viz. - politics

Beer'n'Bridges: the Look of Austin's City Council Race

Rhiannon Goad — Tue, 04 Nov 2014 15:21:10 +0000

Austin voting districts, image from Austin Chronicle

Today’s a big deal Austin city government. Under a new districting plan, voters will select a radically different city council. We’ll exchange our six at-large members for a ten-member, geographically representative city council. The new structure of city council, combined with term limits ousting most sitting members, means we’ll have both new people and a new suture for governance. With so many seats up for grabs, there are dozens of candidates vying for support. All around the city, anywhere you can stick a sign you’ll find candidates’ names.

In the political culture where corporations are people, branding a candidate is big business. If candidates are themselves brands, then names are logos. And in Austin, apparently, your name had better look like a creative design firm or craft beer brand.

What can you tell from looking at the design of an Austin city council member’s name as a logo? Depends on what you’re looking for.

Environmentalists vs. Realtors

Austin’s city government is bipartisan, meaning candidates don’t run under party affiliations. So, we have to look at issues to track conflict. For decades, Austin governance has been defined by a spilt between environmentalists and the real estate community. While these two camps have remained at the center of Austin’s political debate, issues like affordability and transportation complicate the traditional balance. Making things even more complicated, the real estate and environmental organizations sometimes endorse the same candidate.

Is there an easy way to tell who’s on which team? Can we spot the division between real estate and environmental candidates by looking at their logos? Well, not really, but sort of.

For instance, here’s a collection of images from candidates endorsed by real estate groups but not environmental groups:

Logos from candiates' websites, endorsement information from Austin Chronicle

Except one obvious outlier, these signs are polished and professional. They’re fairly modern too. But are they that different than the environmental folks? Let’s take a look at candidates endorsed by environmental groups and not real estate organizations:

Logos from candiates' websites, endorsement information from Austin Chronicle

Here, the environmentally backed candidates evoke green and hint to plant life. For the most part, they’re not terribly modern. You could even say they’re a little colorful but traditional.

Okay, now compare these examples with branding from candidates endorsed by both environmental and real estate organizations:

Logos from candiates' websites, endorsement information from Austin Chronicle

Branding for candidates with both real estate and environmentalist support tend to be the nicest. At best, they’re pretty with nice typeface and soft colors. At worst, they tend to all blur together. They also look vaguely familiar…

Austin Beer Works Aesthetic

The pretty cans and billboards of Austin Beer Works (ABW) embody what many would identify as the ideal Austin aesthetic: basic but attractive, cool but friendly, welcoming but not old fashioned. While the brains behind the ABW, Helms Workshop, are responsible for other iconic Austin imagery, the ABW aesthetic has saturated our city. Predictably, the AWB aesthetic has spilled into local political advertising.

Image from Helms Workshop

Stop drooling, you animal. This is city politics, not a lake party. Even though some of these logos would look really great on a can or someplace you can buy a fancy-pants hotdog:

Images from candiates' websties

Like the ABW marketing, Austin candidates have fashioned themselves with logos featuring bright and bold complimentary colors, lots of simple sans-serif lettering, with the occasional restrained script.

For the most part, these logos look clean and professional. At best, the logo looks cool and spirited (Casar’s is a standout for sure.) At worst, the trendy approach results in a messy, confusing logo (who is “EJR”?).

Thanks, Obama

Surely, even those who blame Obama for ebola will admit that the president’s two campaigns produced some of the best-ever campaign branding. Isn’t that what Republicans refer to when they accuse supporters of being swept up by rhetoric?

Image from Obama's website

Obama’s campaign branding did something really interesting with the colors of the US flag by changing, ever so slightly, the shade of blue. Candidates for Austin council have certainly taken note:

Images from candiates' websites

However, not everyone reflects the design of Obama’s America. Some candidates opt for a darker-than-the-flag blue or keep the traditional colors. Do these look more Republican, or at least conservative? Well, Marco’s looking a lot like an old McCain sticker:

Images from candiates' websites

Other candidates, many of whom are not endorsed by any major city organization, keep with tradition:

Images from candiates' websites

There is something certainly more modern about the light blue, compared with the royal. In a city with a lot of love for Obama, the light blue seems to work. Or does it? I guess we’ll find out tonight.

Predictor of success?

Is branding an indicator of a candidate’s success at the polls? On one hand, not a single candidate without any branding (and there are some) received a major endorsement. So, yeah, it seems like professional branding might indicate a candidate’s chances of getting into office. But does it have to be cute? After all, Obama-inspired, ABW design has not always secured a seat for Austin city government. Take, for example, the 2012 city council race between Randi Shade and Kathy Tovo.

Images from candiates' websites

It was a tight race but in the end Tovo’s old school design didn’t keep her from office.

