can not just sit back, let the story unfold, and be entertained in a passive way – you have to add your own references, your own views to it.
Somebody explained us once that Zen gardens are asymmetrical for exactly this reason. The asymmetry forces the viewer to complete the garden in his/her own mind. The garden tells only half the story – the other half should be provided by the visitor of the garden. It encourages an active way of viewing, rather than a passive one. (We don’t know whether this person was right, but we did like this story).
Now, to be clear, we actually think that the graphic identity we came up with for the Whitney comes already loaded with all kinds of ideas and references; we certainly wouldn’t want to compare it to a silent Zen garden. But still, we also like to believe that we did manage to leave open some space – some space for interpretation, some space for the viewer to fill in him/herself. People unwilling to engage with the design in such a way might experience this space as a sense of ‘lacking’ – lacking soul, lacking fun. But in the end, we believe that you can only get something out of it if you are willing to put something in it. To say that a design is soulless is the same thing as disliking a mirror for what you see in it. In the end, it’s not the design that is soulless, and it’s not the mirror that is having a bad hair day.
Interview Creative Review, June 3, 2013
1.
Did you feel there was anything wrong with the Whitney’s former identity, by Pentagram?
We didn’t think there was anything wrong with the previous graphic identity (we actually really liked it) – and neither did the Whitney think there was anything wrong with it. But as you might already know, the Whitney had very valid reasons to initiate the redesign of their graphic identity.
As for ourselves – as graphic designers, whenever we are approached for a redesign project, we always feel very responsible towards the ‘old’ graphic identity. When it comes down to it, we’re not the sort of people who think that everything should be redesigned constantly. We feel that graphic design, despite the fact that it is often seen as ephemeral matter, should still have a sense of longevity, of continuity. And as we already wrote, we actually really liked the old Whitney logo (which was indeed designed by J. Abbott Miller of Pentagram).
But on the other hand, we also think one should respect the ‘site-specificity’ of a graphic identity – the fact that some of the best graphic identities refer, in one way or another, to the material environment of the institute. A very obvious example of such a site-specific graphic identity would be the logo that Jean Widmer created in 1977 for the Centre Pompidou, which is basically an abstract, schematic representation of the building. The former logo of the Whitney is actually a perfect example as well – its robust and block-like appearance really echoes the beautiful, Brutalist architecture of the Breuer building.
So in our view, the upcoming relocation of the Whitney fully justifies the graphic redesign. The Whitney will move to a totally new location, double the space of the current building – it’s only logical that the graphic identity should respond to that.
We’ve been in very similar situations – for example, in 2004 we developed the graphic identity of Stedelijk Museum CS (SMCS) – a graphic identity that contained all kinds of references to the temporary building in which the institute was housed. When, in 2008, the museum returned to its original location, we only found it logical that ‘our’ graphic identity for SMCS came to an end. It simply ran its course. The graphic identity simply wouldn’t have made sense in any other building.
The graphic identity we designed for the Whitney isn’t site-specific in such a literal way – after all, the notion that “the Whitney is an idea, not a building” (an actual quote by Flora Miller Biddle, the granddaughter of Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney) is an important part of the museum’s philosophy. And yet, we hope that the new graphic identity still refers to some of the qualities of the new building. The spaciouness, the flexibility, the openness – we hope that these properties are somehow encapsulated in the new graphic identity.
In that sense, you could say that the Breuer building relates to the Piano building in the same way that the new graphic identity relates to the previous one. The fact that, in a recent tweet, J. Abbott Miller remarked that he thought that the new Whitney identity was fantastic, and in the same sentence said goodbye to the Breuer building, sort of underlines the idea that the previous logo really belonged to the Breuer building.
2.
Some may ask, if the aim is to emphasise the space around artworks, why try to fill it (with the ‘W’)? Doesn’t this suggest the museum is attempting to draw attention to itself, rather than the art?
It would be an oversimplification to say that our sole aim was to emphasise the space around the artworks – but indeed, we do believe that, in order to make space visible, you have to somehow define it, measure it. Just think of the W-shaped line as a sort of measuring device. True, there’s a paradox at the heart of this (to reveal an open space is also to enclose it) – but it was exactly this tension between ‘closed’ and ‘open’ we were searching for.
As for the second part of your question (whether the ‘Responsive W’ is overpowering the reproduced artworks) – maybe we should answer this in a really practical way. A very important part of the question that the Whitney asked us was to come up with a graphic identity that could be both “turned up” and “turned down” – almost like controlling the volume. And in fact, there are many ways in which the ‘Responsive W’ can be used in a more controlled way. In situations where a reproduced artwork needs more space to breathe, there are plenty of methods to prevent the ‘Responsive W’ to take up all remaining space – for example, by placing the typography in such a way that it literally blocks the W-shaped line.
Also, don’t forget that the ‘Responsive W’ can literally collapse in a flat line. During the design process, we made many sketches showing series of Ws in progressive degrees of ‘W-ness’ – and we always envisioned the flat line as the first possible W, a sort of ‘W at degree zero’.
One of these sketches made its way to the notebook that’s now part of the stationery – but the most perfect example of the W turning into a flat line can be seen on the website (beautifully executed by Linked by Air). The moment you scroll down, the W turns into a flat line – after which all the flat lines on the website suddenly reveal themselves to be part of the system.
So in general, there’s no need to be worried that the ‘Responsive W’ will overpower the reproduced artworks – there are many ways to ‘turn down’ the volume, if necessary. It’s only logical that, for the ‘launch’ of the graphic identity, the system is shown in a somewhat more ‘turned up’ way – but if the situation asks for it, the volume can certainly be lowered.
On a more individual note – we realize that there is a school of thought that claims that, when it comes to graphic identities for museums, the art institute should be almost invisible, in order to “let the art speak for itself”. On a strictly personal level, we don’t really subscribe to this way of thinking.
After all, an art institute is a mediated (and mediating) environment – and in our opinion, you should be totally honest about that. There is no such thing as the artwork ‘in itself’ – if you display an Andy Warhol painting in the Whitney Museum, it will tell a different story than when you’ll display that same painting in another museum. Depending on the museum in which the painting is displayed, it will become part of a different narrative, a different history, a different tradition.
And that’s why we think that an Andy Warhol painting, shown on a poster by the Whitney, should appear in a different way than an Andy Warhol painting shown on a poster by any other museum. Instead of pretending that these institutes are invisible, we think it’s much more honest to make them visible, in a material and graphic way.
That’s why we personally don’t have a problem with graphic identities that manifest themselves in a bold and outspoken way. In fact, when you look at some of the posters Wim Crouwel produced for the Stedelijk Museum, you’ll see that he wasn’t afraid to simply overprint the SM acronym on top of the reproduced artwork (see for example the poster Crouwel made in 1969 for the Lucebert show at the Stedelijk). Those posters are brutally honest in their message: when you go to the Stedelijk, you won’t see the paintings ‘in themselves’, as if they are floating in space – you’ll see the paintings as they are hanging in the Stedelijk (that is, in a very concrete and material environment).
Personally, we really admire such a confrontational approach. However, this is not what we did for the Whitney. For the Whitney, we did include, in the graphic identity, many possibilities to “turn down the volume”. So there’s really no need to be worried about the ‘Responsive W’ overpowering the reproductions.
3.
Are you concerned by the nature of the reaction, especially in the US, to the new identity? Many of the criticisms claim that the responsive W demands too much attention next to reproductions of art, and that the identity is ‘ugly’ and ‘boring’!
As for the misconception that the ‘Responsive W’ will overpower the reproduced artworks – we already addressed that issue in our previous answer. Regarding the fact that some people refer to our work as “ugly” and “boring”; we have been hearing that sort of criticism for over 15 years now, from the very start of our career (if you can call it that) – so we have to admit that we grew somewhat immune to it. We did however felt very responsible towards the Whitney, and were worried that they might be shocked to have suddenly all these criticisms hurled at them. But we spoke to them about it, and they weren’t worried at all. So that was quite a relief.
You have to realize that the real critiques took place in the boardrooms, during the many meetings we had with the Whitney. We had to explain our ideas to every department, one by one. We did presentations in front of curators, trustees, all kinds of staff involved with education, development, production, marketing. This is where we were asked the more challenging questions (and where we had the chance to actually answer those questions): What is the added value of an European design studio for an American museum? When does a graphic identity becomes too corporate? How to combine a sense of ‘gravitas’ with a sense of flexibility? Etc. etc.
In other words, this is where the real constructive criticism happened. We always left those boardrooms wiser. So you can imagine, after such a rigorous process (a process that almost took two years), all these online comments and tweets seem very lightweight.
And besides, we actually thought the overall response was quite positive. We have seen, from quite nearby, the totally unjustified backlash against the recent graphic identities of both the Stedelijk Museum and Rijksmuseum – so we were actually prepared for something akin to that. But overall, the overall reactions were much more positive than we expected.
We realize that there were quite some negative online comments, but these seemed to be concentrated on a very small number of specific weblogs. In no way do we see those comments as representative for the ‘design community’ in general, or the community at large.
In fact, reading these negative comments and tweets, it quickly becomes clear that the angry tone is caused by much deeper-rooted feelings of bitterness and disappointment. These people are using the graphic identity an an excuse to air their personal frustrations. In that sense, the graphic identities that are being discussed on those weblogs almost serve as lightning rods. For some people, to attack these graphic identities has apparently a certain cathartic merit; they just need to get something out of their system.
What also really infuriated some people was the long, essay-sized text we posted on our own website.
The actual graphic identity was introduced on the website of the Whitney – which is where you could read the official text, and you could see the finished items (together with a small movie that we made). So basically, this information would be enough to understand the new graphic identity.
But still, we felt the need to post, on our own website, some personal reflections on the development of the graphic identity. This text was written in the tone in which we always discuss our work on our website – free-associating, slightly ‘stream-of-consciousness’. The small group of people who are following our work on our website might immediately recognize this personal tone of voice, but to many new visitors, this tone apparently came as a total shock. You could sense the fury: how dare they compare a simple zigzag with a heartbeat, or with a movement through the city?
It’s funny – many critics always argue that “designers should write more”, but the moment you actually write a text, critics are the first to immediately tear it apart, isolating every single sentence to ridicule your text. With the long texts we usually write, we are basically handing out ammunition to the critics. We are very easy targets.
For example, in the long text we wrote about the Whitney, we reflected a little on the European undercurrents in the history of the Whitney (as can be found, for example, in the Breuer building). Obviously, as European designers, these undercurrents interested us quite a bit. But as could be expected, an art critic isolated some single sentences, and tried to frame us as some sort of euro-centric idiots. Completely lazy and unjust criticism.
(The same art-critic then went on to describe the new graphic identity as “so five years ago”, which is typical for the paternalistic view that some critics hold when it comes to graphic design. They would never describe a painting, or a sculpture, as “five years ago” – but when it comes to a graphic identity, they have no problem to discuss it as if it’s some sort of fad, some sort of fashion; as if they are discussing the length of a skirt. Again, such a lazy form of criticism).
So in retrospect, you might wonder if posting this long text on our website was the right thing to do. But we figured that there is simple no right way of doing this. You’ll get attacked anyway – whether you offer a long or short explanation, or no explanation at all. So we thought that if we were going to face a blizzard of criticism, we might as well do it in our usual way – by writing a personal text, and posting it on our website, for better or for worse.
4.
You talk at the end of the essay about authorship, and about the EJ ‘signature’ being lost in the execution of the identity. But doesn’t the system have a very strong EJ flavour to it?
As for the “EJ signature being lost in the execution of the graphic identity” – in the text you refer to, we were actually trying to say the opposite. The point of that whole paragraph was to point out that, no matter how much the graphic identity will change over time, we believe that it will always be possible to locate our ‘fingerprint’ in it, however small. In the same way, we think that it will also be possible to locate the ‘fingerprints’ of all the other designers involved in this project.
You have to realize that the essay-like text, as we posted it on our website, is actually an abridged version of the introduction we wrote to the Whitney Graphic Manual. In that last paragraph, we are speaking directly to the current and future designers of the Whitney design department. It’s very much a paragraph about sharing authorship – we are simple saying that we hope that, in the same way that we were able to find a sense of freedom within the specifications and demands of the Whitney, other designers will find the same sense of freedom within the graphic language we developed for them.
Regarding this idea of co-authorship – we actually believe that, in the finished items, you can already sense this. We think the designers of the Whitney design department really excelled themselves – it’s impossible to see where our work stops, and their work begins. They came up with results we didn’t even dreamed of.
As for the system having a very strong “EJ flavour to it” – we don’t necessarily agree with this. You have to realize that the main ‘building blocks’ of the graphic identity are elements we really have never worked with before.
For example, this whole idea of a responsive, W-shaped line is something we obviously never used in earlier projects – it is a very specific response to a very particular set of demands. The same goes for the typeface, Neue Haas Grotesk. We have never used it before – and we probably won’t use it in the near future, at least not for graphic identities. To us, the typeface is now simply too ‘Whitney-related’ to be used in similar assignments. (We are fully aware that there exists this myth that “EJ always uses Helvetica”, but when it comes to graphic identities for museums, this is simply not true – for example, for SMCS we used Univers, for Le Cent Quatre we used Futura, etc.).
Finally, we think that the use of images – and more specifically, the use of reproduced artworks – is not very typical for us. For example, between 2007 and 2012, we made lots of posters for NAiM / Bureau Europa, a museum in Maastricht; but not a single one of those posters ever featured a reproduction. We either kept the posters fully typographical, or we created the images ourselves (as collages, or illustrations). This was always a matter of principle. So the fact that, for the Whitney project, we came up with an approach that revolves around the use of reproductions of artworks – that is indeed very atypical for us.
So in that sense, we really think that the main ingredients of the graphic identity are not “EJ-flavoured”.
Having said that – we realize that a small group of people (a very tiny circle of graphic designers aware of our work) might recognize a certain tone of voice, a certain dialect, in this graphic identity. (This might be what you describe as a “flavour”). But this tone of voice is not something we are ashamed of. It’s our natural voice, our authentic way of talking. We’re not like actors who need a wig and a funny voice for every different role. We’re more the sort of actors who use their own faces, and their own voices – but still know how to perform.
Interview DesignBoom, June 10, 2013
1.
Please could you tell us briefly about the evolution of Experimental Jetset? How you came to meet and decide to start working together? How you divide / share your workload?
