Bookshelf: Do the F*cking Work
Lowbrow Advice for High-Level Creativity
Effective is effective.
Do the F*cking Work: Lowbrow Advice for High-Level Creativity
Jason Bacher, Brian Buirge, and Jason Richburg; 2019, Harper Design
Please note: for what I hope are obvious reasons, there’s A LOT of profanity in this essay. That asterisk in the title exists precisely there and nowhere else. I take on the material directly and, I’d like to think, thoughtfully. But if you’re likely to be offended by all that, you’ll want to skip this one — there are more than two dozen other fine essays available on Ars Pandemonium!
Now, on with the fucking essay.
I picked this book up on a whim — I think it was a “Recommended for You” kind of deal on Bookshop.org or something, or maybe I saw someone mention it online? Don’t know. I had heard of GFDA, but had never really explored it.
Anyway, the title did what it was obviously supposed to do: it got my attention! I was intrigued, for sure. I read a lot of books about professional creativity, and this sounded like it might be a fresh, irreverent take. And I have to say, the subtitle does sum up the intended goal of the book.
Does the book achieve that goal? Well, it’s almost exclusively just hoary old advice with the word “fucking” added. Does that work? I mean…yeah! Kind of. But I’m a bit ambivalent.
First, it’s not really a “book” as such. I mean, as a physical object it’s a book — printed pages bound together with a cover and so forth. But content-wise it’s more an extended essay about the founding of the authors’ design firm interspersed with what are, for all intents and purposes, motivational posters.1
This was a little surprising to discover, but okay! It makes sense — that’s basically what their firm makes.2
I’ve written about motivational posters before. But while the sentiments in Do the F*cking Work are not meant to be satire or parody the way Despair, Inc.’s are, they are still meant to, you know, subvert the paradigm or whatever.
Fine. Instead of a cute kitten dangling from a tree branch as the background for “Hang In There!”, it’s stark white lettering on a black background saying “Keep Fucking Going.” It turns out there’s actually…surprisingly little daylight between those!
And in this way GFDA avoids the “snark” problem that imbues Despair’s catalog. They just replace it with so much edginess they risk cutting themselves on their own blades.
Ultimately, there’s something about the disposition of this book that bothers me, and it’s different than what the authors think (or claim to think) might bother readers.
Is it winking at me? Am I supposed to be winking at it, winking at me? Is it winking at me, winking at it, winking at me? It may not be edgelord exactly, but it’s pretty damn arch.
Look, I’m not offended by the language (please, I don’t even think their profanity game is that strong; these guys are American-ass amateurs — I’ve worked with Irish and Dutch folks who could swear them out the window). Nor am I offended by the bluntness of the advice — for the most part, I think it’s pretty insightful! My delicate sensibilities aren’t put off by the “boldness” of the visual/typographic presentation of the book, either.3 Underneath the bluster, there’s some solid work here.
The issue I have is with the preemptively defensive tone that strikes me as fundamental to this kind of thing. They’re trying to have their pastrami sandwich and eat it too, you know?
“We’re going to be offensive, but if you’re offended it’s because you don’t get it.” “What if I just think it’s silly?” “That’s because you’re offended.” “No, I just don’t think it’s all very good.” “That’s because you don’t get it. You should choose not to be offended. Deal with it, boomer.”
Now, to be clear, at no point do the authors write anything like that at all! It just kind of seeps out of the work. Is it winking at me? Am I supposed to be winking at it, winking at me? Is it winking at me, winking at it, winking at me? It may not be edgelord really, but it’s pretty damn arch.
So look: because so much of the book is about the actual visual presentation, I’ll quote the following passage with a photo:
Oh, hey, they wrote “fucking” sixteen times on that page! And they highlighted each instance! It’s aggressive…but it’s knowingly aggressive, you see, which means it’s irreverent (or something). It’s subversive! But it’s so subversive that it becomes silly and so silly it loops back to subversive. It’s a mirror held to a mirror held to a pastrami sandwich that remains on the platter even as the authors are chowing it down.
C’mon.
I sound like I hate this. But honestly, I don’t! In fact, I completely agree with the sentiment, and I’m not even mad that they took a swing at making it pop with a funny and punchy presentation. I commend the effort!
No, what gets me is that the passage could accomplish so much more with so much less. It could better express both the sentiment and much of the drama by keeping only, say, two or three of the sixteen “fuckings.” Just imagine only the first and last instance of “fucking” in place, maybe one more, and simply delete the rest.
The passage hits much harder, I think, in that form. Still profane! Still owns the prudes! Still speaks “hard-hitting truth!” But it’s twenty six syllables shorter, and leaves the reader with a significantly streamlined cognitive load not trying to figure out how many levels of wink-wink down the meta-narrative they have to go.
It’s just a fucking poster (to coin a phrase).
This kind of aggressive but knowing writing (and comedy, and filmmaking, etc.) always, for me, has a vague sense of intentional divisiveness — of tribal selection. It’s almost a hazing ritual: either you’re cool with it or you’re not in with us. Is that really necessary?
Maybe somebody dislikes all the profanity because they’re an uptight prig and a dour scold. Maybe they’re a sanctimonious boor whining about the coarsening of culture. And…maybe it’s fun to stick it to that person a little. It’s just a fucking poster (to coin a phrase). Sure, I get that.
But maybe there’s another reason somebody is uncomfortable with the language? Maybe there are a million possible reasons why someone might be! No point to even bother with a list — any marginally empathetic person could think of ten right off the top of their head.
Does that mean we all have to tiptoe around all the time? Emphatically no!
But it does make a litmus test of how-much-edgy-can-you-handle feel a little ham-handed at best…and breathlessly desperate at worst.
