It was only yesterday that I was thinking how two or three months of winter lethargy leave one’s brain feeling a little damp by the time February comes around. It’s hard to find something digestible enough that has the right balance of academia and creativity. Lucky for us then that the eggheads at the Royal Institution have just launched their new video channel site that aggregates all their own vintage video content alongside videos from around the web.

Now I’m a big fan of the Christmas Lecture Series (which the RI produce annually and have done for decades), so the first thing I did when I visited the site was to search for the classic 1970′s versions. I wasn’t disappointed by the results. It was heartwarming to see the horn-rimmed spectacles of George Porter, the flamboyant bow-tie of Bill Coates and the other-worldly gaze of alien ambassador, Carl Sagan in all their fuzzy video glory. This alone is surely a reason to get stuck in here, but alongside the vintage material there is an abundance of contemporary footage and this also other related videos that are drawn in from Vimeo and Youtube – presumably to fill archive gaps in pleasingly efficient way.

What’s particularly interesting for me is that the site was designed by London-based agency Bureau for Visual Affairs. Having worked closely with these guys in the Summer on their re-design of the Imperial War Museum website, I was interested to see how their minimal layout logic and impeccable styling transferred across into the scientific arena. I think it’s worked remarkably well and the resultant interface is sharp and clean with a clear focus given over to the video assets. They have also worked in an honest appreciation of the wider social/sharing aspects of these videos and some rather neat little front-end flourishes that give emphasis where it’s needed too.

The R.I is in some people’s mind a relic of a more formal era, but I think this site highlights their relentlessly progressive outlook and how they have actually always striven dutifully towards connecting the public with scientific discourse. Although the site is still in Beta, I strongly recommend that you head over there and bathe in the high-gloss, galactic thinking of Carl Sagan or perhaps just peruse the ‘Maths‘ category for fun.  Oh, and check out the ‘elements song’ below too… Now you wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?

Click here to view the embedded video.

If you’ve ever heard the blast of a foghorn at the coast you’ll know two things about them. Firstly, they are incredibly loud indeed. Secondly, the cautionary wails they emit make the hair on the back of your neck stand up in a wave of excitement that is nearly impossible to control. The loyal foghorn has warned mariners in foggy conditions for hundreds of years around our coastlines in one form or another (bells in the early days). They are as much part of our coastline heritage as the lighthouse and often they can be found standing sentinel together.

A Scottish Canadian called Robert Foulis was the first chap to come up with the common design that involves releasing a blast of compressed air into a large horn to produce loud low frequency notes. The horns could then be altered using a series of holes or reeds to produce unique harmonics or tones. Sadly, his designs were ‘evolved’ on a grand scale and although he would spend much of his later life involved in design-related patent battles, his basic design is still widely used to this day.

What interests me the most about Foghorns is that it’s not just the engineering of the horn that makes them unique. Their physical location and the architecture of the housing are almost as individual as the sounds they produce. It is as if each one has a personality of it’s own; often bearing signs of the local maritime heritage. Sometimes they are boastful and brash with bright red painted horns and on other occasions they are enigmatic in appearance and hidden away in a grassy bluff as if the horns themselves are rather embarrassed by their own noisiness. Indeed, the now redundant domed-style foghorn on the shores of Ailsa Craig is rather comically shaped like something from the Clangers.

But let’s be honest. As lovely and nostalgic as they are, foghorns aren’t just for looking at. A Foghorn should sound as splendid as it looks. That said, nearly all of them are now sadly shut-down or automated, and although in my book they still feel very viable, these faithful but melancholic guardians of the coast have steadily been superseded by modern navigational aids.

Perhaps you’d like to hear some? I have collected a few short audio clips over the past few days and put them together for you to get an idea of the range of tones that have now nearly all fallen silent. There’s the ultra eerie electric foghorn and my own personal favourite:  the gloriously bovine sounding diaphone foghorn.

By the way, if ever you’re in the Cornwall vicinity, I have it on very good authority that the recently renovated Lizard Point lighthouse and foghorn is worth a visit. If it’s foggy, you might not even need a map.

Susannah Blaxill is a botanical illustrator. She has an extraordinary talent for creating incredibly lucid and rather mouthwatering illustrations of fruit, veg and other species of the plantae kingdom. Originally born in Australia, Susannah relocated to the UK to study Art at the University of East Anglia before becoming a member of the Society of Botanical Artists. As far as I can tell, she moved back to her native Australia but still has strong connections with the society.

Susannah’s work is produced in a mixture of mediums. She utilises charcoal and pencil to great effect, but for me the almost scientific realism of her watercolours is jaw-dropping. These illustrations are so cleverly detailed that when I stare at them I find myself  imagining strange sensations: the springy gloss of a beetroot leaf in my hand, the soft melony smell of a cut butternut squash or the way that seaweed feels underfoot on a beach.

