Modern Dog Design, Seattle

DOGGY STYLE
Modern Dog Turns 20
by matthew porter
“Modern Dog is 20? Get out. Robynne and Mike are 40-something?
Stop!” The reaction of a close friend when I told her I was in Seattle for a
story on the 20th anniversary of Modern Dog made me wince. Yes, we’re
middle-aged. Grunge is dead. Mick is nearly dead. Modern Dog is 140
(dog years).
Chronicle Books will mark the occasion with Modern Dog: 20 Years of
Poster Art (landing February ’08). So let us celebrate, too, but in a nonlinear way—no beginning, middle or end, no timelines. No candles. Unlike
time, this will be more random and inexplicable. An ocean of non sequiturs and surprises. That’s their style, what Robynne Raye, Mike Strassburger, Vito Costarella, Rob Zwiebel and the others have done for two
decades. Doggy style.
the an[n]als of design history
Robynne Raye and Mike Strassburger know their place in American design, but they are not boastful types. They know they have
a national voice, and they know they are good. But they do not
rub anyone’s nose in it. Confidence buys you freedom to be yourself, even if that self can be very bad when the mood strikes. For
example, in unabashed partisan politics (see “Pardon My French:
Fuck Bush”). Pissing off an important client (see Modern Dog Pink
Kitty Poster with Bin Laden and W among other piques and puns
embedded in the fur that infuriated client Adobe). Funny, biting, scatological, un-PC and equal-opportunity spitball hurlers
(see AssKisser Breath Spray, “Not Gay” Rainbow Magnets, Mullet
Magnets and HandzOff Anti-Masturbatory Cream, all for Blue Q).
Modern Dog has earned its place in the annals of American
design. And in the hearts of anal Americans who can only wish to
be this hip over 40.
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| december 2007
poster children
Modern Dog knows posters. Modern Dog: 20 Years of Poster Art
contains more than 200 of their best. It has a bonus for readers: a
conversation between Raye, Strassburger and their alter ego, the
Dark Lord of American Design, the rational, cerebral Rick Valicenti. “What I liked about Rick’s questions was the fact that he
didn’t try to kiss our ass,” says Raye. “He doesn’t totally ‘get’ us,
but so what? So he called us out on things we’ve heard muttered
behind our backs for years. To confront those issues face to face
was way cool.” A selection from the interview follows.
Valicenti: It seems to me that your work is the complete archaeological core sample of late 20th-century or maybe earlier American
graphics. You just sort of put it in a Cuisinart and out it comes. At
some point you have to know when you are done …
“We sell a tangible commentary on society. We leverage people’s obsessions and
pre-existing sentiments, giving it our own twist. We don’t ‘ discover.’ We mine
pre-existing veins of societal riches. And Modern Dog is very good at helping
us tap those veins and serve society what they want.”
—Mitch Nash of Blue Q, purveyors of Cat Butt, Total Bitch, Phallic Produce, Mullet Magnets, Virgin/Slut, AssKisser,
HandzOff Anti-Masturbatory Cream and other abominations before Our Lord.
left: 50 cent (2003). house of blues poster advertising 50 cent’s sold-out seattle show. designer/illustrator: michael strassburger.
above: modern dog ohio (1996). poster announcing two modern dog lectures in
ohio. designer/illustrator: strassburger.
step inside design Raye: Over time you develop an eye for what you are doing, and
it’s intuitive. We use a gut instinct when it comes to stopping.
Valicenti: I would say the intuition that comes through for me
walks the thin line between “I wanted it just that way” or “I didn’t
give a shit and ran out of time.”
ms © rr / rr © ms, now more than ever
Few know that Strassburger and Raye were once intimately
involved. They met at KUGS, the Western Washington University radio station. Raye did not enjoy an easy youth. Her mother
suffered from severe mental illness, and Robynne ran away from
home at 16. A good friend’s kind family looked after her until she
went to college.
Strassburger, on the other hand, enjoyed a happy life in a small
town. His mom is Hawaiian of Filipino descent; his dad came
from German stock. Mike is from Richland, Wash., a town in
western Washington known for its atomic bombs and high school
team, The Bombers. Whether it was due to his original DNA or
a mutation caused by fallout, he grew to be delightfully off register. You never know what is going to come out of his mouth—and
onto a page, a website, a blog, a lapel button seconds later. Smart,
quick, generous, spontaneous and always smiling, he was the perfect antidote to the deliciously darker and equally brilliant mind
of Robynne Raye. She says, “We met in 1983. We were 19. He was
my best friend. He made me laugh. And back then I needed to
laugh more.”
