Rotodesign | Art Chantry Interview

Chantry:		Okay, ask a question.
Roto:		[looking around book covered walls of studio] How long did it take you to build up your library?
Chantry:		10 years.
Roto:		[surprised] Really? Only 10?
Chantry:		Only 10. Actually, I've got more books at home. I'm an obsessive-compulsive. I collect things. A few years ago, I refused to collect magazines and now look at me [motions to cases filled with magazines]. For years I've resisted collecting 45s, and now I've got 45s everywhere. But I collect clip art, I love old clip art, and Sean Tejaratchi, who runs Crap Hound magazine? He and I trade clip all the time, and a lot of the clip in his issues — this is all Sean's stuff [points to two huge stacks of photocopies] that I'm copying off, and he comes up and copies off my stuff, and also I do the same thing with Chuck Anderson. You know who he is? We trade clip all the time, he's an old buddy of mine.
Roto:		His is kind of an interesting case because he's leasing it out [CSA Archive runs a stock agency for clip art].
Chantry:		Well, if you know Chuck you realise it's more of an obsession. It's like that book and everything, he spent so much money on the presentation that has yet to turn a profit, and how many years has it been out? If you know Chuck, when he gets obsessed about something that he really cares about, and he cares deeply about old clip art, he's gone so far as to research and befriend old clip art artists, and he knows a lot about its history. When he presents the stuff, he's presenting it more or less as an art book. The idea of selling access to it, which of course is ridiculous, because anybody can xerox 90% of that shit out of there and use it, is a way to kind of collect his losses back. He still hasn't been able to break even on it. And he's perfectly comfortable with that, but the project was really fucking expensive. The only way he's protected himself is he's put little bombs in there. There are certain things in there that are totally copyright protected, and people who steal from the book run the risk of crossing the copyright line with him, because a lot of that stuff he drew himself, and some of the others, he's got copyrighted logos that are controlled by big guys with teams of lawyers looking for that kind of stuff, and he's the only one that has permission to license it out. He's one of the cases who's thought it out fairly cleverly, in a way that has bombs in it, and he's actually gotten involved with a couple of big lawsuits with some big corporations that tried to rip him off over it, and what they ended up stealing were his drawings, and he can prove that, it's all documented. So he's basically gotten into a big battle, and of course that's ugly, it's the first time he's ever gotten involved in lawsuits, and now he realises what a fucking miserable task that is [laughs]. Horrible! But, Chuck's a wonderful guy, and I think probably one of the most important designers of the last 25 years. He's changed the face of graphic design, and he doesn't get the credit for it. A lot of people dis his work — "oh, it's just clip art." No, it's a hell of a lot more than that. It's damn smart stuff. It's not rip-off, it's appropriation, which is a different concept. He's re-interpreted the stuff and taught himself to think like the people who produced those looks in the first place, which is a lot more complex task than just taking a piece of clip art and dropping it into your artwork. It's like the difference between punk and... Charles Anderson. He's also one of the most sophisticated colorists I've ever seen in my life. I've seen the results of color tests he's taken, and they go off the charts. He's really a fucking amazing guy.
Roto:		And probably one of the most ripped-off designers.
Chantry:		Yeah, everyone can copy that look by — the easiest way to copy Chuck's look is — first get some cheap clip art and throw it in there, second, copy his colors — it looks like Chuck Anderson.
Roto:		Well, he tells you what kind of paper he's using.
Chantry:		But if you really compare his work to the competition he's dealing with, it's so much more sophisticated. Even to the untrained eye, you can see enormous amounts of thought goes into his work, whereas the competition just looks kinda cheesy and stupid. And I'm speaking specifically of John Sayles. [laughs] Anyway...
Roto:		It is funny, though, when you look at a Print design annual, or a How design annual, you see pages and pages of people who've obviously...
Chantry:		Yeah. But look at the impact David Carson's work has had. And Carson is an interesting case in point because his background is alternative culture. He was an old surfer. And surfers are like punks in their own way. And he was doing fucked-up artwork. For years he didn't use a computer, he did it all by hand, but he would use computers to generate the artwork and do a mechanical for the actual magazine, like in Beach Culture.
