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Letter Spirit (PDF)
17 July 2012

Ghost Job 2
4 July 2012

Ghost Job
4 July 2012

This never happened, but it almost did— it’s a relic (above). Negotiation got as far as the business card. For me, Cartlidge Levene holds an interesting position within London design history. In terms of hagiography and genealogy (design as gossip) they have spawned a good number of significant practices and numerous designers have been through their doors. I took another path.

The Anti-Click
22 June 2012

This piece was originally published here. Big thanks Matt.

The Anti-Click

In 1996 Beryl McAlhone, David Stuart and Edward de Bono conducted what really should have been a forbidden experiment and birthed a monster. They brought forth the incomprehensively successful ‘A Smile in the Mind’ (ASitM from now) and in the process inadvertently established a cult. A sacred text was coupled to an adoring and largely uncritical audience and hey presto a self-replicating machine was set in motion.

At one level, this polemic is superfluous. Like many graphic design rants it’s a storm in a teacup. Yet equally, I am fascinated by the ASitM phenomena and genuinely do not understand why it is so venerated.

Now, from the off, I must admit to not owning a copy of ASitM and for most of my career, this book had never been ‘a problem’— it had always been viewed with a level of suspicion wherever I had worked and within these communities ASitM was neither valorised or circulated. It had already been discounted and was not part of the visual dialectic.

However, from time to time, I have strayed from the path – for instance, when I’ve been freelancing or teaching and found myself in alien territory, surrounded by adoring ASitM fans. That’s when one needs a coherent set of counter arguments— a way of explaining why I (and many others) find the book so difficult.

As Dunne and Raby have rightly observed, “design is ideological” and ASitM is not immune from this. It performs a certain service and operates as an ideological compass. It is quite obviously divisive— totemic, and as many have noted, it draws lines and defines tribal boundaries. It cleaves the design industry essentially in two, almost at the level of ownership. There are the ‘haves’ and the ‘have-nots’. Possession becomes a badge of honour, an instant set of design co-ordinates.

As you may have gathered, I don’t understand why this book is so highly regarded. Kicking off with an appropriately prosaic question: If this is graphic design’s seminal text, should it not be packed with the words and work of canonical designers, crammed with at least a century’s most significant discourse? Yet on inspection it is empty— quite literally vacuous, bereft of the core creators, thinkers and mavericks that make communication design so fascinating. On a personal level, bar one tiny Judy Blame thumbnail, not one of my hero’s is represented. There is a hagiography and ‘bloodline’ I just don’t recognize or aspire to. The continental modernist tradition has been erased and it is as if Marcel Duchamp never happened. 100 years of postproduction has gone too. The core 20th century visual ideologies of formal reduction and collage are supplanted by a singular and depressing conceptualization of ‘wit’.

The whole book is predicated on the notion of the pun, or so-called pleasure derived from establishing visual double entendres. Design becomes a crude delivery vehicle for ‘witty’ ideas and short-lived mental kicks. Which explains the militant disdain for ‘graphic ideas’ within certain circles (ie, 8VO’s “no ideas”). Ideas have become synonymous with ‘the wisecrack’; they resemble the closed loop logic of newspaper headlines and Christmas crackers. What Milton Glaser (probably the most erudite of the ‘smilers’) concedes as a ‘hermetic system’ — there is no room for complexity and no room for ambiguity. The constant attempt to foreclose and over determine meaning, far from rendering ‘the click’ pleasurable, in the end reduces communication to tedium and frustration. There is nowhere else to go and one can ever return, the formulaic ASitM ultimately proves lame and depressing, a one-trick pony—total consumption.

In many ways, much of the antagonism revolves around ‘ideas’ and what constitutes an idea within graphic design. How many times have you heard ‘smiliers’ bleat: ‘its all about the idea’?

