The machines and software that were supposed to make our jobs easier actually made our jobs at least five times harder: we had to learn color separation skills, typesetting, pre-press prep and trapping, halftone highlight and shadow dot control based on type of paper and press, and a myriad of other bewildering technologies, not to mention learn computer basics and maintenance.
I had always worked with typesetters that had been in the business longer than I'd been alive. I worked with color separators that had learned their trade in the printing capitols of Ireland and Switzerland. I had people that did nothing but pre-press prep all day, every day. I worked with local giants and wizards of print technology. And relied on them. I trusted these people to make my work look great, time and again.
Almost overnight they were gone—retired, moved on, passed away, and certainly of no use whatsoever in the new age of one-computer-can do-it-all technology. They went out of business. They never returned.
Very well, so be it. My dad had to know how to groom a horse because he rode a horse to school. Times changed, so I was spared that particular learning curve. So too, in graphic design, times changed and we all had to know five disciplines rather than the one we loved in the first place. Those of us that stayed in the business set aside our ruling pens and X-Acto knives, and accepted the new challenges.
I've been teaching digital design and production for as long as computers have been the tool of choice for designers. And I've made my students learn a dozen disciplines because that is the new way to succeed as a designer. (Yes, Web design has added several more disciplines to the list that "visual communicators" must master.)
But one discipline or skill no one could have prepared us for eventually demanded our attention. I had worked for years with copywriters and editors. Suddenly, because of the one-computer-can-do-it-all mentality, I had to be a copywriter. When I was growing up, artistic kids were not even expected to be able to spell—that's left brain stuff, like math and biology. Yet here I was having to write copy, proofread ads and brochures, know my sentence structure and grammar, and actually write something interesting! Compelling.
If my design work is bad, I get the blame. If my color images come out muddy, I get the blame. If my job is a royal pain to print due to poor production, I accept the blame. And if my headline is misspelled, or my copy is wrong, boring, or unclear, guess who gets the blame? There are no more copywriters in most "design departments," just one lonely visual communications specialist sitting in front of her computer wondering what copywriters were. Designers are expected to be literate now.
Except they don't know it. They don't get it. Of all the demands I've placed on my students over the years, the one thing that brings tears, anger, and threats of "complaining to the dean," is holding them accountable for spelling, punctuation, grammar, word usage, and sentence structure—they despise me for it. One student filed a complaint that I am "worse than an English teacher." Another raged that I said I would not take more than ten points off for spelling. I replied, "You had 102 spelling and grammatical errors in a three-page paper. Three double-spaced pages." I offered to let him write the entire paper over, or take the 20-point loss. He very wisely took the loss.
The tragedy is not that designers can't be good—even great—copywriters and editors, it's that they so often have never learned to read and write proficiently. They don't know the difference between their, there, and they're, or then and than, or between accept and except. The only verb they appear to know is "impact." I've gotten sentences like "The impact impacted everyone." Design students (and professionals!) trip over it's and its, or who and whom, and kludge together "compound" words like nevermind, alot, and alright, while snapping tapeworm, today, and nevertheless into pieces.
I recently ran across this in Chicago Style Q&A online:
"Q. I’ve gotten into an argument online with a person who said that The Chicago Manual of Style states that it is okay to use the word, “alot.” I find this hard to believe because, “alot” is not a word, but I was unable to confirm or deny this on your site. Furthermore, he seems to think that all spelling rules are flexible and a matter of personal style, and he again uses The Chicago Manual of Style to back his position up. Could you shed some insight onto this situation?
A. Tell your friend that CMOS says he is full of baloney, and if he doesn’t believe you, give him the URL for this page."[1]
The United States is somewhere between 21st and 49th in literacy in the world, depending on the criteria of different surveys. Putting it in the kindest way possible, today's young designers were never taught to read and write. It's not their fault.
Okay, so get over it. Learn to read and write.
As a designer, it's your job—indeed, your responsibility—to be literate. You work in the publishing industry, and whether in paper and ink or multi-media, your work demands that you be able to read and write on a professional level. You're the last person to see your brochures, signs, direct marketing pieces, and web pages before they are published. Be prepared to accept the blame if your client is "Open to the Pubic," or "Excepts Credit Cards." Literacy is the 6th discipline that advertising designers had to accept in those changing times.
Learn to read and write—please.
Photo: MSNBC Countdown with Keith Olbermann.
[1] University of Chicago Press, "Chicago Style Q&A" online
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