This book is beautifully designed by Atelier David Smith, giving clarity and coherence to diverse subject matter and will, in time, become an important reference of design history of the early 21st century. While the book is not essential for the practice of architecture, it gives an essential fundamental context fo all designers working in Ireland.

As a design historian, I have always been fascinated by the topic of nationalism in design. “Ireland, Design and Visual Culture: Negotiating Modernity, 1922-1992” uses comparisons with “other nationalisms,” including German, Scandinavian and American, to demonstrate how Irish identity was crafted. This book makes for a sometimes complex but rewarding read. It has set a high standard for future work on Irish design, and will benefit anyone who is concerned with the details of how an “identity” is manufactured, whether it is national, corporate, or personal

Linda King and Elaine Sisson’s edition of thirteen new scholarly essays addresses Irish design’s sometimes-fraught relationship with twentieth-century modernism. The book brings together work by an authoritative group of visual culture scholars from diverse academic disciplines to investigate how Irish visual culture both reflected and influenced the development of Ireland as an independent state in the twentieth century. The free state’s impact on twentieth-century Irish design and vice versa is something just beginning to be studied and described in design history. Modernism in Ireland has been examined much more widely in literary studies (the recent Irish Modernism in the Reimagining Ireland series (Peter Lang, 2010), for instance, explores similar themes with some material culture but mainly from the more usual textual perspective). Here, King and Sisson’s book contains several essays on graphic design that examine politics via book covers, posters, and advertising, and generally fewer investigations into other traditional design fields like furniture, fashion, and industrial design, although there is one chapter on the Kilkenny Design Workshops. Instead of including work on well-documented instances of Irish modern design (such as the designer and architect Eileen Gray), Ireland, Design and Visual Culture concentrates on newer avenues of material culture research: new coinage, street parades, and Irish Catholic memorial cards. The international modernist influence in Ireland, a more familiar theme, is also covered in essays on theater design in the 1920s (for the German Expressionist influence) and later–twentieth-century architecture (for the American modern influence). The book itself, a nicely produced hardcover with jacket, can also be seen as an example of the international design’s community’s influence in Ireland today. Some might find the bright, neon-orange-on-white layout distracting or difficult to read; others will appreciate this aspect as part of the book’s overall high-concept design, which was created for Cork U.P. by the design firm Atelier David Smith. Depending on their subjects, some essays are more heavily illustrated than others, but the illustrations included in the volume are all high quality images produced in full color and easy to study in the book’s generous 9½” x 7” trim size. Ireland, Design and Visual Culture will best serve advanced visual/material culture scholars; it is not a general or introductory-level text, and a basic understanding of Irish political history will also aid its readers. There is a detailed bibliography and supporting notes section, and an extensive index. Although art museum or general fine arts libraries may not find it an essential purchase, this title proves a welcome addition to the multi-disciplinary fields of material culture, design, and Irish studies, and is strongly recommended for all academic libraries that support history of design programs and visual or material culture departments. Karyn Hinkle, Reader Services Librarian, Bard Graduate Center: Decorative Arts, Design History, Material Culture, hinkle@bgc.bard.edu

'This book is long overdue. The first comprehensive collection of scholarly essays on 20th-century Irish design and visual culture, whose trajectory was inextricably bound up with the development of Ireland as an independent state, ¡®Ireland, Design and Visual Culture: Negotiating Modernity 1922¨C1992¡ä takes an engaging interdisciplinary approach to the critical examination of how Irish modernity was shaped within, and communicated by, such creative discourses as architecture, advertising, currency, illustration, industrial design, print ephemera, public spectacle and theatre design... the book has a pleasingly broad purview in terms of its objects of analysis, and includes discussions of the German-engineered, Irish-built Shannon Hydro-Electric Scheme of the late 1920s, Aer Lingus tourist posters of the 1950s, and US department-store promotions of Irish design from the mid-1960s to mid-1970s. Moreover, ¡®Ireland, Design and Visual Culture¡¯ is in itself a striking visual piece, thanks to its designer, leading Irish creative David Smith'.