Putting aside more nuanced theoretical arguments on what separates a concept from an idea, it is nevertheless possible to make a few basic observations:

ASitM subscribes to a limited and static reading of the term idea. It fails to acknowledge the complex circuits and networks that support and sustain ideas. It ignores the army of entities: chains, traces, materials, affects, actions and behaviours that bring forth worlds and significantly contribute to communication.

This human-centric, cerebral approach to ideas induces myopia that shuts down possibility. It remains unable to access the highly sophisticated toolkit now available to contemporary design, both in production and analysis. Under the ASitM regime, there is no possibility for ideas to be material - for instance, for ‘machine-folds’ or ‘double-hits’ to be incorporated into signifying projects, let alone for knowledge to be hardwired into objects. Equally, it will never understand that ideas subtend media, or that emotions and feelings could legitimately form the foundations of any project. And of course, we return to that knotty subject of ideology, the sovereign clusters of ideas that govern and dictate various methodologies and approaches. Unfortunately the book does not possess the reflective or critical facilities to engage with it’s own ideological baggage. The reductive wit and formulaic conceptualism forbid any of the aforementioned engagements. There is no space for generous, open, poetic, networked and embodied readings of the category of idea— and because of this the book is severely diminished.

So ASitM is strangely out of time - an anomaly or an aberrant blip with an extraordinarily and popular following. Its savant pursuit of the witty idea has lead to historical erasure and omission— core practitioners and movements have disappeared. Of course, this is not serious in itself, as it never sets out to document 20th century design. However, this becomes a problem when these absences are allied to other phenomena. For instance, when its very limited and prescriptive approach to visual idea generation becomes deployed within an unquestioning community of users. This is when the book becomes monstrous, when it is mindlessly read as a bible or manual, within a historical vacuum and with no counter practice or theory to temper it. This is when it becomes a banality engine.

Cancer
18 June 2012

We cannot sustain the illusion of our self-sufficiency. We are all subject to decay, old age and death, to disappointment, loss and disease. We are all engaged in a futile struggle to maintain ourselves in our own image. The crises in our lives inevitably reveal how impossible our attempts to control our destinies really are (9).

Cancer is vicious. Its reach is long. It stretches way beyond the limits of body — beyond the firewall of the skin. As a ‘destroyer of worlds’, it extends and irrevocably marks those close to you too. They become collateral damage.

I have cancer of the gall bladder with secondary tumours in the liver.

The shock of diagnosis has induced a slow motion collapse. Tumours and treatments have exiled me from my previous life. This is why it’s taken me five months to write this piece — post-traumatic stress. So much has gone. I have been broken and stripped bare. How does one make sense of fuzzy images, blood stats and a speculative prognosis? Its very hard to own (an as yet) unseen malignant force; especially one that silently reproduce deep inside. Super adaptive and autoimmune, renegade cells seek immortality. Inevitably, they will destroy the very system that sustains them.

As with buried psychic material, I have found the best policy is assimilation, become aware of and somehow make sense of these cells.

H is for 'heterotopia’. H is also for hospital — crude metaphysical airports that mediate our comings and goings. Porous spaces riddled with holes, entrances and exits.

Hospital took me apart physically and mentally. I was questioned, probed, sliced and diced. Eleven days of dissection where one is slowly reduced to bare life. You have a lot of time to think, especially at weekends where you are essentially warehoused. It was a painful unmasking, an opiate divestment; each day brought another procedure and another piece of the puzzle— a completely crushing archaeological process. Morphine sooths the pain but splits the mind. After one operation and a heavy session on the morphine typewriter I collapsed and had CPR. Totally paralysed, I could not move or breath. Falling in and out of consciousness I was occasionally aware of the nurse’s voices and a near imperceptible thread of air that moved slowly up and down my chest— I came to with the crash team about to administer electrodes. Shortly after this I was diagnosed and given 3 months to a year to live. Sovereign decay.

With your life shredded, you quickly realize what’s important. Cancer takes so much, it’s ruthless, however there are some things it can’t touch. It can’t take how you feel about someone; it can’t steal what has already been written; irrevocable bonds of love. Be it for a partner, child, parent or friend.