Roto:		So it kinda looked like it had been done on a computer.
Chantry:		Yeah! And as things came out fucked up, instead of trying to fix it, like a normal designer would, he would use it that way. And he had this list of rules of graphic design, he had this specific list that he actually went out of his way to try and break as many rules as possible, like you don't jump the gutter with your type, especially if it's not a double truck, you know, it actually jumps the staples. "You can't do that!" "I know, that's why I did it!" Just things like that. He went about doing anti-graphics, and because it came out at the same moment that computers were taking over the world, it was perfect timing. He mainstreamed punk, and he mainstreamed anti-graphics in the most visible way, and that was brilliant. And in his own way, he's a brilliant instinct designer the likes of which very few generations get to see. But at the same time, he quickly sloughed off into self-parody, and copying himself. Ray Gun I think is just atrocious. From the get-go, it sucked. But Beach Culture is probably one of the most important graphic design presentations, systems, I don't know, graphic design works of the last half of the century. I think it's right up there with the Blue Note series as far as impact. But like a lot of designers, their genius doesn't hold up to their own self-analysis. I'm highly critical of David Carson's current work and the work he's produced the last 10 years, but the Beach Culture stuff is unlike anything I've ever seen in my life, I think it's extremely important. So I'll champion him and pooh-pooh him at the same time.
Roto:		I remember reading an interview somewhere with him where he was asked about specific Ray Gun pages, and there was one in particular where he was asked about why the intro of the story had no title — there was no headline at the beginning of the story. They were waiting for some big answer, but apparently the headline was just left off [accidentally] and he never got a blueline [proof].
Chantry:		Yeah, see, that's the trick. Good design is a language, you want to read meaning into this stuff. An old surrealist trick was to take images that had no business being together and plopping them into the same image in different styles, and your mind wants to make associations. And design uses that all the time. A lot of punk graphics have always used that. Get a screaming baby and put it next to "Butthole Surfers," you're just horrified! And it's totally innocent! It's just ink on paper, for Christ's sake. It's a great technique, and he exploits that to the max. The other thing is that you really need to be able to articulate your ideas in this world, otherwise your impact is going to fade. The genius of instinct, and people who just have brilliant eyes is a fading phenomenon. You make instant impact, and everybody copies, and then because you can't figure out what it is you're doing, you end up getting lost in the crowd. And I think that's kind of what's happening a little bit with Carson. I mean, he's not really good at articulating his concepts. He can't explain what he's doing. He thinks he can, he keeps saying "well, it's conceptual!" but what's the concept then? Explain it to me. Please. "You know, it's conceptual stuff!" Well, conceptual is not a style. Conceptual is a fact. What is the concept, it's a descriptive.
Roto:		But at the same time he doesn't appear to be hurting for work.
Chantry:		No, no, because his stuff just looks so damn brilliant, and also he's really good at positioning himself through just sheer — in graphic design, like in all businesses, if you act like your shit doesn't stink, your shit doesn't stink. Period. I've seen designers walk into a room and just take over with their arrogance. Now that's a remarkable sales tool. The problem is when you actually buy your own bullshit. When you buy your own bullshit, you're toast. You're Sid Vicious. You just can't believe your own crap. 'Cause if you do, you've just sold yourself down the road. A bill of goods... blah de blah... I've got a bridge I want to sell you. I frankly think Carson needs to back off, because I think he's making that mistake. [pause] And I consider him a friend! [both laugh]
Roto:		Do you tell him that?
Chantry:		Yeah! Oh, yeah, I've told him that to his face. I still think he has great work in him, but he needs to sit back and think a little bit.
Roto:		Well, it's probably a little bit difficult to be objective about your own work when people are lining up to write coffee table books about you.
