Preemptive Social Enterprise
How does one design a book meant to be disruptive?
One of the best parts about being designer is getting to try different styles, whether you want to or not.
For me, my go-to vibe is clean, gridded. Classic. Examples: verynice.co. This blog. My website (don’t look at it, it’s not ready for you yet). Lots of white, lots of Gotham, lots of quirky hand-drawn bits to liven it all up a little. Comfortable. Clearly I’ve found my safe-space. But when you’re handed the assignment of visually interpreting a manifesto… clean, safe, and ample white-space just isn’t going to cut it.
Reading Part 01 of Matthew’s manuscript (lovingly titled FULLDRAFT-TowardaPreemptiveSocialEnterprise 2.gdoc), I knew this endeavor couldn’t be conceived in Photoshop, InDesign, or anywhere that wasn’t tangible, haptic, flammable—the real world. I was going to have get my hands dirty.
I like to get into these kinds of projects with the help of adjectives, verbs and nouns. It’s helpful when scouring the internet for “inspiration” (read: stuff I like and want to rip off). “Manifesto.” Cut and paste. Xerox. Photocopy. Glitch, grimy, grungy. Halftone, screenprint.
The feeling I got from these manifestos is that they had to be created and distributed quick. Cheaply. No time for $249 typefaces for web and desktop. No colors, nothing fancy. Quick, rapid; print 500 and get them into the hands of the people tonight. Cut it up, paste it, copy it, fold and you’re done. Hustle.
Something Matthew and I have in common is we like a good set of rules (ironically). I decided this: only standard issue fonts (Impact. Courier New. Times New Roman. Optima). No colors. Not too many photos. And so, I got to work: the Manifesto was created in InDesign solely with our old “favorite,” Impact. Printed out. Cut up. Rearranged. Scanned back in. Manipulated.
The manifesto goes through a transformation. It starts out with organic, analog manipulation. I printed out. I crumpled, cut, burned, soaked—those poor pages never stood a chance.
As you move through the pages, the images begin to shift and become something else; something digital, modern, almost disturbing. Some pages are a combination of both, but by the end, it’s clear that we’re in a reality of the digital, of the screen.
Of course, the manifesto isn’t the only part of the book, it’s just Part 01 of 03—but don’t let me spoil it for you. Go get your own copy; once we’re out of them, they’re gone forever, guaranteed.