Stacey Brook is a Writer, Blogger, Author

The world of rock concert poster art has its own definitive language, silent and spoken, written and unwritten, overt and implied. Like with many other microcultures, knowing this community’s unusual codes, insider terminology and culturally specific social etiquette is the difference between surface appreciation and full understanding. The masters of poster art twist pop culture imagery, repurpose age-old Americana icons and ink out slick illustrations in the name of ephemeral, music-related events. Using techniques and equipment that in the age of computers is all-but antiquated, they construct limited edition, handmade artifacts that not only mark a single day in history, but are reflective of the cultural surroundings at large. The community that produces these vibrant runs of ink on paper is insular and eccentric, full of brilliant, quirky, often introverted personalities, whose bombastic mode of expression is balanced by the under-the-radar status of their craft.

After years of existing away from the scrutiny and examination of outsiders, not one, but two filmmakers crafted documentaries about this underground coalition of ink on paper; Eileen Yaghoobian, with her punk-rock pastiche, Died Young, Stayed Pretty, and Merle Becker with her historical examination of the artform, American Artifact. Each filmmaker’s choice of location, interview subjects, tone and editing are deliberate attempts to impart this new language of poster art to an audience that hasn’t been exposed—for a lifetime, a decade, or even the few years it took to weave together each of these films—to the nuances and iconography of this cloistered culture. Both directors furnish the viewer with tools to process this foreign dialect, and the questions their films answer directly parallel the inquiries innate to the understanding and acquisition of a second language. What is the terminology people use here? How is it applied? What are the cultural references necessary to establish real connections with the material? What words and concepts don’t translate to the language I already know?

In a total immersion method of foreign language instruction, a student receives all of his/her instruction in the target language, without explanation or bridges to a first, native language for guidance. In order to learn French, for example, one would be placed in an environment in which everything heard and spoken was only in French.

This is the same principle by which Died Young, Stayed Pretty exposes the viewer to the world of underground poster art. Yaghoobian’s gritty homage plunges its audience into the solitary, culture of imagery/imagery of culture world inhabited by modern poster artists. The film is shot, produced, directed and edited by the first-time filmmaker from Vancouver, who discovered rock posters through the modern archival website and forum, Gigposters.com. A photographer with her MFA, Yaghoobian found herself impacted by the artwork on a visceral level, and approached the filmmaking process with a keen eye and a fine-artists’ appreciation for the mechanics of the movement. She documents how posters of the punk rock era are reflected in the posters of today, focusing her attention more on the current expression of the culture and its visual expression than its historical roots.

“It’s about the dialogue that happens in the posters and the community that exists,” she says.

As far as location and process, Yaghoobian had a distinct vision going in. She didn’t want to shoot artists, as she says, “pimping their artwork.” She wanted to capture them in their natural environs. Her filming process involved staying with her subjects for weeks, sleeping on couches and always keeping the camera rolling. She captures the routines that reveal a person’s character, catching her artists in off-guard moments that show the true nature/color of their personalities. Interview subjects are chosen for their conversational fluency and hometown environmental intrigue, not their individual impact on the scene.

Rob Jones, in Died Young, Stayed Pretty

Yaghoobian encourages extended musing from her subjects. She wrenches politically incorrect admissions from them. Most of the men (there is only one female poster maker in the whole film—a pretty accurate representation on gender breakdown in the field) on the scene are huge culture, science and history geeks, and Yaghoobian lets them ramble, exposing their roots. Like Rob Jones, expert illustrator of the perverse, who recounts the paranoid legend of the death of Elvis’ secret twin on-screen for a full five minutes. The story he tells has nothing to do with posters, really. It doesn’t even have a lot to do with rock music. But it does give the audience majestic insight into the workings of a mind that spews out hilarious, warped images of famous figures, like Mick Jagger wielding an eel stemming from his crotch; or Teddy Roosevelt, fang-bearing and vampiric; or a homoerotic, gun-slinging Elvis (of course), pinching his own nipple.

