Who -really- was Alejandro Malofiej? / Quién fue -realmente- Alejandro Malofiej?
Lee el texto en español al final de este artículo.
By Alberto Cairo
www.thefunctionalart.com
www.elartefuncional.com
A text from Periodismo con futuro
Any exploration into the world of infographic journalism will, sooner or later, lead to Alejandro Malofiej. It might happen during a conversation with a more senior colleague, or on seeing one of the many books on the international infographics awards which bear his name, or perhaps your boss might suggest that you attend the professional summit which has been held every March for the past twenty years at the University of Navarra.
You might then ask, as I did some fifteen years ago, who really was Alejandro Malofiej. The most likely answer is brief and not very illuminating: he was an Argentinian cartographer at the time in which maps, statistics and diagrams were created with pen and ink, not emerging on a screen through the alchemy of algorithms and vectors. It is indeed a paradox that the majority of visual journalists today know so little about one of the most important patriarchs of the profession.
To this I plead mea culpa: he who is ignorant of the past is not prepared to face the future. So I went to Gonzalo Peltzer, media consultant, blogger at Papers Papers with Toni Piqué, and author of one of the pioneering books in Spanish on infographic journalism, Periodismo iconográfico (Rialp, 1991). I asked him for an interview. Alongside University of Navarra Professor Miguel Urabayen and Juan Antonio Giner, Peltzer is the most knowledgeable person on the enigmatic Argentinian journalist-illustrator. I set out to find a text from 1995. I reproduce it here in its complete original form together with another article that has been substantially edited. They form a portrait, a fond remembrance and also attest that journalism, if it wants to have any sort of future at all, should conceive itself as primarily a calling and a craft.
Alejandro was not Malofiej
By Gonzalo Peltzer
When Alejandro Malofiej worked at the newspaper La Opinión in Buenos Aires, he would arrive everyday as if he were a Russian field marshal: he would greet the sandwich vendor with “good afternoon, Baron von Sandwich”. The man would invariably join in the joke and answer back “good afternoon Alejandro Malofiej Stoliaroff”. He loved those sandwiches, but he liked even more the mention of his mother’s family name.
Alejandro pronounced his name the Russian way: Malofiei. His parents, Simón Malofiej and Alejandra Stoliaroff, both White Russians born in what is today Belarus, met in Buenos Aires. Simón was the gardener at the house of a leading family from the country’s cattle ranching aristocracy where Alejandra also worked for a time as governess. Mother and son were known as Sacha and Sacho, Hispanicizing by gender the typical Russian nickname for Alejandro.
They lived in a town outside of Buenos Aires called Boulogne-Sur-Mer, in honor of the French city Jose de San Martin chose for his self-imposed exile. There, in the house at 1875 Rivera Street, Alejandro continued to live after the death of his parents, until in March 1,986 when Rodolfo Szelest brought him to his apartment on the tenth floor at 2,432 Peña Street, in downtown Buenos Aires, when he could no longer take care of himself. In November of that year Rodolfo and Carlos Savransky decided to place him in the Martinez nursing home where he could be better cared for.
Alejandro died of bladder cancer on 31 July, 1987, at CEMIC, a Buenos Aires hospital where he had been a patient since March. He was 49 years, without a single relative or any money. A priest at the Russian Orthodox Cathedral of Buenos Aires in Parque Lezama offered his church for the wake on the night of his death. He was buried in the cemetery of the Chacarita after receiving a funeral in Russian. This priest – named Valentín – had visited him every week during the last months of his illness. He shared with Alejandro a love of Russian polyphonic choirs that they would listen to together.
His house, his books on strategy, geography and history, and his paintings – all abstract – were left to his closest friends. They were Carlos Savransky, Rodolfo Szelest and Nora Potchar who received the little house that had been owned by Alejandro’s parents in Villa Gesell, a spa resort on the Atlantic coast 300 kilometers from Buenos Aires. Along with Szelest they had known each other since Carlos Pellegrini elementary school. The rest of his friends he had known since his uncompleted university studies in Architecture and Philosophy. From 1966 to 1983, with some rare and brief intervals, it was not easy to meet frequently at the University of Buenos Aires without arousing suspicion. On top of this, Architecture and Philosophy were the two departments with the greatest reputation having subversive leanings. The group found a place that the time was a solid alibi: they would meet at the headquarters of the YMCA (Young Men Christian Association) on Reconquista Street, an institution that Carlos Savransky had frequented since childhood.
Alejandro would become terribly infatuated, yet he was also terribly shy. He said he was especially attracted to married women from good families. Each of his friends referred to different women as Alejandro’s greatest love, depending on the particular moment in his life. The truth is that they were nearly all platonic love affairs. If there was someone who could truly be called the love of his life, it was Mercedes. She was a student of Philosophy. A very attractive woman who was by then divorced, she had two daughters and came from the highest social class in the country. One day Mercedes disappeared forever at the hands of the military. Hers is one of the thousands of unresolved cases from the Argentina in those years. And so, at least in this story, Mercedes has no last name.
He was a manic-depressive and always had a certain air of melancholy and sadness. His life was not easy; it had not been before and he knew it probably would not be so in the future. At the age of 21 he contracted Hodgkin’s disease (lymphatic cancer) which was partially cured following a difficult treatment. In addition, he was filled with old sorrows which he never wished to discuss. Hugo Garcia, a colleague of Alejandro at La Opinión, said he often saw him with tears in his eyes, as if he was lost in his troubles. When he spoke he always focused on something, staring at some spot in the distance for support.
Hilda Mouro and Carlos Savransky were the friends closest to Alejandro in the last two years of his life. They were with him until his death and provided him with all that he needed.
Carlos spent a whole nights together with him. It was he who donated nearly all of the originals of Alejandro’s work to the University of Navarra, through Hilda Mouro and Raúl Burzaco. He also had most of his paintings. Missing from Alejandro’s house of was one of his most precious treasures: a book on the military campaigns of Napoleon (David G. Chandler, The Campaigns of Napoleon, New York, 1966) presented to him by General Theophilus Goyret when he worked at the magazine Armas y Geoestrategia (Weapons and Geo-strategy). The maps of that book were a constant inspiration to Alejandro. It showed military movements in transparent overlays on geographical maps. Battles were shown as they evolved, hour by hour, with an amazing ease of comprehension and accuracy. Someone described Alejandro’s maps as cinematographic as the successive overlays of created the illusion of movement, like the frames of a motion picture.