'Design plays a key role in forging national and international identity - and yet often this is overlooked and under-studied. Thus, 'Ireland, Design and Visual Culture: Negotiating Modernity 1922-1992' is a welcome book. Edited by Linda King and Elaine Sisson, it collates a series of thoughtful and authoritative essays useful for thinking about modernity and identity anywhere. It also reminds us how visual history - posters, logos, ephemera etc. - can capture and reveal narratives that textual histories can't always do'.

With the achievement of independence comes the need for a redefined identity. In Ireland, this is usually thought to have happened linguistically, at the hands of literary greats, but as Ireland, Design and Visual Culture sets out to show, post-colonial identity was shaped as much through imagery as it was wordsmithery-smallish and text-heavy, this is no coffee table book – nor does the academic tone make for light reading. But covering everything from the expressionist set designs of early Peacock Theatre plays to the ‘cult of death’ exemplified by Catholic memorial cards, this collection of essays gives a compelling alternative perspective on twentieth-century Irish history

This remarkable volume, a collection of thirteen essays, is astonishingly the first multidisciplinary book on Irish design to appear since the turn of the millennium. It brings together new writing on the much neglected topic of the material culture of Irish modernity. This book is a pioneering and desperately needed volume on Irish design history ... it is the landmark Irish text that has been sorely lacking, not just for students and teachers of design but anyone interested in Irish visual culture in general.

A country's bid to leave behind stodgy Celtic imagery and get out of the shadow of England, Germany, and Scandinavia Graphic and industrial design is not the first thing I think about when thinking about Ireland—the Book of Kells notwithstanding. When considering design landmarks created in Europe during the entire 20th century, the Irish contribution is rather spare. But after a period of economic boom, the now financially besieged Emerald Isle, and Dublin in particular, is making a bid to be named "World Design Capital," which since 2008 has been so designated every two years by the International Council of Societies of Industrial Design. The past capitals were Turin (2008), Seoul (2010), and next year Helsinki (2012). The WDC designation aims to build design awareness for cities that are not widely known for design achievements—it is less about legacy than aspiration. "I think that the growth of Irish design activity reflects a high degree of pragmatism and tenacity that in many ways reflects the Irish psyche."While Ireland is loaded with aspiration, its design legacy has remained somewhat invisible—until now. A new book (published in Ireland), Ireland, Design and Visual Culture: Negotiating Modernity. 1922-1992 (Cork University Press, March 2011), edited by the design historians Linda King and Elaine Sisson, covers, in scholarly fashion, everything from representations of nationality and Celtic revivals to tourist posters and how tradition and modernity intersect. Although it's not bedtime reading, this handsomely designed volume pulls Irish design out of its relative obscurity and introduces it to the design continuum. As a fan of Irish culture, I was curious to learn from King where she placed her nation in the history of design, and particularly where it fits in relation to its closest neighbor, England. "What the book demonstrates in its 70 year span (1922-1992) is that comparison of Irish design activity with that of Britain is only one small facet of a far broader discussion that includes the relationship between Ireland and the U.S., and Ireland and Northern Europe," King notes emphatically. "U.S. advertising strategies, Scandinavian industrial production, German Expressionism and engineering, U.S. and European architecture, all had a profound influence on Irish design development." So why then, is the image of Irish design still so rooted in the stereotypical past? "In terms of inspiration, certainly in the 19th century and immediately