Remaking Theory, Rethinking Practice
Andrew Blauvelt
Unlike the recent skirmishes around issues of aesthetics and legibility in contemporary graphic design practice, the adverse reaction to theory crosses the generational divide, drawing dismissal and condemnation from likely and not-so-likely suspects. This condition is not surprising. First and foremost, graphic design is a practice, and as such, it seems destined to oppose theory. This schism is rooted in the division of human labor that separates thinking from doing, head from hand, the means of reflection from the means of production. Second, in the prevailing anti-intellectual social climate affecting all claims to knowledge these days, we should not be surprised at the level of skepticism directed toward anyone proclaiming a theory of anything.
Beyond the Great Divide: Practice versus Theory
The arguments made against theory in graphic design can be sorted out in two basic reactions. On the one hand, there is a fear of overintellectualizing the practice of a profession whose relative “simplicity” is often expressed with disclaimers such as, “Well, it’s not brain surgery.” Perhaps graphic design isn’t a physically invasive procedure, but certainly there’s the same potential danger of mind-numbing results. Even J. Abbott Miller, a designer who writes about the history and theory of graphic design, recently asked, “One always hears complaints about the ‘dumbing-down’ of design in journalism, but shouldn’t we be equally critical of the ‘smarting-up’ of design for academic audiences?”1 This comment represents something of a milestone insofar as it even acknowledges that theory is being used, if only to claim its use has gone too far. Another variant of the anti-intellectual reaction to theory is harbored in the deepest depths of design mythology. Theory, precisely because it is characterized as external to the design process, is seen as disruptive to a designer’s “intuition,” dousing the flames of the designer’s proverbial creative imagination.
On the other hand, there is a concern that theory is simply too vague and abstract to be useful for graphic designers. In this line of reasoning, theory (always described monolithically and without specificity or definition) does not and cannot respond to the particularities of graphic design practice, rooted as it is in the materiality of the so-called real world. Apparently, theory is ever only about abstractions on the ephemeral and immaterial. Conversely, graphic design is seen as irreducibly complex, grounded in the messy realities of ink and paper, too constrained by industrialization and capitalism to ever rise to the lofty heights of theory.
This impasse between theory and practice in graphic design must be bridged, not for the sake of theory, but for the sake of practice. However, the challenge is to both theory and practice. For theory, it means engaging in the making of graphic design, not simply as a means for critical reflection about work, but a critical intervention in work. For practice, it means rethinking the very definitions and limitations of graphic design, not simply to add a little intellectual glamour to an everyday practice nor as a rallying cry to colonize other areas of creative endeavor, but to finally understand graphic design as a form of social practice.
Thus, the title of this essay is “Remaking Theory, Rethinking Practice,” not “Rethinking Theory, Remaking Practice.” As such, it is my attempt to question why “thinking” automatically aligns itself with theory and how “making” positions itself almost exclusively in terms of practice. Rarely do we consider that theory is something that is made—let alone something that is creatively fashioned. Theory is seen as something “out there,” like storm clouds on the horizon or, perhaps more fittingly, a fog bank, slowly and completely enveloping our minds. In this scenario, theory is preexistent, waiting to be discovered, waiting to happen. By understanding that theory is fashioned, refashioned, and self-fashioned—not merely fashionable, preordained, or predestined—we can begin the process of putting theory to work.
It is also important to recognize that graphic design, no matter how it is practiced, fashions its own theories about making that help give it meaning, significance, and legitimacy. Just as it is impossible to honestly entertain the notion of being outside of politics, it is equally impossible to imagine any practice of design that is somehow independent of, or beyond, a theory of practice. Just as sociologists are able to formulate theories about social practices, it is possible to construct a theory—or theories—about the practice of graphic design. However, unlike social scientists who are often left on the sidelines to describe, graphic designers can actively redefine their practice from within.
The Turn Toward Theory
The very fact that we can have a design conference in 1997 with the word “theory” in the title—well, the subtitle at least—demonstrates that something is afoot. As the literary critic Terry Eagleton relates:
Theory on a dramatic scale happens when it is both possible and necessary for it to do so—when the traditional rationales which have silently underpinned our daily practices stand in danger of being discredited, and need either to be revised or discarded. This may come about for reasons internal to those practices, or because of certain external pressures, or more typically because of a combination of both. Theory is just a practice forced into a new form of self-reflectiveness on account of certain grievous problems it has encountered. Like small lumps on the neck, it is a symptom that all is not well.2
Indeed, all has not been well for graphic design recently. And both internal and external forces have acted in concert to disrupt the practice of graphic design, forcing it to a new level of self-consciousness and self-reflexivity. The most obvious factors have been the technological challenges and opportunities imposed by the introduction of the personal computer, which transformed the way graphic design is produced and distributed. With the threat of every personal computer owner becoming a desktop publisher, graphic design was in danger of demystifying its professional practice and abdicating its perceived role as a “gatekeeper” to mass communications. Simultaneously, the personal computer expanded the range of media and skills needed by graphic designers in the areas of motion, sound, and interactivity, for example, which threatened the very definition of graphic design rooted in the world of print. Unfortunately, both conditions only serve to emphasize the dependency of a definition of graphic design predicated on a set of (ever-expanding) technical skills. Faced with the prospect of massive mechanical de-skilling and pervasive digital re-skilling, it is no wonder that graphic designers seek their social legitimacy less in terms of what skills separate “amateurs” from “professionals,” but in the “value-added” notion of design as a potent social and cultural force.