One of my primary decisions was not to get angry or resentful. It’s a difficult feat, especially when fatigued and in pain. But I have spent most of my adult life ill-expressing such emotions. Too much time in ‘grand hotel abyss’ has fed a quiet destructive fire. If cancer is a battle (and I’m not convinced that it is) then misplaced anger may be one of its greatest victories. For me, to rile and rage would be immediate failure — to lose.

Equally, in hospital there was a fair amount of regression and reverting to type. With very little to hold onto, at times I did flick through the bedside Gideon Bible (cold comfort)— just the simple mantra of ‘faith, hope and love’. To be honest, I’m still confused by faith and hope— but love was something I experienced and still do. Not a cerebral easily dismissed love, but a strange, dark, unknown love— an apophatic open, love. What Simone Weil terms ‘reality’. During CPR, the tiny breath of air in my chest cavity became indicative of this. Love as thread, torrent, line, ison, or drone, something that goes way beyond representation. However, it was tangible, particularly in the thoughts, prayers and deeds of those I knew and did not know; I could feel it, it had a physical presence.

If there was anything positive to recover from hospital, it was this twisted reconciliation process, a reconnection process with myself and with others, a necessary mending before the inevitable unwinding and ‘decreation’.

Cancer has a window. My wife describes it as BC and AC, life before and life after cancer. It’s hard to articulate this envelope. There is a telescoping of perception and an attrition of hope.

It has always been thus. When one is ‘healthy’ one is buoyed by various protective illusions and survivalist mechanisms. Now the fantasy is smashed and dissolved.

Future projection, hopes and dreams become impossible. One is rudely located in the now. Which is not a bad thing, live in the now and the morrow takes care of it self. Cancer does steal gratuitous thoughts of tomorrow, especially the species of hope that dwell in the ‘not yet.’

Fourscore years and ten is a luxury, a western conceit. Yet more than anything else I want to see my kids grow up and go grey with my wife. Sadly this is not to be. Our life envelopes have coincided for such a short time and it is painful to imagine separation. However, I am locked in the now and will take what I can.

We all have a contract with finitude and share the same destiny. There are so many diversions and schemas that navigate this fact. Hard as it seems, we have to acknowledge that each of us at the table will eventually be part of the meal (10). We will eventually become echoes in the ‘field-of-beings’. It is the paradox of the ‘me’ and the ‘we’, the journey made alone and together.

Hauntology
9 Oct 2011

#0000ff
11 Sept 2011

Typo/Graphics
3 July 2011

10 hours
29 June 2011

Green=Boom
2
21 April 2011

Green=Boom
21 April 2011

D*W*F*E are an experimental design syndicate founded by: Jimmy Loizeau, Laura Potter, and Matt Ward, their nomadic practice explores how “artefacts, systems and material cultural can offer some degree of relief from the emptiness of contemporary living”. Green=Boom is the first in a series of events, interventions and speculations. It kicks off next Monday at Shopwork. D*W*F*E do ‘made thought’, they make ‘epistemological objects’ (processes and systems too), then couple them to particular circuits. The Peckham installation presents the notion of ‘recreational bombs’ and invites members of the public to come and play. The classic formulae of design-as-answer is inverted and D*W*F*E set about curating patterns, clusters and networks. They pose questions. This is what I love about their method and practice, it’s a “schizo flux” aimed at achieving a design of derailment. Go experience Design=Boom and look out for future projects. There is a particularly amazing one that parasites the Eiffel Tower. More soon…

D*W*F*E
3 April 2011

26
20 March 2011

Letters Are Things 2
8 March 2011

Proto OOO
23 Jan 2011

Ontological Design
30 Dec 2010

If one were forced to designate the particular moment in design, or name the emerging paradigm, it would probably be ‘ontological’— a response to the ‘age of transition’ and the emergence of a new context. Ontological design is not a new set of ideas or practices but its time has come. Without being too melodramatic, it is probably the most important design philosophy today.