The two started a business and worked hard. They began saving money to buy a first house. Stress began to take its toll. Recalls
Raye, “I finally said, ‘Hey Mike, fuck it all. Let’s travel.’ We
bought tickets to travel the world for six months.”
In Europe they traveled separately. They both needed some
space. They met up again to travel together in India (“We felt
safer that way,” says Raye.) It was in India that two life-changing
things happened. “We decided that we could no longer be in an
intimate relationship, but we would try hard to maintain the bond
of friendship. Then I got really sick from dysentery. Mike had to
nurse me back to health.”
That was the second lesson: They could always rely on each
other. Raye got better, and they continued on their journey.
Twenty-five years later, that journey continues.*
la maison du chien modern
I had developed a mental picture of Modern Dog’s workspace. I
figured these random-rule-breakers would dwell in a well-ordered
world, the opposite of their public personae … like Mies Van der
Rohe, the 20th-century pioneer of modern architecture, who lived
in a cluttered, brandied Chicago Victorian surrounded by dust.
Right? Wrong.
Modern Dog lies in the funky Phinney Ridge, a neighborhood—according to the Seattle Post-Intelligencer—“where there are
three dogs for every fire hydrant.” Bungalow style, teal in color,
the house has shabby charm. Entering the place from the broad,
deep front porch, you are at once struck by the mayhem. There is
stuff everywhere. Visual cacophony. Five inhabitants. Five dogs.
(“Hey, we cleaned up for you!” protested Mike when I noted the
mess.) There is 1200 sq. ft. of office space. The living room serves
as a relax room, media room, waiting area, meeting space and
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| december 2007
museum. Scattered about are thousands of samples and small
objects as well as A/V and musical equipment in various stages of
repair or neglect. Music posters dominate the walls. Blue Q products dominate everything else. The brown leatherette sofa with
buttons looks like it was left over from Strassburger’s bachelor
days. A trash can next to it sits empty, forlorn.
Beyond the living room, the “studio” is the biggest room in the
house. It was once two rooms, both dining and bed. Above, a hole
big enough to suck in Raye, Strassburger and the intern yawns in
the ceiling. “It’s on the list!” exclaims Strassburger. The entire
staff—Raye, Strassburger, Costarella, Zwiebel and Brandy the mad
*Strassburger is married to writer Anna McAllister. They have two children, Alice and Clara, and a minivan with gold trim. Raye dates Brent Smith, a Seattle dental technician, and dotes on her two four-legged children, Cairn Terriers Conan
(O’Brien) and Winnie, the successors to beloved, departed Petey, the original Modern Dog. Raye bought her first new car in July, a tiny Honda Fit. Characteristically,
this past August she and her vehicle were featured in newspapers around the world
in an AP wire photo as an example of American car buyers’ changing preferences.
facing page: olive lump soap, olive cookie snacks (2007). product development
and packaging for olive. designer/illustrator: strassburger.
this page: Voodoo soap (1999). packaging for blue q. designer/illustrator: Vittorio costarella. wtf? sour candy (2006). product development and packaging for blue q. Designer: robynne raye; photographer (empty roll and dropped
cone): Brent R. smith. “I’m not gay, i just really love rainbows” (2007). product development and packaging for blue q. designer/copywriter: robert zwiebel. air fresheners (2004–2007). product development and packaging for blue
q. designers: strassburger, costarella; copywriters: strassburger, costarella, kelley lear; illustrators: strassburger, costarella, junichi tsuneoka.
mega-mullets magnets (2001). product development and packaging for blue q.
designer/copywriter: strassburger; illustrator: tsuneoka. handz-off antimasturbatory gum (2002). product development and packaging for blue q. designer/copywriter: strassburger; product tester: Zwiebel.
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three-name intern—fits into this one modest room. I don’t, so I
sit on the Naugahyde sofa, pitching questions that are fielded by
either Raye or Strassburger between client calls and moments of
deep thought.
