No posts on the blog for a week or so as I was at Glastonbury, so here, by way of an appeasement are some Instagrams I took instead…

Last week was judging week at D&AD, the week where the great and the good in the design industry get together and pass judgement on the work sent in by all the hopeful designers looking to gain their yellow-pencil-shaped approval.

Normally this is a closed process, but this year in addition to encouraging the judges to tweet their thoughts and publishing live lists of shortlisted work on their website, D&AD also offered to show groups round on judging day. Needless to say, I jumped at the chance and promptly invited myself.

I’ve been really glad to see this sort of openness finally coming from the D&AD. In the past, I wasn’t sure what to make of them. I was first introduced to the organisation as a student, and I diligently entered the student awards without really understanding the relevance of it all. There wasn’t as much information around back then, it felt like it was a mysterious private members club for the design elite, and not one a student designer who had come from a job on a trading estate in the West Midlands had any chance of ever belonging to.

Over the years I attended many of the lectures, and my various workplaces occasionally entered a project I had worked on, but the D&AD and I comprehensively failed to make any sort of impression on each other. It remained something out of my reach, the doors to the private members club stayed closed.

And then a couple of things happened. Firstly, a project I worked on, Vodafone Music, made it into the 2009 Annual. This was a big deal and seeing my name in the book alongside those of revered and respected practitioners was very satisfying. As a reward, I was given a year’s membership to the D&AD, and so little by little those austere doors started to open to me. (metaphorically of course). Things like Twitter had opened up design conversations too, and for the first time I found myself ‘talking’ to my design heroes directly, getting an insight into what lay inside the club, and a sense of the guts of my industry. I scoured eBay and started collecting the Annuals (at the time of writing I have every one from 1994 to present, plus a few others), studying the projects that made it – and those that won the coveted pencil – trying to figure out what they had in common. What was the formula for gaining entry to the winners’ hexagon, what was I up against?

This was the year that Matt Dent won the almost mythical black pencil for his UK Royal Mint coin designs. Something clicked. I had assumed these people were Dan Brown’s Illuminati, and I was going to have to learn their handshakes, but in actual fact you didn’t have to have studied at a legendary design school, have worked in a world-famous studio, or hang out on the yachts of monied industry figures to win a pencil. You just had to have a great idea and do it well. Matt was proof. That’s what all the winners had in common. (well, most of them anyway) Although both the Illuminati and graphic designers do share a love of ambigrams…

So flash forward to the present day, and there I am walking around in the Grand Hall at Olympia, looking at the work through the eyes of a D&AD judge (metaphorically of course). Some of it was already famous from the blogosphere, some was new and some things you could tell weren’t going to make it (including a poster of mine, but that’s another story). The judges were all debating the merits of things and there was an atmosphere of warm sincerity to the whole thing. Everyone was taking their duty very seriously. Work was laid out anonymously and each piece got an equal shot at greatness. It was inspiring, some of the work was phenomenal. I did genuinely feel welcome (even if I comprehensively failed to find the courage to talk to anyone important), and it seemed that newcomers with a good idea can get noticed in such an open forum. It’s tough, but possible.

I was left with a renewed sense of possibility and the feeling that the D&AD was there for me if I wanted it (and had the money of course) and that all it really was, was a bunch of nice people who all loved design as much as I do. Perhaps I had judged it unfairly, perhaps if I stopped feeling intimidated by it all I could get involved.

I managed to hang around, to be present at the launch of the new White Pencil, which was quite a moment. A selfless award? An award which it’s promised will recognise a good solution be it large or small? An award which only costs £25 to enter? £25 for a shot at making the world a better place? That sounds like real progress. I’m in.

The evening ended at the pub, which, outside of the studio, I guess is the natural habitat of any designer. It was a warm spring evening and the beer tasted good, but of course it wasn’t the real world. Not the real world of clients, deadlines, briefs and budgets, and not the world I live in during working hours. So as welcoming as the D&AD are, and as tempting as it is to get drawn into – it seems to me that the best course of action is to stay in the real world. To look past the famous names, familiar JPGs and talismanic pencils, and focus on doing the best work possible. To win my own and my clients’ belief first and just hope somewhere along the way, some people stood around in the epic Olympia Grand Hall of the future see something they like. If they do, great, and if they don’t? Well I can come back sharper next year.

So it’s business as usual then, but somehow now after seeing it all from the inside, anything feels possible. And the door’s ajar…

I’m a bit late posting this, but I went along to the Design Museum a couple of weeks ago, for the private view of Dalton Maag’s type installation entitled Shape My Language.

The centrepiece installation is a cascade of glyphs from typefaces, which gives you a real sense of the generosity of forms in typography, as well as their structural basis (and their Unicode number). Well, whatever it means, it’s lovely. It was there to announce the Ubuntu project, which is a very intriguing attempt to build an open source typeface containing every necessary character in the world, for the Ubuntu flavoured Linux operating system. If you don’t believe me, it said so on the wall:

And if any of that went over your head, you could still just play hunt-the-letter-r instead…

You can read more about it here, or go and see it at the Design Museum London.