Coinciding with these technological challenges is a more widespread public consciousness of design itself. If the 1980s initiated the age of designer “things” (e.g., jeans, water, and furniture), those discrete objects coalesced in the 1990s around a constellation of various marketable lifestyles. The advent of niche marketing effectively disrupted the notion of mass markets and, with it, the idea of mass communication. The idea of “audience” itself has changed as the cultural geography of society has changed, altering the demographic composition of not only potential audiences, but also graphic design students and practitioners.
The introduction of theory into the design curriculum is the logical consequence of such challenges, as teachers, students, and practitioners attempt to come to terms with these internal and external changes. Rarely does one encounter any course called “design theory.” Rather, the introduction of theory into the curriculum has been through the back door—so to speak—of history classes, seminars on design issues, and, occasionally, in studio-based projects and assignments. If the 1980s saw the drive toward design history, then the 1990s witnessed the move toward theory. Of course, the introduction of history into design curricula elicited less negative reaction than the move toward theory, in part, I think, because history was seen as a confirmation of the logical evolution of a craft into a profession. Plus, it certainly didn’t hurt to have wonderful images of old, but recognizable, things: after all, a poster is a poster is a poster. History gave life to graphic design by giving it a past and, by implication, a future. Theory, like history, serves to contextualize the practice of design in any number of ways, not the least of which is to position it in relationship to other areas of intellectual inquiry. While a history of a discipline by its very nature defines limits and thereby creates autonomy, any multidisciplinary theory of graphic design by its nature robs the discipline of some of its autonomy by questioning its limits.
In a recently published interview with Ellen Lupton, Lorraine Wild—one of those pioneering souls in the American design history movement in the 1980s—comments on the role of theory in relationship to practice:
Theory has opened up a multitude of ways that we can understand our work, but it will not tell anyone how to produce a better or more interesting design. Graphic design will continue to be measured—or seen—through its visual manifestations, in all their variety.3
While this comment may be somewhat surprising, coming as it does from someone closely identified with contributions to graphic design history, theory, and criticism, Wild’s comments express a more widespread ambivalence about how theory might be useful to designers. While theory is given the possibility of informing our understanding of work, it is denied any possibility of contributing to the making of such work. This tidy division of labor, splitting the theoretical from the practical, only serves to reinforce the very difference—indeed, the very distance—between theory and practice, which is at the heart of the problem.
Rethinking Practice
Theory provides the basis with which to ask questions not only about work, but also through work. And if nothing else, what design lacks in terms of interesting work these days is not necessarily more visual variety, but rather more provocative questions and polemical answers.
But it would be misleading to suggest that theory is something that is only added to the design process or curriculum when, in actuality, it is something that is already there and is made visible, and once discovered, makes visible certain assumptions and problems. We can and do import theories and ideas from other disciplines in order to understand our work, but it is only through the integration and synthesis of these ideas into the very materiality and particularity of graphic design that we can begin to determine the relevance of such an operation.
Not surprisingly, I see the role of theory in design not as a set of outside influences, assorted bibliographies, academic electives, or ex post facto critiques, but rather as integral to the process of making graphic design. In this way, I concur with Jan van Toorn when he describes the role of the contemporary graphic designer as a “practical intellectual,” someone who is actively engaged in critical reflection about the designer’s process of making.4 By recognizing that the theoretical is not simply something that is done either before or after work has been made, but rather is crucial to the very process of making, graphic designers can actively contribute to the (re)definition of their roles in the communicative process.
It has become a cliché to say that the role of the graphic designer is undergoing significant change. The danger of repeating this truism too many times is that it will be considered inevitable. An expanded role for the designer in the communicative process is by no means guaranteed. Rather than submitting passively to the vicissitudes of change, graphic designers must actively reconstruct their roles. This is, of course, happening on a small scale, as designers entertain broader notions of graphic design, engage in entrepreneurial actions that challenge the ideology of the marketplace, or broaden their own creative roles in the formulation of projects and problems.
That is why I believe the role of graduate education today must be research oriented if any constructive redefinition of design practice is to be entertained. While professional practice increasingly accommodates the kind of “visual variety” Lorraine Wild referred to previously, it has not had to confront, in any large, systematic way, the challenge of not simply having to solve communication problems, but to pose them. A truly radical design practice, in my book, will be one that actively disrupts the conventions of the design process and transgresses the professional boundaries and limitations of graphic design, and not one that merely bears the visual signs of radicalism as a kind of calling card.
