Categories
the trials and tribulations of a masters student
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- Zarina (1999) Home is a Foreign place [Portfolio of 36 woodcuts]. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Available at: https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/499720 (Accessed: 30 April 2025)
Zarina’s Home Is a Foreign Place is a series of 36 woodcut prints combining minimalist visuals with Urdu words to evoke memory, displacement, and belonging. Drawing on her personal history and global movements, the series weaves cultural, linguistic, and material references into a poignant meditation on home and identity. This selection of woodcuts inspired me to consider how graphic shapes can relate and represent feelings of displacement and of longing towards a home that never was, emphasizing that abstraction and simplicity can carry profound meaning. Her representations inspired my choice in my iterations to apply graphic romanian-inspired symbols to the original prints to create the layered effects.
2. Space One Eleven (2015) Negotiated Identities/Saints and Tears [Exhibition]. Birmingham, AL: Space One Eleven. Available at: https://spaceoneeleven.org/exhibition-archive/negotiated-identities-saints-and-tears/ (Accessed: 1 May 2025).
Negotiated Identities/Saints and Tears is a 2015 international group exhibition held at Space One Eleven in Birmingham, Alabama, featuring artists from the American Deep South and Romania. The exhibition explores how personal and collective identities are shaped by political histories, cultural memory, and religious symbolism. Romanian artists, navigating post-communist realities, and American artists from the Deep South, confronting their own socio-political landscapes, engage in a visual dialogue. Through collaborative works, the exhibition delves into themes of autonomy, privacy, and the enduring impact of authoritarian regimes, highlighting the universal quest for self-definition amid complex historical contexts. Within this exhibition I was struck by the work of Karen Graffeo who’s use of graphic symbols overlaid on old romanian imagery inspired my subsequent iterations in this project.
3. Benjamin, W. (1969) ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction’, in Illuminations. New York: Schocken Books, pp. 1–26. (First published in 1935).
The painter maintains in his work a natural distance from reality, the cameraman penetrates deeply into its web.
In The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, Walter Benjamin argues that mass reproduction technologies, like photography and film, strip art of its “aura”—its uniqueness and presence in time and space. This shift transforms how art is experienced, detaching it from tradition and ritual. While reproduction democratizes access, it also opens art to political manipulation. Benjamin explores how these changes reflect broader shifts in perception, politics, and cultural production. While this choice approaches more broader subject matter, I still found it fundamental in guiding my reflection upon the medium I have chosen. While not entirely political, my piece relies on the handmade aspect of it’s production to reflect and represent my feelings.
4.Laranjo, F. (2015) ‘Critical Graphic Design: Critical of What?’, Modes of Criticism, 1 January. Available at: https://modesofcriticism.org/critical-graphic-design/ (Accessed: 24 May 2025).
A talk, song, scarf, flag, web meme, website, installation or publication may all be valid ways to pose a critique
The essay Critical Graphic Design from Modes of Criticism challenges my understanding of how personal experiences can be represented through design by questioning the neutrality and function of graphic design itself. It argues that design is never apolitical—that it always communicates values, ideologies, and power structures, whether intentionally or not. This perspective pushes me to think more critically about how I frame my own life experiences. It’s not just about telling a story visually, but about examining what assumptions or norms my design choices reinforce or resist. Rather than aiming solely for aesthetic appeal or clarity, this essay encourages me to consider how my work can engage with broader cultural, social, or political contexts. It opens up space for more self-aware, reflexive design practices that don’t just represent life, but question how and why it’s being represented.
5. Fowler, R. (2024) Boarding All Rows [Linoleum and Woodblock Prints]. Unknown. Available at: https://www.boardingallrows.com/blog/new-series-of-linoleum-and-woodblock-prints-2024 (Accessed: 1 May 2025).
Fowler does not provide a detailed explanation for the pieces created; rather, they serve as an exercise in lino printing. The work is particularly notable for its blend of lino and woodblock printing, combined with the use of different coloured inks. It is an experiment in layering ink, creating a visual effect reminiscent of decoupage. This approach inspired my own work, giving me the idea to layer symbols over my initial designs. While I originally intended to replicate the feeling of these overlaid, somewhat chaotic images, I realized that such complexity could make the compositions too busy and difficult to keep fast and light-footed, which was essential for my 100 iterations.
6. Ford, L. O. (2011) Savage Messiah. London: Verso Books.
Savage Messiah by Laura Oldfield Ford is a zine-style, psychogeographic exploration of post-industrial London. Blending collage, drawing, and text, the work captures the emotional residue of urban decay, gentrification, and working-class displacement. It documents forgotten spaces and resistances, channeling punk aesthetics and radical politics. Through layered visuals and fragmented narratives, Ford evokes both rage and nostalgia, offering a haunting portrait of a city transformed by neoliberalism and erased histories. Inspired by Ford’s expression of individuality, I wanted to also use text and words at points to establish my feelings in regards to my identity. The layering of her images solidified my desire to add the collage style spin towards my second rounds of iterations.
