This text was written and self-published as a zine, From Punk to Proudhon? An autobiographical look at the poster, design, and screenprinting ideas of Garage Collective
in mid-2008. Despite its age, a number of points are still relative to my practice today. I also wanted to save it from Myspace obsolescence!
I never wanted to be a graphic designer. At least not in the traditional
sense — the faceless middle-man servicing the corporate body was
something I didn't want to be. And when that's often the only direction
encouraged within the design world, it becomes increasingly hard to find
and explore alternatives, let alone sustainable ones.
Inspired
by one part ego, one part punk, and a good dash of 'politics', my
alternative to the overly commercial realm of graphic design ended up as
'Garage Collective' — the banner under which my design and screenprint
output has come to be known. Over time, Garage Collective has had a
number of projects and sometimes confused directions — from local and
international band's gigposters, grassroots political campaigns,
features in a few exhibitions (as well as one of my own), numerous zines
and writings (This Is Not A Mannifesto — Towards An Alternative Design
Practice), and my own personal screenprinted projects. It's these
personal projects that have encouraged me to re-think, not only my own
practice, but Garage Collective itself — it's current position and the
possibility of other creative directions. The following text is the
manifestation of that re-think.
—
Garage Collective was
set up in my garage in Christchurch, New Zealand around August 2007,
with the explicit intention of avoiding the design industry and all that
it encompasses — advertising, profitability, marketing, consumption,
and ultimately, the advancement of our current exploitative and
illogical system — Capitalism. By setting myself up independent of this
mainstream conception of design, I have been lucky enough to participate
in projects which, in my mind, have been far more worthwhile and
productive than encouraging profit margins, consumer culture, and an
elitist design minority.
Whole-heartedly subscribing to the punk
ethic of Do-It-Yourself, my dad and I built most of the equipment
required to screenprint from scratch — a lightbox for exposure, the
vacuum table — both crafted from some basic internet plans and a few
trips to the hardware store. And while I knew I wanted to focus on the
medium of screenprinting as a way of merging my interest in punk and
design into screenprinted gigposters — my knowledge of screenprinting
was basic at best. The best way to learn is by doing, so my skills as a
rather lo-fi printer grew as I dived head first into production.
For
me, gigposters are chronologically linked to the community notice board
of old, as well as those decadent Victorian broadsheets packed with
oxymoron's, chaotic type, and more often than not, a slightly warped
sense of humour. They both spoke to a particular audience, and in the
case of gigposters, not much has changed. The visual language of a
subculture — gigposters often convey, through particular imagery and
aesthetics, a set of codes meant only for those in the know. This idea
of communication between like-minded individuals, bands, and other
screenprinters and poster makers inspired the name 'Garage Collective'.
Although not a literal collective, for me it has come to mean a loose
gathering of shared ideas and ideals, of both the people I've physically
worked with, as well as the people I get to share my visual
interpretations with on the street and at the shows.
So, the
initial phase of my practice was to design and print unique, hand
crafted posters from my garage — gigposters, political posters —
anything that was not intended to profit off the backs of others. No
design firms, no major label bands, no advertising. To exist in this
fashion, completely independent of the design industry, was in my mind, a
political feat.
—
For close to two years this idea of
independent and alternative printing has sustained Garage Collective and
my individual practice. However, a growing interest in community and
workplace struggle, and the ideas of non-hierarchal, direct action
politics has meant I'm revaluating the direction of Garage Collective.
My interest in band posters has dwindled, towards a greater interest in
the role cultural and graphic work can play in political agitation and
radical, collective struggle for social justice — as well as a more
tangible political stance for Garage Collective, rather than simply
existing independent of the design industry. This hasn't been a sudden
shift in thinking — political and social causes were always on the
agenda, as well as a visual sensibility that is (hopefully) more
though-provoking than your typical band poster. Rather, it is a shift in
priorities, with emphasis on the political winning out over the
musical.
'Political' is a rather ambiguous term, one that can
cover the spectrum of elections, political parties and parliamentary
democracy to stencil art and sidewalk graffiti. The definition of
political work I lean towards is what some may consider a-political —
that is to say, completely devoid of parliamentary politics, with an
emphasis on community building, self-determination, empowerment,
economic emancipation, and most importantly, class awareness via
cultural production. Sound like a mouthful? That's because it is, and
comes with a number of issues that, as a creative person educated on the
unfailable idea of artistic individualism and a bourgeois concept of
'insistence on form and knowledge of form' — can be rather problematic.
