Edward Tufte's entry into the field of informa-
Review article
Richness against
flatness: Edward
Tufte's Envisioning
infomation
Robin Kinross
Edward R. Tufte
Envisioning information
Graphics Press, PO Box 430,
Cheshire, Connecticut 0 6 4 1 0 ,
USA, 1990 $48.
(Graphics Press UK, PO Box 8,
Godalming, Surrey GU7 3HB.
£30)
This review of Edward Tufte's sec-
ond book about the graphic pre-
sentation of information focusses
on concepts deployed and upon
ideals. Key ideas are discussed
and in some cases (the 'graphic
duck' and 'complexity') are fol-
lowed through to their use in
Robert Venturi's writings. The fun-
damental impulse of Tufte's work
is the wish to let information be
envisioned: to be represented in a
way that is true to its complex
nature. This means raising it
above the minimum levels of pro-
vision that have been usual in
information design. This impulse
is present in the design and mate-
rial substance of Tufte's books,
as well as in the literal content of
their text and images. In conclu-
sion, some historical placing of
these books is considered.
Information Design Journal 6:3 (1991), 221–228. DOI 10.1075/idj.6.3.04kin
ISSN 0142–5471 / E-ISSN 1569–979X © John Benjamins Publishing Company
tion design, The visual display of quantitative
information, appeared in 1983 (it was reviewed
in ID], 4/3). The book was published by the
author himself and has mostly been sold direct
to the public, by means of press advertisements
and leaflets. To bypass the publishing and book-
selling trades like this is to do it the hard way;
yet the book is now in its eleventh printing. It
must have fulfilled a need; though, as yet, it
would be hard to say that standards in the
design of data graphics have improved as a
result of Tufte's arguments. One might guess at
some reasons for this book's success: that it
identified and discussed, in a clear and unfussy
way, a topic that has been one of the barely
articulated areas of h u m a n endeavour; that -
although paper-and-ink-fixated - it coincided
with the boom in computer graphics and would
have seemed to provide guidance to the hordes
of newly graphically empowered lay users; that
it was itself a nicely made artefact, and one
which any design-conscious person would want
to possess, even if they only leafed through it
occasionally.
Envisioning information is a natural sequel
to the first book. Essentially it consists of a col-
lection of examples of graphic presentation of
information, which Tufte regards as exemplary:
his accompanying text attempts to explain why.
These examples and their commentary tend to
occupy a single page or a double-page spread,
with the text written to fill the space fairly
exactly. The whole book - this carefully written
text, its sidenotes, pictures both outwith and
within the text, and their captions - constitutes
an intricate piece of configuration, and thus
exploits the possibilities that are open to the
Robin Kinross is a typographer and small
self-publishing author. More than the first book, publisher: he writes about the theory and
it is a closely focussed explanation of 'design history of graphic design
excellence: why some displays are better than Author's address
others' (p.9). And, in particular, where The 5 1 Grafton Road
London NW5 3DX
visual display was predominantly mono-
chrome, the new work discusses and uses
221
 Robin Kinross . On Edward Tufte's Envisioning information

colour fairly consistently throughout; and this tenor, vigorously providing evidence for the
has entailed the lavish - though also subtle - view that information, meaning, material and
application of colour in printing the book. graphic qualities, publishing economics, politi-
(Concerning the sheet on which the chapter on cal beliefs, and m u c h else, are all bound up in
'Color and information' is printed, Tufte one complex and ultimately indivisible
remarks in a sidenote that 21 separate flat totality.
colours were used.) 'Data-ink', 'chartjunk', and the graphic
'duck', are the memorable slogans of The visu-
al display. Ink is hardly mentioned in Envis-
CONCEPTS AND TERMS
ioning information (perhaps the author came
to realize its limitations), while the other two
terms make just a brief reprise. 'Chart-junk'
The argument of The visual display hung on a
appears as a means of putting the boot into a
few leading concepts. 'Data-ink ratio' was a
graph-turned-into-illustration from Time mag-
key test of a display: 'the proportion of a graph-
azine. (If only Tufte's abuse could have some
ic's ink devoted to the non-redundant display
effect on such stuff!) The 'duck' analogy is
of data information' (p.93). The ideal ratio is
brought in at the same point (p.34), to describe
1:1. This inky obsession reached a high point
displays that are themselves decorations. It
when Tufte commended one example thus:
may be worth expanding on the way in which
'...while every drop of ink serves three differ-
Tufte plays with the 'duck' idea; especially
ent data display functions, each of the three
because the argument of Envisioning informa-
comes to the eye with its own independence
tion is centred on another term with a ringing
and integrity' (p. 15 5 ). Two observations might
sound to it, also borrowed from another writer.