We all met at the Rietveld Academy, when we were students. As their graduation project, Marieke and Danny were working on the re-design of Blvd. (a Dutch pop-culture magazine, now defunct), and they asked Erwin, who was in another class (a year below), to help them out. This all happened in 1997.
As for the way we divide/share our workload – in general, we do everything with the three of us. As we already mentioned in previous interviews – we aren’t really proper football fans, but as a model for the studio, we always have to think about an interview we once saw on Dutch TV, in which legendary player Johan Cruijff explained the concept of ‘Totaal Voetbal’ (‘Total Football’, or ‘Total Soccer’), and that was really inspirational. Total Football is a system where a player who moves out of his position can be replaced by any other player from the same team. So the roles aren’t fixed; any player has the ability to be attacker, defender or midfielder.
In short, our ideal is to stay away from fixed roles. When dealing with stress and deadlines, we sometimes fall back into certain roles, but we try very hard to avoid that. Our intention is that the workload is divided equally, and that each one of us has more or less the same set of skills.
2.
Which have been your most significant and satisfying projects to date?
Right now, we would the say that the two projects that really pushed our boundaries have been the exhibition ‘Two or Three Things I Know About Provo’, and the graphic identity of the Whitney Museum. These two projects have been the most satisfying, in the sense that they both required us to function to our full abilities. Writing, reading, researching, designing for printed matter and signage, even working with sound and moving image – in both projects, we did all that.
We worked on both projects during the same period (the years of 2011 and 2012), and in retrospect, they have a lot in common. Sure, at first sight, they seem worlds apart – developing the graphic identity for the Whitney was a very strict process, involving dozens of meetings and presentations, while curating ‘Two or Three Things I Know About Provo’ was a much more improvised, low-budget affair. And while ‘Two or Three Things’ dealt with a subject that was very close to our heart, our role at the Whitney project was basically that of relative outsiders But despite these differences, both projects did require the same level of energy, the same kind of intensity.
Also, both projects were very city-specific. ‘Two or Three Things’ was an exhibition about Provo, an anarchist movement that was very much shaped by the city of Amsterdam (by the same token, Amsterdam was shaped by Provo).
And the graphic identity of the Whitney was very much grounded in the city of New York – in the sense that, during the design process, it became clear to us that the shape of the ‘zigzag’ could refer to things such as the ziggurat-shape of the architecture (of both the current and future building of the Whitney), or the iconic fire-escape stairs in the streets of New York, or the zigzag-like path of the Whitney Museum through Manhattan, throughout the years.
Also, we did a lot of research into the history of the Whitney Museum, and the history of American modernism in general – the specific moment that Europe stopped being the center of modern art, and New York became the new capitol. So, in the Whitney project as well as in ‘Two or Three Things’, we really tried to explore this notion of ‘city-specificity’.
3.
What is the attraction of printed matter (and physical installations) over digital mediums?
Right after graduating from the Rietveld Academy, we read Guy Debord’s ‘The Society of the Spectacle’ (1967), and it had an huge influence on us. In retrospect, our reading of it might perhaps been a bit literal, or perhaps naïve; but nevertheless, the book had a profound impact on our work. The way we interpreted the essay at the time, Debord was describing the alienating consequences of a world consisting of nothing but images, projections and illusions (the ‘spectacle’, so to speak). From the moment we read Debord’s book, we have attempted to go against the illusionary effect of images – and in the case of our work, this basically meant that we have always tried to emphasize the physical dimensions of graphic design. In other words, whenever we make a piece of printed matter, we try to underline the fact that this piece is first of all a thing, an object – a sheet of paper, printed with ink. By folding, overprinting, perforating, tearing, and leaving patches of paper unprinted, we try to prevent the viewer/reader to be captured in the illusion of an image.
We know, this might all sound hopelessly theoretical, but nevertheless, it really is the key to understanding our work. (Even the graphic identity of the Whitney can be regarded in such a way. After all, the ‘Responsive W’ can be seen as a sort of ‘measuring device’, revealing the proportions of the sheet, making the viewer/reader aware of the physical dimensions of it).
Anyway – it is only logical that our ‘materialist’ outlook has also influenced our views on online media. Although a big part of our practice takes place online, we have to admit that we still feel a slight suspicion, or at least a certain uneasiness, towards the immateriality of online media. We really like objects to be grounded in some sort of material base – we simply prefer things to have a certain physical weight. This whole idea of ‘the cloud’ comes really close to Debord’s idea of ‘the spectacle’ – that’s why it makes us feel very uncomfortable.
But having said that – we certainly aren’t Luddites. We actually do a lot of programming and coding ourselves (see for example our own website).
4.
Helvetica features heavily in your portfolio – is there a reason why you find yourself drawn to using this typeface for many different purposes? Was there a reason why you decided not to use the typeface in your recent re-design of the Whitney identity?
Of course, it’s obviously not true that we always use Helvetica – but nevertheless, we can’t deny that the late-modernist graphic landscape in which we grew up (we’re talking about the Netherlands in the ’70s here) had a big influence on us. As a consequence, we feel as if this late-modernist vocabulary (of which Helvetica is undeniably a part) has become our authentic language, our mother tongue. It’s our everyday way of talking, our natural tone of voice. And it’s only logical that this late-modernist dialect can be detected all throughout our work. We’re simply not the kind of people who feel it’s necessary to suppress one’s own dialect.
But that doesn’t mean we always use the same typeface. Especially when you look at the graphic identities we designed for museums and cultural institutes, you’ll notice that we have used various typefaces, often for very specific conceptual reasons. For example, for the graphic identity we designed in 2004 for Stedelijk Museum CS (SMCS), we specifically used Univers, to refer to the history of the institute. And for the graphic identity we created in 2007 for Le Cent Quatre (104), we used Futura, so that the 104 logo could really be ‘embedded’ in the typeface. In other words, it’s a total myth that we always use Helvetica – but it’s an amusing myth, we have to admit.
As for the specific version of Neue Haas Grotesk (NHG) that we used for the graphic identity of the Whitney… We met Christian Schwartz back in 2009, during a type conference in Wellington, New Zealand; and during our conversation, Christian mentioned the version of NHG he was working on. Two years later, when we started to work on the Whitney, we remembered this conversation, and realized that NHG might be the right typeface for this project. We thought there was quite a fascinating link to be found between the two projects. On the one hand, there’s Christian Schwartz, an American designer working on his interpretation of a European typeface. And on the other hand, there’s us, a European design studio, working on our interpretation of the graphic identity of an American museum. We saw a really intriguing parallel there, an interesting ‘zigzag’ between Europe and the United States. We figured this could be an interesting extra little storyline to add to the graphic identity, as a sort of sub-sub-plot.
There were also more pragmatic reasons to use NHG. It’s a typeface that comes with a very wide variety of weights, styles and special characters – it can be used for all kinds of purposes (text, display, etc.), while still maintaining a consistent, graphic tone. (It was especially important for us that the word ‘Whitney’ would appear in the same typeface as the headline text, and the body text – we didn’t want a logo that would behave as a sort of alien element, completely separated from the rest of the text).
As it turned out, Hilary Greenbaum, head of the design department of the Whitney, knew Christian Schwartz personally, which also turned out to be a really happy coincidence. It was an ideal situation, as the design department could contact Christian Schwartz directly, to work out technical and practical details (for example, for the Whitney, Christian worked on a special digital version of NHG, which is used on the Whitney website).
5.
Do you think it’s important for a graphic designer to be able to draw?
That fully depends on one’s definition of drawing. In a way, we would argue that creating a typographic composition is a form of drawing as well – in the same way that drawing is essentially a form of writing. What is interesting about graphic design is exactly the fact that it is a field in which it is impossible to distinguish between writing and drawing, between the verbal and the visual.
This is already encapsulated in the etymology of the word ‘graphic’ – originally, the word is derived from the Proto-Indo-European base-word ‘grebh’, which simply means ‘to carve’ or ‘to scratch’; but in Greek times, the word ‘graphikos’ referred both to the act of drawing and writing. In a sense, we do believe that the current practice of graphic design still refers to this classic notion – the idea that writing is a form of drawing, and drawing is a form of writing.
6.
What do you think the most significant developments in graphic design have been in the last five years?
The crisis we currently find ourselves in. And we’re not talking about an aesthetic or conceptual crisis in graphic design – in fact, we think the work created by young graphic designers nowadays is more interesting than it was in previous decades. We’re really talking about the economic and political crisis that is taking place in society at large. And obviously, this crisis has a very dramatic effect on the current cultural landscape.
There used to be a time when cultural institutes and museums would really support independent studios, and young designers. But nowadays (mainly because of the whole mixture of neo-liberalism, privatization and populism that is currently forced upon us), a lot of cultural institutes (even the smaller ones) simply decide to play it safe, and choose to work with large branding and advertising agencies instead. In turn, these large advertising agencies then just hire some young designers, to do the ’cultural work’ for them – and just discard these young designers after the work is done. After all, for these large agencies, these cultural projects serve primarily to add some ‘depth’ to their corporate portfolios – but they wouldn’t want to actually invest in those cultural projects, in any intellectual or ideological way.
We feel there’s a really strange discrepancy going on – while young designers seem to be getting more and more intellectual and progressive, a lot of cultural institutes are actually trying to achieve a more populist tone, and getting more conservative. They seem to move in opposite directions – and we have no idea how this rift can ever be solved.
Young designers are currently producing a lot of very interesting work – but this production takes place on a more subcultural, isolated level: in the spheres of self-publishing, small exhibitions, underground projects. To survive, these young designers are either forced to work (or worse, to intern for free) for large corporate agencies, or they have to find a ‘day-time job’, outside of the field of graphic design. There seem to be fewer and fewer opportunities nowadays for young designers to just start their own small, independent studios, and inject their ideas straight into the public space – and we think that’s a real shame.
In harsh times like these, we think it’s really important for independent designers and small studios to stick together, and keep an open mind towards each other. Above all, we should maintain some sense of solidarity, of dignity. We might have our aesthetic or conceptual differences, but in the end, we’re all in the same boat. It’s so easy to constantly attack each other, but all this energy can be better put to use trying to actually survive.
7.
Besides graphic design what are each of you passionate about – and does that passion find its way into your work?
Music plays a large role in our life, and in our work. In previous interviews, we often mention the influence of punk – although we were too young to actively participate in the original punk explosion of 1977, we could still hear the echoes of this explosion throughout the ’80s, and it really inspired us. As teenagers, we were involved in all kinds of post-punk subcultures (two-tone ska, psychobilly, new wave, garage rock, mod, American hardcore, etc.), and all these movements shaped us in the most profound way. (In fact, it were post-punk relics such as record sleeves, buttons/badges, patches, DIY fanzines, mix-tapes, t-shirts and xeroxed mini-comics that made us aware of graphic design in the first place).
So in our work, we really try to synthesize all these (seemingly conflicting) influences: the language of late-modernism of the ’70s (which shaped us in an almost subconscious way, during our childhood years) and the post-punk landscape of the ’80s (which inspired us in a much more explicit way, during our teenage years). During the ’90s, we were in our twenties, and went to art academy while grunge was going on, which left some traces as well (don’t forget that our studio is named after a ’90s album by Sonic Youth).
8.
What is the best piece of advice you have ever been given? What is the worst piece of advice you have ever been given?
We really draw a blank here.
An advice that comes to mind is “never excuse, never explain”, which isn’t really an advise that someone actually gave to us – it’s more a sort of general remark we once came across. The quote is attributed to a lot of different people (sometimes also appearing as “never complain, never explain”), and we actually wouldn’t know if we’d consider it ‘good’ or ‘bad’ advice. But for some reason, we have been thinking a lot about this phrase, lately.
We write a lot about our work – not as an explanation, and certainly not as an excuse, but more because the activity of writing enables us to reflect on our own work, to look at our work from a bit of a distance. It’s really just a way of organizing our own thoughts. So when, around 2005, we decided to make our first proper website, we thought it would be interesting to include texts like these. Mainly because we don’t necessarily see our website as a portfolio, attracting possible clients – we see it more as a diary, or a personal archive. In fact, our texts would sooner scare away clients than attract them. Our website was always intended for the tiny group of people who were really interested in our work, in the stories behind it. Our writing, our tone of voice, is simply not for everyone – it’s quite a ’stream-of-consciousness’, long-winding, free-associating way of talking. The simple truth is, we aren’t proper writers, or professional academics, or real intellectuals – for us, the texts are just by-products of the labour of design. Nothing more (but certainly nothing less). So in that sense, we feel we have nothing to be embarrassed about.
On the other hand, we also realize that, by writing, we are basically handing out ammunition to our criticasters. It’s funny – many critics always argue that “designers should write more”, but the moment you actually write a text, critics are the first to immediately tear it apart, isolating every single sentence to ridicule your text. So we know we are making ourselves very vulnerable with these texts.
That’s why, sometimes, the idea of simply not writing anymore sounds very attractive. When we hear about authors or musicians who never do interviews, and never appear in public – we always find that quite fascinating. It sometimes makes us doubt whether we did the right thing, being so open and honest about our practice from the very beginning.
Interview YCN, June 17, 2013
1.
How did this project come about? Did you have to pitch for it against any US design studios?
In the spring of 2011, we received an e-mail from Rebecca Gimenez, then head of the graphic design department of the Whitney, inviting us for an interview. If we understood well, a dozen studios (both US and non-US) were interviewed. After these interviews, the selection process continued with a shortlist of four studios (of which we were the only studio without an office in the US). In the fall of 2011, we received the phone call that we were chosen to develop the new graphic identity of the Whitney.
What we thought was quite interesting about the whole selection process was the large role that the in-house graphic design department played in it. When we visited the Whitney for the first interview, we noticed that the design department prepared extensive files on a large number of design studios. They really did their research, and were for a large part responsible for the selection of the invited studios.
So we weren’t forced upon the design department, but chosen by the design department itself – which is obviously quite a compliment. It’s like being a composer who is invited by the musicians of an orchestra to write a piece for them. It creates a special bond.
2.
How many people were involved in creating it and what did their roles entail?
We always do everything ourselves – with the three of us. So for the Whitney, we did everything together – the research, the reading, the writing, the sketching, the designing, etc. In fact, we even did all the meetings and presentations together – sitting in those boardrooms as Huey, Dewey and Louie, finishing each others sentences.
On the side of the Whitney, there were obviously more parties involved. To name a few: the design department, currently headed by Hilary Greenbaum; the marketing department, headed by Jeff Levine; and the director, Adam Weinberg. Obviously, these people (together with a couple of others) played a large role in the whole process as well.