But what is research in the context of graphic design? Typically, research is understood as “getting to know your problem or subject.” While this is not necessarily problematic—in fact, we might say that it is essential—we should not let this be the only function of research. Research in graphic design, much like theory and criticism, asks some much larger questions than can be asked by any one design problem or solution. These questions, while specific, are also open-ended in the sense that they can be made manifest in any number of ways. So, while there is a tendency in both research and theory toward the abstract and general, there is also the necessity of grounding any answers or solutions in a particular context, in a specific material reality, and a concrete historical moment. And it is this balance of the general and the specific, the abstract and the particular, which will help keep the answers asked by research and theory from becoming universal claims to Truth. Modernist design theory and research tended to ask questions removed from any particular cultural context and any specific historical moment. By doing so, their answers were often presented as universal and ahistorical—placeless and timeless. A critical, theoretical disposition helps frame and limit the answers found in research by making them contingent—specific to the historical moment and the particular context from which they emerge; in effect, situated knowledge and timeliness replace objectivity and timelessness.
Teaching Theory in Graphic Design Practice
The central questions remain: What is the role of theory in the design curriculum? And what do we mean by “theory”? I can only answer these questions, which have been central to my own concerns, by relating specific examples in the formulation of a new graduate program at North Carolina State University.
We began by acknowledging that the graphic design faculty shared at least one common view: graphic design does not begin nor end in the objects it makes. While hardly an epiphany, it is a sentiment that is broadly acknowledged yet under-theorized. In order to more fully contextualize the practice of graphic design, it was necessary to adopt and adapt a model of cultural production and consumption from research done in cultural studies. This model recognizes that there are important stages or moments in the life of designed artifacts, from their production through their distribution and eventual consumption. It is important to note that this model is dynamic and cyclical, meaning that any stage can and does influence other stages.
We began by moving outward from the designed product, looking at the cognitive interaction between designed artifacts and those who use them—as viewers, readers, audiences, receivers, browsers, or consumers. It was also necessary to place the entire realm of design—designers, design artifacts, institutions, and audiences—within a larger framework of society and culture, which ultimately “authorizes” its making. Influence is reciprocal, so we examine how society and culture shape graphic design as well as how graphic design shapes society and culture. We also felt obliged to consider the impact of digital media on both graphic design practice and society from a position that is critical of the kind of technological determinism so rampant in the society and profession today. These three areas of cognitive interaction, cultural reflexivity, and technological innovation form a set of interrelated discourses about graphic design practice.
Various theories are introduced in topical seminars that cover these frameworks or topics. For example, in addressing problems of cognitive interaction, students are introduced to material from cognitive psychology, perceptual studies, and learning theory; or when confronting the social and cultural implications of graphic design, students are introduced to theories of representation drawn from anthropology, ethnography, and sociology; or when assessing the influence of digital technologies on practice and society, students study theories of other media forms such as television, film, video, and literature in order to grapple with a convergence of media in electronic environments.
Importantly, these seminars are connected to studio courses, which require the synthesis of ideas in the form of design projects that address, confirm, or challenge the ideas presented. The focus of such studios is the creative application of theoretical ideas in design projects, which are constructed by the students in such a way as to ask pertinent questions. Unlike the objectives of undergraduate education, students are not asked to solve problems, but are encouraged to pose questions. This represents a fundamental challenge to traditional forms of design education, which exist to replicate the status quo through problem-solving projects that confirm what we, the profession, already know. By contrast, problem-posing education centralizes the student as an active agent in the formulation of projects that question what we, as a profession, already know as well as things that we might never had considered.
In a problem-posing education, students must be able to critically examine their world and their role within it.5 This means that a critical disposition on the part of the student and teacher is necessary to fully capture the radicalism of the proposition. Critical thinking and making skills are crucial for success. Students must be able to formulate questions that are not simply reducible to yes or no answers, because this is the prevailing logic that must be overcome. Questions that cannot be answered with a simple yes or no are, in fact, research questions. And if the practice of graphic design is more than an unending series of solutions to never-ending problems, then we might begin to understand graphic design as a researchable activity, subject to both the limits of theory and the limitations of practice.
Notes
1. J. Abbott Miller, “What Did You Do in the Design Studio, Daddy?” Eye 6, no. 22 (autumn 1996), 6.
2. Terry Eagleton, The Significance of Theory (Oxford, England, and Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1990), 26.
3. Ellen Lupton, Mixing Messages: Graphic Design and Contemporary Culture (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1996), 173.
4. For a more complete explanation of van Toorn’s position, see his essay, “Thinking the Visual: Essayistic Fragments on Communicative Action,” in And Justice For All . . ., ed. Ole Bouman (Maastricht, the Netherlands: Jan van Eyck Akademie Editions, 1994), 141–152.
5. For an account of problem-posing strategies in educational theory, see especially chapter 2 of Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, rev. ed. (New York: Continuum, 1993).