Famed designer Stefan Sagmeister shares 35 years’ worth of his never&before&seen sketchbooks

Stefan Sagmeister is one of the most famous designers in the world, known for projects ranging from album covers for the Rolling Stones and David Byrne to branding for Levis and BMW to his experimental documentary on happiness. With an emphasis on an artist’s hand, Sagmeister cut through a century of strict geometries to define the visual style of the ’90s in ever-evolving work continuing today. But before any of these ideas was realized, first, it was sketched. As part of a recent retrospective at SVA, running through October 12, Sagmeister reprinted about 35 years of his sketchbooks tracing back to his time as a college student, which contain the musings that brought him to the Lou Reed and Aerosmith covers and to the many moments for which he’d use his own body as a canvas. Generously shared with Fast Company Design, it’s a delight to explore Sagmeister’s books—full of references that are sometimes iconic and sometimes lost to the churn of brands and search engines. Such is the result of work never intended to be seen by the public, even for an auteur known for putting everything of himself out there.   On his first day of sabbatical in Madrid, Sagmeister connected with me to answer every question I have ever had about his sketchbooks and the work of drawing in the creative process. First off, I can’t believe you’re taking this call on your sabbatical. I’m not the [kind of] person who could sit around on a beach drinking and reading. I can read an hour a day or so. So it’s a working sabbatical, but I work on stuff I normally wouldn’t work on. On my days here, I created a list of things I’m interested in . . . then I divided it into five hours a week if important, or one hour a week if not. It’s like in grade school. I do a little sketching, and after 2 to 3 months, I have so much going I don’t have to plan anymore. [Image: courtesy Stefan Sagmeister] There are so many recurring motifs in your books. So let’s go through a few. You start most sketchbooks with a quote. Generally a newspaper clipping, actually. Why? Does this center your thoughts? Of course, these were never meant to be shown. I basically made a sketch in my latest sketchbook today, but I’m not self-conscious about it, meaning this is completely for me.  If there’s a newspaper article in it, it’s something I found hilarious, ridiculous, or fantastic. It’s not really a quote that has an importance in my life. I remember one excerpt you have where a writer suggests throwing out all your annoying CD jewel cases. Which begins a book after you’ve probably drawn 1,000 different layouts for albums you were working on. Interesting! (laughs) [Image: courtesy Stefan Sagmeister] You have this recurring motif where you place speech bubbles over dry stock photography. Making little stories. We did it for a book for David Byrne, and he just gave me some sort of corporate text. And it’s fantastic to work with David because he’s sort of the ideal collaborator. He gives the direction but then leaves a lot of room for interpretation. If I remember correctly, in this case, he gave me some sort of corporate business-gobbledygook text, and we made seven or 10 spreads out of it using stock photography. [Image: courtesy Stefan Sagmeister] There are other themes to your work that show up in sketches. Dismemberment and sliced appendages is a big one. What drew you to that? I haven’t used it in many many years, but I think for a long time, I believed it was a strong image. Like, a sliced poodle is pretty on one side and quite cuddly, and when you sliced it, it’s the opposite. So you have this graphic contrast in a single image. And I think in graphics—in general, the profession—you’re always looking for contrasts. In many ways, the work I’m doing now, where I insert some sort of minimal shape (that’s ultimately a data visualization) into 19th century figurative art, also works in that same direction of being very contrasty. In general, it’s using contrast as means of visual interest—which is ultimately my bread and butter. [Image: courtesy Stefan Sagmeister] Visual contrast or topical contrast?  Both. Contrast is a technique to create visual interest.  [Image: courtesy Stefan Sagmeister] How did you use these books? Because while I know you say they weren’t meant to be seen, they do feel curated.  Yes. You are totally right. There’s a whole other class of sketchbooks that’s smaller and much less orderly and have a lot of crap in there. Basically, what you’re seeing here starts when I was at Pratt Institute, which would have been 1986 or ’87. So you’re probably seeing 35 years of sketchbooks.  What you’re looking at here [are] mildly curated sketches. I found that sometimes the good stuff was beneficial for me to save because I could look back or it might trigger something else. That’s probably why they appear relatively orderly.  I might have done a scrappy little sketch in a small s