To my astonishment, everyone works off 15-in. Mac PowerBooks with Wacom tablets. There is little room left for anything
else. Good thing they like each other. It’s tight. Raye can slap the
back of Strassburger’s head, as necessary. Zwiebel can reach over
and borrow Raye’s toothbrush without leaving his chair. Strassburger can talk from Raye’s phone if Costarella, behind him, is on
his. Only the intern has room to grow and mature.
The Phinney Doggy Rule is in effect: There are five real dogs
on premise: Raye’s Cairn Terriers, Winnie and Conan, who ramble and romp; Strassburger’s aged Whippet, Rosie, who snoozes
by his desk; Costarella’s sweet old Pit Bull, Carmen; and Zwiebel’s Australian Shepherd mix, Darwin, who joyfully licks everyone.
Thank god for the Cat Butt Air Freshener.
why a modern dog?
“I get asked that a lot,” sighs Raye. “Mike and I were in a car one
day when we passed some cheesy dog groomer’s sign. Mike said,
‘Now there’s a Modern Dog.’ We both thought that it would be a
good name for a company. Neither of us had a dog at the time. Even
before Mike and I got a business license, we used the name as a
credit on a poster, thinking it would hide our identity until we got
real jobs down the road. We changed our company name to Modern Dog three months after we opened the business. Before that it
was called ‘Raye-Strassburger,’ which sounded like some generic
law firm. Because we work as a collective, everyone gets individual credit for the work they do here. So the genesis of the name was
sort of random—but it’s worked well for us.”
old dog, new tricks
facing page: k2 snowboards product brochure (1995). one of many brochures
created for K2 snowboards during modern dog’s more than 10-year relationship with the client (1989–2000). designers/illustrators: strassburger, raye,
costarella, george Estrada.
this page: act theatre stationery, building signage (2001). identity system for
act theatre, seattle. designers: costarella, strassburger; building photo:
brent r. smith.
The rough edges and ceiling holes at funky 7903 Greenwood belie
the high-tech nature of the place. Strassburger at 44 looks and
thinks like a much younger man. He is all over new: toys, technology, music and media. His vigor is due in part to a strange sumo
wrestling-taekwondo-jujitsu thing that he avidly participates in. It
is hard to explain, but involves mounting other guys and manhandling them into submission. It’s rough. It’s sexy. “It’s also sick, and
his wife is worried,” adds Raye. (See him in action on YouTube at
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8dKa0oufo8U.) Beyond his physical
powers, Strassburger’s other strength is his facile mind. Inquisitive and restless, the man-wrestler seeks and uses new technologies without hesitation—even before he has gained proficiency in
them. Strassburger’s strategy is a tactic: Dive in and do it. Cannot is
not a word he often uses.
Marsha Savery of client Seattle Aquarium was surprised by
Strassburger’s versatility. “Mike is a great listener. A selfless collaborator. A parent. He’s quick and very open to ideas from others. These were reasons enough to hire him. But then he started
resolving a lot of our technical problems. He created all these new
screens on our numerous interactive kiosks. I had no idea he had
these skills in his bag of tricks. It added a whole new dimension to
his work for us.”
Gina Quiroga of Austin, Texas, appreciates the group’s collaborative process. Modern Dog is developing the identity and packaging for her start-up company Olive, maker of “Green Goods for
Modern Dogs.” Quiroga and her partner are putting their own
step inside design liz phair (2005). poster
for the crocodile cafe,
seattle. designer/illustrator: Raye.
m butterfly (1991).
poster for the seattle repertory theatre.
designer/illustrator:
strassburger.
artwalk (2002). poster
for annual neighborhood artwalk. designer/illustrator: Raye;
client: phinney neighborhood association.
damien jurado (2005).
poster for the crocodile cafe. designer/illustrator: costarella.
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| december 2007
heartbreak house
(1993). poster for seattle repertory theatre.
designer/illustrator:
costarella.
flaming lips (1994).
poster for moe’s moroccan cafe, seattle.
designer/illustrator:
costarella.
tunnel vision (2005).
poster for aiga los angeles. designer: strassburger.
fremont fair (1993).
poster for annual
event. designer/illustrator: costarella.
step inside design money into the venture. Several leading Austin designers rejected
her before she found Modern Dog through a web search.