7. Knisley, L (2007) French Milk. Epigraph Publishing
Lucy Knisley’s French Milk enhances my understanding of how personal experiences can be meaningfully represented to an audience through a balance of intimacy and relatability. Her use of hand-drawn illustrations alongside journal-style writing creates an accessible and emotionally resonant narrative that doesn’t rely on dramatic events but rather on the details of everyday life—meals, conversations, passing thoughts. This approach challenges the idea that personal stories must be exceptional to be shared. Instead, Knisley demonstrates that authenticity and specificity can invite others into your world. For my own work, French Milk encourages me to trust the value of my ordinary experiences and to consider how visual elements, tone, and structure can shape the way an audience connects with my story.
8. Tamaki, M. and Tamaki, J. (2008) Skim. Groundwood Books
Skim by Mariko Tamaki and Jillian Tamaki deepens my understanding of how complex, layered emotions can be conveyed through the interplay of text and image. The graphic novel captures adolescence in a way that feels both intensely personal and broadly relatable, using visual silence, body language, and sparse dialogue to express what isn’t easily said. This challenges me to think beyond literal storytelling when representing my own life experiences. Skim shows that ambiguity, mood, and fragmented moments can be just as powerful—if not more so—than a straightforward narrative. It encourages me to embrace uncertainty and emotional nuance, and to consider how visual storytelling can communicate what words alone often can’t. It’s a reminder that not everything needs to be explained to be understood.
9. Brătescu, G. (1971) The Working Desk. Geta Brătescu, Bucharest
Geta Brătescu’s The Working Desk enhances my understanding of representing life experiences by highlighting the creative process itself as a form of autobiography. Rather than presenting a polished narrative, Brătescu documents her workspace and the rhythms of her daily practice, turning the act of making into a reflection of self. This challenges the idea that personal storytelling must always result in a finished product. Instead, she positions the everyday—scraps, gestures, routines—as central to self-representation. Her work encourages me to see value in process, imperfection, and repetition as expressive tools. It opens up the possibility of sharing my experiences not only through what I say or show, but through how I work and what I choose to keep visible in that process.
10. Ahmed, S. (2017) Living a Feminist Life. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
In making feminism a life question, we will be judged as judgmental.
The introduction to Living a Feminist Life by Sara Ahmed enhances my understanding of representing life experiences by validating personal narrative as a form of critical knowledge. Ahmed emphasizes that lived experience—especially the experiences of those navigating systems of oppression—is not separate from theory, but a way of doing theory. This challenges the traditional separation between the personal and the intellectual, reinforcing that telling my story is not just self-expression, but also a political and theoretical act. Her concept of the “feminist killjoy” resonates deeply, encouraging me to embrace discomfort, contradiction, and resistance in how I represent myself. Rather than smoothing over complexity for the sake of clarity or likability, Ahmed gives me permission to center friction and vulnerability. This perspective invites me to see my project not just as a personal account, but as part of a broader feminist practice of making visible what is often ignored or dismissed. It empowers me to resist dominant narratives of coherence and productivity, and to trust in the critical potential of my own lived, felt, and embodied experiences.
11. McLuhan, M. and Fiore, Q., 1967. The medium is the massage: an inventory of effects [PDF]. New York: Bantam Books. Available at: https://archive.org/details/pdfy-vNiFct6b-L5ucJEa (Accessed: 25 May 2025)
Reference one
Marshall McLuhan’s The Medium is the Massage (1967), produced in collaboration with graphic designer Quentin Fiore, presents the provocative idea that the medium through which information is conveyed is more influential than the content itself. This foundational media theory posits that technological mediums shape human experience and perception, fundamentally altering how individuals understand themselves and the world. Rather than focusing on what a message says, McLuhan urges us to look at the structure and delivery system of the message—how it “massages” our senses and perceptions.
This idea is not only stated in the text but embodied in the book’s design, which becomes an essential part of its argument. Rather than presenting a conventional, linear narrative, The Medium is the Massage is an experimental collage of typography, photography, layout disruptions, and visual juxtapositions. The typography often breaks with tradition—sometimes exploding across pages, other times minimized or curved, demanding that the reader interact with the text in a new way. The images often clash or contrast with the words on the page, creating a dissonance that forces the reader to make connections rather than passively absorb information. These design strategies perform McLuhan’s message: the book itself is a medium that reshapes the reader’s sensory experience.
In terms of communication and graphic design, The Medium is the Massage radically redefines the designer’s role—not simply as a transmitter of content, but as a co-creator of meaning. This work challenges my previous understanding of graphic design as primarily about clarity, order, and aesthetics. Instead, McLuhan and Fiore present design as an active force that constructs reality and perception. Their book rejects the idea that form should be subordinate to function; rather, it shows how form is function when the aim is to awaken audiences to the invisible influence of media.
This insight has significant implications for my own area of interest: representing life experiences to an audience. Before encountering The Medium is the Massage, I often thought about representation in terms of storytelling—what I want to say, what parts of my life feel meaningful or compelling. McLuhan shifts the focus: how I choose to present these stories (the media I use, the structure, the aesthetic choices) might have a greater impact on how audiences engage with and understand them than the stories themselves.
For example, if I’m creating a visual memoir or zine, The Medium is the Massage suggests that the format—folds, pacing, image/text relations, paper quality, and even printing errors—communicates as much as the content. This insight encourages me to think beyond content delivery and towards immersive design strategies. Could the layout of my project mirror the non-linear nature of memory? Could shifts in typography signal emotional or psychological states? Could visual overload or fragmentation be used intentionally to express disorientation or complexity?
