![]() ![]() I still recall the thrill when I finally found a copy of “Tokyo Salamander,” his exquisite collaboration with Japanese artist Shinro Ohtake (who also contributed sleeve art to numerous Throwing Muses releases). I’ve spent much of my adult life collecting, poring over and teasing out meaning in Vaughan’s work. It was so lovely to catch up, however briefly. While he alluded to some ongoing health issues, he was in fine form at the post-symposium dinner, which took place in Harvard Square. It was only in retrospect that his in-plain-sight redaction from the proceedings seemed unsettling. Vaughan declined to speak publicly that evening, although he graciously signed books and posed for photos. (More from 3 of those designers, Timothy O’Donnell, Clif Stoltze and Kristina Lamour Sansone, below.) The exhibit was a wonderful overview, and the programming included an evening of tributes from his design peers. The last time I saw Vaughan was in 2017, at Lesley University’s “Walking Backwards” exhibition of work from Vaughan’s archive. Vaughan’s mark-up for the Pixies’ Bossanova. Think of the cover of Ultra Vivid Scene’s debut, where the silver swathes of packing tape obscuring the type were impasto’ed heavily enough to mimic actual packing tape.) Although the gauzy quality of Vaughan’s early work for the Cocteau Twins has almost come to define the “4AD look,” his actual body of work encompassed a wide range of styles, moods, and media. (I repeat: His work was never cheap, in both senses of the word. Now, he wasn’t above going for the occasional lowbrow visual pun (the Breeders’ “Cannonball” single almost ended up with a back cover featuring a lone testicle “pushed through a piece of board to ensure its loneliness,” read Vaughan’s design brief), but his finished work always tempered that punk sense of boundary-testing with a gracefulness borne of years of honing his craft. But Vaughan, for all his multitudes as a designer, was never cheap, and he was never, ever arch. For a while in the ‘90s, there was a veritable avalanche of indie-hopeful LPs featuring ambitiously cropped sepia photographs and a few carefully-chosen outré fonts. Vaughan’s work for 4AD, in particular, was widely imitated. Vaughan Oliver retrospective exhibit at Lesley University, Sept-Oct, 2017 (To this day, I still haven’t deciphered what he scrawled in my copy of the 1990 French catalogue of his work.) To say that I was intimidated by him was an understatement, but his jovial directness was disarming and put me at ease. I first met Vaughan on my inaugural trip to London in 1993, where I was attending 4AD’s lavish 13 Year Itch celebration - an anniversary blowout complete with music, an exhibition of artwork, and video screenings at the ICA. Although the gauzy quality of his early work for the Cocteau Twins - much of it done in collaboration with his first design partner, Nigel Grierson, as 23 Envelope - has almost come to define the “4AD look,” his actual body of work encompassed a wide range of styles, moods, and media. To me, Vaughan Oliver’s work consistently acted as the grit in the oyster - work that enervated, puzzled, inspired and awed. As the news sank in, I still couldn’t believe it - intense, profane, puckish Vaughan, one of if not THE iconic designer of the 1990s (sorry, Carson, it ain’t you) - was gone far too soon. ![]() I had a moment of intense disbelief, followed by the ludicrous hope that it was a sick joke of some kind. ![]() Graphic design legend Vaughan Oliver (4AD/v23) passed away on Decemat the age of 62.Įarly on Sunday, December 29, Adrian Shaughnessy of Unit Editions announced, “My friend and design hero Vaughan Oliver died peacefully today, with his partner Lee by his side. ![]()
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