Chantry:		Yeah, and when everybody's standing up telling you you're a genius. The problem is when you actually think you're a genius. Then you're toast. It's like my own work, I get people telling me it's brilliant all the time, but I've been through that a few times already, I've been around longer, I've been held up high as brilliant, and then as soon as they get bored with you and move on to the next guy they drop you like a fucking lead weight and you're just forgotten. I've been through that cycle at least three or four times and it's awfully hard to take very seriously. It's like, "Come on, just show me the money and shut up." I think the best revenge is just to keep doing good work, in the face of the computer onslaught, and competition, both financially and creatively and aesthetically, and to just continue to follow your own muse. That's what I'm doing, I'm just pursuing what I'm interested in. And that is all I care about. I'm interested in graphic design, because that's what I do, and the world of graphic design fascinates me like all subcultures fascinate me, which is part of my interest. I mean, I study subculture. And I try to interpret their visual language. Design culture is just another subculture. They're just like hot rod artists, or psychedelic people, or punks.
Roto:		Or Star Trek fans.
Chantry:		It's just another fucking subculture. That's all it is. But of course, every subculture seems to think they're the center of the universe, and that's part of the definition of subculture.
Roto:		Yeah, but what's interesting to me about design culture is that it seems to be completely independent of the actual practice of design.
Chantry:		That is interesting. I have always found the actual practice of design to be much more of a populist practice. It is a pop culture phenomenon, it is a language of the people, at it's very best. And yet design culture seems to be very hell-bent on separating itself from average man. Like I think Robert Williams' work is so much more important than Milton Glaser's. I love Milton Glaser's work, and there was a time when his stuff was more important than Robert Williams', but Robert Williams right now is far more important than him. And I've never really cared much for Paul Rand's work, but Lester Beall and William Golden, who seem to be his inspirations, I think were brilliant, and very important to the history of our culture.
Roto:		But they probably weren't as good at self-promotion.
Chantry:		Well, they died! [laughs] Paul Rand simply fuckin' lived forever! That helps, that really helps. Survival.
Roto:		And just being able to build up enough...
Chantry:		Crap? And to walk around and say "I'm God, I'm God, I'm God," there's a certain number of people who're gonna say "hey look, it's God!" Paul Rand was really good at that.
Roto:		There was an interview with him shortly before he died in I.D. magazine where he was talking about...
Chantry:		Yeah, I read that.
Roto:		Yeah, where his deal with doing new work was that he'd only deal with the CEO of the company, he wouldn't deal with the marketing department, he'd just walk in to the CEO with a board and say "here's your new logo."
Chantry:		Well, the presentation of "that's your new logo," that's kind of arrogant, but the idea of dealing directly with the decision maker is really smart, because in graphic design, I've found for myself, I can't deal with bureaucracies. Because I need to deal with people who can actually make decisions. And when you deal with people who can't make decisions, you end up with a mess, and it really ruins the design process. You need to have as direct contact with the decision makers as you possibly can have, or it's just gonna fall apart. That's why I like working with independent, small [record] labels. Because I'm dealing directly with the label owner, the bands, and we can collaborate. Because this is a collaborative art form. Everything I've done is a collaboration with somebody, you know? When you're dealing with a major record label, you don't have collaboration, you're dealing with a front man. And the front man, they're always the friendliest, most wonderful people, and they promise you anything, but before they can actually say yes or no they've got to check with the boss. And the boss goes "no." And all of a sudden, "sorry, company policy," and all hell breaks loose. By the time you go through this process, it ends up winnowing down to dreck. And then they figure out how not to pay you. The worst money collection problems I've ever had have been from the major labels and major corporations. They are really good at not paying. They don't get rich by giving their money away. Whereas I've found with small labels and small businesses and stuff, the only credit they can muster is their own integrity. So they have to pay you, or nobody will work with them! And they go out of business. And I've found that to be a much more agreeable situation. Because they have to work on a one on one basis. Whereas the big corporations don't give a shit about the individual at all.
Roto:		So you don't do any major label work at all now?
Chantry:		I've tried. I've tried working with them, especially if the situation looks agreeable and favorable, but every single time it's been a disaster, on one front or another. Every single time. And, I'm starting to think that I have to generate a policy that I've got to charge them like a bazillion dollars, and it's gotta be paid up front, non-refundable, and then I can feel comfortable about getting dicked around creatively, and emotionally, and schedule-wise.
Roto:		Would that make it comfortable? Is there an amount of money that would make that worthwhile?