Moreover, when considered alongside Skim by Mariko and Jillian Tamaki or French Milk by Lucy Knisley—two personal, illustrated narratives—McLuhan’s ideas amplify the importance of medium specificity. While those works rely heavily on consistent visual language and linear storytelling, The Medium is the Massage explodes the narrative and asks the reader to piece it together. This opens new possibilities for my project: I might, for instance, break from traditional storyboarding and create a patchwork of moments, images, and texts that invite the audience to experience, rather than simply understand, my life events.
Ultimately, McLuhan and Fiore’s work invites me to reconceive my project not just as a story I’m telling but as an environment I’m constructing. If the medium is indeed the message, then I must treat every element—visual, textual, material—not as decoration, but as a tool of expression and transformation. This challenges me to be more intentional, more experimental, and more critical about the ways in which I design my life for others to see.
12. Satrapi, M (2000), Persepolis.
Reference two
Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi is a graphic memoir that explores the impact of the Iranian Revolution and the subsequent Islamic regime through the eyes of a young girl growing up in Tehran. The key ideas presented in the text include the loss of personal freedom under authoritarian rule, the tension between modernity and tradition, and the struggle for identity in the face of political and cultural upheaval. Satrapi presents a deeply personal and political narrative that critiques repression, celebrates resilience, and highlights the complexities of growing up as a woman in a society marked by war, censorship, and resistance. While her story is compelling, it is through her medium that Satrapi found a way to capture her readers within the richly compelling world of her own childhood.In Leigh Gilmore’s essay Witnessing Persepolis: Comics, Trauma, and Childhood Testimony, she identifies a key reason why Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis resonates so powerfully with readers: the central perspective of a child navigating a world shaped by political violence and upheaval. Gilmore writes, “Persepolis aims not only to teach these readers how to think about the Middle East, broadly, and Iran specifically, but also how to feel. Satrapi’s use of comics is part of this affective strategy, as is her choice of an autobiographical child/adolescent protagonist, whose direct witnessing of adult violence encourages sympathetic readings” (Gilmore, 2011, pp. 157–170). In presenting the Iranian Revolution through the eyes of a young girl, Satrapi invites the reader to encounter the events with a sense of immediacy and emotional vulnerability. The child protagonist, Marji, does not yet possess the filters or political frameworks of an adult; instead, she processes events in a raw, affective manner that mirrors the confusion, fear, and resilience that can characterize a child’s response to trauma.
This choice of narrative voice establishes a crucial bond between the reader and Marji, one built on identification and empathy. As Marji witnesses scenes of injustice, brutality, and loss, the reader too becomes a witness—not in the traditional, detached sense, but through an effective proximity fostered by the graphic novel’s form. The visual medium of comics allows Satrapi to render emotional expression and symbolic imagery with an immediacy that words alone might not achieve. The stark black-and-white illustrations, for instance, underscore the moral and emotional binaries that often shape a child’s understanding of complex realities. These artistic and narrative strategies combine to create a compelling form of testimony, one that does not simply present historical facts but seeks to transmit the emotional truths of lived experience.
Persepolis challenges my existing understanding of graphic and communication design by revealing the medium’s potential to communicate complex emotional and political narratives in ways that go beyond traditional aesthetics or functionality. Previously, I viewed graphic design primarily as a tool for visual clarity, branding, or persuasive messaging—often tied to commercial or informational purposes. However, Marjane Satrapi’s use of the comic form to depict personal and historical trauma repositions design as a medium for testimony and empathy. The black-and-white illustrations, simple yet powerful, show how restraint in visual style can deepen emotional impact rather than limit it. Moreover, the combination of image and text allows for layers of meaning to unfold simultaneously, encouraging reflection rather than immediate comprehension. This challenges the idea that effective communication must be immediate or polished; instead, Persepolis demonstrates that ambiguity, subjectivity, and emotional resonance are equally valuable tools in a designer’s toolkit. It pushes the boundaries of what communication design can be—less about selling or simplifying, and more about witnessing, provoking, and connecting across cultural and emotional distances.
Text was reworded at points and gramatically corrected through AI
Gilmore, L. (2011) ‘Witnessing Persepolis: Comics, Trauma, and Childhood Testimony’, in Chaney, M.A. (ed.) Graphic Subjects: Critical Essays on Autobiography and Graphic Novels. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, pp. 157–170.
Sirlin, D. (2019) ‘Geta Brătescu – Drawing Stories of Forms’, IdeelArt, 1 March. Available at: https://ideelart.com/blogs/magazine/geta-bratescu-drawing-stories-of-forms-1 (Accessed: 23 May 2025).
Ashby, C. (2019) ‘Geta Brătescu review – the woman who made lines dance’, The Guardian, 26 February. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2019/feb/26/geta-bratescu-review-the-woman-who-made-lines-dance (Accessed: 23 May 2025).
Harrington, E. (2016) ‘Review: Skim by Mariko Tamaki and Jillian Tamaki’, Disability in Kidlit, 4 November. Available at: https://disabilityinkidlit.com/2016/11/04/review-skim-by-mariko-tamaki-and-jillian-tamaki/ (Accessed: 22 May 2025).
For my Position through contextualising I first developed the sources I wanted to reference, this work was Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis (2000). An autobiographical novel that covers the authors experiences as a child at the begining of Iran’s revolution.