He was a committed anarchist. He admired what he termed the Spanish Revolution in the way that others revere the French Revolution. “He was not a militant, he was contemplative,” said Savransky. He loved objects. He had an endearing relationship with revolutions, battles, weapons, maps, pipes, scarves and hats. Aesthetics, rather than ethics; he could perfectly combine being a disenfranchised Spanish style anarchist with the enviable appearance of an English dandy. He had an amazing collection of scarves that he always wore around his neck, even in the last days of his life, and he smoked a pipe with a rare flair and neatness uncommon in most smokers. Also, with people he certain dependence. His friends were like treasured possessions; so too was his mother and his constant reminiscences of her.
Alejandro had all the virtues and vices of a veteran newspaper man. But he did not write: he drew. He was not a frustrated militant. He was really a strategist with a deep knowledge of cartography. He was not exactly what we would today call an infographer. Not only because so few people used that coarse word then, but rather that he never drew anything for the newspapers that was not a map. If someone asked him to explain one of his maps, he would take hours to do so. Each map contained more information than could fit in all the pages of the newspapers in which they were published.
When his bosses would ask him to create a map to illustrate some event, him would quickly ask how much time he had to complete it. Be it hours or days, he would use all the time available up until the last minute. He would not stop until he had managed to include every necessary piece of information. One of his main resources was his immense library. He would talk again and again with the editors. He read all the news available regarding the piece he was working on searching for stories to explain the facts. He went to the bookstores of Buenos Aires to search for data, maps, uniforms, weapons. He would photocopy 10, 20, 300 silhouettes, patterns, contours (this was before the introduction of computers). He would draw again and again on tracing paper. He would paste and do touch ups until he achieved an original map as attractive as those of his book on Napoleon. If someone came up to take a look at his work, he would go crazy. The worst thing to do would be to ask when he would be finished. “I will never finish if people interrupt me every few minutes to ask me when will I finish,” he would answer angrily.
Although he did not travel a great deal, he knew about countries, nations, races, religions and cultures. He knew the weather at any time of the year at every place on earth. He knew that various military tactics depended on the rain, wind, daylight or darkness. He knew about tides and the phases of the moon, about monsoons, Ramadan, Greek Orthodox Easter and the celebration of Hanukkah. Anything could have an impact on the movements of the Viet Cong through the mountains of Cambodia, on a formation of tanks in the Iran-Iraq war, or operations of a British task force in the Falklands War. He would search for solutions pacing to and fro like a general at his command post. He would look at the map again and again, then resume pacing about as if he were upset, focusing on a problem that had to be solved, helped by deep puffs on his Balkan flavored pipe tobacco.
However he never knew how valuable his work was. He lived from hand to mouth. He would travel over 40 kilometers which took nearly an hour on a rickety train with a rather erratic schedule, Boulogne to Retiro, near the center of Buenos Aires. From there he still had to spend between 15 minutes to half an hour on a bus, depending on where he was working. The headquarters of La Opinión, taken over later by Tiempo Argentino, was on the other side of town, near the Victorino de la Plaza Bridge, where Velez Sarsfield Avenue crosses the Riachuelo River toward Avellaneda. He never drew a paycheck beyond what he needed to make ends meet and always the same amount. He never worked for more than the average salary of the newspaper he was at. Business was not his thing and certainly he could never have run a small kiosk or taxi.
Alejandro always asked about the size in which the maps he drew would be published. Once while working for the La Opinión newspaper, run by Jacobo Timerman, he was asked to work on a report regarding an Argentinian businessman had expressed his intentions to buy the Falkland Islands Company, the colonial company that owns more than 90% of the Falkland Islands. Alejandro drew an extraordinary map of the islands which showed the natural resources as well as the holdings of the company. It did not fit in the allocated space and was published at half the originally intended size. The next day Alejandro heatedly argued and shouted with Mario Diament, the managing editor until the editor-in-chief called him into his office. As he walked toward Timerman’s office, he went saying his farewells to his colleagues as if he were heading to the gallows, imagining that this would be his final day working at the paper. He emerged beaming; Timerman had complemented him. “If all journalists fought this hard for their articles, the newspaper would improve by at least 50%,” he had said and he repeated this to the entire staff.
One day in 1982 Miguel Urabayen appeared at the offices of the newspaper Tiempo Argentino. He had been invited by Pablo Sirven, one of his former students at the University of Navarra, who had contacted him during a visit to Buenos Aires. Upon arrival, Miguel began to leaf through the day’s newspaper. Pablo can still recall Miguel’s reaction on finding a map that took up almost a full Berliner format page of the newspaper. He opened his eyes wide and put his hand to his forehead as he asked in awe “who did this?” Alejandro was in a corner of the room, at his easel, with his pens and tracing sheets. Miguel came over and greeted him as if he were a hero, despite Miguel’s discovery of a minor error in the map: the battleship New Jersey was represented by the silhouette of a cruiser. After a brief, friendly discussion, Alejandro realized that there were indeed people in the world as passionate about maps as he was. When Miguel left the newspaper, they were already the best of friends. They continued their friendship despite the distances separating them.
From that moment on his colleagues noticed a certain gleam in Alejandro’s eyes. His work had been recognized. That what he so passionately created was considered truly interesting. His was not merely the work of yet another draftsman working at a paper where, like in nearly every other daily, everyone stays with what works best for them. Where grand informative works are thrown together with garbage, all sold at the same price the next day’s edition. His work was no longer ordinary and he began making maps more impressive than ever before. Miguel Urabayen deserves our special gratitude for helping Alejandro’s work transcend the borders of a country so far away. Alejandro’s relationship with Miguel was a great support to him. One day when he was feeling depressed and ill he phoned Miguel from the newspaper just to chat. They talked for a long time. It was one o’clock in the morning in Buenos Aires, a normal working time for a journalist of that era, but Spain is four hours ahead…
I knew the works of Alejandro Malofiej as yet another colleague, and reader, too, with a special interest in good journalism. I remember that in 1985 Juan Antonio Giner told me that these maps were outstanding. A few days later I had the chance to personally meet with Juan Antonio between classes at the School of Journalism of the newspaper Clarín. Apparently, Alejandro knew of my relationship with these teachers and the University. Ten years after his death, when looking for information about his life, I discovered that during his last months he had been trying to speak with me about the possibility of traveling to Pamplona to give a seminar. During those years I worked at a newspaper in the interior of Argentina, and it was not easy to go to Buenos Aires.