be made about 'data-ink'. First, that ink is
The concept of the 'duck' comes from the
splendidly irrelevant to screen presentation
book Learning from Las Vegas, by Robert
and also (if one is being pedantic) to photo-
Venturi, Denise Scott Brown, and Steven
copied and laser-printed images: here it can be
Izenour (who, in turn, borrow their illustration
no more than a metaphor, drawn from the
from a book by Peter Blake: both sources are
workshops in which this material is smeared
scrupulously given by Tufte). Venturi and his
onto rollers with palette knives, then wiped
associates explain their 'duck' in contradistinc-
away with rags soaked in turpentine spirits.
tion to what they call the 'decorated shed':
And, second, that Tufte's quantifying habit of
'The duck is the special building that is a sym-
mind - his frequent recourse to data-density
bol; the decorated shed is the conventional
calculations - fits oddly with the escape from
shelter that applies symbols. We maintain that
merely utilitarian evaluation that his work rep-
both kinds of architecture are valid - Chartres
resents, and which will be discussed further
is a duck (although it is a decorated shed as
here. One might extend this observation by
well), and the Palazzo Farnese is a decorated
wondering how realistic is the view - widely
shed - but we think that the duck is seldom rel-
held by theorists of communication - that sep-
evant today, although it pervades Modern
arates some piece of information from the car-
architecture.' (1977 edn, p.87) The frisson that
rier or container of that information. Tufte's
this argument achieves is to pin the label of
work seems to swerve between innocently
representation onto modern architecture,
accepting this disassociation and, in its overall
which had imagined itself (in some of its early

Information design journal 6/3 (1991) 221-28

222
 Robin Kinross ■ On Edward Tufte's Envisioning information
rhetoric, at least) to be creating purely func-
tional, abstract form. Venturi and his associ-
ates load more dirt onto their missile by
happening on this particular creature, with its
special associations of Disneyland kitsch. The
point to be made about Tufte's use of this term
is that, in borrowing it, he loses much of the
complexity of its first use, as a special weapon
in a polemic against modern architecture. And
further, one cannot say that he is in favour the
graphic equivalents of 'decorated sheds' - the
approach clearly preferred by Venturi and his
associates. Rather, Tufte, with his horror of
'chartjunk', would seem to be following a fairly
straight modern path: against decoration,
against any detachable and inessential matter.
He has taken over the memorable term,
attempted to appropriate some of the strands of
meaning that attach to it, but - pressing the
investigation further - one finds that he has
come away with meanings that he cannot real-
ly want. 'Duck' serves well as a term of abuse,
but doesn't bear thinking about too hard.
Another quite revealing reference to Robert
Venturi's work is made in both books. Tufte
brings in Venturťs advocacy of 'complexity 7 to
support his own arguments for information-
rich displays. In Envisioning information
(p.51 ), Venturťs Complexity and contradic­
tion in architecture is quoted from at some
length; four omitted passages are indicated by
Tufte within these quoted words. One of these
ellipses occurs as follows: 'Architects can no
longer afford to be intimidated by the puritani­
cally moral language of orthodox Modern
architecture. ... an architecture of complexity
and contradiction has a special obligation
toward the whole: its truth must be in its total­
ity or its implications of totality. 7 Looking up
Venturi's text (1966 edn, p.16), one finds that
Tufte has omitted the following: 'I like ele­
ments which are hybrid rather than "pure 77 ,
Information design journal 6/3 (1991) 221-28
223
compromising rather than "clean 77 , distorted
rather than "straightforward 77 , ambiguous
rather than "articulated 77 , perverse as well as
impersonal, boring as well as "interesting 77 ,
conventional rather than "designed 77 , accomo­
dating rather than excluding, redundant rather
than simple, vestigial as well as innovating,
inconsistent and equivocal rather than direct
and clear. I am for messy vitality over obvious
unity. I include the non sequitur and proclaim
the duality. 7 (Another, more reasoned para­
graph follows.) The point to be made here is
that Tufte shapes his quotation for his own
purposes. Venturťs attitudes are more messy
and rather more extreme than it is comfortable
to repeat: presumably Tufte is not advocating
the perverse, the boring, the inconsistent.