3.
Can you tell us about the idea behind the flexible ‘W’ graphic?
It’s basically a set of instructions, or notations. The designer assigned to execute these instructions (the ‘performer’, so to speak) first has to define a certain space, in which she then has to draw a series of four connected lines, in such a way that the result resembles a zigzag (or the letter W, depending on the way you choose to look at it).
In many ways, it can be compared with the rules of a instruction-based artwork, or musical notation, or a theatre script – the rules seem quite strict, but are at the same time quite open to interpretation. In other words, the shape won’t be determined in an algorithmic way, but is fully dependent on a human interpretation – the decisions made by the individual designer.
The result of these instructions will be this zigzag, which we see as a pretty ‘open’ sign, one that can be filled with all kinds of meanings: the letter W, the movement of the Whitney through Manhattan, an architectural ziggurat, etc. The flexibility of the shape is symbolic as well, representing the fact that the Whitney is always changing, and adapting itself to the dynamic conditions of art.
4.
What were the most challenging aspects of the creative process?
Translating all our sketches into an actual manual. To some people, we might come across as systematic designers, but our way of working is actually quite intuitive, maybe even impulsive. So it actually took us quite a while to transcribe all the templates that we made (and we designed dozens of them) in a comprehensive way.
Interestingly enough, when we recently showed the manual to Wim Crouwel, he told us it was the most systematic and complete guide he has ever seen in his career; which is almost unbelievable. Crouwel is such a systematic designer, and he must have seen thousands of manuals in his life – his remark completely baffled us.
5.
What did you enjoy most about working with the Whitney?
The whole atmosphere of mutual trust and understanding. Within the Whitney team, you could sense there was a real sense of involvement and engagement.
We still remember that one meeting that we had at the Whitney office, during Hurricane Sandy. The whole Whitney office was officially closed down, but we still went there, to have a meeting with Adam Weinberg, the director. When we arrived in the building, Adam was there on his own, like a captain guarding his ship. While a very serious storm took place, Adam still took the time to have that meeting with us. It might be an insignificant anecdote, but still, we think it captures some of the feeling of engagement and passion that we experienced within the Whitney.
6.
How has the response been to the project so far?
Hilary Greenbaum, head of the Whitney in-house design team, described the response as “delightfully polarized” – and we subscribe to that.
For us personally, the best response has been the application of the graphic identity. The moment we saw the items produced by the graphic design department of the Whitney was the actual moment that we felt the whole thing ‘clicked’. We gave all we could in this project, and we designed countless templates, manuals, models and examples; but all these items make up only half of the story. The other half of the story is the actual application, and we really think the Whitney designers excelled themselves. You can see they really put their heart in it, coming up with results we never even dreamed of.
7.
What other identity projects have impressed you recently?
The new graphic identity of the Stedelijk Museum, designed by Mevis & Van Deursen. It’s a visual language that seems very light and casual, but comes fully loaded, with all kinds of interesting associations (Mallarmé, Apollinaire, Concrete Poetry, etc.). When we first saw it, it took our breath away.
In a recent interview, Armand Mevis actually mentioned that one of their inspirations was the graphic identity we designed in 2004 for SMCS (Stedelijk Museum CS), which was a temporary location of the Stedelijk Museum. So that was quite flattering to hear.
8.
What did the selection process involve? What kind of work did you have to show during the interview?
A step-by-step breakdown of the process would probably have to start with the selection that took place internally, at the Whitney, when the in-house design department compiled a list of design studios they would like to work with – if we remember well, this list consisted of over 20 studios (both US and non-US). Of this list, a dozen (or so) were eventually invited, to be interviewed by the Whitney staff. During our interview, we simply had to present already-existing work.
Out of this group of twelve studios, and shortlist of four studios was selected. And that’s when it turned into a (paid) pitch.
Now, we actually find pitches really problematic, for a number of reasons. We usually turn down pitches immediately (we actually have a sort of standard reply mail, which we automatically send to institutes who approach us for a pitch; in that mail, we explain in detail why we are against pitches). And if we had known beforehand that the Whitney selection would end in a pitch, we probably would have said no at the very start. In fact, over the last couple of years, we have turned down some really interesting projects, because it involved pitching.
However, there were a couple of reasons why we decided to participate anyway. One of these reasons was the fact that we were simply too far drawn into the process to turn it down. We are only human – we were simply too curious to drop out of the process halfway.
Also, Rebecca Gimenez (then head of the internal design department) explained to us that the design department would really apprecaite it if we would participate, as we were the only small, European studio left on the shortlist – in other words, we were pretty much talked into it. Also, the pitch was a fully-paid assignment – it wasn‘t unpaid ’spec work’ or anything like that.
So after weighing the pros and cons, we decided to participate anyway. But it wasn’t an easy decision.
Interview Entrepreneur Magazine, June 27, 2013
1.
Where in the Netherlands are you located?
Amsterdam
2.
How many people are in your studio and who created the logo (first names and last)?
Experimental Jetset consists of three persons (Marieke Stolk, Erwin Brinkers and Danny van den Dungen), and all three of us contributed to the development of the graphic identity in equal parts.
3.
How did you feel about getting the opportunity to design the Whitney identity? What were your first thoughts?
Obviously, we felt very flattered. We also understood immediately the huge responsibility resting on our shoulders – the Whitney is such a well-respected and important museum, and they took quite a risk asking a small, European design studio for this project, so we really felt this project deserved all our energy and attention. We really gave it all we had.
4.
What past experience do you have in designing museum identities?
To mention a couple of examples: in 2004, we designed the graphic identity for Stedelijk Museum CS (SMCS), the temporary location of the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam. Two years later, we re-designed the logo of Réunion des Musées Nationaux (RMN), an ‘umbrella’ organization of French museums. In 2007, we developed the graphic identity of Le Cent Quatre (104), a cultural institute in Paris. Since 2007, we’ve been responsible for the graphic identity of NAiM / Bureau Europa, an architectural museum based in Maastricht. In addition to that, we’ve been involved in many other museum-related projects – exhibition design, installations, catalogues, art fairs, etc.
5.
What were the initial parameters and goals you were given for the project?
With a project that is so huge, it’s hard to give a brief run-down of the initial parameters and demands. The briefing was very precise, but also very extensive – we basically received an enormous cardboard box, containing dozens of documents and files, samples of all the previous graphic identities, detailed research reports and questionnaires, books on the history of the Whitney Museum, etc. Also, during the many meetings that we had at the Whitney, the demands were constantly refined. So it’s impossible to simply describe the briefing in a few short sentences.
If we had to put it in a very basic way – the upcoming relocation of the Whitney automatically implied that the institute felt the need to rethink their position within the cultural landscape, which also created the need for a new graphic identity. Based on all the documentation we received, we were asked to develop a graphic identity that would serve as a sort of ‘toolbox’ for the in-house design department to work with. In addition to the overall graphic identity, we were also asked to create dozens of templates, for all kinds of items (the so-called ‘deliverables’) – all these templates were presented and discussed during dozens of presentations that took place in New York, and during many conference calls and Skype meetings. We were also asked to think about the sign system, the website, etc.
Finally, we compiled all these templates in a 220-page graphic identity manual.
And that basically sums it up.
6.
What was your process in creating the logo (sketching by hand, etc.)?
A lot of reading, a lot of researching, a lot of writing, a lot of sketching. And indeed, we actually sketch a lot by hand – for us, designing always is a very physical process, involving a lot of manual labour. We’re always busy making scale models, folding and tearing paper, cutting up sketches, filling up notebooks with small drawings. But we have to say – even working behind the computer feels very ‘manual’ to us. Endlessly kerning and spacing type on the computer feels a lot like sculpting – it definitely has a physical dimension.
7.
In your own words, describe the logo’s concept/meaning and how it embodies the Whitney’s goals?
We regard the graphic identity basically as a set of instructions, or notations. The designer in charge of executing these instructions (the ‘performer’, so to speak) first has to define a certain space, in which she then has to draw a series of four connected lines, in such a way that the result resembles a zigzag (or the letter W, depending on the way you choose to look at it).
In many ways, it can be compared with the rules of a instruction-based artwork, or musical notation, or a theatre script – the rules seem quite strict, but are at the same time quite open to interpretation. In other words, the shape won’t be determined in an algorithmic way, but is fully dependent on a human interpretation – the decisions made by the individual designer.
The result of these instructions will be this zigzag, which we personally see as a pretty ‘open’ sign, one that can be filled with all kinds of meanings: the letter W, the movement of the Whitney through Manhattan, an architectural ziggurat, etc. But more important is the fact that the flexibility of the shape is symbolic as well, representing the fact that the Whitney is always changing, and adapting itself to the dynamic conditions of art.
As for the second part of your question (how does the graphic identity embodies the Whitney’s goals?) – as we already indicated (in our answer to question 5), it’s not so simple to briefly describe the ‘goals’ of the Whitney. But in general, we would say that it is indeed the flexibility of the sign that embodies a lot of the Whitney’s ambitions (the notion of an institute that’s never fixed, that’s fully responsive, etc.).
8–9.
What do you think makes the logo unique and distinct from anything out there?
What do you love about the logo?
For the viewer/reader of the graphic identity, we guess that the uniqueness/distinctiveness of the graphic identity will be fact that is always changing. The impression will be that of an ongoing movement – a shape that changes constantly, throughout different media, and throughout time. It’s a visual narrative that takes place on a lot of different platforms at the same time. Like a graphic stop-motion animation movie that evolves from poster to poster, and from invitation to invitation.
But what we personally love about the graphic identity is the whole ‘performative’ character of it. There has been a lot of talk lately about ‘dynamic branding’, ‘responsive identities’, etc. – but the truth is, we never set out to make a graphic identity to fall within this particular ‘genre’. For us personally, the interesting thing about the graphic identity is not that it is flexible in itself, but that it allows the designer to be flexible.
As we already wrote, the instructions behind the graphic identity might seem quite strict, but are actually quite open to interpretation. The shape of the zigzag won’t be determined in an algorithmic way, but is fully dependent on human interpretation – the decisions made by the individual designer. We love the fact that the designer will be able to really put some of her own creativity in it.
10.
What’s your studio design philosophy and how (if any) is it reflected in the logo?
Our personal design philosophy has a lot to do with emphasizing the physical dimensions of the designed object. We always try to make the viewer/reader aware that they are part of a constructed environment – an environment that’s made by humans, and thus can also be changed by humans. It’s a very idealistic, almost utopian idea.
This philosophy is fully encapsulated in our methodology, in a very organic way – whenever we work on a project, we naturally gyrate towards this notion of underlining material dimensions. In the graphic identity of the Whitney, this approach could be located in the fact that the ‘Responsive W’ functions almost as a measuring device, emphasizing the physical proportions of the designed object.
11.
From concept to completion, how long did the process take to create?
Two years.
In fact, the Whitney first contacted us on March 25th, 2011. And the actual launch of the graphic identity took place on May 21st, 2013.
12.
There’s been online controversy from the design field criticizing, among other things, 1) the identity is not hefty enough to stand out and 2) the ambiguity that it could represent anything – how do you respond to both?
We don’t know if we would refer to it as ‘controversy’ – Hilary Greenbaum, head of the in-house design team of the Whitney, recently talked about a “delightfully polarized” response, and maybe that’s a better way to describe it.
If there indeed have been reactions that the graphic identity is “not hefty enough to stand out”, then we think these reactions can immediately be ‘crossed out’ against the reactions that the graphic identity is “too hefty, too overpowering”. In other words, one person’s “not hefty enough” is another person’s “too hefty”.
In fact, we do believe we created a graphic identity that can deliver a full range of shades of ‘heftiness’. We were specifically asked to design a graphic identity which could be “turned up” and “turned down”, almost like controlling the volume of sound. And we do think we succeeded in doing that. The graphic identity can be used in a subtle way, alongside an reproduction of an artwork, but can also be used in a more dominant way, when used on its own.
As for the criticism that the zigzag is an ambiguous sign, that could represent anything – we think the people saying such things are referring to our personal account of the design process, which we posted on our own website. In that essay, we describe a particular moment in the beginning of the design process, when we realized the zigzag was pretty much an ‘open’ sign, on which we could project all kinds of different meanings relevant to the Whitney: the letter W, a pulse, a ziggurat, etc.
Within the early development of the graphic identity, this realization certainly played an important role for us personally, and that’s why we wrote it down (perhaps somewhat naively). But it was never our intent to suggest that this range of meanings should be considered as the defintive ‘guide’ to the zigzag. When it comes to the resulting graphic identity, we think it’s clear that the meaning of the zigzag is not so much encapsulated in its shape, but in its movement. The real ‘symbolism’ of the graphic identity can be found in the flexibility of the shape, which represents the fact that the Whitney is always changing, adapting itself to the dynamic conditions of art, etc.
Having said that, we do find it surprising that there are apparently people who find it problematic for a sign to have several meanings. Is it not logical for a sign to change meaning, according to the context? For example, on a poster, we assume most people will see the zigzag as the letter W. However, when used as exterior signage, we can imagine that the zigzag will echo the ziggurat-like architecture of the new building. When used as a series of zigzags next to each other (as recently happened on some of the scaffolding surrounding the future building), the zigzag indeed resembles a pulse. Et cetera, et cetera.
In other words, we find it completely natural for a sign to be able to take on different meanings in different contexts.
Interview +81 Magazine (Japan), June 30, 2013
1.
It’s been 15 years since Experimental Jetset established. What is the overall production concept and approach that the studio takes on?
Our personal design approach has a lot to do with emphasizing the physical dimensions of the designed object. We always try to make the viewer/reader aware that they are part of a constructed environment – an environment that’s made by humans, and thus can also be changed by humans. It’s a very idealistic, almost utopian idea.
We actually see our approach as closely linked to Marxist and modernist ideologies. Marx and Engels wrote that “if humans are shaped by their environment, then this environment has to be made human”, and this quote really informs our practice. What we try to do in our work is to explore this whole process of shaping the material environment that is shaping us.
The graphic identity of the Whitney is a very good example of this approach. We designed the ‘Responsive W’ as a sort of ‘measuring device’, a graphic agent emphasizing the physical proportions of the designed object. It’s a subtle way to make the viewer/reader aware of the material dimension of graphic design.
2.
Are there any projects or works that made a turning point for you?