I’m a huge fan of botanical illustration work and whilst studying on my horticulture course last year, I indulged in a rather obsessive passion for buying old field-guides that only featured illustrations for recognition purposes rather than photos. Although helpful, I mainly bought them so I could compare the quality of the illustrations. If I’d have come across Susannah’s work before then, I could have avoided the whole expensive process. Still, the books are rather nice things anyway.

I’m left longing to see some of this work close up and I see that from time to time, Susannah’s work has been shown at Kew gardens in various exhibitions. I will be eagerly awaiting the next one. Until then, we may have to settle for a wander around her online greenhouse.

Midwinter is usually a busy time for folky sorts. But what after that? The solstice has passed, Christmas came and went and hopefully you’ve done all the wassailing that needs doing in a year. For most of us the depressingly ‘empty bit’ between now and when the clocks go forward is usually a time of skint hibernation. However, a newish DVD from the BFI that collates some of the nation’s lost and forgotten festivals, dancing and strange customs will surely keep the folk fires burning – especially if you accompany it with a cheap bottle of red wine and a jacket potato the size of a shoe, like I did.

Here’s a Health to the Barley Mow is a film chronicle that charts the practice of recording folk customs for TV and film across the last century in Britain. All of the films have been selected to underline the fragile way in which local customs are preserved and celebrated. Some are very rare old films. One sequence was carefully edited together from individual images and another showcases the original sound recording from a time when film was predominantly silent. There’s the impressively dangerous Stonehaven Fireballs (a practice which still takes place today) and several versions of the wonderfully complicated ‘Sword and Rapper‘ dances.

The early (and splendidly stuffy) dances from the 1920′s somehow feel genuinely liberating. Perhaps it is the notion that film was a rare and expensive commodity then and whoever captured those images had something to say about how important the preservation of local folk practices is. The films from after the 1950s, begin to take on a vintage BBC stance and flecks of the ‘light documentary’ creep in. Finally, the more recent films show how the important bond between folk customs and the community has been reignited – perhaps something that intertwines with the music scene in Britain from the 1960′s onwards.

But there’s more to it than this. The films serve as an indicator to the incredible richness and diversity of micro culture in the British Isles. They are brilliantly sourced and intelligently presented. The set contains two DVDs and a very informative booklet talking about the customs in the film and background of how the recordings were made. There’s tonnes to see here and the viewing is at times quite emotive.

As a child I was ever so slightly embarrassed by the fact my mum was a morris dancer. Seeing this DVD actually makes me feel glad I was exposed to it first hand. You hear that Mum? I said I like Morris Dancing now!

(Big thanks to Angharad for bringing this one my way!)

Click here to view the embedded video.

Happy new year to you all and may it be a prosperous one. In fact, may it be one that is literally bursting at the seems with unrelenting fortune and glory.

Now before I bounce back into our curious world of curiosities, I wanted to try to make amends for slowing up with the posts this year. It’s been a busy year with getting married, moving house and of course, rebuilding the site. I have at times felt that the blog has suffered a wee bit. So for some closure, please allow me to quickly run through some of the things I missed out on during 2011.

Last year the design community got fat. It literally put on weight and design flab seemed to hang off the Internet’s podgy flanks. So much so that I felt ever so slightly repulsed by the regurgitated nonsense that now seems to clog the once bountiful pages of sites like Ffffound and the Creative Review Blog. But there were some rays of hope that shone through and I can’t pass up on the opportunity to wave a flag for the work of the three chaps who curate the thinking man’s aggregate blog, But Does it Float. During 2011 they put together one of the most consistently inspiring visual blogs on the net. Complete with philosophical titling and huge perpetually-loading images. Rarely does a day pass without a visit for me.

I also loved the nostalgic illustration work of Luciano Luzano. His recent mid-century style children’s book work is reminiscent of the great Miroslav Sasek and full of observant little flourishes that evoke splendidly detailed scenes and curious characters.

Praise be to Jennifer Bass and Pat Kirkham for putting together a well-needed compendium of the work of Saul Bass. Saul Bass: A Life in Film & Design should without doubt have been on your Xmas list. Purchase a copy with great urgency if Santa forgot it. It truly is a definitive study of a perhaps one of the best-known graphic design heavyweights.

Charlie Brooker’s three-part Black Mirror series left me feeling digitally grubby and slightly freaked out, but it was clear that this brilliantly orchestrated series was intended to do so from the start. Just look at the title – a subtle reference the dead screens of our computers, TVs and smart phones. Black Mirror reminded me of the more crueller episodes of The Twilight Zone. All three episodes made a chilling commentary on our increasingly unchecked enslavement to the the digital world. Perhaps the most savage twist to the series is that it was produced for reality TV perverts, Endemol.