So Bad They’re Good

I like the ABW style, but that’s not to say it gets my vote. I voted for some of these gals and guys with old-fashioned, boring signage. But, at the same time, I didn’t vote for anyone with straight-up ugly signs. What do I mean by ugly? I mean this:

Image from candiate's website

But, even if a particular sign doesn’t win or lose a particular vote in a particular cycle, it’s not to say that signs don’t influence elections. A good sign can embody enthusiasm, rally the base, get ‘em fired up and ready to go.

Of course, what it means to be aesthetically good is contextual. And, perhaps like context, politics are boundless. Because the line between what I like for ironic reasons and what I like for non-ironic reasons is difficult to locate, it’s not impossible for me to imagine getting pumped up about a really bad sign. This isn’t just because money in elections makes me uncomfortable. It’s also because I kind of like ugly stuff.

"Christopher 4 ATX" is not good-good. It’s real, real bad-good. It has that Tim-and-Eric-bad-public-television je ne sais quoi. Honestly, I kind of love it. And, after looking at a lot of logos over the past months, the pretty ones start to run together. It’s bad signs like this that I remember the most. Isn’t standing out above the riff raff half the battle? Be weird so you can keep weird?

But then again, did I vote for this guy? Nope. But would I have voted for this guy if he had the pedigree and position of the person I voted for? Totally. And I would’ve put this sign in my yard. It would have made me laugh every time I walked through my sad little yard. It would have made me happy. So, yeah, it appeals to my sensibilities (whatever that means.)

For our next election cycle, will we have fewer pretty signs? Is that what I want? I don’t know. But before I wish for more terrifically shitty branding in local elections I’m going to hope for more Leslie-inspired politics and imagery.

Image from GSD&M

Tags:

politics

elections

Austin

city council

irony

Leslie

Longhorns and Ovaries

Emily Lederman — Fri, 31 Oct 2014 00:25:41 +0000

Five days before a significant Texas, and Austin, Election Day, I’m stepping back to consider the visual rhetoric employed during Wendy Davis’s famous filibuster and the subsequent protests for women’s reproductive rights at the Texas capitol. I’m particularly interested in the claiming of UT’s particular shade of burnt orange in support of Davis and the revision of the longhorn symbol into a uterus and ovaries.

At the first protest for women’s reproductive rights at the Texas capitol that I attended last spring I remember being confused by the prevalent burnt orange clothing, which I did not initially assume was in support of women, as I associate this color with Texas football culture, not often a feminist space. Was this a misplaced pep rally? It turns out that the claiming of this color and the creative t-shirts it inspired was a wise decision that allowed UT and Texas pride to share a visual space with women’s health and reproductive rights activism.

UT student organizations often appropriate the burnt orange color and/or the longhorn to make their particular political statement, implying that the longhorn, and UT, can stand for many (conflicting) causes. What is the impact of claiming this particular shared shape and/or color? Is it conformist or confrontational? I like to think these images can allow for an activist claiming of school pride, and perhaps indicate a refusal to rally around an undefined longhorn.

Supporters of Wendy Davis’s filibuster used email and social media to encourage all attendees to wear burnt orange. Although it could be argued that this color normalized the visual appearance of the protest, it’s also powerful for an issue as controversial as abortion in Texas to successfully claim UT’s color. It was pretty exciting to see the sea of orange at the capitol all night long in support of the filibuster. (And it was frustrating that many news reports at the time misleadingly suggested that the building was filled with an equal amount of anti and pro-choice activists, when in reality the overwhelming majority of attendees were there in support of Davis).

image credit: occupy

Returning to the most striking claiming of the longhorn I’ve seen, what does it mean to turn an aggressive-looking kind of cattle into female reproductive organs? The above shirt is the official version of the symbol, distributed by Austin printshop Bumperactive and designed by activists Cole Latimer and Carrie Collier-Brown. The horns of the original cow are already in a useful position to serve as ovaries. On the homemade version of the t-shirt (see below) even less tweaking is done to get the image across. In fact on either shirt, there’s not much necessary change to make the longhorn head into a uterus shape. The similarity of the original longhorn and the one that stands for reproductive rights is what gives this image particular power, as it’s jarring and results in lots of double takes. It’s daring and productive to conflate an image most associated with football culture with progressive feminist causes. I appreciate that unlike the hyper-feminized imagery of the breast cancer movement, this image is aggressive yet unquestionably female. By embodying (in more than one way) the longhorn image that most often represents UT pride and football, feminist activists counter patriarchal power structures (sports leadership included), refuse the passivity associated with female sex organs in mainstream misogynist culture, and claim ownership over female reproductive parts and reproductive choices.

