s a fellow Midwesterner, now living in Arizona, I’m very curious about how you landed in the Grand Canyon State.

Paul: I was born in the Twin Cities and eventually moved to the little town of New Ulm, Minnesota, where you were odd if German wasn’t your first language, and you didn’t live for polka and beer. Everyone owned their own pair of lederhosen and weren’t ashamed to wear them. I went to high school in Minneapolis. That’s where I got my first taste of design, though my parents response was, “Son, you know you can’t make any money doing that.” One thing led to another and I wound up in design school at Arizona State University.

Mike: In the words of Horace Greeley, “Go West, young man!”

P: And then back again. After graduating I moved to Minneapolis for the whole art scene and design aesthetic that was emerging there. Of course, I forgot about the winters, the shoveling, the thawing of your door locks, and the moisture in your eyeballs freezing over. Charles Anderson at CSA, my number one choice of firms, reviewed my portfolio and hired me the next day despite my having no real-world experience. I spent about two years there working on some fun projects including turning out about forty logos for Turner Classic Movies. Then one day my wife, a native Arizonan who hates the cold, got locked outside our apartment looking for a white aspirin she had dropped in the snow, sobbing the whole time. I knew my days in Minnesota were numbered.

M: So the weather chased you back to Phoenix?

P: You could say that. I immediately went into business on my own on a wing and a prayer. I got lucky right away and landed a few big clients including a tech firm that was living on the promise of the Internet and all the riches that were supposed to follow. I got in at a really good time, though I didn’t expect the whole internet bubble to pop so quickly. I moved into an office space in Tempe and hired a few other designers and an account executive and positioned myself as a boutique design firm working for larger ad agencies that were looking to expand the minds of their clients.

A couple years later I was approached by Cabell Harris President of Work, Inc. in Virginia; he’s one of the few agency people who really appreciates good work. And he tries to sell it, which is even better you know. He absorbed my company under the name Work Design. As design director, I assembled creative teams for specific projects, which means I did all the work myself. Ha ha. A year later, he wound up firing everyone but his receptionist. I was left high and dry. Since I couldn’t continue with my recent clients due to a “non-compete clause”, and most of my old clients were using other designers at that point, I took the opportunity to redirect my career to include illustration. Prior to that I felt I was losing my own voice in my work — too many clients dictating to me their style wishes. Trading your creative freedom for larger design fees can feel like slow death to anyone in the visual fields, you know? You get itchy. And you need to do something that expresses yourself.

M: So it was through illustration that you rediscovered your voice?

P: Absolutely. About that time a Toronto-based illustration rep agency named Three in a Box approached me. They had an artist on sabbatical, an artist with a very specific style, a style that resembled some work that I had been doing at the time. They asked if I could help fill the gap created by his absence, as some of their clients were demanding his style. He came back after a year, but by then I had cranked out some really great stuff that clients were pretty happy with. I still continue to market myself as a designer, but I’m to the point where I almost can’t recall the last straight design job I’ve had.

M: Can you describe your style?

P: At first it tended to be very linear, very spaghetti looking. Now it’s more “graphic and whimsical”, though I hate to describe in those terms because I’m instantly put into the “disposeable art” box. You know, some people peg Shag [Josh Agle] as whimsical as well, but I think anyone who creates reveres him as a fine artist. His work is amazing. I am very jealous of his talent and business sense. I’m not sure why some people think that if art puts a smile on your face that it’s “less-than”. Of course there are others, like Tim Biskup and the late Jim Flora, who I respect tremendously for what they can pull off with a paintbrush and a great sense for whimsical characters and composition. Some people look at their work and immediately dismiss it as Saturday morning cartoon stuff where I see masterpieces.

M: Where do you find your inspiration for your illustrations?

P: Inspiration for any style that I have probably comes from watching too many cartoons in my youth. My favorite gift that I received this year was a three DVD set of The World of Sid and Marty Krofft. Sigmund, Wonderbug, Sleestacks, Bugaloos, Lidsville; it just doesn’t get much better than that for me.

M: Can you describe your process of coming up with concepts for your design and illustrations?

P: With design, you try to be responsible and do the right thing. You do what your professors taught you to do. You’re conceptual. You do all the explaining. You say to the client, “This color palette is chosen because of this, that typestyle is chosen because of that, the logo is conceptual, see the combination of imagery, and da da da da da da da.” But many times they don’t bite off on it. Maybe it’s because their wife’s cat’s dog’s best friend is opposed to the color purple. Or they were abused as a child, locked in their closet which had a red ceiling, so they don’t like the color red in their corporate literature. So, you know, you’re screwed.

M: Then what do you do?

P: You try to be responsible the first time around, and maybe the next time you try and do something a little more self-serving and hope and pray it goes over. I figure at least that way you can come away with a strong portfolio piece, even if they fire your butt. If that fails I usually go to Plan C, which consists of, “Well, we’re getting nowhere, so tell me how you want me to do it, and I’ll come by and pick up the big fat check."

Above: Artwork by Paul Howalt. View slideshow.