Chantry:		Well, frankly, I make so little money that, yeah. That would be really good. I mean, I have a very low sell-out price, to be quite honest. Everybody seems to think I have all this integrity, but the truth is like, fuck, if somebody comes along waving a big chunk of cash in my face, I really start to salivate. I really do, I just can't help it. I've got debts. At the same time, it really doesn't always end up being your best work.
Roto:		Do you have a lot of bands working for major labels asking for you that you end up having to turn down?
Chantry:		I have, but the major labels and the bands I work with aren't really major label material. They're not mainstream music. I mean, can you imagine the Mono Men recording for Warner Brothers?
Roto:		I can imagine them being asked, I can't imagine them doing it.
Chantry:		Well, they have been courted many times, and a couple people in the band over the years have said "well, maybe we ought to consider it," and Dave Crider, who owns Estrus, was also in the Mono Men, and the Mono Men was a democracy, although Dave's opinions, because he's a cuss, tended to have some heavy weight to them, and his attitude toward the major labels was like "well, fine, you can go deal with the major labels all you want, but sooner or later if they want to deal with the Mono Men, they're gonna have to deal with me, and I control most of the songs, and I'm an asshole. [laughs] So, I'm gonna deal tough. So you can get wined and dined, and you can agree to anything you want, but sooner or later they're gonna have to deal with me, and they're not gonna ream me out." So they went "Yeah, you're right, fuck that," and went back to what they were doing.
Roto:		Well, nothing against them, but I can't imagine they'd sell a ton more records just by being on a major label.
Chantry:		Promotion machines can't be denied. Major labels can sell absolute rubbish to everybody, and constantly prove their ability to do so over and over and over again. It can take really bad music and sell it to Joe Average Public, I think the idea of taking music that might be obscure, but good music, and maybe not genre-oriented as much as their stuff is, and could probably do all of us a big aesthetic service by selling a lot of more interesting music, but they don't do that because their decisions are made by marketing departments, they're not aesthetic or philosophical decisions.
Roto:		I think it's just pure luck!
Chantry:		No, Mariah Carey is not pure luck. Okay? That's not pure luck. That's machinery.
Roto:		But just from having worked at a record store and knowing people who've worked at record stores and seeing the sheer amount of records that get released from people who are never heard of again...
Chantry:		Well, it depends on the labels, too, but you can see the ones that have the bigger push behind it and are brought to public attention the more money is spent. I think they'd do better by putting out fewer records, but spending more money researching who they're putting out, and how to sell it more effectively. Indie labels have to do that, they have to figure out how to sell more obscure music to a smaller audience, which is more like being a sniper. That's the way I kind of look at graphic design, too, in the world of advertising. I mean, advertising is like an A-Bomb, they try to take out as many people as they can with a buck. "Television! Ads in Time Magazine! Big headlines! Blam!" But graphic design's more market specific, you're trying to take out certain people, it's more like being a sniper. I think indies have to work more like snipers. They have to be very very very savvy about who they're going after, and how to reach them, and what kind of music they're going to buy. Or what kind of music that you want to put out — who to sell it to. I mean they're not really trying to put out music to sell, they're putting out music they love. And they try to figure out who they need to sell it to, and they go through with that process. Whereas, major labels, again, they want to sell to everybody. They want a fuckin' 'nother Michael Jackson. It's a different concept in recording, and it's a different concept in marketing.
Roto:		And with an indie you build up a certain amount of trust with people. There are people who buy everything that comes out on Estrus. Nobody's buying everything that comes out on Warner Brothers.
Chantry:		Well, that used to be more true than it is now. I think that whole indie trust part has just fallen apart, and people are more interested in, umm, well, I mean sales are dropping for everybody, including indies. The major labels are hurting and the indies are hurting too. It's across the board. People have become disillusioned by music in general, and I can blame the Alternative Nation marketing program for that. Alternative Nation — alternative to what? Calling Pearl Jam an alternative band, it's like, give me a break.
Roto:		And they're hardly the worst offender.