Re-brands were abundant in 2011 and most were pretty week to be honest, but I have sincere respect for the inoffensive utilitarian identity that Leeds-based agency,  Thompson created for the National Railway Museum in York. A subtle triumph in my book.

In the listening booth I have been bowled over by the lavish, lo-budget, psychic electronica of Pye-Corner Audio who have worked closely with the Ghost Box records this year to great fruition. The very splendid Black Mill Tapes (vol.1 and vol.2) are available on Bandcamp for very reasonable prices indeed. Think John Carpenter meets Boards of Canada being broadcast from an abandoned lighthouse. Superb stuff.

In the obituaries it was particularly sad for me to see one of the founders of the immortal Cosgrove Hall animation house pass away. Mark Hall leaves behind some of the most well-loved British Children’s television productions that have ever existed. The passion that he put into his work at Cosgrove Hall together with Brian and the team still gladdens my heart today.

Just after Xmas I also took my hat off to the passing of the super-talented illustrator and satirist, Ronald Searle who first came my way through his children’s books and later when I read his humorous book on wine, Something in the cellar. A couple of days before his death, Ronald’s haunting first hand sketches of life in the Japanese POW camps of WW2 strangely caught my eye whilst at work sorting through some archive images. It was only last week I learned of his death.

The final obituary goes to Airside  who sadly announced the closure of the agency after 14 years in the industry. These chaps (along with The Designer’s Republic) had a massive hand in tempting me to become a designer. So best of luck to those lot for the future.

Right. That’s that… We can get back to normal now. Well… Maybe after one more quick nod to the genius of Mark Hall. Rest in peace old lad.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Mr Rob Bailey is a very talented illustrator based in the creative pump-house that is Manchester. I first came across his lovely angular vector work when I saw his entertainingly minimal films on Vimeo. These serenely animated  ‘road movies’ depict the gentle dynamics of different transport methods from above and although not much happens in them, they are curiously attractive, not least for the sense of anticipation that they foster.

I decided to a take a look at Rob’s illustration on his site as it has been popping up online quite frequently recently and I wasn’t surprised to find a swathe of rather thrilling vector waiting for me when I arrived. He has a tremendous skill of creating detailed form and depth with very linear 2D shapes and some excellent use of colour. The effect is stunning and reminiscent of a late 1980′s Tron style game. Rob’s work does follow other design avenues (see this risograph work), but this for me is the winner and it’s begging to be used in a narrative of some form. What a great kid’s story or fairy-tale this style could evoke.

Oh, and that lovely print of the three horses (above) is available from his shop for a very reasonable price. Might make a nice addition to your walls after the Xmas decorations have come down in the New Year.

PS: A merry Xmas and a happy Solstice to you all and may your Winter be a happy, peaceful one… Cold when you want it to be and warm when you don’t.

I thought it would be interesting to follow on from one Jonny Trunk production (Sainsbury’s Own Label book) straight to another with a quick nod to the achingly niche.

My first introduction to this abstract record label was when a friend mentioned that The Wickerman OST had just been re-released on Trunk and that I should grab a copy from the label’s rather curious and slightly perverted online shop. Being a huge fan of the classic pagan- folk journey album I headed over to see what the fuss was about. Within minutes, I was perusing classics such Kenny Graham’s mystery jazz classic, Moondog and Suncat Suites or the inanely addictive Music for Biscuits. This is the best of lost (but blindly loved) British soundtrack, library and archive music, that would probably otherwise have been consigned to shelves of some fly-blown shelving system in Hammersmith. Indeed, the label was propelled by discovering the oldest music library music archive in the world, the Bosworth Library archive – An archive which has (until Trunk found it), been pillaged by many modern artists without accreditation.

It seems that Mr.Trunk can do no wrong at the moment and there really isn’t another vintage label in the UK that consistently sources such collected oddities and nostalgic archive recordings as this. With Xmas approaching, a visit to Trunk’s online shop may unearth a lost treasure that happens to double up as an ideal gift or winter backdrop. Let’s face it, there’s nothing quite like the eerie synth’ safaris of John Baker’s Radiophonic Workshop music whilst wrapping presents.

Supermarkets haven’t always been joyless cathedrals of mindless profit mongering. Oh no… There once was a time when they had to literally prove their worth to an impliable British public. Getting people to give up the routine of buying high-street products with all their brown paper-wrapped honesty in favour of the almost clinical packaging of a modern supermarket was not an easy task.

