EXPERIMENTAL JETSET
Interview by Joanna Alpe & Livia Lima
Experimental Jetset are a design studio in Amsterdam that are well known for being one of the most inventive design teams in Europe. Erwin, Marieke and Danny are best friends and have been partners in crime for 11 years. They have a wide range of influences, ranging from visual through musical. We got to hang out with them in Wellington and found out that these Ruby Suns loving designers are also really nice people.
Cheese on Toast: Some of our readers might not be that familiar with what you do - can you give us the low down/overview... the radio edit version if you like?
Experimental Jetset: We're Experimental Jetset, a small graphic design studio from Amsterdam, the Netherlands. We consist of three people: Marieke Stolk, Erwin Brinkers and Danny van den Dungen. We started Experimental Jetset in 1997, right after we graduated from the Gerrit Rietveld Academy.
We see ourselves as quite straight-forward, traditional designers: just three people in a small studio, working hard, trying our best to create stuff that has a certain aesthetic and conceptual integrity. In a way, we feel as if we are just "doing our job". So we're always quite surprised that so many people ask us to do interviews, workshops, lectures. Sometimes it feels a bit like 'Being There', the movie starring Peter Sellers. We always suspect that people hold us for something that we aren't, that they project all kinds of things on us, while we are really just a minuscule design studio from Amsterdam. We are sometimes afraid that people expect too much from us, and that we can only disappoint them. We know, this sounds a bit depressing, but it's true.
COT: How did you guys meet and what was the catalyst for creating Experimental Jetset?
EJ: We all met at the Gerrit Rietveld Academy. Danny and Marieke (who were in the same class together) were working on the redesign of Blvd (Boulevard), a Dutch magazine about pop culture. This was an 'outside-of-school' assignment, but somehow we managed to use this assignment also as our graduation project. The redesign of Blvd was a huge project, so we asked Erwin, who was in another class (a year below us), to help us out. That's the first time the three of us worked together.
Experimental Jetset: We're Experimental Jetset, a small graphic design studio from Amsterdam, the Netherlands. We consist of three people: Marieke Stolk, Erwin Brinkers and Danny van den Dungen. We started Experimental Jetset in 1997, right after we graduated from the Gerrit Rietveld Academy.
We see ourselves as quite straight-forward, traditional designers: just three people in a small studio, working hard, trying our best to create stuff that has a certain aesthetic and conceptual integrity. In a way, we feel as if we are just "doing our job". So we're always quite surprised that so many people ask us to do interviews, workshops, lectures. Sometimes it feels a bit like 'Being There', the movie starring Peter Sellers. We always suspect that people hold us for something that we aren't, that they project all kinds of things on us, while we are really just a minuscule design studio from Amsterdam. We are sometimes afraid that people expect too much from us, and that we can only disappoint them. We know, this sounds a bit depressing, but it's true.
COT: How did you guys meet and what was the catalyst for creating Experimental Jetset?
EJ: We all met at the Gerrit Rietveld Academy. Danny and Marieke (who were in the same class together) were working on the redesign of Blvd (Boulevard), a Dutch magazine about pop culture. This was an 'outside-of-school' assignment, but somehow we managed to use this assignment also as our graduation project. The redesign of Blvd was a huge project, so we asked Erwin, who was in another class (a year below us), to help us out. That's the first time the three of us worked together.
COT: How did you get your first client?
EJ: In a way, it was our first client (Blvd Magazine) that brought us three together. And the reason why the editors of Blvd asked us to redesign their magazine was because of the flyers for Paradiso (an Amsterdam rock venue) that Marieke and Danny had already been designing since 1995, while they were students at the Rietveld. A selection of these very early flyers can be seen on our website .
COT: What are the thoughts behind using a limited graphic visual language in your designs (using mostly white paper stock, using limited variations of typefaces, limited colour palates etc)?
EJ: There are many reasons for that: personal reasons, ideological reasons, aesthetic reasons. But it really comes down to the fact that we find it interesting to explore just how a limited amount of standard elements can be combined into an almost endless amount of possibilities.