It is these deliberate tangential indulgences of character through conversation that create the immersive experience. In a movie about a microculture, Yaghoobian understands that to know a foreign place, you must be allowed to converse with its people about the things they love.

Yaghoobian’s portrait of the modern community is further fleshed out by the frenetic paces of her cuts from poster imagery to interview tidbits from artists who are identified only for flashes of a second. She arranges her interviews in a non-linear fashion overlapping patches of related musings, so they feel almost wheatpasted together. Yaghoobian’s film is intentionally plotless and dizzying.

“Punk is anti-narrative,” she says. “Of course I’m going to a make a film that’s anti-narrative, because I’m going to serve the form.

Yaghoobian also illuminates subjects that are actually of issue if you participate in the community. She juxtaposes footage of designers and illustrators expressing their fervent opinions on design—contradicting each other in ways that mimic the activity on poster message boards and in chat rooms. One minute you see a design-centric artist is claiming he’d be bored to pieces illustrating posters, and the next minute the screen flashes to an illustrator complaining about the lack of imagination in recycling found imagery. The values and perspectives of artists are both represented and respected, but never fully explained. The audience is left with the feeling that it is impossible to label an opinion in this universe as right or wrong, but that all is permissible when expressing opinions about music or pop culture or aesthetics or politics through your artwork. As the frantic conversational wave crashes down, the lesson is imparted. Creativity is god. Art is the only truth.

Died Young, Stayed Pretty requires fortitude; and likely you have to be a native speaker to understand what Yaghoobain is saying. Even with thousands of hours of trolling Gigposters.com under my belt and a flat file of collected screenprints under my bed I understood Died Young, Stayed Pretty better after my second viewing.

But as Yaghoobian says, “It’s punk rock. It’s messy.” That first viewing still awoke something visceral within me—something tied to the excitement of secrecy and rebellion. The film forces you to commit or perhaps more accurately, submit to powerful sensory provocation. Like a non-Spanish speaker feeling inspired enough by the Cathedral of Seville to utter her first “muy gracias,” one simply has to let the immersion work its wonder.

Yaghoobian says, “When you’re making a movie about community, the individual dissipates.” And in the case of Died Young, Stayed Pretty, this principle includes the audience/viewer as an absorbed individual, too.

Immersion is a proven effective method of language learning, but it certainly isn’t the only way to impart a language unknown. The Language As Subject (LAS) system of language learning, for example, is a traditional way of teaching language in which it is treated as the object of instruction. In LAS, the teacher is responsible for explanation, and deciding what will be learned and how to exchange that knowledge. In her film American Artifact, Merle Becker aims to translate the language of the poster underground into relatable terms for her audience, ordering an examination of poster art from its rock and roll and psychedelic roots through the present. Becker introduces the audience to the scene’s key players through the ages. She uses clear points of organization, the innate visual appeal of the scene’s artwork, and a literal approach to context and setting to engage and anchor the viewers. The film even kicks off with Becker as the narrator, a device used intermittently throughout the film, making Becker, quite literally, our guide.

“I definitely wanted people to walk away from the film feeling like they learned something, and feeling like it was an enlightening hour and a half,” she says.

Becker serves up her content in linear, easily digestible chunks, and American Artifact has a clear beginning, middle and end. The film kicks off with a review of posters of the 50’s and 60’s, taking us on a quick tour the art’s birth in boxing poster form. We move on to the 60’s where the major signposts are hit. Bill Graham at The Fillmore? Check. Stanley Mouse, whose Grateful Dead posters eventually spawned the most recognizable band logo on the planet? Check. It is clear from the outset, that this is intended to be a historical journey through the art form.