By the early 1960s many supermarkets had already begun to engineer the product packaging to suit their brand aspirations. Perhaps the most cohesive and astutely executed of the supermarket house-styles came from Sainsbury’s between 1962 and 1977. To tell this story is a new book (finally back in stock!) outlining how the  in-house design team at Sainsbury’s, headed up by Peter Dixon would change the customer perception of ‘own-label’ goods forever.

The book is a curious insight into how the graphic design industry was changing at the time, but more importantly it charts the beginning of an era when popular packaging design took on a contemporary aesthetic and the basic design elements such as typographic treatment or colour application were experimented with heavily. This was a difficult battle for the in-house teams who would clash regularly with over-bearing marketing departments and stubborn senior staff. But the differences in opinion must have forged a productive system somehow, because the visual language they created would eventually establish the reliability of their own products in the public eye.

The designs are beautifully collated in the book and perhaps heartbreakingly to the nostalgics amongst us, it clarifies how today’s supermarket own brand labels are pathetically devoid of consistently interesting design. A terrifying clip-art style illustration is sadly what supermarkets think best represents our tastes these days. Unless, of course, you buy the ‘finest’ range or the one that has patronisingly been ‘chosen for you’ where a grotesquely manipulated photo and a celebrity chef signature awaits your hungry eyes. Compare that to the minimalist genius of the brown ale cans pictured above, which charmingly mimic a dimpled pint glass complete with a head of froth.

As an in-house designer myself, I sympathises with Peter Dixon’s struggle to establish a coherent graphic style and convince those around him that they should trust his ideas over theirs. This book reassured me that design can also be an education – All it needs is a little loyalty and some intelligent thinking.

Grab yourself a copy over the Xmas period and maybe compare your festive pudding wrapper to the one in the book. It’ll make you think a bit.

I did promise. So here it is, the great Colourschool print giveaway part two. The second poster print that I am giving away for free is part of a recent series of work I have been working on that focuses on Britain’s maritime history and the influence it has had on our popular culture.

Whilst reading a 1960’s guide to seaside destinations, I was particularly enamoured to read about Swanage’s connection to the national diving industry and the way its Victorian railway has served as a steady but consistent connection for visitors to the sheltered bay. I was working with this in mind when I put the poster together and it coupled nicely with the vintage travel poster style of the 1930’s, of which I’m very fond of. A good time to visit the town is September, when the folk festival is on, but if like me, you prefer seaside towns out of season, then you won’t be disappointed at any other time. Unless spirits of the English Channel decide to be mischievous with the weather.

I have only a limited amount of these, so unfortunately I can only offer one for the giveaway. The print is finished in gloss on heavy (210gsm) paper and is sized standard A2 in dimensions. I’ll post it to the first person that says they want it. If you got one of the last posters in the last giveaway, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until I reprint these ones.

Lot’s of people don’t really enjoy sci-fi films. I have actually seen people wince at the idea of watching anything with the word ‘Star’ in its title. Perhaps it is the way in which these films are executed that puts some people off. Perhaps it is the sheer incomprehension of the fantastical themes and in some ways I concur with this sentiment  – especially when you consider some of the dirge that gets through the net. But when a film like Moon came out, it’s hard to turn a blind-eye to the accomplished styling.

I actually went to see Moon at the cinema in the Summer of 2009 after physically rewinding my steps in the street to admire the splendid poster and have since purchased a copy on DVD for posterity. Here’s a great link to a blog post on Mubi.com about the genesis of the rather beautiful movie poster graphics for Moon and how it makes reference to an early Polish version of the Solaris poster.

The whole film has been so impeccably styled and directed that it is hard to place its production date. I’m sure this was intentional as the gorgeously simple costumes, models and vintage set design draw heavily on references from a plethora of classic 1970s space films. Moon forges its own identity whilst paying homage to its sci-fi styling roots in the form of classic visual cues. Isolation and space boredom is heightened by the classically utilitarian moon-base interior. There are also plenty of thoughtful details which give this film its credibility such as the dusty, well-used equipment and the tiny post-it notes, personal effects and knick-knacks lying around the living quarters. Great pains were taken by the production team (who were on a relatively tiny budget) to create a consistently believable environment. The outcome is a ‘future’, which is already ‘old’ – a well referenced trick that is well executed in films like Blade Runner and Alien.

Another thing that impressed me with Moon was the insistence on using models for external shots. It’s an old argument, but for a film that is so visceral and minimal it seems to perfectly compliment the visual appeal and adds a textural quality that gives some sci-fi films a certain tangible realism that the modeled lighting of CGI can never truly replicate.

If you haven’t seen Moon and fancy a watch, it makes an excellent late-night film before turning into stasis for the night. Look out for the brilliantly edited ping-pong match between Sam and himself and the suggestive emoticon expressions of GERTY.