Reykjavík Grapevine - 09.03.2012, Side 16

Why Do We Need karlssonwilker?
The first years of Karlssonwilker’s oper-
ation are well known to graphic design
enthusiasts, documented in a popular
2003 book entitled ‘Tellmewhy—The
First 24 Months Of A New York Design
Company.’ It tells the warts ‘n’ all story
of their first two years in operation,
detailing all the small victories along
with major setbacks, disappointments,
vanishing clients and failed projects.
Lauded for its honesty in depicting
the sometimes-grim reality of starting
a new business—rather than being a
sugar-coated success story devised to
earn them respect and clients—it is an
essential read for anyone considering
starting their own business in the field
of graphic design.
“That book quickly took on a life of
its own, and I am sure it contributed to
our reputation quite a bit,” Hjalti tells
me over lunch. “In fact, it’s still doing
it. While I pay little attention to what
people are saying about us, aside from
acknowledging that being talked about
can be good for business, our per-
ceived image seems shaped by those
early years as depicted in ‘Tellmewhy.’
I recently went to Calgary, Canada, to
judge a competition and give a lecture,
and while in conversation with this
graphic design graduate I learnt that
it was mandatory reading in his class,
that this was actually the case in many
design courses in Canada. It was kind
of startling [laughs], I actually thought
he was joking around until this was
confirmed by others present.”
Hjalti and I are sitting at Karlsson-
wilker’s favourite restaurant, Village
Yogurt on Sixth Avenue, where the two
enjoy lunch every day. “During our first
years in business we sustained mostly
on Dunkin Donuts [there is a franchise
below their office], but that quickly
grew tired, not to mention unhealthy.
So we embraced this place and come
here almost every day,” he explains
while picking at his order of steamed
chicken and brown rice. Jan is back
at the office, working on a deadline
along with their two employees. “We
run a small office. It’s the best way for
us to operate, we’ve experimented with
keeping a larger staff, but it doesn’t
suit our purposes. We’ll usually host an
intern in addition to the two employ-
ees, but that’s as populated as we want
to get. Five people is plenty for what we
do.”
LUCKY STRIKE
Sporting long blonde locks and a Jesus
beard, Hjalti is healthy looking, humble
and in a chipper mood. He tells me how
he came to be a graphic designer, and
how he came to live and work in New
York. The tale is rife with coincidence.
“After barely graduating from MR col-
lege at age twenty I found myself really
lost, with no idea what I wanted to do.
I started working for a wholesaler’s,
distributing candy to stores and kiosks
while attending courses in prepara-
tory studies at what’s now known as
The Icelandic Academy of The Arts. I
had signed up inspired by my mother,
who was always painting pictures, and
in turn found myself drawn to the field
of graphic design. After completing
a year, my application to the school’s
graphic design department was re-
jected, so I contacted Parsons School
of Design in New York on the advice
of [prominent Reykjavík designer] Atli
Hilmarsson, who had attended.”
Much to his surprise, Hjalti’s appli-
cation was accepted. In fact this was
problematic for young Hjalti, as he
couldn’t really afford tuition and the
move to New York, despite his parents’
willingness to support the endeavour.
This is when good fortune struck:
“A co-worker and I were taking or-
ders in some hole in the wall sjoppa
in Breiðholt, noting down how much
Prince Polo they needed, stuff like that.
My co-worker was behind the regis-
ter, and he picked up a stack of these
scratch lottery cards and suggested
we play. They had just been introduced
to the market and were quite novel at
the time, it being 1989 and all. I had no
time for such nonsense and told him to
hurry up, but he threw me one, urging
me to scratch. I brought the card up
to my nose and smelled it before ut-
tering, ‘this one is no good’, and asking
for another. That one didn’t smell right
either, so I got yet another one. Before I
scratched it, I told my partner: ‘if I win,
I’ll give you a third of the prize’. After
scratching and perusing the numbers I
handed it to him wordlessly, my mouth
agape...
We had won a lot of money; what
would amount to around $15.000 today.
We drove to the lottery’s offices and
they gave us a cheque for the amount.
We split it according to our plan, even
though my co-worker tried to refuse
his share. And thus I could afford to at-
tend Parsons, Funny how that worked
out...”
Despite having lived in New York
ever since, Hjalti still feels like a visi-
tor. “In many ways it still feels like I just
arrived. One of the reasons I wanted to
go to Parsons was that I had this de-
sire to be in New York. It wasn’t like I
was sick of Iceland or anything, in fact
I loved it and I fully planned on mov-
ing back home after finishing my three
years in design school. I’m still here,
though, twenty-three years later. I have
a hard time fathoming that I’ve spent
half my life here, and I certainly don’t
feel like an American. Which is maybe
funny considering I’ve never lived in
Iceland as an adult. I was still living
with my parents when I left for New
York.”