“I had no experience with graphic design,” says Quiroga. “I certainly didn’t know Modern Dog. But from the very beginning they
included us in the process. As we went along, the dialogue led to
a broad range of Olive-branded goods. We agreed to a financial
arrangement that allows them to participate in our success and
allows us access to their exceptional skills. We couldn’t be happier.”
The Olive website goes live in the fall. There might be some
second thoughts among a few designers in Austin.
well-trained dogs
One source of Modern Dog’s steady stream of young talent has
been Cornish College of the Arts in Seattle, where both Raye and
Strassburger have taught for a decade or so. We asked many of the
interns to wish Modern Dog a Happy 140th Birthday. Unfortunately, we have room for just two gems.
Junichi Tsuneoka is from Japan. He was a student of Raye’s at
Cornish and later an intern, then an employee.
“One of my duties at Modern Dog was to take phone calls and
give Robynne and Mike precise messages. One day one of our best
clients, Mitch from Blue Q, called, and I answered the phone. ‘Hi
Jun, is Mike there?’ he asked. ‘No, he is out for lunch right now,’
I told him. ‘That bitch!’ said Mitch and hung up the phone. So I
told Mike, ‘Mitch said you are a bitch.’ Mike told me, ‘Can you call
Mitch back and say he is a bitch?’ One of my duties at Modern Dog
was to listen to my boss, so I called Mitch and said, ‘Hi Mitch, I
forgot to tell you, you are a bitch,’ and I hung up. A few minutes
later, we received a fax from Blue Q saying we were fired. It’s a true
story … of course we weren’t fired, though. There is a proof. I was
working on Cat Butt Gum package design at that moment, and I
was writing the copy on the back of the package. After this job was
done, Mitch put ‘Copy by Jun. He is a bitch.’ on the back of the
package. The gum is still sold everywhere: If you don’t believe me,
take a look at the back of the gum.”
Meg Paradise is from Scranton, Penn. She was interested in an
internship, applied three times and finally got it.
“I think a lot of times people want to look at their work and
say ‘I don’t get it. What does it mean?’ And I think they really
enjoy that. Sometimes it’s just what it seems—like the skateboarding sheep with the missing leg poster they did a while ago. Lots
of people want to know what it’s all about, but it’s exactly what it
seems—a sheep with a missing leg. It’s funny just because it is, no
deep meanings. A lot of their ideas develop really organically like
that one. They just sort of happen. One more thing: When a client
sends them a confusing e-mail, and they don’t really know what
www.hughjassel.com
modern dog: 20 years of poster art (2008). featuring 226 posters and flocks
of anecdotes, this book is published by chronicle books. introduction by steven heller, interviews by rick valicenti and james victore. designers/copywriters: raye, strassburger; inside “dog” jacket illustration: zwiebel.
[the client is] talking about, they’ll reply and say, ‘We’re not really
sure what you were talking about, but here’s a picture of a bunny
wearing a pancake for a hat.’ It really is an enjoyable image.”
barking up the right tree
So, Happy Birthday Modern Dog! Whatever you’re drinking and
eating these days, keep it up. At 20 (140), you’re still looking good.
We Americans still need your Cat Butts, Kentucky Waterfall Mullets, “I’m Not Gay I Just Really Love Rainbows” stickers, Hugh
Jassel campaigns, etc. Twenty more, please.
www.moderndog.com
Sometimes Mike Strassburger’s projects have nothing to do with paying work. He just does things to amuse himself. Take, for instance, the 2006 website for faux Republican Senatorial candidate Hugh “I’m Always Right” Jassel, a morphed and ghastly composite of Cheney, Rummy, W and George “Macaca” Allen. One has to see this to
believe it. It took hundreds of hours to design, write and produce. For fun. “I did it as a release from another horrible campaign season,” says Strassburger. “I was certain these freaks were going to win again.” They didn’t. Hugh
sure put up a fight. But was he right? You judge.
10 november
| december 2007
kinky friedman cd (2006). packaging
for shout records. designer: strassburger.
america dreaming (2007). book cover for little, brown and company. designer/illustrator: zwiebel.
hits trade magazine ad (1992). designer/illustrator: strassburger; client:
warner bros. records.
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