This story about Alejandro is not new. In 1995, I said a few, brief words at the closing dinner of the third Malofiej Awards which were later published in the book on the 1994/1995 Awards. What I said was incomplete and I knew it then but did not say so; I barely hinted at it. The Awards were very new and it seemed a good idea to let people know that Alejandro was not Malofiej. His father was not Simón, the Russian gardener at the house of an important family in Buenos Aires, but rather the aristocratic landowner, owner of this house where his mother had worked as a governess. His mother confessed this to him one awful day when he was a teenager. It was done. Alejandro lost his happiness and his good health and never recovered them.
Gonzalo Peltzer (Twitter: @ gpeltzer) is a media consultant. He has been an editor at several media companies in Argentina, Paraguay and Ecuador and professor at the University of Navarra. He is author of the books Periodismo iconográfico (1991) and Periodismo con pasión (1996).
Alberto Cairo (Twitter: @ albertocairo) is a professor of Visual Journalism at the University of Miami (INSERTAR ENLACE) and author of the books El arte funcional: infografía y visualización de información (2011) and Infografía 2.0: visualización interactiva de información en prensa (2008).
Comience a adentrarse en el mundo de la infografía periodística y, tarde o temprano, se topará con Alejandro Malofiej. Puede que suceda durante una conversación con algún colega experimentado; o puede que lo vea en alguno de los libros que recopilan los premios internacionales de infografía que llevan su nombre; o tal vez su jefe le proponga asistir a la cumbre de profesionales que, desde hace veinte años se celebra en la Universidad de Navarra en marzo.
Preguntará entonces, como yo hice hace una década y media, quién fue realmente Alejandro Malofiej. La respuesta más probable será lacónica y poco esclarecedora: un cartógrafo argentino de la época en la que mapas, estadísticas y diagramas se forjaban con tinta y pluma, no emergían en pantalla gracias a la alquimia de algoritmos y vectores. Es una paradoja que una mayoría de periodistas visuales hoy sepa tan poco de uno de los más importantes patriarcas de la profesión.
Entono el mea culpa: quien no conoce el pasado no puede encarar el futuro en condiciones. Así que acudí a Gonzalo Peltzer, consultor de medios de comunicación, bloguero en Papers Papers junto a Toni Piqué, y autor de uno de los libros pioneros sobre infografía periodística en español, Periodismo iconográfico (Rialp, 1991). Le pedí una entrevista: junto a Miguel Urabayen, profesor de la Universidad de Navarra, y Juan Antonio Giner, Peltzer es quien más sabe sobre el enigmático periodista-dibujante argentino. Me propuso recuperar un texto de 1995. Lo reproduzco íntegro con alguna que otra modificación muy sustanciosa. Es una semblanza, un cálido recuerdo y una prueba de que el periodismo, si quiere tener algún futuro, debe concebirse a sí mismo ante todo como pasión y oficio.
Alejandro no era Malofiej
Por Gonzalo Peltzer
Cuando Alejandro Malofiej trabajaba en el diario La Opinión de Buenos Aires, entraba todos los días como si fuera un mariscal de los Romanov. Saludaba al vendedor de sandwiches con un: “―Buenas tardes, Barón von Sándwich”. El hombre le seguía invariablemente la broma: “―Buenas tardes Alejandro Malofiej Stoliaroff”. Le encantaban los sandwiches, pero más le gustaba que mencionaran el apellido de su madre.
Alejandro pronunciaba su apellido en ruso: malofiei. Sus padres, Simón Malofiej y Alejandra Stoliaroff, ambos rusos blancos, nacidos en la actual Bielorusia, se conocieron en Buenos Aires. Simón era el jardinero de la casa de una antigua familia de la aristocracia ganadera del país, en la que Alejandra trabajó una temporada como institutriz. Madre e hijo se trataban de Sacha y Sacho, castellanizando los géneros del típico sobrenombre ruso de los Alejandros.
Vivieron en una localidad del Gran Buenos Aires llamada Boulogne-Sur-Mer, en honor de la ciudad francesa que eligió para su autoexilio José de San Martín. Allí, en la casa de la calle Rivera 1.875, siguió viviendo Alejandro después de la muerte de sus padres, hasta que en marzo de 1986 Rodolfo Szelest se lo llevó a su departamento del décimo piso de la calle Peña 2.432, en el centro de Buenos Aires, porque ya no podía cuidarse solo. En noviembre de ese año Rodolfo y Carlos Savransky decidieron ingresarlo en un geriátrico de Martínez donde podían atenderlo mejor.
Alejandro murió de cáncer de vejiga el 31 de julio de 1987, en el CEMIC, un hospital de Buenos Aires donde estuvo internado desde marzo. Tenía 49 años, ni un solo pariente, y nada de dinero. Un pope de la catedral ortodoxa rusa de Buenos Aires de Parque Lezama ofreció su iglesia para velarlo la noche de su muerte. Lo enterraron en el cementerio de la Chacarita después de oficiar un funeral en ruso. Este sacerdote ―se llamaba Valentín― lo visitó todas las semanas durante los últimos meses de su enfermedad. Compartía con Alejandro el gusto por los coros polifóniconicos rusos que oían juntos.
Su casa, sus libros de estrategia, de geografía y de historia, y sus pinturas ―todas abstractas― quedaron en manos de sus amigos más cercanos. Ellos son Carlos Savransky, Rodolfo Szelest y Nora Potchar que se quedó con una casita que ya tenían los padres de Alejandro en Villa Gesell, un balneario de la costa atlántica a 300 kilómetros de Buenos Aires. Con Szelest se conocían desde el colegio Carlos Pellegrini. El resto de sus amigos le duraban desde las dos carreras que cursó y no terminó: Arquitectura y Filosofía. Entre 1966 y 1983, con algunos raros y cortos intervalos, en la Universidad de Buenos Aires no era fácil reunirse seguido sin despertar sospechas. Para colmo Arquitectura y Filosofía eran carreras con fama de subversivas. El grupo encontró un lugar que era a la vez una coartada: se reunía en la sede de la YMCA (Young Men Christian Association) de la calle Reconquista. Carlos Savransky frecuentaba desde chico esta institución.
Alejandro era terriblemente enamoradizo, y espantosamente tímido. Decía que le atraían especialmente las mujeres casadas, y de buena posición. Sus amigos mencionan a mujeres distintas como el gran amor de Alejandro, según el momento de su vida. La verdad es que fueron casi todos amores platónicos. Si hubo alguien a quien llamar el amor de su vida fue Mercedes. Era una estudiante de la Facultad de Filosofía. Una mujer muy atractiva que ya entonces estaba divorciada. Tenía dos hijas y pertenecía a la clase más alta del país. Un buen día Mercedes desapareció para siempre en manos de los militares. Es una de las miles de historias pendientes de la Argentina de aquellos años. Por eso Mercedes no tiene apellido en esta historia.