Inspired by her work and my own previous approach to my romanian identity, I dwelved into creating my own comics, covering glimpses into my own experiences as a Romanian immigrant lving in London. These experiences cover feelings of alienation and microaggresion experienced by me in the last five years.
Using my own styleI approached comic making in a slight untraditional approach as my comic does not follow typical comic layouts. I also created a few more sketched layouts of this translation.
My peers feedback was that, while this work was interesting, they wanted me to attempt to push past just creating work that is a comic and perhaps considering changing the medium or output.
Taking this into account I decided to create a piece of work that was more reflrective of my feelings and more autobiographical and present it in the form of a zine.
This was a hard iteration for me, as it pushed me to lightly expose experiences that soured my first few years of living here. WHile it felt like a slight surface level approach to this subject, to me this was a nerve wrecking presentation as everyone individually read through what I felt.
The feedback for this session once more was pointing me in a diffrent direction, this time questioning whether I should return to my original inquiry of my own identity as a Romanian in the UK. To my relief I was excited to return to a safe distance from exposing deeply personal experiences.
In my next attempt I turned towards reading a bit more on scholars perception of Persepolis and the reason it is such an impactful piece of media. SOmething that seemed to stand out to me was the fact that Persepolis used the childhood aspect as a tool of relating to the audience, something I took as inspiration in my next few posters.
For these iterations I tried to develop a few posters that did not rely on words and instead represented elements of my life. These are created with the intention of sparking questions and conversations within the viewer.
- Zarina (1999) Home is a Foreign place [Portfolio of 36 woodcuts]. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Available at: https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/499720 (Accessed: 30 April 2025)
Zarina’s Home Is a Foreign Place is a series of 36 woodcut prints combining minimalist visuals with Urdu words to evoke memory, displacement, and belonging. Drawing on her personal history and global movements, the series weaves cultural, linguistic, and material references into a poignant meditation on home and identity. This selection of woodcuts inspired me to consider how graphic shapes can relate and represent feelings of displacement and of longing towards a home that never was, emphasizing that abstraction and simplicity can carry profound meaning. Her representations inspired my choice in my iterations to apply graphic romanian-inspired symbols to the original prints to create the layered effects.
2. Space One Eleven (2015) Negotiated Identities/Saints and Tears [Exhibition]. Birmingham, AL: Space One Eleven. Available at: https://spaceoneeleven.org/exhibition-archive/negotiated-identities-saints-and-tears/ (Accessed: 1 May 2025).
Negotiated Identities/Saints and Tears is a 2015 international group exhibition held at Space One Eleven in Birmingham, Alabama, featuring artists from the American Deep South and Romania. The exhibition explores how personal and collective identities are shaped by political histories, cultural memory, and religious symbolism. Romanian artists, navigating post-communist realities, and American artists from the Deep South, confronting their own socio-political landscapes, engage in a visual dialogue. Through collaborative works, the exhibition delves into themes of autonomy, privacy, and the enduring impact of authoritarian regimes, highlighting the universal quest for self-definition amid complex historical contexts. Within this exhibition I was struck by the work of Karen Graffeo who’s use of graphic symbols overlaid on old romanian imagery inspired my subsequent iterations in this project.
3. Benjamin, W. (1969) ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction’, in Illuminations. New York: Schocken Books, pp. 1–26. (First published in 1935).
The painter maintains in his work a natural distance from reality, the cameraman penetrates deeply into its web.
In The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, Walter Benjamin argues that mass reproduction technologies, like photography and film, strip art of its “aura”—its uniqueness and presence in time and space. This shift transforms how art is experienced, detaching it from tradition and ritual. While reproduction democratizes access, it also opens art to political manipulation. Benjamin explores how these changes reflect broader shifts in perception, politics, and cultural production. While this choice approaches more broader subject matter, I still found it fundamental in guiding my reflection upon the medium I have chosen. While not entirely political, my piece relies on the handmade aspect of it’s production to reflect and represent my feelings.
4. McLuhan, M. and Fiore, Q., 1967. The medium is the massage: an inventory of effects [PDF]. New York: Bantam Books. Available at: https://archive.org/details/pdfy-vNiFct6b-L5ucJEa (Accessed: 1 May 2025)
The youth of today are not permitted to approach the traditional heritage of mankind through the door of technological awareness.
The Medium is the Massage by Marshall McLuhan and Quentin Fiore explores how media shapes human perception and society. Through a mix of text and visuals, it argues that the medium through which a message is conveyed is more influential than the content itself. McLuhan shows how technologies like print, television, and electronic media reconfigure our senses, behaviors, and environments, ultimately reshaping culture and identity in profound, often unnoticed ways. My own perception of this work is ephemeral, oftentimes I get lost in the language, but I find it inspirational in the way it aims to shape and explain the concept of media and how it influences today’s society. This book reflects on my own thought process of developing this project.
5. Fowler, R. (2024) Boarding All Rows [Linoleum and Woodblock Prints]. Unknown. Available at: https://www.boardingallrows.com/blog/new-series-of-linoleum-and-woodblock-prints-2024 (Accessed: 1 May 2025).
