Opinion: Britain is Producing Far Too Many Designers

Something rather interesting has happened in the past six months: the government is talking about 'creativity' again. Having remained rather quiet on the subject since the demise of 'Cool Britannia', it is now telling anyone who will listen that Britain's creative industries are essential in the struggle to keep pace with the world economy, and China in particular. As Gordon Brown triumphantly said at the opening of the recent London design festival:

"In the new economy, success does not happen happen by accident - it happens by design... the greatness of Britain is not just our belief in liberty, our tolerance, our internationalism, our strong sense of fair play, but also our creativity."

On the surface he's absolutely right - as he pointed out, in the last eight years the "creative and design industries" have been growing at twice the rate of the rest of the economy, job creation by three times and exports almost four times. But bubbling below the surface are some significant problems, and none more so than in education. The 'creative economy' may be expanding, but not nearlyfast enough to soak up the graduates leaving our universities each summer.

The number of undergraduates studying design and creative-arts related subjects has risen from 87,170 in 1996-97 to 140,195 in 2003-04. You don't need to be Gordon Brown to work out that however many jobs the creative industries generate most of these graduates will struggle to find relevant work.

There are a number of reasons for this explosion of interest in design. If punk meant you only had to learn three chords to start a band, then technology has convinced a new generation that all they need is an Apple Mac to become a designer. The media have played a key role in glamourising a subject once thought of as a bit dull: walk into WH Smith and you'll see an entire section devoted to design and lifestyle, telling us how to improve our homes and beautify our gardens. And for some students, design school opens a whole new life - hanging out in Hoxton, record bag slung over shoulder and horn-rimmed glasses perched precariously on nose. But for most this will remain an aspiration.

This new-found obsession with lifestyle has also given rise to a new star system. Thanks to a combination of talent, aggressive PR and an acquiescent media, the likes of Peter Saville, Karim Rashid and Zaha Hadid have become role models for a generation of aspiring designers. And universities seem happy to exploit this. As Christopher Frayling, rector of the Royal College of Art, once explained to me:

"Our system in art education is bound up by the star system. Colleges market themselves on their greatest hits and dangle that role model in front of the students. I don't know any other sector of education that advertises itself on its superstars."

It isn't all one-way traffic, of course. Yes, we educate far too many designers, but the market needs to examine its prejudices. Is a design degree really less useful than a history or English qualification? If the future of our economy does rest on creativity, then surely it is a good idea to employ people with relevant qualifications.

Frustrated design educators such as Frayling describe a sort of snobbery that pervades Britain's business sector, a feeling that an art school graduate is inferior to someone with an 'academic' qualification. In my experience teaching a first-year graphic design course at Camberwell College of Arts, nothing could be further from the truth. Almost all the students I encounter are hard-working and intellectually curious. Not all of them are destined to become professional designers, but during the year they are taught to work to a brief, understand markets, present work in front of peers and hit deadlines. They even have to write the odd essay. It strikes me as pretty good training for later life.

Nevertheless, despite the chancellor's entreaties, a potential timebomb is ticking. Both universities and the market must change before it is too late and an entire generation is sold short. Colleges need to cull the number of courses they provide and start presenting an accurate picture of them to would-be applicants. On the other side of the fence, employers should start asking what owning a 'creative' degree really means, because graduates of these subjects often have rather more to offer than the ability to knock up a rather fetching table. Only then should we start bragging about our creativity.

This piece is reproduced from the Winter 2005 issue of the Quarter, a NESTA/Prospect magazine initiative:

http://www.nesta.org.uk

http://www.prospect-magazine.co.uk