Era ciclotímico. Siempre lo acompañaba un aire melancólico y triste. Su vida no era fácil. No lo había sido antes y sabía que probablemente no lo sería en el futuro. A los 21 años contrajo la enfermedad de Hodgkin (cáncer del sistema linfático) de la que se curó a medias después de un duro tratamiento. Además, cargaba con antiguas tristezas que no pensaba revelar. Contaba Hugo García, colega de Alejandro en La Opinión, que a menudo se lo veía con lágrimas en los ojos, como ruminado sus angustias. Siempre hablaba concentrado en algo, con la mirada perdida en un apoyo lejano.
Hilda Mouro y Carlos Savransky fueron los amigos que estuvieron más cerca de Alejandro en los dos últimos años de su vida. Lo acompañaron hasta momentos antes de su muerte. Se ocupaban de todo lo que le hiciera falta.
Carlos pasó alguna noche entera con él. Él fue quien realmente donó casi todos los originales de Alejandro a la Universidad de Navarra, a través de Hilda Mouro y Raúl Burzaco. Además posee la mayoría de sus cuadros. Desapareció de la casa de Alejandro uno de sus más preciados tesoros: el libro sobre las campañas militares de Napoleón (David G. Chandler, The Campaigns of Napoleon, Nueva York, 1966) que le regalara el general Teófilo Goyret, cuando trabajaba en la revista Armas y Geoestrategia. En los mapas de ese libro se inspiraba Alejandro continuamente. Allí aparecen los movimientos militares en transparencias superpuestas sobre el mapa geográfico. Las batallas transcurren en el tiempo hora tras hora con una facilidad de comprensión y una precisión asombrosas. Alguien definió a los mapas de Alejandro como cinematográficos porque superponiendo los de días sucesivos podía crearse ilusión de movimiento, como en los fotogramas de una película.
Era profundamente anarquista. Admiraba lo que él llamaba la Revolución Española como otros hablan de la Revolución Francesa. “No era un militante, era un contemplativo” comenta Savransky. Amaba objetos. Era entrañable su relación con las revoluciones, las batallas, las armas, los mapas, las pipas, los pañuelos y las gorras. Estética, más que ética. Por eso podía conjugar perfectamente su condición de anarquista desheredado al estilo español con un envidiable aspecto de dandy inglés. Tenía una colección estupenda de pañuelos que usaba siempre anudados al cuello, hasta en los últimos días de su vida, y manejaba la pipa con una especial destreza y pulcritud, poco común en los fumadores. También con las personas tenía esa dependencia. Sus amigas y sus amigos eran como cosas de su propiedad, a las que adoraba. También su madre, y sus constantes recuerdos de ella.
Alejandro tenía todas las virtudes y los vicios de los viejos periodistas. Pero no escribía: dibujaba. No era un militar frustrado. Era realmente un estratega y un profundo conocedor de la cartografía. No era propiamente lo que hoy llamaríamos un infografista. No sólo porque entonces casi nadie usaba esa palabra tan fea, sino porque nunca dibujó periodísticamente nada que no fueran mapas. Si alguien le pedía que explicara verbalmente uno de sus mapas, necesitaba horas. Cada uno de ellos contenía tanta información que no hubiera cabido en todas las páginas del periódico en el que se publicaba.
En cuanto sus jefes le pedían un mapa para ilustrar un acontecimiento, preguntaba rápidamente para cuándo debía estar terminado. Fueran horas o días, los aprovechaba hasta el último minuto. No paraba hasta conseguir toda la información que debía volcar en él. Una de sus principales fuentes era su vastísima biblioteca. Hablaba una y otra vez con los redactores. Leía todas las noticias que llegaban sobre el hecho que debía documentar. Buscaba las historias que explicaban esos hechos. Salía a las librerías de viejo de Buenos Aires a buscar datos, mapas, uniformes, armas. Hacía copiar en fotomecánica 10, 20, 300 siluetas, tramas, contornos (no eran épocas de computadoras). Dibujaba una y otra vez sobre papel de calco. Pegaba y retocaba hasta conseguir un original tan atractivo como un mapa de aquellos del libro de Napoleón. Si alguien se arrimaba a ojear su trabajo, se ponía como loco. Lo peor era preguntarle para cuándo estaría terminado: “―Nunca lo voy a terminar si me interrumpen a cada rato para preguntar cuándo lo termino”, contestaba furioso.
Aunque había viajado poco, sabía de países, pueblos, razas, religiones y culturas. Conocía el clima en cada momento del año en cada lugar del planeta. Sabía que las distintas tácticas militares dependían de las lluvias, de los vientos, de las horas de luz o de la oscuridad. Sabía de mareas y de lunas. De monzones. De ramadanes, de pascuas griegas y de la fiesta del Janucá. Cualquier factor podía intervenir en los movimientos de los vietcongs a través de las montañas de Camboya, en una formación de tanques en la guerra entre Irán e Irak, o en las operaciones de la task-force británica en la guerra de las Malvinas. Buscaba las soluciones caminando de un lado para otro como un general en su estado mayor. Miraba el mapa una y otra vez y volvía a dar vueltas como contrariado, concentrado en el problema que debía resolver, ayudado por buenas bocanadas de su pipa con tabaco de aroma balcánico.
Nunca supo, en cambio, cuánto valía su trabajo. Vivía al día. Viajaba más de 40 kilómetros durante casi una hora en un tren destartalado, de horarios más bien borrosos, de Boulogne a Retiro, cerca del centro de Buenos Aires. Desde allí todavía debía pasar entre 15 minutos y media hora en un autobús, según el lugar de trabajo. La sede de La Opinión, heredada después por Tiempo Argentino, estaba en la otra punta de la ciudad, muy cerca del puente Victorino de la Plaza, donde la avenida Vélez Sárfield cruza el Riachuelo hacia Avellaneda. No cobraba más que un sueldo a fin de mes y siempre el mismo. Jamás cobró por hacer un trabajo para nadie que no fuera el salario del medio para el que trabajaba. Probablemente lo suyo no eran los negocios, y seguramente era incapaz de administrar un pequeño quiosco o un taxi.
