Photo: Dwight Carter
I am having a very difficult time writing this tribute to my friend and colleague Véronique Vienne, who died of stomach cancer last week at the age of 82. There was only one Véronique and it is utterly impossible for me to unpack and repackage her into a neat obituary. A professional biography does not do her justice. Suffice to say she was an art director, teacher, essayist and critic—an intensely knowledgeable and thoughtful one, whose intelligence engulfed her like a fine silk cape everywhere she’d go. When she taught in the SVA MFA Design program, she’d bring students into her intellectual universe as if through a hypnotic force. She had Mary Astor beauty, an accent that could melt butter, and wit that cut through any resistance. She spoke assuredly about counter cultures and movements—especially the Situationists, who were among her faves—and their impact on our mainstream, not as pedantic historical chronologies, but in a conversational manner that opened her students to a profound dose of enlightenment.
Photographs from various SVA MFA Design critiques. VV and I review student’s thesis book.
I cannot recall how or where we met. I just remember asking her to teach after being put into one of those VV trances. It was not an out-of-body experience but more like a wave of fresh wisdom had washed over me as we spoke. She proposed to teach a class of old and new swirling ideas that would result in tangible outcomes. It wasn’t theory, per se, but rather a kind of cultural philosophy that wove strands of social engagement with entrepreneurial activity to bring students up to speed on how their own design acts and objects had consequences that could alter behavior.
I always happily anticipated the night that VV came to teach, and was always at least 30 minutes early so we could simply talk about different kinds or personal and general things. She was easy to confide in, critical but not judgmental. It was during one of those moments before class that I asked her to collaborate with me on the first book of five that we did together. These were completely joyful experiences. VV brought a weary-of-cliche attitude to everything we did. I’d create an initial concept and outline of what a book like Citizen Designer or 100 Ideas That Changed Graphic Design should contain, and she would choose where her contributions—essays, interviews, assignments—would fit in. They were usually unexpected. She’d go abstract where I’d go formal; she’d go to the edge where I’d slide into the center. Soon I began to think in Vienne-ize, leaning toward directions of design history and practice that I had thought too arcane. She had injected her intellect like grout into the empty spaces of my brain.
VV was always amused by how I recruited collaborators, a process to which she was subjected. She wrote in a profile of me (titled “Steven Heller Needs You” in Graphis 378), “For each title he would propose to a publisher, he had a co-author in mind—a colleague, a former student, a friend in the business, or a designer whose work he particularly admired. He’d call beforehand and pitch his ideas to him or her. At first the person would refuse, but Heller would be insistent.”
I was deeply appreciative and moved that she wrote it, as she had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s a few years earlier. To see that it is the only example of her writing on her own website is indescribable.
VV devoted serious time to each student.
As for Parkinson’s. I was diagnosed with it, too. While we shared many ideas about things that mattered to each of us, now we shared a disease. Prior to her diagnosis, VV and I frequently would interview each other via email, both planned and impromptu, published as intros to our books or speculative for some reason or another. We would throw out questions in a round robin fashion and we gave ourselves a few hours to a day for a reply—and then we’d ask the other a follow-up query. When I learned about her PD, I suggested we do one of these sessions. She agreed. I started the volley but she led the way. Her depth of self-insight was so much deeper than mine; I felt invigorated just keeping up. After we concluded, I said it was too good not to share with a few confidants, and sent a copy to Tom Bodkin at The New York Times. He said it should be published, and sent it to an editor of the “Well” section. With a few edits, it was printed on the same day I had my regular PD exam at the hospital. I was proud it worked out, but happier all the more because VV was content with our penultimate collaboration.
A few months later I started a new book with my SVA colleague Molly Heintz, The Education of a Design Writer, which comes out this spring. I hadn’t heard from VV during that time and hoped that nothing was amiss. Eventually, she emailed and we scheduled a Zoom call. She looked great and sounded good, despite complaints of certain Parkinsonian symptoms. I hesitated to ask her my No. 1 question: Would she write something for the new book? I expected the answer would be no. I got neither yes or no, and let it be. Two months later I received a beautifully composed essay titled “Good Design at Its Worst,” a gem—perfect Vienne. Not a single edit was needed. In light of her later illness, it is a treasured gift.
VV congratulates a former MFA Design student.
On Nov. 14, I received this email (excerpted):
In the last three months, I have had my share of worries, health wise.
I was exhausted and assaulted with various miseries, thinking that it was due to Parkinson’s (the end of the PD honeymoon as they call it). But it turned out to be peritoneal cancer. … I am starting an aggressive treatment of chemo next week, and hopeful it will stop this particular train wreck on its tracks.
I am supposed to be a fighter, right? That’s what everyone reminds me of. I am cast by my entourage of friends and loved ones as a role model—easier said than done! But I’ll try to oblige.
Nothing would cheer me more than getting news from your side of PD—and your side of the Atlantic. How are you recovering from the shock of the elections? How is your health? Are you writing? Any new exciting projects? Will the book for which I contributed the … piece be published soon? What sort of involvement are you keeping with SVA? Etc, etc.
Give my love to Louise.
Your little French friend,
Véronique
I don’t think she’d mind that I shared some of that email. It shows her resilience and sense of humor in the face of, well, shit!
The mission of her entire class at SVA, put simply, came down to an essential discipline: Literacy. I’m taking the following excerpt out of context, but the meaning is not altered. She wrote in the Graphis article:
“Today, literacy is considered the most reliable indicator of a person’s chances of survival. Over the 12 years of follow-up, readers experience a 20% reduction in risk of mortality compared to non-readers. In other words, today, those who own a library card will live longer than those who don’t. … Your level of literacy is your destiny.”
Given the veracity of that statement, VV should have lived until 100. With all she’s left behind, I have no doubt that she will.
VV,, Lita Talarico and I watch a student’s slide presentation before the age of “digital decks”.
The post The Daily Heller: Véronique Vienne Was One of a Kind appeared first on PRINT Magazine.