After my experiment, I can see I have a long way to go to get authentic illuminated manuscripts. At first glance, you can see what was intended, but I’m aren’t sold on the historic accuracy of the piece.
I’ll start by looking at the most basic part of the design—supplies. Obviously, this computer generated design lacks a lot of the authenticity I’m looking to convey. To do this, I’m going to need to hand-render the upcoming projects.
Of course, that means I have to determine an appropriate paper stock. At this time, people in the Middle East and parts of Asia had been making paper out of various plant materials (papyrus being one of the most popular), but that technology hadn’t made it to Europe just yet.
Europeans were using parchment, a material much like modern vellum. (If you’re interested in learning more about how parchment is made, head over to http://bit.ly/ejlcTH for a nutshell walkthrough). Now, the color of parchment is typically a light yellow/ivory, so those bright white papers? I won’t be using those this month. Nor will I be using those buff/natural/ivory papers; no, we’re going to be using vellum for these projects.
Now that we have our surface, let’s discuss mediums. Illuminate manuscripts, in the strictest sense of the phrase, refer to the gold or silver leaf detailing (or illuminating) the page. But with that, there are thick, opaque colors that are very vibrant. To duplicate those, I will be using gouache—using water colors or prismacolors won’t give me the thick, solid color I need. For inking purposes, I will be using a traditional pen and ink.
Up Next: The breakdown of illuminated manuscript design.
So, to kick off this project I’ll be starting with illuminated manuscripts. I know what you’re thinking; yes, technically, if I was to start at the beginning, I’d be making cave drawings and then pictographs on papyrus followed by hand-carved Roman typography. And I could do that, and it would be a lovely exploration of design and art and history, but I would prefer to work with something a little less limiting.
To dip my toe in the water, if you will, I formatted a poem written by my little brother. Now, this was a project I did in about four hours just to see where I was as far as my stock/ornamentation needs, and what kind of grasp I had on the design vocabulary.
There are obviously things that I will have to work on (beginning with actual hand-rendering), but overall, I am pleased with this first attempt.
I have had a unique opportunity to immerse myself in a 19th century design vocabulary for the past four years, and it is only recently that I feel I’ve “gotten it.”
Part of what I do repurposing a two hundred year old aesthetic to help the viewer feel as though they are looking at something produced in the 1800s, even as it advertises an event in the 21st century. It leads to some interesting debates as to what makes a design authentic? What makes another design retro? How do we balance the two to maintain our message and appeal to a modern audience at the same time?
There aren’t an hard and fast answers, but we have come up with a few guidelines. The easiest of these is to look at what exactly gives it a feel evocative of a historical era? Is it a few elements placed around the page, and still adhering to modern design standards? Or is it the typography, colors (or lack thereof), imagery, elements, and language?
If it’s the former, congratulations. You’ve created a retro design that every other joker who knows how to use Photoshop can do. If it’s the latter, most likely you’ve created a historically accurate design, and you probably have the eye necessary for being a true graphic designer.