Alejandro preguntaba siempre por el tamaño al que se publicarían los mapas que dibujaba. Cuando trabajaba para el diario La Opinión de Jacobo Timerman, había que publicar la información de que un empresario argentino había manifestado su intención de comprar la Falkland Island Company, la empresa colonial propietaria de más de 90 por ciento de la extensión de las Islas Malvinas. Alejandro dibujó un estupendo mapa de las islas con sus recursos naturales y las explotaciones de la compañía. No alcanzó el espacio y se publicó a la mitad del tamaño para el que se lo pidieron. Al día siguiente Alejandro discutió acaloradamente y a los gritos con el Redactor Jefe, Mario Diament, hasta que fue llamado por el director a su despacho. Cuando se encaminaba hacia la oficina de Timerman iba despidiéndose de los colegas como quien sube al cadalso, suponiendo que era el último día de trabajo para el diario. Volvió radiante; Timerman lo había felicitado: “si todos los periodistas pelearan así por sus artículos, el diario mejoraría por lo menos el 50 por ciento”, le dijo, y lo hizo saber a toda la redacción.
Un día de 1982 Miguel Urabayen apareció por la redacción del diario Tiempo Argentino. Había sido invitado por Pablo Sirvén, uno de sus ex-alumnos en la Universidad de Navarra, que le haría una nota aprovechando su paso por Buenos Aires. Nada más llegar, Miguel se puso a ojear el periódico de ese día. Pablo recuerda todavía los gestos de Miguel al encontrarse con un mapa que ocupaba casi una página competa del tamaño berlinés del diario. Cuenta que abrió los ojos como platos y se llevó la mano a la frente mientras preguntaba con admiración “―¿quién ha hecho esto?”. En un rincón estaba Alejandro, sobre su caballete, con sus plumines y sus hojas de calco. Miguel se acercó y lo saludó como quien conoce a un prócer. Para colmo Miguel descubrió un pequeño error en ese mapa: el acorazado New Jersey estaba representado por la silueta de un crucero. Luego de una amable y breve discusión Alejandro descubrió que había en el mundo gente tan apasionada como él por los mapas informativos. Cuando Miguel dejó el diario eran ya amigos del alma. Continuaron esa amistad a pesar de la distancia.
Cuentan sus colegas del diario que a partir de aquel momento apareció un brillo especial en los ojos de Alejandro. Habían reconocido su trabajo. Eso que él hacía con pasión interesaba de veras. No era sólo el trabajo de uno más, en una redacción en la que, como en casi todas, cada uno está en lo suyo. En la que se mezclan inadvertidamente la grandes piezas informativas con la basura, vendidas todas al mismo precio al día siguiente. Su trabajo perdió rutina, y empezó a hacer los mapas más fantásticos que se le conocen. Hay que agradecer especialmente a Miguel Urabayen que el trabajo de Alejandro haya trascendido las fronteras de un país que queda cerca del fin del mundo. Tanto lo ayudó esta relación con Miguel, que un día en que se sentía especialmente deprimido y enfermo lo llamó por teléfono desde la redacción del diario, sólo para conversar con él. Estuvieron un buen rato hablando. Era la una de la madrugada en Buenos Aires, una hora normal para un periodista de entonces, pero España está cuatro horas más adelante en el planeta…
Conocía los trabajos de Alejandro Malofiej como un colega más, lector también, con un especial interés por el buen periodismo. Recuerdo que en 1985 Juan Antonio Giner me dijo que esos mapas eran excepcionales. A los pocos días tuve ocasión de conocerlo personalmente junto con Juan Antonio entre un par de clases de la Escuela de Periodismo del diario Clarín. Por lo visto, Alejandro conocía mi relación con estos profesores y con la Universidad. Diez años después de su muerte, buscando datos sobre su vida, supe que durante los meses siguientes me estuvo buscando para hablar conmigo sobre la posibilidad de viajar a Pamplona a dictar un seminario. Por esos años yo trabajaba en un diario del interior de la Argentina, y no era fácil encontrarme en Buenos Aires.
Esta historia de Alejandro no es nueva. La leí, palabras más palabras menos, en la cena de clausura de la tercera edición de los premios Malofiej, en 1995 y se publicó en el libro de los premios 1994/1995. Está incompleta y lo sabía entonces pero no lo dije: apenas lo insinué. El premio estaba muy nuevo y no parecía una buena idea que se supiera que Alejandro no era Malofiej. Su padre no era Simón, el jardinero ruso de la casa principal de Buenos Aires, sino el aristócrata terrateniente, dueño de la casa principal en la que su madre había trabajado como institutriz. Su madre se lo contó un mal día de su adolescencia. Ya era tarde. Entonces Alejandro perdió la alegría y la salud y nunca las recuperó.
Gonzalo Peltzer (Twitter: @gpeltzer) es consultor de medios de comunicación. Ha sido director de diversos medios de comunicación en Argentina, Paraguay y Ecuador y profesor en la Universidad de Navarra. Es autor de los libros Periodismo iconográfico (1991) y Periodismo con pasión (1996).
Alberto Cairo (Twitter: @albertocairo) es profesor de Periodismo visual en la Universidad de Miami y autor de los libros El arte funcional: infografía y visualización de información (2011) e Infografía 2.0: visualización interactiva de información en prensa (2008).
Entries deadline extended till February, 17th / Presenta tus trabajos hasta
el 17 de febrero
SND-E has extended a whole week Malofiej 20 Awards deadline, so now entries will be received till February 17th without penalities. Sending data will be taken as real limit by the organization. Good luck!
La SND-E ha ampliado una semana completa el límite de tiempo para entregar los trabajos participantes en los premios Malofiej 20. Así, los concursantes podrán presentar su material hasta el próximo viernes 17 de febrero sin ser penalizados. Para comprobar el cumplimiento del plazo la organización tendrá en cuenta la fecha de envío del paquete. Gracias por vuestra paciencia. Buena suerte.
The program – fresh from the oven! ¡Recién salido del horno!
The program is here!! And they are all there: Holmes, Bloch, Christie, Cairo, Coenenberg, Gerdes, Kirk, Kosara, Mason, McGhee, Peçanha, Peltzer, Pontis, Rogers, Serra, Stefaner, Tascón, de Torres, Vande Moere, Velasco… the best of the best, all together for Malofiej20.
¡¡¡Aquí está el programa!!! Y en él encontramos a todos: Holmes, Bloch, Christie, Cairo, Coenenberg, Gerdes, Kirk, Kosara, Mason, McGhee, Peçanha, Peltzer, Pontis, Rogers, Serra, Stefaner, Tascón, de Torres, Vande Moere, Velasco… Lo mejor de lo mejor de la infografía, juntos en Malofiej 20.
Early registration for the Show Don’t Tell! and the Infographics Summit: February 10th (included).
Registro anticipado para el Show Don’t Tell! y la Cumbre Mundial de Infografía: hasta el 10 de enero (inclusive).