Ontological design surfaced in 1986 with the publication of Flores and Winograd’s ‘Understanding Computers and Cognition’. Since then various theorists and practitioners have developed the idea, most notably Anne-Marie Willis and Tony Fry. Philosophically, much of the DNA can be traced back to Heidegger and Gadamer, but Latour and OOO bring a new dimension to the debate.

Although not formally acknowledged, ontological design is evident in the burgeoning fields of metadesign, critical practice and some aspects of service and interaction design. Even graphic design is waking up (but typically, it doesn’t quite know why)!

My understanding of ontological design has been slowly fermenting over the last two years, primarily through experiences and conversations with people in and around the Goldsmiths design department. John Wood’s M21 metadesign workshop was profoundly significant. Equally teaching on Mike and Duncan’s Critical Practice MA has radically altered how I understand design. Something is emerging out of Goldsmiths and it is going to be interesting to see how ‘meta’ and ‘ontological’ design continue to change and evolve through the twin processes of dialogue and practice.

We design our world, while our world acts back on us and designs us (6). This is a very good summation of ontological design. There is a feedback loop (hermeneutic circle) and the things we make determine both designer and user. Design is not a linear one-way birthing process, it does not occur in a vacuum. When one calls forth a world, be it a font or phone, that thing has already been shaped (pre-determined) by a cacophony of voices, most of them non-human, most of them covert and unseen. The designer is one player in a sea of actors. Equally, that thing, once released into the wild, to a lesser or greater extent will begin a design process— it will act back and start to shape our own and other beings. Things design the designing of the design of things that design (7).

There is a ‘flat ontology’, one that throws the designer into relief, It understands design as a non-hierarchical network of relationships that extends way beyond the human subject and that our artifacts, products and processes also design us. In this model, knowledge is linked to doing and performance. We gain understanding, residing with the entities we corral and by being attentive to their networks. It is through a process of interaction that we become inscribed by our things and gain understanding. Equally, the things we make start to accrue knowledge and design becomes the ‘embedding of intention’. In a subtle distinction, a knife can be seen to dictate cutting rather than allow the user to cut— it gains far greater significance and agency. Of course, this has implications for the current apocalypse and what has been termed ‘structural unsustainability’. It explains our chronic inertia and how design is intimately linked to the current crisis. Refreshingly— ontological design also offers a possible way out of oblivion.

Amongst designers elements of ontological design have always been intuitively understood, particularly the idea that ‘doing is knowing’. There has always been an intimate relationship between makers and their materials. However the implications of networked entities and the ‘designing of design’ needs to be foregrounded and made explicit.

I’m particularly interested in how an ontological turn alters the practice of communication design. How can we design in the now without curtailing the future?  Ontological design incorporates relational-thinking; close attention to the clusters, networks and connections that form our practice. Design (if it ever was) is no longer just about the artifact, it’s about the network that brings it forth and the network it inaugurates once released— hence the term ‘meta’ (beyond). The isolated design object no longer occupies the privileged center of attention. Instead, it is the fossil-fueled networks that come into view, the apparatus that sustains the artifact and it supports. Such ‘macroscopic’ or exploded vision is tantamount to eco-surveillance, it needs to be internalized and habitualized; a change in the being of the practitioner (8) needs to take place. Under this new regime, highly destructive: services, systems, processes and objects become untenable.

  Here, macroscopic vision and discipline promiscuity become pre-requisites for an ‘ecosophical’ design project. They form a foundation for an approach based on low-impact intervention and minimal destruction of the biosphere. Although flawed and in need of critique, ontological design provides a strong foundation on which to build a 21st century design practice.

Island Machine
23 Dec 2010

The Christmas card below is a reflection on the current state of affairs in Brand Britannia. A hollow, bankrupt ‘island machine’ where the majority increasingly subsidize the lifestyles of a small super-rich elite— as one of the banners in parliament square read: ‘we are not your slaves’.