In general, we try to look at our collected output as one complete, ongoing body of work, and not think too much in terms of ‘highlights’. But if we had to quickly mention a couple of projects that were very significant to us, this list would probably include Black Metal Machine (1998), Anarchitecture (1999), Elysian Fields (2000), Kelly 1:1 (2002), We Are The World (2003), the graphic identity for Stedelijk Museum CS (2004), and the graphic identity for Le Cent Quatre (2007). But if you would ask us tomorrow, we would probably come up with a very different list.
Two recent projects that really pushed our boundaries have been the exhibition Two or Three Things I Know About Provo, and the graphic identity of the Whitney Museum. These two projects have been very important to us, in the sense that they both required us to function to our full abilities. Writing, researching, designing for printed matter and signage, even working with sound and moving image – in both projects, we did all that. We worked on both projects during the same period (the years of 2011 and 2012), and in retrospect, they have a lot in common. Sure, at first sight, they seem worlds apart – developing the graphic identity for the Whitney was a very strict process, involving dozens of meetings and presentations, while curating Two or Three Things I Know About Provo was a much more improvised, low-budget affair. And while Two or Three Things dealt with a subject that was very close to our heart, our role at the Whitney project was basically that of relative outsiders But despite these differences, both projects did require the same level of energy, the same kind of intensity, and the same amount of engagement.
3.
What kind of role does each members of the design team take on? Please describe each member’s style, field of specialty, and role in the team respectively.
We do everything with the three of us. Always.
As we already mentioned in previous interviews – we aren’t really proper football fans, but as a model for the studio, we always have to think about an interview we once saw on Dutch TV, in which legendary player Johan Cruijff explained the concept of ‘Totaal Voetbal’ (‘Total Football’, or ‘Total Soccer’), and that was really inspirational. Total Football is a system where a player who moves out of his position can be replaced by any other player from the same team. So the roles aren’t fixed; any player has the ability to be attacker, defender or midfielder. We thought this was quite an interesting model – it’s a very modular, egalitarian approach. A collective way of working.
In other words, our ideal is to stay away from fixed roles. When dealing with stress and deadlines, we sometimes fall back into certain roles, but we try very hard to avoid that. In general, we do everything with the three of us, in equal parts.
4.
From a designing perspective, how do you place textual elements? Also, what kind of perceptive effect do you intend to draw?
Other than some people might expect, our work is not really grid-driven. Don’t get us wrong, we like the general idea of grids, but our own way of working is much more inspired by language than by grids. We usually start by looking at a given piece of text, trying to find certain patterns, certain rhythms in that text. We look at the longest word, we look at the shortest word, see how they compare, etc. We somehow try to come up with a composition that’s really specific for that particular piece of text.
Our way of working is quite inspired by the notions of concrete poetry and found poetry; we really try to shape the text into a specific object, into a ‘word-thing’. The Brazilian writer Augusto de Campos once defined concrete poetry as “the tension of thing-words in space-time”… In our own way, we see our typographical approach as something quite similar. And this notion, of the ‘word-thing’, also describes the perceptive effect that we are trying to create, throughout our work. The effect should be ‘thing-like’, material, physical, anti-illusionary.
5.
Other than sending a meaningful message through words, what do you think typography is able to express?
Typography is a constant reminder of the notion of the human-made environment. Humans are shaped by language, and in return, humans feel the need to shape language themselves. Language lives inside us, so it’s only logical that we feel the need to externalize this mechanism, and let ourselves live inside language. We surround ourselves with typography as a way to find shelter within language, within culture. The idea of communicating a single message is only a small part of the function of typography – a much bigger part is the role typography plays in reminding us that we are part of a living, material culture.
Martin Heidegger once wrote about the links between the words ‘building’, ‘thinking’ and ‘dwelling’ – and we think that, within the notion of typography, these links become really clear. Typography is shaped language – a construction in which the activities of building, dwelling and thinking become inseparable.
6.
How did you come to take the role to create the identity for Whitney Museum of American Art? Upon being asked to create identity, what kind of demand was there? Please tell us thoroughly the brief and guidelines to this project, and what the reason was for its identity renewal. Also, could you describe the identity’s concept/meaning in your own words?
With a project that is so huge, it’s hard to give a brief run-down of the initial parameters and demands. The briefing was very precise, but also very extensive – we basically received an enormous cardboard box, containing dozens of documents and files, samples of all the previous graphic identities, detailed research reports and questionnaires, books on the history of the Whitney Museum, etc. Also, during the many meetings that we had at the Whitney, the demands were constantly refined. So it’s impossible to simply describe the briefing in a few short sentences.
If we had to put it in a very basic way – the upcoming relocation of the Whitney automatically implied that the institute felt the need to rethink their position within the cultural landscape, which also created the need for a new graphic identity. Based on all the documentation we received, we were asked to develop a graphic identity that would serve as a sort of ‘toolbox’ for the in-house design department to work with. In addition to the overall graphic identity, we were also asked to create dozens of templates, for all kinds of items – all these templates were presented and discussed during dozens of presentations that took place in New York, and during many conference calls and Skype meetings. We were also asked to think about the sign system, the website, etc. Finally, we compiled all these templates in a 220-page graphic identity manual.
We regard the graphic identity we developed for the Whitney Museum basically as a set of instructions, or notations. The designer in charge of executing these instructions (the ‘performer’, so to speak) first has to define a certain space, in which she then has to draw a series of four connected lines, in such a way that the result resembles a zigzag (or the letter W, depending on the way you choose to look at it).
In many ways, it can be compared with the rules of a instruction-based artwork, or musical notation, or a theatre script – the rules seem quite strict, but are at the same time quite open to interpretation. In other words, the shape won’t be determined in an algorithmic way, but is fully dependent on a human interpretation – the decisions made by the individual designer.
The result of these instructions will be this zigzag, which we personally see as a pretty ‘open’ sign, one that can be filled with all kinds of meanings: the letter W, the movement of the Whitney through Manhattan, an architectural ziggurat, etc. But more important is the flexibility of the shape, representing the fact that the Whitney is always changing, and adapting itself to the dynamic conditions of art.
What we personally like about the graphic identity is the whole ‘performative’ character of it. There has been a lot of talk lately about ‘dynamic branding’, ‘responsive identities’, etc. – but the truth is, we never set out to make a graphic identity to fall within this particular ‘genre’. For us personally, the interesting thing about the graphic identity is not that it is flexible in itself, but that it allows the designer to be flexible.
7.
Have you ever in the past created original or custom typefaces? If so, in what circumstances did you have to do this?
We have certainly created our own typefaces in the past. To name just a few examples: in 2007, we designed a custom typeface for Coming Soon, a design store for which we developed the graphic identity. In 2010, we created a typeface that we used on a sheet of stamps (so-called ‘Kinderpostzegels’ or ‘Children’s Stamps’) that we designed for the Dutch Post Group (PostNL). In fact, as far back as 2000, we had some of our own fonts on our website, downloadable for free (we particularly remember one font that was called ‘Purple’).
So in cases where the concept (or the circumstances) really asked for it, we have certainly designed our own typefaces. But in general, we prefer using already-existing typefaces. We like the paradoxicality of that whole gesture: creating something new out of old elements.
8.
What is your favorite font that you often use? Please tell us why.
We realize people usually associate us with Helvetica – but it’s actualy not true at all that we “always use Helvetica” (as the myth goes). In fact, some of our best-known designs (for example the graphic identity of Stedelijk Museum CS, or the graphic identity of Le Cent Quatre) were made without Helvetica. Still, it’s hard to deny that Helvetica is a typeface we feel emotionally very attached to.
Point is, the late-modernist graphic landscape in which we grew up (we’re talking here about the Netherlands in the ’70s) had a big influence on us. As a consequence, we feel as if this late-modernist, social-democratic vocabulary (of which Helvetica is undeniably a part) has become our authentic language, our mother tongue. It’s our everyday way of talking, our natural tone of voice. And it’s only logical that this late-modernist dialect can be detected all throughout our work. We’re simply not the kind of people who feel it’s necessary to suppress one’s own dialect.
9.
The design in the Netherlands can be described as playful and functional. What do you believe is the design style that represents the Netherlands?
We don’t really believe that there is an actual single overarching ‘design style’ in the Netherlands, in the sense of a general visual language.
But we do believe that, traditionally, the Dutch are very aware of the role of design. This awareness goes back a long way into history, and is often linked to the fact that the Netherlands, as a country, is almost completely made by humans. Through a system of dykes and polders, the Dutch managed to shape their country, to create it out of the sea. And this notion, that everything around us is essentially constructed by humans, has created a very typical mindset, one that still resonates – not only in design and art, but also in politics and economics.
So we do think there exists a certain ‘hyper-awareness’ of the built environment, and it seems obvious that this ‘hyper-awareness’ also manifests itself in the tradition of graphic design. But we don’t think it manifests itself as a certain visual style, as a single graphic language. Rather, we think it manifests itself as a certain mentality – a strange, paradoxical mix of pragmatism and idealism.
10.
What do you think is perceived as importance of colour to designing typography?
We really appreciate the work of great ‘colorists’, people who make good use of colour. But when it comes to our own work, we sort of subscribe to that classic motto of Piet Zwart: “colour should be a creative element, not a trimming”. In other words, we see colour as an element that has a very specific meaning – we only want to use it when the concept really asks for it. And when there are no urgent circumstances demanding colour, we might as well leave it black and white.
Contribution to the book ‘Dynamic Identities’, June 28, 2013
With a project that is so huge, it’s hard to give a brief run-down of the initial parameters and demands. The briefing was very precise, but also very extensive – we basically received an enormous cardboard box, containing dozens of documents and files, samples of all the previous graphic identities, detailed research reports and questionnaires, books on the history of the Whitney Museum, etc. Also, during the many meetings that we had at the Whitney, the demands were constantly refined. So it’s impossible to simply describe the briefing in a few short sentences.
If we had to put it in a very basic way – the upcoming relocation of the Whitney automatically implied that the institute felt the need to rethink their position within the cultural landscape, which also created the need for a new graphic identity. Based on all the documentation we received, we were asked to develop a graphic identity that would serve as a sort of ‘toolbox’ for the in-house design department to work with. In addition to the overall graphic identity, we were also asked to create dozens of templates, for all kinds of items – all these templates were presented and discussed during dozens of presentations that took place in New York, and during many conference calls and Skype meetings. We were also asked to think about the sign system, the website, etc. Finally, we compiled all these templates in a 220-page graphic identity manual.
We regard the graphic identity basically as a set of instructions, or notations. The designer in charge of executing these instructions (the ‘performer’, so to speak) first has to define a certain space, in which she then has to draw a series of four connected lines, in such a way that the result resembles a zigzag (or the letter W, depending on the way you choose to look at it).
In many ways, it can be compared with the rules of a instruction-based artwork, or musical notation, or a theatre script – the rules seem quite strict, but are at the same time quite open to interpretation. In other words, the shape won’t be determined in an algorithmic way, but is fully dependent on a human interpretation – the decisions made by the individual designer.
The result of these instructions will be this zigzag, which we personally see as a pretty ‘open’ sign, one that can be filled with all kinds of meanings: the letter W, the movement of the Whitney through Manhattan, an architectural ziggurat, etc. But more important is the flexibility of the shape, representing the fact that the Whitney is always changing, and adapting itself to the dynamic conditions of art.
What we personally love about the graphic identity is the whole ‘performative’ character of it. There has been a lot of talk lately about ‘dynamic branding’, ‘responsive identities’, etc. – but the truth is, we never set out to make a graphic identity to fall within this particular ‘genre’. For us personally, the interesting thing about the graphic identity is not that it is flexible in itself, but that it allows the designer to be flexible.
Interview Design Magazine (South Korea), July 8, 2013
1.
What do you think why Whitney choose you for renewal project. To tell the truth, there are a lot of famous design studio in US, and especially Pentagram which made the previous identity.
You are right – there are many excellent graphic design studios, both within and outside of the US, and we are absolutely certain that they would have done a very good job as well. But we can’t really tell you why the Whitney decided to choose us. The only thing that we know is that apparently, their choice was unanimous – in other words, we had the vote of all the staff members who were involved in selecting the right graphic design studio for the project.
If we understood well, a dozen studios (both US and non-US) were interviewed. After these interviews, the selection process continued with a shortlist of four studios (of which we were the only studio without an office in the US). And out of this shortlist, we were eventually chosen to develop the new graphic identity of the Whitney.
What we thought was quite interesting about the whole selection process was the large role that the in-house graphic design department played in it. When we visited the Whitney for the first interview, we noticed that the design department prepared extensive files on a large number of design studios. They really did their research, and were for a large part responsible for the selection of the invited studios.
So we weren’t forced upon the design department, but chosen by the design department itself – which is obviously quite a compliment. It’s like being a composer who is invited by the musicians of an orchestra to write a piece for them. It creates a special bond.
2.
I love the concept of “Responsive W” I read the description as a novel indeed. You said that it can be rooted in many meaning and features. But I believe there are some essential concepts. What is it?
It is true that, in the personal essay that we placed on our website, we describe a particular moment in the beginning of the design process, when we realized the zigzag was pretty much an ‘open’ sign, on which we could project all kinds of different meanings relevant to the Whitney: the letter W, a pulse, a ziggurat, etc.
Within the early development of the graphic identity, this realization certainly played an important role for us personally, and that’s why we wrote it down. But it was never our intention to suggest that this range of meanings should be considered as the defintive ‘guide’ to the zigzag. We don’t want to force people to see a pulse, or the letter W, or a ziggurat, in the zigzag. All these things (the ziggurat, the wave, the pulse, etc.) were just our own associations – nothing more, nothing less.
In the resulting graphic identity, we think that the real meaning of the zigzag is not so much encapsulated in its shape, but in its movement. The real ‘symbolism’ of the graphic identity can be found in the flexibility of the shape, which represents the fact that the Whitney is always changing, adapting itself to the dynamic conditions of art. That’s the main concept behind the graphic identity.
3.
I’d like to know about the moment of most interesting and happiest during the Whitney project. And as you guess, most terrible and difficult thing in the project, I’d like to hear. Please?
One of the most interesting moments was a particular meeting that we had at the Whitney office, during Hurricane Sandy. The whole Whitney office was officially closed down, but we still went there, to have a meeting with Adam Weinberg, the director. When we arrived in the building, Adam was there on his own, like a captain guarding his ship. While a very serious storm took place, Adam still took the time to have that meeting with us. It might be an insignificant anecdote, but still, we think it captures some of the feeling of engagement and passion that we experienced within the Whitney.