Show Don’t Tell and Infographics Summit Program/programa>
FORMS/FORMULARIOS:
Show Don´t Tell! Registration/registro>
Infographics Summit Registration/registro>
On inspiration
By Bryan Christie
www.bryanchristiedesign.com
My friend John Harvey once told me, “I believe positive change happens in one of two ways: desperation or inspiration”. Another way of looking at this is that old saying: “A smart man learns from his mistakes, a wise one from the mistakes of others. “ Yet another quote on this theme: “Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us get up every day and get to work.” One of my three favorite living artists said this: Chuck Close. This quote gives props to desperation.
What is work for but survival in the end? It is the means by which we are able to feed ourselves, give ourselves shelter, and provide for our families. I want to share with you some of the art I look to for inspiration. This work informs my illustration, information graphics, and fine art. I’ll start with a piece by Hiroshige.
Gallery
Please link on the image to see a larger picture.
This composition puts most award-winning pieces to shame. The off-center dynamism of this piece knocks me out. Doesn’t it almost look like a Bauhaus piece compositionally? With this as his inspiration, Joe Lertola, our information graphics director, created this for IEEE Spectrum.
Next is a paper cutting by Matisse. The simplification of form of Matisse’s later works always blows me away. There is such a purity to it. A sensuous love of color informs his work. I had a reproduction of this piece tacked to my wall when I did the following illustration for the New York Times.
Next, let’s look at a cave painting. I’m stunned by the sophistication of line in this 16,000-year-old (!) painting. The color, line and texture is something I’m trying to achieve with the three following pieces.
And finally, something I look to often: a color wheel. The color wheel is itself an information graphic. It is charting color. It is organizing the mysteries of color into a comprehensible order. I find this wheel invaluable for inspiration, especially because color is meaning in our profession.
TWENTY. The Malofiej story
By John Grimwade
A presentation covering two decades of Malofiej competitions, summits and workshops. The infographics, the people, the lectures, the discussions, the books, the eating, the drinking, the laughing. A roundup of all the things that have made Malofiej so important to us.
Of course, it’s been a huge exchange of ideas and approaches. With inspiration and teaching that have raised the standard of infographics around the world. And the friendships made in Pamplona cross all boundaries and cultures.
So I hereby declare that Malofiej is: The United Nations of Infographics! On March 23, during the awards dinner, I’ll be celebrating the Malofiej experience. It’s an affectionate and grateful salute from someone who has been along for most of the 20-year ride.
See you there!
20 Information Design Milestones
By Sheila Pontis
http://www.mapcidesign.com/sheilapontis/
Throughout the history key movements, people, schools, organisations and publications have contributed to the development, evolution and consolidation of the information design discipline. Here it is a non-exhaustive personal selection of 20 of them:
1. Pre-cuneiform tablets (3000 bc). First ways of visual communication developed in Sumer, a region of Mesopotamia. These tablets can be seen as one of the first attempts of designing information.
2. Early cartographic examples. The first map of the world was a simple illustration where the world is synthesised in a circle, containing three continents. Much later, in 1375 a world atlas was made, which was a complete visual work of cosmography, along with a perpetual calendar and a thematic representation of the known world.
3. The Gutenberg Bible (1456). Gutenberg’s book has superb typographic legibility, a sense of organising information and defining a hierarchical structure of the information.
4. Charts and Graphs (1770-80s). Priestley created the first recorded graph of time depicted as a timeline in 1765. While in 1786, Playfair published a great collection of graphics in his The Commercial and Political Atlas.
5. The Rose Diagram (1858). Diagram created by the nurse Florence Nightingale to show the poor sanitary conditions of hospitals under which the British army was exposed during the Crimean War (1853-1856). Nightingale believed that diagrams could be more effective ways of communication than only written words.
6. Carté Figurative (1869). Also worthy of mention is the graphic created by the French engineer Minard, who added statistical diagrams and bar graphs to cartographic maps. His work displays a great amount of information carefully organised and coded.
7. Periodic Table (1871). Mendeleev presented a classification of the elements according to their chemical properties, noticing patterns that led him to develop his periodic table and predict several new elements that would complete the table.
8. The Bauhaus School (1919-1933). The aims of the school were to create a functional and rational idea of design, and bridge the gap between art and industry, becoming the antithesis of the Arts and Crafts movement.
9. EL Lissitzky (1920s). In his designed books, he introduced the concept of visual programme and functional design, working with shapes and colours purposefully organised and creating a visual unity throughout the pages.
10. The New typography (Berlin, 1920s). The essence of the new typography was clarity, not simply beauty; its objective was to develop form from the functions of the text.
11. Isotype language (1930s). This language involves the use of elementary pictographs to convey information. The originator of this language, Otto Neurath, was inspired by how the Egyptians and diagrams visualise ideas and factual information.
12. London Underground Diagram (1933). The invention of this diagrammatic map was another important contribution to the development of the information design discipline in the twentieth century.
13. Ladislav Sutnar (1940s). He is considered the progenitor of the information design discipline, as he stated the importance of functionality over aesthetics in graphic design projects and the need to control and organise information in order to effectively communicate it.
14. The International Style (1950s). This style was a synthetic graphic language, based on a mathematical grid to organise data and the used of sans-serif typefaces.
15. Semiology of Graphics (1963). Bertin published Semiologie Graphique, which became the essential book for organising visual and perceptual elements in accordance with information characteristics and relations.
16. Visual programme (1964). Gerstner introduced the concept of visual programme to the design discipline, presenting a rational approach to solve design problems.
17. Organisations, Publications and Conferences (1980s). An interest for researching, sharing and learning about information design emerged during the last decades of the xx century. First PhD investigations about design started to appear in the 80s. Associations such as SND (1979), IIID (1986) and IDA (1991), and design publications such as Information Design Journal (1979) and Visible Language (1967) were also ‘born’ during those years.
18. The Visual Display of Quantitative Information (1983). Tufte’s first book introduced the idea that effectiveness is not related to beauty or technology but to appropriate organisation of information.
19. Understanding is everything (1989). Wurman devotes most of his books to explaining the meaning and importance of ‘understanding’. He points out that it is essential for the graphic designer, information architect or information designer to acknowledge the power of organisation to increase understanding and to have in their repertoire an efficient method of organising.
20. Malofiej (1993-2012). In 1993, the first edition of the annual, international competition for print and online information graphics, named for Argentinean infographer Alejandro Malofiej, was launched. Conferences and workshops have been also part of the programme of this event. In addition, it brings together a great number of specialists, students, professionals and researchers of the field, creating a rich space for discussions, learning and sharing. Undeniable, this event has been an invaluable key contributor and essential reference for the development and consolidation of information graphics, and thus information design.