That's also what we find so interesting about pop music and rock culture. There are all these standard formats: the four-piece band (guitar, bass, vocals, drums), the three-minute song, the verse-chorus structure. But somehow, all these standard elements form together an immense universe of bands and songs, covering every possible aspect of life, from love to hate, from politics to poetry. We think that's really fascinating.
EJ: In a way, it was our first client (Blvd Magazine) that brought us three together. And the reason why the editors of Blvd asked us to redesign their magazine was because of the flyers for Paradiso (an Amsterdam rock venue) that Marieke and Danny had already been designing since 1995, while they were students at the Rietveld. A selection of these very early flyers can be seen on our website .
COT: What are the thoughts behind using a limited graphic visual language in your designs (using mostly white paper stock, using limited variations of typefaces, limited colour palates etc)?
EJ: There are many reasons for that: personal reasons, ideological reasons, aesthetic reasons. But it really comes down to the fact that we find it interesting to explore just how a limited amount of standard elements can be combined into an almost endless amount of possibilities.
That's also what we find so interesting about pop music and rock culture. There are all these standard formats: the four-piece band (guitar, bass, vocals, drums), the three-minute song, the verse-chorus structure. But somehow, all these standard elements form together an immense universe of bands and songs, covering every possible aspect of life, from love to hate, from politics to poetry. We think that's really fascinating.
COT: Would you say there a subversive approach in your work?
EJ: We would certainly say that, in the sense that we think that any aesthetic practice has a subversive potential (and when we say 'aesthetics', we aren't talking about just the composition of forms, but also the composition of ideas, concepts and references). Look at the Beatles: they were subversive, not because of their political messages, but because of the aesthetics of their music. That is the model we are inspired by.
COT: Creative partnerships can be tricky waters to negotiate at times - be it in a band or in a design studio. How do you guys think you have managed to keep your relationships strong and stay together over the 11 years?
EJ: As individuals, we are quite oversensitive: we can't handle stress very well, we are nervous wrecks, migraine fodder. It's only when the three of us are together that we feel completely safe, that we can deal with the stress, tension and daily deadlines that come with graphic design. We are not only colleagues, but also neighbours, and best friends. At times, it feels as if we are a band, a cult, or a gang (to reference The Clash, 'the last gang in town').
It's funny, in the plane to New Zealand we were watching the classic West Side Story, a musical we've seen a million times before, but only now we suddenly realised that the gang in the movie was called The Jets. "When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way / From your first cigarette to your last dying day". Childish maybe, but it gave us a boost of energy.
COT: Some of our favourite bands are musicians who have an art school background, in New Zealand the Mint Chicks are are good example of this. For us this is because the music and the visuals have an innate and unquestionable integrity to each other. What are your thoughts on the relationship between music and visual arts, and have you got any favourite bands that are also visual artists as well?
EJ: You know, the strange thing is, some of our favourite bands have the most horrible sleeves. So in many cases, we think that the link between music and visuals is not as innate and unquestionable as you suggest in your question. This was something that kept us quite occupied in the 90s: why is it that so many good US bands have terrible sleeves, while so many bad UK bands have excellent sleeves? We suspect that a lot of 90s indie US bands really distrusted good design, and were almost afraid to have iconic sleeves. So a lot of the US bands had quite poor sleeves. On the other side of the ocean, most English sleeves looked really good, while the bands weren't so good at all.
So we sometimes fantasized: imagine that US bands had UK sleeves. It would be utopia. On the other hand, maybe it would be too perfect, too complete, if every good band also would have a really good sleeve. Maybe it's a good thing that you are sometimes forced to look through bad design in order to discover good music. Otherwise it would be just too easy.
We realize we are sidestepping the issue here; we are aware that there is a whole tradition of art academy bands, from Roxy Music to Sonic Youth, and that there is a lot to say about the relationship between visual art and rock music. It's a subject that really interests us, but it's such a broad subject; it's impossible to just sketch our thoughts in a short answer.
Obviously, there are some really good albums that have beautiful sleeves; the first example that comes to mind is the Beatles' White Album, designed by Richard Hamilton. Perfect, both music- and design-wise. But in general, when we say that we are inspired by pop and rock, we aren't necessarily talking about the sleeves. Rather than the visual aesthetics, we feel sometimes more inspired by the musical aesthetics. A certain sense of rhythm, of structure, of progression; that is what we find inspiring, and what we try to translate graphically in our work.
