woodtypes borrowed from old Victorian type catalogs. The Russian artists
had located their constructions in the weightlessness of white space even as
they concretized that same space as a formal element. Scher, conversely,
confines this poster within a border then packs it with a feverish riff of
letterforms that energize the surface plane and metaphorically mimic the
improvisational nature of jazz itself.
Scher borrowed the constructivist’s strong geometric composition,
thrusting diagonals, and signature colors: red and black. High contrast is
apparent between the bold, black capitals that spell out BESTand the
smaller, busier typography. Overlapping colors, surprints, and knockouts
make the most of the limited color palette. These elements may explain
why the poster was popularly perceived as constructivist, but there was also
an unmistakable resemblance to Victoriana in the tightly packed, nearly
cluttered arrangement of type, the woodtype typography itself, and the
slant toward ornamentation. Although it was a hybrid of two historical
forms, the result was fresh-faced, decidedly contemporary, and, yet, eerily
familiar, much like a child whose genetic code descends from but ultimately
transcends that of its parents.
Effectively reinterpreting historical style is harder than it looks. To
create unique graphic imagery inspired from the past involves juggling a
number of currents: the inspiration and historical context of the original
work; the resonance of the source material in its original time frame and
the interpretations it might be given when restaged in a contemporary
setting; and the designer’s own personal style and taste. But where are the
boundaries when designers treat past aesthetic vocabularies as a storehouse
of motifs to be used willy-nilly for their gratuitous impact on contemporary
audiences? Far from any universal agreement, historical appropriation
ranges from the clearly ethical—inspiration, influence, homage,
reinterpretation, quotation, and parody—to the blatantly unethical—
mimicry, copying, imitation, and plagiarism.
Some of Scher’s historically inspired inventions have veered
perilously close to copying an original, as with the 1986 Swatch advertising
parody of Herbert Matter’s 1938 poster for the Swiss Tourist Bureau. With
tongue in cheek, Scher assembled most of the same visual elements as
Matter did, with the notable addition of a hand and wrist wearing two
Swatch watches, which are, not incidentally, made in Switzerland. The
capricious nature of the product dramatized in the monumental style of
Matter’s poster created a humorous juxtaposition and sense of absurdity
that appealed to Scher’s wit. It was a chance to play with the 1950 s this-
will-change-your-life type of advertising. In an interview with Dick Coyne
of Communication Arts (May/June 1986 ), Scher explained, “Whether or not
tuis.
(Tuis.)
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