Fowler does not provide a detailed explanation for the pieces created; rather, they serve as an exercise in lino printing. The work is particularly notable for its blend of lino and woodblock printing, combined with the use of different coloured inks. It is an experiment in layering ink, creating a visual effect reminiscent of decoupage. This approach inspired my own work, giving me the idea to layer symbols over my initial designs. While I originally intended to replicate the feeling of these overlaid, somewhat chaotic images, I realized that such complexity could make the compositions too busy and difficult to keep fast and light-footed, which was essential for my 100 iterations.
6. Ford, L. O. (2011) Savage Messiah. London: Verso Books.
Savage Messiah by Laura Oldfield Ford is a zine-style, psychogeographic exploration of post-industrial London. Blending collage, drawing, and text, the work captures the emotional residue of urban decay, gentrification, and working-class displacement. It documents forgotten spaces and resistances, channeling punk aesthetics and radical politics. Through layered visuals and fragmented narratives, Ford evokes both rage and nostalgia, offering a haunting portrait of a city transformed by neoliberalism and erased histories. Inspired by Ford’s expression of individuality, I wanted to also use text and words at points to establish my feelings in regards to my identity. The layering of her images solidified my desire to add the collage style spin towards my second rounds of iterations.
At its core, my enquiry is straightforward: I seek to understand what this part of my identity—being a Romanian immigrant—truly means to me, and how I can express it visually through a graphic project. I chose lino printing as my method of exploration, as it offered a tactile and expressive medium that felt both accessible and unfamiliar. This process pushed me to reflect inward, which is something I’ve often avoided in my creative practice, either due to my own shyness or due to insecurity in myself. Previously, I focused on representing others, their experiences and stories, often leaving my own identity as a subtle, almost invisible footnote within my work.
Text was reworded at points and grammatically corrected through AI
Week 1
Initially, hearing the brief in the morning made a shiver run down my spine. 100 iterations in a publication format. It seemed daunting as a one week project, through my mind ran all of the ways I could tackle this monumental task. I knew I wantedto continue experimenting and exploring my previous linoprinting project, the physicality and tactile process of it was a pleasant meditative experience I was thrilled to experience again.
Trying to keep my process quick and not overthinking it meant that I had no time to dwell on how this publication wuld be bound, as I ran a high risk of falling into overly complicated bindings. I opted for a coptic bound publication using thin smooth paper, this choice was motivated by my desire to have the iterations presented in an A5 format and weight related thinking.
For printing I opted to use a combination of blockprinting ink and of standard craft stamp inks to overlay on top, this was used with teh intention of having a speedier process in layering.
The result of this week was 100 prints of the same block done in fast succession which was an intentional move as it created unique and incomplete prints, over which I overlayed several designs that very directly lifted or inspired from romanian shirts, paintings and overall just graphic designs with a romanian inspiration.
The inquiry I worked towards was exploring identity and loss of it as an immigrant through linorprinting. A traditional medium depicting my uneasiness with my identity.
Week 2
Once again I found myself unsure how I would attain the number of iterations needed, but confident I could if I put my mind to it. By this point most of my life is packed in boxes in my room in preparation for my move, which limited my ammount of space or supplies to be used. Instead of seeking out fancy experimental paper, I opted to go straightforward, printer paper and blockprint ink.
I decided the variation of the iterations would come through the images the empty space of my stamp framed, the skirt acting as a window. The images were all self representative, places from my life, childhood foods, images from important historical romanian events.
1.
This group project and the subsequent exploration of the way social media, particularly Youtube and its autoplay feature, opened my eyes deepened my understanding on the way disabled individuals are treated and integrated within society. This process highlighted how the structural nature of digital inaccessibility is perpetuated through the current climate. Rather than framing attention deficit and dopamine-seeking as individual failings, our discussions revealed how platform algorithms exploit neurodivergent users, creating engagement loops that disregard access needs.
Autoplay, for example, enforces a rhythm of consumption that disregards agency, making rest or disengagement more difficult, especially for users with executive function challenges. Through this project my team and I were able to expand and shape our understanding of accessibility, not only through design but also through advocating and understanding our peers’ needs. Moving forward, I aim to take this experience as part of my practice and continue to be mindful and take into account accessibility as I continue my work and expand my knowledge.
2.
Harris, T. (2016) ‘How technology hijacks people’s minds’, Medium. Available at: https://medium.com/thrive-global/how-technology-hijacks-peoples-minds-from-a-magician-and-google-s-design-ethicist-56d62ef5edf3df3
In his 2016 article, Tristan Harris explains how tech companies take advantage of psychological vulnerabilities to capture individual’s attention. Using systematic tactics like social validation and variable rewards, these social media platforms manipulate users into maximizing engagement at any cost. Harris advocates for ethical design that puts the user’s well-being over the need for profit. In the context of my project, his article exposes a way in which autoplay is especially designed to dictate participation and erode agency from the user, as it assumes what the user should see next and does not give them time to decide. This enforced continuity mirrors exploitative work rhythms, where relentless momentum overrides individual pacing and consent. Additionally, this algorithmic flow disregards individuals with disabilities or who are neurodivergent, as they may be more vulnerable to seeking entertainment or being confined to a sedentary lifestyle which means they are more likely to fall within autoplay capitalism.
Newport, C. (2019) Digital minimalism: Choosing a focused life in a noisy world. New York: Portfolio.