THE KING OF THE DESIGN
WORLD
After graduating from Parsons, Hjalti
landed a full time job with fabled de-
sign guru Stefan Sagmeister where
he—Sagmeister’s only employee—
found himself working on a lot of high
profile stuff, including album covers for
artists like The Rolling Stones and Lou
Reed. “And that’s where I met Jan,” he
says.
In that very instance, Jan himself
enters the Village Yogurt and takes a
seat next to his partner of twelve years.
Jan orders food and we discuss his
life before New York, Hjalti and karls-
sonwilker. After enjoying considerable
success with a surfing apparel com-
pany that he’d founded in his native
Germany, Sharksucker, he decided to
study architecture. “I had envisioned
architecture to be sort of The King Of
The Design World. In the first half of
the 20th century there were all these
design universalists, like Buckminster
Fuller, that were essentially architects
but worked in every field: product de-
sign, graphic design, filmmaking and
even art. For me they encompassed
this bigger idea of what design could
be, and this is what I aspired to.”
“I quickly learnt that architecture
wasn’t being taught like that anymore,
and I frankly didn’t have the patience
to wait until I was forty years old to
see my first garage constructed. So
after a year of architecture I switched
to graphic design, which seemed like
a more immediate way of getting my
point across.”
I ask what it was that he needed to
get across so quickly. “A lot of it had
to do with vanity, I suppose,” he says.
“With Sharksucker, I had found it exhil-
arating to see my own creations on the
street. To create something beautiful
or interesting that other people would
look at and be affected by.”
Jan’s studies would eventually lead
him to an internship at Sagmeister’s
New York studio. He and Hjalti grew
friendly, and when they learnt that
their mentor was planning a yearlong
sabbatical they came up with the idea
of doing something on their own. “We
had this very naïve and sort of childlike
idea that since the big boss was clos-
ing we should just start our own thing,
seeing that the break would leave
Hjalti out of work and I was a student
with nothing planned.”
“We didn’t really know one another
that well; frankly we had no idea what
we were getting into. It’s somehow
worked out for twelve years, though,
and we’re starting to know one another
pretty well. Hjalti often says that I am
his best friend, even.”
HAND TO MOUTH
Upon learning the pair’s plans, Sag-
meister gracefully donated them one of
his office computers and sent a client
their way. Design firm karlssonwilker
started slowly taking form, the details
of which are gloriously recounted in
the aforementioned ‘Tellmewhy.’ Rec-
ommended reading for anyone who
takes the slightest interest in design,
the book is out of print by now but
widely available at libraries and on-
line.
At times it reads like a drama, the
pair struggling with every aspect of
getting established and finding count-
less obstacles in their way. One gets
the sense that they started the firm
with a sort of haphazardly optimistic
‘build it and they will come’ attitude,
doing very little to attract business or
reach clients. They struggle with work
permits, housing, finances, losing cli-
ents, fumbled attempts at gaining new
ones. But it is equally apparent that
through it all they strive to be honest
and hardworking, and that they take
immense joy from every last bit of it.
And this is likely what has seen them
prevail and conquer to this day.
“Twelve years after taking those
first steps towards independence, we
find not a lot has changed,” Hjalti says.
“We still work out of the same office.
And we are still really bad at seeking
out projects. I am naturally shy and
so is Jan, so we don’t really cold-call
clients or actively seek them out. We
tried it and we’re just no good at it. We
just want to sit here and have people
call us, although to be fair I should note
that Nicole [Jacek, karlssonwilker’s
Creative Director and one of two em-
ployees] does work hard at pulling in
business, and is quite adept at the cold
calls.”
They still work mostly hand to
mouth, as Hjalti remarks. “A project
will come our way and we will work on
it for two months or so, then hopefully
we’ll have another one. This method
of running a business can of course
be stressful; we have few retainers on
steady projects. This means we have to
depend on whatever work comes in—if
none does, we don’t get paid. And now
we have families to take care of, apart-
ments to pay for...”
New York City design
firm karlssonwilker is the
brainchild of Messrs Jan
Wilker and Hjalti Karlsson,
one of whom happens
to be born and raised in
Reykjavík (no points for
guessing which one). They
have made quite a name
for themselves, working
for some rather big clients.
puma, The New York Times,
Mini, vitra, MTv, Warner
Brothers and Universal
music are among the parties
they have sold their time
and talent to since opening
for business in 2000.
You can now add
Reykjavík’s annual
DesignMarch to that list,
as the pair was drafted to
the prestigious position of
designing the visual identity
for the 2012 edition.
We paid their Manhattan
office a visit last month in
an attempt to find out who
these people are, what they
are doing and why we need
them.
by Haukur S. Magnússon