John Van Hamersveld and Los Angeles Psych

This little page I reproduce here is a “meet the staff” panel from the April-May 1963 issue of Surfer magazine. It’s pretty indicative of some of the design work that was encountered inside—wack layout, dented decor, funny photos, it all looked like the art director was inventing editorial design on the spot. Considering his lack of experience in design at that point, it may have been true. But, man, what an eye! What a design mind! The art director at the time was a young fellow named John Van Hamersveld. John Van Hamersveld (b. 1941) was no contest the hippest coolest design kid in Los Angeles.

He was a surfer who ended up at Art Center College of Design in Pasadena for a time. When he graduated, he began working with his pals and ended up doing the incredibly famous Endless Summer film poster image. That alone is so classic that it’s probably one of the top 20 most famous posters of all time. But that was just his starting point.

You can see in the photo of John (upper right) that he was a hip young thing in his youth. Down on the left hand side (near the bottom) you can see a guy passed out over his drawing table. That is an old childhood surf buddy of John’s, Rick Griffin. He was the staff cartoonist at the early Surfer mag, creating the still popular character “Murphy” in its pages. Murph became the preferred mascot of surfers everywhere.

Rick Griffin was the guy who pressured John Severson (Surfer mag head honcho) to hire his buddy Van Hamer. It was one of the smartest things these guys ever did, and they all had a long history of smart moves. So much talent clustered in one place!

Eventually Rick headed north to the fledgling hippie scene in San Francisco. He almost immediately became the most influential poster artist of his generation, executing scores of rock posters for the Fillmore and Avalon and the Hell’s Angels shows. He (along with the other “big five” poster artists of the SF scene—Mouse, Wes Wilson, Moscoso, and Alton Kelley) created what we now call “psychedelic art.” The world still reels.

Van Hamersveld started doing psychedelic posters, too. However, he stayed in L.A. and began promoting the concerts, as well as designing the posters, through his own business: Pinnacle Productions. John Van Hamersveld became the prime practitioner of psychedelia in Los Angeles—THE hip artist. His posters for Hendrix and Cream and Jefferson Airplane (among others) are still classics of the rock poster world.

Because of his schooling and experience, his style was slicker and better trained than all the San Francisco poster artists. His work was professional, not folksy. He understood production process (the SF crew could barely get their minds around it). So, his work still stands out as very slick and savvy. Maybe the best of the lot in terms of sheer technical mastery.

When his concert company collapsed (for all the usual reasons), he simply sidestepped into the local regional industry—show biz. He went to work for Capitol Records and produced a string of record covers still considered unmatched in quality and impact. He simply became one of the greatest record cover designers of all time.

The most familiar? Well, how about The Beatles’ Magical Mystery Tour? Or The Rolling Stones Exile On Main Street? Jefferson Airplane’s Crown of Creation? KISS’ Hotter Than Hell? Van Hamersveld even worked with John Lydon on a cover for Public Image, Ltd.

Beat that!

In the 1970s, interest in his work began to wane as the styles and the mood of the times changed. I imagine he went through a rather fallow period toward the end of the ’70s and into the 1980s. Recently he’s been receiving a much overdue resurgence in recognition. He (as an example) did that wonderful poster/record cover for the 2005 reunion concert by Cream. That further launched a whole new career (again) in poster design. Only now he sells them as “art prints”—still the pioneer.

When I was starting out, one of my “hustling” techniques was letter-writing. I’d write fan letters to my favorite designers (and cleverly include samples of my own work—yeah, I was lame). However stupid it may have been, that technique led to lifelong friendships with many of my design heroes. Sometimes it even led to referrals for work. So, strangely, it worked extremely well. (I recommend it.)

At one point, I got Van Hamersveld’s address and sent him a fan letter. I think I may have gone a little overboard with my whining, though. He actually wrote back. It was handwritten on way cool personal letterhead (very Constructivist, of all things). Scrawled in big fat marking pen across the paper was the note: “Hey! Things are tough all over, kid!”

Lesson learned.