As for the most difficult moment… we would say that there was one particular meeting that we found especially scary. In a very corporate setting, we had to present the graphic identity to a group of almost 40 trustees of the Whitney. We knew that this would be a very important presentation, and the future of the graphic identity would depend on it. And we also knew that we aren’t very good in presentations – we are usually too nervous.
So we were sitting in the boardroom, doing the presentation, feeling like Huey, Dewey and Louie (the nephews of Donald Duck), sweating it, and forgetting most of our words. After the presentation, it remained silent for a couple of seconds, until one of the trustees told us that we “nailed it”. That’s when the applause came. Needless to say, we were incredibly relieved after that.
4.
Good design really need good client. What do you think Whitney museum as a client?
We really enjoyed working with the Whitney. The museum is run by a small team of very passionate, engaged people. We had really intense and interesting discussions during the meetings at the Whitney – about graphic design, about art history, about theoretical matters. We always received a lot of feedback, a lot of ‘food for thought’. Above all, they gave us a lot trust. We fully realized the Whitney took a huge risk, by choosing a small, European graphic design studio – so we felt really responsible, and gave the project all the attention, time and energy that we had.
5.
Usually logo design seems like the result of presentation, play of words. But in this case, concept and process you said sound so logical, even perfect. So I feel unrealistic sometimes. Do you believe your Whitney project is PERFECT?
We think no design project is perfect in itself. The whole process of design is very pragmatic, very much grounded in reality – so in any given design project, errors, mistakes and defeats are bound to happen. And the Whitney is no exception – we made proposals that were rejected, we certainly made mistakes, there were probably errors. But that’s inevitable; it belongs to the process of design. There’s always a bit of tragedy involved. But without that, it wouldn’t be very interesting, wouldn’t it?
6.
I saw the interview in DesignBoom. You said Whitney is one of the most satisfying projects. But designers are always hungry. Is Whitney really satisfying project? Could you tell me why? Or is there something to make up or to miss in your mind?
In that DesignBoom interview, we indeed stated that we consider the Whitney as one of our most satisfying projects to date, as it provided us with a huge ‘playground’ in which we could exercise many skills – researching, sketching, writing, and working on different forms of design (printed matter, signage, pictograms, moving images, etc). So in that sense, it was a very complete project, something we could really sink our teeth into – and we find that situation very satisfying indeed.
As for the second part of your question – whether there is “something to make up, or to miss”… we aren’t exactly sure what you mean. Do you mean if we still feel there was something missing in the Whitney project?
If that was indeed your question – well, we can’t think of anything that was missing in the Whitney project. We worked on very detailed items (typography, pictograms, etc.), and on very large-scale elements (sketches for the exterior signs, etc), and everything inbetween. So we feel we covered the full spectrum: from the very small to the very large. We couldn’t think of anything else, at least not right now.
7.
I am emphasized that you got an inspiration from someone’s saying, not visual intuition. It seems like ‘thinking designer’. Why do you do? Did this aspect effect the project deeply?
We assume you are referring to the starting point of the design process, which was indeed this quote by Donna De Salvo, head curator of the Whitney: “It would be much easier to present the history of art as a simplistic line – but that’s not the Whitney”. This was indeed one of the early inspirations behind the graphic identity.
In fact, this is how we usually work. Whenever we get an assignment, we always start by a close reading of the material provided to us, trying to find phrases, sentences or words that can somehow be translated in a graphic way. In the case of Donna’s sentence (“It would be much easier to present the history of art as a simplistic line, but that’s not the Whitney”) – we immediately realized that this sentence already contained, within itself, the whole graphic identity. It was already in there; we just needed to extract it.
8.
Whitney logo is quite trendy cause of flexible identity: current big wave of identity design. If Whitney offer you new logo in decades, what would you do design? Let’s get imagine.
When we were developing the graphic identity of the Whitney, we weren’t really thinking about this whole genre of ‘responsive identities’, or ‘dynamic branding’, or whatever the name is. To us, this ‘ever-changing zigzag’ was just the most logical approach to respond to the given context. We weren’t trying to come up with a ‘trendy’ design or something like that.
The way we see it, the Whitney graphic identity is basically a set of instructions, or notations. The designer in charge of executing these instructions (the ‘performer’, so to speak) first has to define a certain space, in which she then has to draw a series of four connected lines, in such a way that the result resembles a zigzag (or the letter W, depending on the way you choose to look at it).
In many ways, it can be compared with the rules of a instruction-based artwork, or musical score, or a theatre script – the rules seem quite strict, but are at the same time quite open to interpretation. In other words, the shape won’t be determined in an algorithmic way, but is fully dependent on a human interpretation – the decisions made by the individual designer.
So what we personally love about the graphic identity is the whole ‘performative’ character of it. There has been a lot of talk lately about ‘dynamic branding’, ‘responsive identities’, etc. – but as we already said, we never set out to make a graphic identity to fall within this particular ‘genre’. For us personally, the interesting thing about the graphic identity is not that it is flexible in itself, but that it allows the designer to be flexible. We think that’s a big difference with a lot of the other responsive graphic identities out there.
As for the second part of your question – if we understand you well, you are asking us (hypothetically) if we can imagine how we would design the graphic identity if we were asked to do this a couple of decades into the future.
It’s an almost impossible question. If we would be asked to design the Whitney graphic identity again, in the future, we guess that there will be very specific reasons for this re-design. Another building, another director, another set of circumstances – who knows? Obviously, these new circumstances would completely alter the situation, and the context – which would probably also lead to a completely new graphic identity. In general, even the smallest changes in a context might result in a radically different graphic identity.
On the other hand – we think that the elements we used in the current graphic identity are pretty classic, almost archetypical. A line, an image of an artwork, a very basic typeface – these elements could have been used 50 years ago, and we think they can still be used 50 years into the future. So there’s also a part of us that says that the graphic identity, as we just designed it, could still be used in 2050. We know, it sounds silly – but we think there’s an element of truth in it. As long as people live, the gesture of drawing a line will refer to the act of making art. It’s a very timeless gesture.
9.
I think that one of the most important thing of this project is you didn’t design everything, but “Frame”. It recalls something like Art director, Architecture, or star artists who do just a blue print and idea, not real working. It seems essentially the concept between working(hand) and planning(idea) what do you think about?
Obviously, we dislike these comparisons – we have nothing in common with ‘star architects’, or ‘star artists’, or ‘star art directors’. We think the best analogy is still the idea of a composer, being asked by the musicians to write a score. We really see our role as having written a composition, a musical arrangement, to be interpreted by others. But we think we have written a very open composition – one that allows the musicians a lot of freedom to improvise.
Also, you have to remember that we were asked by the Whitney design department to develop a graphic identity for them. In other words, we were working for them, not the other way around!
Having said that, we have to agree that it’s a very atypical situation for us not to be responsible for the actual designed items. Usually, our way of working is quite ‘hands-on’ – we like to do everything ourselves, and we are usually very focused on the finished, material objects. So indeed, it feels very strange that, for the Whitney, we won’t be responsible for the finished end-products.
On the other hand, we don’t think that our role can be simply described as a sort of immaterial ’planning’. We made a lot of items for the Whitney, during the last two years – sketches, paper models, templates, presentations, dummies, maquettes, etc. Although a lot of these items will stay invisible, we have certainly made them, by hand. So we would certainly describe our role in the Whitney as workers.
10.
Typeface NHG. I am so curious the reason why you chose. Eventually I feel you wanted to emphasis the combination of ‘old world’ and ‘new world’. All architects are European. And original font from Europe renewed by NYC designer. But I have some question. Can it be representative thing of Whitney’s identity? Actually two architect is immigrant, and star designer who don’t care his nationality.
We do think it’s a bit unfair to dismiss Breuer and Piano respectively as an “immigrant” and a “star architect”. We certainly think that they both have very European design sensibilities. Breuer’s language was very much shaped by Bauhaus, a typical European movement; and Piano’s career is dominated by European projects. So we see those two architects as quintessentially European.
But that’s not even so important. In the personal essay on our website, we just mentioned these architects as two examples of the role of European art within the history of the Whitney. But we could have mentioned lots of other examples. In the end, it comes down to this:
The Whitney Museum came into existence during a very interesting time in art history – the period in which Europe stopped being the center of modern art, and New York became the capitol of it (books like ‘How New York Stole the Idea of Modern Art’, by Serge Guilbaut, reflect on this period).
So this was a time when, in New York, there existed a certain dialectical tension between American art, and European art – in fact, at that time, the Whitney was founded specifically as an ‘pro-American’ reaction to the ‘pro-European’ policies of the Metropolitan Museum and the Museum of Modern Art. So personally, we would say that the Whitney is very much a product of the historical tensions between European and American art. And that’s why we find it so interesting that Christian Schwartz’ version of NHG is basically an European typeface, reinterpreted by an American designer. In his typeface, we tried to locate the same sort of tension between Europe and New York.
But as we already explained in our personal essay (and in that DesignBoom interview), there were indeed many other reasons why we chose NHG as the new Whitney typeface. That whole European/American story was just a very particular interest of us personally – obviously, because in this assignment, we were indeed the Europeans, working within an American context. So this was more a personal fascination. But as we already wrote, there were many other reasons why we chose NHG. We hope that’s clear!
Interview Details Magazine, July 28, 2013
1.
I’m especially interested in this story you tell about visiting during Hurricane Sandy. Can you elaborate a little bit more on that? Such as: At what point in the process were you at that time? What was the purpose of that meeting in particular? What did you discuss and did you meet at the Breuer building or the new space or where was it? What was the specific day of the week? Was the electricity off as well or was it just closed? And he was totally alone? Did he have a flashlight too? It’s a pretty fascinating anecdote, any additional details you have would be great.
Okay, since you’re so curious about this – here’s a complete break-down of the story, as we remember it:
The event in question took place on Monday, October 29th, 2012, at the Whitney Offices (situated on 290 Park Avenue South, 14th floor). The meeting took place in the afternoon, while the electricity broke down later that night; so there was no need for a flashlight yet. However, it was already quite stormy that afternoon, airports and subway stations were closed down, bridges and schools were closed as well, and there were official warnings not to go outside – so Sandy was definitely already in the air. When we walked to the Whitney Offices, most stores we cames across were closed, many windows boarded-up.
Indeed, Adam was at the office completely on his own (as we already wrote, not unlike a captain guarding his ship – the scene made quite an impression on us). At that time, the Whitney graphic identity was already finalized, more or less – the main reason for the meeting was to discuss an important trustee event that was scheduled to take place later that week (during which we had to do a presentation of the graphic identity). However, because of the power cut that took place later that night, that trustee event never took place – but we obviously didn’t know that yet during the meeting.
Anyway, we were discussing with Adam the presentation that we had to give later that week – that was the main topic of the meeting. We also remember standing in front of the window, together with Adam, being surprised of all the stuff we saw flying through the air outside – branches, leaves, etc.
And as we understood, an hour (or so) after we left, Adam was asked to leave the office as well, as some security people were about the switch off the elevators, in preparation for the storm.
The rest of the week was pretty bizarre. We were staying in a Manhattan apartment that was within the area of the black-out, so indeed, we had no electricity, no light, no TV, no warm water, no heating, no wi-fi, no cell phone reception. Every morning, we walked uptown, in search for sockets to charge our computers and phones, and wi-fi connections to check our e-mail. (It was quite a bizarre sight, this daily stream of people walking uptown, in search for electricity – almost like electro-zombies). And during the night, we walked back downtown, into a sort of black hole (most taxis didn’t want to drive you downtown, as they didn’t want to drive in the dark – so we did everything by foot. Then again, that’s pretty much our favourite mode of transportation anyway, so we didn’t really care).
Of course, most of the meetings that were planned during that week were cancelled (as the Whitney Offices were situated in the black-out area as well). There were some meetings in Brooklyn, at people’s houses – since the subway was closed down, we walked the bridges to get to those meetings. All in all, it was a pretty interesting week – in that year (2012), we were in New York a lot of times, but that particular week really stands out in our memory.
Having said that, we know that the hurricane made many real victims, both in the US and outside of it – so we do realize that our experiences and anecdotes are pretty futile compared to those real tragedies.
2.
I’m interested in the idea of you guys creating a graphic system — a platform, as it were, on which the in-house team can operate. I’m not sure if our readers know the different between that and creating a logo. How common is it for graphic designers in general to create these systems for institutions?
In general, we would say that the whole notion of the graphic identity as a system (or program) rather than a single logo is pretty common, especially among larger companies and institutes.
In those cases, there is always some distance between the way that program is described (in a graphic manual, for example), and the way it is executed (by the in-house designers), in the same way that there is always some sort of distance between a written composition, and the way this composition is performed by musicians. We think it is exactly in this distance (between the written composition, and its interpretation) where the creative freedom of the performer can be found. And we’d like to argue that, even when the performer opts to interpret the composition in the strictest way possible, this is still a creative choice, and (as such) still an expressive gesture (as you see, we are here already anticipating some of the questions you are asking us later in this interview)...
We think what makes the graphic identity of the Whitney somewhat different from previous graphic identity systems is exactly the fact that it turns that whole relationship (between the ‘script’ and the ‘performer’) into one of its main themes. It makes explicit the dynamic between the written description and its interpretation; or at least, it hints at that dynamic.
Looking at the designed items, it is quite possible for the viewer/reader to deduct the instructions on which the system is based. Usually, these internal mechanics are well-hidden, behind the facade, but in this graphic identity, the rules are pretty much laid bare – or so we like to believe.
3.
How common is it for you guys to create them?
Not common at all. As we already wrote in earlier interviews, as designers we are pretty much ‘hands-on’, always trying to be involved in every stage of the execution of a design. There have been a couple of instances where, after we quit working for an institute, we handed over our templates to other designers, so that they could work with these templates – but this happened only a couple of times, and really were exceptional cases.
So the Whitney project really was a first for us. It was the first time we created a system specifically for others to work with.
Now that we think of it, there might have been an earlier instance of a ‘script’ that we wrote and that was used afterwards by other people. (However, we originally created this particular piece without such intentions). We are talking about the ‘John & Paul & Ringo & George’ t-shirt that we designed in 2001. In a way, you might argue that this shirt became a sort of template (or format) for others to work with (although we certainly never anticipated the many variations that shirt has spawned over the years).
