CD Studio III: Lower 9 & 10

This new project that we are working is based on a special edition from the podcast, This American Life, that covers interviews with the residents of the Lower 9th Ward in New Orleans after the 10th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. (https://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/565/lower-9-10)

10.25.16 | Let’s Tell a Story

We each picked up an artifact from a myriad of choices that Kristin laid out on the table — all seemingly old, obscure antiques found in a long-abandoned place. I chose a miniature porcelain jug that has the words “home, sweet, home” imprinted on it. Below is the story I came up with during out brainstorming.

“Home, sweet home.”

These words echoed through the corridors of the empty house that once belonged to the late Dolly McLaren.

Her house lay in shambles today, having been destroyed by the 7.2 magnitude earthquake that brought her town to ruins. The debris is hardly recognizable — legs of furniture, pieces of fabric from what used to be beautiful, shimmering velvet curtains — except one object that remains whole.

“Home, sweet home,” it sighs.

It’s a jug. A miniature one, to be precise. At first touch, the ceramic brings a sense of piercing coldness, not entirely welcoming. But upon closer examination, the specks of dust it’s picked up over the years elicit a sense of solemn empathy for the small, helpless object, so much that the sensation is almost warm. It’s easy to identify the imperfect curves on its form, the slip of the hand in its very human creation, and the dents resulted from the human touch.

The stains on its body also tell another story, silently screaming — who used this little jug? who did it belong to? when and how has it been used? why…when would anyone find use for such a thing, at this laughable scale? But these questions hang in the air, unanswered. Perhaps the answers we’re searching for lie somewhere beneath all the rubble, somewhere far away in space and in time.
Perhaps the jug belonged to a small child; or perhaps, a grandmother’s past time. But whatever world this jug belonged to, it is no longer relevant. Now, it simply stands tall above all that’s been destroyed, in its own proud, impeccable state. It is a diamond in the rough, full of dignity, refusing to be forgotten, but destined to be abandoned by time.

The small jug stands amongst debris, fading.

“Home, sweet home,” it whispers.

“Home, sweet home.”

10.36.16 | Project Proposal

Here’s an outline of my thoughts so far, and the direction I see my project moving in. There are still many, many details I still need to hash out, but it’s a start.

Initial Thoughts
At first, the project came off as quite daunting because I knew nothing about Katrina (especially compared to my American classmates, I felt extremely lacking in this area of knowledge), but perhaps that will provide me with a certain advantage. Since I’m reacting to the piece very singularly, solely to the content and materials that we were provided with, I am dealing with a lot less information than many of my classmates. I almost feel like I’m looking at the content with a lot more clarity.

Theme Development
For this project, I intend on exploring the irreversibility of damage, particularly with water. I want to use ink and water on paper as a metaphor for the destruction caused by Hurricane Katrina, that there’s no way to return the city (or in my case, paper) back to its original state no matter how much repair is being done. The concept is still very much subject to change, and there are still many details I need to hash out, but I’m pretty excited about the direction that I’m going in.

Goals
I want to create a visceral experience that allows the piece to tell the story by itself. To me, this project feels very much like a cultural probe — an artifact that we put together not to assert a particular statement, but rather purely to assemble a set of pieces of evidence that help tell a story in its purest, rawest form. It’s hard not to think about this as an art piece; hopefully my exploration with typography will help steer away from that. My current concept is to embody the content in a way that doesn’t add a new perspective — my intent is not to create a piece to persuade, anger, induce pity nor arouse any sort of response, but to inform in the most honest way possible. My intent is to allow the audience to feel if they choose to feel, but not be directed to feel a certain way. It’s actually much harder than it sounds…That means I’ve got to watch out for any signs of bias.

Questions
1. Should I incorporate a digital element into the piece? If so, how?
2. How should I break down the content and start to attribute a voice to each character involved?
3. How should I integrate the interview dialogue?
4. What nature should the design have — is it an intimate piece? Is it objective? Is it distant?

11.1.16 | Notable Quotes

Things I’m brainstorming about including in the work, and highlighting. This is a list of things I’ll be collecting to convey the rawness of the human condition experienced in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina — words spoken directly from people who have been through it and survived.

“It’s always there.”

Some quick thoughts:
I almost want to make an AfterEffects video for the whole thing. Whenever I listen to the interviews, I visualize in my head a very powerful dialogue enhanced by type. Or maybe snippets of it. A time-motion piece, that would carry the voices of the interviewees.