Brand Britannia is neo-liberalism ‘ruined abstraction’, a hyper-banal entity fashioned by the ever-spinning government-media-corporate loop. The ensuing wasteland is the inevitable result of a life solely administered by commodities.

The royal wedding and Olympic games are spectacle writ large, Brand Britannia’s dazzling poverty. As economic ‘macguffins’ they fuel the self-referential circuits of power, as follies or points of contradiction they potentially offer sites of resistance— arenas for refusal and disavowal.

Brand Britannia
15 Dec 2010

Pedal Power
6 Oct 2010

Last Sunday I went on a pedal power workshop run by ‘Magnificent Revolution’. It was brilliant— a primer on how to hook appliances to renewable power, anything from laptops to sound systems. As an electronically challenged ‘flatlander’, this was the perfect introduction into the occult word of: amps, dump loads, training stands, motors, multimeters and inverters.

As you can see from the image, harvesting the body’s energy is not easy. It requires stuff; a network of CO2-heavy bits and bobs, an assemblage of industrial age kit to leach the ‘righteous’ green juice. Such are the acts of translation and compromise in the age of transition.

The workshop raises some interesting points, pedal power becomes gleaning, it utilises industrial societies standing reserve and re-arranges the patterns. It hacks electrical ensembles and inserts itself into the circuits— motors are (quite literally) reversed and re-appropriated as dynamos.

In the UK, this approach to energy generation is slightly unnecessary. There are other more efficient approaches. However, as pointed out, pedal power is as much about the performance and the participation. Hence the beauty of the workshop format or the 8-bike rig— there is an additional communication component, these things speak.

What I like about this is that it chimes with conversations I’ve had with ‘retired futurist’ Matt Ward. At the time,
I didn’t quite get what he was talking about. He mentioned how certain pieces of work were proving difficult to assess. These things were generating anxiety, one minute appearing to be apprehended via use, the next behaving more like passive communication pieces— slippery rhetorical objects (dialogic) that were phreaking disciplines. Pedal power does the same, it is participatory; it simultaneously raises awareness and generates a product. In this sense it is far more active than traditional visual-centric media. It harnesses a very powerful
hermeneutic loop.

So these workshops provide a pragmatic foothold in the complex nightmare that is ‘sustain-ability’. We live amongst immanent networks that tend to promote circular thought and inertia. As many people have said, we just have to ‘muck-in’ and get started. There is no place for ‘beautiful soul syndrome’ in the age of transition. We have to dig where we stand. This is a brilliant way to explore a less destructive energy source, a way of keeping open the space of making and beginning to bolt together a network of communication methods and practices that support sustainment. For me, it is the beginning of ecosophical praxis.

Tony Fry
10 June 2010

D&AD
9 June 2010

Some things you let pass by, others you have to challenge. The new D&AD campaign is a case in point. Part of me wants to ignore it and not even give it the time of day. I do not want to be complicit in its game and give it the oxygen of attention that it so desperately craves. However, it is probably one of the most ignorant and insensitive pieces of communication design I’ve seen in years.

The concept and imagery has split opinion. Have a look at the comments section, a good number believe the campaign to be funny and take the stance that the detractors should lighten-up. I’m afraid I can’t laugh, a set of signifiers, that in effect, conflate students and suicide is way too close home.

What is interesting is that this is yet another example of graphic design’s inability to either deal with ‘context’ or, it’s wilful denial of context. The imagery is promoting ‘New Blood’ a showcase of this year’s student talent, and it is this particular association that must render the whole campaign questionable.

Anyone who is (even remotely) involved in contemporary education will be painfully aware of the increasing number of students presenting with serious metal health issues. In higher education, “depression is endemic”, statistically and anecdotally there is a crisis. And of course, on top of all this, there is the added complication of events in Cumbria— somehow, shotguns aren’t funny either.