In that sense, you might say there is a strange similarity between the &&&-format, and the ‘Responsive W’. Both are graphic systems, for others to work with.
4.
And in terms of your own personal histories, on the one hand, you’re influenced by punk, which is often associated with no rules, freedom, do what you want, fuck the man. I realize that’s a narrow interpretation but even so, your work is also very rigorous, and in this job, you’re creating a system of rules for other people to adhere to. How do you navigate that inherent tension?
We have to say, our reading of punk is pretty much the opposite – we think it’s more interesting to see punk almost as a return to rules. If you regard punk as a sort of reaction against prog rock, it becomes clear what we mean.
Prog rock was pretty much the embodiment of a certain notion of freedom – exploring free-form structures in music, breaking away from the classic four-piece line-up (singer, drummer, bassist, guitarist), exploring exotic influences (classical and symphonic music, ‘world music’, etc.), employing unusual (and sometimes even self-built) instruments, etc. So, from the viewpoint of the prog rock musician, the arrival of punk rock must have looked like a pretty conservative return to form, to tradition, and to rules. After all, the musical structure of punk was based on traditional rock & roll (verse, chorus, bridge, etc.), the typical punk band consisted of the classic four-piece line-up (singer, drummer, bassist, guitarist), and the compositions returned to two/three-minute-short, 7-inch-based songs (instead of the album-sized space jams of prog rock). And instead of the inventive, custom-made synthesizers of prog rock, punk bands preferred cheap, default instruments – mail-order electric guitars, basic drum kits, etc. – in short, the traditional rock & roll set-up. In that sense, you can certainly regard punk as a sort of return to the unwritten rules of rock & roll.
So in our interpretation of punk, its freedom should not be seen as a rejection of rules, but as a self-chosen submission to rules. The freedom to impose, or even inflict, rules onto yourself.
A good example is still the Ramones – stripping down the music so drastically that all that remains is the structure of a song, laying bare nothing but the rules. It’s pure minimalism. And yet, with just a few simple chords, they managed to conjure up a whole sonic landscape, creating a very archetypical rock & roll sound. We’re also thinking about Suicide here. Just a minimal, wobbly synthesizer-line, accompanied by abstract rockabilly hiccup vocals – and still, these songs sound like complete rock & roll symphonies. It’s like making something out of nothing. And in our view, in order to create something out of nothing, there has to be a sense of structure, of form, of regulation. In other words, rules.
To return to the subject of the graphic identity we created for the Whitney:
All these instructions and suggestions, defining the playfield – if they can be described as rules, they are certainly self-imposed rules. It’s not that we violently forced our own rules upon the Whitney – not at all. The Whitney commissioned us to come up with a set of instructions and suggestions, for them to work with – and their deliberate choice, to work with these instructions and suggestions, is (in our view) a choice that only emphasizes the freedom of the Whitney (rather than that it contradicts that freedom).
5.
And how do you synthesize your subversive philosophical leanings (in the U.S., anyway) with your ideas about right and wrong ways to perform design, which could be read as very conservative?
We honestly never think in those moral categories – ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ design. If you read all the texts on our website (and there’s a lot of long-winding text on our site, much to the chagrin of the critics), you’ll find that we never dictate how other people should design. We never tell people to use typeface A (and not typeface B), we never tell people whether or not to stretch type, etc. etc. (Keen observers will also notice that, in all those online texts, we’ve never attacked any other designer).
We really dislike this whole aspect of the design industry – the ‘thought police’, all those designers (and critics) trying to dicate to other designers what to do, how to think, how to apply theory, etc. It’s such a poisonous, bitter and rancorous scene – we try to stay away from that ‘goon squad’ mentality as far as possible.
All we try to do on our website is to explain our own way of designing – and we’re not exaggerating if we say that we start almost every other sentence with the words “in our view”, or “in our opinion”. We always want to make absolutely clear that all our choices are completely relative, subjective and personal.
In the context of the graphic identity of the Whitney – it is true that this graphic identity is basically a set of instructions. But we never suggest that not following those instructions is somehow morally ‘wrong’.
We basically see it like this – we created a game, and that game is defined by a set of rules. The moment the player decides not to follow the rules anymore, she/he simply stopped playing the game. So there’s no right or wrong WITHIN the game – there’s only the choice to participate in the game, or not to participate in it.
Hope that makes sense.
As for suggesting that the notion of rules is somehow connected to the idea of conservatism – again, we have to admit that we see that in a completely opposite way. To us, the notion of rules has much more to do with progressive ideas.
If we would imagine a scale, going from ‘conservative’ to ‘progressive’ (and from ‘right-wing’ to ‘left-wing’), we would say that a progressive movement would be the shift away from ‘natural order’ (the ‘laws of the jungle’, the idea that ‘might makes right’, god-given commandments, etc.) and towards ‘human regulation’ (rules that are made by people, and thus can also be changed by people).
We feel that all the values that we see as progressive (equality, distribution of wealth, etc.) can only be achieved through some form of human regulation. So in that sense, the idea of rules certainly doesn’t sound conservative to us.
6.
Or does the “sense of freedom within a system, no matter how strict it is,” as you say, only apply to design?
We have to admit that we have a somewhat existential streak in our thinking. And as you know, the existentialists believed that you are always free, even in the most limited (and limiting) circumstances. There is always a freedom of choice, and limitations only make you more aware of that. In fact, Sartre went as far as saying that “we were never more free than during the German occupation”. Now, we can’t follow Sartre in that sentiment – luckily, we have never had to suffer through an occupation, and we’re very grateful for that. But on an intuitive level, we think we understand what he means. Freedom doesn’t just mean the absence of limitations; there exists a much more complicated relation between freedom and limitation. They certainly aren’t mutually exclusive.
7.
Lastly, do you have any projects coming up in the fall or next year that you can speak about?
We are currently working on the graphic identity for De Oude Kerk (‘The Old Church’). It’s Amsterdam’s oldest building, situated in the middle of the city center. Starting in 2014, the church will function as an exhibition space, focusing mainly on site-specific, contemporary art. The transformation of the church will be a really exciting project, and we are very happy to be involved in it.
Also, the neighbourhood in which the church is located means a lot to us. As you might know, we are very interested in Provo and related movements, and in the late ’60s and early ’70s, the area around the church has been the site of many post-Provo activities (most notably Aktiekomitee Nieuwmarkt). In fact, Marieke’s parents (both founding members of the Provo group) have been living right across the church for a while, in the attic of the Salvation Army (right before Marieke was born). So we certainly feel connected to that area.
After working so intensively on the Whitney assignment, it feels good to do a project in Amsterdam, contributing to our own surroundings. Shaping the environment that has shaped us – there’s nothing more interesting than that.
However, the moment we have a chance to do something in NYC again, we will be on that plane immediately. We always feel right at home in New Amsterdam. Even without electricity, without light, and without warm water.
Interview DesignWorks/Collective, August 6, 2013
1.
I am curious to know how you determine who works on which briefs in your studio? Is it always as a collaboration between the three of you, or is it whoever is least busy does the next job, or is it based on one another’s personal strengths. For example the Whitney Museum design process lasted well over a year, were all three of you working on it simultaneously ?
In general, all three of us are working on all assignments simultaneously. We wouldn’t know how to work in any other way – in order to function as graphic designers, we need to be with the three of us. As individuals, we are completely dysfunctional.
There’s a funny (well, sort of funny) anecdote attached to that. In 2000, we were working on the catalogue for ‘Elysian Fields’, an exhibition at the Centre Pompidou. For this exhibition, we also designed the sign system (or, as they say in French, the ‘signalitique’ – a word we still use since that particular exhibition). Part of this sign system had to be designed ‘on the spot’, while the artworks were being installed – so we were working on the signalitique at the offices of the Centre Pompidou.
However, on one particular Sunday, we wanted to finish something that had to be at the printer’s on Monday morning, while the offices at the Centre Pompidou were closed on Sundays. So Elein Fleiss, one of the curators of the exhibition, kindly offered that we could work at her house. However, she only had one computer – so we had to take shifts at her computer, working in turns. We were basically standing around the chair, while one of us was seated behind the computer, working on a document. Then, after 20 minutes (or so), another one of us would take over, and continued working on that same document. Twenty minutes after that, the third one would have a go at the document, etc. etc. So each of us would take 20 minutes shifts behind the computer, throughout the whole day, in a continuous cycle, refining the document more and more, until we felt it was ready. It was actually quite a good system, and we joked to Elein that we should always work like this, sticking to one computer.
Years later, we met a Japanese girl, who asked us whether it was true that we only had one computer; apparently, Elein once told her the anecdote about us working in turns behind one computer, and the girl assumed we always worked like that. We told her this wasn’t exactly the case – but in retrospect, we should have kept the myth intact. In a way, it is actually very close to the way we work – working on one project with the three of us, taking turns at it and refining it, until all three of us feel it’s ready.
We know, it’s not much of an anecdote. But still, we thought it was funny to share.
2.
Graphic designers talk about engaging the target audience to effectively communicate the client’s message. You mentioned in 2005 that your “way of designing is actually quite closed and hermetic: you never think in terms of target audiences”, that you “just concentrate on the aesthetical/conceptual integrity of the design itself.” Can you elaborate on this and do you find this way of thinking allows you to produce solutions that are more honest, believable?
We have to admit, there’s always something slightly embarrassing about being confronted with texts we wrote in the past. We do think that they date quite fast. Not that we change our opinions so lightly – as a matter of fact, our opinions are quite stable, or so we like to believe. But the way in which we try to formulate these opinions changes quite often. We constantly need improved, better words to formulate our views – it’s almost as if all these words are in orbit, circling around something that remains impossible to fully articulate, at least for us. Words fail us, really.
So although our underlying views have remained pretty much the same throughout the years, our words are always changing, to the point where they sometimes even seem to contradict each other. That’s why it’s usually quite painful to re-read old texts in general – we seldom agree with what we wrote. Or better said, we seldom agree with the wording we used.
But having said that, we do think we still agree with the sentiments we tried to express in 2005. We still really dislike the notion of the ‘target audience’, or the ‘audience’ in general. It’s not out of some arrogance or disrespect towards the individual reader or viewer – in fact, it is exactly because we respect the individual viewer so much that we try to avoid generalizations such as ‘the target audience’, ‘the general reader’, ‘the average visitor’, ‘the typical viewer’, etc. We really dislike this whole notion of the audience as some sort of platonic entity, something that exists in a sort of strange separate sphere.
The way we see it – we are part of society, and in the same way, society is part of us. We are products of the society in which we were brought up, we are shaped by a larger community, our thinking is influenced by the language we speak, etc. Society really is a part of us all; it defines who we are. So we feel it would be bizarre to first have to ‘externalize’ this society, by defining it as an ‘target audience’, only in order to then have to try to artificially approach it from the outside, as if it’s something that exists ‘out there’. It seems like such an indirect way of working.
That’s why we feel the only way to stay honest to the individual reader, to the individual viewer, is to stay honest towards yourself. If you want to contribute something to society (an idea, a concept, an aesthetic approach, a viewpoint, a new way of looking at things, however minor), then we truly believe that the only way to reach other people is through yourself. We know, it probably sounds horribly ‘new age’ (“the only way out is in”), but we can’t deny this is the way we think.
An example that’s very close to us would be the ‘John & Paul & Ringo & George’ shirt that we designed back in 2001. If we would have asked a group of people beforehand whether they would be interested in a shirt featuring basically a list of four names, they would have certainly said no. We made that shirt purely because we wanted to explore something that we personally found interesting – it was born out of our own fascinations, our own interests, our own influences. But despite of that (or, as we like to believe, precisely because of that), the shirt really resonated with a large group of people, who started to use this shirt as a ‘format’, a template to create their own shirts with, a platform on which to express their own interests – the biggest compliment you can get as a designer, really.
3.
Looking at case studies of your work, your ideas come from an intellectual approach in your design process. How much does intuition play a part in this process?
You know, we actually don’t see ourselves as proper intellectuals at all – in fact, our way of applying theory to our practice can be described as quite intuitive. We are theory savages, really: piecing together all these half-forgotten philosophies, deconstructed truisms and pop-marxist references into a messy patchwork of ideas and ideals. We don’t really study theory, in a rigid, academic fashion – we truly live it, by applying it directly to our work.
Obviously, this is something that really infuriates some people, and since the beginning of our ‘career’ (if you can call it that) we have been under attack by critics (and designers trying to be critics) who believe theory should be applied in a more academic, more ‘rigorous’ way. But really, we hate that word, ‘rigorous’ – it’s just too close to ‘rigor mortis’.
That whole ‘goon squad’ mentality, of critics trying to dictate graphic designers what to think, what to read, how to read, how to work, how to apply theory – we try to stay away from it as far as possible. Call us crazy, but we always feel there’s a certain element of class pedantry at play – a ‘thought police’ of pseudo-aristocrats, trying to ‘educate’ those rude, uncivilized sons and daughters of the printing industry, in a sort of My Fair Lady fashion. “The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain”.
To us, all these notions – theory, philosophy, history – are things that exist within graphic design as living, vital attributes. They are engrained in the actual practice of graphic design itself. We know, there are plenty of critics out there, trying to make designers feel inferior, trying to prevent designers from making creative (and intuitive) use of theory, trying to force designers to think in a more ‘rigorous’ way – but really, to speak with Raoul Vaneigem, “such people have a corpse in their mouth”. They are supporters of a dead and rigid notion of theory.
4.
The Netherlands is a country with a rich history in graphic design, with avant-garde designers such as Paul Schuitema, Piet Zwart, Wim Crouwel, Karel Martens— you could say it’s in your DNA, how does this sense of history influence your work?
Well, personally we wouldn’t say it’s in our DNA – the whole concept of genetic determinism creeps us out. We’re more into the notion that people are mainly shaped by their material environment – and obviously, modernist graphic design has had a huge influence on the material surroundings that have shaped us. In previous interviews, we have often mentioned the fact that the cultural landscape in which we spent our early childhood years (the 1970s) was for a large part created by designers such as Wim Crouwel, and studios like Total Design. The school books, the stamps, the phone books, etc. – everything around us was designed in this typical social-democratic, late-modernist language. So it’s no wonder that we now see that graphic language as our native language, as our authentic mother tongue. It’s a language we feel entitled to.