The long quotation from Venturi ends with
the slogan 'less is a bore 7 . This is a parody of
'less is more 7 , the dictum of Mies van der Rohe,
who practised the simplifying architecture
most disliked by Venturi. Tufte's comment
then follows: 'But, finally, the deepest reason
for displays that portray complexity and intri­
cacy is that the worlds we seek to understand
are complex and intricate. "God is in the
details", said Mies van der Rohe, capturing
the essential quality of micro/macro perfor­
mances. 7 (p.51) So which Mies is it to be? The
villain who wanted reduction of elements, or
the hero who loved details? Maybe the appar­
ent contradiction could be resolved by some
further argumentation. But, whatever the level
of contradiction in evidence here, this detour
into sources does at least suggest that compar­
ing data graphics to architecture is a perilous
business, and that while strong polemics as
practised by Tufte (and also by Venturi) can be
entertaining, at some point the slogans run too
far from the cases to which they might refer:
then we need to get back to particulars, to drop
the analogies.
 Robin Kinross . On Edward Tufte's Envisioning information
VISIONS AND IDEALS
The argument of Envisioning information uses
one central concept or slogan: 'flatland'. Like
the 'duck', this term is borrowed, from the text
of this title written pseudonymously by Edwin
A. Abbott and published in 1884. Tufte calls
Flatland a 'classic' (p.12), though a rapid
inspection of Abbott's book doesn't suggest
that it is more than a very extended elabora-
tion, in the form of a fiction, of the simple idea
that Tufte borrows. To quote Tufte's explana-
tion: 'Even though we navigate through a per-
ceptual world of three spatial dimensions and
reason occasionally about higher dimensional
arenas with mathematical ease, the world por-
trayed on our information displays is caught
up in the two-dimensionality of the endless
flatlands of paper and video screen. All com-
munication between the readers of an image
and the makers of an image must now take
place on a two-dimensional surface. Escaping
this flatland is the essential task of envision-
ing information - for all the interesting
worlds (physical biological imaginary,
human) that we seek to understand are in-
evitably and happily multivariate in nature.
Not flatlands.' (p.12: author's italics)
If 'data-ink' reflected the positivist aspect of
Edward Tufte, 'flatland' - and the escape from
it - belongs with another m o m e n t in his
thought. This is his embrace of a dimension
that information design has often ignored and
sometimes denied: the dimension of graphic
quality, or perhaps of aesthetics. The last chap-
ter of The visual display ('Aesthetics and tech-
nique in data graphical design') provided the
most explicit discussion of these issues in that
book, but an awareness of this dimension is
present throughout both books. It is there in
Information design journal 6/3 (1991) 221-28
224
the material substance of the books them-
selves: their good cloth bindings, the matt
paper on which high-resolution images print in
rich detail, the elaborate multiple workings
with which the colours of the second book
have been printed. Here it might be worth
pointing out that in both books the text was
set by Monotype composition (hot-metal),
proofed on paper, then photographed for litho
printing. The slightly thicker character image
obtained (as against photo-composed text)
must have been felt to justify the significantly
greater labour and expense entailed, the extent
of which is markedly increased in Envisioning
information on those pages (94, 108) where
text is run around images, to help out in tight
circumstances. Some readers may worry about
the slight discrepancies in colour (and data-ink
density?) of the text over different pages, but
these have been kept to a m i n i m u m .
Thus, though the theory of 'data-ink' calls
for a 1:1 matching of information to material
carrier, Tufte also aims for 'envisioning', for
multi-functioning, for surplus, and - this is his
privilege as a successful self-publisher - is able
to put his argument into the artefact of his
book. It is a radical position, seen in the con-
text of information design. The assumptions
and methods of information design have tend-
ed to go for reduction or, at most, for optimum
fit. The reigning ethos has been that of 'most
efficient', 'most effective', 'least expensive'. 1
1 This matter, in conjunction with the question of
graphic quality, has been an under-discussed funda-
mental of information design. These issues were first
raised for the present writer in considering James
Hartley's Designing instructional text (Kinross &
Hartley 1979). But one awaits proper consideration -
perhaps in the pages of IDJ - of the nature of 'quality'
and of the part that 'surplus-to-requirement' ele-
ments might play in information design.