I mean, take the advice “Defy fucking convention.” Seems promising. Good advice. But then it says:
“Be that guy in cargo shorts in the room full of furries. Following the herd might lower your chances of getting picked off but all the rewards will be picked over. Don’t let your work blend in with the landscape; climb to the top of the canopy and claim some new territory.”
What? We’ve got a couple of metaphors about animals in the wild which I guess seem kind of related, I suppose. But what the hell is that first line?
If you’re a dude in cargo shorts in a room full of furries, I’ll bet you’re not a bold individualist; I’ll bet you are an asshole.
Maybe my “woke” is showing here, but that exact same sentence, inverted (i.e., “show up to a room full of bros in cargo shorts in a furry outfit”), would be way more subversive. It wouldn’t be any more sensical in the context of the other metaphors, but at least it would make its own point. As it is, it just seems…mean.
This odd mismatch between the pithy advice and the longer description comes up a lot. One piece of great advice is: “Solve problems through fucking action.” Yeah, awesome! But it’s expanded upon like this:
“Don’t get beaten for not fighting back. Even if you get your ass kicked, you won’t be ashamed to tell the story if you get a few swings in. Most people survive ass kickings anyway, so you’ll also get useful experience as a gift from the process. If you get back in the fight with some new resolve (and maybe just a bit of blind faith) to complement that experience, you won’t keep getting your ass kicked for long.”
Okay, tough guy. Settle down.
On the other hand, the advice “Fucking ideate” is expanded in a clever way. Across two facing pages there are dozens of phrases which sound more or less like the phrases throughout the book, but they’re all crossed out. The implication is a look-behind-the-scenes at the iterative process.
Is this real? Or did they just write these in order to cross them out? Who knows! It’s cool to see, anyway. And there’s a footnote that says, “You aren’t going to nail it on the first try; you’ll be lucky if you get it on the last try.” Love it.
Sometimes it’s better when they go smaller and simpler. One of my favorites in the book is:
“Exceed the fucking expectations. Be the surprise onion ring in that order of french fries.”
And sometimes it works best when they don’t bother with the expanded descriptions at all. One passage I really liked a lot was the advice: “Be fucking patient.” That’s a good phrase! And the book gives it some delightful context. It’s printed over SIX pages, one word per page — just one word per facing-page pair! — with the pages otherwise blank, though switching colors.4
The experience of reading it is effective — the form follows the function, right? The medium is the message (as it were). You read one word at a time. You know it’s going to be advice, that’s the point of the book…but you have to keep turning the pages and finding the next word. The slow realization of what they are doing when you finally come upon the word “patience” is great!
Is it also…too clever for its own good? I don’t know, I’m torn. It works, and who am I to critique effectiveness? But it’s also kind of exhausting?
Much of the project is cutesy and try-hard like this, but I keep coming back to the fact that there really is some great stuff in there. “Fuck mediocrity.” “Get over your fucking self.” “Ask good fucking questions.” “You won’t know until you fucking try.” “Pay attention to your mistakes, listen to what they’re telling you about yourself.” “It’s better to look stupid than be ignorant.”
This stuff is gold. When it works, the profanity does freshen up what is otherwise pretty well-worn (but quality!) advice. It’s all very mindful, very demure.5
Sometimes it seems like they just can’t help themselves, though, and suddenly it’s:
“Walk into that first meeting like you invented that shit, even if you’re not sure exactly what it is.”
Yeah, that’s a sure-fire recipe for being a person that folks want to work with. <eye roll emoji>
In truth, I both like this book, and dislike that I like it.
One key question I take away from this book is: who is this for?
I mean, most of the great designers I know who are super skilled but still curious and learning (the type who I imagine read material about design) will not be shocked or scandalized by the language…but they will grow weary of it.
The kind of people who would use this material as a cudgel to beat down folks who might, for whatever reason, actually be offended by it, are just losers.
And the kind of folks who might really vibe with this — I’m thinking probably hot-shot recent grads who haven’t yet developed the empathy to shut the hell up about how edgy they are — would seem to constitute a very small and moving target.
But what do I know? The book seems to sell well — hell, I bought it! Also the consultancy seems successful, and I’m guessing they’re moving a lot more merch than I am.
In truth, I both like this book, and dislike that I like it. I’m frustrated that it feels so close to right, but just seems to fall off the tightrope it has strung for itself. I sense there is — or could be — a book here somewhere that I both like and feel good about liking.
Maybe that’s what I’m trying to do with Ars Pandemonium? Hmm. Maybe I’ll get there. Inch by inch, folks.
Finally, I’ll admit I did laugh out loud at the “Index” in the back of the book. I won’t spoil it in case you pick it up, but it’s clever. As with a lot of other things in the book it’s a pretty facile and shallow gag, but I laughed — and I’ll probably remember it.
So there you go. Effective is effective.
The essay part is succinct and enjoyable enough, though it has the same basic tone as the rest of the book. There’s a bit of “we have climbed every mountain, drunk from every fountain” baloney, but it is amusing how they refer to GFDA as their “swear-word company.”
I guess they’re a consultancy now, but isn’t that kind of the same thing? They tip their hat to this right at the beginning of the book when they describe the life of a design grad student teaching undergrads the same 40-ish design principles over and over. Pretty much what a consultant does, too.
In fact, while some of it is overcooked, a lot of the visual presentation works well. For instance, there’s a funny easter egg on the page “Measure twice; cut fucking once.” The page is meant to look like it’s been mis-printed. Fine, cute enough. But in tiny font on the edge of the proof it says “DO THE FUCKING WORK_FINAL_Final_(F).PDF.” That’s good stuff. Not exactly original, but good.
Some pages in the book are plain white, but others are black and some are red. It’s a choice.
As the youths would say.