In the answer that we gave to your previous question, we boasted (somewhat recklessly) that we “don’t study theory; we live it”. The same goes for the graphic language of designers like Crouwel and his contemporaries. We have never studied this language in a religious way – we have never scrutinized manuals about grids, typefaces, graphic systems and the like. We have absorbed this language in a very organic way, during our childhood years – and it’s now dwelling in our minds, not unlike half-remembered memories. It comes to us almost like dreams – but that’s the way we like it, really.
But it’s not just something from the past – this whole modernist graphic language is still very much part of the now, of the present. This morning, we walked from our homes to the studio (walking being our preferred way of transportation), and during this 45-minute stroll, we already came across three signs (‘Auping’, ‘Randstad Uitzendbureau’, ‘Rijnja Repro’) that were either designed by Wim Crouwel, or by Total Design. We walked past at least two stores selling Bruynzeel kitchens (the company Piet Zwart used to work for). We passed by the Stedelijk Museum, the museum of which Willem Sandberg used to be the director, and for which Crouwel later designed some of his most iconic posters (and that is currently featuring the beautiful graphic identity by Mevis & Van Deursen).
But we also crossed the Spui square, site of many Provo-related happenings in the ’60s (as you might know, the Provo movement has been a huge influence on us as well). Furthermore, we walked past many buildings that once have been squatted – spaces like Paradiso, De Melkweg, W139 (all venues we happened to have worked for, at one time or another).
In other words, just during our daily walk to the studio, we already came across dozens of signs and spaces related to subjects that interest us: modernist movements, counter-cultural groups, etc. In that sense, the city really is an archive – a living archive. It’s the cultural, material environment that has formed us, and that continues to form us. And our main motivation to keep on designing is really to contribute to this environment, in our own way – to shape the surroundings that have shaped us.
5.
You are involved with self initiated projects including publishing books, curating exhibitions as well as speaking at various conferences and exhibiting your work around the world, all requiring enormous planning and energy, how do you find the balance between these self initiated / collaborative projects and client work? How important are the self initiated projects to EJ?
This may sound absurd, but we really regard all our projects as ‘self-initiated’, whether these projects involve clients or not. The way we see it – the moment we consciously make a choice to involve ourselves in a project (for example, by saying ‘yes’ to an assignment), we are in fact initiating it. That makes everything that we do ‘self-initiated’.
We see none of our work as ‘free’, in the sense that we really don’t believe that there is such a thing as a project that’s completely free of restrictions, free of limitations, free of specifications. There is always a given context to respond to, a series of parameters to work with, a set of circumstances to react to. This set of circumstances might include a client or not – but in the bigger picture, that’s not even that important, in the sense that it doesn’t make the project less or more ‘free’.
So while we see none of our projects as ‘free’, we do see our own role within these assignments as ‘free’; in the sense that, even within the most limited circumstances, we always have a certain freedom of choice. In fact, we know that we always have a freedom to quit the assignment (which is one of the most reassuring securities that you have, as a designer). Sure, quitting an assignment automatically means a loss of income – but ultimately, we do have that choice (however hard that choice might be).
In that sense, we have to admit that there is a somewhat existential streak in our thinking. As you might know, the existentialists believed that you are always free, even in the most limited (and limiting) circumstances. After all, there is always an internal freedom of choice, and external limitations only make you more aware of that. (In fact, Sartre went as far as saying that “we were never more free than during the German occupation”. Now, we can’t follow Sartre in that sentiment – luckily, we have never had to suffer through an occupation, and we’re very grateful for that. But on an intuitive level, we think we understand what he means. Freedom doesn’t just mean the absence of limitations; there exists a much more complicated relation between freedom and limitation. They certainly aren’t mutually exclusive).
6.
Finally, are their any plans to travel to Australia in the future?
Unfortunately, there aren’t any plans to travel to Australia in the future. And to our regret, we also have never been in Australia – although we have participated in a couple of exhibitions there. For example, in the beginning of 2005, we were part of a group exhibition in Melbourne, curated by Matt Hinkley. And in 2007, we had a solo show at The Narrows (in Melbourne as well). We just remembered that, in 2011, we were also included in a group show put together by Brad Haylock.
We actually think very highly of Warren Taylor (the director of The Narrows). It’s too bad that place is now gone. Warren had such a good curatorial vision, and he staged exhibitions of many of our favourite designers, from John Melin to Rogerio Duarte.
The process of installing our solo exhibition at The Narrows was quite a funny affair. We were seated behind our computers in Amsterdam, in the middle of the night (because of the time difference), while Warren was sending us snapshots of the hanging of the posters, in ‘real-time’, so to speak. So while we were making suggestions (“more to the left”, “more to the right”), Warren was keeping us updated by mailing us a stream of pictures. It was quite an entertaining night, actually.
We really like Australian artists such as John Nixon, Marco Fusinato, Matt Hinkley, etc. They all seem to explore (each in their own way, obviously) notions of minimalism, monochromaticity, and geometric abstract/concrete painting – all subjects that we find very interesting. (And although he’s from New Zealand, we also see Julian Dashper as part of this generation). In fact, we had the good luck of working with Marco Fusinato on the 2010 edition of his project ‘This is Not My World’,
And obviously, there are some classic Australian bands that we’re really into: The Saints, Radio Birdman, The Birthday Party, Crime & The City Solution, etc. Other bands that come to mind are The Cosmic Psychos, Mass Appeal, The Lime Spiders, The Scientists, The Hoodoo Gurus, The Meanies and The Celibate Rifles. But the band that we really, really love are The Hard-Ons. During our teenage hardcore days, they were one of our favourite surfpunk bands. Such beautiful, blissed-out, fuzzed-up, sundazed music.
We always really liked The Hard-Ons’ album sleeves (most of them designed by Ray Ahn of The Hard-Ons, who worked under the ‘Dickcheese Comix’ moniker). In fact, while we were working on the exhibition in The Narrows, Warren Taylor gifted us a rare first-pressing of their debut album – such a great present.
Interview Slanted, October 14, 2013
1.
How would you describe your practice in the field of art and design?
We’re very comfortable describing our practice as ‘graphic design’, period. What we especially like about the notion of ‘graphic design’ is its historical and ideological weight, and the way in which it is grounded in a material base.
Moreover, the notion of ‘graphic design’ is quite an inclusive, broad concept – in our view, the term is almost elastic, and can be stretched to describe quite a wide array of activities. Sure, graphic design is an infrastructure that can seem quite restrictive from the outside (and even from the inside), but still, we believe it is a platform that can offer more space than one initially thinks.
There certainly have been periods in our practice, especially right after we graduated, during which we could have ‘crossed over’ from one infrastructure to another infrastructure – from the ‘design context’ to the ‘art context’, so to speak (not that these two contexts are mutually exclusive, and they certainly overlap – but you get the idea).
Right after we left the academy, we created quite a number of installations for art spaces: ‘Black Metal Machine’ (1998) for Bureau Amsterdam, ‘31 Flavours of Doom’ (1999) for De Gele Rijder in Arnhem, ‘Modular Meaning’ (1999) for Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam, ‘Kelly 1:1’ (2002) for Casco in Utrecht, etc. etc. During this early period, we could have easily chosen a very different path.
However, around the turn of the millennium, we made a (more or less) conscious decision to stay loyal to the infrastructure of graphic design, rather than trying to ‘cross over’ into the infrastructure of art. We felt a need to search for personal freedom within the practice of graphic design, rather than outside of it. Or, better said, we wanted to ‘internalize’, rather than ‘externalize’, our sense of freedom.
It was probably a very masochistic impulse – trying to expand the medium of graphic design from the inside, rather than making our great escape to the outside. It certainly isn’t an easy path we have chosen. But at least, we have chosen it ourselves – in that sense, our whole graphic design practice can be regarded as one total, self-initiated project. Or better said, a self-inflicted project.
2.
Contemporary visual identities in cultural contexts often follow a conceptual, experimental and/or self-reflexive approach. Why?
Does this field differ from other public fields like education, politics, socio-economics etc. in its audience?
We can’t really speak for other designers, or for the commissioners – and we also don’t really believe in the notion of ‘the audience’. All we can say is that this ‘self-reflective approach’ has been an integral part of our personal design practice from the very start – and we hope this approach comes through in all our work, not just in the projects we developed for museums.
To us, it is important that the designed object always refers to its own medium, or to its own material dimensions. We want to keep the viewer/reader constantly aware that he/she is looking at a human-made object – an object that is made by humans, and thus can also be changed by humans. So that would be the main way in which we consider our work as being ‘self-reflective’.
In our work, we really try to emphasize the notion that humans are shaped by their material environment, and in turn have to shape this environment themselves. To speak with Marx and Engels: “If humans are made by their surroundings, then these surroundings have to be made human”. That is more or less our guiding principle.
In the case of graphic design, this basically means that we want to ‘break’ the spell of the image, and continuously want to reveal the fact that a printed object is ‘just’ ink on paper – nothing more, but certainly nothing less.
The graphic identity we recently designed for the Whitney Museum is a good example of that. It basically consists of a zigzag-shaped line, occupying the available space within a given format. By doing so, the zigzag is effectively emphasizing the material proportions of the designed object. The zigzag breaks the spell of the image, emphasizing the ‘thingness’ of the design.
3.
The internet provides a permanent visibility of new and contemporary graphic design and online portfolios. It seems as if this might contribute to tendencies of self-exploitation and copying of design approaches and work.
We totally understand your point. We have to admit – we are basically a ‘pre-digital’ graphic design studio. We graduated in 1997, so our education took place in an environment without internet. Also, we really are part of a certain generation of students who didn’t possess their own computers during their school years. For most of us, a computer was simply too expensive (Apple computers were pretty high-priced in those early years). Each week, you could spend a couple of hours in the ’computer room’ of the academy – but other than that, most of us were working without a computer. It was only after graduation that most of us managed to get enough funds to actually buy a computer.
But moreover, we were completely ‘offline’ – there was no chance to access internet in the mid-’90s. So we had no idea what other students, in other academies, were working on. In retrospect, we were designing in a sort of (relative) vacuum.
This situation has certainly changed – and we believe, for the better. By being exposed to the work of young designers and students all over the world, we think that today’s students have much more knowledge than we had at that age. We think many young designers are producing brilliant work. There’s certainly a sort of accelerated evolution going on. So in general, our feeling is positive.
But we agree that there are also problematic sides. We don’t really share your concerns about copying – our main concern would be the general feeling that “everything has been done before”. The abundance of information about graphic design can lead to a certain apathy, a sort of paralysis. There is so much being designed today – why add anything to it? It are thoughts like these that can cause students to become fed-up with graphic design, even before they properly started designing. It breeds a certain kind of sarcasm, of cynicism, amongst these students. And that’s a real shame – as there will be time enough to get cynical and grow bitter later in your career.
4.
How is your handling of online visibility and publicity regarding your person(s) and your work?
From the very start, we have always tried to ‘demythologize’ our own practice – by being very open and brutally honest about our way of working and thinking. Our overall philopsphy, this idea of ‘breaking the spell of the image’, has probably something to do with the fact that we somehow always manage to ‘break’ our own image as well (for better or worse).
This basically means that we see our website not as a professional portfolio, but more like a personal archive, or almost as a diary. We try to describe, in our own tone of voice, our recollections of the projects, as we remember them – and in these subjective notes, we also include our influences, doubts, faults and failures. We are showing ourselves exactly as we are – which turned out to be quite a dangerous thing to do. After all, the design industry can be an incredibly hostile, hateful environment – so by exposing yourself in such a vulnerable manner, you are basically turning yourself into a target. And indeed, from the start of our ‘career’ (if you can call it a career), we have been attacked and ridiculed by critics (and designers acting as critics), in the most aggressive ways possible. But apparently, that’s the price we have to pay for being ourselves. For us, there’s no other way.
5.
What role does typography play in your work?
Well, as we already discussed in some of the previous answers – our whole way of designing has a lot to do with the notion of ‘breaking the spell of the image’. And to us, the use of typography is an effective way to break this spell. After all, a letter is first of all an object, an abstract (or better said, concrete) shape. It is clearly recognizable as ink printed on paper. It doesn’t carry the same representational, illusory power as, for example, a full-colour photograph does. And that’s exactly why we prefer typography.
And in those cases in which the situation really demands to use an image, we often embed the image in typography, in such a way that the illusory power of the image gets destabilized. That is basically what we also did with the graphic identity of the Whitney – we created a system in which the image, the reproduction of the artwork, is always embedded in a typographic environment. It’s all part of the notion of ‘breaking the spell’.
Interview D&AD, November 20, 2013
1.
The ‘Responsive W’ reacts to the available space, why was that important in this context?
In a way, the whole concept of the ‘Responsive W’ has a lot to do with the notion of institutional space. In our view, a museum is not a neutral, invisible space, but a very specific environment, one that has quite a complex relationship with the works of art that are contained within this environment. And when you think about it, objects such a posters, invitations and banners are institutional spaces as well – material environments that have a very specific, spatial relationship with the reproduced artworks that are printed on them. So we thought it would be interesting to somehow make this relationship visible, to make it material – or better said, to make it graphic.
The underlying principle is quite basic – it’s actually a game of proportions. A poster is a sheet of paper that comes in certain proportions, while the proportions of the reproduced artwork are usually given as well. So when you print this reproduction on a given piece of paper, there will always be a certain amount of remaining space. And this remaining space will always be different, as almost every artwork will have different proportions. So the ‘Responsive W’ is basically a zigzag-shaped line measuring (or mapping) the remaining space, and by doing so, making visible the institutional space.
So we think it’s a very honest and open gesture – instead of pretending the institutional environment to be neutral and invisible, the zigzag reveals the material dimensions of this space.
2.
Does it feel empowering to design a scheme to be used by others, rather than a specific set of executions? Do you enjoy seeing what people do with it?
We regard the graphic identity basically as a set of instructions, or notations. The designer in charge of executing these instructions (the ‘performer’, so to speak) first has to define a certain space, in which she then has to draw a series of four connected lines, in such a way that the result resembles a zigzag (or the letter W, depending on the way you choose to look at it).
In many ways, it can be compared to the rules of a instruction-based artwork, or musical notation, or a theatre script – the rules seem quite strict, but are at the same time quite open to interpretation. In other words, the shape won’t be determined in an algorithmic way, but is fully dependent on a human interpretation – the decisions made by the individual designer.
In that sense, we think the graphic identity is not so much about empowering us, but more about empowering the designers who are currently working with the graphic identity. We really developed this whole graphic system for them, so that it could serve as a sort of stage, or platform, for their creativity.