Chantry:		They're not the worst offender, there's a hell of a lot worse. All those bands with names that put out records that get on the charts that are obviously put together by major record companies for the specific purpose of selling records to kids. As was Pearl Jam, they were an industry concoction, they weren't something that evolved in normal circumstances. Eddie Vedder was basically shoved onto the wreckage of Mother Love Bone after Andrew Wood's death, and their record label, who they owed money to, and Eddie Vedder owed money to said "here's your new single, make a band. We're gonna cash in on this 'grunge' thing." To think they evolved out of any kind of normal circumstances is just a fallacy. [pause] Any other questions?
Roto:		It just seems like, post-Nirvana, everything is marketed as "Alternative."
Chantry:		Yeah, the whole idea of "Alternative" is kind of a hilarious label anyway. You saw all those heavy metal bands cutting their hair and wearing plaid shirts all thinking they're alternative bands. I mean, what the fuck was that? It's was just marketing. I mean, the whole word "grunge" was a marketing strategy. It was a brilliant piece of marketing, and somewhere in the middle of that was Seattle, and talented, talented people like Kurt Cobain, who struck nerves. And it fuckin' worked, largely on the back of a handful of extremely experienced, unprofessional, talented musicians. A lot of those bands had been playing around Seattle in one form or another for 20 years, for Christ's sakes! They weren't schmucks, you know? They knew what they were doing. But those days are so over now. Who cares. That's old history.
Roto:		I imagine there's a certain amount of tourist trade that still comes for that, though.
Chantry:		Yeah, yeah. But there's no music in Seattle any more. Remember what San Francisco was like during the Haight, right? And all that crazy shit going on? And then by the time it mainstreamed, and everybody moved to San Francisco, and by then heroin had taken over and all the bands had gotten rich and moved away, and all the hippies there were like middle class kids trying to be bohemian? Five years after the explosion, there was nothing going on in San Francisco. [laughs] It took all the way until maybe about the punk era for it to emerge as any kind of musical force. And Seattle's kind of five years after the fact now, and it's just deadly boring. There's just nothing going on here.
Roto:		Well, I don't know if it's the same here, but it's still being sold as a big tourist attraction down there.
Chantry:		Yeah, at the same time, the tourist attraction qualities — this city did everything possible to kill that rock scene. They banned postering, the state legislature made obscene lyrics on rock records illegal to sell to anyone under the age of 18, and anybody who sold a record that had a dirty word on it, A.K.A. Nirvana, to anybody under 18 was nailed with a contributing to the delinquency of a minor charge. At the same time the governor of the state of Washington who signed that law into practice was touting the wonders of grunge and Nirvana in the state of the state message, and talking about how it was gonna attract billions of dollars of commerce in tourist trade. So there's always been a yin/yang up here in the Northwest. For every fuckin' Microsoft or Bill Gates there's a Twin Peaks and Ted Bundy. The rock 'n' roll scene came out of the dark side. The Seattle tourist industry is from the light side. There's always that crux problem. Seattle will always have that. Right now, the light side is in ascendency, and Microsoft yuppie culture has taken over this city like nothing I've ever seen. They've basically bulldozed Seattle and rebuilt it the last 10 years. All the interesting parts of town, all the little shops, and the bohemian subcultural areas are now yuppie condos. It's gone. There's no place for people to hang out and meet each other in this town. It's really fuckin' hard in this town.
Roto:		It's kind of the same thing back home [San Francisco], all the industrial nothing areas of the city, all the places that were warehouses and car repair places...
Chantry:		San Francisco may be the only market I can think of that's tougher than Seattle as far as growth and overcrowding, and everybody's been there first and taken it. Being a graphic designer in San Francisco must be worse than Seattle. I think Seattle's catching up fast. At this point it's the second toughest market for graphic design in the world. San Francisco's the worst. In my estimation, from what I've seen.
At this point, we wrapped up the recorded part of the interview, but I was allowed to hang around while Julie Lasky interviewed him about his poster design work for the excellent book Some People Can't Surf. We saw everything from his very first band flyer (A xerox promoting an Avengers show) to his more recent work for Estrus Records. Following is a gallery featuring a random selection of Art's record cover designs. Enjoy the show!