post-independence (1921) many examples of Irish visual culture utilized motifs and decoration from early Christian manuscripts—of which the Book of Kells would be the most famous—as a way of marking Irish 'uniqueness' and providing a distinct visual language to that of Britain," King adds. "These visual devices—whether applied to Catholic-sponsored comic books, stamps, album covers, or animated films—have long been utilized as markers of Irish 'difference' and still hold currency today." As a member of the European Union, Ireland cannot afford to be thought of as only embracing leprechauns and other visual pastiche. Design in all its forms is an essential means of busting the stereotypes. As King explains, Ireland's relative lack of industrialization in the 19th century, combined with an emphasis on agricultural production and a political culture of economic protectionism up until the late 1950s, caused slower design activity in Ireland than in other countries. "[Because of] this process of playing 'catch-up' with other countries, Irish design is less concerned with originality of form than with adapting and localizing European and American influences." Still, Ireland has had some notable design form-givers. The Kilkenny Design Workshops (1963 to 1988) was the first government-sponsored design agency in the world and the model was later exported to developing countries such as the Philippines, which in itself was a unique and inspired concept. "KDW was established because our design professions had not grown organically and was a government-sponsored intervention to stimulate design activity that brought in design expertise from Europe and Britain to work collaboratively with Irish manufacturers and craft-based companies," King writes. The Irish-born architect and furniture designer Eileen Gray produced some of the most innovative and iconic designs of the early 20th century—"so much so," King claims, "that le Corbusier ensured that much of her work was attributed to him." However, King and Sisson deliberately did not include Gray, because "much of her work was done in France (she emigrated from Ireland at the age of 18), and we wanted to focus on the experience within Ireland." What's more, she mostly designed for herself or rich patrons, "so her work would not have engaged with a mass audience." Even singling out these individuals and organizations, King says, only scratches the surface. "Because of our focus on design activity within Ireland there is no discussion of Irish designers who emigrated and had significant influence abroad, for example the architect Kevin Roche who worked for Eero Saarinen and founded Kevin Roche and John Dinkaloo Associates, or the engineer Peter Rice who founded RFR and worked the Sydney Opera House and the Pompidou Centre." She adds, "There are also many other discrete and interesting narratives to be explored that could not be covered here that evidence the strong links between Ireland and the US. My personal favorites include: the attempt to manufacture an Irish Cadillac-type car, called 'The Shamrock' in Monaghan in the 1950s; Henry Ford's establishment of a Ford factory in Cork in 1917; and fashion designer Sybil Connolly's dress designs for Jacqueline Kennedy one of which she wore for her official White House portrait." But where does Irish design excel now? Arguably, in areas related to animation and film-making—including costume, production design, concept design—and Irish designers have won, or been nominated for, a number of Academy Awards in these fields. "I think that in many ways Irish design activity emerged against the odds (limited industrialization, insular political visions etc). Consequently Irish design has not always been the most innovative, but I think that the growth of Irish design activity reflects a high degree of pragmatism and tenacity that in many ways reflects the Irish psyche. It has also been far more engaged with and aware of sources outside of the British Isles than may be realized." So just maybe, Dublin will become the next World Design Capital. May the best city win. Steven Heller: writer, critic, School of Visual Arts, New York; former Art Director at the New York Times.