In fact, the moment we saw the items produced by the Whitney’s in-house design team (headed by the brilliant Hilary Greenbaum) was the moment we felt the whole graphic identity really came together.
You know, we have been working on this assignment from November 2011 to May 2013. We gave all we could in this project, and we designed hundreds of templates, manuals, models and examples; but all these items make up only half of the story. The other half of the story is the actual application, and we really think the Whitney designers excelled themselves. You can see they really put their heart in it, coming up with results we never even dreamed of. So yeah, we absolutely enjoy seeing what they are currently doing with it.
3.
You’ve described before how the Witney identity allows the user to bring their own interpretation to the design. Why is this important?
We like the idea of the ‘Responsive W’ as an ‘open sign’ – as a spatial structure that can catch several meanings. On our own website, we posted a sort of personal account of the development of the graphic identity, and in that text we mentioned a couple of possible meanings of the zigzag: the letter W, the movement of the Whitney Museum through Manhattan throughout the years, an architectural ziggurat, etc. (And another meaning can be found in the flexibility of the shape; a flexibility that symbolizes the fact that the Whitney is always changing, adapting itself to the dynamic conditions of art, etc.)
However, it’s not our intention to force other people to agree on these possible meanings – we really mentioned these meanings just as personal associations, nothing more, nothing less. Above all, the ‘Responsive W’ is a spatial gesture, a graphic construction. It has no inherent, fixed meaning – it is open to interpretation. An open sign.
It’s funny – in the same period that we were working on the graphic identity of the Whitney, we were also curating two exhibitions (taking place in 2011 and 2012, respectively) on the subject of Provo, an Amsterdam anarchist movement that existed between 1965 and 1967. As a sort of ‘logo’ for their movement, the Provos used a symbol that had the shape of an apple. This symbol was actually created a couple of years before Provo, around 1962, by pre-Provo pioneers Bart Hughes and Robert Jasper Grootveld, when they were looking for a sign to symbolize the concept of Amsterdam as “Magies Sentrum” (“Magikal Centre”).
By the time the Provo movement started to use the symbol, its meaning had narrowed down to the idea of the apple being a very concise map of the city of Amsterdam (the circle symbolizing the system of canals, the ‘stem’ referring to the Amstel river, and the dot marking the location of the Spui square where most of the happenings took place) – but in the beginning, when the sign was originally conceived, it was actually presented as a sign that could hold a wide variety of meanings: from a foetus to a brain to a skull, etc.
Here’s a chart of the sign, as created in 1962 by Bart Hughes and Robert Jasper Grootveld:
We were working on both projects (the graphic identity of the Whitney, and the project about Provo) pretty much at the same time, so the two signs (the ‘Responsive W’ and the ‘Provo apple’) became inextricably linked to each other – in our own minds, at least.
Both are ‘open signs’ – graphic structures, open to several interpretations. And both signs are rooted in particular cities – the ‘Provo apple’ is grounded in Amsterdam, while the ‘Responsive W’ is designed specifically for the context of New York (which is, after all, a sort of Amsterdam as well – New Amsterdam).
4.
Do you feel the Witney identity is a marriage of European and American cultures?
Needless to say, it’s impossible to define, homogenize or essentialize both ‘European culture’ and ’American culture’ – there exist obviously a lot of different cultures within Europe, in the same way that there are several different Americas.
Having said that, it’s inevitable that we could only approach the Whitney project from a (more-or-less) European viewpoint. After all, it’s impossible for us to suppress our own background, our native tongue – and why should we? Why should anyone, for that matter? So in that sense, we have no problem describing the graphic identity as a marriage of two cultures (or, as we would rather put it, as a synthesis of two languages).
However, one should also keep in mind that the Whitney Museum, as an institute, is in itself a synthesis of European and American cultures – or at least, when seen from a historical perspective. The Whitney Museum came into existence during a very interesting time in art history – the period in which Paris stopped being the center of modern art, and New York became the capitol of it (a really interesting book in this regard is ‘How New York Stole the Idea of Modern Art’, by Serge Guilbaut).
So this was a time when, especially in New York, there existed a certain dialectical tension between American art and European art – in fact, at that time, the Whitney was founded specifically as an ‘pro-American’, emancipatory reaction to the ‘pro-European’ policies of the Metropolitan Museum and the Museum of Modern Art. And even though the Whitney specifically defined itself as a museum for American artists, there have always been these hidden European undercurrents in its history – think for example of the fact that the Whitney building on Madison Avenue was designed by an European architect (Hungarian-born Marcel Breuer).
In fact, that was one of the (many) reasons why we decided to choose, as a typeface for this project, for a version of an European typeface (Neue Haas Grotesk), as redrawn by an American type-designer (Christian Schwartz). In short, we tried to detect, in this redrawn typeface, the same sort of tension between American and European cultures as can be found in the history of the Whitney Museum. An European typeface, with hidden American undercurrents – that was more or less what we had in mind when we chose the typeface. We don’t know whether we actually managed to convey this idea – but in the end, it doesn’t really matter. It turned out to be very good typeface for the Whitney either way.
5.
Yours is a very philosophical approach to design. How do you ensure that this is always a consideration during the design process?
You know, it’s actually more the other way around – it is our graphic design practice that has informed (and keeps informing) our ‘philosophical’ approach. We actually don’t have a proper theoretical or academic background – it really is through our daily practice that we keep coming across all these more theoretical concepts (and then we piece them together, in a rather ‘savage’ way, we have to admit).
For example, in 2007 we were working on the graphic identity of Le Cent Quatre (104), a French cultural institute that was situated in a large, roofed street – basically a ‘passage’, or ‘gallery’. Doing research for this project, we automatically came across Walter Benjamin’s ‘Arcades Project’ – which immediately had a huge impact on our way of working and thinking, and keeps on inspiring us ever since.
A similar thing happened when we were working on the graphic identity of the Whitney. Thinking about instructions and notations, we remembered an essay by the Welsh New Left scholar Raymond Williams, in which he basically describes art as a form of notation. And this idea (of art-as-notation) then immediately became part of the design process, amplifying ideas we already had, but were (until then) unable to articulate.
So we wouldn’t say that theory is something we try to impose on our practice from the outside. It really is the other way around – while designing, we discover all these theoretical principles that are already buried within the practice of the graphic design itself, almost like treasures. Or at least, that’s how we experience it.
6.
And finally, is there an example of some creative work you’ve seen in the past year that made you think “I Wish I’d Done That’?
Without doubt, the new graphic identity of the Stedelijk Museum, designed by Mevis & Van Deursen. It’s a visual language that seems very light and casual, but comes fully loaded (at least to us) with all kinds of interesting associations (Mallarmé, Apollinaire, Concrete Poetry, etc.). When we first saw it, it literally took our breath away.
In a recent interview, Armand Mevis (of Mevis & Van Deursen) actually mentioned that one of their inspirations (for the Stedelijk Museum project) was the graphic identity that we designed in 2004 for SMCS (Stedelijk Museum CS, which was, at that time, the temporary location of the Stedelijk Museum). So that was quite flattering to hear.
Interview Katie Dominy Design Museum, February 13, 2014
1.
Congrats on making the Design Museum shortlist – we would like to include you in our article today. Could you please tell me a little about how you came to be invited to create the Whitney Museum identity?
In the spring of 2011, we received an e-mail from Rebecca Gimenez, then head of the graphic design department of the Whitney, inviting us for an interview. If we understood well, a dozen (or so) studios (both US and non-US) were interviewed. After these interviews, the selection process continued with a shortlist of four studios (of which we were the only non-US studio). In the fall of 2011, we received the phone call that we were the studio chosen to develop the new graphic identity of the Whitney – a message that completely caught us by surprise.
What we thought was quite interesting about the whole selection process was the large role that the in-house graphic design department played in it. When we visited the Whitney for the first interview, we noticed that the design department prepared extensive files on a large number of design studios. They really did their research, and were for a large part responsible for the selection of the invited studios.
So we weren’t forced upon the design department, but chosen by the design department itself – which is obviously quite a good situation.
2.
Also – which part of the identity is your favourite?
You know, we have been working on this assignment from November 2011 to May 2013. We gave all we could in this project, and we designed hundreds of templates, manuals, models and examples; but all these items make up only half of the story. The other half of the story is the actual application, and we really think the Whitney designers (currently headed by Hilary Greenbaum) excelled themselves. You can see they really put their heart in it, coming up with beautiful results. That might be our favourite part of the process.
3.
Can you also tell me – what does it mean to you to be nominated for this award?
We actually avoid participating in award shows and competitions – we never send in work for such events. The way we figure it – life is already competitive enough, why turn graphic design into a competition as well? There’s no need for that, we think.
We remember vaguely we received a letter from the Design Museum (which we think is a wonderful institute, by the way), telling us something about an award show – and we gave them our usual reply – that we never participate in competitions, etc. (We gave the same reply to the Dutch Design Awards, and the D&AD, who also nominated us for the Whitney). So yeah, we declined the nomination. However, we did suggest to them that they could always extend/transfer their nomination to the Whitney in-house design team (instead of us) – after all, the fact that we are against competitions doesn’t have to affect the Whitney design team in a negative way.
We never heard back from the Design Museum after our e-mail, but we later learned that they indeed contacted the in-house design team – and that’s how the graphic identity ended up in the Design Museum Award Show, we guess.
Interview Eleanor Marechai D&AD, September 18, 2014
1.
What is the inner-meaning of using a ‘positive’ and ‘responsive W’ as the new symbol of the Whitney Museum of American Art?
Well, as we wrote before, in an earlier interview we did for D&AD – for us, the ‘Responsive W’ symbolizes the ever-shifting relationship between the institutional space and the artwork.
In our view, a museum is not a neutral, invisible space, but a very specific environment, one that has quite a complex relationship with the works of art that are contained within this environment. And when you think about it, objects such a posters, invitations and banners are institutional spaces as well – material environments that have a very specific, spatial relationship with the reproduced artworks that are printed on them.
So we thought it would be interesting to somehow make this relationship visible, to make it material – or better said, to make it graphic.
The underlying principle is quite basic – it’s a game of proportions. A poster is a sheet of paper that comes in certain proportions, while the proportions of the reproduced artwork are usually given as well. So when you print this reproduction on a given piece of paper, there will always be a certain amount of remaining space. And this remaining space will always be different, as almost every artwork will have different proportions.
So the ‘Responsive W’ is basically a zigzag-shaped line measuring (or mapping) the remaining space, and by doing so, making visible the institutional space.
We think it’s a very honest and open gesture – instead of pretending the institutional environment to be neutral and invisible, the zigzag reveals the material dimensions of this space.
Regarding the idea of the ‘Responsive W’ as a ‘positive sign’, as your question implies – it’s funny, we would never describe the W as a ‘positive sign’. As we already explained, we see the ‘Responsive W’ as a graphic device emphasizing the remaining space (and thus the negative space) of any given format. So in that sense, we’d rather describe the ‘Responsive W’ as a negative (or dialectical) mark.
2.
How did you think about using a few simple lines as a symbol for a museum of long history?
True, the lines themselves may look simple, but we like to think that the fact that these lines are constantly shifting (and responding to their surroundings) does lend the concept a much more complicated (and complicating) dimension.
Also, a zigzag is in itself already a fractured, broken line – so in that sense, we feel that the ‘Responsive W’ refers to the notion of a history that is not only long, but also fragmentary and complicated.
We really wanted to express the idea that history (and especially the history of art) is not a simple, straightforward story, but a much more complicated process, in which many conflicts and clashes occur.
3.
In different design drafts, we see there are different sizes and shapes of W’s. Would you please tell us their meanings?
As we already answered to the first question – the different sizes and shapes of the zigzag refer primarily to the ever-changing relationship between the museum and the artwork. This is the main concept behind the graphic identity as a whole.
But in addition to the idea of a sign that can take on several shapes, we also think that the sign is capable of holding several meanings. In other words, we see the ‘Responsive W’ as a (more or less) ‘open sign’ – a graphic device that can carry several meanings at the same time. Depending on the context, the sign can be seen as a capital W, a zigzag, a wave, a scribble, a route through the city, a diagram, etc.
In our view, by holding several meanings at the same time, the sign denies that it only has one meaning – and by doing so, the sign collapses back into its role as a purely graphic device, without any images attached. Or at least, that is how we envisioned it.
4.
In your mind, what kind of design is good design?
To us (personally), it is important that the designed object always refers to its own medium, or to its own material dimensions. We want to keep the viewer/reader constantly aware that he/she is looking at a human-made object – an object that is made by humans, and thus can also be changed by humans.
In our work, we really try to emphasize the notion that humans are shaped by their material environment, and in turn are able to shape this environment themselves. To speak with Marx and Engels: “If humans are made by their surroundings, then these surroundings have to be made human”. That quote is more or less our guiding principle.
In the case of graphic design, this basically means that we want to ‘break’ the spell of the image, and continuously want to reveal the fact that a printed object is ‘just’ ink on paper – nothing more, but certainly nothing less.
The graphic identity we designed for the Whitney Museum is a good example of that. After all, it consists of a zigzag that is effectively emphasizing the material proportions of the designed object. In other words, the zigzag breaks the spell of the image, emphasizing the ‘thingness’ of the design.
5.
What is the significance for you to win the ‘Yellow Pencil’?
To be absolutely honest – we never participate in competitions and awards. The way we figure it: life is already competitive enough – why turn graphic design into a competition as well?
So when the D&AD contacted us a while ago, we very politely rejected the nomination they so kindly offered to us. However, when we later talked about it with the Whitney in-house design team, they told us that they’d actually really appreciate these kinds of nominations, as it gives them some more political ‘fire power’ within the internal dynamics of the museum.
So we discussed it with D&AD, and we decided together that our nomination would be transferred/extended to the Whitney in-house design team. So, factually speaking, the in-house designers of the Whitney won the Yellow Pencil, not us!
6.
Some final notes?
The official story behind the project (the ‘rationale’, so to speak) can be found on the website of the Whitney:
http://whitney.org/NewIdentity
...while a more personal and long-winding essay (the ‘irrationale’, why not) can be read on our own website:
www.experimentaljetset.nl/archive/whitney-museum-identity
A short movie we created in 2013 to introduce the new graphic identity can be seen here:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VxgZexNsg5M
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Experimental Jetset
Interviews answered between May 2013 – September 2014
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