Draplin Design Co.: Pretty Much Everything

770 Pages·2016·33.68 MB·English

by  Aaron Draplin

Table of Contents
Welcome
Growing Up
Leaving The Nest
Gainful Employment
Independence
Risky Business
DDC Merch
Field Notes
Rock-n-Roll Efforts
Logos, Logos, Logos
The Open Road
Rescue Efforts
Multiple Impressions
Sharing The Mess
Thick Lines
DDC Factory Floor
Tall Tales World Tour
Dad
Mom
Appreciation
Didn’t Think It Would Come to This
I didn’t get into this stuff with the goal of making a book. I just wanted to make
a life in art. And typing this, it hits me—I did it.
Early Influences
My cousin Tom Draplin is the first person I looked up to in the art world. He had
the cool sketchbooks and colored pencils and was a natural artist. I remember
seeing bits of drawings and illustration from his time at Parsons in New York
City. Tom was also the first person who inspired me to hit the road. Tom made it
out of Detroit to the big leagues of art school, and that was always something I’d
think about when weighing my options as graduation from high school neared.
I first learned about Charles S. Anderson at Northwestern Michigan College,
from a French Paper poster promotion floating around the design studio. It was
in a big pile of paper promos being kicked around, and somehow it ended up in
my little cubicle. I studied that thing ferociously. His work was an incredible
mix of type, illustration and wit. Which led me to the mighty CSA Archive in
Minneapolis. I was hooked right away. There was an appreciation for the past,
and yet it all felt fresh, considered and respectful. Chuck will always be my
design hero, and I’m proud to consider him a friend and mentor. We’ve slayed
some pretty serious pork chops over dinner in Minneapolis!
In the fall of 1997, I did my very first East Coast road trip. Starting from my
parents’ home in Michigan, I went all the way to Portland, Maine. Then to
Boston, New York, Philly, and all the way down to the doorstep of House
Industries in Wilmington, Delaware. I loved their beautiful design, detailed
typography and sense of humor. I knocked on the door and a confused Andy
Cruz answered. “My name’s Aaron Draplin. I’m here to buy some fonts.” He
was a bit startled but let me in. They gave me the full tour and loaded me up
with so much cool shit. They didn’t have to accommodate my nerdy curiosity
that afternoon, but still made time for me. And in turn made a lifetime fan with
that little moment of spontaneous hospitality.
A Company, But Not A Company
When I got going in the mid-’90s, the design world was at the height of the post-
post-postmodern design craze, with the wild forms, damaged text and
post-postmodern design craze, with the wild forms, damaged text and
provocative boundary pushing. All the companies sounded technological,
dizzying and cold. I liked the idea of using my name in my “thing.” And yet,
you’d meet a couple turds who were a “company” and they’d act the part. With
all the pomp, plural-speak and lofty aspirations. And I set out to poke fun at that
shit, and it stuck. Speaking in third person, and yet, the whole time, it’s just little
ol’ me. That was funny to me when I had nothing, and still is, with a shop filled
with equipment and treasures. I guess it was a reaction to designers who took
themselves a little too seriously. So why not blow it out of the water, right? So I
did. The “we” and “us” of the Draplin Design Co. was just me. This whole time.
Secret’s out! I call my shop a “shop.” Just like my dad did. Not a “studio.” Not a
“space.” Not a “multidisciplinary, form-challenging, content-resuscitating,
image-recontextualizing, language-defetishizing firm/studio/collective/fart
chamber” a couple wheezebag Yale grad student pricks are starting. Anything
but that bullshit.
Blue Collar? In Spirit, at Least
I always squirm when interviewers or fans ask me about how the “blue collar”
quality of my work and way of doing business. Let’s get something very, very
straight: This is a white collar profession. And, can be embarrassingly
pretentious. Could I apply some of the simple, hardworking values I’d been
around growing up to this stuff? Hell yes. Art school teaches you to elevate.
Sometimes, a little too high. I was careful to learn as much as I could, and still
be able to shoot the shit with the guys at the scrap metal yard. It’s a badge of
honor that I got myself out of the economic ruts I’d find myself in. I’ve had a
factory job pushing thousand pound tool and die molds around. I’ve trimmed
trees with roughnecks. I’ve washed dishes for five months at a stretch in Alaska.
I used design to get me out of that shit—plain and simple. Design is a trade to
me. Artist? I guess? Tradesman? Closer. Hard worker? Always, always, always.
Took it on the Chin Just Enough Times
There were some stinging moments along the way. I’ve had my my heart broken
a handful of times. Be it snowboard graphics that fell through, gigs applied for
and handed to folks who didn’t give a shit or a logo job promised and then
complete silence. I’ve had things taken away. At the start, middle and end of
jobs. And I’ll never forget that feeling. It taught me to buckle down, savor the
jobs I had and never, ever half-ass this stuff.
Six, Seven, Eight Trick Pony?
In twenty years, I’ve seen some pretty fun tricks come and go. When I started, it
was all that post-post-postmodern bullshit. Then some kind of techno thing.
was all that post-post-postmodern bullshit. Then some kind of techno thing.
Then it was being ironic. Then it was “snipped corner” thing. Then fuckin’
antlers. Then everyone became a Supply Co. of some sort. Don’t forget the Great
Ampersand Epidemic of the early 2010s! I get a lot of flak for “retro stylings” in
my work. I like things that work. Things that are time-tested. Free of superfluous
elements. The grid. I like simplicity. Straightforward solutions. I’ve tried to
develop consistent styles to work in, but pride myself on being able to deliver
what’s approporate for the client. And that always isn’t Futura Bold dipped in
Pantone Orange 021.
Busy Being Busy
Man, I’ve been busy. This stuff still doesn’t feel like a “job?” I like being in the
shop. It’s where I am the most comfortable and can maintain a big ’ol golden
buzz of productivity. At my pace. And I’ve used all the hours, weeks, months
and years to fight hard to make something out of this stuff. But I know that has a
flipside and I missed some special things around me. Allow me to take this
opportunity to apologize to my Mom, sisters and Leigh for always being busy,
frazzled and all-consumed with this shit. But shit, I had to go for it.
Did it as Creatively as Possible
I’m proud of the effort I’ve put into my career. I can proudly say that I gave my
all to this stuff. The whole fuckin’ time. It’s a sickness, sort of. I just won’t let
myself phone something in. I’m always afraid it’ll be some lazy little decision
that is the lynch pin that get pulled, and then we go whirling off the rails. I’ve
worked my ass off in graphic design. And took advantage of the creative space it
allows. I did things as creatively as I could. With humor, a little wit and was
always careful not to take myself too seriously. What a privilege to operate
within such a cool trade.
My Proudest Paragraphs to Date
I tried to build a life in design my own way. Can you make a career out of
something on your own terms? I think you can. And yet, I still fear this stuff.
That was pounded into me from a young age: No matter how good things seem
to be, it’s up to you to keep it all going. I’m always freaked when I take my eye
off the ball. Which is irrational. My little thing has momentum, and I know it’ll
keep chugging along. But then again, a little part of me feels so insanely entitled
to write that out, and will never take my teeny nugget of success for granted.
I made this stuff my life. When something is your hobby first, the “work” part
never feels the same. I love making this stuff. And I’m hoping that’ll never
change. I’ve been lucky to pull off a killer little life in design. Let this goddamn