Within his 2019 book Digital minimalism: Choosing a focused life in a noisy world, Cal Newport argues for digital minimalism, a philosophy that advocates intentional technology use to reclaim focus and autonomy. He critiques the addictive nature of digital tools and proposes strategies like tech sabbaticals and solitude to foster deeper engagement with life. Newport’s call for intentional disconnection challenges the imposed temporal structures of digital engagement. By resisting the compulsive cycles of notifications and autoplay, digital minimalism disrupts the relentless pacing that diminishes agency and enforces participation. By introducing deliberate pauses between videos, the plugin forces users to make conscious decisions about their viewing, rather than being passively drawn into the next recommendation. This intervention embodies Newport’s argument that reclaiming attention requires active resistance against persuasive design. Breaking the rhythm of endless consumption, the plugin acts as a digital minimalist tool, empowering users to engage with content on their own terms rather than those dictated by platform algorithms.
Zhou, M. (2016) Fragmented time. Available at: https://www.behance.net/gallery/45820185/Fragmented-Time
In her 2016 Graduation Show piece Fragmented Time, Zhou represents the ease with which technology can whisk users away, immersing them in an endless cycle of distraction. The piece visually simulates how individuals fall into the digital rabbit hole, losing track of time as they are pulled deeper into fragmented, nonlinear engagement. Through her use of visual design, Zhou illustrates how digital spaces fracture attention, disrupting a person’s ability to focus and maintain intentional interaction with content. By capturing the overwhelming and disorienting nature of digital consumption, Fragmented Time highlights how technological structures dictate user behavior, often without their conscious awareness.
Zhou’s work directly influenced the design of our plugin, which aims to combat the same experience of overwhelming digital engagement by preventing users from binge-watching YouTube videos. Just as Fragmented Time exposes the chaotic and compulsive nature of digital consumption, our plugin intervenes by breaking the cycle of autoplay and endless recommendations. Inspired by Zhou’s representation of distraction, we sought to create a tool that restores user agency, forcing deliberate engagement rather than passive absorption. By interrupting YouTube’s seamless flow of content, the plugin replicates Zhou’s critique in an interactive form, transforming her visual exploration into a functional digital intervention.
Song, Yehwan (2024) ‘(Whose) World (How) Wide Web’, Instagram. Available at: https://www.instagram.com/p/C2X0OJIrwNH/?igsh=QkFmeF92WWNBaw%3D%3D&img_index=1
Yehwan Song critiques the standardized structures of the web, questioning who controls digital spaces and how users navigate them. Through experimental web design, Song disrupts conventional interfaces, highlighting the hidden constraints that shape online experiences. Song’s work exposes how digital platforms dictate engagement patterns, limiting user agency. By resisting uniformity, it challenges the imposed temporal and spatial structures that enforce passive consumption and uninterrupted participation. This project utilizes the digital landscape to express its intended messaging, which inspired our project’s direction, to engage the internet as a medium of communication. It created a visual language for us to better understand how we wanted to express our perception of autoplay and the digital medium. Song’s experimental approach to digital design helped us conceptualize a visual and functional language for our intervention. By disrupting autoplay’s seamless flow, our plugin mirrors Song’s critique of passive digital consumption, transforming it into an active choice.
Gerbaudo, P. (2012) ‘Introduction’ Tweets and the Streets. London: Pluto Press. Available at: https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/ual/reader.action?docID=3386687&ppg=1g=1
In the introduction for his book Tweets and the Streets (2012) Paolo Gerbaudo examines the role of social media within contemporary activism, arguing that platforms like Twitter and Facebook dictate collective action. While enabling mobilization and community these digital tools also shape and pace the direction of movements, constraining what the individuals interacting with the platforms can do. By extension, Youtube, which is a social media, also imposes temporal structures and directions, prioritizing virality and algorithmic urgency in order to dictate engagement. The rapid, fleeting nature of online movements mirrors broader societal rhythms that demand constant participation, often at the cost of sustained organizing and reflection upon the behaviour and media that is being consumed. This felt especially relevant to our project as we felt that the autoplay feature exists as a form of determining the pace of the users’ engagement with the work, choreographing the way the platform is to be used and engaged with.
McLuhan, M., Fiore, Q. (1967) The Medium is the Massage: An Inventory of Effects, Berkeley: Gingko Press. Available at: https://archive.org/details/pdfy-vNiFct6b-L5ucJEa
In their 1967 book The Medium is the Massage: An inventory of Effects Marshall McLuhan and Quentin Fiore argue that the medium itself shapes human perception and society more than the content that is delivered. They explore how media alter sensory experiences and social structures, emphasizing that technological environments dictate how people think, act, and interact. McLuhan’s insights highlight how media impose temporal structures that govern attention and behavior. This text was also important in our research regarding our project, as we found that autoplay develops itself as almost a medium of expression, as the individual is being exposed to information through the algorithmic stream of videos. The rhythmic flow of digital content, from autoplay to infinite scroll, enforces patterns of passive consumption, shaping participation in ways often unnoticed. This also is expressed through the use of pop-ups in our work, the pop-ups become the medium and therefore the message is also within it.
“Killing rhythms” is a concept introduced by Fred Moten and Stefano Harney in their 2013 book The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning & Black Study. They describe it as a normative and systematic temporal structure of capitalist, settler-colonial society—one that enforces productivity, discipline, and exclusion.
Based on this concept, my group and I decided to examine systems that we believe reinforce similar patterns. Each of us identified a system that excludes people with disabilities or those who face struggles.