That’s one thing I really enjoy about illustration over design. I do a lot of editorial illustrating. I’d say 70% of my illustration work is half or quarter page illustrations for articles or editorial pieces. They’re on such tight deadlines that I’ll do one sketch and they’ll say, “Uh, make his eyes smaller and go to final.” I enjoy that so much. They are obviously coming to me because I have a certain style and approach in what I do. They know what they’re going to get to a certain extent, but then they’re kind of governed by the need to go to press.

M: It seems paradoxical that an artist would welcome tight deadlines?

P: It works for me. If you have all the time in the world they’re going to overanalyze it to death. I’m not into that. I think the most changes I’ve ever made to an illustration sketch before going to final, I mean as far as the sketch phase, has been maybe two and a half slight alterations. Design projects can go around and around and might drag the project out to more than a year. A logo job could stretch to six months where you originally only budgeted for one.

M: Do you do your illustration and design work exclusively on computer?

P: Yeah. I would enjoy working both ways, but the computer is faster at what I want to accomplish. If the project calls for a style that’s more “grungy” and traditionally comped up, then I would gladly go back into that mode. I’ve done a lot of it. I did a lot of work in the late 90s for Urban Outfitters that way, back in the days when they were doing an oversized zine called Slant. All the work I did for that was traditional mechanical work. Though anymore, I don’t see how traditional illustrators who work in paint, pastels, scratchboard, et cetera can do it. I know the speed to which I need to make changes to maintain my viability as an illustrator, to make deadlines and so forth. If you came to a traditional illustrator and said, “No, I want his face to be turned the other way”, they’d have to go back, crack open their paints, and try to go over it carefully. That’s tough stuff. I honestly don’t know how they do it. It’s a mystery to me.

M: Who has been your favorite client?

P: Any client who doesn’t come back with a list of fifty-two changes and who pays on time [laugh]. The client I’ve had the most fun working with is Urban Outfitters. They’re very visually oriented. They welcome new approaches to their image. They do steer brand image, but they are very open to new interpretations of what that means. They understand the value of visual experience. There are a lot of people you have to present to who are just number crunchers. They work on the complete opposite side of the brain, and unfortunately they only care about how that thing you’re presenting to them will translate into dollars. And that’s fine, but they don’t really grasp the value of a visual experience. They can’t grasp the value of a consumer being blown away by a masterpiece of communicative design or illustration, or how that can translate into to brand sales down the road. Urban Outfitters not only understood that, they embraced it, and they pushed it. Stuff that didn’t always make immediate sense went over effortlessly if it blew their hair back visually.

M: How do you get the word out about your design services?

P: I use direct mail and put my work in the bigger source books. I’m embarrassed to say that I spam prospective clients, but I always try to make it humorous and enjoyable so people aren’t completely put off by it if they’re not really into my stuff. Yeah, I’m a little shameless when it comes to that [laugh].

M: How about chasing awards as a way of keeping your name out there?

P: I think it’s important, and I think it’s essential to pick and choose which ones you’re going to be a part of. It involves a lot of time and expense though.

M: What’s your most satisfying achievement on that front?

P: Placing 101 logos of the 202 I submitted in the first “Logo Lounge” book from Rockport. I was kind of blown away when they sent me the email telling me how many I had placed. I thought it was a typo [laugh]. The book was on Amazon’s best seller list for an incredibly long time and is in its zillionth printing now.

M: You’ve been in Communication Arts several times have you not?

P: Yes, but for my design. Not my illustrations.

M: Is that a goal of yours?

P: Yes, but I really don’t see it happening. I mean, the last two Illustration Annuals showed very little digital work and it seems hopeless to anyone who doesn’t wield a brush. I have great respect for anyone who works traditionally, but a conceptual piece is a conceptual piece, you know, something that communicates. Even the digital images that landed in the last annual looked painterly. I’m thinking Kirsten Ulve, Von Glitschka, Rian Hughes, Chip Wass, Saiman Chow, Chris Parks and Richard Zielenkiewicz must not have entered [laugh].

M: I’ll finish where we started—in the Heartland. What do you make of the fabled Midwest work ethic?

P: I’m convinced that shoveling snow on a regular basis will do more for a person’s character than any other activity. Just look at designers in big snow cities like Minneapolis, Chicago, and New York – they’re incredibly refined and prolific!

M: Because they shovel snow?

P: That or it’s too cold to go outside, so they stay in get more work done.

M: By that logic it’s amazing you get anything done in a city with 330 days of sun a year.

P: Yeah, I guess it’s a good thing I love what I do and have a very challenging mortgage [laugh].

© 2004 Mike Buchheit

Mike Buchheit is a writer, photographer, conservationist, and avid outdoorsman living in Grand Canyon National Park. His freelance articles and Southwest images highlight the transformative quality of wild places, and the aesthetic beauty and social importance of the arts. When not directing one of the country's leading outdoor education programs, Mike enjoys discovering what makes some of the design world's most creative minds tick.

You can view and purchase Mike Buchheit's Grand Canyon photography at: www.GrandCanyonPrints.com