Becker’s artistic choices are a reflection of the intended audience. Where Yaghoobian samples current artists for their commitment to obscurity, Becker focuses heavily on the “Big Five” (Wes Wilson, Rick Griffin, Victor Moscoso, Stanley Mouse, and Alton Kelley), and then moves on to sample an array of keystone artists from the 60’s and beyond. She uses two books—1949’s The Art of Rock, and 2003’s updated, The Art of Modern Rock—two 25-pound tomes—as her bibles, selecting the most pivotal and popular figures for probing and extolling. She takes us through time, and the country, to record what she—and some others in the film—seems to believe is a vanishing industry.

Becker hails from the world of mass media, working for MTV in the former “corporate gig” she refers to in much of the film’s narration. More specifically, she worked for TRL, MTV’s gooey, pop sales vehicle, and her experience in making trends approachable for the masses clearly informs her storytelling approach.

She squeezes more recognizable personalities into her film, executing their identification with clear labeling, giving prime screen time to people like Frank Kozik, known by many to be the godfather of modern poster art. Becker lets Kozik tell his story, the tale of how screenprinting was revived; of how in a time when the black and white flier was the default, he strived to make prints so large and so complex they would make people think, “How can that exist?”

These are the pillars of the community. The figures worthy of flashcards. One by one, Becker isolates these personas that have defined the scene over time, asking you to commit them to memory.

Art Chantry, in Died Young, Stayed Pretty

Like Art Chantry, often known as the design yin to Kozik’s illustrative yang, who has the most compelling lines in the film. (Chantry is a major voice in DYSP as well.) Proving his worth as modern day poster art’s Confucius, he unintentionally synthesizes the intent of the entire film, while telling the story of his own work saying, “If you document, you create history.”

While synthesizing the chain of events that brought poster art to its modern state, Becker makes use of archival footage (an old Bill Graham interview, for example), and places her new interview subjects in environments that are directly connected to their occupations, achievements and/or topic of conversation. Music writers talk in front of their libraries. Artists are interviewed in their studios. Her context is literal. The soundtrack is comprised of bands whose music has been represented in posters for decades. She provides her audience with the building blocks of understanding by presenting exactly what she wants you to absorb.

Becker is also unafraid to explore the more commercial side of the poster world, a reality that Died Young, Stayed Pretty for the most part, leaves untouched. In the years since the golden age of poster art, the functionality of a five-color screenprinted poster has changed. For bands that are no longer making money off record sales, limited edition screenprints are expensive to produce, and not especially effective as a means of promotion now that shows are advertised on the internet.

As Chantry brings up, maybe now more than ever, posters are artifacts. It’s important to Becker to give context for how poster art fits in the modern world. She knows in an audience of music lovers, people want to know where and how posters are used. She anticipates that in a crowd of rent and mortgage payers, people will be wondering, “How do these folks make a living?” Her inclination towards didacticism serves the audience’s curiosities regarding the practicality of a seemingly impractical artistic existence. The film is information-stuffed, thoughtfully organized, and imbued with the vibrant spirit of the scene it magnifies.

After viewing American Artifact, you know the historical figures of importance. The generals of war. You have sampled the souvenirs and you can list the key facts. You could pass a test on the vocabulary and phrases. In Died Young, Stayed Pretty, you acquire your native accent. You may not have fully understood the dialogue, but you’re left with the feeling of having spent months in a far away place. You don’t remember the name of the wine you drank while you were there, but you remember what it tasted like.

Some people want to live abroad. Others like the guided tour. How filmgoers respond to each film will ultimately depend on what kind of learners they are, and how they like to travel through worlds unknown.

Blogger Rick Juzwiak’s brain is a black hole of pop culture references. His pool of knowledge runs as long as Quentin Tarantino’s Netflix queue, as wide as the spread of autotune, and as deep as a four year-old pageant girl’s cosmetic bag. He describes his brain as “a YouTube K-Hole,” in which anything and everything can trigger the activation of a cultural tag or nostalgic playback. Like when he compares an unfortunately made-up contestant on “America’s Next Top Model” to Chester the puppet from 90s MTV show “Sifl and Olly.” Or contrasts “Up,” the loveable animated Pixar film with “Up!,” Russ Meyer’s decidedly less kid-friendly softcore romp. Or connects an utterance from Jersey Shore’s Mike “The Situation” to a line from the trailer for “Cool As Ice.” (That’s Vanilla Ice’s 1991 “musical romance.”)