Ben Casey of The Chase came in to work yesterday, and instead of the usual career synopsis, which most visitors choose to relate, he chose to talk about something “more interesting”, just one project. This was to be his work for Preston North End football club, a project which he described as “the perfect self initiated project”, encompassing design, art and football.

And I have to admit, at that point I was worried, not being a fanatical football lover, and having attended the talk in order to see some great ideas-driven graphic design from a company who have featured in D&AD every year for 23 years, I wasn’t sure I was up for a lot of football anecdotes and personal indulgences.

But I was too hasty, because Ben went on to tell us how his childhood love of Preston North End football club led from him redesigning their logo and stationery…

…to actually designing their STADIUM with no prior architectural knowledge…

“…it was just working on a grid system, similar to type really…”

If you let a graphic designer loose on a football stadium, then this is what you’re going to get:

Amazing. Seats as pixels. I have to say, that football or no football, this was right up my street, and exactly the sort of thing I struggled to inspire various meeting rooms of people with for England United. It was that sort of moment when you see something you wish you’d thought of first, except it was worse, because I had thought of it, and had it discarded.

Here’s his logo for The Great Room, the stadium’s hospitality suite:

Another shot dead on target. And what about a gift bag for the ajoining National Football Museum?

Bang. A hat-trick. The crowd go wild.

The talk predictably went into extra time. Despite there being only one project to discuss, Ben’s love for it shone through and that sort of dedication to the fabric of a brief always results in special things.

Tim from Hat-trick design sent me some images of their recent Giants of Rugby project, which he must have had some sort of sixth sense about, because it was right up my street. In fact, it’s very similar to something I’ve done for another sport-related project, but I’m not allowed to show you yet. I loved it when I saw it recently at their Typographic Circle talk, but couldn’t find much evidence of it online.

Anyway, as it’s Hat-trick, it’s pretty self explanatory. The giants of Rugby, made from little Rugby shirt icons, and printed at massive scale at Twickenham Stadium.

Which reminds me, their identity for the stadium itself was lovely too…

Apparently, Rugby is like footyball, but you’re allowed to pick the ball up and hit people.

I went along to the sold out Typographic Circle lecture last week by Hat-trick Design and I’m glad I got a ticket because it was fantastic.

In what was possibly the exact opposite of the recent Neville Brody D&AD lecture, they told us straight away that they intended to show us 30 projects in 60 minutes. And while Brody relished operating on some kind of higher plane to his audience, Jim and Gareth from Hat-trick were pointedly down to earth about the whole thing.

You’ve probably worked out that the self imposed format meant there would only 2 minutes to talk about each project, but the thing with Hat-trick’s work is that it is so well engineered and idea-centric that 2 minutes is generous. The concept hits you in the face as soon as the JPG flashes onto the screen, and a moment later you’re wishing you had thought of it yourself. That left an average of 110 further seconds to look at it and become increasingly envious before the next project was revealed. 30 times.

“Most of these projects are fairly self-explanatory”

Coming from an environment where even the simplest idea is explained by a 50 page PowerPoint deck and a conference room for the morning, I loved the efficiency of it. So, I’ll be similarly to the point here, and show some of my favourites from the evening along with the odd quote I managed to scribble down. I’ve gathered all of these images from the internet, as, while I did take my camera to the event, I was forced to watch it all through a tiny gap between the neck and ear-lobe of the guy sat in front of me.

Remembrance stamps for the Royal British Legion

Can you see the ••• – - – ••• ‘SOS’ perforations in this coastguard set? Genius.

Apparently Darwin was related to apes. Who knew?

“The first thoughts are usually the right ones”

Bright sparks from the Norwich University College of Arts

Regular readers will remember this one…

House of Illustration identity

There was loads more, I won’t post everything here. I only wish I had been brave enough to ask questions at the end, but for some reason the Typographic Circle had decided to turn the heating up to insane levels and I was about to pass out due to dehydration. Don’t worry though, there was a pub next door.

I would have asked about what other work they do, as not every project has a perfect outcome or client relationship. Especially when they started out, they must have had to produce some work that they had less control over and had to acknowledge would never be an award-winner. Although these days they’re design industry stars, that position took some earning and I’d like to have heard about the journey from hard reality to design driving seat. The D&AD wouldn’t let just anyone walk off with a silver pencil for a self initiated project without an actual brief or real client, but that shows you how far Hat-trick have come. And rather depressingly told me how far I still have to go.

Hat-trick seem to have ascended to such heights that they can convince any client to indulge their creative whims, talking property developers into letting them do stop frame animation, or The Salvation Army into going all trendy. All this is particularly frustrating when I possess first-hand knowledge that it’s next to impossible to get a corporate branding client to have any real print done instead of a PDF, or to consider any kind of brochure that isn’t A4.

Jim Sutherland’s mind boggling typographic playing cards which appealed greatly to my OCD gene.

I think one of the main things I took away from the talk was the scale of their ambition. Even though they’re a small company, they relentlessly tackle big projects, as well as the little creative urges, and throw themselves into things they not necessarily already know how to do. That’s how you get better you see.

Oh, and one last quote from the evening:

“If the only tool you have is a hammer, every problem is a nail.”

Go to their website immediately and look at the rest of their work.