Putting in a good word

Taking a late autumn break, the designer sits clutching a bottle of vodka, assessing whether reports of the death of language and the deterioration in the standard of public debate have been exaggerated. Then suddenly a commentator on the TV show Gladiators describes a contestant as being “1.6 metres in the height department” – a nonsense which cannot go unchallenged. Seeking vent for his anger, he cries out “she’s 1.6 metres tall” while simultaneously hurling a copy of David Carson’s The End of Print at the screen.

The demise of the written word, and the dwindling number of people interested in reading (or educated thoroughly enough to do so) is a subject not short of coverage of late. Writing in Communication Arts magazine, William Drentell suggested that the US as a nation was losing “its taste, perhaps even its appetite for the written word”. His prognosis might easily be applied here. The growth of non-printed communication, and the mumbling incoherence of deconstructed typography, has reduced text to the level of decoration where looking good is more important than reading well. The ejaculative outbursts of advertising copy, littered with full points, commas, buts, nots and maybes does little to relieve the situation.

Toying with these ideas in his stupor, the designer wakes before dawn, fully clothed and nursing an empty bottle. The ominous signs of cerebral discomfort force him to seek solace, and he reaches past the Andrew’s liver salts to take down from the shelf a copy of Fowler’s Modern English Usage. Opening at a discussion of the relation of that and which, he reads and the pain subsides.

Words are a central part of my working day. The search for an elusive word, or making sense of an idea so it can be written, can sometimes be so frustrating that I fear spontaneous nosebleeds. Proposals, progress reports and invoices pass through my desk – structuring the way I talk about my work, and the way I will solve a problem plays a vital role in a project’s development. The prevention of misunderstanding through use of clear, concise (why use seven words when one will do?) language is a creative and economic necessity.

Designers are faced occasionally with the task of copywriting – understanding a client’s needs and putting them into words. A typical structure might be: heading (cryptic), sub-heading (the cryptic heading explained), text (an expansion of the sub-heading) and bullet points (summary of all the above). This is copy by style sheet – a linguistic “painting by numbers” and not necessarily the product of an organised mind.

The copy then comes in on disk. A master of diplomacy will offer to “have a look at the copy on behalf of the client”. Unfortunately, a lack of understanding or appreciation of the English language means that work suffers.

If it is the designer’s responsibility to create clear communication, we should take responsibility for what is being said, not just the way we say it. The assumption that your client is talking sense is a dangerous one – having them trust you with their words may take time but it will be worth it, because eventually you won’t have to compromise great design with bollock-speak. Put another way – drop a turd in a biscuit tin and then open it two weeks later – it still stinks of shit.

We should be passionate about the words we present for our clients; their correct use is as much a part of demonstrating our understanding as are the graphic solutions we employ. That this effort becomes part of a broader social quest may only become clear over time, but we must sustain and develop what Janice Kirkpatrick describes as “analytical intelligence and understanding”. The deconstruction of type and narrative is a dangerous symptom of, and response to, the communication malaise.

Failing to distinguish between the message and the method will result in conflict. Sadly, the act of using the written word will not in itself solve illiteracy, but it does acknowledge and nurture an important audience. And maybe reading your way out of a hangover may not be a typical course of action: The Authors’ and Printers’ Dictionary or Fowler’s King’s English and Judith Butcher’s Copy Editing could never replace tea and toast. But they do expose the lamentable condition in which communication finds itself. And they highlight the frightening disrespect too many designers have for the written word.