Wednesday, 8 September 2010
Saturday, 4 September 2010
What goes around around around…
It's funny how your own work and creative concepts, in one way or another, come back to you. Earlier this year I wrote about a piece of work I'd seen that was very similar in concept to something I'd produced several years previously, read it here.
Then last week, when staying in our favourite B&B in Brighton, Claire noticed a postcard by the entrance amongst flyers for local events and tourist attractions.
It struck Claire immediately that it was reminiscent of a piece I'd done, something I won an award for in 2002 for People Tree ethical clothing company.
And while there is an obvious visual similarity, beyond an image of Earth being superimposed onto fruit, the concepts are miles apart. But never the less, as a creative, you can't help thinking, "Oi, that's my idea."
The question of who owns an idea surfaced again yesterday when I was chatting to a photographer colleague of mine and we were discussing Simon Roberts' book We English. He bought to my attention an interesting blog article called 'When Does Similar Become Too Similar' that discusses the similarity of some of Roberts' images to that of other renowned photographers. It is worth reading for anyone interested in the subject of plagiarism.
But we live in an increasingly image saturated world where we are bombarded with content from a wide variety of media on a daily basis. We flit from webpage to webpage, subconsciously soaking up what we see. Flick through magazines in waiting rooms, barely registering, we may think, the content. Who's to say that the designers who created the Brighton and Hove Food & Drink Festival fruit hadn't seen my work and it sat lodged in their minds for years without their knowledge. It's not inconceivable that as they sat around sketching concepts on a layout pad that the idea to impose the Earth on a piece of fruit popped out of the air, as if from nowhere. Far fetched as this may be, if it is the case that's fine by me, I'm not precious. The work is dissimilar enough in its metaphorical remit and execution, and my piece did its job 8 years ago and is no longer relevant. And when you consider that the illustration in the top right of the postcard has overtones of Paul Rand about it, who am I to kick up a fuss.
And after all this hyperbole, I have to admit to an underlying tone of arrogance to this post. For who is to say that when I developed the concept for People Tree that exactly the same hadn't happened to me, that I was influenced by something I'd seen several years previously that became lodged in my subconscious waiting for the right moment to surface? There is probably a blog post out there somewhere by a designer or artist discussing exactly the same thing, but about how similar that bloody People Tree poster is to something they did back in the day.
Then last week, when staying in our favourite B&B in Brighton, Claire noticed a postcard by the entrance amongst flyers for local events and tourist attractions.
It struck Claire immediately that it was reminiscent of a piece I'd done, something I won an award for in 2002 for People Tree ethical clothing company.
And while there is an obvious visual similarity, beyond an image of Earth being superimposed onto fruit, the concepts are miles apart. But never the less, as a creative, you can't help thinking, "Oi, that's my idea."
The question of who owns an idea surfaced again yesterday when I was chatting to a photographer colleague of mine and we were discussing Simon Roberts' book We English. He bought to my attention an interesting blog article called 'When Does Similar Become Too Similar' that discusses the similarity of some of Roberts' images to that of other renowned photographers. It is worth reading for anyone interested in the subject of plagiarism.
But we live in an increasingly image saturated world where we are bombarded with content from a wide variety of media on a daily basis. We flit from webpage to webpage, subconsciously soaking up what we see. Flick through magazines in waiting rooms, barely registering, we may think, the content. Who's to say that the designers who created the Brighton and Hove Food & Drink Festival fruit hadn't seen my work and it sat lodged in their minds for years without their knowledge. It's not inconceivable that as they sat around sketching concepts on a layout pad that the idea to impose the Earth on a piece of fruit popped out of the air, as if from nowhere. Far fetched as this may be, if it is the case that's fine by me, I'm not precious. The work is dissimilar enough in its metaphorical remit and execution, and my piece did its job 8 years ago and is no longer relevant. And when you consider that the illustration in the top right of the postcard has overtones of Paul Rand about it, who am I to kick up a fuss.
And after all this hyperbole, I have to admit to an underlying tone of arrogance to this post. For who is to say that when I developed the concept for People Tree that exactly the same hadn't happened to me, that I was influenced by something I'd seen several years previously that became lodged in my subconscious waiting for the right moment to surface? There is probably a blog post out there somewhere by a designer or artist discussing exactly the same thing, but about how similar that bloody People Tree poster is to something they did back in the day.
Wednesday, 1 September 2010
Homage to Saul and Lee
A short while ago you may remember my tale of trying to recreate a photo from memory that went badly wrong. Well, here's the second attempt. It's in the right location this time, at the Longman of Wilmington, East Sussex. It even has some resemblance to the original. And this time it contains no knob jokes!
Steinberg by Lee Miller c.1954
Original post.
Steinberg by Lee Miller c.1954
Original post.
Tuesday, 31 August 2010
Monday, 23 August 2010
Saturday, 21 August 2010
Logo mash-ups
I'm enjoying JohnsonBanks' logo mash-ups very much.
Link:
Logo mash-ups on johnson banks thought for the week
Link:
Logo mash-ups on johnson banks thought for the week
Thursday, 19 August 2010
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
Drux Flux Test Dept remix
Caught this on SkyArts the other evening.
