At some point during the late 1990s I saw Modern Dog’s poster work for the first time, and it then became a consistent recurrence to see it again and again in design annuals, year after year. What impressed me the most wasn’t the actual work but the indomitable breadth of styles and approaches that they were able to work in. Nothing looked the same twice, and everything had a sensation of being scraped at the last minute from resources unbeknownst to anyone living outside Seattle or not last-named Chantry. I’ve always enjoyed their work, but I never knew why. Maybe it was “peer pressure” that I had to like it, because everyone else did. But much like the work of Art Chantry, Aesthetic Apparatus or even Peter Saville I never quite “got it” — meaning, the visual references or choices appeared arbitrary, or simply chosen for their coolness, or as an inside joke funny only to a handful of people — even if I enjoyed looking at it. Of course, that is my problem not theirs, and there is always a good reason behind everything when you have a chance to hear these designers speak or read their monographs. With the publication of Modern Dog: 20 Yearsof Poster Art — chronicling the poster work of the firm founded by Robynne Raye and Mike Strassburger in 1987 — I’m relieved to know that, in fact, some of these assumptions on my part are true, but also that there is a story to be told behind almost every poster (and there are 226 of them in the book) and that each story illuminates a different aspect of what it takes to be a graphic designer.

Divided in five sections — Theatre, Events, Social Issues, Self-promo, and Music, each set up with a hilarious intro (e.g., “Music: When we create music posters, we always familiarize ourselves with the bands we’re promoting. We listen to their music, look at their pictures, read bios and interviews, as well as check out their Web sites. Then, when it’s time to get busy, we crank up the Motörhead and design.”) — 20 Years showcases beautifully reproduced posters that (most) are accompanied by brief notes describing why things were done a certain way, or the hurdles that were experienced, or sharing stories related to the work… And while this could become painfully boring after, say, 27 posters, the tone of the writing is funny, honest, irreverent, deadpan, and engaging. Something that I found slightly annoying at the beginning but then came around to appreciate, was that each blurb is written from a different point of view: Sometimes it will be Robynne saying “Mike did this as…”, or Mike riffing on Robynne’s work, or it will then change to a collaborative “We did this…”, and sometimes it reads as a detached third-person critic. This gives the book a nice pacing and it’s also an interesting reflection of the dynamic that the duo shares in real-life, talking about each other, interrupting each other, and talking earnestly about their work.

Most, if not all, of the posters can be seen on Modern Dog’s web site so if you wanted to save $27.50 you could just browse their work there, but with 20 Years — aside from getting pictures bigger than an inch on screen — Modern Dog has taken advantage of having this monograph published to showcase sketches, photographs of the group as well as a few extended heartwarming (and heartbreaking) stories behind some of the posters. All this while retaining a wicked sense of humor across 160 pages: The cover states “Not canine-related,” the end papers show one-color illustrations of “Dogs we know” in the beginning and “Dogs we don’t know” in the end, there is a gratuitous picture of a deer in a meadow (p. 94), and the back cover is adorned by an endorsement from Dr. Figus Upshaw, an international book authority that proclaims the book to be of interest to anyone “[…] interested in posters or flyers. Or even anyone that uses paper. Including toilet paper.” Dr. Upshaw even has an “Interweb Home.” It’s very rewarding that this book is an extension of the personalities of Robynne and Mike, and does not rest solely on the work to carry the responsibility of making it an enjoyable monograph.

20 Years comes with a foreword by Steve Heller, and two interviews of Modern Dog by James Victore and Rick Valicenti. The introduction is exactly what you would expect from Steve (incisive, concise and informative); James’ interview is far from engaging and the questions, that feel hastily written, verge on beauty pageantry interrogation (e.g., “What do you want to be remembered for?”); while, on the other hand, Rick’s interview is the one that extracts most of the insights from the authors, through a critical, no bullshit, three-way conversation that serves as the most serious assessment of this body of work, which is typically just judged by how cool it looks — providing a satisfying read to the extensive visual content of the book.

The most impressive aspect of 20 Years, for me, is that it reaffirms what I have always admired most about Modern Dog: Their unabashed versatility and lack of concern for establishing a recognizable style that they could milk. Instead, they explore, push, try, fail, and do things their own dogged way. And, best of all, now I “get it.”

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