Print is not dead (but it is buried)
We’re foragers, collectors. After a year inside, interacting with physical objects reminds us we’re real, not just a box on a Zoom screen
‘Print is not dead’ is a phrase often shared in the editorial community, a message of encouragement and solidarity with our fellow inky peers.
The invention of the printing press by Johannes Gutenberg in the 1400s was a second Big Bang for humanity, a crucial landmark for the dissemination of knowledge. Without print, our society would never have changed as drastically or as quickly as it has. Only the internet marks a comparable moment in the world’s development.
When I completed my graphic design degree this summer, I left with a specialisation in editorial and publishing, a title that reflected my love and expertise in all things narrative, wordy and — almost inevitably — printed. Up until March 2020, I’d had the opportunity to see my projects as I’d envisioned them, folded pages and posters on tactile paper stock, the vibrant colours like the feathers of a glorious bird. Once lockdown hit, my degree moved online. Gone were the trips to the printers to watch my latest creation puff out of the machine on a roll as big as me. Gone, the deliberations over paper weights and finishes, cuts and colours. Designs were confined to screens, trapped in mock-ups, out of reach.
Highlighting this distinction was my choice of final major project, the editorial accompaniment to an exhibition concept. I aimed to explore Pluto, cultivating an emotive public perception experienced by the likes of Mars and the moon. But instead of handing in a selection of folding illustrations, quotes and poems, I submitted a ZIP file to the course page. A surreal experience indeed.
Throughout my project, I’d discussed the value of physical design. Students of varying specialisations recognised the importance of its tangibility, information that can be turned over in the hands, be it written or experiential. Since childhood, I’ve collected small pieces of design — magazine clippings, clothing labels, receipts, stickers — their tactility much more engaging than a ‘liked’ image or Pinterest pin. Despite the same sentiments conveyed by both, a handwritten letter seems much more heartful than a text message. Perhaps it’s about the effort involved, perhaps the singularity of it; if there are only so many issues of a printed magazine, ownership feels special.
During my final term, I was lucky enough to have a role in the letterpress workshop on campus, typesetting 10pt Plantin for a PhD student’s project. Along with my colleagues, I laid out narrow booklets of fractured instructions, the twenty prints of each page running the length of the desks like delicate, off-white roof tiles. Not only was it pleasant to see the items as they came off the press, but the act of making them was one to be savoured — the plucking of little lead letters from the trays, their arrangement in gallies, the rumble of the machine as it rolled out another page — it all came together as a stimulating, physical and, sometimes, sweaty act of creation.
When searching for houses to rent during university, my mum fixated on the presence of central heating. “It’s all well and good finding a bright house in the spring, but think about when you restart next year. The nights will be drawing in, it will be cooler. You don’t want a cold house.” Thankfully, I heeded her warnings, as it was a bitter winter and the radiators kept us sane. Yet despite the convenience and relative modernity of the central heating system in comparison to other methods, people are still passionate about open fires and log burners. To me, design is the same thing. Yes, there is the freedom and convenience of digital design in the form of apps, websites and the like, but it doesn’t have the same atmosphere as sitting down with a magazine and leafing through the pages.
That’s another thing — time. It’s easy to scroll through things on screen, to skip songs and videos in search of the next high. Printed designs force us to slow down and engage with the thing in our hands. It can even encourage us to like it more. How many albums have we whizzed through on Spotify, getting a few seconds in before it’s time to skip? Had we bought those albums in vinyl, or even CD form, we’d be much more likely to invest effort into enjoying the content to get our money’s worth. We have the chance to admire the album art and flick through the lyrics, to think about the musicians’ intentions. In essence, engaging with a physical album is an involved experience in its own right, as opposed to mere backing music.
Of course, it’s impossible to ignore the topic of sustainability. Printing reams of daily papers and stacking piles CDs seems a wasteful use of resources if the content is available online. Striking a balance is key. Using recycled materials and passing on items we no longer use is an important step towards a conscientious loop of consumption. I’m not saying give last week’s newspaper to a neighbour when you’re done with it (even if they do seem behind the times), I’m talking about passing on books, music, boardgames, posters and all other physical designs that just don’t have the same effect on a digital level.
The items with which we choose to surround ourselves reflect our personality, our humanity. We’re foragers, collectors. After a year inside, interacting with physical objects reminds us we’re real, not just a box on a Zoom screen.
The development of new technology is blurring the line between digital and print design. Posters have QR codes that spark interactions with augmented reality, while museums have downloadable content to print at home. Each medium can inspire innovations in the other. Having studied the discipline in such depth, I’m curious to see how editorial design will change and evolve in the coming years. So rather than burying print as a format of bygone days, we should use it to further develop our understanding of design in the physical and digital space. But sometimes, it’s just the tactility of print that matters. You’re not telling me you’d prefer a band t-shirt as an app? Or perhaps you would…
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