I’m not as into the slogan of the official shirts, although its threatening nature has that refreshing aggressive quality, daring politicians to police women’s bodies. The slogan’s most famous origin is on an early Texan flag, along with a cannon and star, made during the conflict often referred to as the War for Texas Independence or the Texas Revolution. The star/slogan combo has become a rallying symbol for the Texas gun rights movement as well.

image credit: Iris Dimmick, Rivard Report

Many other creative visual elements were employed in support of the filibuster. Women taped their mouths shut, visually representing the traditional silencing in the capitol of those supporting women’s rights. Clothing hangers were also present, representing the long history of pro-choice movement and the unsafe alternatives to accessible and legal abortion clinics. Throughout the filibuster, there seemed to be a fear among capitol officials and conservative politicians of disruptive and bodily visual representation. An unfounded rumor that pro-choice attendees were going to throw feminine products or jars of urine and feces onto the floor prompted security to confiscate all tampons and pads from any woman who wished to enter the capitol—this act was also known as “Tampongate.” Although nothing was thrown, disruption was used as a successful intervention when Dewhurst tried to unlawfully declare the filibuster failed just minutes before it was to end: the galley, and then the rest of the capitol, erupted in cries and screams that paused the proceedings.

Clearly, mobilizing a visual representation of women’s reproductive organs is a powerful political statement, especially when it involves the Texas longhorn. Though the fact that an image of a uterus and ovaries is considered shocking or offensive is certainly ironic given the policing and sexualization of women’s bodies in mainstream culture. The filibuster was of course a success that night, and an important rallying point for women’s rights in Texas, but celebrations could only last so long. Another special session was called to get the law passed, resulting in the closure of 40 clinics across Texas. But just recently, on October 15^th, the Supreme Court placed a hold on the implementation of the law.

Tags:

politics

Visual Rhetoric

Wendy Davis

Texan Political Photo Ops with Guns

Deb Streusand — Mon, 27 Oct 2014 19:34:14 +0000

Politicians love a good prop. They pose with everything from babies to tanks. For Texas politicians, a crucial photo op is the one that establishes the subject’s relationship with guns. The benchmark for such pictures is the iconic Annie Leibovitz photo of Ann Richards, above. Richards’ pose is relaxed but alert. She is clearly at home holding her gun, which points diagonally to the ground as she chats with the woman on the left. The black and white image gives a classic dignity to the scene of trees and fields, conveying the impression that the photo dates from the early twentieth century rather than the early 1990s. Richards’ pants, button down shirt, pocketed vest and bandanna tied around the neck create a formal version of the cowboy aesthetic. This image is quite distinctly Texan.

In January, Richards’s son Clark presented Richards’s shotgun to Texas gubernatorial candidate Wendy Davis. Naturally, Davis posed with the gun for a photo op.

While the Richards photo captures what appears to be a candid moment of relaxation during a hunt, Davis is clearly orchestrating this image. She is standing in front of three US and two Texas flags, self-consciously promoting the idea that she is part of Texan and American gun culture. She wears a suit jacket and skirt, an unlikely outfit in which to use a hunting gun. She holds the gun to her left and diagonally downwards, perhaps quoting the Richards image, but the angle is slightly different. Whereas Richards would hit the ground if her gun accidentally went off, Davis’s fire would catch the lower body of whoever was unlucky enough to be standing to her left on the speaking platform. The position of Davis’s arms is angular and tense. She does not seem to have Richards’s natural and easy relationship to her gun.

Davis’s opponent, Greg Abbott, posed with a gun for the cover of Texas Monthly.

Abbott slings the gun casually over his shoulder. Unlike Richards and Davis, he holds the gun in one hand, so that he could not easily fire if he needed to. The gun points horizontally, which could be dangerous, but he appears to have no company but the camera. Like Richards, Abbott is pictured in a field with a background of trees. He wears jeans and a button down shirt, a more realistic hunting outfit than Davis’s suit and somewhat similar to Richards’s dress in her photo. His body is relaxed. Like Davis, he smiles at the camera, more self-conscious than the remote Richards.

Both gubernatorial candidates appear to quote the Richards image in their photo ops. Davis, actually holding a gun that belonged to Richards, mimics the angle of Richards’s gun in the photo. Abbott wears clothing similar to Richards’s and appears against a similar backdrop. The Abbott image is closer to the Richards image in tone, and conveys a comparable sense of comfort with a gun. The Davis image is more artificial and somewhat awkward. It seems to be a less successful use of the Richards imagery.

Some conservative bloggers have taken the awkwardness of the Davis image as evidence for Davis’s failure at being a “badass.” They imply that Davis’s credibility on gun issues is as lacking as her comfort with guns appears to be in the photo. This interpretation shows the risk of such photo ops. The photo can align poorly with the beliefs or abilities the politician is trying to promote. The Davis photo attempts to convey how Texan and gun-friendly Davis is, but it fails because of the staged indoor background, Davis's unhunterly clothing, and her awkward posture, which add up to an unsuccessful attempt to show the same confident relationship with guns that is portrayed in the Richards image. The rhetoric of a photo op can be difficult to control, especially if the politician uses a prop with such powerful associations as a gun.

Tags:

politics

Visual Rhetoric

photography