Drux Flux, 2008
It's got the lot; brooding crescendo laden music, industrial landscapes and constructivist references abound; it's dark and grubby and doesn't so much press my buttons as smash them over the head with a piece of lead pipe and a lump hammer. Got me coming over all sentimental about Test Dept.
It's got the lot; brooding crescendo laden music, industrial landscapes and constructivist references abound; it's dark and grubby and doesn't so much press my buttons as smash them over the head with a piece of lead pipe and a lump hammer. Got me coming over all sentimental about Test Dept.
Test Dept, sometime in the 1980s
Try watching them together. It works.
Try turning the sound off of Drux Flux while Test Dept plays. It works.
Try turning the sound off of Test Dept while Drux Flux plays. It works.
Now this is what I call a 1980s revival. I just wish I could find YouTube footage of what Test Dept did to Jools Holland's car on The Tube.
Wednesday, 11 August 2010
Where is my mind?
I was sure it was Kurt Schwitters or Man Ray, or another one of those Dada bods. I was also sure it was the Cerne Abbas Giant, the chalky guy who is always pleased to see you.
When Claire showed me the result, I pointed out her misinterpretation of my interpretation, and we both pissed ourselves laughing, much to the bemusement of the hikers walking past at that moment. I'm not sure who this photo says more about, my failure to accurately describe from memory, or Claire turning an artistic homage into a knob joke. We gave up at that point as the rain started to piss on our parade.
Attempts to Google the original failed before it even begun as the o2 reception was rubbish in Dorset, so I couldn't show Claire the original to clarify what I had in mind. So on returning home from holiday, between unloading the car and ordering a vegetable balti, I searched my bookshelves desperately trying to unearth the original photo. Several design history and avant garde graphics books later, on the verge of giving up my quest, I turned to the ever brilliant Art Of Looking Sideways thinking, 'this is exactly the sort of thing Alan Fletcher would have included in his vast ideas repository'.
And I found this on p290…
Saul Steinberg by Lee Miller c1954, from Alan Fletcher's The Art Of Looking Sideways
It was neither Kurt Schwitters nor Man Ray. Nor was it the Cerne Abbas Giant. It was the mighty Saul Steinberg 'drawing' the Long Man of Wilmington, in Sussex, several counties away from where we had been in Dorset.
All of which just goes to prove two things to me. 1) that I can't always rely on my memory, and 2) that, er, um, er… sorry, I'm not sure I can remember what the second thing is.
Links:
Saul Steinberg
The Art of Looking Sideways
The Cerne Abbas Giant, Dorset
So when holidaying in Dorset recently, and passing Mr Phallic on a nearly daily basis, I commented to Claire that I wanted to recreate a photograph in honour of Dada.
In my mind, Kurt Schwitters, or whoever, was standing near where the visitor car park is today, with the giant in the background about a mile away. In my mind Kurt was looking straight at the camera, pretending to hold the giant between thumb and forefinger playing with perspective and creating an optical illusion. I described this vision to Claire and we pulled into the visitor car park after a day out climbing hills on the Jurassic Coast. Ignoring the tourists staring at us, I proceeded to follow Claire's art direction and pose, thumb and forefinger held up at shoulder height in the middle of a car park. This is the result…
So when holidaying in Dorset recently, and passing Mr Phallic on a nearly daily basis, I commented to Claire that I wanted to recreate a photograph in honour of Dada.
In my mind, Kurt Schwitters, or whoever, was standing near where the visitor car park is today, with the giant in the background about a mile away. In my mind Kurt was looking straight at the camera, pretending to hold the giant between thumb and forefinger playing with perspective and creating an optical illusion. I described this vision to Claire and we pulled into the visitor car park after a day out climbing hills on the Jurassic Coast. Ignoring the tourists staring at us, I proceeded to follow Claire's art direction and pose, thumb and forefinger held up at shoulder height in the middle of a car park. This is the result…
When Claire showed me the result, I pointed out her misinterpretation of my interpretation, and we both pissed ourselves laughing, much to the bemusement of the hikers walking past at that moment. I'm not sure who this photo says more about, my failure to accurately describe from memory, or Claire turning an artistic homage into a knob joke. We gave up at that point as the rain started to piss on our parade.
Attempts to Google the original failed before it even begun as the o2 reception was rubbish in Dorset, so I couldn't show Claire the original to clarify what I had in mind. So on returning home from holiday, between unloading the car and ordering a vegetable balti, I searched my bookshelves desperately trying to unearth the original photo. Several design history and avant garde graphics books later, on the verge of giving up my quest, I turned to the ever brilliant Art Of Looking Sideways thinking, 'this is exactly the sort of thing Alan Fletcher would have included in his vast ideas repository'.
And I found this on p290…
Saul Steinberg by Lee Miller c1954, from Alan Fletcher's The Art Of Looking Sideways
It was neither Kurt Schwitters nor Man Ray. Nor was it the Cerne Abbas Giant. It was the mighty Saul Steinberg 'drawing' the Long Man of Wilmington, in Sussex, several counties away from where we had been in Dorset.
All of which just goes to prove two things to me. 1) that I can't always rely on my memory, and 2) that, er, um, er… sorry, I'm not sure I can remember what the second thing is.
Links:
Saul Steinberg
The Art of Looking Sideways
Tuesday, 10 August 2010
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