For my contribution to this group, I identified two different systems that operate within the framework of killing rhythms, as described by Moten and Harney.
First, I examined the corporate workspace, where disabilities are often overlooked. Fast-paced corporate environments fail to account for employees who may struggle with meeting targets or handling intricate workloads under strict time constraints. To address this, I proposed a system that would allow individuals to express when they are struggling with their workload.
Second, I explored creative fields, which, while similar to corporate environments, present an additional challenge: the demand for rapid yet innovative output. While meeting deadlines is already difficult for many, individuals with disabilities may face even greater obstacles in reaching creative expectations. As a potential intervention, I considered how identifying and working with alternative rhythms could make creative workspaces more inclusive.
After discussing our ideas as a group, we ultimately decided to pursue my classmate’s idea of portraying capitalism through autoplay. We felt this concept effectively represented the killing rhythm system.
For this project, each of us was tasked with generating two ideas for interventions. One of my ideas was to create a browser plug-in that would help users limit their intake of autoplay content. Its goal was to remind individuals that they have the agency to stop consuming media, rather than being drawn into an endless cycle of passive viewing.
To refine this idea, I spoke to my friends and peers about their own media consumption habits and how autoplay affects their daily lives. Through these discussions, we realized that users are more likely to ignore pop-ups that resemble the platform’s original design, as they tend to blend into the interface. This insight led me to consider creating pop-ups that break the expected visual pattern, introducing randomness to keep viewers more engaged and aware of their consumption.
Another aspect we discussed was the tone of these pop-ups. While a fully professional tone was an option, we also considered incorporating a variety of tones—some playful, some direct—to better capture users’ attention and prompt them to reflect on their viewing habits.
For this project, each of us created roughly seven pop-ups, which we then compiled into a short film simulating how the plug-in would work. We incorporated all our ideas into this film and presented it to the class on Tuesday.
Following the feedback of my tutor and peers, my team and me decided to create a few more pieces of media that would accompany this project. I took it upon myself to create a faux bank statement that would be sent to individuals in order to bring awareness to their screen use.
Harris, T. (2016) ‘How technology hijacks people’s minds’, Medium. Available at: https://medium.com/thrive-global/how-technology-hijacks-peoples-minds-from-a-magician-and-google-s-design-ethicist-56d62ef5edf3
Zhou, M. (2016) Fragmented time. Available at: https://www.behance.net/gallery/45820185/Fragmented-Time
Newport, C. (2019) Digital minimalism: Choosing a focused life in a noisy world. New York: Portfolio.
Song, Yehwan (2024) ‘(Whose) World (How) Wide Web’, Instagram. Available at: https://www.instagram.com/p/C2X0OJIrwNH/?igsh=QkFmeF92WWNBaw%3D%3D&img_index=1
McLuhan, M., Fiore, Q. (1967) The Medium is the Massage: An Inventory of Effects, Berkeley: Gingko Press. Available at: https://archive.org/details/pdfy-vNiFct6b-L5ucJEa
Gerbaudo, P. (2012) ‘Introduction’ Tweets and the Streets. London: Pluto Press. Available at: https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/ual/reader.action?docID=3386687&ppg=1
Abdurraqib, H. (2023) ‘The hollow allure of Spotify Wrapped’, The New Yorker. Available at: https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-lede/the-hollow-allure-of-spotify-wrapped
The A11Y Project (2022) ‘Never use auto-play’, The A11Y Project. Available at: https://www.a11yproject.com/posts/never-use-auto-play/
DRAFT 1
My chosen piece was a printed vase illustration by Andrea Lauren (@inkprintrepeat on IG). Lauren specializes in linocut printing and especially in working with jigsaw printing.
Technically, linocutting did not present itself as a challenge, it used fairly straightforward methods of carving and while it did take an adjustment to holding and handling the tools I was quickly able to familiarise myself with it. The biggest technical challenge I found was not being able to control the carving fully without sacrificing the loyalty to the original piece. Another challenge of the medium was the fact that I was only able to source a few primary colours of the printing inks that are typically used with it. While I was confident that I could mix them to match, I had not anticipated how hard getting an even mix would be.
From my observation, many linocut artists seem to favour folk imagery as well as classical motifs, oftentimes it seems apparent they are trying to emulate the image of woodcuts or the feel of older prints.
To the benefit of the medium, it seems to be used often to create empowering and accessible prints, many times created from a diy spirit.
DRAFT 2
After reading the snippet of Raymond Queneau’s “Exercises in style”, I was intrigued by the playfulness and the difference presented by the few chapters available. While maintaining some parameters and constraints, his work clearly flourishes under this enforced rulebook. By retelling a simple anecdote in 99 different styles, it highlights the malleability of language, the role of form in shaping meaning, and the humor in experimentation.
Queneau’s example sits to show that language is a medium that can be shaped, chiseled and expanded, which intrigued me as a concept. While the medium I had chosen was of a less literal manner, I was interested in putting into practice the similar mindset of creation through constraint.
Initially it was daunting to try to consider different ways of experimenting with my iterations. Even though lino printing is a medium that encourages experimentation within some limits, I was struggling with imagining or thinking up methods of hacking the medium in a way that had not been done before or shown to me by my own printing books. One of which being Andrea Lauren’s own book, Block Print
Using my previously established medium, I devised to experiment in different materials while maintaining the same ink and stamp, which will act as a control element and my own established constraint.