COT: What are some of your favourite art and music movements?
EJ: First of all, the obvious early modernist movements: Dada, Futurism, Bauhaus, De Stijl. Added to that, we are also very much influenced by the later modernist language of designers such as Wim Crouwel, a language that shaped the graphic landscape of the Netherlands in the 70s, the landscape in which we grew up. We regard this late modernist language almost as our mother tongue, our cultural heritage. Another big influence is Provo, an Amsterdam anarchist movement that existed between 1965 and 1967, a movement that shaped Dutch culture forever. Marieke's father, Rob Stolk, was actually one of the main founders of this movement.
Then there are all these other movements we are interested in: Fluxus, Concrete Poetry, Tropicalia. And obviously Punk; Punk has definitely been one of our biggest influences. Although we were too young to participate actively in the original Punk explosion (being preteens in 1977), we still feel the impact of it on our lives. As teenagers, in the mid-80s, we were completely absorbed by all kinds of post-Punk movements: Psychobilly, New Wave, Two Tone, American Hardcore. What intrigued us was not only the music, but also the graphic manifestations of it: record sleeves, badges, patches, t-shirts, flyers, posters, magazines, band logos, mix tapes. We are absolutely sure that it was this whole DIY-culture that made us aware of graphic design, that stimulated our interest in it, and ultimately led to the decision to become graphic designers.
COT: What do you think of the 'line' between artists and designers? Are designers artists? What are your thoughts on this? We think this is part of the thinkers as makers, makers as thinkers discussion which we are quite interested in...
EJ: This question is obviously a minefield, and you would need a whole book, if not a complete library, to explore the relationship between art and design. But if we had to put it in a very oversimplified way, we would describe it as follows: in our opinion, design is not a form of art; art is a form of design. It is of course really difficult to define art, but it is clear there exists a very concrete infrastructure in which art functions: galleries, museums, catalogs, magazines, critics, institutions, theory, history. Art is the production of objects and activities to function within this given infrastructure, and in our view, this form of cultural production can certainly be seen as a very specific form of design.
By grounding art so firmly in a material infrastructure we are not dismissing or disrespecting art; on the contrary. We see art as a very real, concrete activity. Our remark that art is a form of design is not meant as an insult, or as a way to turn art into something banal; not at all. Critically shaping the world around us: we have nothing but respect for artists.
The 'thinkers as makers, makers as thinkers' discussion is something we formulated more recently. It is certainly related to the whole 'art vs. design' issue we described above, but it's slightly more complicated to explain. In short, we feel sometimes extremely sad about the existing separation between intellectual and manual labour, between 'creative' and 'non-creative' jobs, between work and play. We really yearn for that utopian state in which every human activity is seen as a form of creativity. It's hard to describe in a few single sentences; we tried to explore it in more detail in an interview we did a couple of months ago for an English school project; see www.experimentaljetset.nl/archive/sbook6interview.html .
We realize we are sidestepping the issue here; we are aware that there is a whole tradition of art academy bands, from Roxy Music to Sonic Youth, and that there is a lot to say about the relationship between visual art and rock music. It's a subject that really interests us, but it's such a broad subject; it's impossible to just sketch our thoughts in a short answer.
Obviously, there are some really good albums that have beautiful sleeves; the first example that comes to mind is the Beatles' White Album, designed by Richard Hamilton. Perfect, both music- and design-wise. But in general, when we say that we are inspired by pop and rock, we aren't necessarily talking about the sleeves. Rather than the visual aesthetics, we feel sometimes more inspired by the musical aesthetics. A certain sense of rhythm, of structure, of progression; that is what we find inspiring, and what we try to translate graphically in our work.
COT: What are some of your favourite art and music movements?