“When you expose yourself to all this crap, it’s gonna hang around and manifest itself in bizarre ways,” he says.

For the last four years, this Williamsburg resident has spent a minimum of ten hours a day in front of television and computer, consuming and dissecting popular culture using the quick-wit of a Judge Judy worshipper (“I watch her every day”), the hard-boiled clarity of a music journalism major, and the originality of an acute, perverse, and achingly honest entertainment devotee. He is a distinct and refreshing voice in a sea of muddled cultural commentary.

As one of VH1’s full-time TV bloggers, Juzwiak has made a trade out of the reality show recap, a mixed media collage of screenshots, sound bytes, moving gifs, hilariously photoshopped still frames, and biting commentary that isolates all the most ridiculous moments of the network’s chaotic life-behind-glass experiments. He spends Monday through Friday reviewing clips, reading celebrity “news” (“I use that term loosely”) and interviewing the uninhibited stars of VH1 shows like “Rock of Love,” “Celebrity Rehab,” and the new “Frank the Entertainer … In a Basement Affair.” His strength lies in deftly summarizing the lunacy of the events that transpire from week to week, and in highlighting the indelible personalities of each series, be they lovable, flighty, or antagonistic. And of course, he imbues all of his coverage with the signature Juzwiakian cultural cross-pollination.

“The first episode of the first season of ‘Rock of Love’ is just ‘Beyond the Valley of the Dolls’ written in 2006,” he says. “Except they couldn’t show full nudity.”

When he’s not at VH1 headquarters in Times Square, “a place I’d never go if I didn’t have to go there every day,” Juzwiak is buckled down in his apartment off the Graham Avenue stop, with his oft-blogged about cat Winston, culling material for his personal pop culture blog, the fourfour (www.fourfour.typepad.com). The carefully cultivated mélange, named for the four-on-the-floor beats of disco and house music, was started by Juzwiak as a mode of expression for his entertainment encyclopedia of a brain, and has come to house one of the most eclectic, elevated collections of pop culture musings on the web.

Juzwiak’s obsessions are easily identifiable (pageants, house music, and horror flicks just to name a few), but anything wild, wacky or off-putting that crosses his path is game for exploration. Like the surprising pervasiveness of confederate flag-decorated merchandise on the Wildwood boardwalk. (“Wildwood is a body louse clinging to a sweaty shaft of hair in the Armpit of America that is New Jersey,” he writes in one post.) Or the nostalgia-ridden documentary “The Rocka-fire Explosion,” about a fanclub’s longtime obsession with an animatronic band. Or the dramatic declines and desperate pseudo-comebacks of R&B’s greatest divas, Whitney and Mariah.

Juzwiak also has a knack for collating and summarizing content for his audience via a variety of creative, web-friendly presentations, like his “I’m Not Here To Make Friends” montage (eventually adapted for a segment on “This American Life”), a video compilation of the endless times reality stars have verbally expressed what, since season one of “Survivor,” no one has really needed to say. He even created a video mash-up of the best moments from Celine Dion’s 2007 2-DVD set, not because he particularly likes Dion’s music, but because he simply finds her to be a compelling character. Juzwiak has admitted to being susceptible to the so-bad-it’s-good category of entertainment, seeking out honesty, and judging things on pure entertainment value versus critical expectations.

“It’s all about taste,” Juzwiak says. “I believe taste is not so much about what you like, but why you like it. And for critics, it’s about how you like it.”

