A Studio Visit with Earl Newman
Earl Newman has been an artist for the better part of a century. After spending a couple unfulfilling years as an art teacher on the east coast, he and his family packed up for California in the 1960s where his career as a freelancer ultimately took shape. While sketching inside Shelly Manne’s famed jazz club in Los Angeles, a woman approached Earl about a poster gig. She explained that she was in charge of PR for the Monterey Jazz Festival and by the end of the day, they made a deal that would last fifty years—Earl was to design, screen print and sell the festival posters.
After spending the 60s right near the beach in Venice, Earl and his family moved up the coast to a small town outside of Corvallis, Oregon. He has now called the small community of Summit home since 1972. On the property sits a few buildings: the house, the studio, a carport and a barn. Much to my delight, the preferred method of transportation between them is a golf cart, typically helmed by Earl.
The drive from Seattle to Summit is about five hours, with four and a half of those spent on a fairly uneventful stretch of I-5. But the last half hour serendipitously loses cellular service, winding through farmland and lush greenery with a quiet sense of calm coming through the open car windows. A brief, friendly phone call with Earl the week before had let me know where to turn, but the hand-painted rainbow mailbox with “Newman” on the front served as a helpful reminder.
As both a designer and collector of posters, I tend to justify adding vintage pieces to my walls and flat file under the guise of reference and inspiration. Both are valid reasons, but I also just love to see pieces of design history in front of my face, where I can look closely at color separations, line work and just how an artist chose to represent an idea. I don’t enjoy Pinterest boards or search terms that often result in work so far removed from the original source that one can’t help but think of the 90s comedy Multiplicity (see: copies of copies of copies). But Earl Newman himself is a true original. He is a reminder of how design has been throughout most of history and I too prefer his methods. He may look through books, back at his own work, or just go straight to the source. When tasked with creating posters for the Oregon Coast Aquarium, he didn’t look online for reference photos, he drove to Newport and pulled out his chair and sketchbook.
From the time I discovered his 1963 Monterey Jazz Festival poster, which is now framed at home, I’ve kept my eyes peeled for more of his work—I’ve since found out just how prolific his decades have been. His work spans categories from modernist to protest to beatnik to hippie art, but ultimately he creates work for what he believes in. I’ve seen pieces for musicians, aquariums, festivals, zoos, cafes and community fairs, to name just a few. Whether it was a successful jazz festival or a volunteer fire station down the road, Earl could help. As his own client, he has made countless art prints promoting peace, love and community and he has done so with a tireless work ethic.
At 96, Earl Newman has more drive and follow-through than most 26-year-olds and does so with great kindness. While some of his pieces are now so highly sought after that they fetch close to $1000, you can still find Earl at his own booth at the Summit Summer Festival, with small hand-silkscreened prints for right around twenty bucks. His custom print setup at his studio has been adapted over the years, starting out as a fully manual table, using a long squeegee by hand but now the table uses adjustable weights to assist in the process—along with help from friends Larry and Rachel, both of whom live in Summit. While I was visiting, Larry was operating the table, Rachel was setting prints on the custom made drying rack and Earl was overseeing it all and making necessary adjustments for color registration. Behind the printing table, shelves upon shelves are filled with well-organized past work, flanked by flat files of more of the same. It is the kind of workworn studio most artists dream of.
Over just a couple phone calls and a sunny day in Summit, Earl and I have formed a friendship. He strikes me as someone that is warm and welcoming to all, but as I profusely thanked him for the day and the joy it brought, the feeling seemed genuinely mutual as we hugged goodbye and he said the same, letting me know how happy this new beginning had made him—a feeling we both reiterated the next day on the phone.
-Zack