It is a very valuable piece of scholarship introducing readers outside Ireland to a design history that is largely unknown to us. It is also a very handsome and nicely produced volume. I hope you can get the book distributed far and wide. Rick Poynor: writer, critic, founding editor of Eye and co-founder of Design Observer.

After independence, the ‘bankrupt, scarred’ Irish State used design and our ‘visual culture’ to redefine the country and attract tourism. Faced with similar problems today, can design save us? CAN DESIGN save Ireland? We’re facing, we’re constantly told, a crisis of historic proportions. The scale of the crisis may indeed be historic, but it’s certainly not the first time we’ve been here. Back in 1922, when the Free State was established, Ireland “was bankrupt, its people psychologically scarred, romantic nationalist sentiment had been exposed as largely ideologically hollow . . . ” Sound familiar? This description, by Linda King, is included in a new book, Ireland, Design and Visual Culture: Negotiating Modernity 1922-1992 , which describes how Irish identity emerged through, and was shaped by, design and visual culture. But what exactly is visual culture? Ireland is justly famed for its literature, and also for music. Whether it is the words of our Nobel laureates, the songs of U2, or the beat of the bodhrán; Irish sounds and voices travel well. Less so our visual culture, even though visual culture forms one of the strongest, though least-acknowledged components of what our sense of Ireland is. A somewhat clumsy and off-putting term for the made things we can see around us, visual culture is made up of logos, signs and symbols, use of colour, typefaces, posters, architecture, craft, design, and even the mundane and utilitarian objects that we see and use often enough to ignore, such as lamp posts, park benches, window panes and door handles. All countries have their own visual cultures, and the visual signals that are sent are subtle, yet pervasive, such as with as the choice of plain modern typeface (Johnston Sans) and simple logo for the London Underground, and the evocative lettering of the old Paris Metro signs. Each is just a small intervention, and yet shapes the different atmosphere of the two public transport systems. Some of our own visual culture in Ireland is the result of an organic development, but a great deal is the result of deliberate decisions made at the time of the foundation of the State. REDEFINING THE NEW IRELAND included painting red post boxes green, creating the Great Seal with its Celtic design and harp logo, designing stamps, and of course, designing the new Irish currency. Tourism was quickly identified as a vital source of income, second only to agriculture. Artists including Paul Henry were commissioned to create images for posters that showed a misty rural Ireland of rugged coastlines and soft days. Tourist imagery is particularly potent. For many, it provided the symbols of a place that had come to represent Ireland while also defining it. Most of us have decided on a holiday on the basis of a poster or brochure image, maybe of a glorious beach, snow-covered mountains, or a city’s iconic buildings. These come to not only stand for the whole, but become the whole in that we ignore those parts of the country or city that don’t live up to the poster image. Paris becomes the Louvre, Arc de Triomphe and Seine; while, following the Synthesis of Reports on Tourism from 1950 (which became known as the Christenberry Report), references such as “the friendliness of the people, castles and fishing”, came to define Ireland. These, as well as Paul Henry’s landscapes which so perfectly fitted the de Valerian ideal of what the country should look like, created a self-fulfilling prophecy of the Ireland tourists come to find. Exploring these ideas in the Irish context, Ireland, Design and Visual Culture is far more fascinating to the interested lay reader than its rather academic title and various chapter headings might suggest. In some instances the language is needlessly complex. Nevertheless, the arguments and research are worth reading. Oddly enough for a book about visual culture (possibly this is another self-fulfilling prophecy) it is somewhat over-designed, although the extensive use of orange is a telling example of how far we have come since the first IRA ceasefire in 1994 led to a process of reinclusion of that colour in our visual language “down south”. Through the book’s pages, we can see how Irish artists and designers created and shaped a sense of Ireland, both at home and abroad, just as much as did the writings of Joyce, Synge or O’Casey. As Luke Gibbons points out in his introduction, unfortunately titled “Modalities of the Visible”, after Harry Boland was shot during the Civil War and cameras were confiscated at Glasnevin Cemetery for his burial, Jack B Yeats created a painting that not only memorialised the event, but mythologised it too. Artists were also involved in forming the identity of such massive infrastructural projects as the Shannon hydroelectric scheme at Ardnacrusha, and Seán Keating’s paintings of the heroic Irish workers defined a sense of the project that was somewhat at odds with its realities, including its German design. The strong international influence on emerging Irish design is shown throughout the book. In some instances, such as with Norah McGuinness’s and Harry Kernoff’s German Expressionist-influenced set designs for the Peacock and Gate theatres, these were the result of a disillusionment that set in with the early ideals of the State in the late 1920s. In others, such as the Dutch design of Aer Lingus Posters, or the brilliant internationalism of the Kilkenny Design Workshops project – which brought in international craftspeople to work with Irish makers, thus creating something completely new – were due to a growing sense of internationalism (and not a little belief that we couldn’t make it on our own). As the book also shows, myth-making is not something that is confined to the past, and all constructions of national identity and of tourism sell icons of something that may not exist as we know it. Nevertheless in today’s Ireland in which many of these first symbols of the new State, such as the currency, are gone, there is an argument to be made for an incorporation of a stronger identity through design into plans for our economic and social recovery. “Against a background of civil unrest and fading dreams the concrete expression of political and cultural change was made tangible and quantifiable by the apparatus of State authority,” writes King. State authority may be too tarnished these days, but design may yet help to save the day. Through the various essays in the book, one is struck by the contradictions inherent in the making of the State, but also the energy, ideals and vision that were part of it. Reading about the Aer Lingus tourism posters of the 1950s, one discovers An Tóstal, the Festival of the Welcomes. Set up in 1953, its aim was to target the Irish-American diaspora to boost visitor numbers – and yes, we’re still at it. There is an increasing level of rhetoric in academia concerning multi-disciplinary approaches, and interactions with the world beyond the ivory tower. Books like this are useful and vital contributions to conversations that reach way beyond the walls of our universities. Just don’t let the titles put you off.