EJ: First of all, the obvious early modernist movements: Dada, Futurism, Bauhaus, De Stijl. Added to that, we are also very much influenced by the later modernist language of designers such as Wim Crouwel, a language that shaped the graphic landscape of the Netherlands in the 70s, the landscape in which we grew up. We regard this late modernist language almost as our mother tongue, our cultural heritage. Another big influence is Provo, an Amsterdam anarchist movement that existed between 1965 and 1967, a movement that shaped Dutch culture forever. Marieke's father, Rob Stolk, was actually one of the main founders of this movement.
Then there are all these other movements we are interested in: Fluxus, Concrete Poetry, Tropicalia. And obviously Punk; Punk has definitely been one of our biggest influences. Although we were too young to participate actively in the original Punk explosion (being preteens in 1977), we still feel the impact of it on our lives. As teenagers, in the mid-80s, we were completely absorbed by all kinds of post-Punk movements: Psychobilly, New Wave, Two Tone, American Hardcore. What intrigued us was not only the music, but also the graphic manifestations of it: record sleeves, badges, patches, t-shirts, flyers, posters, magazines, band logos, mix tapes. We are absolutely sure that it was this whole DIY-culture that made us aware of graphic design, that stimulated our interest in it, and ultimately led to the decision to become graphic designers.
COT: What do you think of the 'line' between artists and designers? Are designers artists? What are your thoughts on this? We think this is part of the thinkers as makers, makers as thinkers discussion which we are quite interested in...
EJ: This question is obviously a minefield, and you would need a whole book, if not a complete library, to explore the relationship between art and design. But if we had to put it in a very oversimplified way, we would describe it as follows: in our opinion, design is not a form of art; art is a form of design. It is of course really difficult to define art, but it is clear there exists a very concrete infrastructure in which art functions: galleries, museums, catalogs, magazines, critics, institutions, theory, history. Art is the production of objects and activities to function within this given infrastructure, and in our view, this form of cultural production can certainly be seen as a very specific form of design.
By grounding art so firmly in a material infrastructure we are not dismissing or disrespecting art; on the contrary. We see art as a very real, concrete activity. Our remark that art is a form of design is not meant as an insult, or as a way to turn art into something banal; not at all. Critically shaping the world around us: we have nothing but respect for artists.
The 'thinkers as makers, makers as thinkers' discussion is something we formulated more recently. It is certainly related to the whole 'art vs. design' issue we described above, but it's slightly more complicated to explain. In short, we feel sometimes extremely sad about the existing separation between intellectual and manual labour, between 'creative' and 'non-creative' jobs, between work and play. We really yearn for that utopian state in which every human activity is seen as a form of creativity. It's hard to describe in a few single sentences; we tried to explore it in more detail in an interview we did a couple of months ago for an English school project; see www.experimentaljetset.nl/archive/sbook6interview.html .
COT: It was cool to hang out with you guys at some gigs at SFBH and also Mighty Mighty, seeing local and international acts over the last few nights. Was the New Zealand live music scene what you were expecting to find?
EJ: To be honest, we didn't expect anything. Not that we had low expectations; not at all. But we were just so nervously focused on the lecture that we had to do; we just blocked out any other thoughts about New Zealand. We travelled to NZ thinking about the conference, we didn't expect to do anything else. It was only after our lecture that we thought we could relax.
But we really had a good time at SFBH and the Mighty Mighty with you girls. The Ruby Suns were excellent, the party at the Mighty Mighty was awesome. We certainly experienced the rock and roll spirit of New Zealand. In many ways, New Zealand resembles this mythical rock and roll landscape of California in the 50s and 60s: the spaciousness of the architecture, the beach and car culture, the whole suburban feel. While we're writing this, the Chills' 'I Love My Leather Jacket' comes to mind, as it is a NZ celebration of a typical rock and roll icon (the leather jacket) as well. So yeah. We really enjoyed NZ.
COT: Leading on from that, and we realise this could be hard to answer as you have only been in New Zealand a relatively short time, but what are your impressions of the state of design here?
EJ: We were already aware of some aspects of NZ graphic design. We already knew David Bennewith and The National Grid. We also knew Layla Tweedie-Cullen (of Narrow Gauge and the S/F bookstore), as she used to be one of our students at the Rietveld Academy. So we already knew a thing or two about New Zealand. And, having spoken with a lot of designers, students and teachers during the conference, we have to say we think that New Zealand has an extremely interesting and vital graphic design scene. There seem to be all kinds of things happening, there is an awesome awareness about NZ design history (as illustrated by David Bennewith's ongoing project about Joseph Churchward), there are all kinds of academies and schools... It's quite an impressive subculture.