Juzwiak is especially skilled in conveying this “how” via his fourfour reality show recaps, which allow him to tackle non-VH1 programs in the format he so loves. In the past, Juzwiak has covered shows from “Project Runway” to MTV’s brilliant if short-lived reality series, “The Paper,” and fans of the blog now petition him to cover new programs that may appeal to his varied sensibilities. Ultimately Juzwiak only has enough time to give a few shows the full treatment, like “America’s Next Top Model,” the recaps of which earned The fourfour its devoted audience, and Juzwiak his VH1 job; and which often take over ten hours to produce.

“Jersey Shore” is another series that was pretty much guaranteed coverage by Juzwiak, on account of the extreme personalities of the cast members (“they’re salacious and ridiculous and weird looking”), and Juzwiak’s own South Jersey origins.

“I think the most New Jersey thing you can do is choose to go to New Jersey,” Juzwiak says of the cast’s relative dearth of New Jersey natives. “To choose to align with that culture says a lot more than if you’re just born there. I think they fit in just fine.”

Rich explains that, like many of the VH1 reality shows he covers, “Jersey Shore” is a reflection of our culturally narcissistic societal tendencies.

“When I watch [reality television], it really is anthropological. It is looking at culture and understanding a way of life. This is just another group that hasn’t been examined.”

Juzwiak’s profession does have its pitfalls. What qualifies as escape for most people is always tied to work for a blogger. And with so much information and entertainment in circulation, the blogger is never off duty.

“I’m in this situation where I’m basically working day and night,” says Juzwiak. “But if something awesome happens, how the hell could I not share how it affected me? I would not turn my back on potential content. Ideas are hard to come by.”

It’s clear Juzwiak was built for this sort of thing.

“I’m extremely content in that I get to express myself to the fullest,” he says. “The only thing that holds me back is being tired. And it’s tough because it’s just a stupid blog. But it matters.”

Douglas Rushkoff, filmmaker, scholar, media wunderkind and author of Life Inc., a manifesto of changing our culture of corporate-run consumption, spoke at Etsy headquarters recently. In addition to telling the tale of how corporate culture came to be, Rushkoff debunked the myth that industrialized production is more cost-effective than local production and trade, addressed how specialization is the territory of the handcrafter (not the worker on the assembly line), and emphasized the importance of the peer-to-peer exchange.

Etsy is one of the few organizations that is changing the way people buy and sell things in our culture. We are returning the value of what is created back to the hands of the creators. (That’s you!)

During the Q&A portion of the discussion, one Etsy seller, a furniture maker, asked how the value of a handmade object can be communicated to buyers who don’t necessarily understand the care and effort that goes into making objects outside the system of mass production. How do you show people the furniture you build with your own two hands in your garage is better than an IKEA chair?

Rushkoff’s answer was that you need to show people why your product is better. He talked about the first time he introduced his mother to a CSA salad, and how she said, “The arugula — it tastes different,” to which Rushkoff replied, “Yeah, it tastes like arugula, not like something engineered to be shipped across the country and picked when it’s blue. It’s a different thing.”

Rushkoff also observed that the Internet as an interface is an issue Etsy sellers have to contend with. It is difficult to display the value of objects, especially complex creations, through a computer screen. “You have to go on reputation,” Rushkoff said.

Based on the observations and studies of Rushkoff, and the vocalized concerns of Etsy sellers, it is clear we need to push our message of value to the Etsy buyer community. Luckily, both showing buyers the value of your product and enhancing your reputation are things sellers can proactively address; on your Etsy pages, and in your overall interactions with the buying community. It all comes down to two basic principles: Displaying Your Value and Making It Personal.