—
Subcultures,
like elitism, are often extremely exclusive. Unfortunately, large
aspects of design, art, and even activism can be rightly regarded as
exclusive in their own ways — the uber fashionable, money-driven design
culture, or the alienating, dogmatic 'know-it-all' vangaurdism of
activism. Thus a problem arises — how do I, as an individual 'designer'
interested in making socially concerned work, do so in a way that is
inclusive, worthwhile, and ultimately empowering — not just for myself,
but for those around me? When society places such an emphasis on the
'individual genius' of the artist and their final output, rather than
their social commitment, it makes it rather hard for those completely
disenfranchised by this understanding of artistic work to construct
alternatives, completely free of the established connotations.
More
than ever, I am finding that I am no longer concerned with the visual
language of subcultures, whether it be musical (gigposters) or cultural
(design) — but with building sustainable relationships and
decentralised, social organisation with communities and everyday working
people — in short, a wider and more inclusive demographic. Again,
problems arise — what gives me the right, as a somewhat privileged,
white, 'middle class', university educated designer, to seek out and
interpret those communities through my creative practice? Is this kind
of cultural approach even valid when compared with the various forms of
drudgery forced upon us from every angle — that being social, economic,
and political? Would my energies be better served somewhere else, in an
entirely different form? These realities of everyday, working life
strongly influence my thinking — whether it be artistic or not — and
figure with a lot more clarity than they had previously.
Ultimately,
cultural production is the most direct means available to me at this
point, and as such, seem to be the most logical way to approach the
vices of everyday life — vices which are not only perpetuated by social,
economic, and political means, but increasingly cultural as well.
—
Cultural
production, such as print and electronic media, plays an integral role
in the current way of life. It is the means by which a monopoly of
content and control by a few over the rest of us is kept in check.
Consumption, and the spectacle of consumption, contribute to the
alienation and social poverty we currently experience. "The powers that
be are no dummies: they know that power largely rests on the unfettered
spread of emotion, on illusions of success, symbols of strength, orders
to consume, and elegies to violence" (Eduardo Galeano in "Upside Down").
Mass culture not only encourages us to buy and sell, it actively
maintains the necessary prejudices and stereotypes that keep division,
isolation and fear prominent in our class-based society.
Design
is a conscious proponent of this hegemonic process, and an affluent one
at that. That is why it is increasingly important to create alternative
cultural perspectives or values, and illustrate the points of views
based in reality that have been long silenced by the establishment —
values that resonate with the majority of working people, rather than
those of the folks selling it to us. And not just to create or
romanticise these values on behalf of the 'low income' census statistics
— but to empower and create awareness within, and amongst communities —
of the effectiveness of class consciousness and direct, collective
action towards social change.
—
Increasingly, I'm coming
to realise that to do this, images are not enough. Like individual acts
of dissidence — on their own they may educate, encourage or enrage — but
unless they are linked with some aspect of wider struggle, they become
obsolete.
So, the direction a socially concerned design
practitioner could take becomes two-fold — cultural production that
questions the dominant values and constructions of today, which in doing
so, explores alternate possibilities — without alienating people and
without their ideas becoming watered down in the process. Also, a
practice that could deconstruct the privilege of the individual 'artist'
while grounding their work in the realities of everyday life — in our
communities and in the workplace. Whether this takes form as a
co-operative print shop, art and screenprint workshops, community art or
poster projects, or something else entirely — is something that I feel
really excited (and challenged) to explore.
Thankfully, these
ideas are not located in a void. Print collectives such as the Justseeds
Visual Resistance Artists' Co-Operative, designers and websites such as
those found in the Groundswell Collective, various exhibitions and
community projects such as the Peoples History Project, Street Art
Workers, and Paper Politics, as well as designers and artists (both home
and abroad) — all are beginning to counter the webs of hegemony and
control with their own communal and egalitarian forms of artistic
solidarity — between practitioners and people, between creativity and
community.
Alternatives to the mainstream conception of art and design do exist. It's just a matter of creating them ourselves.
