One of my jobs is at a certain shop in the heart of downtown Boone. I won’t give the name of it, but the place is guilty of selling the most horrendous, frou-frou, useless crap I’ve ever seen. I’ve been forced to sell countless “handpainted” signs blathering on about jokes that weren’t funny when they were on bumper stickers 10 years ago. I’ve had to sell furry cowboy boots with cow spots on them. Boots that would, someday, be attached to somebody’s feet! I’ve sold more rooster related paraphernalia than I care to remember. Not to mention, these.
Look at that! Who in their right mind would look and that and say “Hey, that’s amazing! I want that in my home!” Damn you, Avon, for unleashing this design abortion on the world.
Whenever I have to bite my tongue and sell somebody one of these monstrosities, something inside me screams, “Why are you wasting money on this?” It makes me feel a certain gravitas about my craft. I feel like it is my duty to help eradicate horrific, Kincade-esque illustrations of fuzzy animals, to banish them into the mists of time and obscurity.
This brings me to a very important point: Design is just as much about education as it is aesthetic beauty and effective communication. As designers, we need to explain to our clients the beauty of activated space, well-proportioned typefaces (and why people should never, ever stretch or shrink them,) and economy of imagery. We need to teach people about the rules, and when the rules can be broken. Perhaps one day, amidst singing dewdrop rainbows and prancing unicorns, the populace will unite and reject these warm, fuzzy, illustrative farts. Perhaps, in an orgiastic spree, we will one day smash these damnable collectible plates, these accursed miniature anthropomorphic cow figurines, and these nauseating yet adorably primitive paintings of country cottages. One can only hope.
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