 Robin Kinross ■ On Edward Tufte's Envisioning information
One instance of this approach may be cited
(pp. 108-9; Figure 1 overleaf): a bus schedule for
a route in New York, designed by Tufte with
two associates. 2 (This is a very welcome case of
the theorist coming forward with a worked
demonstration of his beliefs.) The schedule is
composed of two main elements. First, a highly
detailed aerial photograph (which, Tufte
remarks, 'unveils the area mostly at the level
of house resolution' [author's italics]). The
main features of the city are named here by
white-out-of-black labels; the route is traced by
a line printed in red. And second, a timetable in
the form of a continuous graph: distance read-
ing vertically, time horizontally. Following
Tufte's best principles, the grid lines of this
graph are printed in a percentage tint of grey -
black would interfere with the data line, and
tend towards 'chartjunk 7 - the annotations of
time and place are in solid grey, while the data
lines are red. As Tufte points out, during rush
hours the data lines thicken into spaghetti: as
in all the best displays, form seems to body
forth the information. If the times of buses
become hard to discern at these points, that
doesn't matter: what the schedule says here is
'turn up and you won't have long to wait'. The
2 Mention should be made here of Inge Druckrey,
one of Edward Tufte's design colleagues, and also his
wife; her contribution is generously acknowledged
by him. One might speculate that the modernist in
Tufte - a large part of him - must have been encour-
aged by this collaboration. Druckrey's background
includes an education at the Basel Kunstgewerbe-
schule. If Tufte's work in data graphics has been
strongly marked by the well-heeled culture of East-
Coast academic life (as in the quality of the typeset-
ting and printing used), it also incorporates frequent,
rather eclectic reference to central figures of Euro-
pean modernism: Klee, Albers, Mies, Tschichold...
As in the lives of several of these figures, the meeting
of Europe and America issues in an interesting
dialectic.
Information design journal 6/3 (1991) 221-28
piece is a didactic exercise, and it demonstrates
Tufte's ideas well: a data-rich total picture that
users can take in different ways according to
their needs. It is a beautiful piece of work: fine
for the studio or seminar-room wall. But it suf-
fers drastic disadvantages as a usable thing. It
would be expensive to produce: all this - aerial
photographs, grey and red inks - for just one
bus route. And what happens after six months,
when the times are changed? Both economic-
ally and ergonomically, it is strictly out of
pocket.
Earlier in the book, Tufte does attempt to
meet such objections. 'Showing complexity is
hard work. Detailed micro/macro designs are
difficult to produce, imposing substantial costs
for data collection, illustration, custom com-
puting, image processing, production, and fine
printing - expenses similar to that of first-class
cartography (which, in the main, can be
financed only by governments). The conven-
tional economies of declining costs for each
additional data bit will usually be offset by a
proliferation of elaborate complexities pro-
voked by the interacting graphical elements.
Still, a single high-density page can replace
twenty scattered posterizations, with a possi-
ble savings when total expenses are assessed
(data collection and analysis, design, paper,
production, printing, binding, warehousing,
and shipping). And our readers might keep that
one really informative piece of paper, although
they will surely discard those twenty posteriza-
tions.' (p.50. By 'posterizations', Tufte means
'like posters': data-thin displays, good for only
a single look.) This argument, with its 'can',
'possible', 'might', and 'surely', is tenuous, and
would hardly wash with a bus company. Here,
in the case of the bus schedule, as elsewhere,
Tufte's views are best taken as the strong state-
ment of an ideal - against which much every-
day graphic design practice can be shown to be
 Robin Kinross . On Edward Tufte's Envisioning information

Figure 1 The portion of a bus schedule (annotated aerial photo-

graph plus 'graphical timetable') reproduced in Envisioning infor­
mation. The whole sheet includes times of journeys in the other
direction, and is one of a set of six designed by Edward Tufte and
his colleagues, printed in five colours and published by Graphics
Press.
Information design journal 6/3 (1991) 221-28

226
 Robin Kinross ■ On Edward Tufte's Envisioning information
lacking, and towards which most everyday
designers can be urged to strive. But, in the
privileged pages of this journal, we may be
allowed to point out a lack in Tufte's theories:
of canny judgement about how the world
works.
Tufte's advocacy of complexity entails a
paradox, which he recognizes: 'Simplicity of
reading derives from the context of detailed
and complex information, properly arranged. A
most unconventional design strategy is
revealed: to clarify, add detail.' (p.37: author's
italics) A too-simple, data-thin display, like a
falsely prettified one, patronizes the audience:
'the operating moral premise of information
design should be that our readers are alert and
caring; they may be busy, eager to get on with
it, but they are not stupid/ (p.34: author's ital-
ics) This is a good political principle too, one
might add. And, if one also shares Tufte's plea-
sure in very complex graphic displays, such as
the railway schedules he shows (pp.24-5, 45 ) or
the technical drawing of the photocopier (p.54)
- things that one might want on one's wall,
Information design journal 6/3 (1991) 221-28
227
Figure 2
A timetable in its
original version
(top) and as
redesigned in
Envisioning infor­
mation {below).