For me, the whole thing smacks of creative bankruptcy, a cheap and easy set of ideas that reveal a deeper structural fault within the industry as a whole. A little bit of research and a smidgen of empathy should have instantly problematized these images. The fact that they were not reveals that graphic design continues to be encumbered by its modernist legacy— obsessed with isolated design artefacts. It still struggles to fully understand the relational approach of ‘metadesign’ and the extraordinary power of networks and context.

LPA
27 May 2010

LPA

Black

Walead Beshty
18 April 2010

I’ve been meaning to blog about Walead Beshty for a while and in particular his Fedex sculptures. They were at Altermodern last year, and (for me) were one of the highlights of the show. Beshty’s shatterproof cubes are built to fit perfectly into one of FedEx’s generic freight packages. A box that has its dimensions patented— a corporately owned unit of space. The patterns and cracks that appear in the glass are the direct result of movement, the result of traversing the ‘non-places’ and voids of international airspace. I love the poetry of these ‘assemblages’, zeitgeist objects scarred by transit. The artwork is the network: Beshty, FedEx, Patent Law,
Ground Crew, Aircraft, Gallery etc… An elegant intervention situated within a complex global constellation—
A beautiful synecdoche.

Malcolm McLaren
8 April 2010

Bachelard Meme
8 April 2010

There’s been a dirty little meme bouncing around the net for a while and it’s beginning to bug me. A couple of sites (Wikipedia included) have attributed the term ‘desire line’ to Gaston Bachelard and in particular, his book ‘The Poetics of Space’. However, there is one small problem, a complete lack of evidence for this reference. After reading the English edition for a third time and contacting Matthew Tiessen (who wrote this), I have to conclude that desire lines, or similar concepts, do not originate in The Poetics of Space. So, if anyone knows different, please, please shout and put me out of my misery.

Flatland
2 April 2010

Antimarket
1 April 2010

It is tempting to declare that there is not a single system, flow or relationship that doesn’t need revising or ‘redirecting’. Virtually every institution and practice is outmoded and obsolete— not fit for purpose. A new planetary metabolism is required, one that not only revises human-to-human relationships, but the
relationship of all things.

This idealistic statement is simplistic and fraught with problems. Yet there does seem to be just ‘one’ project, the final project at the end of history— better still, the project that might recover history. How do we prevent mass die-off and resuscitate the notion of an equitable future? How do we overwrite our capitalist selves and constitute alternative modes of being?

Post Copenhagen and there is a fractured consensus, vested interests have manipulated the chaos and either through choice or ignorance we are all happy to ‘process’ the planet. We will not relinquish our fossil fuelled lifestyles or engage in energy descent. The spectre of ‘mutually assured destruction’ is back as the system of production-consumption-destruction continues to roll on.

(One gets the sense that neo-liberalism is adopting an ‘accelerationist’ strategy, agitating the natural-cultural system to the point of collapse. Preparing for a Northern Rim de-camp and a post-apocalypse ‘reboot’.)

Planet earth can no longer run a post-Fordist operating system. We have hit ‘carrying capacity’. Like Ouroboros, capitalism is about to eat itself. The peak-everything perfect storm is brewing and various co-dependant and co-evolving systems are about to wreak havoc. Capitalism has to go.

We cannot continue the course of relentless accumulation and exponential growth. The planet will no longer support the cradle to grave system that underpins our so-called wealth. Bluntly, turning natural resources into products and burying them in the ground is not sustainable. We are hitting a limit.

This crisis is debilitating. It induces chronic inertia. How does one design in the now without curtailing the future? We’re moving into the situation where even thoughts have a carbon footprint and the internalization of eco-surveillance seems inevitable. How do we curtail the violence of design or at least steer our making-unmaking into a more sustainable territory?

