Jordi Duró: "If I had to laugh, I'd be out on the street"

Illustrator and graphic commentator Jordi Duró (1971) isn't entirely sure what his birthplace should be. Despite living in Barcelona—the city where he was born "almost by accident"—his country is Andorra, where he grew up, and part of his heritage lies in Béarn, France, where he spent his summers. Linked to ARA since its inception, Duró is also the creative director of the company that bears his name, dedicated to illustrating diverse worlds such as books, records, and wine.

Their website states that the Duró brand is "a clear, direct and memorable message".

— This is what we're aiming for. I'm not a puppet. I express opinions. Visually, but I do express opinions. My jokes aren't meant to be funny. If I had to be funny, I'd be out on the street. That's not the point; the point is to make people think. Now, sometimes I do make them think with a bit of humor or irony.

What is their working method like?

— I work using graphic design techniques. My problem, first and foremost, is mental. That's why I could never do what they do on TV, where the cartoonists come out and start drawing. They'd be staring at me with a blank screen for half an hour. First, I have to think about the subject, observe, decide what I should say about it, and, above all, find the symbols, because everything is highly symbolic. The execution itself is usually very quick. What's very slow is the process of discovering the approach and figuring out how to represent it in the most symbolic and direct way possible.

What analysis do you make of the world of wine from a graphic design perspective?

— I've made labels. The last one was for a friend, Nacho. Pistachio...for a wine called Cadausolo. He makes the wine with a winery in Gredos, Comando G, which is rediscovering old, high-altitude vineyards. They work in somewhat remote locations, manually, with that modern approach of reviving traditional methods.

I see it has a little drawing on it.

— It's a coat of arms that exists in the town. It's a kind of stone on the building, with hairy men on it.

Savages of Gredos!

— Yes [laughs]. And we also did, many years ago, the Binifadet label, very typographic. We printed the stamp with wood type we have in the studio. At the beginning, during the launch, we did everything very analog.

What are your thoughts on wine labels in general?

— There's a lot of quality. When we designed the Binifadet label, there were far fewer graphic designers. Now the level is incredibly high, and there's a lot of creativity. Labels in France, for example, are more classic than Spanish ones. I generally see more creativity in Spanish labels.

Why do you think this happens?

— Because of the novelty. Everyone wants to have a voice, to stand out more. In France, I think it's more traditional because they've been working on it longer. Wine labels are graphic designs that are usually much calmer and more relaxed, more understated than those for other beverages, and very informative. They tend to be quite clear and concise, and legibility is carefully considered. There might be illustrations or other elements, but the reading experience is always very straightforward and unobtrusive.

And what is he like as a consumer?

— I drink it every day. And my relationship with wine started when I was very young. My grandfather was a farmer and made his own wine in France. My father said I got my first buzz when they were there pressing the grapes and cleaning the winepress... It's a bit strange, and I don't think you can get drunk just from the smells. But I do remember very well that there was always a big, two-liter bottle on my grandfather's table. He called it Le Biberon [laughs]. My vision of wine is that table. A table with the bottle in the middle and the whole family around it. I associate it with this French value, conviviality; with sharing, in conversation. Wine is different from any other drink. It's not about getting drunk.

Why is it different?

— It's something organic, living, that changes every year, that follows cycles, that isn't exactly industrial. All these things are related to nature: geographical and geological features, the climate. It's all fascinating. I don't understand how they manage to be consistent year after year. It seems magical to me.

Do you have very specific tastes?

— My wife and I are big wine lovers. We try different things. We like red wine, rather robust. One we really like is Massaluca, from Terra Alta.

So fruity and sweet wines don't make a difference to them?

— We prefer full-bodied wines. Although my wine terroir From France, specifically Béarn, comes Jurançon. I like it a lot, but it's more of an aperitif wine, sweet...

Are you interested in wine tourism?

— No. We're very involved in the music world. We travel to festivals, concerts, and DJ sets. We dedicate our free time to this: the world of music that we love, ofrhythm'n'blues, from souland from the garage.

And in this world of music, what kind of liquors are consumed?

— Lots of beer. And lots of mixed drinks.

Why do you think wine doesn't quite fit in that environment?

— Look, I've had it. But it's not that common. Festivals aren't equipped for it. You can't just bring a decent glass. And the temperature doesn't help either.

He has many different interests.

— Yes, but in the end, everything is connected, and you end up finding something... I'm a huge bookworm. Right now, most of my work is designing book covers; we work for many publishers at the studio. And that's because I love books so much. I've sought out projects that align with what I know best. Since publishers have seen how passionate I am about it, that I know a thing or two about it, they trust me more. It's the same with music: the labels I work with know that I understand what they're doing and what we're talking about. They save themselves the trouble of having to tell me, "This artist was like this." I already know. So everything is much faster and easier.

Being able to skip the first two paragraphs of the conversation because there is a common context…

— It allows you to help them in a different way, because you stop being just a supplier. In my studio, we worked for agencies for many years, and it's the worst feeling in the world. Now, the feeling is that if something happens in France and I find out about it, I tell my editor or my label. And I say, "Look, this came out," "Have you seen this?" I'm collaborating. It's something that makes me very happy. The fact that every day is new and that new things are being done encourages you every day.

He was one of the commissioners of Politics portrayed, an exhibition where he told the story of the country through cartoons.

— It was a project I did with my friend Jordi Torrents, a political scientist. One day he asked me, "How come some cartoons can be republished forever?" Perich never goes out of style. We started investigating, and what we found is that he "never goes out of style" because some issues haven't been resolved. Abortion hasn't been resolved, because every other day they try to take away any acquired right; it's always being fought over. On the other hand, things like military service are perhaps no longer necessary. Although maybe they'll come back... Maybe we'll have to dig them out of the archives.

He's also interested in collecting old papers. What do old newspapers offer him?

— I just gave a talk in New York about graphic art during the Republic. I don't know who said that history is really like watching a film on a loop. Back in the day, in movie theaters, there were two films, which would start over and over again. You'd go into the theater at any time, catch the film wherever you could, and then stay to see what you missed. Life is like that: when you arrive, the movie has already started. History is very useful for figuring out what you've missed.