achtung!
ERIK SPIEKERMANN
Cut the meaningless
phrases of praise
and superlatives
that are invariably
nonsense, or it’s
back to through the
window with you...
Imprecise language is the
expression of an imprecise
mind. So my mother always
said, and mothers tend to know
these things. The word itself is
more precise than its frequently
used synonym, unprecise,
which is a weird mix of Latin
(praecisio, a cutting off) and
proto-Germanic
Whenever
the headlines announce ‘the
best movies (songs/actors/
goals cars) of all time’, I know
what they are trying to say, but
our time isn’t up yet and there
will be other good movies,
et cetera. How can one call
something ‘the most expensive
transfer of all time’ or the ‘most
sold car ever’, when we know
that there will never be an end
to unbelievable (incredible?)
transfer prices and that the
price of cars will keep going
up? I know I’m being over
Teutonic here and we all know
that these exaggerations are
only thoughtless, stereotypical
expressions (by the way: aren’t
those two ‘g’s in ‘exaggeration’
totally and unnecessarily,
ahem, exaggerated?), but
the over-use of adjectives,
especially when it comes to
superlatives, will eventually
make all of them redundant
Erik Spiekermann set up
MetaDesign and FontShop,
and worked in London
from 1973 to 1981.
A teacher, author and
designer, he is a partner
at
EdenSpiekermann,
which has offices in Berlin
and Amsterdam
We should treat language
like fractions. Nobody says
‘two halves’ or ‘four quarters’
(unless they are talking about
sports) when speaking about
one whole thing. So why say
‘… the well-known, award
winning artist…’? If the artist is,
indeed, well-known, there is
no need to mention that wellknown fact. And the reader
would then know what sort of
award they have won. It means
nothing unless there is some
proof attached. What awards
did they win? Best halloween
costume at primary school?
The Nobel Prize? Just look at
any architect’s or designer’s
website or brochure: not only
are they all award-winning, but
they also always work in close
cooperation with their clients
to maximise benefi t not only
for their businesses but also
for the environment while
emphasising a responsible
use of resources because
they want to leave a better
world behind for our children’s
children. Most of that self
praise could be cut to about
two lines, the remainder of the
wordage then going to feed
a bullshit generator, which
is the closest thing mankind
will ever have to a perpetuum
mobile, feeding itself, as it
does, with redundant words.
Whenever I hear a client say
that they provide a dynamic
work environment for their
employees to grow in while
working closely with their
customers to make this a
better world, et cetera, I get
an urge to reintroduce the
old tradition of defenestration
– that is, throwing people
from windows. (It wasn’t
necessarily fatal because
buildings weren’t as tall as
present-day Shards et al, but it
was certainly spectacular and
memorable. More so for those
on the receiving end, but it
also never failed to make an
impression on those below.)
Once the PR people have run
out of words like awardwinning,
well-known
or
celebrated, they have only one
level left: ‘legendary’. That,
however, not only describes
someone as a known quantity,
but also implies unreal, as in
never really having existed. It
isn’t sheer modesty that has
me cringing when I read – or
hear – this about me (I am 65,
by the way), but that it is pretty
impossible to live up to such a
superlative. Unless you die, of
course. Only a dead designer
can become the best designer
ever.
MARBLE STAIRWAY
TAKES A BOW
Artist-designer Humphrey’s serpentine
Final Encore, a 4.1m-high public staircase
in London’s St James Theatre, may weigh
only 25 tonnes, but it was carved from
a 200-tonne block of Tuscan Carrara
marble, the same material Michelangelo
used for his David statue. (The left-over
marble did fi nd other uses!) Humphrey’s
portfolio ranges from utensils to
powerboats, and includes a 4m-high
Christmas tree in Perspex for Mayfair’s
Grosvenor House. Humphr