Sure, there is this sense of New Zealand as 'the middle of nowhere', and as 'the edge of the universe', but these sentiments live mainly within the New Zealanders themselves. We, as foreigners, have never thought of NZ in such a way. Our ideas about NZ have always been positive, even before we got there. The Chills, the Dead C, Flying Nun, the Ruby Suns. "There's a fraction too much friction". What's not to like?
To be a graphic designer in a country that is still so wide-open (we're talking about NZ here) must be exciting. In the Netherlands, design culture is very dominant. We like it that way, we're not complaining, but what we mean is this: as a design group, we know that our influence on Dutch design culture will be minimal. Even if we, as studio, wouldn't exist, Dutch design would be going strong as ever. Our contribution to Duch design culture can only be small; it's almost impossible to shape the monolith that is Dutch design.
In New Zealand, you have the feeling that every designer really counts. As a young designer, you have the possibility to really change national design culture, to have a voice. Young designers, such as David Bennewith and guys behind The National Grid, are really shaping the image of NZ design. There are scenes to create, standards to be set. Young NZ designers have a world to win. That's something really special.
EJ: To be honest, we didn't expect anything. Not that we had low expectations; not at all. But we were just so nervously focused on the lecture that we had to do; we just blocked out any other thoughts about New Zealand. We travelled to NZ thinking about the conference, we didn't expect to do anything else. It was only after our lecture that we thought we could relax.
But we really had a good time at SFBH and the Mighty Mighty with you girls. The Ruby Suns were excellent, the party at the Mighty Mighty was awesome. We certainly experienced the rock and roll spirit of New Zealand. In many ways, New Zealand resembles this mythical rock and roll landscape of California in the 50s and 60s: the spaciousness of the architecture, the beach and car culture, the whole suburban feel. While we're writing this, the Chills' 'I Love My Leather Jacket' comes to mind, as it is a NZ celebration of a typical rock and roll icon (the leather jacket) as well. So yeah. We really enjoyed NZ.
COT: Leading on from that, and we realise this could be hard to answer as you have only been in New Zealand a relatively short time, but what are your impressions of the state of design here?
EJ: We were already aware of some aspects of NZ graphic design. We already knew David Bennewith and The National Grid. We also knew Layla Tweedie-Cullen (of Narrow Gauge and the S/F bookstore), as she used to be one of our students at the Rietveld Academy. So we already knew a thing or two about New Zealand. And, having spoken with a lot of designers, students and teachers during the conference, we have to say we think that New Zealand has an extremely interesting and vital graphic design scene. There seem to be all kinds of things happening, there is an awesome awareness about NZ design history (as illustrated by David Bennewith's ongoing project about Joseph Churchward), there are all kinds of academies and schools... It's quite an impressive subculture.
Sure, there is this sense of New Zealand as 'the middle of nowhere', and as 'the edge of the universe', but these sentiments live mainly within the New Zealanders themselves. We, as foreigners, have never thought of NZ in such a way. Our ideas about NZ have always been positive, even before we got there. The Chills, the Dead C, Flying Nun, the Ruby Suns. "There's a fraction too much friction". What's not to like?
To be a graphic designer in a country that is still so wide-open (we're talking about NZ here) must be exciting. In the Netherlands, design culture is very dominant. We like it that way, we're not complaining, but what we mean is this: as a design group, we know that our influence on Dutch design culture will be minimal. Even if we, as studio, wouldn't exist, Dutch design would be going strong as ever. Our contribution to Duch design culture can only be small; it's almost impossible to shape the monolith that is Dutch design.
In New Zealand, you have the feeling that every designer really counts. As a young designer, you have the possibility to really change national design culture, to have a voice. Young designers, such as David Bennewith and guys behind The National Grid, are really shaping the image of NZ design. There are scenes to create, standards to be set. Young NZ designers have a world to win. That's something really special.