A World of Information
By Carl de Torres
www.carldetorres.com
It’s 2012 and the world’s collective data is growing larger everyday. From the terabyte to the petabyte to the exabyte… How long will it be when the world’s data reaches a yottabyte? What the heck is a yottabyte, you ask? Believe me when I say that it has a lot of zeros.
It’s possible that the world’s collected data has reached one zettabyte (1021) status, or will so this year. With more data our disposal than ever before the world is going to need amazing designers to visualize it. Information design, infographics, and data visualization (or whatever you choose to call the art/science of contextualizing massive amounts of information) are the most innovative forms of graphic design happening today.
As with any emerging field, there will be much exploration and trial and error, as people push the limits of how to visually display data. There have already been advancements worth celebrating. Take for example the New York MoMa’s recent acquisition of Aaron Koblin’s “Flight Patterns” into their permanent collection, and the soon to be added “2010 Annual Report” by Nicholas Felton.
Both are prime examples of how information design can both enlighten and captivate audiences through the visual display of data. These works have transcended from data to design to art. This is a great achievement for our craft. Infographics are now officially part of a global visual vernacular. Publishers see them as a must-have, businesses see them as a way to justify their methods or even sell products, and designers see them as a way to promote themselves and make a living. Infographics have gone mainstream!
Unfortunately this explosion of activity has also produced a lot of mediocre work that threatens to hamper the movement. I believe the overuse of infographics to be a temporary aberration that will ultimately make better information designers out of all of us. It will push us to move past clichés and to be more innovative in our methods so that we can tell new and more informative stories like never before. This is why institutions such as Malofiej, which critique and celebrate the worlds best infographic work, will become even more so in the years to come.
I’ve heard some call infographics a “design fad” that will pass in time, but infographics are nothing new. People have been visually displaying information for a very, very long time. Even though the methods or tools of creating infographics are changing, resulting in new visualization methods, the goals or core purpose of infographics remains the same: to visually explain or reveal a process, system, or data set in a clear and concise way.
We now live in a world with unrivaled access to data and sophisticated software to reveal the patterns in the noise. As exciting as these new tools and technologies are, it will be extremely important for information designers to exercise great integrity. The images they produce will be extremely persuasive and will reach more people than ever before. So no matter what method an information designer uses to “crunch the numbers”, a solid, enlightening infographic will always be the product of thorough research, truthful editing, well-paced storytelling and exquisite design.
The importance of information design is only going to increase in the years to come — and this is a very good thing for everyone. So break out your sketchbook, fire up your computer, and hit the whiteboard, because we are about to embark on a renaissance in storytelling. Content providers and visual artists are increasingly marching in lockstep, dependent on each other, pushing each other to make sense of the overwhelming amounts of data at our disposal. The results of our efforts, I’m confident, will surprise, delight, and educate us all.
Malofiej’s medals, the information you were waiting for. Las medallas de Malofiej, esa información que querías saber
Golden Section Graphics executive and creative director Jan Schwochow show us visually a relation of medals winners by media of the past 20 years. This infographic seems to answer some questions that we all have asked ourselves from time to time. Link here to enjoy it!
Jan Schwochow, director ejecutivo y creativo de Golden Section Graphics, nos ofrece la lista de medios ganadores y medallas de estos últimos veinte años. Sabemos que en algún momento te has hecho preguntas que esta infografía responde. Por eso, esperamos que la disfrutes. Pincha aquí para verla.
Who Is the Most Influential Person in Infographics? Quién es el más influyente en infografía
By Juan Colombato.
*From his blog Zaveka infográfica.
A majority of infographics blogs have already written on the upcoming mega-event of the year in Infography (in March to be precise). Now, on the eve of the twentieth birthday of the young Malofiej project, it is an apt moment to review and select which professional or graphic has been the most impressive or has best shown us the way forward. Thus the question published on the colorful Malofiej20, do not rest on your laurels website of this twentieth anniversary: “Which and who are the most influential graphic and infographer of these past 20 years?”.
Anyway, I don’t believe that a graphic can define a model or archetype to be followed, but rather it’s an era or the works produced in it that causes a wave to crest in the sea of infographics. When it comes time to choose first comes the graphic, then the author. And that’s no little thing, if the choice is to be made conscientiously.
Because the balloting is secret, I will not reveal my vote here. But this process has given me the chance to revisit those works and authors that have inspired me since I began in this field. It is a long list, but there are always personal favorites. I think that geographic location and personal taste are some of the reasons that define our influences.
Here I would like to set forth, in chronological order, a few of the people who, for me, are paradigms of this profession. And even though some of them may seem obvious, it is important to stress the importance of their contributions (*).
1) The very first of all is JOHN GRIMWADE. Although his nomination cannot omit mention of the great Nigel Holmes (his predecessor, and why not, his maestro), a star of the eighties and nineties, Grimwade taught, among other things, the use of color as information with a distinctive palette, combined with iconic skill (a direct legacy of Holmes). It is enough to look at the clarity with which this technique is used to present the information. He developed the use of axonometric perspective before the advent of the computers, defining a style for all types of explanatory infographics; at heart an illustrator, statistician and cartographer.
Infographics
Please link on the image to see a larger picture.
2) JAIME SERRA of Clarín. As I said before, a single graph does not define a new era (though the right whale was a jumping-off point), but in the case of Serra, his time at Clarín (Argentina) was a journalistic-visual revolution. Why do I say this? Not only for his visual presentations, but that the themes he selected extended the standard range of visual storytelling. From the most mundane or everyday topics to the most scientific. Even in the midst of their initial boom, he understood that the use of computers was not mandatory and that no tool is irreplaceable in visual journalism, but rather anything can be used (when I say anything, I mean anything). Here you can take a look at his eclectic work and technical feats.
3) FERNANDO BAPTISTA of El Correo de Bilbao. The quality of the illustrations and the clarity of the visual stories have a distinct advantage over any other graphic of its type. The processes of his graphics have their own superlative quality in describing realities, and the layers of information maintain a balance of order and clarification in telling the news with depth. His “teammate” Javier Zarracina, who defined the unmistakable style of this great little group, should also be mentioned here.