The Lower Ninth + Tenth project makes me want to look into what we learned a while ago in research methods. I don’t want the project to end up too directional, but rather treat it more like a cultural probe.

Inspiration:
Fore-Edge Painting: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_1qOCRhDX08
I want to illustrate that even though the Lower 9th Ward has been destroyed, the fragments still remain, hence revealing the image of the Lower 9th Ward when combining the pages.

11.5.16| Progress

Possibly going in a direction that will help establish my visual identity…

11.8.16 | Collections

I’ve been in a jumble of making, thinking, and processing the content lately. I think it’ll help to listen to the podcast again.

For the content — which I will start laying out the type system for — I’m definitely going to cast different roles for each of the characters. I need to keep in mind the simple rules of typography…Remember that!

On the other hand, I’d been playing around a lot with different book structures. I initially tried out an accordion fold, which I wanted to have 47 pages of (with each artifact on one of the pages), but I couldn’t come up with a good intention for it. I’m still very set on doing a fore-edge painting (which, oof, will be very ambitious), but I also realized that doing two fore-edge paintings might be an overkill and redundant. More work than necessary. Instead…I’ll do a French fold. This way, I’ll be able to maintain a thickness for the book, and bind it in a way that wouldn’t override the content, and also enable a deeper layer of interaction.

The images will have one sentence stories (in very small text), but mainly serve as a metaphor for the persisting but also fading memory (I’m thinking of using transfer medium, or maybe an effect to mimic transfer images). There’s a very delicate balance I need to keep in mind for the type and image. One must not dominate over the other, but they must remain in harmony and complementary. What will be the relationship between them?

“I was always curious what it would be like if someone bound a blank book, with content only at the fore-edge of the book…” — J.D.

11.8 | Notes:

What is the first thing that you want the person that picks up your book to think?

Be careful of overkill. Be intentional.

11.12 | Inspiration:

I wanted to search for a type of paper that would leave imprints upon touch. I remember encountering a type of glossy photo paper that would leave oily fingerprints all over them and you’d have to be really really careful not to leave any marks on them, but Dylan doesn’t seem to recall any paper that has the said quality. Hmm…

Here are two alternative ideas I came up with:

1. Force the audience to get their hands dirty first, before they can open and see the work (charcoal, wax)
2. Bind the book in a way so that the reader would have to pry open the book open to see the content

11.14 | Breaking Down the Content

“Just because something is legible doesn’t mean it’s readable. Legibility means that text can be interpreted, but that’s like saying tree bark is edible. We’re aiming higher. Readability combines the emotional impact of a design (or lack thereof ) with the amount of effort it presumably takes to read. You’ve heard of TL;DR (too long; didn’t read)? Length isn’t the only detractor to reading; poor typography is one too. To paraphrase Stephen Coles, the term readability doesn’t ask simply, “Can you read it?” but “Do you want to read it?”” (Jason Santa Maria, How We Read)

11.16 | Current Spreads — Act I

11.17 | New Plan, New Sketch

Essentially, my new idea is that I will be creating stand-alone booklets for every act (including the prologue). This means I’ll be designing seven books in total…Since the content / theme in each act is different as well, I also intend on treating them quite differently, giving them different voices but also tying them together in a consistent system (through type and grid).

I plan to make a box to enclose the seven booklets to give them “one body,” and also create a fore-edge painting of the map of the Lower 9th Ward (as previously discussed).

Because the book design for this project is mainly focused on experimenting with typography for me — using type to carry out different voices and drawing the audience into the experience — I didn’t want to forcefully add the artifacts into the storytelling. Instead, I’ll be including imagery that I will provide on my own.

Feedback from Dan:

• beware of inner margins and possible compromise of text / imagery
• reconsider Andale Mono for the reporters’ voice — fixed width fonts are difficult to read in large amounts
• break the grid in places seemingly appropriate
• remove underline of speakers’ names…too strong of a horizontal, and reminiscent of web-related affordances

11.22 | Onwards to Acts 2 & 3

I’m planning to treat each act quite differently, meaning that I’ll need to think about the tone of voice I want to carry with each act. For Act 2, there is a shift in emotions throughout, sometimes angry, sometimes comical and chaotic, sometimes sad and mournful.

In places where there are “potholes,” I thought about physically manipulating the paper (cutouts) so that there would quite literally be holes in the paper. I still need to consider more carefully how these different elements would play together and hold together as a consistent piece.