Graphic Design, the Lazy-Tech Way

Some time ago I proposed that graphic design would be among the subjects of this page. I have tried to keep the graphical content here eclectic and engaging, but I realize that I have made no direct mention of the topic itself. In fact, I have acknowledged the role of graphic design only tacitly, by offering new versions of the Mr. S banner every so often.

But in the creation of these graphics, I have stumbled upon what I believe to be the approach to graphic design that is most appropriate to our times. I call it "Lazy-Tech," and it is nearly impossible to explain.

In fact, it might be easier to explain first what Lazy-Tech is not. Take a moment, if you would, to examine Pepsi's new "Oneify" campaign. The idea is quite simple: through the magic of shared affinity for low-calorie soft drinks, an unlikely gang of stereotyped characters comes together to form an unending chain. There is a spaceman, an alien, a sasquatch, a robot, a punk-rocker, a tree, etc.

Pay special attention to the way these characters are rendered. To the untrained eye, there appears to be a certain paired-down purity to each figure. Details are represented diagrammatically and thus act more as symbols -- discreet visual clues to the identity of each creature -- than they do to add depth or texture to the forms. Beyond this, notice how the junctions between the hands are drawn. In the words of Dropkick Jisoo, the execution is "piss-poor." The Oneify campaign has the look of something someone spent very little time in doing. This, unfortunately, is not the intended meaning of "Lazy-Tech."

Now to travel to the opposite end of the design spectrum, to the ubiquitous style I refer to as "textural eclecticism." It is exemplified by Adbusters, Vice Magazine, and even Martin Venezky's Appetite Engineers (although it might not be immediately apparent from the firm's website). This approach is a great deal easier than it looks, mainly because its basis is in the rich tradition of the print advertisement. Visual interest is created by layering various photographs, clippings, and textures, making a sort of cultural trompe l'oeil. Any commentary, ironic or no, needn't come from the interjection of outside editorial content, but arises instead from the juxtaposition of the elements themselves.

Despite being extremely lazy, this last school isn't Lazy-Tech, either. The one example I have found is karlssonwilker, inc. (For a real treat, click on the "karlssonwilker"/"about us" button, and then on "jobs.") There is evidence of Lazy-Tech in their portfolio work, notably the "Souvenirs for the End of the Century" logo.

If a serviceable definition of "Lazy-Tech" has failed to emerge through these examples, look to the previous incarnation of the Mr. S logo:



This image was made in Adobe Illustrator by tracing over an existing typeface with the pencil tool. This was tremendously inefficient and would not have been undertaken by any sensible designer, when the same basic effect could by achieved by drawing the letters by hand and then scanning them. However, this undoubtedly would have made the letters more free and homogenous, eliminating the somewhat forced and awkward feeling introduced by the inefficient use of computer software. In Lazy-Tech, an implicit acknowledgement of the computer is thus built into the end product, even if it is legible as such only to other designers.

In general, as we have seen, designers are extremely lazy. One might expect computers to help them with this affliction by, say, automating repetitive tasks or providing standardized and easy-to-use templates. But such use doesn't necessarily leave any trace of the computer behind -- or, if it does, it is likely to be heavy-handed to the point of becoming offensive.

Lazy-Tech handles the problem with measured, self-referential wit.