I was aware that conceptually, the message I was choosing to translate through my print was as important as the print itself, so I took the time to consider what I wanted to evoke through my print. It seemed natural for me to create a piece that represented my identity. I chose to depict a Romanian immigrant within a crowd of people, her face neutral as to be altered by the methods I intended using. I maintained my approach playful, my workspace was my floor, scattered on a plastic cover were my supplies, my ink spread on paper, some towels on the side to dab my inked pads when they needed cleaning.
My materials were sourced from what I had around my house. Thick cardstock and mixed media paper were my first victims of experimentation. My first course of action was to print as I had been instructed, moderately wiping the ink off and pressing the paper on top with even pressure, but as I continued creating prints I changed up the pattern, opting to either use too little or too much ink to observe the effects caused.
Following that up with using tracing paper and fabric to print. I found the tracing paper created an interesting effect, as the paper buckled and warped due to the wetness of the ink. The fabric has an equally surprising effect, bleeding through the material and folding within the carved out portions, the fabric prints picking up way more ink that the normal paper prints.
An unexpected effect was the creation of prints on ‘scrap’ pieces and fabric, where I had carelessly put down the blocks in need to not stain my carpet. These prints created a textured and quite freeing print, the image unencumbered by my control. These created the most intriguing imagery.
Overall this step of the experimentation helped me better understand the process of lino printing and how this can be hacked and changed to create new and interesting visuals.
DRAFT 3
I began this project slightly unsure, freshly back from my holidays I didn’t know what I wanted to approach as my medium of iteration. I was torn between forms and artists I wanted to follow. With the help of my tutors and colleagues I finally decided I would take up lino printing. I had often marvelled at such projects and it seemed very satisfying to carve away at a block.
For my referential step of this project, I decided to recreate a piece by Andrea Lauren (@inkprintrepeat on IG) of a printed greek vase. I was fortunate that Andrea Lauren also authored an instructional book on lino printing, which gave me a starting point in understanding supplies and the process.
For my own iterations I wanted to create a piece that would be created out of separate pieces of lino which gave me the opportunity to switch the pieces.
After drying I have compiled the pieces in a GIF to be better seen. I have experimented with several materials and methods of printing. I used fabric, tracing paper, cardstock and crocheted pieces which created an interesting texture. Using the fabric I also tried a method of blotting the block with the material insead of printing it on facing up, which created a ghostly shadow print. I also tried overinking my block and staping that on which created thick outlines and undefined lines. I also stamped my block in the ink, creating an impression in the ink.
Working on draft three I decided to change my approach to printing. Instead of carefully creating a template for myself to crave I decided to carve directly on the lino trying my best to mirror words and write backwards. I printed this on both tracing and cardstock as well as replicatingg my previous method of stamping my block within a thick ink layer.
At the feedback of my colleagues I decided that my final draft will be printed on fabric using an overinking technique and layered with some graphic elements similar to my original print.
Following the advice of my tutor and peers, I bound the pieces into an A4 book sitched together in a Japanese Stab Stitch.
Lauren, Andrea. Block Print: Everything You Need to Know for Printing with Lino Blocks, Rubber Blocks, Foam Sheets, and Stamp Sets (New York: Watson-Guptill, 2016).
Marshall, Sam. Linocut: A Creative Guide to Making Beautiful Prints (London: Pavilion Books, 2022).
Crawhall, Joseph. Quaint Cuts in the Chapbook Style (New York: Dover Publications, 1974).
Queneau, Raymond. Exercises in Style. Translated by Barbara Wright. 1947. London: Peter Owen Publishers, 1990.
Bawden, Edward. A Book of Cuts. 1978. London: Studio Vista.
This text is a adaptation of Hito Steyerl’s In Defense of the Poor Image in the style of Georges Perec’s Species of Spaces:
The Poor image, its low-resolution, its pixelation. What is it to us? A frame, a boundary, a membrane between the image and its dissolution. A copy of a copy. Lost data, stripped layers, colours fading into nothing. And yet, somehow, it lives. It brings forth its messaging and shares with the viewer the rawness.
There are images we see, and there are images of the images we see, each layer adding noise, subtracting sharpness, blurring, changing. And yet they travel, unhindered by their deterioration. They move across the internet, finding new places to settle, new screens to glow on, and in their persistence, they become something else—a relic, an artefact of their own decay.
High-definition images—these are images that demand a certain space, a certain screen, a certain fidelity. They proclaim permanence. They claim a “place.” But the poor image has no such pretensions. It does not occupy; it wanders. It migrates across the global network like a nomad. The focus of an image is a status marker, the sharp akin-to-life look of it denotes to us its quality, it marks itself as a higher social standing. Being out of focus islowers one’s value as an image.
The lower quality image is regarded as second best, lingering in our lives as a lesser being, yet it persists and shines. We share it despite its flaws, we engage it for what it really is. Some may opt to remove themselves from the lessen image, to imagine instead of engaging with lower quality. The poor image persists, as a way of reassuring us that nothing can silence our culture, even in its deteriorated quality.
Each image is a memory, faint but enduring. Each image is a shared space, bridging disparate rooms, screens, places. Its poverty is its resilience. It resists, not by defying time, but by moving with it, changing with it.