Currently I am interested in the ‘ethico-political’ potential of mapping and intervention, how these two activities work together and constitute a ‘redirective practice’. Design corrals energy and matter and visualizing these flows reveals possible sites for intervention. In effect, the map starts to question the things and relationships we bring into being. Certain patterns and constellations have become toxic and it is these that will have to be adjusted or rearranged. Re-designing how we design has political ramifications, as the things we make are intimately associated with: consumption, value, growth and profit.

In ‘Capitalist Realism’ Mark Fisher talks about invoking the Real(s) underlying the reality that capitalism presents (3). The system is challenged by the facts it seeks to suppress. So although environmental catastrophe is already included within corporate narratives, the notion of a planetary limit is not— the concept is too traumatic to be assimilated (4). Mapping and intervention translates these insights into design, identifying, irritating and amplifying the sites of dissonance. It is classic ‘critical design’ territory, an opportunity to engage in some ‘hostile reconnaissance’, map the post-Fordist landscape and open-up the contradictions for debate.

Finally, in this essay, David Harvey makes a number of important points. Essentially intervention can start anywhere— a simple but liberating observation. There is no singular pressure point or privileged site of engagement; one is released from the angst of scale and ontological domain. The trick is to keep the political movement moving from one moment to another in mutually reinforcing ways (5). Multiple interventions and liturgies need to be networked and persistent, as with the ‘Red Queen Principle’, co-evolving systems that are connected and in motion.

NB
This is really a set of notes. It is my intention to take key ideas and concepts from this post and expand upon them later. For instance: making and unmaking in a green regime, the inherent violence of embodiment, species of green praxis and environmentalism’s own aporia— desire.

Alexander McQueen
11 Feb 2010

Morphogenesis
11 Feb 2010

Below Canal Bridge, on the right bank, grew twelve great trees, with roots awash. Thirteen had stood there—eleven oaks and two ash trees—but the oak nearest the North Star had never thriven, since first a pale green hook had pushed out of a swelled black acorn left by floods on the bank more than three centuries before. In its second year a bullock’s hoof had crushed the seedling, breaking its two ruddy leaves, and the sampling grew up crooked. The cleft of its fork held the rains of two hundred years, until frost made a wedge of ice that split the trunk; another century’s weather wore it hollow, while every flood took more earth and stones from under it. And one rainy night, when salmon and peal from the sea were swimming against the brown rushing water, the tree had suddenly groaned. Every root carried the groans of the moving trunk, and the voles ran in fear from their tunnels. It rocked until dawn; and when the wind left the land it gave a loud cry, scaring the white owl from the roost, and fell into the river as the sun was rising (2).

Tarka

Cognitive Map
2 Feb 2010

Unknown Pleasures
31 Jan 2010

This classic image is CP1919, the Cambridge pulsar at 19 hours 19 minutes right ascension. It is the ‘dying star’ image appropriated for Unknown Pleasures. The story goes that Bernard Sumner found the image in ‘The Cambridge Encyclopaedia of Astronomy’ and gave it to Peter Saville. Saville inverts the image at the last minute and the rest is history. What is interesting is the image’s biography and reproduction. Below left is from ‘The Cambridge Encyclopaedia of Astronomy’. Yet it was originally printed in ‘Scientific American’ (right) in January 1971, eight years before ‘Unknown Pleasures’ and six years before the Cambridge Encyclopaedia. Somewhat tangentially, CP1919 also appears in Graphis Diagrams (1974). Another cult artefact with it’s own set of narrative tentacles.

Shriekers
1 Jan 2010

Throwing a thousand quantum dice to choose a random path through terra incognita. Every orphan was an explorer, sent to map uncharted territory. And every orphan was the uncharted territory itself (1). Welcome back to hauntedGeographies. An errant blog committed to the fluid spaces of design. There was an unintentional break but now its back. Reskinned and invigorated, hopefully chapter two is more focussed and rigorous than it’s previous incarnation. The HGvehicle is ready to depart, resume its wander along the atomised circuits and fractured trails of the ‘denser now'— a mission to: make, gather, sever, connect and explore.