4) Professor ALBERTO CAIRO. While it might not be possible to define a particular style to his vast career, it is impossible to deny that his contribution as a teacher and visual communicator has been one of the most important in understanding the present and future of infographics during our generation. For this reason, I decided to include here two of his bibliographic works that excel (for clarity and synthesis) beyond what had been written or talked about up till then. I am referring to “Infografía 2.0, visualización interactiva de información en prensa” (Infography 2.0 interactive visualization of information in the press) (Sept. 2008), and “El Arte Funcional, infografía y visualización de información” (Functional Art, Infographics and Visualization of Information) (Oct. 2011). And when it comes to collaborations, his contributions to the El País blog Periodismo con futuro (Journalism with a future) should be noted. If you do click on the images of the original document you can learn more about these two works.
5) AMANDA COX of the digital era. Coming from that great newspaper known as the “Gray Lady” (The New York Times) to not include one of its many exponents simply could not be done, but what is more, it cannot be denied that the innovations of Amanda Cox (in on-line graphics) have been among the riskiest. And I think, ultimately, even though some may doubt their disputed readability or comprehensibility, they have helped us to further explore alternatives in the visualization of data, in statistics, and the powers of interactivity. Link on the original blog to navigate the interactive graphic.
(*) I want to clarify that while I have tried to be as objective in this selection as possible, in the end these are personal opinions. I make this clarification because many people will tell me that I’m leaving out many others who paved the way or who defined an era, such as Nigel Holmes, or pioneers Peter Sullivan, Alejandro Malofiej and Fernando Rubio, the innovations of Jan Schwochow (GSG), Javier Zarracina (El Correo, The Boston Globe) and Juan Velasco (NYT-NG), to name other outstanding people.
La mayoría de los blog de infografía ya han hecho referencia al súper evento, en materia infográfica, de este año (marzo para ser preciso). Pero la iniciativa de los Malofiej para estos jóvenes veinte años de vida, son una buena excusa para repensarse quién o cuál ha sido el gráfico que más nos marcó o influenció un camino a seguir. De eso trata la propuesta que colgó Malofiej20, don’t rest on your laurels (no te duermas en los laureles) en su flamante página para su vigésimo aniversario: “Cuál es el gráfico y quién es el infografista más influyente de estos 20 años”.
De todas maneras no creo que un gráfico pueda definir un modelo o arquetipo a seguir, sino que una etapa o su obra es el que provoca un oleaje en el océano de la infografía. Primero aparece el gráfico y luego el autor, a la hora de elegir. Y no es poca cosa si dicha elección es a conciencia.
Como el voto es secreto, no voy a revelar mi sufragio, pero este ejercicio me llevó a recordar obras y autores que me inspiraron desde mis inicios hasta la actualidad cercana. El listado es largo, pero siempre hay preferidos. Creo que la ubicación geográfica y los gustos personales son algunas de las razones que definen las influencias.
En este caso, quiero exponer, en orden cronológico, algunos de los que para mí son paradigma de esta profesión. Y por más que algunos de ellos suenen obvios, es importante destacar la importancia de sus aportes (*).
Sube arriba para ver las imágenes que cita Colombato.
1) El primerísimo de todos es JOHN GRIMWADE.
Aunque con su invocación no se puede dejar de nombrar al gran Nigel Holmes (su predecesor, y porqué no, su maestro). Prócer de la década de los ochenta y noventa, Grimwade enseñó, entre otras cosas, la aplicación del color como información en una paleta inconfundible, sumada a la destreza icónica (herencia directa de Holmes). Basta con ver la claridad con que usaba dicha herramienta para explicar las informaciones. Desarrolló el uso de la perspectiva axonométrica antes de la llegada de la computadora, definiendo un estilo para cualquier tipo de infografía explicativa. Sea de carácter ilustrativo, estadístico o cartográfico.
2) El JAIME SERRA de Clarín.
Como dije antes, un solo gráfico no define una nueva era (aunque la ballena franca fue el inicio), pero en el caso de Serra, su etapa por el diario Clarín (Argentina) supuso una revolución periodística-visual. Por qué digo esto. Porque no sólo sus resoluciones plásticas lo fueron, sino que su temática amplió el abanico clásico a la hora de contar historias visuales. Desde las más banales o cotidianas hasta las más científicas. En pleno auge de la computadora, entendió que esa y ninguna herramienta es imprescindible para hacer periodismo visual, sino que todas pueden servir (cuando digo todas, son todas). Aquí pueden echarle un ojo a su ecléctica obra y hallazgos técnicos.
3) El FERNANDO BAPTISTA de El Correo de Bilbao.
La calidad de las ilustraciones y la claridad de los cuentos visuales tienen un plus distinto a cualquiera de su tipo. El proceso de sus gráficos poseen una calidad superlativa para describir realidades, y las capas de información mantienen un equilibrio de órden y clarificación para contar y profundizar las noticias. En esta postulación es correcto hablar de su “coequiper” Javier Zarracina, en el cuál definieron el estilo inconfundible de este pequeño gran equipo.
4) El profesor ALBERTO CAIRO.
Si bien no podría definir un estilo particular de su basta carrera, tampoco podría negar que su aporte como docente y divulgador visual ha sido uno de los más importante para entender el presente y futuro de los gráficos informativos de nuestras generaciones. Por tal motivo, he decidido exponer sus dos obras bibliográficas que sobrepasaron (por claridad y revisionismo) lo que ya estaba escrito, y dicho. Me estoy refiriendo a “Infografía 2.0, visualización interactiva de información en prensa”(sept. 2008), y “El Arte Funcional, infografía y visualización de información” (oct. 2011). Y en lo que refiere a colaboraciones, se puede mencionar sus aportes en el blog de El País: Periodismo con futuro.
5) La AMANDA COX de la era digital.
Viniendo del gran diario conocido como “La Dama Gris” (The New York Times) no se podía dejar de nombrar alguno de sus numerosos exponentes, pero aún más, no podemos negar que las innovaciones de Amanda Cox (en los gráficos online) han sido de las más arriesgadas. Y creo que en definitiva por más que algunos reneguemos de su discutida legibilidad o entendimiento, nos han ayudado a explorar más sobre las alternativas de visualización de datos, en materia estadística, y las virtudes de la interactividad. Haga click en las imágenes del original -blog del autor del post- para navegar el interactivo.
(*) Quiero aclarar que por más objetividad que intenté ponerle a esta selección, no deja de ser una opinión personal. Hago esta aclaración porque sino muchos me dirán que estoy dejando afuera otros tantos que marcaron el camino o, una era, como el mismo Nigel Holmes, o los pionero Peter Sullivan, Alejandro Malofiej y Fernando Rubio, las innovaciones de Jan Schwochow (GSG), Javier Zarracina (El Correo, The Boston Globe) o Juan Velasco (NYT-NG), por nombrar otros que se destacaron en el tiempo.