The re-design
disposes of the
heavy grid lines
and introduces a
grey background
tint. Information
is reordered, but
are ambiguities
introduced?
more than most paintings - then it is hard to
disagree. Nevertheless, thinking against one-
self, one may wonder if this preference isn't a
rather private pleasure: the indulgence of an
information-design freak. Some intelligent
people have trouble reading even the simplest
railway timetable. This reader, for example,
still cannot completely grasp the timetable
shown on pp.54-5 of this book (Figure 2): and
in at least one respect (the dot leaders running
on from four of the stations) the bad original
seems clearer than Tufte's improved version.
THE B O O K S CONTRIBUTION
After uttering some of the qualifications and
doubts that one has about The visual display
and Envisioning information, it will be as well,
by way of conclusion, to explain the service
that these books perform. True to their
author's multi-functioning principle, Edward
Tufte's intervention attacks on at least three
flanks simultaneously. As already suggested,
 Robin Kinross . On Edward Tufte's Envisioning information
his arguments counter the reductionist, blindly
positivist assumptions that have informed
much information design work; they also man-
ifest an awareness of design considerations that
is usually absent from purely statistical statis-
tical-graphics; while at the same time they
constitute a good attempt to demolish the
unprincipled rubbish very often perpetrated by
'modern commercial designers' (Envisioning
information, p.64: he means 'most graphic
designers' not 'those who believe in modern
design').
Although Tufte explains himself clearly
enough, it may be worth summarizing some
key points of his discussion. The new book
stresses 'envisioning', but 'letting the informa-
tion envision itself: putting it into good rich
soil so that it can blossom forth' might convey
better the sense of Tufte's ideals. He wants to
get away from the idea that 'design' means an
imposition of order - or, worse, visual pattern -
onto the information: the 'epidemics of data-
imprisonment and decorative line-drawing'
that 'break out when modern commercial
designers are faced with information' (p.64).
'Envisioning' can begin to happen when data is
ordered according to a variable not evident
within the data itself (p.67), so that visual
change follows changes of content and mean-
ing. For example: when information is ordered
by date rather than alphabetically, in a list of
scientific papers (p.39) or on the Vietnam
Veterans Memorial (p.43), which thus enacts
the course of the war. Another means of
achieving this end is the steady or self-effacing
frame, which gives 'the focus over to data
rather than data-containers' (p.33 - here is the
questionable distinction between content and
container, noted earlier): 'constancy of design
allows viewers to focus on changes in informa-
tion rather than changes in graphical composi-
Information design journal 6/3 (1991) 221-28
228
tion. A steady canvas makes for a clearer pic-
ture.' (p.29)
As his discussions of Galileo and other old
visualizers suggest, Tufte is here articulating
wisdom that must have been practised tacitly
for centuries. Nor is he the first to make explic-
it the principle of 'let the material find its own
best form: search for meaningful principles by
which the thing can design itself'. This has
long been one of the best ideals of the modern
movement in design. For example in Isotype
work under the direction of Otto Neurath (see
Neurath 1936, especially pp.73-90). Or in the
typography of Anthony Froshaug: 'When all the
imposed and self-imposed constraints thus
interact and reinforce each other, the conse-
quent design only synthesizes analytics; the
arbitrary is minimized.' (Froshaug 1964, [p.1]).
Despite this shared attitude, the work of
Neurath or Froshaug - or of other such design-
ers from Europe in the early to middle twenti-
eth century - embodies a drive for fairly drastic
simplification. This, by contrast, serves to
emphasize Tufte's opposite commitment - to
'complexity'. His work comes from later on in
history, and from a more materially comfort-
able, more academically confined culture: this
context underlies its advantages and its limita-
tions.
REFERENCES
Abbott E A [as 'A Square'] (1884) Flatland. London: Seeley
Froshaug A (1964) Typographic norms. Birmingham: Kynoch
Press; London: DADA
Kinross R & Hartley J (1979) Review of J Hartley, Designing
instructional text, with a reply by Hartley. Instructional
Science, 8, 275-294
Neurath 0 (1936) International picture language. London: Kegan
Paul; Reading: Department of Typography & Graphic Com-
munication, University of Reading (1980)
Venturi R (1966) Complexity and contradiction in architecture.
New York: Museum of Modern Art
Venturi R, Scott Brown D & Izenour S (1977) Learning from Las
Vegas. Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press