Displaying Your Value
As sellers on Etsy, makers of screenprinted notecards and homespun yarn and hand-sewn pillows, you can both qualify and quantify the amount of time and energy that goes into making things by hand. But not all buyers will understand this implicitly. People have become used to finding the same products in every store, and buying things wholesale. Here are some ways in which you can proactively impart the great value of your truly specialized, handmade products to potential buyers:

1. Make a Video: You make something by hand? Show me how. There is something deadening in the process of making a sweater pumped out of a factory line. What fascinates people is the hand construction process behind the 8-layer tulle skirt of a wedding dress. Or the steps involved in taking slabs of raw wood to a polished, working cabinet. Even a simple video showing the process behind making your screenprints or dying your fabrics will increase intrigue in your products. Look at how many people tune into shows like Project Runway just to see how the garments are made. The attention paid to your craft and the unique qualities of what results will be apparent.
   Check out the Etsy Process Videos to see some examples, or these posts to help you get started making videos.
2. Bolster Your Descriptions: What makes your product stronger or last longer than other mass manufactured items? Highlight these elements in your descriptions. Break down what terms like “serging” and “varnish” mean for the layman, especially if they add to your message of quality. Don’t assume your buyers understand these terms or the value they convey. Whether you make utilitarian items, or pieces of art, or objects that function as both (as many of the items on Etsy do), talk about the intricacies of your creations and how they’re made. What techniques do you employ to make the product last? What are your materials? Why did you choose them? What makes them special? Why can’t you get this item anywhere else? Buyers want to know.
   Check these seller how-to’s about writing descriptions.
3. Post the Right Pictures: When it all comes down to it, pictures tell the most. Supply shots from all angles. If you sell fine artwork, capture the wide shot and the details. Be sure to post pictures that show scale, especially for very large or very small items. If you list imperfections or describe special textures, show them. Make sure your buyers know they can request additional images if they have questions about the item’s quality/size, etc. You want to make the shopping experience for your buyers as multi-dimensional as possible.
   Check out these seller how-to’s about photographing your items.

Making It Personal
Another thing that stuck out in the discussion with Rushkoff was the disconnect between individuals and corporations. We have no relationships with these massive companies from which we buy so many of our possessions. At Etsy we have a unique opportunity to forge relationships with the buyers one-on-one. Here are a few ways to increase your interactivity with the Etsy shopper community and beyond:

1. Maximize Social Media: Open up your social media channels to your customer circles, not just your family and friends. On Etsy, your customers are your friends. Buyers who admire the things you make are often curious about the personalities and backgrounds of the people who make them. So build up those Facebook fans and Twitter followers. Post links to these pages in your announcements and have people email you to be added to your mailing lists. Invite people to get to know you better, and in turn, get to know them. Customers on the edge of making a purchase may discover random information about you — connect to the movies you like, or a book you’ve read — and purchase from you for the first time. Buyers who feel like they’re updated on your activities regularly (even if they’re simply following your feeds) will come back to you time and time again.
   Read this post about taking the time to be personal — and not being spammy.
2. Customize Your Packages: The receipt of a package from an Etsy seller is an exciting moment for buyers. Tailor the experience to each customer. Include a handwritten note. Say something about the particular item they have bought. When you open a television from Sears you get computerized paperwork and boring manuals. I’ve never once received a Halloween-themed notecard or an envelope full of confetti, or a heart-shaped lollipop in a department store box. Getting a package from an Etsy seller should simply be more interesting then the average consumer experience.
   Check out these seller how-to’s about packaging.
3. Customer Service is Key: You are your business on Etsy. You don’t have a bureaucracy to blame when shipments don’t go out, or when emails don’t get answered. Check your messages every day. Make sure you answer buyer questions promptly and thoroughly. You manage your own reputation, so show people that their experience with an independent seller will be positive and engaging. Proactively contact buyers who asked about items that were once unavailable and have now become available again. Show shoppers that they are not numbers, they are people you have logged in your memory. Offer small, private discounts to repeat customers as a token of your appreciation. Send notes to thank people when they buy something you have made.
   Check out the Service Tips for Sellers series.

Your products aren’t the blue arugula created on an assembly line by workers paid far too little and shipped across the country to big box warehouses who take all the money and credit for your blood and sweat. You make things and sell things you put your soul into. You need to impart that message to your buyers. You need to show them — it’s a whole different thing.